[illustration: "you've made me some stories, mother!"] jewel's story book by clara louise burnham with illustrations new york grosset & dunlap publishers made in the united states of america copyright by clara louise burnham all rights reserved _published october, _ _to the children who love jewel_ contents i. over the 'phone ii. the broker's office iii. the home-coming iv. on the veranda v. the lifted veil vi. the die is cast vii. mrs. evringham's gifts viii. the quest flower ix. the quest flower (continued) x. the apple woman's story xi. the golden dog xii. the talking doll xiii. a heroic offer xiv. robinson crusoe xv. st. valentine xvi. a morning ride xvii. the birthday xviii. true delight jewel's story book chapter i over the 'phone mrs. forbes, mr. evringham's housekeeper, answered the telephone one afternoon. she was just starting to climb to the second story and did not wish to be hindered, so her "hello" had a somewhat impatient brevity. "mrs. forbes?" "oh," with a total change of voice and face, "is that you, mr. evringham?" "please send jewel to the 'phone." "yes, sir." she laid down the receiver, and moving to the foot of the stairs called loudly, "jewel!" "drat the little lamb!" groaned the housekeeper, "if i was only sure she was up there; i've got to go up anyway. _jewel!_" louder. "ye--es!" came faintly from above, then a door opened. "is somebody calling me?" mrs. forbes began to climb the stairs deliberately while she spoke with energy. "hurry down, jewel. mr. evringham wants you on the 'phone." "goody, goody!" cried the child, her feet pattering on the thick carpet as she flew down one flight and then passed the housekeeper on the next. "perhaps he is coming out early to ride." "nothing would surprise me less," remarked mrs. forbes dryly as she mounted. jewel flitted to the telephone and picked up the receiver. "hello, grandpa, are you coming out?" she asked. "no, i thought perhaps you would like to come in." "in where? into new york?" "yes." "what are we going to do?" eagerly. mr. evringham, sitting at the desk in his private office, his head resting on his hand, moved and smiled. his mind pictured the expression on the face addressing him quite as distinctly as if no miles divided them. "well, we'll have dinner, for one thing. where shall it be? at the waldorf?" jewel had never heard the word. "do they have nesselrode pudding?" she asked, with keen interest. mrs. forbes had taken her in town one day and given her some at a restaurant. "perhaps so. you see i've heard from the steamship company, and they think that the boat will get in this evening." "oh, grandpa! grandpa! _grandpa!_" "softly, softly. don't break the 'phone. i hear you through the window." "when shall i come? oh, oh, oh!" "wait, jewel. don't be excited. listen. tell zeke to bring you in to my office on the three o'clock train." "yes, grandpa. oh, please wait a minute. do you think it would be too extravagant for me to wear my silk dress?" "no, let's be reckless and go the whole figure." "all right," tremulously. "good-by." "oh, grandpa, wait. can i bring anna belle?" but only silence remained. jewel hung up the receiver with a hand that was unsteady, and then ran through the house and out of doors, leaving every door open behind her in a manner which would have brought reproof from mrs. forbes, who had begun to be argus-eyed for flies. racing out to the barn, she appeared to 'zekiel in the harness room like a small whirlwind. "get on your best things, zeke," she cried, hopping up and down; "my father and mother are coming." "is this an india rubber girl?" inquired the coachman, pausing to look at her with a smile. "what train?" "three o'clock. you're going with me to new york. grandpa says so; to his office, and the boat's coming to-night. get ready quick, zeke, please. i'm going to wear my silk dress." "hold on, kid," for she was flying off. "i'm to go in town with you, am i? are you sure? i don't want to fix up till i make solomon look like thirty cents and then find out there's some misdeal." "grandpa wants you to bring me to his office, that's what he said," returned the child earnestly. "let's start real _soon_!" like a sprite she was back at the house and running upstairs, calling for mrs. forbes. the housekeeper appeared at the door of the front room, empty now for two days of mrs. evringham's trunks, and jewel with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes told her great news. mrs. forbes was instantly sympathetic. "come right upstairs and let me help you get ready. dear me, to-night! i wonder if they'll want any supper when they get here." "i don't know. i don't know!" sang jewel to a tune of her own improvising, as she skipped ahead. "i don't believe they will," mused mrs. forbes. "those customs take so much time. it seems a very queer thing to me, jewel, mr. evringham letting you come in at all. why, you'll very likely not get home till midnight." "won't it be the most _fun_!" cried the child, dancing to her closet and getting her checked silk dress. "i guess your flannel sailor suit will be the best, jewel." "grandpa said i might wear my silk. you see i'm going to dinner with him, and that's just like going to a party, and i ought to be very particular, don't you think so?" "well, don't sit down on anything dirty at the wharf. i expect you will," returned mrs. forbes with a resigned sigh, as she proceeded to unfasten jewel's tight, thick little braids. "just think what a short time we'll have to miss cousin eloise," said the child. "day before yesterday she went away, and now to-morrow my mother'll braid my hair." she gave an ecstatic sigh. "if that's all you wanted your cousin eloise for--to braid your hair--i guess i could get to do it as well as she did." "oh, i loved cousin eloise for everything and i always shall love her," responded the child quickly. "i only meant i didn't have to trouble you long with my hair." "i think i do it pretty well." "yes, indeed you do--just as _tight_. do you remember how much it troubled you when i first came? and now it's so much different!" "yes, there are a whole lot of things that are much different," replied mrs. forbes. "how long do you suppose you'll be staying with us now, jewel?" the child's face grew sober. "i don't know, because i don't know how long father and mother can stay." "you'll think about this room where you've lived so many weeks, when you get back to chicago." "yes, i shall think about it lots of times," said the little girl. "i knew it would be a lovely visit at grandpa's, and it has been." she glanced up in the mirror toward the housekeeper's face and saw that the woman's lips were working suspiciously and her eyes brimming over. "you won't be lonely, will you, mrs. forbes?" she asked; "because grandpa says you want to live with zeke in the barn this summer while he shuts up the house and goes off on his vacation." "oh, yes; it's all right, jewel, only it just came over me that in a week, or perhaps sooner, you'll be gone." "it's real kind of you to be glad to have me stay," said the child. "i try not to think about going away, because it does make me feel sorry every time. you know the soot blows all around in chicago and we haven't any yard, and when i think about all the sky and trees here, and the ravine, beside grandpa and you and zeke and essex maid--why i have to just say 'i _won't_ be sorry,' and then think about father and mother and star and all the nice things! i think star will like the park pretty well." jewel looked into space thoughtfully, and then shook her head. "i'm sure the morning we go i shall have to say: 'green pastures are before me' over and over." "what do you mean, child?" "why, you know the psalm: 'he maketh me to lie down in green pastures. he leadeth me beside the still waters'?" "yes." "well, in our hymnal there's the line of a hymn: 'green pastures are before me,' and mother and i used to say that line every morning when we woke up, to remind us that love was going to lead us all day." "i'd like to see your mother," said mrs. forbes after a pause. "you will, to-night," cried jewel, suddenly joyous again. "oh, mrs. forbes, do you think i could take anna belle to new york?" "what did mr. evringham say?" "he went away before i had a chance to ask him." jewel looked wistfully toward the chair where the doll sat by the window, toeing in, her sweet gaze fixed on the wall-paper. "she would enjoy it so!" added the little girl. "oh, it's a tiresome trip for children, such late hours," returned mrs. forbes persuasively. "beside," with an inspiration, "you'd like your hands free to help your mother carry her bags, wouldn't you?" "that's so," responded jewel. "anna belle would always give up anything for her grandma!" and as the housekeeper finished tying the hair bows, the little girl skipped over to the chair and knelt before the doll, explaining the situation to her with a joyous incoherence mingled with hugs and kisses from which the even-tempered anna belle emerged apparently dazed but docile. "come here and get your shoes on, jewel." "my best ones," returned the child. "oh, yes, the best of everything," said mrs. forbes good-humoredly; and indeed, when jewel was arrayed, she viewed herself in the mirror with satisfaction. zeke presented himself soon, fine in a new summer suit and hat, and mrs. forbes watched the pair as they walked down the driveway. "now, i can't let the grass grow under my feet," she muttered. "i expected to have till to-morrow night to get all the things done that mr. evringham told me to, but i guess i can get through." jewel and zeke had ample time for the train. indeed, the little girl's patience was somewhat tried before the big headlight came in view. she could not do such injustice to her silk dress and daisy-wreathed leghorn hat as to hop and skip, so she stood demurely with zeke on the station platform, and as they waited he regarded her happy expectant face. "remember the day you got here, kid?" he asked. "yes. isn't it a long time since you came and met me with dick, and he just whirled us home!" "sure it is. and now you're glad to be leaving us." "i am not, zeke!" "well, you look in the glass and see for yourself." just then the train came along and zeke swung the child up to the high step. the fact that she found a seat by the window added a ray to her shining eyes. her companion took the place beside her. "yes," he went on, as the train started, "it's kind of hard on the rest of us to have you so tickled over the prospect." "i'm only happy over father and mother," returned jewel. "pretty nice folks, are they?" jewel shook her head significantly. "you just wait and see," she replied with zest. "which one do you look like?" "like father. mother's much prettier than father." "a beauty, is she?" "n--o, i don't believe so. she isn't so pretty as cousin eloise, but then she's pretty." "that's probably the reason your grandfather likes to see you around--because you look like his side of the house." "well," jewel sighed, "i hope grandpa likes my nose. i don't." zeke laughed. "he seems able to put up with it. i expect there's going to be ructions around here the next week." "what's ructions?" "well, some folks might call it error. i don't know. mr. evringham's going to be pretty busy with his own nose. it's going to be put out of joint to-night. the green-eyed monster's going to get on the rampage, or i miss my guess." jewel looked up doubtfully. zeke was a joker, of course, being a man, but what was he driving at now? "what green-eyed monster?" she asked. "oh, the one that lives in folks' hearts and lays low part of the time," replied zeke. "do you mean jealousy; envy, hatred, or malice?" asked jewel so glibly that her companion stared. "great scott! what do you know about that outfit?" he asked. the child nodded wisely. "i know people believe in them sometimes; but you needn't think grandpa does, because he doesn't." "mr. evringham's all right," agreed zeke, "but he isn't going to be the only pebble any longer. your father and mother will be the whole thing now." the child was thoughtful a moment, then she began earnestly: "oh, i'm sure grandpa knows how it is about loving. the more people you love, the more you can love. i can love father and mother more because i've learned to love grandpa, and he can love them more too, because he has learned to love me." "humph! we'll see," remarked the other, smiling. "is error talking to you, zeke? are you laying laws on grandpa?" "well, if i am, i'll stop it mighty quick. you don't catch me taking any such liberties. whoa!" drawing on imaginary reins as the engine slackened at a station. jewel laughed, and from that time until they reached new york they chatted about her pony star, and other less important horses, and of the child's anticipation of showing her mother the joys of bel-air park. chapter ii the broker's office it was the first time jewel had visited her grandfather's office and she was impressed anew with his importance as she entered the stone building and ascended in the elevator to mysterious heights. arrived in an electric-lighted anteroom, zeke's request to see mr. evringham was met by a sharp-eyed young man who denied it with a cold, inquiring stare. then the glance of this factotum fell to jewel's uplifted, rose-tinted face and her trustful gaze fixed on his own. zeke twirled his hat slowly between his hands. "you just step into mr. evringham's office," he said quietly, "and tell him the young lady he invited has arrived." jewel wondered how this person, who had the privilege of being near her grandfather all day, could look so forbidding; but in her happy excitement she could not refrain from smiling at him under the nodding hat brim. "i'm going to dinner with him," she said softly, "and i _think_ we're going to have nesselrode pudding." the young man's eyes stared and then began to twinkle. "oh," he returned, "in that case"--then he turned and left the visitors. when he entered the sanctum of his employer he was smiling. mr. evringham did not look up at once. when he did, it was with a brief, "well?" "a young lady insists upon seeing you, sir." "kindly stop grinning, masterson, and tell her she must state her business." "she has done so, sir," but masterson did not stop grinning. "she looks like a summer girl, and i guess she is one." mr. evringham frowned at this unprecedented levity. "what is her business, briefly?" he asked curtly. "to eat nesselrode pudding, sir." the broker started. "ah!" he exclaimed, and though he still frowned, he reflected his junior's smile. "is there some one with her?" "a young man." "send them in, please." masterson obeyed and managed to linger until his curiosity was both appeased and heightened by seeing jewel run across the turkish rug and completely submerge the stately gray head beneath the brim of her hat. "well, i'll--be--everlastingly"--thought masterson, as he softly passed out and closed the door behind him. "even achilles could get it in the heel, but i'll swear i didn't believe the old man had a joint in his armor." zeke stood twisting his hat, and when his employer was allowed to come to the surface, he spoke respectfully:-- "mother said i was to bring word if you would like a late supper, sir." "tell mrs. forbes that it will be only something light, if anything. she need not prepare." jewel danced to the door with her escort as he went. "good-by, zeke," she said gayly. "thank you for bringing me." "good-by, jewel," he returned in subdued accents, and stumbling on the threshold, passed out with a furtive wave of his hat. the child returned and jumped into a chair by the desk, reserved for the selected visitors who succeeded in invading this precinct. "i suppose you aren't quite through," she said, fixing her host with a blissful gaze as he worked among a scattered pile of papers. "very nearly," he returned. he saw that she was near to bubbling over with ideas ready to pour out to him. he knew, too, that she would wait his time. it entertained him to watch her furtively as she gave herself to inspecting the furnishings of the room and the pictures on the wall, then looked down at the patent leather tips of her best shoes as they swung to and fro. at last she began to look at him more and more wistfully, and to view the furnishings of the large desk. it had a broad shelf at the top. suddenly jewel caught sight of a picture standing there in a square frame, and an irrepressible "oh!" escaped from her lips. she pressed her hands together and mr. evringham saw a deeper rose in her cheeks. he followed her eyes, and silently taking the picture from the desk placed it in her lap. she clasped it eagerly. it was a fine photograph of essex maid, her grandfather's mare. in a minute he spoke:-- "now i think i'm about through, jewel," he said, leaning back in his chair. "oh, grandpa, do these cost very much?" "why? do you want to have star sit for his picture?" "yes, it _would_ be nice to have a picture of star, wouldn't it! i never thought of that. i mean to ask mother if i can." the broker winced. "what i was thinking of was, could i have a picture of essex maid to take with me to chicago?" mr. evringham nodded. "i will get you one." he kept on nodding slightly, and jewel noted the expression of his eyes. her bright look began to cloud as her grandfather continued to gaze at her. "you'd like to have a picture of star to keep, wouldn't you?" she asked softly, her head falling a little to one side in loving recognition of his sadness. "yes," he answered, rather gruffly, "and i've been thinking for some weeks that there was a picture lacking on my desk here." "star's?" asked jewel. "no. yours. are there any pictures of you?" "no, only when i was a baby. you ought to see me. i was as _fat_!" "we'll have some photographs of you." "oh," jewel spoke wistfully, "i wish i was pretty." "then you wouldn't be an evringham." "why not? you are," returned the child, so spontaneously that slow color mounted to the broker's face, and he smiled. "i look like my mother's family, they say. at any rate,"--after a pause and scrutiny of her,--"it's your face, it's my jewel's face, that suits me and that i want to keep. if i can find somebody who can do it and not change you into some one else, i am going to have a little picture painted; a miniature, that i can carry in my pocket when essex maid and i are left alone." the brusque pain in his tone filled jewel's eyes, and her little hands clasped tighter the frame she held in her lap. "then you will give me one of you, too, grandpa?" "oh, child," he returned, rather hoarsely, "it's too late to be painting my leather countenance." "no one could paint it just as i know it," said jewel softly. "i know all the ways you look, grandpa,--when you're joking or when you're sorry, or happy, and they're all in here," she pressed one hand to her breast in a simple fervor that, with her moist eyes, compelled mr. evringham to swallow several times; "but i'd like one in my hand to show to people when i tell them about you." the broker looked away and fussed with an envelope. "grandpa," continued the child after a pause, "i've been thinking that there's one secret we've got to keep from father and mother." mr. evringham looked back at her. this was the most cheering word he had heard for some time. "it wouldn't be loving to let them know how sorry it makes us to say good-by, would it? i get such lumps in my throat when i think about not riding with you or having breakfast together. i do work over it and think how happy it will be to have father and mother again, and how love gives us everything we ought to have and everything like that; but i _have_--cried--twice, thinking about it! even anna belle is mortified the way i act. i know you feel sorry, too, and we've got to demonstrate over it; but it'll come so soon, and i guess i didn't begin to work in time. anyway, i was wondering if we couldn't just have a secret and manage not to say good-by to each other." the corners of the child's mouth were twitching down now, and she took out a small handkerchief and wiped her eyes. mr. evringham blew his nose violently, and crossing the office turned the key in the door. "i think that would be an excellent plan, jewel," he returned, rather thickly, but with an endeavor to speak heartily. "of course your confounded--i mean to say your--your parents will naturally expect you to follow their plans and"--he paused. "and it would be so unloving to let them think that i was sorry after they let me have such a beautiful visit, and if we can _just_--manage not to say good-by, everything will be so much easier." the broker stood looking at her while the plaintive voice made music for him. "i'm going to try to manage just that thing if it's in the books," he said, after waiting a little, and jewel, looking up at him with an april smile, saw that his eyes were wet. "you're so good, grandpa," she returned tremulously; "and i won't even kiss essex maid's neck--not the last morning." he sat down with fallen gaze, and jewel caught her lip with her teeth as she looked at him. then suddenly the leghorn hat was on the floor, daisy side down, while she climbed into his lap and her soft cheek buried itself under mr. evringham's ear. "how m-many m-miles off is chicago?" stammered the child, trying to repress her sobs, all happy considerations suddenly lost in the realization of her grandfather's lonely lot. "a good many more than it ought to be. don't cry, jewel." the broker's heart swelled within him as he pressed her to his breast. her sorrow filled him with tender elation, and he winked hard. "there isn't--isn't any sorrow--in mind, grandpa. shouldn't you--you think i'd--remember it? divine love always--always takes care--of us--and just because--i don't see how he's going--going to this time--i'm crying! oh, it's so--so naughty!" mr. evringham swallowed fast. he never had wondered so much as he did this minute just how obstinate or how docile those inconvenient and superfluous individuals--jewel's parents--would prove. he cleared his throat. "come, come," he said, and he kissed the warm pink rose of the child's cheek. "don't spoil those bright eyes just when you're going to have your picture taken. we're going to have the jolliest time you ever heard of!" jewel's little handkerchief was wet and mr. evringham put his own into her hand and they went into the lavatory where she used the wet corner of a towel while he told her about the photographer who had taken essex maid's picture and should take star's. then the cherished leghorn hat was rescued from its ignominy and replaced carefully on its owner's head. "but i never thought you meant to have my picture taken this afternoon," said jewel, her lips still somewhat tremulous. "i didn't until a minute ago, but i think we can find somebody who won't mind doing it late in the day." "yours too, then, grandpa.--oh, _yes_," and at last a smile beamed like the sun out of an april sky, "right on the same card with me!" "oh, no, no, jewel; no, no!" "yes, _please_, grandpa," earnestly, "do let's have one nice nose in the picture!" she lifted eyes veiled again with a threatening mist. "and you'll put your arm around me--and then i'll look at it"--her lip twitched. "yes, oh, yes, i--i think so," hastily. "we'll see, and then, after that--how much nesselrode pudding do you think you can eat? i tell you, jewel, we're going to have the time of our lives!" mr. evringham struck his hands together with such lively anticipation that the child's spirits rose. "yes," she responded, "and then after dinner, _what_?" she gazed at him. the broker tapped his forehead as if knocking at the door of memory. "father and mother!" she cried out, laughing and beginning to hop discreetly. "you forgot, grandpa, you forgot. your own little boy coming home and you forgot!" "well, that's a fact, jewel; that i suppose i had better remember. he is my own boy--and i don't know but i owe him something after all." chapter iii home-coming again jewel and her grandfather stood on the wharf where the great boats, ploughing their way through the mighty seas, come finally, each into its own place, as meekly as the horse seeks his stable. the last time they stood here they were strangers watching the departure of those whom now they waited, hand in hand, to greet. "jewel, you made me eat too much dinner," remarked mr. evringham. "i feel as if my jacket was buttoned, in spite of the long drive we've taken since. i went to my tailor this morning, and what do you think he told me?" "what? that you needed some new clothes?" "oh, he always tells me that. he told me that i was growing fat! there, young lady, what do you think of that?" "i think you are, too, grandpa," returned the child, viewing him critically. "well, you take it coolly. supposing i should lose my waist, and all your fault!" jewel drew in her chin and smiled at him. "supposing i go waddling about! eh?" she laughed. "but how would it be my fault?" she asked. "didn't you ever hear the saying 'laugh and grow fat'? how many times have you made me laugh since we left the office?" jewel began to tug on his hand as she jumped up and down. "oh, grandpa, do you think our pictures will be good?" "i think yours will." "not yours?" the hopping ceased. "oh, yes, excellent, probably. i haven't had one taken in so many years, how can i tell? but here's one day that they can't get away from us, jewel. this eighth of june has been a good day, hasn't it--and mind, you're not to tell about the pictures until we see how they come out." "yes, haven't we had _fun_? the be-_eau_tiful hotel, and the drive in the park, and the ride in the boats and"-- "speaking of boats, there it is now. they're coming," remarked mr. evringham. "who?" "mr. and mrs. henry thayer evringham," returned the broker dryly. "steady, jewel, steady now. it will be quite a while before you see them." the late twilight had faded and the june night begun, the wharf was dimly lighted and there was the usual crowd of customs officers, porters, and men and women waiting to see friends. all moved and changed like figures in a kaleidoscope before jewel's unwinking gaze; but the long minutes dragged by until at last her father and mother appeared among the passengers who came in procession down the steep incline from the boat. mr. evringham drew back a step as father, mother, and child clung to each other, kissing and murmuring with soft exclamations. harry extricated himself first and shook hands with his father. "awfully good of you to get us the courtesy of the port," he said heartily. "don't mention it," returned the broker, and julia released jewel and turned upon mr. evringham her grateful face. "but so many things are good of you," she said feelingly, as she held out her hand. "it will take us a long time to give thanks." "not at all, i assure you," responded the broker coldly, but his heart was hot within him. "if they have the presumption to thank me for taking care of jewel!" he was thinking as he dropped his daughter-in-law's hand. "what a human iceberg!" she thought. "how has jewel been able to take it so cheerfully? ah, the blessed, loving heart of a child!" meanwhile mr. evringham turned to his son and continued: "the courtesy of the port does shorten things up a bit, and i have a man from the customs waiting." harry followed him to see about the luggage, and mrs. evringham and jewel sat down on a pile of boxes to wait. the mother's arm was around the little girl, and jewel had one of the gloved hands in both her own. "oh," she exclaimed, suddenly starting up, "mrs. forbes thought i'd better wear my sailor suit instead of this, and she told me not to sit down on anything dirty." she carefully turned up the skirt of her little frock and seated herself again on a very brief petticoat. mrs. evringham smiled. "mrs. forbes is careful of you, isn't she?" she asked. her heart was in a tumult of happiness and also of curiosity as to her child's experiences in the last two months. jewel's letters had conveyed that she was content, and joy in her pony had been freely expressed. the mother's mental picture of the stiff, cold individual to whose doubtful mercies she had confided her child at such short notice had been softened by the references to him in jewel's letters; and it was with a shock of disappointment that she found herself repulsed now by the same unyielding personality, the same cold-eyed, unsmiling, fastidiously dressed figure, whose image had lingered in her memory. a dozen eager questions rose to her lips, but she repressed them. "jewel must have had a glimpse of the real man," she thought. "i must not cloud her perception." it did not occur to her, however, that the child could even now feel less than awe of the stern guardian with whom she had succeeded in living at peace, and who had, from time to time, bestowed upon her gifts. one of these mrs. evringham noticed now. "oh, that's your pretty watch!" she said. "yes," returned the child, "this is little faithful. isn't he a darling?" the mother smiled as she lifted the silver cherub. "you've named him?" she returned. "why, it is a beauty, jewel. how kind of your grandfather!" "yes, indeed. it was so i wouldn't stay in the ravine too long." "how is anna belle?" "dear anna belle!" exclaimed the little girl wistfully. "what a good time she would have had if i could have brought her! but you see i needed both my hands to help carry bags; and she understood about it and sent her love. she'll be sitting up waiting for you." mrs. evringham cast a look toward harry and his father. "i'm not sure"--she began, "i hardly think we shall go to bel-air to-night. how would you like to stay in at the hotel with us, and then we could go out to the house to-morrow and pack your trunk?" jewel looked very sober at this. "why, it would be pretty hard to wait, mother," she replied. "hotels are splendid. grandpa and i had dinner at one. it's named the waldorf and it has woods in it just like outdoors; but i thought you'd be in a hurry to see star and the ravine of happiness and zeke." "well, we'll wait," returned mrs. evringham vaguely. she was more than doubtful of an invitation to bel-air park even for one night; but harry must arrange it. "we'll see what father says," she added. "what a pretty locket, my girlie!" as she spoke she lifted a gold heart that hung on a slender gold chain around jewel's neck. "yes. cousin eloise gave me that when she went away. she has had it ever since she was as little as i am, and she said she left her heart with me. i'm so sorry you won't see cousin eloise." "so she and her mother have gone away. were they sorry to go? did mr. evringham--perhaps--think"--the speaker paused. she remembered jewel's letter about the situation. "no, they weren't sorry. they've gone to the seashore; but cousin eloise and i love each other very much, and her room is so empty now that i've had to keep remembering that you were coming and everything was happy. i guess cousin eloise is the prettiest girl in the whole world; and since she stopped being sorry we've had the most _fun_." "i wish i could see her!" returned mrs. evringham heartily. she longed to thank eloise for supplying the sunshine of love to her child while the grandfather was providing for her material wants. she looked at jewel now, a picture of health and contentment, her bits of small finery in watch and locket standing as symbols of the care and affection she had received. "divine love has been so kind to us, dearie," she said softly, as she pressed the child closer to her. "he has brought father and mother back across the ocean and has given you such loving friends while we were gone." in a future day mrs. evringham was to learn something of the inner history of the progress of this little pilgrim during her first days at bel-air; but the shadows had so entirely faded from jewel's consciousness that she could not have told it herself--not even such portions of it as she had once realized. "yes, indeed, i love bel-air and all the people. even aunt madge kissed me when she went away and said 'good-by, you queer little thing!'" "what did she mean?" asked mrs. evringham. "i don't know. i didn't tell grandpa, because i thought he might not like people calling me queer, but i asked zeke." "he's mr. evringham's coachman, isn't he?" "yes, and he's the nicest man, but he only told me that aunt madge had wheels. i asked him what kind of wheels, and he said he guessed they were rubber-tired, because she was always rubbering and she made people tired. you know zeke is such a joker, so i haven't found out yet what aunt madge meant, and it isn't any matter because"--jewel reached up and hugged her mother, "you've come home." here the two men approached. "no more time for spooning," said harry cheerfully. "we're going now, little girls." after all, there was nothing for jewel to carry. her father and grandfather had the dress-suit case and bags. mrs. evringham looked inquiringly at her husband, but he was gayly talking with jewel as the four walked out to the street. mr. evringham led the way to a carriage that was standing there. "this is ours," he said, opening the door. harry put the bags up beside the driver while his wife entered the vehicle, still in doubt as to their destination. jewel jumped in beside her. "you'd better move over, dear," said her mother quietly. "let mr. evringham ride forward." she was not surprised that jewel was ignorant of carriage etiquette. it was seldom that either of them had seen the inside of one. the broker heard the suggestion. "_place aux dames_," he said, briefly, and moved the child back with one hand. then he entered, harry jumped in beside him, slammed the door, and they rolled away. "if anna belle was here the whole family would be together," said jewel joyously. "i don't care which one i sit by. i love everybody in this carriage!" "you do, eh, rascal?" returned her father, putting his hand over in her silken lap and giving her a little shake. "where is the great and good anna belle?" "waiting for us. just think of it, all this time! grandpa, are we going home with you?" "what do you mean?" inquired the broker, and the tone of the curt question chilled the spine of his daughter-in-law. "were you thinking of spending the night in the ferry-house, perhaps?" "why, no, only mother said"-- mrs. evringham pressed the child's arm. "that was nothing, jewel; i simply didn't know what the plan was," she put in hastily. "oh, of course," went on the little girl. "mother didn't know aunt madge and cousin eloise were gone, and she didn't believe there'd be room. she doesn't know how big the house is, does she, grandpa?" an irresistible yawn seized the child, and in the middle of it her father leaned forward and chucked her under the chin. her jaws came together with a snap. "there! you spoiled that nice one!" she exclaimed, jumping up and laughing as she flung herself upon her big playmate, and a small scuffle ensued in which the wide leghorn hat brim sawed against mr. evringham's shoulder and neck in a manner that caused mrs. evringham's heart to leap toward her throat. how _could_ harry be so thoughtless! a street lamp showed the grim lines of the broker's averted face as he gazed stonily out to the street. "come here, jewel; sit still," said the mother, striving to pull the little girl back into her seat. harry was laughing and holding his agile assailant off as best he might, and at his wife's voice aided her efforts with a gentle push. jewel sank back on the cushion. "oh, what bores he thinks us. i know he does!" reflected julia, capturing her child in one arm and holding her close. to her surprise and even dismay, jewel spoke cheerfully after another yawn:-- "grandpa, how far is it to the ferry? how long, i mean?" "about fifteen minutes." "well, that's a good while. my eyes do feel as if they had sticks in them. don't you wish we could cross in a swan boat, grandpa?" "humph!" he responded. mrs. evringham gave the child a little squeeze intended to be repressive. jewel wriggled around a minute trying to get a comfortable position. "tell father and mother about central park and the swan boats, grandpa," she continued. "you tell them to-morrow, when you're not so sleepy," he replied. jewel took off her large hat, and nestling her head on her mother's shoulder, put an arm around her. "mother, mother!" she sighed happily, "are you really home?" "really, really," replied mrs. evringham, with a responsive squeeze. mr. evringham sat erect in silence, still gazing out the window with a forbidding expression. there were buttons on her mother's gown that rubbed jewel's cheek. she tried to avoid them for a minute and then sat up. "father, will you change places with me?" she asked sleepily. "i want to sit by grandpa." mrs. evringham's eyes widened, and in spite of her earnest "dearie!" the transfer was made and jewel crept under mr. evringham's arm, which closed naturally around her. she leaned against him and shut her eyes. "you mustn't go to sleep," he said. "i guess i shall," returned the child softly. "no, no. you mustn't. think of the lights crossing the ferry. you'll lose a lot if you're asleep. they're fine to see. we can't carry you and the luggage, too. brace up, now--come, come! i shouldn't think you were any older than anna belle." jewel laughed sleepily, and the broker held her hand in his while he pushed her upright. mr. and mrs. evringham looked on, the latter marveling at the child's nonchalance. now, for the first time, the host became talkative. "how many days have you to give us, harry?" he asked. "a couple, perhaps," replied the young man. "two days, father!" exclaimed jewel, in dismay, wide awake in an instant. "oh, that's a stingy visit," remarked mr. evringham. "not half long enough," added jewel. "there's so much for you to see." "oh, we can see a lot in two days," returned harry. "think of the little girls in chicago, jewel. they won't forgive me if i don't bring you home pretty soon." he leaned forward and took his child's free hand. "how do you suppose father has got along without his little girl all these weeks, eh, baby?" "it _is_ a long time since you went away," she returned, "but i was right in your room every night, and daytimes i played in your ravine. bel-air park is the beautifulest place in the whole world. two days isn't any time to stay there, father." "h'm, i'm glad you've been so happy." sincere feeling vibrated in the speaker's voice. "we don't know how to thank your grandpa, do we?" a street lamp showed jewel, as she turned and smiled up into the impassive face mr. evringham turned upon her. "you can safely leave that to her," said the broker briefly, but he did not remove his eyes from the upturned ones. "it is beyond me," thought mrs. evringham; "but love is a miracle-worker." the glowing lights of the ferry passed, jewel did go to sleep in the train. her father, unaware that he was trespassing, took her in his arms, and, tired out with all the excitement of the day and the lateness of the hour, the child instantly became unconscious; but by the time they reached home, the bustle of arrival and her interest in showing her parents about, aided her in waking to the situation. mrs. forbes stood ready to welcome the party. ten years had passed since harry evringham had stood in the home of his boyhood, and the housekeeper thought she perceived that he was moved by a contrite memory; but he spoke with bluff heartiness as he shook hands with her; and mrs. forbes looked with eager curiosity into the sweet face of mrs. evringham, as the latter greeted her and said something grateful concerning the housekeeper's kindness to jewel. "it's very little you have to thank me for, ma'am," replied mrs. forbes, charmed at once by the soft gaze of the dark eyes. the little cavalcade moved upstairs to the handsome rooms so lately vacated. they were brilliant with light and fragrant with roses. "how beautiful!" exclaimed mrs. evringham, while jewel hopped up and down, as wide awake as any little girl in town, delighted with the gala appearance of everything. mr. evringham looked critically into the face of his daughter-in-law. here was the woman to whom he owed jewel, and all that she was and all that she had taught him. her face was what he might have expected. it looked very charming now as the pretty eyes met his. she was well-dressed, too, and mr. evringham liked that. "i hope you will be very much at home here, julia," he said; and though he did not smile, it was certain that, whether from a sense of duty or not, he had taken pains to make their welcome a pleasant one. jewel had, evidently, no slightest fear of his cold reserve. with the child's hand in hers, julia took courage to reply warmly: "thank you, father, it is a joy to be here." she had called him "father," this elegant stranger, and her heart beat a little faster, but her husband's arm went around her. "america's all right, eh, julia?" "come in cousin eloise's room," cried jewel. "that's all lighted, too. are they going to have them both, grandpa?" she danced ahead, through a spacious white-tiled bathroom and into the adjoining apartment. there an unexpected sight met the child's eyes. in the rosy depths of a large chintz chair sat anna belle, loyally keeping her eyes open in spite of the hour. jewel rushed toward her. there were plenty of flowers scattered about in this room, also, and the child suddenly caught sight of her own toilet articles on the dresser. "my things are down here in cousin eloise's room, grandpa!" she cried, so surprised that she delayed picking up her doll. "why, why!" said mr. evringham, throwing open the door of the large closet and then opening a bureau drawer. within both receptacles were jewel's belongings, neatly arranged. "this is odd!" he added. "grandpa, grandpa!" cried the child, rushing at him and clasping her arms around his waist. "you're going to let me sleep down here by father and mother!" mr. evringham regarded her unsmilingly. jewel's parents both looked on, more than half expecting a snub to meet the energetic onslaught. "you won't object, will you?" he asked. jewel pulled him down and whispered something in his ear. the curious on-lookers saw the sweeping mustache curve in a smile as he straightened up again. as a matter of fact they were both curious to know what she had said to him. "you're whispering in company, jewel," remarked her father. "oh, please excuse me!" said the child. "i forgot to remember. here's anna belle, father." "my, my, my!" ejaculated harry evringham, coming forward. "how that child has grown!" chapter iv on the veranda what a luxurious, happy, sleepy time jewel had that night in the pretty rose-bower where her mother undressed her while her father and grandfather went back downstairs. it was very sweet to be helped and cuddled as if she were again a baby, and as she lay in bed and watched her mother setting the flowers in the bathroom and arranging everything, she tried to talk to her on some of the subjects that were uppermost in her mind. mrs. evringham came at last and lay down beside her. jewel nestled into the loving arms and kissed her cheek. "i'm too happy to go to sleep," she declared, then sighed, and instantly pretty room and pretty mother had disappeared. mrs. evringham lay there on the luxurious bed, the sleeping child in her arms, and her thoughts were rich with gratitude. her life had never been free from care: first as a young girl in her widowed mother's home, then as wife of the easy-going and unprincipled youth, whose desertion of her and her baby had filled her cup of bitterness, though she bravely struggled on. her mother had died; and soon afterward the light of christian science had dawned upon her path. strengthened by its support, she had grown into new health and courage, and life was beginning to blossom for her when her repentant husband returned. for a time his wayward habits were a care to her; but he was sincerely ashamed of himself, and the discovery of the development of character in the pretty girl whom he had left six years before roused his manhood. to her joy he began to take an interest in the faith which had wrought such changes in her, and after that she had no doubts of the outcome. from the moment when she obtained for him a business position, it became his ambition to take his rightful place in the world and to guard her from rough contact, and though as yet he still leaned upon her judgment, and she knew herself to be the earthly mainspring of all their business affairs, she knew, also, that his desire was right, and the knowledge sweetened her days. here in this home which was, to her unaccustomed eyes, palatial in its appointments, with her child again in her arms, she gave thanks for the joy of the present hour. a day or two of pleasure in these surroundings, and then she and harry would relieve mr. evringham of the care they had imposed upon him. he had borne it nobly, there was no doubt about that. he had even complicated existence by giving jewel a pony. how a pony would fit into the frugal, busy life of the chicago apartment, julia did not know; but her child's dearest wish had been gratified, and there was nothing to do but appreciate and enjoy the fact. after all, harry's father must have more paternal affection than her husband had ever given him credit for; for even on the most superficial acquaintance one could see that any adaptation of his life and tastes to those of a child would have to come with creaking difficulty to the stock broker, and the fact of jewel's ease with him told an eloquent story of how far mr. evringham must have constrained himself for harry's sake. her thoughts flowed on and had passed to business and all that awaited them in chicago, when her husband rejoined her. she rose from the bed as he came in, and hand in hand they stood and looked down at jewel, asleep. harry stooped and kissed the flushed cheek. "don't wake her, dear," said julia, smiling at the energy of the caress. "wake her? i don't believe a clap of thunder would have that effect. why, she and father have been painting the town; dining at the waldorf, driving in the park, riding in the swan boats, and then hanging around that dock. bless her little heart, i should think she'd sleep for twenty-four hours." "how wonderfully kind of him!" returned julia. "you need never tell me again, harry, that your father doesn't love you." "oh, loving hasn't been much in father's line, but we hope it will be," returned the young man as he slipped an arm around his wife. "do you remember the last time we stood watching jewel asleep? i do. it was in that beastly hotel the night before we sailed." "oh, harry!" julia buried her face a moment on his shoulder. "shall you ever forget our relief when her first letter came, showing that she was happy? do you remember the hornpipe you danced in our lodgings and how you shocked the landlady? your father may not _call_ it loving, but his care and thoughtfulness have expressed that and he can't help my loving _him_ forever and forever for being kind to jewel." harry gave his head a quick shake. "i'll be hanged if i can see how anybody could be unkind to her," he remarked. "oh, well, you've never been an elderly man, set in your ways and used to living alone. i'm sure it meant a great deal to him. think of his doing all that for her this afternoon." "oh, he had to pass the time somehow, and he couldn't very well refuse to let her come in to meet us. besides, she's on the eve of going away, and father likes to do the handsome thing. he was doing it for other people, though, when lawrence and i were kids. he never took us in any swan boats." "poor little boys!" murmured julia. "oh, not at all," returned harry, laughing rather sardonically. "we took ourselves in the swan boats and in a variety of other places not so picturesque. father's purse strings were always loose, and so long as we kept out of his way he didn't care what we did. nice old place, this, julia?" "oh, it's very fine. i had no idea how fine." her tone was somewhat awestruck. "i used to know, absolutely, that father was through with me, and that therefore i was through with bel-air; but i'm a new man," the speaker smiled down at his wife and pressed her closer to him, "and i've been telling father why, and how." "is that what you've been talking about?" "yes. he seemed interested to hear of my business and prospects and asked me a lot of questions; so, as i only began to live less than a year ago, i couldn't answer them without telling him who and what had set me on my feet." "oh, harry! you've really been talking about science?" "yes, my dear, and about you; and i tell you, he wasn't bored. when i'd let up a little he'd ask me another question; and at last he said, father did, 'well, i believe she'll make a man of you yet, harry!' not too complimentary, i admit, but i swallowed it and never flinched. i knew he wasn't going to see enough of you in two days to half know you, so i just thought i'd give him a few statistics, and they made an impression, i assure you. after that if he wanted to set me down a little it was no more than i deserved, and he was welcome." for a long moment the two looked into one another's eyes, then harry spoke in a subdued tone:-- "you've done a lot for me, julia; but the biggest thing of all, the thing that is most wonderful and that means the most to me, and for which i'd worship you through eternity if it was _all_ you'd done, is that you have taught me of christian science and shown me how it has guarded that child's love and respect for me, when i was forfeiting both every hour. i'll work to my last day, my girl, to show you my gratitude for that." "darling boy!" she murmured. next morning at rising time jewel was still wrapped in slumber. her parents looked at her before going downstairs. "do you know, i can't help feeling a bit relieved," laughed julia softly, "that she won't go down with us. the little thing is rather thoughtless with her grandfather, and though he has evidently schooled himself to endure her energetic ways, i can't help feeling a bit anxious all the time. he has borne it so well this long that i want to get her away before she breaks the camel's back. when do you think we can go, harry?" "to-morrow or next day. you might get things packed to-day. i really ought to go, but i don't want to seem in a hurry." "oh, yes, do let us go to-morrow," returned julia eagerly. the westminster clock on the stairs chimed as they passed down, and mr. evringham was waiting for them in the dining-room. as he said good-morning he looked beyond them, expectantly. mrs. forbes greeted them respectfully and indicated their seats. "where is jewel?" asked the host. "in dreamland. you couldn't waken her with a volley of artillery," returned harry cheerfully. "h'm," returned his father. they all took their places at the table and julia remarked on the charming outlook from the windows. "yes," returned the host. "i'm sorry i can't stay at home this morning and do the honors of the park. i shall leave that to harry and jewel. as we were rather late last night i didn't take my canter this morning. if you wish to have a turn on the mare, harry, zeke knows that the stables are in your hands. no one but myself rides essex maid, but i'll make a shining exception of you." "i appreciate the honor," returned harry lightly, but as a matter of fact he did not at all grasp its extent. "if you'd like to take your wife for a drive there's the spider. the child will want to show you her pony and will probably get you off on some excursion. tell her there is time enough and not to make you do two days' work in one." after breakfast the trio adjourned to the piazza and julia looked out on the thick, dewy grass and spreading trees. "i believe the park improves, father," said harry, smiling as he noted his wife's delight in the charming landscape. deep armchairs and tables, rugs and a wicker divan furnished a portion of the piazza. "how will little jewel like the apartment after this?" julia could not help asking herself the question mentally. she no longer wondered at the child's content here, even without the companionship of other children. it must be an unimaginative little maid who, supported by anna belle, could not weave a fairy-land in this fresh paradise. "won't you be seated?" said the broker, waving his hand toward the chairs. the others obeyed as he took his place. "let us know a little, now, what we are doing. what did i understand you to say, harry, is your limit for time?" "well, i ought, really, to go west to-morrow, father." mr. evringham nodded and turned his incisive glance upon his daughter-in-law. "and you, julia?" she smiled brightly at him. he observed that her complexion bore the sunlight well. "oh, jewel and i go with him, of course," she responded, confident that her reply would convey satisfaction. "h'm. indeed! now it seems to me that you would be the better for a vacation." "why! haven't i just had a trip to europe?" "yes, i should think you had. from all that harry tells me, i judge what with hunting up fashions and fabrics and corset-makers and all the rest of it, you have done the work, daily, of about two able-bodied men." "that's right," averred harry. "i was too much of a greenhorn to give her much assistance." "still, you understand your own end of the business, i take it," said his father, turning suddenly upon him. "yes, i do. i believe the firm will say i'm the square peg in the square hole." "then why not take a vacation, julia?" asked the broker again. "harry is doing splendidly," she returned gently, "but we can't live on the salary he gets now. he needs my help for a while, yet. i'm going to be a lady of leisure some day." the broker caught the glance of confidence she sent his boy. "i'm screwing up my courage now to strike them for more," said harry. "it frets me worse every day to see that girl delving away, and a great strapping, hulking chap like me not able to prevent it." his father looked gravely at the young wife. "let him begin now," he said. "he doesn't need your apron string any longer." "what do you mean?" asked julia, half timidly. "stay here with me a while and let harry go west. i will take you and jewel to the seashore." "hurray!" cried harry, his face radiant. "julia, why, you won't know yourself strolling on the sands with a parasol while your poor delicate husband is toiling and moiling away in the dingy city. good for you, father! you lift that pretty nose of hers up from the grindstone where she's held it so many years that she doesn't know anything different. hurray, julia!" in his enthusiasm the speaker rose and leaned over the chair of his astonished wife. "you wake up in the morning and read a novel instead of your appointment book for a while," he went on. "the chicago women's summer clothes are all made by this time, anyway. play lady for once and come back to me the color of mahogany. go ahead!" "why, harry, how can i? what would you do?" "i'm hanged if i don't show you what i'd do, and do it well, too," he returned. "but i ought to go home first," faltered the bewildered woman. "not a bit of it. i'll tackle the firm and the apartment, all right; and to be plain, we can't afford the needless car fare." "but, father," julia appealed to him, "is it right to make harry get on still longer without jewel?" "perfectly right. entirely so," rejoined the broker decidedly. "of course he doesn't realize how we feel about jewel," thought julia. here a large brown horse and brougham came around the driveway into sight. zeke's eyes turned curiously toward the guests, but he sat stiffly immovable. the broker rose. "i must go now or i shall miss my train. think it over. there's only one way to think about it. it is quite evidently the thing to do. the break has been made, and now is the time for julia to take her vacation before going into harness again. moreover, perhaps harry will get his raise and she won't have to go into harness. good-morning. i shall try to come out early. i hope you will make yourselves comfortable." mrs. evringham looked at zeke. he was the glass of fashion and the mould of form, but there was no indication in his smooth-shaven, wooden countenance of the comrade to whom jewel had referred in her fragmentary letters. "well, harry!" she exclaimed breathlessly, as the carriage rolled away. her expression elicited a hearty laugh from her husband. "i _never_ was so surprised. how unselfish he is! harry, is it possible that we don't know your father at _all_? think of his proposing to keep, still longer, a disturbing element like our lively little girl!" "oh, i've never believed he bothered himself very much about jewel," returned harry lightly. "you make a mountain out of that. all a child needs is a ten acre lot to let off steam in, and she's had it here. he knows you'll keep her out from under foot. let's accept this pleasure. he probably takes a lot of stock in you after all i told him last night. it's a relief to his pride and everything else that i'm not going to disgrace the name. he wants to do something for you. that's the whole thing in a nutshell; and you let him do it, julia." in an exuberance of spirits, aided by the fresh, inspiring morning, the speaker took his wife in his arms, as they stood there on the wide veranda, and hugged her heartily. "do you think i shall get over my awe of him?" she half laughed, but her tone was sincere. "i'm so unused to people who never smile and seem to be enduring me. oh, if you were only going to stay, too, harry, then it would be a vacation indeed!" "here, here! where are your principles? who's afraid now?" "but he's so stately and forbidding, and i shall feel such a responsibility of keeping jewel from troubling him." harry laughed again. "she seems entirely capable of paddling her own canoe. she didn't seem troubled by doubts or compunctions in the carriage last night; and up there in the bedroom when she flew at him! how was that for a case of _lèse majesté_? gad, at her age i'd sooner have tackled a lighted fuse! what do you suppose it was she whispered to him?" "i've no idea, and i must say i was curious enough to ask her while i was putting her to bed; but do you know, she wouldn't say!" the mother laughed. "she sidled about,--you know how she does when she is reluctant to speak, and seemed so embarrassed that i have to laugh when i think of it." "perhaps it concerned some surprise she has persuaded father to give us." "no, it couldn't be that, because she answered at last that she'd tell me when she was a young lady." they both laughed. "well," said harry, "she isn't afraid of him so you'd notice it; and you can give her a few pointers so she needn't get in father's way now that she has you again. he has evidently been mighty considerate of the little orphan." "how good he has been!" returned julia fervently. "if we could only go home with you, harry," she added wistfully, "while there's so much good feeling, and before anything happens to alter it!" "where are your principles?" asked harry again. "you know better than to think anything will happen to alter it." "yes, i do, i do; but i always have to meet my shyness of strangers, and it makes my heart beat to think of your going off and leaving me here. being tête-à-tête with your father is appalling, i must confess." "oh, well, it wouldn't do to slight his offer, and it will do you a world of good." "you'll have to send me my summer gowns." "i will." "dear me, am i really going to _do_ it?" asked julia incredulously. "certainly you are. we'd be imbecile not to accept such an opportunity." "then," she answered resignedly, "if it is fact and not a wild fancy, we have a lot of business to talk over, harry. let us make the most of our time while jewel is asleep." she led the way back to the chairs, and they were soon immersed in memoranda and discussion. chapter v the lifted veil at last their plans were reduced to order and harry placed the papers carefully in his pocket. "come in and let's have a look at the house, julia," he suggested. "it won't do to go to the stables without jewel." they entered the drawing-room and julia moved about admiring the pictures and carvings, and paused long before the oil portrait of a beautiful woman, conspicuously placed. "that's my grandmother," remarked harry. "isn't she stunning? that's the side of the family i didn't take after." while they still examined the portrait and the exquisite painting of its laces, jewel ran into the room and seized them from behind. "well, well, all dressed!" exclaimed her father as the two stooped to kiss her. "yes, but my hair isn't very nice," said the child, putting up her hand to her braids, "because i didn't want to be late to breakfast." her father's hearty laugh rang out. "lunch, do you mean?" "we're through breakfast long ago, dearie," said her mother. "no wonder you slept late. we wanted you to." "breakfast's all through!" exclaimed the child, and they were surprised at her dismay. "yes, but mrs. forbes will get you something," said her father. "but has grandpa gone?" asked the child. before they could reply the housekeeper passed the door and jewel ran to her. "has grandpa gone, mrs. forbes?" she repeated anxiously. "yes, indeed, it's after ten. come into the dining-room, jewel; sarah will give you your breakfast." "i'm not a bit hungry--yes, i am, a little--but what is grandpa's telephone number, mrs. forbes." "oh, now, you won't call him up, dear," said the housekeeper coaxingly. "come and eat your breakfast like a good girl." "yes, in just one minute i will. what is the number, please, mrs. forbes?" the housekeeper gave the number, and harry and julia drew nearer. "your grandpa is coming out early, jewel," said her father. "you'll see him in a few hours, and you can ask him whatever you wish to then." "she never has called mr. evringham up, sir," said the housekeeper. "he speaks to _her_ sometimes. you know, jewel, your grandfather doesn't like to be disturbed in his business and called to the 'phone unless it is something very important." "it is," returned the child, and she ran to the part of the hall where the instrument was situated. her mother and father followed, the former feeling that she ought to interfere, but the latter amused and curious. "my little girl," began julia, in protest, but harry put his hand on her arm and detained her. jewel was evidently filled with one idea and deaf to all else. with her usual energy she took down the receiver and made her request to the central office. harry drew his wife to where they could watch her absorbed, rosy face. her listening expression was anxiously intent. mrs. forbes also lingered at a little distance, enjoying the parents' interest and sharing it. "is that you, grandpa?" asked the sweet voice. "oh, well, i want to see mr. evringham." "what? no. i'm sorry, but nobody will do but grandpa. you tell him it's jewel, please." "what? i thought i _did_ speak plain. it's _jewel_; his little grandchild." the little girl smiled at the next response. "yes, i'm the very one that ate the nesselrode pudding," she said, and chuckled into the 'phone. by this time even julia had given up all thought of interfering, and was watching, curiously, the round head with its untidy blond hair. jewel spoke again. "i'm sorry i can't tell you the business, but it's _very_ important." evidently the earnestness of this declaration had an effect. after a minute more of waiting, the child's face lighted. "oh, grandpa, is that you?" "yes, i am. i'm _so_ sorry i slept too long!" "yes, i know you missed me, and now i have to eat my breakfast without you. why didn't you come and bring me downstairs?" "oh, but i _would_ have. did you feel very sorry when you got in the brougham, grandpa?" "i know it. did the ride seem _very_ long, all alone?" "yes, indeed. i felt so sorry inside when i found you'd gone, i had to hear you speak so as to get better so i could visit with mother and father." "yes, it _is_ a comfort. are you _sure_ you don't feel sorry now?" "well, but are you smiling, grandpa?" whatever the answer was to this, it made jewel's anxious brows relax and she laughed into the 'phone. "grandpa, you're such a joker! one smile won't make you any fatter," she protested. another listening silence, then:-- "you know the reason i feel the worst, don't you?" "why yes, you do. what we were talking about yesterday." the child sighed. "well, isn't it a comfort about eternity?" "yes, indeed, and i guess i'll kiss the 'phone now, grandpa. can you hear me?" "well, you do it, too, then. yes--yes--i hear it; and you'll come home early because you know--our secret?" "what? a lot of men waiting for you? all right. you know i love you just the same, even if i _did_ sleep, don't you?" "good-by, then, good-by." she hung up the receiver and turned a beaming face upon her dumbfounded parents. "now i'll have breakfast," she said cheerfully. "i'll only eat a little because we must go out and see star. you waited for me, didn't you?" pausing in sudden apprehension. "yes, indeed," replied harry, collecting himself. "we haven't been off the piazza." "goody. i'm so glad. i'll hurry." mrs. forbes followed the child as she bounded away, and the father and mother sank upon an old settle of flemish oak, gazing at one another. the veil having been completely lifted from their eyes, each was viewing recent circumstances in a new light. at last harry began to laugh in repressed fashion. "sold, and the money taken!" he ejaculated, softly smiting his knee. his wife smiled, too, but there was a mist in her eyes. "i smell a large mouse, julia. how is it with you?" "you mean my invitation?" "i mean that we come under the head of those things that can't be cured and must be endured." she nodded. "and that's why he wants to take me to the seashore." "yes, but all the same he's got to do it to carry his point. you get the fun just the same." the moisture that rose to harry's eyes was forced there by the effort to repress his mirth. "by jinks, the governor kissing the 'phone! i'll never get over that, never," and he exploded again. his wife laid her hand on his arm. "oh, harry, can't you see how touching it is?" "i'll sue him for alienating my daughter's affections. see if i don't. why, we're not in it at all. did you feel our insignificance when she found he'd gone? we've been blockheads, julia, blockheads." "we're certainly figureheads," she returned, rather ruefully. "i don't like to feel that your father has to pay such a price for the sake of keeping jewel a little longer." "'t won't hurt him a bit. it's a good joke on him. if he doesn't go ahead and take you now, i'll bring another suit against him for breach of promise." julia was looking thoughtfully into space. "i believe," she said, at last, "that we may find out that jewel has been a missionary here." "she's given father a brand new heart," returned harry promptly. "that's plain." "let us not say a word to the child about the plan for her and me to stay," said julia. "let us leave it all for mr. evringham." "all right; only he won't think you're much pleased with the idea." "i'm not," returned the other, smiling. "i'm a little dazed; but if he was the man he appeared to be the day we left jewel with him, and she has loved him into being a happier and better man, it may be a matter of duty for us not to deprive him of her at once. i'll try to resign myself to the rôle of necessary baggage, and even try to conceal from him the fact that i know my place." "oh, my girl, you'll have him captured in a week, and jewel will have a rival. you have the same knack she has for making the indifferent different." at this juncture the housekeeper came back into the hall. "well, mrs. forbes," said harry, rising, "that was rather amusing important business jewel had with my father." the housekeeper held up her hands and shook her head. "such lovers, sir," she responded. "such lovers! whatever he's going to do without her is more than i know." "why, it's a big change come over father, to be fond of children," returned the young man, openly perplexed. "_children!_" repeated the housekeeper. "if you suppose, mr. harry, that jewel is any common child, you must have had a wonderful experience." her impressive, almost solemn manner, sobered the father's mood. "what she is, is the result of what her mother has taught her," he returned. "not one of us wanted her when she came," said the housekeeper, looking from one to the other of the young couple standing before her. "not one person in the house was half civil to her." julia's hand tightened on her husband's arm. "i didn't want anybody troubling mr. evringham. people called him a hard, cold, selfish man; but i knew his trials, yes, mr. harry, you know i knew them. he was my employer and it was my business to make him comfortable, and i hated that dear little girl because i'd made up my mind that she'd upset him. well, jewel didn't know anything about hate, not enough to know it when she saw it. she just loved us all, through thick and thin, and you'll have to wait till you can read what the recording angel's set down, before you can have any full idea of what she's done for us. she's made a humble woman out of me, and i was the stiff-neckedest member of the congregation. there's my only child, zeke; she's persuaded him out of habits that were breaking up our lives. there was eloise evringham, without hope or god in the world. she gave her both, that little jewel did. then, most of all, she crept into mr. evringham's empty heart and filled it full, and made his whole life, as you might say, blossom again. that's what she's done, single handed, in two months, and she has no more conceit of her work than a ray of god's sunshine has when it's opening a flower bud." julia evringham's gaze was fixed intently upon the speaker, and she was unconscious that two tears rolled down her cheeks. "you've made us very happy, telling us this," she said, rather breathlessly, as the housekeeper paused. "and i should like to add, mrs. evringham," said mrs. forbes impressively, "that you'd better turn your attention to an orphan asylum and catch them as young as you can and train them up. what this old world wants is a whole crop of jewels." julia's smile was very sweet. "we may all have the pure child thought," she returned. mrs. forbes passed on upstairs. harry looked at his wife. he was winking fast. "well, this isn't any laughing matter, after all, julia." "no, it's a matter to make us very humble with joy and gratitude." as she spoke jewel bounded back into the hall and ran into her father's open arms. "a good breakfast, eh?" he asked tenderly. "yes, i didn't mean to be so long, but sarah said grandpa wanted me to eat a chop. now, _now_, we're going to see star!" "i'd better fix your hair first," remarked her mother. "oh, let her hair go till lunch time," said harry. "the horses won't care, will they, jewel?" he picked her up and set her on his shoulder and out they went to the clean, spacious stables. zeke pulled down his shirt-sleeves as he saw them coming. "this is my father and mother, zeke," cried the child, happily, and the coachman ducked his head with his most unprofessional grin. "jewel's got a great pony here," he said. "well, i should think so!" remarked harry, as he and his wife followed where the child led, to a box stall. "why, jewel, he's right out of a story!" said her mother, viewing the wavy locks and sweeping tail, as the pony turned eagerly to meet his mistress. jewel put her arms around his neck and buried her face for an instant in his mane. "i haven't anything for you, star, this time," she said, as the pretty creature nosed about her. "mother, do you see his star?" "indeed i do," replied mrs. evringham, examining the snowflake between the full, bright eyes. "he's the prettiest pony i ever saw, jewel. did your grandpa have him made to order?" zeke shrugged his gingham clad shoulders. "he would have, if he could, ma'am," he put in. mrs. evringham laughed. "well, he certainly didn't need to. oh, see that beautiful head!" for essex maid looked out to discover what all the disturbance was about. harry paused in his examination of the pony, to go over to the mare's stall. "whew, what a stunner!" he remarked. "mr. evringham said you were to ride her this morning, sir, if you liked. you'll be the first, beside him." zeke paused and with a comical gesture of his head indicated the child and then the mare. "it's been nip and tuck between them, sir; but i guess jewel's got the maid beat by now." harry laughed. "two blue ribbons, she's won, sir. she'll get another this autumn if he shows her." "i should think so. she's a raving beauty." as he spoke, harry smoothed the bright coat. "when are we going out, jewel?" "but we couldn't leave mother," returned the child, from her slippery perch on the pony's back. she had been thinking about it. "are you sure, zeke, that grandpa said father might ride essex maid?" "he told me so, himself," said harry, amused. jewel shook her head, much impressed. "then he loves you about the most of anybody," she remarked, with conviction. "don't think of me," said her mother. "you and father do just what you like. i can be happy just looking about this beautiful place." "oh, i know what," exclaimed jewel, with sudden brightness. "let's all go to the ravine of happiness before lunch time, and then wait for grandpa, and he can take mother in the phaeton, and father and i can ride horseback." "oh, i'm afraid your grandpa wouldn't like that," returned mrs. evringham quickly. zeke was standing near her. "he would if she said so, ma'am," he put in, in a low tone. julia smiled kindly upon him. harry tossed his head, amused. "it's a case, isn't it, zeke?" he remarked. "yes, sir," returned the coachman. "he comes when he's called, and will eat out of her hand, sir." harry laughed and went back to the pony's stall. "come on, then, jewel, come to my old stamping ground, the ravine." "and if her hair frightens the birds it's your fault," smiled julia, smoothing with both hands the little flaxen head. "the birds have seen me look a great deal worse than this, a great _deal_ worse," said jewel cheerfully. "perhaps they'll think her hair is a nest and sit down in it," suggested her father, as they moved away, the happy child between them, holding a hand of each. the little girl drew in her chin as she looked up at him. "oh, father, you're such a joker!" chapter vi the die is cast "oh, grandpa, we've had the most, _fun_!" cried jewel that afternoon as she ran down the veranda steps to meet the broker, getting out of the brougham. harry and julia were standing near the wicker chairs watching the welcome. they saw mr. evringham stoop to receive the child's embrace, and noted the attention he paid to her chatter as, after lifting his hat to them, he slowly advanced. "father and i played in the ravine the longest while. wasn't it a nice time, father?" "it certainly was a nice, wet time. i am one pair of shoes short, and shall have to travel to chicago in patent leathers." as julia rose she regarded her father-in-law with new eyes. all sense of responsibility had vanished, and her present passive rôle seemed delightful. "i know more about this beautiful place than when you went away," she said. "i feel as if i were at some picturesque resort. it doesn't seem at all as if work-a-day people might live here all the time." "i'm glad you like it," returned the broker, and his quick, curt manner of speech no longer startled her. "have you been driving?" "no, we preferred to have jewel plan our campaign, and she seemed to think that the driving part had better wait for you." the broker turned and looked down at the smooth head with billowy ribbon bows behind the ears. noting his expression, or lack of it, julia wondered, momentarily, if she might have dreamed the episode of kissing into the telephone. "what is your plan, jewel?" he asked. she balanced herself springily on her toes. "i thought two of us in the phaeton and two on horseback," she replied, with relish. "h'm. you in the phaeton and i on star, perhaps." "oh, grandpa, and your feet dragging in the road!" the child's laugh was a gush of merriment. the broker looked back at his daughter-in-law and handed her the large white package he was carrying. "with my compliments, madam." julia flushed prettily as she unwrapped the box. "oh, huyler's!" she exclaimed. "how delicious. thank you so much, father." jewel's eyes were big with admiration. "that's just the kind dr. ballard used to give cousin eloise," she said, sighing. "sometime i'll be grown up!" mr. evringham lifted her into his arms with a quick movement. "that's a far day, thank god," he murmured, his mustache against her hair; then lowering her until he could look into her face: "how have you arranged us, jewel? who drives and who rides?" "perhaps father would like to drive mother in the phaeton," said the child, again on her feet. harry smiled. "your last plan, i thought, was that i should ride the mare." "yes," returned jewel, with some embarrassment. "you won't look so nice as grandpa does on essex maid," she added, very gently, "but if it would be a _pleasure_ to you, father"-- her companions laughed so heartily that the child bored the toe of one shoe into the piazza, and well they knew the sign. "here," said her father hastily, "which of these delicious candies do you want, jewel? oh, how good they look! i tell you you'll have to be quick if you want any. i have only till to-morrow to eat them." "really to-morrow, father!" returned the child, pausing aghast. "to-morrow!" "yes, indeed." "to chicago, do you mean?" "to chicago." he nodded emphatically. jewel turned appealing eyes on her mother. "can't we help it?" she asked in a voice that broke. "i think not, dearie. business must come before pleasure, you know." her three companions looking at the child saw her swallow with an effort. she dropped the chocolate she had taken back into the box. a heroic smile came to her trembling lips as she lifted her eyes to the impassive face of the tall, handsome man beside her. "it's to-morrow, grandpa," she said softly, with a look that begged him to remember. he stooped until his gaze was on a level with hers. she did not touch him. all her forces were bent on self-control. "i have been asking your mother," said mr. evringham, "to stay here a while and take a vacation. hasn't she told you?" jewel shook her head mutely. "i think she will do it if you add your persuasion," continued the broker quietly. "she ought to have rest,--and of course you would stay too, to take care of her." a flash like sunlight illumined the child's tears. mr. evringham expected to feel her arms thrown around his neck. instead, she turned suddenly, and running to her father, jumped into his lap. "father, father," she said, "don't you want us to go with you?" harry cleared his throat. the little scene had moistened his eyes as well. "am i of any consequence?" he asked, with an effort at jocoseness. jewel clasped him close. "oh, father," earnestly, "you know you are; and the only reason i said you wouldn't look so nice on essex maid is that grandpa has beautiful riding clothes, and when he rides off he looks like a king in a procession. you couldn't look like a king in a procession in the clothes you wear to the store, could you, father?" "impossible, dearie." "but i want you to ride her if you'd like to, and i want mother and me to go to chicago with you if you're going to feel sorry." "you really do, eh?" jewel hesitated, then turned her head and held out her hand to mr. evringham, who took it. "if grandpa won't feel sorry," she answered. "oh, i don't know what i want. i wish i didn't love to be with so many people!" her little face, drawn with its problem, precipitated the broker's plans and made him reckless. he said to his son now, that which, in his carefully prepared programme, he had intended to say about three months hence, provided a nearer acquaintance with his daughter julia did not prove disappointing. "i suppose you are not devotedly attached to chicago, harry?" the young man looked up, surprised. "not exactly. so far she has treated me like a cross between a yellow dog and a step-child; but i shall be devoted enough if i ever succeed there." "don't succeed there," returned the broker curtly. "succeed here." harry shook his head. "oh, new york's beyond me. i have a foothold in chicago." "yes," returned the broker, who had the born and bred new yorker's contempt for the windy city. "yes, i know you've got your foot in it, but take it out." "great scott! you'd have me become a rolling stone again?" "no. i'll guarantee you a place where, if you don't gather moss, you'll even write your_self_ down as long-eared." harry's eyes brightened, and he straightened up, moving jewel to one side, the better to see his father. "do you mean it?" he asked eagerly. the broker nodded. "take your time to settle matters in chicago," he said. "if you show up here in september it will be early enough." the young man turned his eyes toward his wife and she met his smile with another. her heart was beating fast. this powerful man of whom, until this morning, she had stood in awe, was going to put a stop to the old life and lift their burdens. so much she perceived in a flash, and she knew it was for the sake of the little child whose cheeks were glowing like roses as she looked from one to another, taking in the happy promise involved in the words of the two men. "father, will you come back here?" she asked, breathing quickly. "i'd be mighty glad to, jewel," he replied. the child leaned toward the broker, to whose hand she still clung. starry lights were dancing in her eyes. "grandpa, are father and mother and i going to live with you--always?" she asked rapturously. "always--if you will, jewel." he certainly had not intended to say it until autumn leaves were falling, and he should have made certain that it was not putting his head into a noose; but the child's face rewarded him now a thousand-fold, and made the moment too sweet for regret. "didn't we _know_ that divine love would take care of us, grandpa?" she asked, with soft triumph. "we _did_ know it--even when i was crying, we knew it. didn't we?" the broker drank in her upturned glance and placed his other hand over the one that was clinging to him. chapter vii mrs. evringham's gifts when mrs. evringham opened her eyes the following morning, it was with a confused sense that some great change had taken place; and quickly came the realization that it was a happy change. as the transforming facts flowed in more clearly upon her consciousness, she covered her eyes quickly with her hand. "'green pastures are before me!'" she thought, and her heart grew warm with gratitude. her husband was asleep, and she arose and went softly to jewel's chamber, and carefully opened the door. to her amazement the bed was empty. its coverings were stripped down and the sweet morning breeze was flooding the spacious room. she returned to her own, wondering how late it might be. her husband stirred and opened his eyes, but before she could speak a ripple of distant laughter sounded on the air. she ran to the window and raised the shade. "oh, come, harry, quick!" she exclaimed, and, half asleep, he obeyed. there, riding down the driveway, they saw mr. evringham and jewel starting off for their morning canter. "how dear they look, how dear!" exclaimed julia. "father is stunning, for a fact," remarked harry, watching alertly. on yesterday's excursion he had ridden essex maid, after all; and he smiled with interest now, in the couple who were evidently talking to one another with the utmost zest as they finally disappeared at a canter among the trees. "it is ideal, it's perfectly ideal, harry." julia drew a long breath. "i was so surprised this morning, to waken and find it reality, after all." she looked with thoughtful eyes at her husband. "i wonder what my new work will be!" she added. "not talking about that already, i hope!" he answered, laughing. "i've an idea you will find occupation enough for one while, in learning to be idle. sit still now and look about you on the work accomplished." "what work?" "that i'm here and that you're here: that the action of truth has brought these wonders about." after breakfast the farewells were said. "you're happy, aren't you, father?" asked jewel doubtfully, as she clung about his neck. "never so happy, jewel," he answered. she turned to her grandfather. "when is father coming back again?" she asked. "as soon as he can," was the reply. "you don't want me until september, i believe," said the young man bluntly. he still retained the consciousness, half amused, half hurt, that his father considered him superfluous. "why, september is almost next winter," said jewel appealingly. mr. evringham looked his son full in the eyes and liked the direct way they met him. "the latchstring will be out from now on, harry i want you to feel that it is your latchstring as much as mine." his son did not speak, but the way the two men suddenly clasped hands gave jewel a very comforted sensation. "and you don't feel a bit sorry to be going alone to chicago?" she pursued, again centring her attention and embrace upon her father. "i tell you i was never so happy in my life," he responded, kissing her and setting her on her feet. "are you going to allow me to drive to the station in your place this morning?" "i'd let you do anything, father," returned jewel affectionately. it touched her little heart to see him go alone away from such a happy family circle, but her mother's good cheer was reassuring. they had scarcely had a minute alone together since mrs. evringham's arrival, and when the last wave had been sent toward the head leaning out of the brougham window, mother and child went up the broad staircase together, pausing before the tall clock whose chime had grown so familiar to jewel since that chilling day when mrs. forbes warned her not to touch it. "everything in this house is so fine, jewel," said the mother. "it must have seemed very strange to you at first." "it did. anna belle and i felt more at home out of doors, because you see god owned the woods, and he didn't care if we broke something, and mrs. forbes used to be so afraid; but it's all much different now," added the child. they went on up to the room where stood the small trunk which was all mrs. evringham had taken abroad for her personal belongings. to many children the moment of their mother's unpacking after a return from a trip is fraught with pleasant and eager anticipation of gifts. in this case it was different; for jewel had no previous journey of her mother's to remember, and her gifts had always been so small, with the shining exception of anna belle, that she made no calculations now concerning the steamer trunk, as she watched her mother take out its contents. each step mrs. evringham took on the rich carpet, each glance she cast at the park through the clear sheets of plate glass in the windows, each smooth-running drawer, each undreamed-of convenience in the closet with its electric light for dark days, impressed her afresh with a sense of wondering pleasure. the lady of her name who had so recently dwelt among these luxuries had accepted them fretfully, as no more than her due; the long glass which now reflected julia's radiant dark eyes lately gave back a countenance impressed with lines of care and discontent. "jewel, i feel like a queen here," said the happy woman softly. "i like beautiful things very much, but i never had them before in my life. come, darling, we must read the lesson." she closed the lid of the trunk. "yes, but wait till i get anna belle." the child ran into her own room and brought the doll. then she jumped into her mother's lap, for there was room for all three in the big chair by the window. some memory made the little girl lift her shoulders. "this was aunt madge's chair," she said. "she used to sit here in the prettiest lace wrapper--i was never in this room before except two or three times,"--jewel's awed tone changed,--"but now my own mother lives here! and cousin eloise would love to know it and to know that i have her room. i mean to write her about it." "you must take me upstairs pretty soon and let me see the chamber that was yours. oh, there is so much to see, jewel; shall we ever get to the end?" mrs. evringham's tone was joyous, as she hugged the child impulsively, and rested her cheek on the flaxen head. "darling," she went on softly, "think what divine love has done for mother, to bring her here! i've worked very hard, my little girl, and though love helped me all the time, and i was happy, i've had so much care, and almost never a day when i had leisure to stop and think about something else than my work. i expected to go right back to it now, with father, and i didn't worry, because god was leading me--but, dearie, when i woke up this morning"--she paused, and as jewel lifted her head, mother and child gazed into one another's eyes--"i said--you know what i said?" for answer the little girl smiled gladly and began to sing the familiar hymn. her mother joined an alto to the clear voice, in the manner that had been theirs for years, and fervently, now, they sang the words:-- "green pastures are before me, which yet i have not seen. bright skies will soon be o'er me, where darkest clouds have been. my hope i cannot measure, my path in life is free, my father has my treasure, and he will walk with me!" jewel looked joyous. "the green pastures were in bel-air park, weren't they?" she said, "and you hadn't seen them, had you?" "no," returned mrs. evringham gently, "and just now there is not a cloud in our bright sky." "father's gone away," returned jewel doubtfully. "only to get ready to come back. it is very wonderful, jewel." "yes, it is. i'm sure it makes god glad to see us so happy." "i'm sure it does; and the best of it is that father knows that it is love alone that brought this happiness, just as it brings all the real happiness that ever comes in the world. he sees that it is only what knowledge we have of god that made it possible for him to come back to what ought to be his, his father's welcome home! father sees that it is a demonstration of love, and that is more important than all; for anything that gives us a stronger grasp on the truth, and more understanding of its working, is of the greatest value to us." "didn't grandpa love father before?" asked jewel, in surprise. "yes, but father disappointed him and error crept in between them, so it was only when father began to understand the truth and ask god to help him, that the discord could disappear. isn't it beautiful that it has, jewel?" "i don't think discord is much, mother," declared the little girl. "of course it isn't," returned her mother. "it isn't anything." "when i first came, grandpa had so many things to make him sorry, and everybody else here was sorry--and now nobody is. even aunt madge was happy over the pretty clothes she had to go away with." "and she'll be happy over other things, some day," returned mrs. evringham, who had already gathered a tolerably clear idea of her sister-in-law. "eloise has learned how to help her." "oh, ye--es! _she_ isn't afraid of discord any more." "now we'll study the lesson, darling. think of having all the time we want for it!" after they had finished, mrs. evringham leaned back in the big chair and patted jewel's knee. opening the bag at her side she took out a small box and gave it to the child, who opened it eagerly. a bright little garnet ring reposed on the white velvet. "oh, oh, _oh_!" cried jewel, delighted. she put on the ring, which just fitted, and then hugged her mother before she looked at it again. "dear little anna belle, when you're a big girl"--she began, turning to the doll, but mrs. evringham interrupted. "wait a minute, jewel, here is anna belle's." she took out another box and, ah, what a charming necklace appeared, brilliant with gems which outshone completely the three little garnets. jewel jumped for joy when she had clasped it about the round neck. "oh, mother, mother!" she exclaimed, patting her mother's cheek, "you kept thinking about us every day, didn't you! kiss your grandma, dearie," which the proud and happy anna belle did with a fervor that threatened to damage mrs. evringham's front teeth. "i brought you something else, jewel," said the mother, with her arms around the child. "i did think of you every day, and on the ship going over, it was pretty hard, because i had never been away from my little girl and i didn't know just what she was doing, and i didn't even know the people she was with; so, partly to keep my thoughts from error, i began to--to make something for you." "oh, what was it?" asked jewel eagerly. "i didn't finish it going over, and i had no time to do so until we were on the steamer coming home again. then i was lighter hearted and happier, because i knew my little darling had found green pastures, but--i finished it. i don't know how much you will care for it." jewel questioned the dark eyes and smiling lips eagerly. "what is it, mother; a bag for my skates?" "no." "a--a handkerchief?" "no." "oh, tell me, mother, i can't wait." mrs. evringham put the little girl down from her lap and going to the trunk took from it the only article it still contained. it was a long, flat book with pasteboard covers tied at the back with little ribbons. as she again took her seat in the big chair, jewel leaned against its arm. "it's a scrap-book full of pictures," she said, with interest. for answer her mother turned the cover toward her so she could read the words lettered distinctly upon it. jewel's story book then mrs. evringham ran her finger along the edges of the volume and let the type-written pages flutter before its owner's delighted eyes. "you've made me some stories, mother!" cried jewel. one of the great pleasures and treats of her life had been those rare half hours when her busy mother had time to tell her a story. her eyes danced with delight. "oh, you're the _kindest_ mother!" she went on, "and you'll have time to read them to me now! anna belle, won't it be the most _fun_? oh, mother, we'll go to the ravine to read, won't we?" mrs. evringham's cheeks flushed and she laughed at the child's joy. "i hope they won't disappoint you," she said. "but you wrote them out of love. how can they?" returned the little girl quickly. "that's so, jewel; that's so, dear." chapter viii the quest flower the garden in the ravine had been put into fine order to exhibit to jewel's father and mother. fresh ferns had been planted around the still pond where anna belle's china dolls went swimming, and fresh moss banks had been constructed for their repose. the brook was beginning to lose the impetuosity of spring and now gurgled more quietly between its verdant banks. it delighted jewel that the place held as much charm for her mother as for herself, and that she listened with as hushed pleasure to the songs of birds in the treetops too high to be disturbed by the presence of dwellers on the ground. it was an ideal spot wherein to read aloud, and the early hours of that sunshiny afternoon found the three seated there by the brookside ready to begin the story book. "now i'll read the titles and you shall choose what one we will take first," said mrs. evringham. jewel's attention was as unwinking as anna belle's, as she listened to the names. "anna belle ought to have first choice because she's the youngest. then i'll have next, and you next. anna belle chooses the quest flower; because she loves flowers so and she can't imagine what that means." "very well," returned mrs. evringham, smiling and settling herself more comfortably against a tree trunk. "the little girl in this story loved them too;" and so saying, jewel's mother began to read aloud:-- the quest flower hazel wright learned to love her uncle dick badger very much during a visit he made at her mother's home in boston. she became well acquainted with him. he was always kind to her in his quiet way, and always had time to take her on his knee and listen to whatever she had to tell about her school or her plays, and even took an interest in her doll, ella. mrs. wright used to laugh and tell her brother that he was a wonderful old bachelor, and could give lessons to many a husband and father; upon which uncle dick responded that he had always been fond of assuming a virtue if he had it not; and hazel wondered if "assuming-a-virtue" were a little girl. at any rate, she loved uncle dick and wished he would live with them always; so it will be seen that when it was suddenly decided that hazel was to go home with him to the town where he lived, she was delighted. "father and i are called away on business, hazel," her mother said to her one day, "and we have been wondering what to do with you. uncle dick says he'll take you home with him if you would like to go." "oh, yes, i would," replied the little girl; for it was vacation and she wanted an outing. "uncle dick has a big yard, and ella and i can have fun there." "i'm sure you can. uncle dick's housekeeper, hannah, is a kind soul, and she knew me when i was as little as you are, and will take good care of you." the evening before hazel and her uncle were to leave, mrs. wright spoke to her brother in private. "it seems too bad not to be able to write aunt hazel that her namesake is coming," she said. "is she as bitter as ever?" "oh, yes. no change." "just think of it!" exclaimed mrs. wright. "she lives within a stone's throw of you, and yet can remain unforgiving so many years. let me see--it is eight; for hazel is ten years old, and i know she was two when the trouble about the property camp up; but you did right, dick, and some time aunt hazel must know it." "oh, i think she has lucid intervals when she knows it now," returned mr. badger; "but her pride won't let her admit it. if it amuses her, it doesn't hurt me for her to pass me on the street without a word or a look. when a thing like that has run along for years, it isn't easy to make any change." "oh, but it is so unchristian, so wrong," returned his sister. "if you only had a loving enough feeling, dick, it seems as if you might take her by storm." mr. badger smiled at some memory. "i tried once. she did the storming." he shrugged his shoulders. "i'm a man of peace. i decided to let her alone." mrs. wright shook her head. "well, i haven't told hazel anything about it. she knows she is named for my aunt; but she doesn't know where aunt hazel lives, and i wish you would warn hannah not to tell the child anything about her or the affair. you know we lay a great deal of stress on not voicing discord of my kind." "yes, i know," mr. badger smiled and nodded. 'your methods seem to have turned out a mighty nice little girl, and it's been a wonder to me ever since i came, to see you going about, such a different creature from what you used to be." "yes, i'm well and happy," returned mrs. wright, "and i long to have this trouble between you and aunt hazel at an end. i suppose hazel isn't likely to come in contact with her at all." "no, indeed; no more than if aunt hazel lived in kamschatka. she does, if it's cold enough there." "dear woman. she ignored the last two letters i wrote her, i suppose because i sided with you." "oh, certainly, that would be an unpardonable offense. hannah tells me she has a crippled child visiting her now, the daughter of some friends. hannah persists in keeping an eye on aunt hazel's affairs, and telling me about them. hannah will be pleased to have little hazel to make a pet of for a few weeks." he was right. the housekeeper was charmed. she did everything to make hazel feel at home in her uncle's house, and discovering that the little girl had a passion for flowers, let her make a garden bed of her own. hazel went with her uncle to buy plants for this, and she had great fun taking geraniums and pansies out of their pots and planting them in the soft brown earth of the round garden plot; and every day blue-eyed ella, her doll, sat by and watched hazel pick out every little green weed that had put its head up in the night. "you're only grass, dearie," she would say to one as she uprooted it, "and grass is all right most everywhere; but this is a garden, so run away." not very far down the street was a real garden, though, that gave hazel such joy to look at that she carried ella there every day when it didn't rain, and would have gone every day when it did, only hannah wouldn't let her. the owner of the garden, miss fletcher, at the window where she sat sewing, began to notice the little stranger at last; for the child stood outside the fence with her doll, and gazed and gazed so long each time, that the lady began to regard her with suspicion. "that young one is after my flowers, i'm afraid, flossie," she said one day to the pale little girl in the wheeled chair that stood near another window looking on the street. "i've noticed her ever so many times," returned flossie listlessly. "i never saw her until this week, and she's always alone." "well, i won't have her climbing on my fence!" exclaimed miss fletcher, half laying down her work and watching hazel's movements sharply through her spectacles. "there, she's grabbing hold of a picket now!" she exclaimed suddenly. "i'll see to her in quick order." she jumped up and hurried out of the room, and flossie's tired eyes watched her spare figure as she marched down the garden path. she didn't care if miss fletcher did send the strange child away. what difference could it make to a girl who had the whole world to walk around in, and who could take her doll and go and play in some other pleasant place? as hazel saw miss fletcher coming, she gazed at the unsmiling face looking out from hair drawn back in a tight knot; and miss fletcher, on her part, saw such winning eagerness in the smile that met her, that she modified the sharp reproof ready to spring forth. "get down off the fence, little girl," she said. "you oughtn't ever to hang by the pickets; you'll break one if you do." "oh, yes," returned hazel, getting down quickly. "i didn't think of that. i wanted so much to see if that lily-bud had opened, that looked as if it was going to, yesterday; and it has." "which one?" asked miss fletcher, looking around. "right there behind that second rosebush," replied hazel, holding ella tight with one arm while she pointed eagerly. "oh, yes." miss fletcher went over to the plant. "i think it is the loveliest of all," went on the little girl. "it makes me think of the quest flower." "what's that?" miss fletcher looked at the strange child curiously. "i never heard of it." "it's the perfect flower," returned hazel. "where did you ever see it?" "i never did, but i read about it." "where is it to be bought?" miss fletcher was really interested now, because flowers were her hobby. "in the story it says at the public garden; but i've been to the public garden in boston, and i never saw any i thought were as beautiful as yours." hazel was not trying to win miss fletcher's heart, but she had found the road to it. the care-lined face regarded her more closely than ever. "i don't remember you. i thought i knew all the children around here." "no 'm. i'm a visitor. i live in boston; and we have a flat and of course there isn't any yard, and i think your garden is perfectly beautiful. i come to see it every day, and it's fun to stand out here and count the smells." miss fletcher's face broke into a smile. it did really seem as if it cracked, because her lips had been set in such a tight line. "it ain't very often children like flowers unless they can pick them," she replied. "i can't sleep nights sometimes, wishing my garden wasn't so near the fence." the little girl smiled and pointed to a climbing rose that had strayed from its trellis, and one pink flower that was poking its pretty little face between the pickets. "see that one," she said. "i think it wanted to look up and down the street, don't you?" "and you didn't gather it," returned miss fletcher, looking at hazel approvingly. "well, now, for anybody fond of flowers as you are, i think that was real heroic." "she belongs to nice folks," she decided mentally. "oh, it was a tame flower," returned the child, "and that would have been error. if it had been a wild one i would have picked it." "error, eh?" returned miss fletcher, and again her thin lips parted in a smile. "well, i wish everybody felt that way." "uncle dick lets me have a garden," said hazel. "he let me buy geraniums and pansies and lemon verbena--i love that, don't you?" "yes. i've got a big plant of it back here. wouldn't you like to come in and see it?" "oh, thank you," returned hazel, her gray eyes sparkling; and miss fletcher felt quite a glow of pleasure in seeing the happiness she was conferring by the invitation. most of her friends took her garden as a matter of course; and smiled patronizingly at her devotion to it. in a minute the little girl had run to the gate in the white fence, and, entering, joined the mistress of the house, who stood beside the flourishing plants blooming in all their summer loveliness. for the next fifteen minutes neither of the two knew that time was flying. they talked and compared and smelled of this blossom and that, their unity of interest making their acquaintance grow at lightning speed. miss fletcher was more pleased than she had been for many a day, and as for hazel, when her hostess went down on her knees beside a verbena bed and began taking steel hairpins from her tightly knotted hair, to pin down the luxuriant plants that they might go on rooting and spread farther, the little girl felt that the climax of interest was reached. "i'm going to ask uncle dick," she said admiringly, "if i can't have some verbenas and a paper of hairpins." "dear me," returned miss fletcher, "i wish poor flossie took as much interest in the garden as you do." "'flossie' sounds like a kitten, returned hazel. "she's a little human kitten: a poor little afflicted girl who is making me a visit. you can see her sitting up there in the house, by the window." hazel looked up and caught a glimpse of a pale face. her eyes expressed her wonder. "who afflicted her?" she asked softly. "her heavenly father, for some wise purpose," was the response. "oh, it couldn't have been that!" returned the child, shocked. "you know god is love." "yes, i know," replied miss fletcher, turning to her visitor in surprise at so decided an answer from such a source; "but it isn't for us to question what his love is. it's very different from our poor mortal ideas. there's something the matter with poor flossie's back, and she can't walk. the doctors say it's nervous and perhaps she'll outgrow it; but i think she gets worse all the time." hazel watched the speaker with eyes full of trouble and perplexity. "dear me," she replied, "if you think god made her get that way, who do you think 's going to cure her?" "nobody, it seems. her people have spent more than they can afford, trying and trying. they've made themselves poor, but nobody's helped her so far." hazel's eyes swept over the roses and lilies and then back to miss fletcher's face. the lady was regarding her curiously. she saw that thoughts were hurrying through the mind of the little girl standing there with her doll in her arms. "you look as if you wanted to say something," she said at last. "i don't want to be impolite," returned hazel, hesitating. "well," returned miss fletcher dryly, "if you knew the amount of impoliteness that has been given to me in my time, you wouldn't hesitate about adding a little more. speak out and tell me what you are thinking." "i was thinking how wonderful and how nice it is that flowers will grow for everybody," said hazel, half reluctantly. "how's that?" demanded her new friend, in fresh surprise. "have you decided i don't deserve them?" "oh, you deserve them, of course," replied the child quickly; "but when you have such thoughts about god, it's a wonder his flowers can grow so beautifully in your yard." miss fletcher felt a warmth come into her cheeks. "well," she returned rather sharply, "i should like to know what sort of teaching you've had. you're a big enough girl to know that it's a christian's business to be resigned to the will of god. you don't happen to have seen many, sick folks, i guess--what is your name?" "hazel." "why, that's queer, so is mine; and it isn't a common one." "isn't that nice!" returned the child. "we're both named hazel and we both love flowers so much." "yes; that's quite a coincidence. now, why shouldn't flowers grow for me, i should like to know?" "why, you think god afflicted that little girl's back, and didn't let her walk. why, miss fletcher," the child's voice grew more earnest, "he wouldn't do it any more than i'd kneel down and break the stem of that lovely quest flower and let it hang there and wither." miss fletcher pushed up her spectacles and gazed down into the clear gray eyes. "does flossie think he would?" added hazel with soft amazement. "i suppose she does." "then does she say her prayers just the same?" "of course she does." "what a kind girl she must be!" exclaimed hazel earnestly. "why do you say that?" "because _i_ wouldn't pray to anybody that i believed kept me afflicted." miss fletcher started back. "why, child!" she exclaimed, "i should think you'd expect a thunderbolt. where do your folks go to church, for pity's sake?" "to the christian science church." "oh--h, that's what's the matter with you! some of flossie's relatives have heard about that, and they've been teasing her mother to try it. i'm sure i'd try anything that wasn't blasphemous." "what is blasphemous?" "why--why--anything that isn't respectful to god is blasphemous." "oh!" returned hazel. then she added softly, "i should think you were that, now." "what!" and miss fletcher seemed to tower above her visitor in her amazement. "oh--please excuse me. i didn't mean to be impolite; but if you'll just _try_, you'll find out what a mistake you and flossie have been making, and that god _wants_ to heal her." the two looked at one another for a silent half-minute, the little girl's heart beating faster under the grim gaze. "you might come and see her some day," suggested miss fletcher, at last. "she has a dull time of it, poor child. i've asked the children to come in, and they've all been very kind, but it's vacation, and a good many that i know have gone away." "i will," replied hazel. "doesn't she like to come out here where the flowers are?" "yes; it's been a little too cloudy and threatening to-day, but if it's clear to-morrow i'll wheel her out under the elm-tree, and she'd like a visit from you. are you staying far from here?" "no, uncle dick's is right on this street." "what's his last name?" "mr. badger," replied hazel, and she didn't notice the sudden stiffening that went through miss fletcher. "what is your last name?" asked the lady, in a changed voice. "wright." this time any one who had eyes for something beside the flowers might have seen miss fletcher start. color flew into her thin cheeks, and the eyes that stared at hazel's straw tam-o'-shanter grew dim. this was dear mabel badger's child; her little namesake, her own flesh and blood. her jaw felt rigid as she asked the next question. "have you ever spoken to your uncle dick about my garden?" "yes, indeed. that's why he let me make one; and every night he asks, 'well, how's miss fletcher's garden to-day,' and i tell him all about it" "and didn't he ever say anything to you about me?" "why, no;" the child looked up wonderingly. "he doesn't know you, does he?" "we used to know one another," returned miss fletcher stiffly. richard had certainly behaved very decently in this particular instance. at least he had told no lies. "hazel is such an unusual name," she went on, after a minute. "who were you named for?" "my mother's favorite aunt," returned the child. "where does she live?" "i don't know," replied hazel vaguely. "my mother was talking to me about her the evening before uncle dick and i left boston. she told me how much she loved aunt hazel; but that error had crept in, and they couldn't see each other just now, but that god would bring it all right some day. i have a lovely silver spoon she gave me when i was a baby." miss fletcher stooped to her border and cut a bunch of mignonette with the scissors that hung from her belt. "here's something for you to smell of as you walk home," she said, and hazel saw her new friend's hand tremble as she held out the flowers. "do you ever kiss strangers?" added the hostess as she rose to her feet. hazel held up her face and took hold of miss fletcher's arm as she kissed her. "i think you've been so kind to me," she said warmly. "i've had the best time!" "well, pick the climbing rose as you pass," returned miss fletcher. "it seems to want to see the world. let it go along with you; and don't forget to come to-morrow. i hope it will be pleasant." she stood still, the warm breeze ruffling the thin locks about her forehead, and watched the little girl trip along the walk. the child looked back and smiled as she stopped to pick the pink rose, and when she threw a kiss to miss fletcher, that lady found herself responding. she went into the house with a flush remaining in her cheeks. "how long you stayed, aunt hazel," said the little invalid fretfully as she entered. "i expect i did," returned miss fletcher, and there was a new life in her tone that flossie noticed. "who is that girl?" "her name is hazel wright, and she is living at the badgers'. she's as crazy about flowers as i am, so we had a lot to say. she gave me a lecture on religion, too;" an excited little laugh escaped between the speaker's lips. "she's a very unusual child; and she certainly has a look of the fletchers." "what? i thought you said her name was wright." "it is! my tongue slipped. she's coming to see you to-morrow, flossie. we must fix up your doll. i'll wash and iron her pink dress this very afternoon; for hazel has a beauty doll, herself. i think you'll like that little girl." that evening when uncle dick and hazel were at their supper, mr. badger questioned her as usual about her day. "i've had the most _fun_," she replied. "i've been to see miss fletcher, and she took me into her garden, and we smelled of all the flowers, and had the loveliest time!" hannah was standing behind the little girl's chair, and her eyes spoke volumes as she nodded significantly at her employer. "yes, sir, she told miss fletcher where she was visiting, and she gave her a bunch of mignonette and a rose to bring home." "yes," agreed hazel, "they're in a vase in the parlor now, and she asked me to come to-morrow to see an afflicted girl that's living with her. you know, uncle dick," hazel lifted her eyes to him earnestly, "you know how it says everywhere in the bible that anybody that's afflicted goes to god and he heals them; and what do you think! miss fletcher and that little flossie girl both believe god afflicted her and fixed her back so she can't walk!" mr. badger smiled as he met the wondering eyes. "that isn't christian science, is it?" he returned. "i'd rather never have a garden even like miss fletcher's than to think that," declared hazel, as she went on with her supper. "i feel so sorry for them!" "so you're going over to-morrow," said mr. badger. "what are you going to do; treat the little invalid?" "why, no indeed, not unless she asks me to." "why not?" "because it would be error; it's the worst kind of impoliteness to treat anybody that doesn't ask you to; but i've got to know every minute that her belief is a lie, and that god doesn't know anything about it." "i thought god knew everything," said mr. badger, regarding the child curiously. "he does, of course, everything that's going to last forever and ever: everything that's beautiful and good and strong. whatever god thinks about has _got_ to last." the child lifted her shoulders. "i'm glad he doesn't think about mistakes,--sickness, and everything like that, aren't you?" "i don't want sickness to last forever, i'm sure" returned mr. badger. the following day was clear and bright, and early in the afternoon hazel, dressed in a clean gingham frock, took her doll and walked up the street to miss fletcher's. the wheeled chair was already out under the elm-tree, and flossie was watching for her guest. miss fletcher was sitting near her, sewing, and waiting with concealed impatience for the appearance of the bright face under the straw tam-o'-shanter. as soon as hazel reached the corner of the fence and saw them there, she began to run, her eyes fixed eagerly on the white figure in the wheeled chair. the blue eyes that looked so tired regarded her curiously as she ran up the garden path and across the grass to the large, shady tree. hazel had never been close to a sick person, and something in flossie's appearance and the whiteness of her thin hands that clasped the doll in the gay pink dress brought a lump into the well child's throat and made her heart beat. "dear father, i want to help her!" she said under her breath, and miss fletcher noticed that she had no eyes for her, and saw the wondering pity in her face as she came straight up to the invalid's chair. "flossie wallace, this is hazel wright," she said, and flossie smiled a little under the love that leaped from hazel's eyes into hers. "i'm glad you brought your doll," said flossie. "ella goes everywhere i do," returned hazel. "what's your doll's name?" "bernice; i think bernice is a beautiful name," said flossie. "so do i," returned hazel. then the two children were silent a minute, looking at one another, uncertain how to go on. hazel was the first to speak. "isn't it lovely to live with this garden?" she asked. "yes, aunt hazel has nice flowers." "i have an aunt hazel, too," said the little visitor. "miss fletcher isn't my real aunt, but i call her that," remarked flossie. "and _you_ might do it, too," suggested miss fletcher, looking at hazel, to whom her heart warmed more and more in spite of the astonishing charges of the day before. "do you think i could call you aunt hazel?" asked the child, rather shyly. "for the sake of being cousin to my garden, you might. don't you think so?" "how is the quest flower to-day?" asked hazel. "which? oh, you mean the garden lily. there's another bud." "oh, may i look at it?" cried hazel, "and wouldn't you like to come too?" turning to flossie. "can't i roll your chair?" "yes, indeed," said miss fletcher, pleased. "it rolls very easily. give flossie your doll, too, and we'll all go and see the lily bud." hazel obeyed, and carefully pushing the light chair, they moved slowly toward the spot where the white chalices of the garden lilies poured forth their incense. "miss fletcher," cried hazel excitedly, dropping on her knees beside the bed, "that is going to be the most beautiful of all. when it is perfectly open the plant will be ready to take to the king." the little girl lifted her shoulders and looked up at her hostess, smiling. "what king is going to get my lily?" "the one who will send you on your quest." "what am i to go in quest of?" inquired miss fletcher, much entertained. "i don't know;" hazel shook her head. "every one's errand is different." "what is a quest?" asked flossie. "you tell her, hazel." "why, mother says it's a search for some treasure." "you must tell us this story about the quest flower some day," said miss fletcher. "i have the story of it here," returned hazel eagerly. "i've read it over and over again because i love it, and so mother put it in my trunk with my christian science books. i can bring it over and read it to you, if you want me to. you'd like it, i know, miss fletcher." "aunt hazel told me you were a christian scientist," said flossie. "i never saw one before, but people have talked to mother about it." "i could bring _those_ books over, too," replied hazel wistfully, "and we could read the lesson every day, and perhaps it would make you feel better." "i don't know what it's about," said flossie. "it's about making sick people well and sinful people good." "i'm sinful, too, part of the time," answered flossie. "sometimes i don't like to live, and i wish i didn't have to, and everybody says that's sinful." sudden tears started to miss fletcher's eyes, and as the little girls were looking at one another absorbedly, hazel standing close to the wheeled chair, she stole away, unobserved, to the house. "she ought to be cured," she said to herself excitedly. "she ought to be cured. there's that one more chance, anyway. i've got to where i'm ready to let the babes and sucklings have a try!" chapter ix the quest flower (_continued_) the next morning was rainy, and jewel and her grandfather visited the stable instead of taking their canter. "and what will you do this dismal day?" asked the broker of his daughter-in-law as they stood alone for a minute after breakfast, jewel having run upstairs to get anna belle for the drive to the station. "this happy day," she answered, lifting to him the radiant face that he was always mentally contrasting with madge. "the rain will give me a chance to look at the many treasures you have here, books and pictures." "h'm. you are musical, i know, for jewel has the voice of a lark. do you play the piano?" julia looked wistfully at the steinway grand. "ah, if i only could!" she returned. mr. evringham cleared his throat. "madam," he said, lowering his voice, "that child has a most amazing talent." "jewel's voice, do you mean?" "she'll sing, i'm sure of it," he replied, "but i mean for music in general. eloise is an accomplished pianist. she has one piece that jewel especially enjoyed, the old spring song of mendelssohn. probably you know it." julia shook her head. "i doubt it. i've heard very little good piano playing." "well, madam, that child has picked out the melody of that piece by herself," the broker lowered his voice to still deeper impressiveness. "as soon as we return in the autumn, we will have her begin lessons." julia's eyes met his gratefully. "a very remarkable talent. i am positive of it," he went on. "jewel," for here the child entered the room, "play the spring song for your mother, will you?" "now? zeke is out there, grandpa." "dick can stretch his legs a bit faster this morning. play it." so jewel set anna belle on a brocaded chair and going to the piano, played the melody of the spring song. she could perform only a few measures, but there were no false notes in the little chromatic passages, and her grandfather's eyes sought julia's in grave triumph. "a very marvelous gift," he managed to say to her again under his breath, as jewel at last ran ahead of him out to the porte cochère. julia's eyes grew dreamy as she watched the brougham drive off. how different was to be the future of her little girl from anything she had planned in her rosiest moments of hopefulness. the more she saw of mr. evringham's absorbed attachment to the child, the more grateful she was for the manner in which he had guarded jewel's simplicity, the self-restraint with which he had abstained from loading her with knickknacks or fine clothes. the child was not merely a pet with him. she was an individual, a character whose development he respected. "god keep her good!" prayed the mother. it was a charming place to continue the story, there in the large chintz chair by mrs. evringham's window. the raindrops pattered against the clear glass, the lawn grew greener, and the great trees beyond the gateway held their leaves up to the bath. "anna belle's pond will overflow, i think," said jewel, looking out the window musingly. "and how good for the ferns," remarked her mother. "yes, i'd like to be there, now," said the child. "oh, i think it's much cosier here. i love to hear the rain, too, don't you?" "yes, i do, and we'll have the story now, won't we, mother?" at this moment there was a knock at the door and zeke appeared with an armful of birch wood. "mr. evringham said it might be a little damp up here and i was to lay a fire." "oh, yes, yes!" exclaimed jewel. "mother, wouldn't you like to have a fire while we read?" mrs. evringham assented and zeke laid the sticks on the andirons and let jewel touch the lighted match to the little twigs. "i have the loveliest book, zeke," she said, when the flames leaped up. "my mother made it for me, and you shall read it if you want to." "yes, if zeke wants to," put in mrs. evringham, smiling, "but you'd better find out first if he does. this book was written for little girls with short braids." "oh, zeke and i like a great many of the same things," responded jewel earnestly. "that's so, little kid," replied the young coachman, "and as long as you're going to stay here, i'll read anything you say." "you see," explained jewel, when he had gone out and closed the door softly, "zeke said it made his nose tingle every time he thought of anybody else braiding star's tail, so he's just as glad as anything that we're not going away." the birch logs snapped merrily, and anna belle sat in jewel's lap watching the leaping flame, while mrs. evringham leaned back in her easy chair. the reading had been interrupted yesterday by the arrival of the hour when mrs. evringham had engaged to take a drive with her father-in-law. jewel accompanied them, riding star, and it was great entertainment to her mother to watch the child's good management of the pretty pony who showed by many shakes of the head and other antics that it had not been explained to his satisfaction why essex maid was left out of this good time. jewel turned to her mother. "we're all ready now, aren't we? do go on with the story. i told grandpa about it, driving to the station this morning, and what do you suppose he asked me?" the child drew in her chin. "he asked me if i thought flossie was going to get well!" mrs. evringham smiled. "well, we'll see," she replied, opening the story-book. "where were we?" "miss fletcher had just gone into the house and flossie had just said she was sinful. she wasn't to blame a bit!" "oh, yes, here it is," said mrs. evringham, and she began to read:-- * * * * * as hazel met flossie's look, her heart swelled and she wished her mother were here to take care of this little girl who had fallen into such a sad mistake. "i wish i knew how to tell you better, flossie, about god being love," she said; "but he is, and he didn't send you your trouble." "perhaps he didn't send it," returned flossie, "but he thinks it's good for me to have it or else he'd let the doctors cure me. i've had the kindest doctors you ever heard of, and they know everything about people's backs." "but god will cure you, himself," said hazel earnestly. a strange smile flitted over the sick child's lips. "oh, no, he won't. i asked him every night for a year, and over and over all day; but i never ask him now." "oh, flossie, i know what's the truth, but i don't know how to tell about it very well; but everything about you that seems not to be the image and likeness of god is a lie; and he doesn't see lies, and so he doesn't know these mistakes you're thinking; but he _does_ know the strong, well girl you really are, and he'll help _you_ to know it, too, when you begin to think right." the sincerity and earnestness in her visitor's tone brought a gleam of interest into flossie's eyes. "just think of being well and running around here with me, and think that god wants you to!" "oh, do you believe he does?" returned flossie doubtfully. "mother says it will do my soul good for me to be sick, if i can't get well." hazel shook her head violently. "you know when jesus was on earth? well, he never told anybody it was better for them to be sick. he healed everybody, _everybody_ that asked him, and he came to do the will of his father; so god's will doesn't change, and it's just the same now." there was a faint color in flossie's cheeks. "if i was sure god wanted me to get well, why then i'd know i would some time." "of course he does; but you didn't know how to ask him right." "do _you_?" asked flossie. hazel nodded. "yes; not so well as mother, but i do know a little, and if you want me to, i'll ask him for you." "well, of course i do," returned flossie, regarding her visitor with grave, wondering eyes. in a minute miss fletcher, watching the children through a window, beheld something that puzzled her. she saw hazel roll flossie's chair back under the elm-tree, and saw her sit down on the grass beside it and cover her eyes with both hands. "what game are they playing?" she asked herself; and she smiled, well pleased by the friendship that had begun. "i wish health was catching," she sighed. "little hazel's a picture. i wonder how long it'll be before she finds out who i am. i wonder what richard's idea is in not telling her." she moved about the house a few minutes, and then returned, curiously, to the window. to her surprise matters were exactly as she saw them last. flossie was, holding both dolls in the wheeled chair, and hazel was sitting under the tree, her hands over her eyes. a wave of amazement and amusement swept over miss fletcher, and she struck her hands together noiselessly. "i _do_ believe in my heart," she exclaimed, "that hazel wright is giving flossie one of those absent treatments they tell about! well, if i ever in all my born days!" there was no more work for miss fletcher after this, but a restless moving about the room until she saw hazel bound up from the ground. then she hurried out of the house and walked over to the tree. hazel skipped to meet her, her face all alight. "oh, miss fletcher, flossie wants to be healed by christian science. if my mother was only here she could turn to all the places in the bible where it tells about god being love and healing sickness." miss fletcher noted the new expression in the invalid's usually listless face, and the new light in her eyes. "i'll take my bible," she answered, "and a concordance. i'll bring them right now. you children go on playing and i'll find all the references i can, and flossie and i will read them after you've gone." miss fletcher brought her books out under the tree, and with pencil and paper made her notes while the children played with their dolls. "let's have them both your children, flossie," said hazel. "oh, yes," replied flossie, "and they'll both be sick, and you be the doctor and come and feel their pulses. aunt hazel has my doll's little medicine bottles in the house. she'll tell you where they are." hazel paused. "let's not play that," she returned, "because--it isn't fun to be sick and--you're going to be all done with sickness." "all right," returned flossie; but it had been her principal play with her doll, bernice, who had recovered from such a catalogue of ills that it reflected great credit on her medical man. "i'll be the maid," said hazel, "and you give me the directions and i'll take the children to drive and to dancing-school and everywhere you tell me." "and when they're naughty," returned flossie, "you bring them to me to spank, because i can't let my servants punish my children." hazel paused again. "let's play you're a christian scientist," she said, "and you have a christian science maid, then there won't be any spanking; because if error creeps in, you'll know how to handle it in mind." "oh!" returned flossie blankly. but hazel was fertile in ideas, and the play proceeded with spirit, owing to the lightning speed with which the maid changed to a coachman, and thence to a market-man or a gardener, according to the demands of the situation. miss fletcher, her spectacles well down on her nose, industriously searched out her references and made record of them, her eyes roving often to the white face that was fuller of interest than she had ever seen it. when four o'clock came, she went back to the house and returned with flossie's lap table, which she leaned against the tree trunk. this afternoon lunch for the invalid was always accomplished with much coaxing on miss fletcher's part, and great reluctance on flossie's. the little girl took no notice now of what was coming. she was too much engrossed in hazel's efforts to induce miss fletcher's maltese cat to allow bernice to take a ride on his back. but when the hostess returned from the house the second time, hazel gave an exclamation. miss fletcher was carrying a tray, and upon it was laid out a large doll's tea-set. it was of white china with gold bands, and when flossie saw hazel's admiration, she exclaimed too. "this was my tea-set when i was a little girl," said miss fletcher, "and i was always very choice of it. twenty years ago i had a niece your age, hazel, who used to think it was the best fun in the world to come to aunt hazel's and have lunch off her doll's tea-set. i used to tell her i was going to give it to _her_ little girl if she ever had one." both children exclaimed admiringly over the quaint shape of the bowl and pitchers, as miss fletcher deposited the tray on her sewing-table. "when i was a child we didn't smash up handsome toys the way children do nowadays. they weren't so easy to get." "and didn't your niece ever have a little girl?" asked flossie, beginning to think that in such a case perhaps these dear dishes might come to be her own. "yes, she did," replied miss fletcher kindly, and as she looked at the guest's interested little face her eyes were thoughtful. "i shall give them to her some day." "has she ever seen them?" asked hazel. "once. i thought you children must be hungry after your games, and you'd like a little lunch." this idea was so pleasing to hazel that flossie caught her enthusiasm. "you'll be the mistress and pour, flossie, and i'll be the waitress," she said. "won't it be the most _fun_! i suppose, ma'am, you'll like to have the children come to the table?" she added, with sudden respectfulness of tone. "yes," returned flossie, with elegant languor. "i think it teaches them good manners." and then the waitress forgot herself so far as to hop up and down; for miss fletcher, who had returned to the house, now reappeared bearing a tray of eatables and drinkables. what a good time the children had, with the sewing-table for a sideboard, and the lap-table fixed firmly across flossie's chair. "are you sure you aren't getting too tired, dear?" asked miss fletcher of her invalid, doubtfully. "wouldn't you rather the waitress poured?" but flossie declared she was feeling well, and hazel looked up eagerly into miss fletcher's eyes and said, "you know she can't get too tired unless we're doing wrong." "oh, indeed!" returned the hostess dryly. "then there's nothing to fear, for she's doing the rightest kind of right." when the table was set forth, two small plates heaped high with bread-and-butter sandwiches, a coffee-pot and milk-pitcher of beaten egg and milk, a tea-pot of grape juice, one dish of nuts and another of jelly, the waitress's eyes spoke so eloquently that flossie mercifully dismissed her on the spot, and invited a lady of her acquaintance to the feast, who immediately drew up a chair with eager alacrity. miss fletcher seated herself again and looked on with the utmost satisfaction, while the children laughed and ate, and when the sandwich plates and coffee-pot and tea-pot and milk-pitcher were all emptied, she replenished them from the well-furnished sideboard. "my, i wish i was aunt hazel's real little niece!" exclaimed flossie, enchanted with pouring from the delightful china. "so do i wish i was," said hazel, looking around at her hostess with a smile that was returned. when hazel sat down to supper at home that evening, she had plenty to tell of the delightful afternoon, which made mr. badger and hannah open their eyes to the widest, although she did not suspect how she was astonishing them. "i tell you," she added, in describing the luncheon, "we were careful not to break that little girl's dishes. oh, i wish you could see them. they're the most be-_au_tiful you ever saw. they're so big--big enough for a child's real ones that she could use herself." "i judge you did use them," said uncle dick. "well, i guess we did! miss fletcher--she wants me to call her aunt hazel, uncle dick!" the child looked up to observe the effect of this. he nodded. "do it, then. perhaps she'll forget and give you the dishes." hazel laughed. "well, anyway, she said flossie'd eaten as much as she usually did in two whole days. isn't it beautiful that she's going to get well?" "i wouldn't talk to her too much about it," returned mr. badger. "it would be cruel to disappoint her." this sort of response was new to hazel. she gazed at her uncle a minute. "that's error," she said at last. "god doesn't disappoint people. they'll get some grown-up scientist, but until they do, i'll declare the truth for flossie every day. she'll get well. you'll see. "i hope so," returned mr. badger quietly. old hannah gave her employer a wink over the child's head. "you might ask them to come here by your garden and have lunch some day, hazel. i'll fix things up real nice for you, even if we haven't got any baby dishes." "i'd love to," returned hazel, "and i expect they'd love to come. to-morrow i'm going to take the lesson over and read it with them, and i'm going to read them the 'quest flower,' too. it's a story that aunt hazel will just love. i think she has one in her yard." "well, mr. richard," said hannah, after their little visitor had gone to bed, "i see the end of one family feud." mr. badger smiled. "when miss fletcher consents to take lunch in my yard, i shall see it, too," he replied. the next day was pleasant, also, and when hazel appeared outside her aunt's fence, flossie was sitting under the tree and waved a hand to her. the white face looked pleased and almost eager, and miss fletcher called:-- "come along, hazel. i guess flossie got just tired enough yesterday. she slept last night the best she has since she came." "yes," added the little invalid, smiling as her new friend drew near, "the night seemed about five minutes long." "that's the way it does to me," returned hazel. she had her doll and some books in her arms, and miss fletcher took the latter from her. "h'm, h'm," she murmured, as she looked over the titles. "you have something about christian science here." "yes, i thought i'd read to-day's lesson to flossie before i treated her, and you'd let us take your bible." "i certainly will. i can tell you, hazel, flossie and i were surprised at the number of good verses and promises i read to her last evening. anybody ought to sleep well after them." hazel looked glad, and miss fletcher let her run into the house to bring the bible, for it was on the hall table in plain sight. while she was gone the hostess smoothed flossie's hair. "i can tell you, my dear child, that reading all those verses to you last night made me feel that we don't any of us live up to our lights very well. 'tisn't always a question of sick bodies, flossie." hazel came bounding back to the elm-tree, and sitting down near the wheeled chair, opened the bible and two of the books she had brought, and proceeded to read the lesson. had she been a few years older, she would not have attempted this without a word of explanation to two people to whom many of the terms of her religion were strange, but no doubts assailed her. the little white girl in the wheeled chair was going to get out of it and run around and be happy--that was all hazel knew, and she proceeded in the only way she knew of to bring it about. miss fletcher's thin lips parted as she listened to the sentences that the child read. she understood scarcely more than flossie of what they were hearing, excepting the bible verses, and these did not seem to bear on the case. it was hazel's perfectly unhesitating certainty of manner and voice which most impressed her, and when the child had finished she continued to stare at her unconsciously. "now," said hazel, returning her look, "i guess i'd better treat her before we begin to play." her hostess started. "oh!" she ejaculated, "then i suppose you'd rather be alone." "yes, it's easier," returned the little girl. miss fletcher, feeling rather embarrassed, gathered up her sewing and moved off to the house. "if i ever in all my born days!" she thought again. "what would flossie's mother say! well, that dear little girl's prayers can't do any harm, and if she isn't a smart young one i never saw one. she's fletcher clear through. i'd like to know what richard badger thinks of her. if she'd give _him_ a few absent treatments it might do him some good." miss fletcher's lips took their old grim line as she added this reflection, but she was not altogether comfortable. her nephew's action in withholding from hazel the fact that it was her aunt whom she was visiting daily could scarcely have other than a kindly motive; and that long list of bible references which she had read to flossie last evening had stirred her strangely. there was one, "he that loveth not, knoweth not god, for god is love," which had followed her to bed and occupied her thoughts for some time. now she went actively to work preparing the luncheon which she intended serving to the children later. "and i'd better fix enough for two laboring men," she thought, smiling. later, when she went back under the tree, her little guest skipped up to her. "oh, aunt hazel," she said, and the address softened the hostess's eyes, "won't you and flossie come to-morrow afternoon if it's pleasant, and have lunch beside my garden?" miss fletcher's face changed. this was a contingency that had not occurred to her. "oh, do say yes," persisted the child. "i want you to see my flowers, and flossie says she'd love to. i'll come up and wheel her down there." "flossie can go some day, yes," replied aunt hazel reluctantly; "but i don't visit much. i'm set in my ways." "hannah, uncle dick's housekeeper, suggested it herself," pursued hazel, thinking that perhaps her own invitation was not sufficient, "and i know uncle dick would be glad. you said," with sudden remembrance, "that you used to know him." miss fletcher's lips were their grimmest. "i've spanked him many a time," she replied deliberately. "spanked him!" repeated the child, staring in still amazement. the grim lips crept into a grimmer smile. "not very hard; not hard _enough_, i've thought a good many times since." hazel recovered her breath. "you knew him when he was little?" "i certainly did. no, child, don't ask me to go out of my tracks. you come here all you will, and if you'll be very careful you can wheel flossie up to your garden some day. come, now, are you going to read us that story? i see you brought it." "yes, i brought it," replied hazel, in a rather subdued voice. she saw that there was some trouble between this kind, new friend and her dear uncle dick, and the discovery astonished her. how could grown-up people not forgive one another? miss fletcher seated herself again with her sewing, and hazel took the little white book and sat down close by the wheeled chair where flossie was holding both the dolls. "do you like stories?" she asked. "yes, when they're not interesting," returned flossie; "but when mother brings a book and says it's very interesting, i know i shan't like it." hazel laughed. "well, hear this," she said, and began to read:-- * * * * * once there was a very rich man whose garden was his chief pride and joy. in all the country around, people knew about this wonderful garden, and many came from miles away to look at the rare trees and shrubs, and the beautiful vistas through which one could gain glimpses of blue water where idle swans floated and added their snowy beauty to the scene. but loveliest of all were the rare flowers, blossoming profusely and rejoicing every beholder. it was the ambition of the man's life to have the most beautiful garden in the world; and so many strangers as well as friends told him that it was so that he came to believe it and to be certain that no beauty could be added to his enchanting grounds. one evening, as he was strolling about the avenues, he strayed near the wall and suddenly became aware of a fragrance so sweet and strange that he started and looked about him to find its source. becoming more and more interested each moment, as he could find only such blossoms as were familiar to him, he at last perceived that the wonderful perfume floated in from the public way which ran just without the wall. instantly calling a servant he dispatched him to discover what might be the explanation of this delightful mystery. the servant sped and found a youth bearing a jar containing a plant crowned with a wondrous pure white flower which sent forth this sweetness. the servant endeavored to bring the bearer to his master, but the youth steadily refused; saying that, the plant being now in perfection, he was carrying it to the king, for in his possession it would never fade. the servant returning with this news, the owner of the garden hastened, himself, and overtook the young man. when his eyes beheld the wondrous plant, he demanded it at any price. "i cannot part with it to you," returned the youth, "but do you not know that at the public garden a bulb of this flower is free to all?" "i never heard of it," replied the man, with excitement, "but to grow it must be difficult. promise me to return and tend it for me until i possess a plant as beautiful as yours." "that would be useless," returned the youth, "for every man must tend his own; and as for me, the king will send me on a quest when he has received this flower, and i shall not return this way." his face was radiant as he proceeded on his road, and the rich man, filled with an exceeding longing, hastened to the public garden and made known his desire. he was given a bulb, and was told that the king provided it, but that when the plant was in flower it must be carried to him. the man agreed, and returning to his house, rejoicing, caused the bulb to be planted in a beautiful spot set apart for its reception. but, strangely, as time went on, his gardeners could not make this plant grow. the man sent out for experts, men with the greatest wisdom concerning the ways of flowers, but still the bulb rested passive. the man offered rewards, but in vain. his garden was still famous and praised for its beauty far and near; but it pleased him no longer. his heart ached with longing for the one perfect flower. one night he lay awake, mourning and restless, until he could bear it no more. he rose, the only waking figure in the sleeping castle, and went out upon a balcony. a flood of moonlight was turning his garden to silver, and suddenly a nightingale's sobbing song pulsed upon the air and filled his heart to bursting. wrapping his mantle about him, he descended a winding stair and walked to where, in the centre of the garden, reposed his buried hope. no one was by to witness the breaking down of his pride. he knelt, and swift tears fell upon the earth and moistened it. what wonder was this? he brushed away the blinding drops, the better to see, for a little green shoot appeared from the brown earth, and, with a leap of the heart, he perceived that his flower had begun to grow. every succeeding night, while all in the castle were sleeping, he descended to the garden and tended the plant. steadily it grew, and finally the bud appeared, and one fair day it burst into blossom and filled the whole garden with its perfume. the thought of parting with this treasure tugged at the man's very heartstrings. "the king has many, how many, who can tell! must i give up mine to him? not yet. not quite yet!" so he put off carrying away the perfect flower from one day to the next, till at last it fell and was no more worthy. ah, then what sadness possessed the man's soul! he vowed that he would never rest until he had brought another plant to perfection and given it to the king; for he realized, at last, that only by giving it, could its loveliness become perennial. yet he mourned his perfect flower, for it seemed to him no other would ever possess such beauty. so he set forth again to the public garden, but there a great shock awaited him. he found that no second bulb could be vouchsafed to any one. very sadly he retraced his steps and carefully covered the precious bulb, hoping that when the season of storm and frost was past, there might come to it renewed life. as soon as the spring began to spread green loveliness again across the landscape, the man turned, with a full heart, to the care and nurture of his hope. the winter of waiting had taught him many a lesson. he tended the plant now with his own hands, in the light of day and in the sight of all men. long he cherished it, and steadily it grew, and the man's thought grew with it. finally the bud appeared, increasing and beautifying daily, until, one morning, a divine fragrance spread beyond the farthest limits of that garden, for the flower had bloomed, spotless, fit for a holy gift; and the man looked upon it humbly and not as his own; but rejoiced in the day of its perfection that he might leave all else behind him, and, carrying it to the king, lay it at his feet and receive his bidding; and so go forth upon his joyous quest. * * * * * hazel closed the book. flossie was watching her attentively. miss fletcher had laid down her sewing and was wiping her spectacles. "did you like it?" asked hazel. "yes," replied flossie. "i wish i knew what that flower was." "mother says the blossom is consecration," replied hazel. "i forget what she said the bulb was. what do you think it was, aunt hazel?" "humility, perhaps," replied miss fletcher. "yes, that's just what she said! i remember now. oh, let's go and look at yours and see how the bud is to-day." hazel sprang up from the grass and carefully pushed flossie's chair to the flower-bed. "oh, aunt hazel, it's nearly out," she cried, and miss fletcher, who had remained behind still polishing her spectacles with hands that were not very steady, felt a little frightened leap of the heart. she wished the quest flower would be slower. the afternoon was as happy a one to the children as that of the day before. they greatly enjoyed the dainty lunch from the little tea-set. they had cocoa to-day instead of the beaten egg and milk; then, just before hazel went home, miss fletcher let her water the garden with a fascinating sprinkler that whirled and was always just about to deluge either the one who managed it or her companions. in the child's little hands it was a dangerous weapon, but miss fletcher very kindly and patiently helped her to use it, for she saw the pleasure she was bestowing. that night hazel had a still more joyous tale to tell of her happy day; and uncle dick went out doors with her after supper and watched her water her own garden bed and listened to her chatter with much satisfaction. "so miss fletcher doesn't care to come and lunch in my yard," he remarked. "no," returned hazel, pausing and regarding him. "she says she used to know you well enough to spank you, too." mr. badger laughed. "she certainly did." "then error must have crept in," said the little girl, "that she doesn't know you now." "i used to think it had, when she got after me." the child observed his laughing face wistfully, "she didn't know how to handle it in mind, did she?" "not much. a slipper was good enough for her." "well, i don't see what's the matter," said hazel. "'tisn't necessary, little one. you go on having a good time. everything will come out all right some day." as mr. badger spoke he little knew what activity was taking place in his aunt's thought. her heart had been touched by the surprising arrival and sympathy of her namesake, and her conscience had been awakened by the array of golden words from the bible which she had not studied much during late bitter years. the story of the quest flower, falling upon her softened heart, seemed to hold for her a special meaning. in the late twilight that evening she stood alone in her garden, and the opening chalice of the perfect lily shone up at her through the dusk. "only a couple of days, at most," she murmured, "not more than a couple of days--and humility was the root!" when it rained the following morning, flossie looked out the window rather disconsolately; but after dinner her face brightened, for she saw hazel coming up the street under an umbrella. tightly held in one arm were ella and a bundle of books and doll's clothes. miss fletcher welcomed the guest gladly, and, after disposing of her umbrella, left the children together and took her sewing upstairs where she sat at work by a window, frowning and smiling by turns at her own thoughts. occasionally she looked down furtively at her garden, where in plain view the quest flower drank in the warm rain and opened--opened! by this time flossie and hazel were great friends, and the expression of the former's face had changed even in three days, until one would forget to call her an afflicted child. they had the lesson and the treatment this afternoon, and then their plays, and when lunch time came the appetites of the pair did not seem to have been injured by their confinement to the house. when the time came for hazel to go it had ceased raining, and miss fletcher went with her to the gate. "oh, oh, aunt hazel--see the quest flower!" exclaimed the child. true, a lily, larger, fairer than all the rest, reared itself in stately purity in the centre of the bed. miss fletcher turned and looked at it with startled eyes and pressed her hand to her heart. "why can't the thing give a body time to make up her mind!" she murmured. "oh, to-morrow, _to-morrow_, aunt hazel, the sun will come out, and i know just how that lily will look. it will be fit to take to the king!" miss fletcher passed her arm around the child's shoulders. "i want you to stay to supper with us to-morrow night, dear. ask your uncle if you may." "thank you, i'd love to," returned the child, and was skipping off. "wait a minute." miss fletcher stooped and with her scissors cut a moss rose so full of sweetness that as she handed it to her guest, hazel hugged her. the following day was fresh and bright. flossie's best pink gown and hair ribbons made her look like a rose, herself, to hazel, as the little girl, very fine in a white frock and ribbons, came skipping up the street. miss fletcher stood watching them as her niece ran toward the wheeled chair. the lustre in flossie's eyes made her heart glad; but the visitor stopped short in the midst of the garden and clasped her hands. "oh, aunt hazel!" she cried, "the quest flower!" miss fletcher nodded and slowly drew near. the stately lily looked like a queen among her subjects. "yes, it is to-day," she said softly, "to-day." she could not settle to her sewing, but, leaving the children together for their work and play, walked up and down the garden paths. later she went into the house and upstairs and put on her best black silk dress. an unusual color came into her cheeks while she dressed. "the bulb was humility," she murmured over and over, under her breath. the afternoon was drawing to a close when miss fletcher at last moved out of doors and to the elm-tree. "i didn't bring you any lunch to-day," she said to the children, "because i want you to be hungry for a good supper." "can we have the dishes just the same?" asked flossie. "the owner is going to have them to-night," replied miss fletcher, and both the little girls regarded her flushed face with eager curiosity. "why, have you asked her?" they cried together. "yes." "does she know she's going to have the tea-set?" "no." "oh, what fun!" exclaimed flossie. "i didn't know she was in town." "yes, she is in town." miss fletcher turned to hazel and put her hand on the child's shoulder. "we must do everything we can to celebrate taking the flower to the king." only then the children noticed that aunt hazel had her bonnet on. "oh," cried the child, bewildered, "are you going to _do_ it?" miss fletcher met her radiant eyes thoughtfully. "if i should take the flower of consecration to the king, hazel, i know what would be the first errand he would give me to do. i am going to do it now. go on playing. i shan't be gone long." she moved away down the garden path and out of the gate. "what do you suppose it is?" asked flossie. "i don't know," returned hazel simply. "something right;" and then they took up their dolls again. miss fletcher did not return very soon. in fact, nearly an hour had slipped away before she came up the street, and then a man was with her. as they entered the gate hazel looked up. "uncle dick, uncle dick!" she cried gladly, jumping up and running to meet him. he and miss fletcher both looked very happy, as they all moved over to flossie's chair. mr. badger's kind eyes looked down into hers and he carried her into the house in his strong arms. hazel followed, rolling the chair and having many happy thoughts; but she did not understand even a little of the situation until they all went into the dining-room and flossie was carefully seated in the place the hostess indicated. the white and gold tea-set was not in front of flossie this time, but grouped about another place. hazel's quick eyes noted that there were four seats, but before she had time to speak of the expected child--happy owner of the tea-set--uncle dick spoke:-- "where do i go, aunt hazel?" the child's eyes widened at such familiarity. "why, uncle dick!" she ejaculated. he and the hostess both regarded her, smiling. "she is my aunt," he said; and then he lifted hazel into the chair before the pretty china. "i believe these are your dishes," he added. the child leaned back in her chair and looked from one to another. slowly, slowly, she understood. that was the aunt hazel who gave her the silver spoon. it had been aunt hazel all the time! she suddenly jumped down from her chair, and, running to miss fletcher, hugged her without a word. aunt hazel embraced her very tenderly. "yes, my lamb," she whispered, "error crept in, but it has crept out again, i hope forever;" and through the wide-open windows came the perfume of the quest flower: pure, strong, beautiful,--radiantly white in the evening glow. * * * * * before hazel went back to boston, flossie's mother came to miss fletcher's, and the change for the better in her little daughter filled her with wonder and joy. with new hope she followed the line of treatment suggested by a little girl, and by the time another summer came around, two happy children played again in aunt hazel's garden, both as free as the sweet air and sunshine, for divine love had made flossie "every whit whole." chapter x the apple woman's story jewel told her grandfather all about it that day while they were having their late afternoon ride. "and so the little girl got well," he commented. "yes, and could run and play and have the most _fun_!" returned jewel joyously. "and aunt hazel made it up with her nephew." "yes. why don't people know that all they have to do is to put on more love to one another? just supposing, grandpa, that you hadn't loved me so much when i first came." "h'm. it _is_ fortunate that i was such an affectionate old fellow!" "mother says we all have to tend the flower and carry it to the king before we're really happy. do you know it made us both think of the same thing when at last the man did it." "what was that?" "our hymn:-- 'my hope i cannot measure, my path in life is free, my father has my treasure and he will walk with me!' don't you begin to love mother very much, grandpa?" "she is charming." "of course she isn't your real relation, the way i am." "oh, come now. she's my daughter." jewel smiled at him doubtfully. "but so is aunt madge," she returned. "why, jewel, i'm surprised that any one who looks so tall as you do in a riding skirt shouldn't know more than that! mrs. harry evringham is _your_ mother." "i never thought of that," returned the child seriously. "why, so she is." "that brings her very close, very close, you see," said mr. evringham, and his reasoning was clear as daylight to jewel. at dinner that evening she was still further reassured. the child did not know that the maids in the house, having been scornfully informed by aunt madge of mrs. harry's business, were prepared to serve her grudgingly, and regard her visit as being merely on sufferance despite mrs. forbes's more optimistic view. but the spirit that looked out of mrs. evringham's dark eyes and dwelt in the curves of her lips came and saw and conquered. jewel had won the hearts of the household, and already its unanimous voice, after the glimpses it had had of her mother during two days, was that it was no wonder. even the signs of labor that appeared in julia's pricked fingers made the serenity of her happy face more charming to her father-in-law. she had jewel's own directness and simplicity, her appreciation and enjoyment of all beauty, the child's own atmosphere of unexacting love and gratitude. every half hour that mr. evringham spent with her lessened his regret at having burned his bridges behind him. "now, you mustn't be lonely here, julia," he said, that evening at dinner. "i have come to be known as something of a hermit by choice; but while madge and eloise lived with me, i fancy they had a good many callers, and they went out, to the mild degree that society smiles upon in the case of a recent widow and orphan. they were able to manage their own affairs; but you are a stranger in a strange land. if you desire society, give me a hint and i will get it for you." "oh, no, father!" replied julia, smiling. "there is nothing i desire less." "mother'll get acquainted with the people at church," said jewel, "and i know she'll love mr. and mrs. reeves. they're grandpa's friends, mother." "yes," remarked mr. evringham, busy with his dinner, "some of the best people in bel-air have gone over to this very strange religion of yours, julia. i shan't be quite so conspicuous in harboring two followers of the faith as i should have been a few years ago." "no, it is becoming quite respectable," returned julia, with twinkling eyes. "three, grandpa, you have three here," put in jewel. "you didn't count zeke." mrs. evringham looked up kindly at mrs. forbes, who stood by, as usual, in her neat gown and apron. "zeke is really in for it, eh, mrs. forbes?" mr. evringham asked the question without glancing up. "yes, sir, and i have no objection. i'm too grateful for the changes for the better in the boy. if jewel had persuaded him to be a fire worshiper i shouldn't have lifted my voice. i'd have said to myself, 'what's a little more fire here, so long as there'll be so much less hereafter.'" mrs. evringham laughed and the broker shook his head. "mrs. forbes, mrs. forbes, i'm afraid your orthodoxy is getting rickety," he said. "how about your own, father?" asked julia. "oh, i'm a passenger. you see, i know that jewel will ask at the heavenly gate if i can come in, and if they refuse, they won't get her, either. that makes me feel perfectly safe." jewel watched the speaker seriously. mr. evringham met her thoughtful eyes. "oh, they'll want you, jewel. don't you be afraid." "i'm not afraid. how could i be? but i was just wondering whether you didn't know that you'll have to do your own work, grandpa." he looked up quickly and met julia's shining eyes. "dear me," he responded, with an uncomfortable laugh. "don't i get out of it?" the next morning when jewel had driven back from the station, and she and her mother had studied the day's lesson, they returned to the ravine, taking the story book with them. before settling themselves to read, they counted the new wild flowers that had unfolded, and jewel sprinkled them and the ferns, from the brook. "did you ever see anybody look so pretty as anna belle does, in that necklace?" exclaimed jewel, fondly regarding her child, enthroned against the snowy trunk of a little birch-tree. "it isn't going to be your turn to choose the story this morning, dearie. here, i'll give you a daisy to play with." "wait, jewel, i think anna belle would rather see it growing until we go, don't you?" "would you, dearie? yes, she says she would; but when we go, we'll take the sweet little thing and let it have the fun of seeing grandpa's house and what we're all doing." "it seems such a pity, to me, to pick them and let them wither," said mrs. evringham. "why, i think they only seem to wither, mother," replied jewel hopefully. "a daisy is an idea of god, isn't it?" "yes, dear." "when one seems to wither and go out of sight, we only have to look around a little, and pretty soon we see the daisy idea again, standing just as white and bright as ever, because god's flowers don't fade." "that's so, jewel," returned the mother quietly. the child drew a long breath. "i've thought a lot about it, here in the ravine. at first i thought perhaps picking a violet might be just as much error as killing a bluebird; and then i remembered that we pick the flower for love, and it doesn't hurt it nor its little ones; but nobody ever killed a bird for love." mrs. evringham nodded. "now it's my turn to choose," began jewel, in a different tone, settling herself near the seat her mother had taken. mrs. evringham opened the book and again read over the titles of the stories. "let's hear 'the apple woman's story,'" said jewel, when she paused. her mother looked up. "do you remember good old chloe, who used to come every saturday to scrub for me? well, something she told me of an experience she once had, when she was a little girl, put the idea of this tale into my head; and i'll read you the apple woman's story franz and emilie and peter wenzel were little german children, born in america. their father was a teacher, and his children were alone with him except for the good old german woman, anna, who was cook and nurse too in the household. she tried to teach franz and emilie to be good children, and took great care of peter, the sturdy three-year-old boy, a fat, solemn baby, whose hugs were the greatest comfort his father had in the world. franz and emilie had learned german along with their english by hearing it spoken in the house, and it was a convenience at times, for instance, when they wished to say something before the colored apple woman which they did not care to have her understand; but the apple woman did not think they were polite when they used an unknown tongue before her. "go off fum here," she would say to them when they began to talk in german. "none o' that lingo round my stand. go off and learn manners." and when franz and emilie found she was in earnest they would ask her to forgive them in the politest english they were acquainted with; for they were very much attached to the clean, kind apple woman, whose stand was near their father's house. they admired her bright bandana headdress and thought her the most interesting person in the world. as for the apple woman, she had had so many unpleasant experiences with teasing children that she did not take franz and emilie into her favor all at once, but for some time accepted their pennies and gave them their apples when they came to buy, watching them suspiciously with her sharp eyes to make sure that they were not intending to play her any trick. but even before they had become regular customers she decided under her breath that they were "nice chillen;" and when she came to know them better her kind heart overflowed to them. one morning as they smiled and nodded to her on the way to school, she called out and beckoned. "apples for the little baskets?" "not to-day," answered emilie. she beckoned to them again with determination, and the children approached. "we forgot to brush our teeth last night," explained franz, "so we haven't any penny." "i forgot it," said emilie, "and franz didn't remind me, so we neither of us got it. that's the way anna makes us remember." "never you mind, honey, here's apples for love," replied the colored woman, holding up two rosy beauties. the children looked at one another and shook their heads. "thank you," said emilie, "but we can't. papa said the last time you gave them to us that if we ate your apples without paying for them we mustn't come to visit you any more." "now think o' that!" exclaimed the apple woman when the children had gone on. she was much touched and pleased to know that franz and emilie would rather come and sit and talk to her and listen to her stories than to eat her apples. she was right; they were nice children; but they had their naughty times, and good old anna was often greatly troubled by them. she felt her responsibility of the whole family very deeply, and tried to talk no more german. these children must grow up to be good americans, and she must not hold them back. it was very hard for the poor woman to remember always to speak english, and funny broken english it was; so that little peter, hearing it all the time, had a baby talk of his own that was very comical and different from other children. he talked about the "luckle horse" he played with, and the "boomps" he got when he fell down, and he was very brave and serious, as became a fat baby boy who had to take care of himself a great deal. anna was so busy cooking and mending for a family of five she was very glad of the hours when mr. wenzel worked at home at his desk and baby peter could stay in the same room with him and play with his toys. mr. wenzel was a kind father and longed as far as possible to fill the place of mother also to his children, who loved him dearly. to little peter he was all-powerful. a kiss from papa soothed the hardest "boomp" that his many tumbles gave him; but even peter realized that when papa was at his desk he was very busy indeed, and though any of the children might sit in the room with him, they must not speak unless it was absolutely necessary. emilie was now eight years old, and she might have helped her father and anna more than she did; but she never thought of this. she loved to read, especially fairy stories, and she often curled up on the sofa in her father's room and read while peter either played about the room with his toys, or went to papa's desk and stood with his round eyes fixed on mr. wenzel's face until the busy man would look up from his papers and ask: "what does my peter want?" especially did emilie fly to this refuge in papa's room after a quarrel with franz, and i'm sorry to say she had a great many. the apple woman found out that the little brother and sister were not always amiable. anna had confided in her; and then one day the children approached her stand contradicting each other, their voices growing louder and louder as they came, until at last franz made a face at emilie, giving her a push, and she, quick as a kitten, jumped forward and slapped him. what franz would have done after this i don't know, if the apple woman hadn't said, "chillen, chillen!" so loud that he stopped to look at her. "ah, listen at that fairy slap-back a-laughin'!" cried the apple woman. "the fairy flapjack?" asked franz, as he and his sister forgot their wrath and ran toward the stand. "_flapjack!_" repeated the apple woman with scorn, as the children nestled down, one each side of her. "yo' nice chillen pertendin' not to know yo' friends!" "what friends? what?" asked emilie eagerly. "the fairy slap-back. p'raps i didn't see her jest now, a-grinnin' over yo' shoulder." "is she anybody to be afraid of?" asked emilie, big-eyed. "to be sho' she is if you-all go makin' friends with her," returned the apple woman, with a knowing sidewise nod of her head. then drawing back from the children with an air of greatest surprise, "you two don't mean to come here tellin' me you ain't never heerd o' the error-fairies?" she asked. "never," they both replied together. "shoo!" exclaimed the apple woman. "if you ain't the poor igno'antest w'ite chillen that ever lived. why, if you ain't never heerd on 'em, yo're likely to be snapped up by 'em any day in the week as you was jest now." "oh, tell us. do tell us!" begged franz and emilie. "co'se i will, 'case 't ain't right for them mis'able creeturs to be hangin' around you all, and you not up to their capers. fust place they're called the error-fairies 'case they're all servants to a creetur named error. she's a cheat and a humbug, allers pertendin' somethin' or other, and she makes it her business to fight a great and good fairy named love. now love--oh, chillen, my pore tongue can't tell you of the beauty and goodness o' the fairy love! she's the messenger of a great king, and spends her whole time a-blessin' folks. her hair shines with the gold o' the sun; her eyes send out soft beams; her gown is w'ite, and when she moves 'tis as if forget-me-nots and violets was runnin' in little streams among its folds. ah, chillen," the apple woman shook her head, "she's the blessin' o' the world. her soft arms are stretched out to gather in and comfort every sorrowin' heart. "well, 'case she was so lovely an' the great king trusted her, error thought she'd try her hand; but she hadn't any king, error hadn't. there wa'n't nobody to stand for her or to send her on errands. she was a low-lifed, flabby creetur," the apple woman made a scornful grimace; "jest a misty-moisty nobody; nothin' to her. her gown was a cloud and she wa'n't no more 'n a shadder, herself, until she could git somebody to listen to her. when she did git somebody to listen to her, she'd begin to stiffen up and git some backbone and git awful sassy; so she crep' around whisperin' to folks that love was no good, and 'lowin' that she--that mis'able creetur--was the queen o' life. "some folks knowed better and told her so, right pine blank, an' then straight off she'd feel herself changin' back into a shadder, an' sail away as fast as she could to try it on somebody else. she was ugly to look at as a bad dream, but yet there was lots o' folks would pay 'tention to her, and after they'd listened once or twice, she kep' gittin' stronger and pearter, an' as she got stronger, they got weaker, and every day it was harder fer 'em to drive her off, even after they'd got sick of her. "then, even if she didn't have a king, she had slaves; oh, dozens and dozens of error-fairies, to do her will. creepin' shadders they was, too, till somebody listened to 'em and give 'em a backbone. there's--let me see"--the apple woman looked off to jog her memory--"there's laziness, selfishness, backbitin', cruelty--oh, i ain't got time to tell 'em all; an' not one mite o' harm in one of 'em, only for some silly mortal that listens and gives the creetur a backbone. they jest lop over an' melt away, the whole batch of 'em, when love comes near. she knows what no-account humbugs they are, you see; and they jest lop over an' melt away whenever even a little chile knows enough to say 'go off fum here, an' quit pesterin''!" franz and emilie stared at the apple woman and listened hard. their cheeks matched the apples. "what happened a minute ago to you-all? an error-creetur named slap-back whispered to you. 'quarrel!' says she. what'd you do? did you say 'go off, you triflin' vilyun'? "not a bit of it. you quarreled; an' slap-back kep' gittin' bigger and stronger and stiffer in the backbone while you was goin' it, an' at last up comes this little hand of emilie's. whack! that was the time slap-back couldn't hold in, an' she jest laughed an' laughed over yo' shoulder. ah, the little red eyes she had, and the wiry hair! and that other one, the fairy, love, she was pickin' up her w'ite gown with both hands an' flyin' off as if she had wings. of course you didn't notice her. you was too taken up with yo' friend." "but slap-back isn't our friend," declared emilie earnestly. the apple woman shook her head. "bless yo' heart, honey, it's mean to deny it now; but, disown her or not, she'll stick to you and pester you; and you'll find it out if ever you try to drive her off. you'll have as hard a time as little dinah did." "what happened to dinah?" asked franz, picking up the apple woman's clean towel and beginning to polish apples. "drop that, now, chile! yo' friend might cast her eye on it. i don't want to sell pizened apples." franz, crestfallen, obeyed, and glanced at emilie. they had never before found their assistance refused, and they both looked very sober. "little dinah was a chile lived 'way off down south 'mongst the cotton fields; and that good fairy watched over dinah,--love, so sweet to look at she'd make yo' heart sing. "dinah had a little brother, too, jest big enough to walk; an' a daddy that worked from mornin' till night to git hoe-cake 'nuff fer 'em all; and his ole mammy, she helped him, and made the fire, and swept the room, and dug in the garden, and milked the cow. she was a good woman, that ole mammy, an' 't was a great pity there wa'n't nobody to help 'er, an' she gittin' older every day." "why, there was dinah," suggested emilie. the apple woman stared at her with both hands raised. "dinah! lawsy massy, honey, the only thing that chile would do was look at pictur' books an' play with the other chillen. she wouldn't even so much as pick up baby mose when he tumbled down an' barked his shin. oh, but she was a triflin' lazy little nigger as ever you see." "and that's why the red-eyed fairy got hold of her," said franz, who was longing to hear something exciting. "'twas, partly," said the apple woman. "you see there's somethin' very strange about them fairies, love and the error-fairies. the error-fairies, they run after the folks that love themselves, and love can only come near them that loves other people. sounds queer, honey, but it's the truth; so, when dinah got to be a likely, big gal, and never thought whether the ole mammy was gittin' tired out, or tried to amuse little mose, or gave a thought o' pity to her pore daddy who was alone in the world, the fairy love got to feelin' as bad as any fairy could. "'do, dinah,'" she said, with her sweet mouth close to dinah's ear, 'do stop bein' so triflin', and stir yo'self to be some help in the house.' "'no,' says dinah, 'i like better to lay in the buttercups and look at pictur's,' says she. "'then,' says love, 'show mose the pictur's, too, and make him happy.' "'no,' says dinah, 'he's too little, an' he bothers me an' tears my book.' "'then,' says love, 'yo'd rather yo' tired daddy took care o' the chile after his hard day's work.' "'now yo're talkin',' says dinah. 'i shorely would. my daddy's strong.' "the tears came into love's eyes, she felt so down-hearted. 'yo' daddy needs comfort, dinah,' she says, 'an' yo're big enough to give it to him,' says she; 'an' look at the black smooches on my w'ite gown. they're all because o' you, dinah, that i've been friends with so faithful. i've got to leave you now, far enough so's my gown'll come w'ite; but if you call me i'll hear, honey, an' i'll come. good-by,' "'good riddance!' says dinah. 'i'm right down tired o' bein' lectured,' says she. 'now i can roll over in the buttercups an' sing, an' be happy an' do jest as i please.' "so dinah threw herself down in the long grass and, bing! she fell right atop of a wasp, and he was so scared at such capers he stung her in the cheek. whew! you could hear her 'way 'cross the cotton field! "her ole gran'mam comforted her, the good soul. 'never you mind, honey,' she says, 'i'll swaje it fer you.' "but every day dinah got mo' triflin'. she pintedly wouldn't wash the dishes, nor mind little mose; an' every time the hot fire o' temper ran over her, she could hear a voice in her ear--'give it to 'em good. that's the way to do it, dinah!' an' it kep' gittin' easier to be selfish an' to let her temper run away, an' the cabin got to be a mighty pore place jest on account o' dinah, who'd ought to ha' been its sunshine. "as for the fairy, love, dinah never heerd her voice, an' she never called to her, though there was never a minute when she didn't hate the sound o' that other voice that had come to be in her ears more 'n half the time. "one mornin' everything went wrong with dinah. her gran'mam was plum mis'able over her shif'less ways, an' she set her to sew a seam befo' she could step outside the do'. the needle was dull, the thread fell in knots. dinah's brow was mo' knotted up than the thread. her head felt hot. "'say you won't do it,' hissed the voice. "'i'll git thrashed if i do. gran'mam said so.' "'what do you care!' hissed the voice; and jest as the fairy slap-back was talkin' like this, up comes little mose to dinah, an' laughs an' pulls her work away. "then somethin' awful happened. dinah couldn't 'a' done it two weeks back; but it's the way with them that listens to that mis'able, low-lifed slap-back. jest as quick as a wink, that big gal, goin' on nine, slapped baby mose. he was that took back for a minute that he didn't cry; but the hateful voice laughed an' hissed an' laughed again. "good, dinah, good! now you'll ketch it!' "then over went little mose's lip, an' he wailed out, an' dinah clasped her naughty hands an' saw a face close to her--a bad one, with red eyes shinin'. she jumped away from it, for it made her cold to think she'd been havin' sech a playfeller all along. "'oh, love, y' ain't done fergit me, is yer? come back, love, _love_!' she called; then she dropped on her knees side o' mose an' called him her honey an' her lamb, an' she cried with him, an' pulled him into her lap, an' when the ole gran'mam come in from where she'd been feedin' the hens, they was both asleep." franz took a long breath, for the way the apple woman told a story always made him listen hard. "i guess that was the last of old slap-back with dinah," he remarked. the apple woman shook her head. "that's the worst of that fairy," she said. "love'll clar out when you tell 'er to, 'case she's quality, an' she's got manners; but slap-back ain't never had no raisin'. she hangs around, an' hangs around, an' is allers puttin' in her say jest as she was a few minutes ago with you and emilie in the road there. there's nothin' in this world tickles her like a chile actin' naughty, 'ceptin' it's two chillen scrappin'. now pore little dinah found she had to have all her wits about her to keep love near, an' make that ornery slap-back stay away. love was as willin', as willin' to stay as violets is to open in the springtime; but when dinah an' slap-back was both agin her, what could she do? an' dinah, she'd got so used to slap-back, an' that bodacious creetur had sech a way o' gittin' around the chile, sometimes, 'fore dinah knew it, she'd be listenin' to 'er ag'in; but dinah'd had one good scare an' she didn't mean to give in. jest now, too, her daddy fell sick. that good man, that lonely man, he'd had a mighty hard time of it, an' no chile to care or love 'im." "wait," interrupted emilie sternly. "if you are going to let dinah's father die, i'm going home." the apple woman showed the whites of her eyes in the astonished stare she gave her. "because"--emilie swallowed and then finished suddenly--"because it wouldn't be nice." the apple woman looked straight out over her stand. "well, he didn't, an' dinah made him mighty glad he got well, too; for she stopped buryin' her head in pictur' books, an' she did errands for gran'mam without whinin', an' she minded mose so her daddy had mo' peace when he come home tuckered out; an' when she'd got so she could smile at the boy in the next cabin, 'stead o' runnin' out her tongue at him, the fairy, love, could stay by without smoochin' her gown, an' slap-back had to melt away an' sail off to try her capers on some other chile." "but you needn't pretend you saw her with us," said franz uneasily. the apple woman nodded her red bandana wisely. "folks that lives outdoors the way i do, honey, sees mo' than you-all," she answered. emilie ran home ahead of her brother, and softly entered her father's room. he was at his desk, as was usual at this hour. his head leaned on his hand, and he was so deep in his work that he did not notice her quiet entrance. she curled up on the sofa in her usual attitude, but instead of reading she watched little peter on the floor building his block house. his chubby hands worked carefully until the crooked house grew tall, then in turning to find a last block he bumped his head on the corner of a chair. emilie watched him rub the hurt place in silence. then he got up on his fat legs and went to the desk, where he stood patiently, his round face very red and solemn, while he waited to gain his father's attention. at last the busy man became conscious of the child's presence, and, turning, looked down into the serious eyes. "i'm here wid a boomp," said peter. then after receiving the consolation of a hug and kiss he returned contentedly to his block house. emilie saw her father look after the child with a smile sad and tender. her heart beat faster as she lay in her corner. her father was lonely and hard worked, with no one to take pity on him. a veil seemed to drop from her eyes, even while they grew wet. "i don't believe i'm too old to change, even if i am going on nine," thought emilie. at that minute the block house fell in ruins, and peter, self-controlled though he was, looked toward the desk and began to whimper. "peter--baby," cried emilie softly, leaning forward and holding out the picture of a horse in her book. her father had turned with an involuntary sigh, and seeing peter trot toward the sofa and emilie receive him with open arms, went back to his papers with a relief that his little daughter saw. her breath came fast and she hugged the baby. something caught in her throat. "oh, papa, you don't know how many, _many_ times i'm going to do it," she said in the silence of her own full heart. and emilie kept that unspoken promise. chapter xi the golden dog "i think, after all, the ravine is the nicest place for stories," said jewel the next day. the sun had dried the soaked grass, and not only did the leaves look freshly polished from their bath, but the swollen brook seemed to be turning joyous little somersaults over its stones when mrs. evringham, jewel, and anna belle scrambled down to its bank. "i don't know that we ought to read a story every day," remarked mrs. evringham. "they won't last long at this rate." "when we finish we'll begin and read them all over again," returned jewel promptly. "oh, that's your plan, is it?" said mrs. evringham, laughing. jewel laughed too, for sheer happiness, though she saw nothing amusing about such an obviously good plan. "aren't we getting well acquainted, mother?" she asked, nestling close to her mother's side and forgetting anna belle, who at once lurched over, head downward, on the grass. "do you remember what a little time you used to have to hold me in your lap and hug me?" "yes, dearie. divine love is giving me so many blessings these days i only pray to bear them well," replied mrs. evringham. "why, i think it's just as _easy_ to bear blessings, mother," began jewel, and then she noticed her child's plight. "darling anna belle, what are you doing!" she exclaimed, picking up the doll and brushing her dress. "i shouldn't think you had any more backbone than an error-fairy! now don't look sorry, dearie, because to-day it's your turn to choose the story." anna belle, her eyes beaming from among her tumbled curls, at once turned happy and expectant, and when her hat had been straightened and her boa removed so that her necklace could gleam resplendently about her fair, round throat, she was seated against a tree-trunk and listened with all her ears to the titles mrs. evringham offered. after careful consideration, she made her choice, and mrs. evringham and jewel settling themselves comfortably, the former began to read aloud the tale of-- the golden dog if it had not been for the birds and brooks, the rabbits and squirrels, gabriel would have been a very lonely boy. his older brothers, william and henry, did not care for him, because he was so much younger than they, and, moreover, they said he was stupid. his father might take some interest in him when he grew bigger and stronger and could earn money; but money was the only thing gabriel's father cared for, and when the older brothers earned any they tried to keep it a secret from the father lest he should take it away from them. gabriel had a stepmother, but she was a sorry woman, too full of care to be companionable. so he sought his comrades among the wild things in the woods, to get away from the quarrels at home. he was a muscular, rosy-cheeked lad, and in the sports at school he could out-run and out-jump the other boys and was always good-natured with them; but even the children at the little country school did not like him very well, because the very things they enjoyed the most did not amuse him. he tried to explain to them that the birds were his friends, and therefore he could not rob their nests; but they laughed at him almost as much as when he tried to dissuade them from mocking old mother lemon, as they passed her cottage door on their way to and from school. she was an old cross-patch, of course, they told him, or else she would not live alone on the edge of a forest, with nobody but a cat and owls for company. "perhaps she would be glad to have some one better for company," gabriel replied. "go live with her, yourself, then, gabriel," said one of the boys tauntingly. "that's right! go leave your miser father, counting his gold all night while you are asleep, and too stingy to give you enough to eat, and go and be mother lemon's good little boy!" and then all the children laughed and hooted at gabriel, who walked up to the speaker and knocked him over on the grass with such apparent ease and such a calm face, that all the laughers grew silent from mere surprise. "you mustn't talk about my father to me," said gabriel, explaining. then he started for home, and the laughing began again, softly. "it was true," he thought, as he trudged along. things were getting worse at home, and sometimes he was hungry, for there was not too much on the table, and his big brothers fought for their share. as he neared mother lemon's cottage, with its thatched roof and tiny windows, he saw the old woman, in her short gown, tugging at the well-sweep. it seemed very hard for her to draw up the heavy bucket. instantly gabriel ran forward. "get out of here, now," cried the old woman, in a cracked voice, for she saw it was one of the school-children, and she was weary of their worrying tricks. "shan't i pull up the bucket for you?" asked gabriel. "ah, i know you. you want to splash me!" returned mother lemon, eying him warily; but the boy put his strong arm to the task, and the dripping bucket rose from the depths, while the little old woman withdrew to a safer distance. "show me where to put it and i will carry it into the house for you," said gabriel. "now bless your rosy cheeks, you're an honest lad," said mother lemon gratefully; but she took the precaution to walk behind him all the way, lest he should still be intending to play her some trick. when, however, he had entered the low door and filled the kettle and the pans, according to her directions, she smiled on him, and as she thanked him, she asked him his name. "gabriel," said the lad. "ah," she exclaimed, "you are the miser's boy." gabriel could not knock mother lemon down, so he only hung his head while his cheeks grew redder. "it isn't your fault, child, and by the time you are grown you will be rich. when that time comes, i pray you be kinder to me than your father is, for he oppresses the poor and makes me pay my last shilling for the rent of this hovel." "i would give the cottage to you if it were mine," returned gabriel, looking straight into her eyes with his honest gray ones; "but at present i am poorer than you." "in that case," said mother lemon, "i wish i had something worthy to reward you for your kindness to me. as i have not, here is a penny that you must keep to remember me by." and in spite of gabriel's protestations she took from her side-pocket a coin. "i cannot take it from you," protested the boy. "no one ever grew richer by refusing to give," returned mother lemon, and she tucked the penny inside gabriel's blouse and turned him out the door with her blessing; so that, being a peaceable boy of few words, he objected no longer, but moved along the road toward home, for it was nearly dinner time. he found his stepmother setting the table, and his father busily calculating with figures on a bit of paper. "get the water, gabriel, and be quick now," was his welcome from the sorry-faced woman. when he had done all she directed him, there was still a little time, for william and henry had not come in from the field. gabriel sat down near his father and, noting a rusty, dusty little book lying on the table, he picked it up. "what is this, father?" he asked, for there were few books in that house. the man looked up from his figuring and sneered. "it is called by some the book of life," he said. "as a matter of fact it would not bring two shillings." so saying he returned to his pleasant calculations and gabriel idly opened the book. his gaze widened, for the verse on which his eyes fell stood out from the others in tiny letters of flame. "_the love of money is the root of all evil_," he read. "father, father," he exclaimed, "what wonder is this? look!" the miser turned, impatient of a second interruption. "see the letters of fire!" "i see nothing. you grow stupider every day, gabriel." "but the letters burn, father," and then the boy read aloud the sentence which for him stood out so vividly on the page. they had a surprising effect upon his listener. the miser grew pale and then red with anger. he rose and, standing over the boy, frowned furiously. "i'll teach you to reprove your father," he cried. "get out of my house. no dinner for you to-day." the stepmother had heard what gabriel read, and well she knew the truth of those words. as the astonished boy gathered himself up and moved out the door, she went after him, calling in pretended sharpness; but when he came near, she whispered, "come to the back of the shed in five minutes," and when gabriel obeyed, later, he found there a thick piece of bread and a lump of cheese. these he took, hungrily, and ate them in the forest before returning to school. he had never felt so kindly toward school as this afternoon. were it not for what he learned there, he could not have read the words in the book of life; and although they had brought him into trouble, he would not have foregone the wonder of seeing the living, burning characters which his father could not perceive. he longed to open those dusty covers once again. on his way home that afternoon he met two boys teasing a small brown dog. its coat was stuck full of burrs and it tried in vain to escape from its tormentors. the boys stopped to let gabriel go by, for they had a wholesome respect for his strong right arm and they knew his love for animals. the trembling little dog looked at him in added fear. gabriel stood still. "will you give me that dog?" he asked. the boys backed away with their prize. "nothing for nothing," said the taller, who had the animal under his arm. "what'll you give us?" gabriel thought. never lived a boy with fewer possessions. ah! he suddenly remembered a whistle he had made yesterday. diving his hand into his pocket he brought it out and whistled a lively strain upon it. "this," he said, approaching. "i'll give you this." "that for one of us," replied the tall boy. "what for the other?" from the moment the dog heard gabriel's voice, its eyes had appealed to him. now it struggled to get free, and the big boy struck it. its cry sharpened gabriel's wits. "the other shall have a penny," he said, and drew mother lemon's coin out of his blouse. the big boy dropped the dog, and he and his companion struggled for the coin, each willing the other should have the whistle. gabriel lost no time in catching up the dog and making off with it. he did not stop running until he had reached a spot by the brookside, hidden amid sheltering trees. here he sat down and looked over the forlorn specimen in his lap. the dog was a rough, dingy object from its long ears to its tail. first of all, gabriel set to work to get out the burrs that stuck fast in the thick coat. this took a long time, but the little dog licked his hands gratefully now and then, showing that he understood, even if the operation was not always pleasant. "now, comrade," said gabriel, at last, "you'll have to stand a ducking." the dog's beautiful golden eyes looked at him trustfully, and gabriel, placing him in the brook, scrubbed him well, long ears and all, and then raced around with him in the warm air until he was dry. what a transformation was there! gabriel's eyes shone as he looked at his purchase. the dog's long hair, which had been a dingy brown, shone now like golden silk in the sunshine, and his eyes gleamed with the light of topazes as they fixed lovingly on gabriel's happy face; for gabriel _was_ happy, as every one is who sees love work what is called a miracle, but what is really not a miracle at all, but just one of the beautiful, happy changes for the better that follow on love, wherever she goes. the boy's lonely heart leaped at the idea that at last he had a companion. a despised little suffering dog had altered into a welcome playmate, too attractive, perhaps, to keep; for gabriel well knew that he would never be permitted to take the dog home; and any one finding him now in the woods could carry him into town and get a good price for him. "what shall i call you, little one?" asked the boy. "my word, but you are lively," for the dog was bounding about so that his ears flew and flapped around like yellow curls. "topaz, you shall be!" cried gabriel, suddenly realizing how gem-like were the creature's eyes; "and now listen to me!" to his amazement, as the boy said "listen," and raised his finger, topaz at once sat up on his hind legs with his dainty white forepaws hung in front of him. "whew!" and gabriel began whistling a little tune in his amazement, and the instant the dog heard the music he began to dance. what a sight was there! gabriel's eyes grew round as he saw topaz advance and retreat and twirl, occasionally nodding and tossing his head until his curls bobbed. he seemed to long, in his warm little dog's heart, to show gabriel that he had been worth saving. but the radiance died from the boy's face and he sank at last on the ground under a tree, looking very dejected. topaz bounded to his lap and gabriel pulled the long silky ears through his hands thoughtfully. "i thought i had found a companion," he said sadly. "bow-wow," responded topaz. "but you are a trick dog, worth nobody knows how much money, and i cannot keep you!" "bow-wow," said topaz. "to-morrow i must begin to try to find your master. meanwhile what am i to do with you?" the boy rose as he spoke and topaz showed plainly that there was no doubt in _his_ mind as to what should be done with him, for he meant to stick closely to gabriel's heel. the boy suddenly had an idea and began to trudge sturdily off in the direction of mother lemon's cottage, topaz following close. the memory of the latter's recent mishaps was too clear in his doggish mind to make him willing that a single bush should come between him and his protector. when they reached the little cottage, mother lemon sat spinning outside her low doorway. "welcome, my man," she said when she finally saw, by squinting into the sunlight, who it was that approached, "but drive off that dog." "look at him, mother lemon," said gabriel, rather sadly. "saw you ever one so handsome?" "looks are deceiving," returned the old woman, "and i have a cat." "i will see that he does not hurt your cat. i have to confess that i spent your penny for him, mother lemon." "then i have to confess that you are no worthy son of your father," returned the old woman, "for he would not have spent it for anything." "i know it was a keepsake," replied gabriel, "but the dog was in danger of his life and i had no other money to give for him." "you are a good-hearted lad," said mother lemon, going on with her spinning. "now take your dog away, for if my cat, tommy, should see him it might go hard with his golden locks." "alas, mother lemon, i have come to ask you to keep him for me." "la, la! i tell you i could not keep him any longer than until tommy laid eyes on him; neither have i any liking for dogs, myself, though that one, i must say, looks as if he had taken a bath in molten gold." "does he not!" returned gabriel. "when first i saw him some boys were misusing him and he seemed to be but a brown cur with a dingy, matted coat; and i could wish that he had turned out to be of no account, for the look in his eyes took hold upon my heart; but i rubbed him well in the brook, and now see the full, feathery tail and silky ears. he is a dog of high degree." "certain he is, lad," replied the old woman. "take him to the town and sell him to some lofty dame who has nothing better to do than brush his curls." "i would never sell him," said gabriel, regarding the dog wistfully. "he is lonely and so am i. we would stick together if we might." "what prevents? do you fear to take him home lest your father boil him down for his gold?" and mother lemon laughed as she spun. "no. my father, i know, would not give him one night's lodging, and in my perplexity i bethought me to ask you the favor," and gabriel's honest eyes looked so squarely at mother lemon that she stopped her wheel. "i cannot keep the dog," continued the boy, "and my heart is heavy." "your father is a curmudgeon," declared the old woman, for the more she looked at gabriel, the more she loved him. "what is it? would he grudge food for your pet?" "it is not that, but i cannot keep the dog in any case." "why not, pray?" for answer gabriel looked down into the topaz eyes whose regard had scarcely left his face during the interview. he held up his finger, and instantly the dog sat up. "'tis a trick dog!" exclaimed mother lemon. gabriel began to whistle, and the dance commenced. the old woman pressed her side as she laughed at the comical, pretty sight of the little dancer, the fluffy golden threads of whose silky coat gleamed in the sunlight. "your fortune is made," said mother lemon as gabriel ceased. "the dog will fetch a large price in the town, and because you are a good lad i will try to keep him for you until to-morrow, when you can go and sell him. if your father saw his tricks he would, himself, dispose of him and pocket the cash. i will shut him in an outhouse until you come again, and i only hope that he will not bark and vex tommy!" to the old woman's surprise gabriel looked sad. "but you see, mother lemon," he said soberly, "the dog already belongs to somebody." "la, la!" cried the old woman. "why, then, couldn't the somebody keep him?" "that i do not know; but to-morrow i set forth with him to find his owner." mother lemon nodded, and she saw the heaviness of the boy's heart because he must part with the golden dog. "'tis well that you leave him with me then, for your father would not permit that, any more than he would abate one farthing of my rent." gabriel went with her to the rickety shed where topaz was to spend the night, but the dog was loath to enter. he seemed to know that it meant parting with gabriel. the boy stooped down and talked to him, but topaz licked his face and sprang upon him beseechingly. when, finally, they closed the door with the dog within, the little fellow howled sorrowfully. "i'm sure he's hungry, mother lemon," said the boy, and a lump seemed to stick in his throat. "one bone perhaps you could give him?" "alas, i have none, gabriel. it is not often that tommy and i sit down to meat. he is now hunting mice in the fields or he would be lashing his tail at these strange sounds!" gabriel opened the door and, going back into the shed, spoke sternly to topaz, bidding him lie down. the dog obeyed, looking appealingly from the tops of his gem-like eyes, but when again the door was fastened, he kept an obedient silence. thanking mother lemon and promising to come early in the morning, gabriel sped home. his own hunger made his heart ache for the little dog, and when he entered the cottage he was glad to see that his stepmother was preparing the evening meal, while his father bent, as usual, over a shabby, ink-stained desk, absorbed in his endless calculations. gabriel's elder brothers were there, too, talking and laughing in an undertone. no one took any notice of gabriel, whose eye fell on the dusty, rusty book, and eagerly he picked it up, thinking to see if again he could find the wonder of the flaming words. as he opened it, several verses on the page before him gleamed into light. in mute wonder he read:-- "_and i will say to my soul, 'soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry._' "_but god said unto him, thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided?_' "_so is he that layeth up treasure for himself and is not rich toward god._" gabriel scarcely dared to lift his eyes toward his father, much less would he have offered to read to him again the flaming words. all through the supper time he thought of them and kept very still, for the others were unusually talkative, his father seeming in such excellent spirits that gabriel knew the figures on his desk had brought him satisfaction. "but if he did not oppress mother lemon," thought the boy, "he would be richer toward god." when the meal was over, gabriel took a piece of paper and went quietly to the back of the house where, in a box, was the refuse of the day's cooking. he found some bones and other scraps, and, running across the fields to mother lemon's, tiptoed to the low shed which held topaz, and, finding a wide crack, pushed the bones and scraps within. then he fled home and to bed, for he had always found that the earlier he closed his eyes, the shorter was the night. this time, however, when his sleepy lids opened, it was not to the light of day. a candle flame wavered above him and showed the face of his stepmother, bending down. "gabriel, gabriel," she whispered; then, as he would have replied, she hushed him with her finger on her lips. "i felt that i must warn you that your father is sorely vexed by the reproof you gave him to-day. he will send you out into the world, and i cannot prevent it; but in all that lies in my poor power, i will be your friend forever, gabriel, for you are a good boy. good-night, i must not stay longer," and a tear fell on the boy's cheek as she kissed him lightly, and then, with a breath, extinguished the candle and hastened noiselessly away. gabriel lay still, thinking busily for a while; but he was a fearless, innocent boy, and this threatened change in his fortunes could not keep him awake long. he soon fell asleep and slept soundly until the dawn. jumping out of bed then, he washed and dressed and went downstairs where his father awaited him. "gabriel," he said, "you do not grow brighter by remaining at home. i wish you to go out into the world and shift for yourself. when your fortune is made, you may return. as you go, however, i am willing to give you a small sum of money to use until you can obtain work." "i will obey you, father," returned the boy, "but as a last favor, i ask that, in place of the money, you give me the cottage where mother lemon lives." the man started and muttered: "he is even stupider than i believed him." "you may have it," he added aloud, after a wondering pause. "that--and this?" returned gabriel questioningly, taking up the book of life. his father scowled, for he remembered yesterday. "very well, if you like," he answered, with a bad grace. "then thank you, father, and i will trouble you no more." gabriel's stepmother could scarcely repress her tears as she gave the boy his breakfast and prepared him a package of bread and meat to carry on his journey. then she gave him a few pence, all she had, and he started off with her blessing. as gabriel went out into the fresh air, all nature was beautiful around him. there seemed no end to the blue sky, the wealth of sunshine, the generous foliage on the waving trees. the birds were singing joyously. all things breathed a blessing. gabriel wondered, as he walked along, about the god who, some one had once told him, made all things. it seemed to him that it could be only a loving being who created such beauty as surrounded him now. the little book was clasped in his hand. he suddenly remembered with relief that he was alone and could read it without fear. eagerly opening it, one verse, as before, flamed into brightness, and gabriel read:-- "_he that loveth not, knoweth not god; for god is love._" how wonderful! gabriel's heart swelled. god was love, then. he closed the book. for the first time god seemed real to him. the zephyrs that kissed his cheek and the sun that warmed him like a caress, seemed assuring him of the truth. the birds declared it in their songs. gabriel went down on his knees in the dewy grass and, dropping his bundle, clasped to his breast the book. "dear god," he said, "i am all alone and i have no one to love but topaz. he is a little dog and i must give him up because he doesn't belong to me. i know now that i shall love you and you will help me give topaz back, because my stepmother told me that you know everything, and she always told the truth." then gabriel arose and, taking the package of food, went on with a light heart until he came to mother lemon's cottage. even that poor shanty looked pleasant in the morning beams. the tall sunflowers near the door flaunted their colors in the light, and their cheerful faces seemed laughing at mother lemon as she came to the entrance and called anxiously to the approaching boy:-- "come quick, lad, hasten. my poor tommy is distracted, for your dog whines and threatens to dig his way out of his prison, and i will not answer for the consequences." indeed, the tortoise-shell cat was seated on the old woman's shoulder. the fur stood stiffly on his arched back, his tail was the size of two, and his eyes glowed. gabriel just glanced at the cat as it opened its mouth and hissed, then he gazed at mother lemon. "did you know there was a god?" he asked earnestly. "to be sure, lad," replied the old woman, surprised. "i've just learned about him in this wonderful book; the book of life is its name. saw you ever one like it?" the boy placed the rusty little volume in her hands. "ay, lad, many times." "does every one know it?" he asked incredulously. "most people do." "then why is not every one happy?" asked gabriel. "there is a god and he is love. do people believe it?" "ah," returned the old woman dryly, "that is a different thing." gabriel scarcely heard her. he opened his precious book. "there," he cried triumphantly, "see the living words:-- "'_nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of god which is in christ jesus our lord_.'" "h'm," said the old woman. "the print is too fine for my old eyes." "yes, perhaps 'tis for that that the letters flame like threads of fire. you see them?" "ahem!" returned mother lemon, for she saw no flaming letters, and she looked curiously at the boy's radiant face. moreover, tommy suddenly leaped from her shoulder to his. all signs of the cat's fear and anger had vanished, and as it rubbed its sleek fur against gabriel's cheek, it purred so loudly that mother lemon marveled. "had my father studied this book he might have been happy," continued the boy; "but he is offended with me and has sent me out into the world, and well i know that an unhappy heart drives him." "go back, boy, and make your peace with him," cried mother lemon excitedly, "or you will get nothing." "oh, i have received what i asked for. i asked to have this cottage, and he gave it to me, and i have come now to give it to you, mother lemon." "my lad!" exclaimed the amazed woman, and her eyes swam with sudden tears. "you will have no more rent to pay," said gabriel, stroking the cat. "and what is to become of you?" asked the woman, much moved. "i cannot go home," replied the boy quietly; "and in any case i have to give topaz, the dog, back to his owner. why do you weep, mother lemon? haven't i god to take care of me, and isn't he greater than all men?" "yes, lad. the good book says he is king of heaven and earth." "then if you believe it, why are you sad?" mother lemon dried her eyes, and at this moment they heard a great scratching on the door of the shed; for topaz had wakened from a nap and heard gabriel's voice. "ah, that i had never given you the penny!" wailed the old woman, "for then you would not have bought the yellow dog and gone away where i shall see you no more." gabriel's sober face smiled. "yes, you will see me again, mother lemon, when my fortune is made. you have god, too, you know." "ay, boy. i'm nearer him to-day than for many a long year. my blessing go with you wherever you are; and now let me have tommy, that he does not fly at your dancer, to whom i say good riddance. good-by, lad, good-by, and god bless you for your goodness and generosity to a lonely old creature!" so saying, mother lemon took the cat in her arms, and, going into the house, fastened the door and pulled down the windows, while gabriel went to the shed, and taking out the wooden staple released his prisoner. like a living nugget of gold the little dog leaped and capered about the boy, expressing his joy by the liveliest antics, barking meanwhile in a manner to set tommy's nerves on edge; but gabriel ran laughing before him into the forest, not stopping until they reached the brookside, where they both slaked their thirst. then he put the book of life carefully into his blouse, and opening the package gave topaz some of the bread and meat it contained. all the time there was a pain in gabriel's heart because topaz, by the morning light, was gayer, prettier, more loving than ever, and his clear eyes looked so trustfully into gabriel's that it was not easy to swallow the lump that rose in the boy's throat at the thought of parting with him. at last the package of food was again tied, and gabriel was ready to start. topaz stood expectantly before him, his eyes gleaming softly, the color of golden sand as it lies beneath sunlit water. the boy sat a moment watching the alert face which said as plainly as words: "whatever you are going to do, i am eager to do it, too." gabriel thoughtfully drew the silky ears through his hands. "god made you, too, topaz, and he knows i love you. if it please him, we shall not find your master this first day." then he jumped up and searched for a good stick. he tried the temper of a couple by whipping the air, and when he found one stiff enough, ran it through the string about the bundle and looked around for topaz. to his astonishment the dog had disappeared. he whistled, but there was no sign. gabriel's face grew blank, then flushed as the reason of the dog's flight flashed upon him. it forced tears into his eyes to think that any one could have struck the pretty creature, and that topaz could have suffered enough to distrust even him. he threw down stick and bundle and walked around anxiously, whistling from time to time. at last his quick eyes caught the gleam of golden color behind a bush. even topaz's fright could not take him far while a doubt remained; but he was crouching to the ground, and his eyes were appealing. gabriel threw himself down beside the little fellow, and for a minute his wet eyes were pressed to the silky fur, while he stroked his playmate. topaz licked his face, and the dog's fear fled forever. he followed gabriel back to the place where the bundle was dropped, and the boy patted him while he took up the stick and set it across his shoulder. topaz's ears flapped with joy as they started on their tramp. gabriel put away all thought of the future and frolicked with his playmate as they went along, throwing a stick which topaz would bring, and beg with short, sharp barks that the boy would throw once more, when he would race after it like a streak of sunshine, his golden curls flying. from time to time gabriel ran races with him, and no boy at school could beat gabriel at running, so topaz had a lively morning. by the time the sun was high in the heavens they were both hungry and glad to rest. they found the shade of a large tree, and there gabriel opened his package again, and when he tied it up it made a very small bundle on the end of the stick he carried over his shoulder. there was not so much running this afternoon. gabriel and topaz had come a long way, and toward evening they began to see the roofs of the town ahead of them. the dog no longer raced to right and left after butterfly and bird, but trotted sedately at the boy's heel, and after a time gabriel picked him up and carried him, for the thought came that perhaps topaz could earn them a place to sleep, and gabriel wished to rest the little legs that could be so nimble. it was nearly dusk when they reached a cultivated field and then a farmhouse. some children were playing in the yard, and when they saw a dusty boy turn in at the gate, they ran to the house crying that a beggar was coming. their mother came out from the door, and the expression of her face told plainly that she meant to drive the dusty couple away. gabriel set down the dog and took off his hat, and his clear eyes looked out of his grimy face. "i am not a beggar," he said simply. "i go to the town to return this dog to its master, but night is coming on, and we should like to sleep on the hay." "how do i know you are not a thief?" returned the woman. "it is not a very likely story that you are tramping way to town to give back a yellow dog." "he is a dog of high degree," declared gabriel, "and if you will let us sleep in your barn he will dance for you." upon this the children begged in chorus to see the dog dance, and the mother consented; so topaz, when he was bade, sat up, and then, as gabriel whistled, the dainty, dusty little white feet began to pirouette, and the children clapped their hands for joy and would have kept the dancer at his work until dark, but that gabriel would not have it so. "we have come far," he said. "let us rest now, and in the morning topaz will dance for you again." so all consented and escorted the strangers to the barn, where there was a clean, sweet hay-loft. the little dog remembered the night before, and whined under his breath and wagged his tail as he looked at gabriel, as if begging the boy not to leave him. gabriel understood, and patted the silky coat. it took him some minutes to get rid of the children, who wished to continue to caress and play with topaz; but at last they were gone and the two weary wanderers could lie down on the sweet hay. as topaz nestled into his arms gabriel felt very thankful to god for their long happy day. if the master should come to-morrow--well, the only thing to do was to give up his playfellow, and he should still be grateful for the day and night they had spent together. bright sunlight was streaming through the chinks of the rafters when the travelers awoke. sounds of men and horses leaving the barn died away, and then gabriel arose and shook himself. topaz jumped about in delight that another day had commenced. the boy looked at him wistfully. was this to be their last morning together? he felt the little book in his blouse and taking it out, opened it. it was dark in the barn, but, as ever, this wonderful book had a light of its own, and in tiny letters of flame there appeared this verse:-- "_for god hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power and of love and of a sound mind._" much comforted, gabriel put the dear book back in its hiding-place, and taking his small bundle, left the barn, the dog bounding after him. no sooner had the children of the house seen them coming than they ran forth to meet them, singing and whistling and crying upon topaz to dance, but the dog kept his golden eyes upon his master and noticed no one beside. the mother came to the door with a much pleasanter face than she had worn yesterday. "you may go to the pump yonder and wash yourself," she said; and gabriel obeyed gladly, wiping his face upon the grass that grew long and rank about the well. the clean face was such a good one that when the woman saw it she hushed the children. "be still until they have had some breakfast," she said, "then the dog will dance again." so gabriel and topaz had a comfortable meal which they enjoyed, and afterward the boy whistled and the dog danced with a good heart, and the children danced too, for very pleasure. they were all so happy that gabriel for the moment forgot his errand. "if you will sell your dog i will buy him," said the woman, at last, for the children had given her no peace when they lay down nor when they rose up, until she had promised to make this offer. gabriel looked at her frankly, and a shadow fell over his bright face. "alas, madam, he is not mine to sell." "where dwells his master, then?" "that i know not, for he had strayed and i found him and must restore him if i can." "'tis a fool's errand," said the woman, who liked the dog herself, and, moreover, saw that there was money in his nimble feet. "i will give you as many coppers as you can carry in your cap if you will leave him here and go your way and say nothing about it to any one." gabriel shook his head. "alas, madam, he is not mine," was all the woman could induce him to say, and she thought his sadness was at the thought of the cap full of pence which she believed he dared not accept for fear of getting into trouble. little she knew that if only the golden dog were gabriel's very own, no money could buy from the boy the one heart on earth that beat warmly for him, and the graceful, gay coat of flossy silk which he loved to caress; so the farmer's wife and children were obliged to let the couple go. gabriel had seen, the night before, a creek that wandered through the meadow, and before entering the town he ran to it and, pulling off his clothes, jumped in and took a good swim. barking with delight, topaz joined in this new frolic, splashing and swimming about like the jolly little water dog that he was. when, at last, they came out and were dried, and gabriel was dressed, they were a fresh looking pair that started out for the town. now gabriel was not so stupid as his brothers believed, and, as he said over to himself the verse he had read that morning in the barn, and looked at topaz, so winsomely shining after his bath, he began to see how unwise it would be to tell every one he met that he was searching for topaz's owner. there were people in the world, he knew, who would not scruple to pretend that such a pretty creature was their own, even if they had never seen him before; so gabriel determined to be very careful and to know that god would give him power and a sound mind, if he would not be afraid, as the book of life had said. now the two entered the town; but from the moment their feet struck the pavements, topaz's manner changed. he kept so close to gabriel that the boy often came near to stepping on him. "what ails you, little one?" asked gabriel, perplexed by his companion's strange actions. "don't you know that you are going home?" but topaz did not bark a reply. his feathery tail hung down. he looked at gabriel only from the tops of his eyes as he clung close to his heels, and he even seemed to the boy to tremble when they crossed the busy streets. "you mustn't be afraid, topaz," said gabriel stoutly. "no one likes a coward." but topaz only clung the closer, sometimes looking from left to right, fearfully. at last his actions were so strange that gabriel took him up under his arm. "perhaps if we meet his owner he can see him the better so," thought the boy, and he looked questioningly into the faces of men, women, and children as they passed him by. no one did more than stare at him after observing the beautiful head that looked out from under his arm. one good-natured man smiled in passing and said to gabriel: "going to the palace, i suppose." this remark astonished the boy very much, and he looked around after the man. now there had been some one following gabriel for the last five minutes, and when he looked around, this person, who was an organ-grinder, quickly turned his back and began grinding out a tune. at the first sound of it topaz started and trembled violently and snuggled so close to gabriel that the latter, who did not connect his action with the music, was dismayed. "topaz, what _is_ the matter?" he asked, and hurried along, thinking to find some park where he could sit down and try to discover what ailed his little playfellow. as he began to hurry, the organ-grinder's black eyes snapped, and he stopped playing and beckoned to a big officer of the law who stood near. "my dog has been stolen," he exclaimed. "come with me, after the thief. i will pay you." the big man obeyed and walked along, grumbling: "is the city full of stolen dogs, i wonder?" he muttered. "it is my dancing dog!" explained the organ-grinder. "the boy yonder is carrying him in his arms and running away. he will deny it, but i will pay you a silver coin. it is a week since i lost him." "stop, thief," roared the officer, beginning to run. the organ-grinder ran as well as he could with his heavy burden, and there began to be an excitement on the street, so that gabriel, hugging his dog, stopped to see what was the matter. what was his surprise to be confronted by the big officer and the black-eyed italian. "drop that dog!" ordered the officer gruffly. "not till i get a string around his neck," objected the organ-grinder, and produced a cord which he knotted about topaz's fluffy throat. then he pulled the dog away roughly. "is he yours?" cried gabriel, eyes and mouth open in astonishment. "no, it cannot be. he is afraid of you. oh, see!" "ho, this boy has stolen my whole living," said the organ-grinder, "and now he tries to claim my property." "do not believe him!" cried gabriel, appealing to the big officer. "it cannot be his. the dog loves me. let me show you." "stand off, stand off," ordered the organ-grinder, for a crowd had gathered. "would the dog dance for me if he were not mine? see!" he drew from his coat a little whip and struck the organ with a snap, at which topaz jumped. then he dropped the dog and began to grind, and the crowd saw the trembling animal raise itself to its hind legs and begin to dance. oh, the mincing little uncertain steps! no tossing of the yellow curls was here. gabriel's heart bounded hotly. did these people think they were seeing topaz dance? "oh, believe me, let me show you!" he cried, trying to come near; but the big officer pushed him away roughly. "can you pay your debts?" he said, coming close to the organ-grinder. the man stopped turning his crank and taking a silver coin handed it to the officer, but slyly, so that no one saw. then the big man turned to gabriel. "now be off from here!" he said sternly. "if you hang about a minute longer, into the lock-up you go!" gabriel, white and sorry, clasped his hands helplessly, and watched while the organ-grinder caught topaz up under his arm and made off with him, down a side street. the boy felt that he must pursue them. he turned his tearful gaze on the big officer. "i found that dog, sir," he said. "the more fool you, then, not to take it to the palace," returned the other. "it is gaudy enough to have perhaps pleased the princess, and the organ-grinder would have had to get another slave." so saying, the officer laughed and carelessly turned away. gabriel stood still, choking. it must be that the princess wished to buy a pet. ah, if he might even have parted with his little friend to her, how far better it would have been than this strange, wrong thing that had happened with such suddenness that the boy could scarcely get his breath for the way his heart beat. he pressed his hand to his streaming eyes, then, seeing that people were staring at him curiously, he stole away, walking blindly and stumbling over the rough pavement. at last he came to a place in a quiet street where a seat was built into a wall, and there he sat down and tried to think. in his despair the thought of the great king of heaven and earth came to him. "dear god," he murmured breathlessly, "what now? what did i wrong, that you did not take care of topaz and me?" the breeze in the treetops was his only answer; so after listening for a minute to the soothing sound, he took the book of life from his blouse and opened it. oh, wonderful were the words he saw. how they glowed and seemed to live upon the gray page. "_be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them; for the lord thy god, he it is that doth go with thee: he will not fail thee nor forsake thee_." gabriel caught his trembling lip between his teeth. he knew no one in this crowded city. he had no home, no friends, no money except the few coppers in his pocket. how, then, was help to come? "dear god," he whispered, "i have no one now in all the world but you. topaz is gone and i am grieved sore, for he is wretched. let me save him. i am not afraid, dear god, not afraid of anything. i trust you." comforted by a little blind hope that crept into his heart, the boy looked up; and the first thing that his swollen eyes rested upon was a large poster affixed to the opposite wall, with letters a foot high. "reward!" it said. "h.r.h. the princess has lost her golden dog. a full reward for his return to the palace!" gabriel's heart gave a great bound. what golden dog was there anywhere but topaz? the color that had fled from his cheeks came back. but would an organ-grinder dare claim for his own a dog that belonged to a princess of the country? and yet--and yet--the little dog's joy and light-heartedness with himself showed that he had been well treated by whomever taught him his pretty tricks. the organ-grinder did not treat him well, and who that really knew topaz would dream of taking a whip to force him to his work! gabriel, young as he was, saw that there was some mystery here, and beside, there had been the glowing words in the book of life, telling him again not to be afraid, and promising him that the greatest of all kings would not fail him or forsake him. he started up from the seat, but forced himself back and opened the small bundle of dry bread and meat; for there was no knowing when he should eat again. he took all that remained, and when he had swallowed the last crumbs, arose with a determined heart and hurried up the street. he asked the first man he met if he could direct him to the palace. the man shrugged his shoulders. "where is your yellow dog?" he asked. "i have none," returned gabriel, "but i have business at the palace." the man laughed down at the shabby figure of the country lad. "and don't know where it is? well, follow your nose. you are on the right road." gabriel sped along and he was indeed much nearer than he had supposed; for very soon he met a sorry-faced man with a yellow dog in his arm; then another; then another; and in fact he could trace his way to the palace by the procession of men, women, and children, all returning, and each one carrying a yellow dog and chattering or grumbling according to the height from which his hopes had been dashed. when gabriel reached the palace gates he saw that there were plenty more applicants waiting inside the grounds. the boy had never realized how many varying sizes and shades of yellow dogs there were in the world. the guard had received orders to deny entrance to no person who presented a gold-colored dog for examination, but gabriel was empty-handed and the guard frowned upon him. "i wish to see the princess," said the boy. "i dare say," replied the guard. "be off." "but i wish to tell her about a golden dog." "can't you see that we are half buried in golden dogs?" returned the guard crossly. "no, sir. i have seen none but yellow dogs since i drew near this place. i have a tale to tell the princess." the guard could not forbear laughing at this simplicity. "do you suppose ragamuffins like you approach her highness?" he returned. "a dog's tail is the only sort she is interested in to-day. see the chamberlain yonder. he is red with fatigue. he is choosing such of the lot as are worthy to be looked at by the princess, and should he see you demanding audience and with no dog to show, it will go hard with you. be off!" and the guard's gesture was one to be obeyed. gabriel withdrew quietly; but he was not daunted. the princess would, perhaps, grow weary and drive out. at any rate there was nothing to do except watch for her. he looked at the splendid palace and gardens and wondered if topaz had ever raced about there. then he wondered what the dog was doing now; but this thought must be put away, because it made gabriel's eyes misty, and he must watch, watch. at last his patient vigil was rewarded. a splendid coach drawn by milk-white horses appeared in the palace grounds. gabriel's heart beat fast. he knew he must act quickly and before any one could catch him; so he made his way cautiously to the shelter of a large, flowering shrub by the roadside. the coach approached and the iron gates were flung wide. gabriel plainly saw a young girl with troubled eyes sitting alone within, and on the seat opposite an older woman with her back to the horses. suddenly, while the carriage still moved slowly outside the gates that clanged behind it, gabriel started from his hiding-place and swiftly leaped to the step of the coach and looked straight into the young girl's eyes. "princess," he exclaimed breathlessly, "i know of a golden dog, and they will not let me"--but by this time the lady-in-waiting was screaming, and the guard, who recognized gabriel, rushed forth from the gate and, seizing him roughly, jerked the boy from the step. "unhand him instantly!" exclaimed the princess, her eyes flashing, for the look gabriel had given her had reached her heart. "stop the horses!" instantly the coach came to a standstill. "_i will not fail thee, nor forsake thee_," sounded in gabriel's ears amid the roaring in his head, as he found himself free. he did not wait for further invitation, but jumped back to the coach. "stop screaming, lady gertrude!" exclaimed the princess. "but the beggar's hands are on the satin, your highness!" exclaimed the lady-in-waiting, who had had a hard week and wished there was not a yellow dog in the world. "princess, hear me and you will be glad," declared gabriel. "i beg for nothing but to be heard. i believe i know where your dog is and that he suffers." no one could have seen and heard gabriel as he said this, without believing him. tears of excitement sprang to his gray eyes and a pang went through the heart of the princess. how many times she had wondered if her lost pet had found such love as she gave him! she at once ordered the door of the coach to be opened and that gabriel should enter. "your highness!" exclaimed lady gertrude, nearly fainting. "you may leave us if you please," said the princess, with a little smile; but lady gertrude held her smelling-salts to her nose and remained in the coach, which the princess ordered to be driven through a secluded wood-road. gabriel, sitting beside her on the fine satin cushion, told his story, from the moment when he found the dingy, brown dog in the hands of the teasing boys, to the moment when the organ-grinder bore him away. the hands of the princess were clasped tightly as she listened. "you called him topaz," she said, when the boy had finished. "i called him goldilocks. ah, if it should be the same! if it should!" "surely there are not two dogs in the world so beautiful," said gabriel. "that is what i say to myself," responded the princess. "had he been less wonderful, your highness, he would be safe now, for i should have kept him. he loved me," said gabriel simply. "you are an honest boy," replied the princess gratefully, "and i will make you glad of it whether topaz turns out to be goldilocks or not. but you say he danced with so much grace?" "yes, your highness, and tossed his head for glee till his curls waved merrily." "'tis the same!" cried the princess, in a transport. "his eyes _are_ like topazes. your name is the best. he shall have it. ah, he has slept in a shed and eaten cold scraps! my goldilocks!" "yes, your highness, and would be glad to do so still; for he fears his dark-browed master, and dances with such trembling you would not know him again." "ah, cruel boy, cease! take me to him at once. show my men the spot where you left him." "your highness must use great care, for if once the organ-grinder suspects that you are searching for him, no one will ever again see the golden dog; for the man will fear to be found with him." "you are right. i can send out men with orders to examine every hand-organ in the city." "if they were quiet enough it might be done, but i have a better plan." "you may speak," returned the princess. "when we are alone, your highness," said gabriel; and the lady-in-waiting was so amazed at such effrontery that she forgot to use her salts. "to the palace," ordered the princess. lady gertrude gave the order. "does your highness intend to take this--this person to the palace?" she inquired. "i do. he loves my dog, and therefore i would give more for his advice at this time than for that of the lord high chamberlain." "then i have nothing more to say," returned the lady gertrude, leaning back among the cushions; and this was cheering news to her companions. what was the astonishment of the guard to see the coach return, still carrying the rustic lad, who sat so composedly beside the princess, and dismounted with her at the palace steps. once within, nothing was too fine for gabriel. a gentleman-in-waiting was set to serve him in an apartment, which made the boy pinch himself to make sure he was not dreaming. when he had taken a perfumed bath and obediently put on the fine clothing that was provided for him, he was summoned to a splendid room where the princess awaited him, surrounded by her ladies. she was scarcely more than a child, herself, and the boy wondered how she liked to have so many critical personages about, to watch her every action. as he entered the room, every eye was turned upon him, and the lady gertrude, especially, put up her glass in wonder that this handsome lad with the serious, fearless eyes, who seemed so at ease in the silks and satins he now wore, could be the peasant who had jumped on the step of the coach. the princess looked upon him with favor and smiled. "we are ready now," she said, "to hear what plan you propose for the rescue of the golden dog." "then will your highness kindly ask these ladies to leave us?" returned gabriel. "ah, to be sure. i forgot your wish that the communication should be private." then the princess gave orders that every one should leave the room, and her companions obeyed reluctantly, the lady gertrude above all. she remained close to the outside of the closed door, ready to fly within at the slightest cry from her mistress; for the lady gertrude could not quite believe that a boy who had ever worn a calico shirt was a safe person to leave alone with royalty. for a few minutes there was only a low buzz of voices behind the closed door, then a merry laugh from the princess assailed lady gertrude's ears. it was the first time she had laughed since the disappearance of the golden dog. before gabriel slipped between the sheets that night in his luxurious chamber, he took the little brown book which had been folded away with his shabby clothing. his heart glowed with gratitude to god for the help he had received that day, and when he opened the page it was as if a loving voice spoke:-- "_thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee; because he trusteth in thee_." "dear god, i trust in thee!" he murmured; then he climbed into the soft bed and slept dreamlessly. the following morning, the king and queen having given consent to their daughter's request, two children drove out of the palace grounds in a plain black carriage. the coachman drove to a confectioner's near the centre of the town, where the horses stopped. a tall man in dark clothes, who was also in the carriage, stepped down first and handed out the girl, and afterward the boy jumped down. then the carriage rolled away. "remember," said the girl, turning to the tall man, "you are not to remain too near us." he bowed submissively, and in a minute more the girl and boy, plainly dressed, middle-class people, were looking in at the confectioner's window at a pink and white frosted castle that reared itself above a cake surrounded with bon-bons to make one's mouth water. "saw you ever anything so grand, your highness?" exclaimed gabriel, in awe. the princess laughed. her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled. this was the first time her little feet had ever touched a city street, and she loved the adventure. "find me topaz, and all the contents of this window shall be yours," she returned. "i shall not care to have anything until we do find him, your highness," replied gabriel simply. "you must not call me that. some one might hear you." "i know it. there is danger of it," declared gabriel; "but the gentleman who is to follow us said i should lose my head if i treated you familiarly." the princess laughed again. she was in a new world, like a bird whose cage door had been opened. "we need your head until we find topaz," she replied, "for you have clever ideas. nevertheless, my name is louise, and you may remember it if necessity arises. now where shall we go first?" "straight down this street," said the boy, leading the way. "i am expecting god will show us where to go," he added. his companion looked at him in surprise, and gabriel observed it. "don't you know about god?" he asked. "of course. who does not?" she returned briefly. "i did not," answered gabriel, "until i found the book of life. it speaks to me in words of flame. have you such a book?" "no. i will buy it from you," said the princess. "no one can do that," declared the boy, "for it is more precious than all beside. this morning i looked into it for guidance through the day, and the glowing words were sweet:-- "'_for he shall give his angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways_.'" gabriel smiled at the princess with such gladness that she gazed at him curiously. "you cannot refuse to sell me your book," she said at last, "for i can have your head taken off if i wish. i am the king's daughter." "god is greater than all kings," returned gabriel, "and he would not allow it. he helped me to get your attention yesterday, and to-day he is sending his angels with us to find topaz. the book of life is for every one, i believe. i am sure you can have one, too." here both the boy and girl started, for there came a metallic sound of music on the air. "be cautious, be very cautious," warned gabriel, and as the princess started to run, he caught her by the arm, a proceeding which horrified the tall man in dark clothes who was at some distance back, but had never taken his eyes from them. "you must not be too interested," added the boy, as excited as she. "a hand-organ is an every-day affair. we even hear them in the country at times." but they both followed the sound, veiling their eagerness as best they might. when they came in sight of the organ-grinder they both sighed, for he had no assistance from a little dog nor from any one else. the princess was for turning away impatiently. "wait," said gabriel, "we are interested in organ music." so he persuaded her to stand a minute, while her bright eyes roved in all directions; and the organ man saw a hope of coppers in the pair, for they were decently dressed and lingered in apparent pleasure. he kept his eyes upon them and at last held out his cap. the princess had plenty of pence in the bag at her side, placed there by the thoughtful gabriel in place of the handful of silver with which she had intended to reward street musicians. "you are one of the common people, your highness; or else you need have no hope of topaz," he had reminded her; so now the impatient girl tossed some coppers into the outstretched cap and hurried along as if they were wasting time. the next organ they found had, sitting upon it, a monkey dressed in red cap and jacket, and gabriel insisted on waiting to watch him, although the sight of his antics only swelled the princess's heart as she thought that somewhere topaz was being forced to such indignity. the little monkey did not seem to object, and gladly ran to his master with the coppers that gabriel dropped in his cap. the next organ-grinder they found had with him a little italian girl with a red silk handkerchief knotted about her head. she sang and played on a tambourine, and gabriel persuaded his companion to watch and listen for a few minutes. if only they could find topaz first, her royal highness, princess of the country, would ask nothing better than to roam freely about the streets, listening and gazing like any other young girl out for a holiday; but topaz was on her mind, and she was not accustomed to being forced to wait. "listen to me," murmured gabriel, as they moved on after making the little italian show her white teeth in pleasure at their gift. "do not frown. you must look pleased. it is the only way." so the princess put a restraint upon herself. with the next organ they met, she saw a yellow dog who wore a cap fastened under his chin, and sat up holding a cup in his teeth for pennies, and she set her lips in the effort to control herself. the dog had long ears and white paws. gabriel's own heart beat in his throat, but he grasped the woolen stuff of his companion's gown as the man began to play. it was not the man of yesterday, but that mattered not to gabriel. they waited till the tune was finished, the gaze of the princess devouring the dog meanwhile. then the little creature trotted up to them very prettily on his hind legs, offering his cup, and the children dropped into it coppers while they looked into the yellow eyes. "hi--oh--hi--oh"--and another tune broke into the one which their organ-grinder commenced. following the sound of the call, gabriel and the princess looked a little way off, across the street, and beheld a street musician grinding away and beckoning to them with his head, while his teeth gleamed in an attractive smile. "pay no attention to him," said the man with the yellow dog, grinding lustily, and making a frightful discord. "'tis pedro and his little brown beast. he seeks to draw my listeners away as if i had not the most intelligent dog in the universe, and, moreover, of the color which the princess has made fashionable. i doubt not if her highness saw my dog she would give me for him as many gold eagles as i have fingers on my hand; but he is not for the princess, who has joys enough without depriving the children on the street of their pleasures." the girl in the brown woolen gown was clasping her hands painfully together, and her heart was beating with hope; but gabriel shook his head at her, and she remained quiet. he had already seen that the dog was not topaz, although astonishingly like him in size and shape. pedro, across the street, kept drawing nearer, as he played and smiled and beckoned with his head. there trotted after him an unpromising little brown dog with limp tail and ears. the man, in his good-nature and success, looked very different from the organ-grinder of yesterday; and as he laughed aloud, the master of the yellow dog frowned and shouted something in italian back at him, before shouldering his organ and tramping away, his dog very glad to go on all fours again. pedro pulled off his hat, smiling at the lingering girl and boy. "he says you have given him all your coppers," he said. "i don't believe it; but in any case i will give you a tune." "you are letting him go," murmured the princess breathlessly, starting to run after the yellow dog. "saw you not 'twas not topaz?" asked gabriel, under cover of the lively tune, and again seizing a fold of the woolen gown, he held the girl in her place. "wait," he said aloud, with a show of interest, "i wish to hear the music." "let me go, my heart is sick," returned the princess, turning her head away. gabriel pretended to frown at her and pulled some pence from his pocket, at sight of which the organ-grinder's eyes brightened and he played harder than ever. "can you be strong, princess?" asked the boy distinctly. "don't look now, but topaz has come to us." the princess started, and instead of obeying, looked closely first at the dejected little brown dog and then up and down the street and behind her, but in vain. "if those pence are for me, my boy," said the organ-grinder, stopping his music, "you and your sister shall see my dog dance. he is the wonder of the world, although he is not much to look at. we cannot all be royal and own golden dogs." gabriel threw him the pennies, for he did not yet wish to come too near topaz, lest the little dog might see deeper than the respectable raiment in which his own brother would not have known him. the boy clapped his hands above his head; the organ-grinder thought it was for joy, but it was a signal agreed upon. a shrill whistle sounded on the air. the organ-grinder knew the sound and knew that it was intended to summon the officers of the law. he wondered what poor wretch was getting into trouble; but it was none of his business. he took a whip from within his coat, and with it struck the organ a violent snap. at the sound the little dog jumped. the princess noticed that gabriel's eyes were fixed on him, and wondered what he could be thinking of to confound this sorry-looking, dull-colored animal with her gay companion of the palace garden. the music began, the dog reared himself patiently upon his hind feet and stepped about so slowly that the organ-man growled at him and struck the organ again. then the dancer moved faster; but the ears did not fly and every motion was a jerk. nevertheless, the princess's heart had now begun to suffocate her. she recalled gabriel's story of washing off the brown color from the dingy fur in the brook, and her eyes swam with tears at the mere possibility that this might be the object of her search. she had just sense enough to keep still and leave everything to gabriel. here, too, approached the tall gentleman, followed by an officer of the law. gabriel saw at a glance that it was the same big fellow who had driven him away yesterday. the tall, dignified gentleman-in-waiting looked in disgust at the stiff little brown dancer. "this foolish peasant is but getting us into trouble," he thought, "but he will suffer for it." indeed, gabriel knew the law of the land; knew that if he accused the organ-grinder wrongfully he would be walked off to prison in his place; but gabriel had seen the brown dog's eyes. there were no doubts in his heart, which bounded so that it seemed as if it could hardly stay within his bosom. "come away, your highness," murmured the gentleman-in-waiting, in the princess's ear. "this is a farce." "stand back and wait," she replied sternly, and he obeyed. meanwhile the organ-grinder had observed the newcomers and was showing every tooth in his head at the prospect of a rich harvest of coppers. in a minute he ceased playing. the brown dog dropped to all fours, and his hopeless air sent a pang through the princess. the organ-grinder held out his cap. "i don't think much of your dog's dancing," said gabriel, looking him in the eye. "i could make him do better, myself." "it doesn't do to use the whip too much," replied the organ-grinder, but gabriel had already gone on his knees beside the dog and whispered to him. instantly the little creature went into a transport of delight. bounding to the boy's breast, it clung there so closely that gabriel gave up the experiment that he had intended of trying to show the organ-man how his slave could dance. rising, gabriel held the panting topaz in his arms. "i declare," he said aloud, "i declare this to be the princess's lost dog." the organ-grinder scowled and grew pale. "'tis a lie," he cried, "hers was a golden dog." "this is a golden dog," said gabriel. even the gentleman-in-waiting was impressed by the certainty of the boy's voice. the organ-grinder turned to the officer and shook his fist. "'tis that boy again!" he cried. "if this is the princess's dog, that boy stole him. as for me, i found the poor creature, friendless and lost, and i took pity on him." "why, then, did you stain his coat?" asked gabriel. the organ-grinder looked wildly up and down the street. for some reason he felt that a silver coin would not affect the officer of the law to-day. the gentleman-in-waiting pointed sternly at the culprit. "take him away," he said to the officer. "should this prove to be indeed the princess's dog, he has committed treason." and now the black carriage and spirited horses drove up. the three entered it with the dog and were whirled away. by noon it was rumored in that street that her royal highness, the princess of the land, had walked through it, dressed like one of the common people. within the carriage the princess was weeping tears of joy above her pet. "if it is you, goldilocks, if it is you!" she kept repeating; but the dog clung to the one who had recognized his topaz eyes in spite of everything. "he is not fit, yet, for your highness to touch," said gabriel, "but if you will give me one hour, i will show him to you unchanged." that afternoon there was rejoicing at the palace. all had felt the influence of the princess's grief, for she was the idol of the king and queen; and now, as topaz capered again, a living sunbeam, through corridor and garden, all had a word of praise for the peasant boy who had restored him to his home. at evening the princess received a message from gabriel and ordered that he be sent to her. in a minute he entered, dressed in the shabby garments in which he had leaped upon the coach step. in his hand he held a little rusty book, and his clear eyes looked steadily at the princess, with the honest light which had first made her listen to him. "i come to say farewell, your highness," he said. a line showed in her forehead. "what reward have they given you?" "none, your highness." "what have you in your hand?" "the book of life." "come nearer and let me see it." the ladies-in-waiting were, as usual, grouped near their mistress, and they stared curiously at the peasant boy. only topaz, who at his entrance had bounded from a satin cushion as golden as his flossy coat, leaped upon him with every sign of affection. gabriel approached and handed the book to the princess. she opened it and ran her eye over the gray pages. "i see no fiery letters," she said, and handed it back. the boy opened it. as usual a flaming verse arrested his eye. he pointed with his finger at the words and read aloud:-- "'_he shall call upon me and i will answer him: i will be with him in trouble: i will deliver him and honor him_.'" "'tis a fair promise," said the princess, "but i see no flaming letters." "i do, your highness," returned gabriel simply, and looking into his eyes she knew that he spoke the truth. she gazed at him curiously. "where go you now, and what do you do?" she asked, after a pause. "that i know not," replied gabriel, "but god will show me." "by means of that book?" "yes, your highness," and gabriel bowed his head and moved toward the door. topaz followed close at his heel. if gabriel were going for a walk, why, so much the better. he was going, too. the boy smiled rather sadly, for he knew the golden dog loved him, and there was no one else anywhere who cared whether he went or came. he stooped and, picking up the little creature, carried him to the princess. "you will have to hold him from following me, your highness." the girl took the dog, but he struggled and broke from her grasp, to leap once again upon his departing friend. "wait," said the princess, and rose. gabriel stood, all attention, and gazed at her, where she stood, smiling kindly upon him. "i promised a full reward to whomever returned me my dog. you have not yet received even the window-full of pink and white sweetmeats which i promised you this morning." gabriel smiled, too. "where is your home, gabriel, and why are you not returning there?" "i have no home. it is a long story, your highness, and would not interest you." "ah, but it does interest me," and the princess smiled more brightly than ever; "because if you have no home you can remain in our service." a light flashed into gabriel's sober face. "what happiness!" he exclaimed. no answer could have pleased the princess better than the pleasure in his eyes. "topaz is not willing you should leave him, and neither am i. when you are older, his majesty, my father, will look after your fortunes. for the present you shall be a page." "your highness!" protested the lady gertrude, "have you considered? the pages are of lofty birth. will it not go hard with the peasant? give him a purse and let him go." the princess answered but did not remove her gaze from the boy's flushed face, while topaz's cold little nose nestled in his down-dropped hand. "gabriel is my friend, be he prince or peasant," she said slowly, "and it will go hard with those who love him not." the young girl's eyes met gabriel's and then she smiled as light-heartedly as on this morning when she wore the woolen gown. "and now make topaz dance," she added, "the way he danced in the woods." the boy's happy glance dropped to the dog, and he raised his finger. with alacrity topaz sat up, and then gabriel began to whistle. how the court ladies murmured with soft laughter, for no one had ever seen such a pretty sight. not for any of them, not for the princess herself, had topaz danced as he danced to-day. "ah," murmured the princess, "how much more powerful than the whip is love!" when music and dancing had ceased, she smiled once more upon gabriel, whose happy heart was full. "go now," she said, "and learn of your new duties; but the chief one you have learned already. it is to be faithful!" chapter xii the talking doll mr. evringham's horseback rides in these days were apt to be accompanied by the stories, which jewel related to him with much enthusiasm while they cantered through wood-roads, and it is safe to say that the tales furnished full as much entertainment at second hand as they had at first. the golden dog had deeply impressed jewel's fancy, and when she finished relating the story, her face all alight, mr. evringham shook his head. "star is going to have his hands full, i can see," he remarked, restraining essex maid's longing for a gallop. "why, grandpa?" "to hold his own against that dog." jewel looked thoughtful. "i suppose it wouldn't be any use to try to teach star to dance, would it?" she asked. "oh, yes. ponies learn to dance. we shall have to go to a circus and let you see one; but how should you like it every time star heard a band or a hand-organ to have him get up on his hind legs and begin?" jewel laughed and patted her pony's glossy neck. "i guess i like star best the way he is," she replied, "but grandpa, did you ever _hear_ of such a darling dog?" "i confess i never did," admitted the broker. "i should think there was some trick star could learn," said jewel musingly. "why, of course there is. tell zeke you wish to teach star to shake hands. he'll help you." this idea pleased jewel very much, and in the fullness of time the feat was accomplished; but by the time the black pony had learned that he must lift his little hoof carefully and put it in his mistress's hand, before his lump of sugar was forthcoming, he wished, like the lady gertrude, that there had never been a yellow dog in the world. when next mrs. evringham, jewel, and anna belle settled in the ravine to the reading of a story, it was jewel's turn to choose. when her mother had finished naming the remaining titles, the child hesitated and lifted her eyebrows and shoulders as she gave the reader a meaning glance. mrs. evringham wondered what was in her mind, and, after a minute's thought, jewel turned to anna belle, sitting wide-eyed against a tree. "just excuse me one minute, dearie," she said; then, coming close to her mother's ear, she whispered:-- "is there anything in 'the talking doll' to hurt anna belle's feelings?" "no, i think she'd rather like it," returned mrs. evringham. "you see," whispered jewel, "she doesn't know she's a doll." "of course not," said mrs. evringham. jewel sat back: "i choose," she said aloud, "i choose 'the talking doll.'" as anna belle only maintained her usual amiable look of interest, mrs. evringham proceeded to read aloud as follows:-- * * * * * when gladys opened her eyes on her birthday morning, the sun was streaming across her room, all decorated in rose and white. it was the prettiest room any little girl could have, and everything about the child looked so bright, one would have expected her to laugh just for sympathy with the gay morning; but as she sat up in bed she yawned instead and her eyes gazed soberly at the dancing sunbeams. "ellen," she called, and a young woman came into the room. "oh, you're awake, miss gladys. isn't this a fine birthday mother nature's fixed up for you?" the pleasant maid helped the little girl to bathe and dress, and, as the toilet went on, tried to bring a cheerful look into gladys's face. "now what are you hoping your mother has for you?" she asked, at last. "i don't know," returned the child, very near a pout. "there isn't anything i want. i've been trying to think what i'd like to have, and i can't think of a thing." she said this in an injured tone, as if the whole world were being unkind to her. ellen shook her head. "you are a very unlucky child," she returned impressively. "i am not," retorted gladys, looking at ellen in astonishment. the idea that she, whom her father and mother watched from morning until night as their greatest treasure, could be called unlucky! she had never expressed a wish in her life that had not been gratified. "you mustn't say such things to me, ellen," added the child, vexed that her maid did not look sorry for having made such a blunder. ellen had taken care of her ever since she was born, and no one should know better what a happy, petted life she had led; but ellen only shook her head now; and when gladys was dressed she went down to the dining-room where her parents were waiting to give her a birthday greeting. they kissed her lovingly, and then her mother said:-- "well, what does my little girl want for her gift?" "what have you for me?" asked gladys, with only faint interest. she had closets and drawers full of toys and books and games, and she was like a person who has been feasted and feasted, and then is asked to sit down again at a loaded table. for answer her mother produced from behind a screen a beautiful doll. it was larger and finer than any that gladys had owned, and its parted, rosy lips showed pearly little teeth within. gladys looked at it without moving, but began to smile. then her mother put her hand about the doll's waist and it suddenly said: "ma-ma--pa-pa." "oh, if she can talk!" cried gladys, looking quite radiant for a minute, and running forward she took the doll in her arms. "her name is vera," said the mother, happy at having succeeded in pleasing her child. "here is something that your grandmother sent you, dear. isn't it a quaint old thing?" and gladys's mother showed her a heavy silver bowl with a cover. on the cover was engraved, "it is more blessed to give than to receive." "i don't know where your grandma found such an odd thing nor why she sent it to a little girl; but she says it will be an heirloom for you." gladys looked at the bowl and handled it curiously. the cover fitted so well and the silver was so bright she was rather pleased at having, such a grown-up possession. "it is evidently valuable," said her mother. "i will have it put with our silver." "no," returned gladys, and her manner was the willful one of a spoiled child. "i want it in my room. i like it." "oh, very well," answered her mother. "grandma will be glad that you are pleased." an excursion into the country had been planned for gladys to-day. she had some cousins there, a girl of her own age and a boy a little older. she had not seen faith and ernest for five years. their father and mother were away on a long visit now, so the children were living in the old farmhouse with an aunt of their father's to take care of them. gladys's mother thought it would be a pleasant change for her in the june weather, and it was an attractive idea to gladys to think of giving these country cousins a sight of her dainty self, her fine clothes, and perhaps she would take them one or two old toys that she liked the least; but the coming of vera put the toy idea completely out of her head. what would faith say to a doll who could talk! gladys was in haste now for the time to come to take the train; and as vera was well supplied with various costumes, the doll was soon arrayed, like her little mamma, in pretty summer street-dress and ready to start. gladys's father had a guest to-day, so his wife remained at home with him, and ellen took charge of the birthday excursion. driving to the station and during the hour's ride on the train, gladys was in gay spirits, chattering about her new doll and arranging its pretty clothes, and each time vera uttered her words, the child would laugh, and ellen laughed with her. gladys was a girl ten years old, but to the maid she was still a baby, and although ellen thought she saw the child's parents making mistakes with her every day, she, like them, was so relieved when gladys was good-natured that she joined heartily in the little girl's pleasure now over her birthday present. "won't faith's eyes open when she sees vera?" asked gladys gayly. "i expect they will," returned ellen. "what have you brought with you for her and her brother?" the child shrugged her shoulders. "nothing. i meant to but i forgot it, because i was so pleased with vera. isn't her hair sweet, ellen?" and gladys twisted the soft, golden locks around her fingers. "yes, but it would have been nice to bring something for those children. they don't have so much as you do." "of course not. i don't believe they have much of anything. you know they're poor. mother sends them money sometimes, so it's all right." and gladys poked the point of her finger within vera's rosy lips and touched her little white teeth. ellen shook her head and gladys saw it and pouted. "why didn't _you_ think of it, then, or mother?" she asked. "you won't have somebody to think for you all your life," returned ellen. "you'd better be beginning to think about other people yourself, gladys. what's that it said on your grandmother's silver bowl?" "oh, i don't know. something about giving and receiving." "yes. 'it is more blessed to give than to receive,' that's what it said," and ellen looked hard at her companion, though with a very soft gaze, too; for she loved this little girl because she had spent many a wakeful night and busy day for her. "yes, i remember," returned gladys. "grandma had that put on because she wanted me to know how much she would rather give me things than have people give things to her. anyway, ellen, if you are going to be cross on my birthday i wish mother had come with me, instead;" and a displeased cloud came over the little-girl's face, which ellen hastened to drive away by changing the subject. she knew her master and mistress would reprove her for annoying their idol. they always said, when their daughter was unusually naughty or selfish, "oh, gladys will outgrow all these things. we won't make much of them." by the time they reached the country station, gladys's spirits were quite restored and, carrying her doll, she left the train with ellen. faith and ernest were there to meet them. no wonder the children did not recognize each other, for they had been so young when last they met; and when gladys's curious eyes fell upon the country girl, she felt like a princess who comes to honor humble subjects with a visit. faith and ernest had never thought about being humble subjects. their rich relative who lived in some unknown place and sometimes sent their mother gifts of money and clothing had often roused their gratitude, and when she had written that their cousin gladys would like to visit the farm on her birthday, they at once set their wits to work to think how they could make her have a good time. they always had a good time themselves, and now that vacation had begun, the days seemed very full of fun and sunshine. they thought it must be hard to live in a city street as their mother had described, it to them, and even though she was away now and could not advise them, they felt as if they could make gladys enjoy herself. faith's hair was shingled as short as her brother's, and her gingham frock was clean and fresh. she watched each person descend from the train, and when a pretty girl with brown eyes and curls appeared, carrying a large doll, faith's bright gaze grew brighter, and she was delighted to find that it was gladys. she took it for granted that kind-faced ellen, so well dressed in black, was her aunt, and greeted her so, but gladys's brown eyes widened. "my mother couldn't come, for father needed her," she explained. "this is my maid, ellen." "oh," said faith, much impressed by such elegance. "we thought aunt helen was coming. ernest is holding the horse over here," and she led the way to a two-seated wagon where a twelve-year-old boy in striped shirt and old felt hat was waiting. faith made the introductions and then helped gladys and ellen into the back seat of the wagon, all unconscious of her cousin's wonder at the absence of silver mountings and broadcloth cushions. then faith climbed over the wheel into the seat beside her brother, and the horse started. she turned about so as to talk more easily with her guest. "what a beautiful doll!" she said admiringly. "yes," returned gladys, "this is my birthday, you know." "oh, then, is it new? i thought it was! hasn't she the prettiest clothes? have you named her yet?" "her name is vera. mother says it means true, or truth, or something like that." ernest turned half around to glance at the object of the girls' admiration; but he thought gladys herself a much more attractive creature than the doll. "i suppose your cousin gladys can't ask you to admire her doll much, master ernest," said ellen. she liked these rosy children at once, and the fresh, sunlit air that had painted their cheeks. "oh, it's pretty enough," returned ernest, turning back and clucking to the horse. gladys enjoyed faith's pleasure. she would not try to show off vera's supreme accomplishment in this rattlety-banging wagon. how it did jounce over occasional stones in the country road! [illustration: "i hear a sheep"] ellen smiled at her as the child took hold of her arm in fear of losing her balance. "that was a 'thank-ye-ma'am,'" she said, as the wagon suddenly bounded over a little hillock. "didn't you see what a pretty curtsy we all made?" but gladys thought it was rather uncomfortable and that ernest drove too fast, considering the state of the toads. "this wagon has such nice springs," said faith. she was eager to take vera into her own hands, but no wonder gladys liked to hold her when she had only had her such a short time. aunt martha was standing on the piazza to welcome the company when they arrived. she was an elderly woman with spectacles, and it had to be explained to her, also, that ellen was not gladys's mother. the maid was so well dressed in her quiet street suit that aunt martha groaned in spirit at first at the prospect of caring for a fashionable city servant; and it was a relief when the stranger looked up and said pleasantly: "i'm just ellen." there was an hour left before dinner, and faith and ernest carried gladys off to a place they called the grove. the farmhouse was painted in light yellow and white. it was built on a grassy slope, and at the foot of a gentle hill a pretty pond lay, and out from this flowed a brook. if one kept quite still he could hear the soft babble of the little stream even from the piazza. nearer by was a large elm-tree, so wide-spreading that the pair of baltimore orioles who hung their swaying nest on one limb scarcely had a bowing acquaintance with the robins who lived on the other side. the air was full of pleasant scents, and gladys followed her hosts willingly, far to the right side of the house, where a stone wall divided the grounds from a piece of woodland. her cousins bounded over the wall, and she tried to find a safe spot for her dainty, thin shoe, the large doll impeding her movements. "oh, let me take her!" cried faith eagerly, seeing her cousin's predicament; and as she carefully lifted the beautiful vera, she added: "help gladys over, ernest." ernest was very unused to girls who had to be helped, and he was rather awkward in trying to give his cousin assistance, but as gladys tetered on the unsteady stones, she grasped his strong shoulder and jumped down. "father and ernest cleared this grove out for us," explained faith. all the underbrush had been carried away and the straight, sweet-smelling pines rose from a carpet of dry needles. a hammock was swung between two trees. it was used more by the children's mother than by them, as they were too active to care for it; but gladys immediately ran toward it, her recovered doll in her arms, and seated herself in the netting. her cousins regarded her admiringly as she sat there pushing herself with her dainty shoe-tips. "i'll swing you," said ernest, and running to her side began with such a will that gladys cried out:-- "oh, not so hard, not so hard!" and the boy dropped his hands, abashed. now, while they were both standing before her, was a good time for gladys to give them her great surprise; so she put her hands about vera's waist, and at once "ma-ma--pa-pa" sounded in the still grove. ernest pricked up his ears. "i hear a sheep," he said, looking about. gladys flushed, but turning toward faith for appreciation, she made the doll repeat her accomplishment. "it's that dear vera!" cried faith, falling on her knees in the pine needles before gladys. "oh, make her do it again, gladys, please do!" her visitor smiled and complied, pleased with her country cousin's delight. "think of a doll that can talk!" cried faith. "i think she bleats," laughed ernest, and he mimicked vera's staccato tones. faith laughed, too, but gladys gave him a flash of her brown eyes. "a boy doesn't know anything about dolls," said faith. "i should think you'd be the happiest girl, gladys!" "i am," returned gladys complacently. "what sort of a doll have you, faith?" "rag, tag, and bobtail," laughed ernest. "now you keep still," said his sister. "i'll show you my dolls when we go to dinner, gladys. i don't play with them very much because ernest doesn't like to, and now it's vacation we're together a lot, you know; but i just love them, and if you were going to stay longer we'd have a lot of fun." faith looked so bright as she spoke, gladys wished she had brought something for her. she wasn't so sure about ernest. he was a nice-looking, strong boy, but he had made fun of vera. at present he was letting off some of his superfluous energy by climbing a tree. "look out for the pitch, ernest," said his sister warningly. "see, gladys, i have a horse out here," and faith went to where the low-growing limb of a pine sprang flexibly as she leaped upon it into an imaginary side-saddle. gladys smiled at her languidly, as she bounded gayly up and down. "i have a pony," returned gladys, rocking gently in her swinging cradle. "that must be splendid," said faith. "ernest rides our old tom bareback around the pasture sometimes, but i can't." very soon the children were called to dinner, and wonderfully good it tasted to gladys, who took note of cottage cheese, apple-butter, and doughnuts, and determined to order them at home the very next day. as they were all rising from the table, a telegraph boy drove up in a buggy, and a telegram was handed to ellen. her face showed surprise as she read it, and she looked at aunt martha. "could we stay here a few days?" she asked. "what is it, ellen?" demanded gladys. "your father's friend wants him and your mother to take a trip with him, and your mother thinks you might like to stay here a while. i'm to answer, and she will send some clothes and things." aunt martha had already learned to like good, sensible ellen, and she replied cordially; so a telegram went back by the messenger boy, and faith and gladys both jumped up and down with pleasure at the prolonging of the visit. ernest looked pleased, too. in spite of gladys's rather languid, helpless ways, he admired her very much; so the children scampered away, being left this time on a chair in the parlor. "do you like turtles?" asked faith of the guest. "i don't know," returned gladys. "didn't you ever see any?" asked ernest in astonishment. "i don't believe so." "then come on!" cried the boy, with a joyous whoop. "we'll go turtle-hunting." gladys skipped along with them until they reached the brook. "now ernest will walk on that side of the water," said faith, "and you and i will go on this." "but what are we going to do?" "watch for turtles. you'll see." ernest jumped across the brook. gladys walked along the soft grass behind faith, and the bubbling little stream swirled around its stones and gently bent its grasses as it ran through the meadow. in a minute faith's practiced eye caught sight of a dark object on a stone directly in front of them. it was a turtle sunning himself. his black shell was covered with bright golden spots, and his eyes were blinking slowly in the warm light. "quick, ernest!" cried faith, for it was on his side. he sprang forward, but not quickly enough. the turtle had only to give one vigorous push of his hind feet and, plump, he fell into the water. instantly the brook became muddy at that point, for mr. turtle knew that he must be a very busy fellow if he escaped from the eager children who were after him. he burrowed into the soft earth while ernest and faith threw themselves flat on their stomachs. gladys opened her brown eyes wide to see her cousins, their sleeves stripped up, plunging their hands blindly about hoping to trap their reluctant playfellow. ernest was successful, and bringing up the muddy turtle, soused him in the water until his golden spots gleamed again. "hurrah!" cried faith, "we have him. let me show him to gladys, please, ernest," and the boy put the turtle into the hand stretched across to him. as soon as the creature found that kicking and struggling did not do any good, it had drawn head, legs, and tail into its pretty shell house. faith put him into gladys's hand, but the little city girl cried out and dropped him on the grass. "oh, excuse me," laughed faith. "i thought you wanted to see it." "i do, but i don't believe i want to touch it." "why, they're the dearest, cleanest things," said faith, and picking up the turtle she showed her cousin its pretty under shell of cream color and black, and the round splashes of gold on its black back. "but i saw it kicking and scratching ernest, and putting its head way out," said gladys doubtfully, "and i don't like to hold it because it might put out all its legs and things again." faith laughed. "it only has four legs and a cunning little tail; and we know how to hold it so it can't scratch us, anyway; but it won't put out its head again until it thinks we've gone away, because this is an old one. see, the shell covers my hand all over. the littler ones are livelier and more willing to put out their heads. i don't believe we've had this one before, ernest," added faith, examining the creature. "we nearly always use the big ones for horses," she explained, "and then there's a gimlet hole through the shell." "who would do that?" exclaimed gladys, drawing back. "ernest. why!" observing her cousin's look of horror. "it doesn't hurt them. we wouldn't hurt them for anything. we just love them, and if they weren't geese they'd love us, too." "use them for horses? what do you mean?" "why, they draw my smallest dolls in lovely chariots." "oh," returned gladys. this sounded mysterious and interesting. she even took the clean, compact shell into her hands for a minute before faith gathered up her dress skirt and dropped the turtle into it, the three proceeding along the brook side, taking up their watch again. the warm, sunny day brought the turtles out, and the next one they saw was not larger than the palm of ernest's hand. it was swimming leisurely with the current. they all three saw it at once, but quick as faith was, the lively little creature was quicker. as she and ernest both darted upon it, it scrambled for her side and burrowed swiftly under the bank. this was the best stronghold for the turtle, and the children knew it. "i just can't lose him, i can't!" cried faith, and gladys wondered at the fearless energy with which she dived her hand into the mud, feeling around, unmindful which portion of the little animal she grasped if she only caught him; and catch him she did. with a squeal of delight she pulled out the turtle, who continued to swim vigorously, even when in mid air. "he's splendid and lively!" exclaimed faith. "you can see him go on the grass, gladys," and the little girl put the creature down, heading him away from the brook, and he made good time, thinking he was getting away from his captor. "you see, ernest harnesses them to a little pasteboard box, and i put in my smallest dolls and we have more _fun_;" but by this time the turtle realized that he was traveling inland, and turned around suddenly in the opposite direction. "no, no, pet!" cried faith gayly. "not yet," and she picked up the lively one. "see, you hold them this way;" she held the shell between her thumb and middle finger and the sharp little claws sawed the air in vain. "there, cunning," she added, looking into the turtle's bright eyes, "go see your auntie or uncle, or whoever it is," and she put it into her dress with the other one, and they walked on. "i hope we shall find a prince," said ernest, "gladys ought to see one of those." "yes, indeed," responded faith. "they're snapping turtles, really, and they grow bigger than these common ones; but they're so handsome and hard to find we call them princes. their shells are gray on top and smooth and polished, like satin; and then, underneath, oh, they're beautiful; sometimes plain ivory, and sometimes bright red; and they have lovely yellow and black splashes where the lower shell joins the upper. i wish you could see a baby turtle, gladys. once i found one no bigger than a quarter of a dollar. i don't believe it had ever been in the water." "i wish i could," returned gladys, with enthusiasm. "i wouldn't be a bit afraid of a little, _little_ one." "of course that one she found was just a common turtle, like these," said ernest, "but a baby prince is the thing we want." "yes, indeed," sighed faith ecstatically. "if i could just once find a baby prince with a red under shell, i don't know what i'd do! i'd be too happy for anything. i've hunted for one for two whole summers. the big ones do snap so that, though they're so handsome, you can't have much fun with them." the children walked on, gladys now quite in the spirit of the hunt. they found two more spotted turtles before they turned again to retrace their steps. now it proved that this was to be a red-letter day in the history of their turtle hunts, for on the way home they found the much sought baby prince. he had been in this world long enough to become a polished little creature, with all his points of beauty brought out; but not long enough to be suspicious and to make a wild scramble when he saw the children coming. faith's trained eyes fell first upon the tiny, dark object, sunning himself happily in all his baby innocence, and blinking at the lovely green world surrounding his shallow stone. her heart beat fast and she said to herself, "oh, i _know_ it's a common one!" she tiptoed swiftly nearer. it was not a common one. it was a prince! it _was_ a prince! she didn't know whether to laugh or cry, as, holding her skirt-bag of turtles with one hand, she lightly tiptoed forward, and, falling on her knees in front of the stone, gathered up the prince, just as he saw her and pushed with his tiny feet to slip off the rock into the brook. "oh, oh, _oh_!" was all she could say as she sat there, swaying herself back and forth, and holding the baby to her flushed cheek. "what is it? what?" cried ernest, jumping across the brook to her side. she smiled at him and gladys without a word, and held up her prize, showing the pretty red under shell, while the baby, very much astonished to find himself turned over in mid air, drew himself into his house. "oh, the cunning, _cunning_ thing!" cried gladys, her eyes flashing radiantly. "i'm so glad we found him!" gladys, like a good many beside herself, became fired with enthusiasm to possess whatever she saw to be precious in the sight of others. yesterday, had she seen the baby prince in some store she would not have thought of asking her mother to buy it for her; but to-day it had been captured, a little wild creature for which faith had been searching and hoping during two summers; and poor gladys had been so busy all her life wondering what people were going to get for her, and wondering whether she should like it very well when she had it, that now, instead of rejoicing that faith had such a pleasure, she began to feel a hot unrest and dissatisfaction in her breast. "he is a little beauty," she said, and then looked at her cousin and waited for her to present to her guest the baby turtle. "why didn't i see it first?" she thought, her heart beating fast, for faith showed no sign of giving up her treasure. "do you suppose we could find another?" she asked aloud, making her wistfulness very apparent as they again took up the march toward home. "well, i guess not," laughed ernest. "two of those in a day? i guess not. let me carry it for you, faith. you have to hold up your dress skirt." "oh, thank you, ernest, i don't mind, and he's _so_ cunning!" ernest kept on with the girls, now, on their side of the brook. it would be an anti-climax to catch any more turtles this afternoon. "if i could find one," said gladys, "i would carry it home for my aquarium." "oh, have you an aquarium?" asked faith with interest. "yes, a fine one. it has gold and silver fish and a number of little water creatures, and a grotto with plants growing around it." "how lovely it must be," said faith, and gladys saw her press her lips to the baby prince's polished back. "she's an awfully selfish girl," thought gladys. "i wouldn't treat company so for anything!" "you'll see the aquarium faith and i have," said ernest. "it's only a tub, but we get a good deal of fun out of it. it's our stable, too, you see. did you notice we caught one of our old horses to-day? let's see him, faith," and ernest poked among the turtles and brought out one with a little hole made carefully in the edge of his shell. "it seems very cruel to me," said gladys, with a superior air. "oh, it isn't," returned faith eagerly. "we'd rather hurt each other than the turtles, wouldn't we, ernest?" "i guess so," responded the boy, rather gruffly. he didn't wish gladys to think him too good. "it doesn't hurt them a bit," went on faith, "but you know turtles are lazy. they're all relations of the tortoise that raced with the hare in Ã�sop's fable." her eyes sparkled at gladys, who smiled slightly. "and they aren't very fond of being horses, so we only keep them a day or two and then let them go back into the brook. i think that's about as much fun as anything, don't you, ernest?" "oh, i don't know," responded her brother, who was beginning to feel that all this turtle business was a rather youthful pastime for a member of a baseball team. "you see," went on faith, "we put the turtles on the grass only a foot or two away from the brook, and wait." "and we do have to wait," added ernest, "for they always retire within themselves and pull down the blind, as soon as we start off with them anywhere." "but we press a little on their backs," said faith, "and then they put out their noses, and when they smell the brook they begin to travel. it's such fun to see them dive in, _ker-chug_! then they scurry around and burrow in the mud, getting away from us, just as if we weren't willing they should. they are pretty silly, i must say," laughed faith, "and it's the hardest thing to make them understand that you love them; but," her tone changed tenderly as she held up the baby prince, "_you'll_ know i love you, won't you, dear, when i give you tiny little pieces of meat every day!" the cloud on gladys's face deepened. "come on, let's hustle and put the turtles away and go for a row. do you like to row, gladys?" asked ernest. "yes, i guess so," she responded, rather coldly. they ran up the hill to the side of the house where was a shallow tub of water with a rock in the middle, its top high and dry. there was also a floating shingle; so the steeds could swim or sun themselves just as suited their fancy. the upper edge of the tub was covered with tin so that sharp little claws could not find a way to climb out. "it's fun to see them go in," said faith, placing one on the rock and one on the shingle, where they rested at first without sign of life; but in a minute out came head and legs and, spurning the perches with their strong feet, plump the turtles went into the water and to the bottom, evidently convinced that they were outwitting their captors. "don't you want to choose one special one for yours, gladys? it's fun to name them," said faith. the visitor hesitated only a moment. "i choose the baby, then," she said. "you know i'm afraid of the big ones." ernest thought she was joking. it did not occur to him that any one who had seen faith's happiness in finding the prince could seriously think of taking it from her. "yes," he laughed, "i guess you and i won't get a chance at that one, gladys." faith's expression changed and her eyes grew thoughtful. "hurry up, girls," continued ernest, "come on, we won't have very much time." so the turtles, prince and all, were left disporting themselves in the tub, and the trio went down to the pond, where ernest untied his boat. faith jumped in, but gladys timorously placed her little foot upon the unsteady gunwale, and the children had to help her into the boat as they had done over the wall. "i wish i'd brought vera," she said when she was seated and ernest was pushing the boat off. "next time we will," replied faith. "i don't see why ernest couldn't go back for her now," said gladys. "i'm not used to walking so much and i'm too tired to go myself." "you want me to run up the hill after a _doll_!" asked the boy, laughing. he began to believe his pretty cousin was very fond of joking. "something might happen to her before you saw her," he added mischievously. the pond was a charming sheet of water. trees lined its edges in summer, and it was a great place for sport in winter. faith and ernest chattered to their cousin of all the coasting and skating, and their bright faces and jolly stories only increased the uncomfortable feeling that gladys had allowed to slip into her heart. her cousins had more fun than she did. it wasn't fair. she had no eyes for the pretty scenery about her, as ernest's strong arms sent the boat flying along. faith noticed her changed looks and for the first time wondered how it was going to seem to have gladys to take care of for--they couldn't tell how long; but she only tried the harder to bring back the bright look her cousin had worn at dinner time. in a few minutes gladys began to rock the boat from side to side. "don't do that, please," said ernest. there was a tone of command in his voice, and the spoiled child only rocked the harder. "none of that, i tell you, gladys," he said sharply. "please don't," added faith. but the error that gladys had let creep in was enjoying her cousin's anxiety, and she smiled teasingly as she went on rocking. she had condescended to come out to the farm, and she would let these country children see if they could order her about. ernest said no more, but he promptly turned the boat around and pulled for the shore. "what are you doing?" asked gladys. "going ashore." "i don't want to," she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. "i want to go up there." she pointed to a spot in the distance. "i want to go around that corner and see what there is there." "not to-day," replied ernest, pulling sturdily. we won't look into gladys's heart and see what went on there then, because it is too unpleasant. "you see we're the crew," said faith, a little scared by her cousin's flashing eyes and crimson cheeks. "we have to do what ernest says. he knows a lot about boats, gladys, and it _is_ dangerous to rock. the pond is real deep." "i shall come out in the boat alone, then," declared gladys. "oh, no, you won't," remarked ernest, smiling. "people that rock boats need a keeper." faith's eyes besought him, "i'll take you out to-morrow if you'll promise to sit still," he went on; "but if anything happened to the boat, you see i couldn't save both of you, and i'd be likely to try to save faith; so you'd better go ashore now and think it over." gladys stared at him in utter amazement that any one could speak to her so. why had she ever come to the farm! however, she quickly put on a little air of indifference and only said:-- "how silly to be so afraid!" all she cared for now was to get to ellen and pour out her troubles, and she was quite silent while she jumped ashore, although the wavering boat made her clutch faith's hand hard. tender-hearted faith felt very sorry for her cousin, so she began talking about vera as they went up the hill saying how anxious she was to hear her speak again. "i'll never let you!" exclaimed that strong error that had taken possession of gladys, but her lips set tight and she was glad to see ellen come out on the piazza. as the children approached they saw that the maid had something bright in her hand, and that she was smiling. "well, gladys," she said, "your mother's sent a trunk, and this was with your clothes. what do you think of that? i expect your mother thought you might like to have it." gladys recognized the silver bowl with satisfaction. she was glad to have faith and ernest see the sort of things she was used to. "oh, it looks like a wishing bowl," cried faith in admiration. "it is a solid silver bowl that my grandmother sent me for my birthday," remarked gladys coolly, and she took it from ellen. "let's see what it says on it," said faith, and she read the inscription aloud. then she added: "it does look just like the wishing bowl in our story." "what was that?" asked gladys. "why, it was a bright, beautiful silver bowl with a cover, and all you had to do if you wanted something was to say:-- pretty little silver dish, give me, pray, my dearest wish; and then, when you took off the cover, whatever you had asked for was in the bowl!" gladys shrugged her shoulders. then she took hold of ellen's hand and drew her into the house and closed the door after them. faith and ernest did not attempt to follow. they sat down on the steps and looked at one another. "she's hopping, isn't she?" said ernest softly. "oh, dear," returned faith dejectedly, "and it all began with the baby prince." "what do you mean?" "she wants him for her aquarium." ernest paused a minute to think over his cousin's words and actions; then he broke out indignantly; "well, she won't get him." "i have hunted for him so long!" mourned faith, "and his shell is so red; but, ernest, didn't you notice what it said on that bowl?" "yes, i did; but gladys is a great baby and she isn't going to get everything. tell her you'll exchange the prince for that baa-ing doll of hers, if you like it. i tell you what, faith, i've had about enough of her after that boat business. if she's going to stay on here i shall go off with the fellows." meanwhile gladys had seized the beautiful vera and drawn ellen off upstairs to their room. the maid saw the signs of storm in her face, and her own grew troubled, for it was one thing to vex gladys and quite another to appease her. "i'm not going to stay here," announced the little girl, as soon as the door was closed, her breath coming fast. "faith and ernest are the most selfish, impolite children i ever saw!" ellen sighed, and, sitting down, drew the child into her lap. she continued excitedly: "we went turtle-hunting and found a lot of scrabbly things that i couldn't bear, but faith and ernest like them. then when we found a pretty little young one that i wouldn't be a bit afraid of, faith kept it for herself. just think, when i was company, and she had all the others beside. i'm just crazy to have it, and they're _very_ hard to find and we can't _ever_ find another. shouldn't you think she'd feel ashamed? then when, we went out in the boat, just because i moved around a little and made the boat rock, ernest brought us in when i didn't want to come a bit. i even _told_ him i didn't want to come in, because i wanted to see a part of the pond that looked pretty, but he brought us just the same. did you ever _hear_ of such impoliteness?" ellen had had too much experience with the little girl not to know that there was another side to this story; but she gathered gladys down in her arms with the curly head on her shoulder, and, while a few hot tears fell from the brown eyes, she rocked her, and it comforted the little girl's sore places to feel her nurse's love. "i'm glad ernest brought you in," said ellen, after a minute of silent rocking. "if anything happened to you, you know that would be the last of poor ellen. i could never go back to town." gladys gave a sob or two. "these children haven't nearly so much as you have," went on ellen quietly. "perhaps faith was as happy over the little turtle as you are over your talking doll. she hasn't any rich mother to give her things, you know." "they have _lots_ of things. they have a great deal more fun in winter than i do," returned gladys hotly. ellen patted her. "you have too much, gladys," she replied kindly. "when i said this morning that you were unlucky, you couldn't understand it; but perhaps this visit to the farm will make you see differently. there's such a thing as having too much, dear, and that sentence on your silver bowl is as true as true. now there's the supper bell. let me wash your face." gladys was deeply offended, but she was also hungry, and she began to wonder if there would be apple-butter and cottage cheese again. there was, and the little girl did full justice to the supper, especially to aunt martha's good bread and butter; but when the meal was over she refused to go out and romp on the lawn with her cousins. "gladys isn't used to so much running around," said ellen pleasantly to the other children. "i guess she's a pretty sleepy girl and will get into bed early." so when ellen had helped aunt martha with the supper dishes, gladys went upstairs with her, to go to bed. she was half undressed when some one knocked softly, and faith came into the room. the silver bowl stood on a table near the door, and the little girl paused to look at it and examine the wreath of roses around its edge. "i never saw one so handsome," she said. then she came forward. "i thought perhaps you'd let me see you undress vera," she added. "she is undressed," answered gladys shortly. "oh, yes!" faith went up to the bed where the doll lay in its nightdress. "may i make her speak once?" "no, i'm afraid you might hurt her," returned gladys shortly, and ellen gave her a reproachful look. gladys didn't care! how could a girl expect to be so selfish as faith, and then have everybody let her do just what she wanted to? faith drew back from the bed. "i wish you'd let me see you wish once on your bowl before i go away," she said. "how silly," returned gladys. "do you suppose i believe in such things? you can wish on it yourself, if you like." "oh, that wouldn't be any use," returned faith eagerly, "because it only works for the one it belongs to." "perhaps you wouldn't like to have me make a wish and get it," said gladys, thinking of the baby prince's lovely polished tints and bewitching little tail. "yes, i would. i'd _love_ to. do, gladys, do, and see what happens." gladys curved her lips scornfully, but the strong wish sprang in her thought, and with a careless movement she pulled off the silver cover. her mouth fell open and her eyes grew as big as possible; for she had wished for the prince, and there he was, creeping about in the bowl and lifting his little head in wonder at his surroundings. "why, faith!" was all she could say. "where did it come from?" "the brook, of course," returned faith, clapping her hands in delight at her cousin's amazement. "take him out and let's see whether he's red or plain ivory underneath." "will he scrabble?" asked gladys doubtfully. "no-o," laughed faith. so the little city girl took up the turtle and lo, he was as beautiful a red as the one of the afternoon. "isn't he lovely!" she exclaimed, not quite liking to look her cousin in the eyes. "where shall i put him for to-night?" "we'll put a little water in your wash-bowl, not much, for they are so smart about climbing out." ellen, also, was gazing at the royal infant. "he is a pretty little thing," she said, "but for pity's sake, faith, fix it so he won't get on to my bare feet!" later, when they were alone and ellen kissed gladys good-night, she looked closely into her eyes "now you're happier, i suppose," she said. "of course. won't he be cunning in my aquarium?" asked gladys, returning her look triumphantly. "yes." vera was in bed, also, and to please the child, ellen stooped and kissed the doll's forehead, too. "god be good," she said gently, "to the poor little girl who gets everything she wants!" a few minutes after the light was out and ellen had gone, gladys pulled vera nearer to her. "wasn't that a silly sort of thing for ellen to say?" she asked. "i don't think so," returned vera. gladys drew back. "did you answer me?" she said. "certainly i did." "then you really can talk!" exclaimed gladys joyfully. "at night i can," said vera. "oh, i'm so glad. i'm so glad!" and gladys hugged her. "i'm not so sure that you will be," returned vera coolly. "why not?" "because i have to speak the truth. you know my name is vera." "well, i should hope so. did you suppose i wouldn't want you to speak the truth?" gladys laughed. "yes. you don't hear it very often, and you may not like it." "why, what a thing to say!" "ellen tries, sometimes, but you won't listen." gladys kept still and her companion proceeded: "she knows all the toys and books and clothes and pets that you have at home, and she sees you forgetting all of them because faith has just one thing pretty enough for you to wish for." by this time gladys had found her tongue. "you're just as impolite as you can be, vera!" she exclaimed. "of course. you always think people are impolite who tell you the truth; but i explained to you that i have to. who was impolite when you rocked the boat, although ernest asked you not to?" "he was as silly as he could be to think there was any danger. don't you suppose i know enough not to rock it too far? and then think how impolite he was to say right out that he would save faith instead of me if we fell into the water. i can tell you my father would lock him up in prison if he didn't save me." "well, you aren't so precious to anybody else," returned vera. "why would people want a girl around who thinks only of herself and what she wants. i'm sure faith and ernest will draw a long breath when you get on the cars to go back." "oh, i don't believe they will," returned gladys, ready to cry. "what have you done to make them glad you came? you didn't bring them anything, although you knew they couldn't have many toys, and it was because you were so busy thinking how much lovelier your doll was than anything faith could have. then the minute faith found one nice thing"-- "don't say that again," interrupted gladys. "you've said it once." "you behaved so disagreeably that she had to give it to you." "you have no right to talk so. the prince came up from the brook, faith said so." "oh, she was playing a game with you and she knew you understood. it isn't pleasant to have to say such things to you, gladys, but i'm vera and i have to--i shouldn't think you could lift your head up and look faith and ernest in the face to-morrow morning. what must ernest think of you!" gladys's cheeks were very hot. "didn't you see how glad faith was when she gave--i mean when i found the prince in the bowl? i guess you haven't read what it says on that silver cover or you wouldn't talk so." "oh, yes, i have. that's truth, too, but you haven't found it out yet." "well, i wish i had brought them something," said gladys, after a little pause. "why," with a sudden thought, "there's the wishing-bowl. i'll get something for them right now!" she jumped out of bed, and striking a match, lighted the candle. vera followed her, and as gladys seated herself on one side of the little table that held the silver bowl, vera climbed into a chair on the other side. gladys looked into her eyes thoughtfully while she considered. she would give faith something so far finer than the baby prince that everybody would praise her for her generosity, and no one would remember that she had ever been selfish. ah, she knew what she would ask for! "for faith first," she said, addressing vera, then looking at the glinting bowl she silently made her wish, then with eager hand lifted off the cover. ah! ah! what did she behold! a charming little bird, whose plumage changed from purple to gold in the candle light, stood on a tiny golden stand at the bottom of the bowl. gladys lifted it out, and as soon as it stood on her hand, it began to warble wonderfully, turning its head from side to side like some she had seen in switzerland when she was there with her mother. "oh, vera, isn't it _sweet_!" she cried in delight. "beautiful!" returned vera, smiling and clapping her little hands. when the song ceased gladys looked thoughtful again. "i don't think it's a very appropriate present for faith," she said, "and i've always wanted one, but we could never find one so pretty in our stores." vera looked at her very soberly. "now you just stop staring at me like that, vera. i guess it's mine, and i have a right to keep it if i can think of something that would please faith better. now let me see. i must think of something for ernest. i'll just give him something so lovely that he'll wish he'd bitten his tongue before he spoke so to me in the boat." gladys set the singing bird in her lap, fixed her eyes on the bowl, and again decided on a wish. taking off the cover, a gold watch was seen reposing on the bottom of the bowl. "that's it, that's what i wished for!" she cried gladly, and she took out the little watch, which was a wonder. on its side was a fine engraving of boys and girls skating on a frozen pond. gladys's bright eyes caught sight of a tiny spring, which she touched, and instantly a fairy bell struck the hour and then told off the quarters and minutes. "oh, it's a repeater like uncle frank's!" she cried, "and so small, too! mother said i couldn't have one until i was grown up. won't she be surprised! i don't mean to tell her for ever so long where i got it." "i thought it was for ernest," remarked vera quietly. "why, vera," returned the child earnestly, "i should think you'd see that no boy ought to have a watch like that. if it was a different _kind_ i'd give it to him, of course." "yes, if it wasn't pretty and had nothing about it that you liked, you'd give it to him, i suppose; and if the bird couldn't sing, and had dark, broken feathers so that no child would care about it, you'd give it to faith, no doubt." gladys felt her face burn. she knew this was the truth, but oh, the entrancing bird, how could she see it belong to another? how could she endure to see ernest take from his pocket this watch and show people its wonders! "selfishness is a cruel thing," said vera. "it makes a person think she can have a good time being its slave until all of a sudden the person finds out that she has chains on that cannot be broken. you think you can't break that old law of selfishness that makes it misery to you to see another child have something that you haven't. poor, unhappy gladys!" "oh, but this bird, vera!" gladys looked down at the little warbler. what did she see! a shriveled, sorry, brown creature, its feathers broken. she lifted it anxiously. no song was there. its poor little beady eyes were dull. she dropped it in disgust and again picked up the watch. what had happened to it? the cover was brass, the picture was gone. pushing the spring had no effect. "oh, faith and ernest can have them now!" cried gladys. presto! in an instant bird and watch had regained every beauty they had lost, and twinkled and tinkled upon the astonished child's eyes and ears until she could have hugged them with delight; but suddenly great tears rolled from her eyes, for she had a new thought. "what does this mean, vera? will they only be beautiful for faith and ernest?" "you asked for them to enjoy the blessing of giving, you know, not to keep for yourself. beside, they showed a great truth when they grew dull." "how?" asked gladys tearfully. "that is the way they would look to you in a few months, after you grew tired of them; for it is the punishment of the selfish, spoiled child, that her possessions disgust her after a while. there is only one thing that lives, and remains bright, and brings us happiness,--that is thoughtful love for others. there's nothing else, gladys, there is nothing else. i am vera." "and i have none of it, none!" cried the unhappy child, and rising, she threw herself upon the bed, broken-hearted, and sobbed and sobbed. ellen heard her and came in from the next room. "what is it, my lamb, what is it?" she asked, approaching the bed anxiously. "oh, ellen, i can't tell you. i can never tell you!" wailed the child. "well, move over, dearie. i'll push vera along and there'll be room for us all. there, darling, come in ellen's arms and forget all about it." gladys cuddled close, and after a few more catches in her breath, she slept soundly. when she wakened, the sunlight was streaming through the plain room, gilding everything as it had done in her rose and white bower yesterday at home. ellen was moving about, all dressed. gladys turned over and looked at vera, pretty and innocent, her eyes closed and her lips parted over little white teeth. the child came close to the doll. the wonderful dream returned vividly. "your name is vera. you had to," she whispered, and closed her eyes. "how is the baby prince?" she asked, after a minute, jumping out of bed. "he's lively, but i expect he's as hungry as you are. what's he going to have?" "meat," replied gladys, looking admiringly at the pretty little creature. "i brought in my wash-bowl for your bath. i suppose princes can't be disturbed," said ellen. while she buttoned gladys's clothes, the little girl looked at the silver bowl, and the chairs where she and vera had sat last night in her dream. she even glanced about to see some sign of watch and bird, but could not find them. how busily her thoughts were working! sensible ellen said nothing of bad dreams; and by the time gladys went downstairs, her face looked interested and happy. after all, it wasn't as though there wasn't any god to help a person, and she had said a very fervent prayer, with her nose buried in vera's golden curls, before she jumped out of bed. she had the satin shell of the baby prince in her hand. he had drawn into it because he was very uncertain what was going to happen to him; but gladys knew. she said good-morning to her cousins so brightly that faith was pleased; but pretty as she looked, smiling, ernest saw the prince in her hand and was more offended with her than ever. "i want to thank you, faith," she said, "for letting the baby stay in my room all night. i had the most fun watching him while i was dressing." she put the little turtle into her cousin's hand. "oh, but i gave him to you," replied faith earnestly. "after you hunted for him for two summers, i couldn't be so mean as to take him. i'm just delighted you found him, faith," and gladys had a very happy moment then, for she found she _was_ happy. "let's give him some bits of meat." "she's all right," thought ernest, with a swift revulsion of feeling, and he was as embarrassed as he was astonished when his cousin turned suddenly to him:-- "if you'll take me in the boat again," she said, "i won't rock. i'm sorry i did." "it _is_ a fool trick," blurted out ernest, "but you're all right, gladys. i'll take you anywhere you want to go." ellen had heard this conversation. later in the morning she was alone for a minute with gladys, and the little girl said:-- "don't you think it would be nice, ellen, when we get home, to make up a box of pretty things and send to faith and ernest?" "i do, that," replied the surprised ellen. "i'm going to ask mother if i can't send them my music-box. they haven't any piano." "why, you couldn't get another, gladys." "i don't care," replied the child firmly. "it would be so nice for evenings and rainy days." she swallowed, because she had not grown tired of the music box. ellen put her hands on the little girl's brow and cheeks and remembered the sobbing in the night. "do you feel well, gladys?" she asked, with concern. this unnatural talk alarmed her. "i never felt any better," replied the child. "well, i wouldn't say anything to them about the music-box, dearie." gladys smiled. "i know. you think i'd be sorry after i let it go; but if i am i'll talk with vera." ellen laughed. "do you think it will always be enough for you to hear her say 'ma-ma, pa-pa?'" she asked. gladys smiled and looked affectionately at her good friend; but her lips closed tightly together. ellen knew all that vera did; but the nurse loved her still! the child was to have many a tussle with the hard mistress whose chains she had worn all her short life, but truth had spoken, and she had heard; and love was coming to help in setting her free. chapter xiii a heroic offer jewel told her grandfather the tale of the talking doll while they walked their horses through a favorite wood-road, mr. evringham keeping his eyes on the animated face of the story-teller. his own was entirely impassive, but he threw in an exclamation now and then to prove his undivided attention. "_you_ know it's more blessed to give than to receive, don't you, grandpa?" added jewel affectionately, as she finished; "because you're giving things to people all the time, and nobody but god can give you anything." "i don't know about that," returned the broker. "have you forgotten the yellow chicken you gave me?" "no," returned jewel seriously; "but i've never seen anything since that i thought you would care for." mr. evringham nodded. "i think," he said confidentially, "that you have given me something pretty nice in your mother. do you know, i'm very glad that she married into our family." "yes, indeed," replied jewel, "so am i. just supposing i had had some other grandpa!" the two shook their heads at one another gravely. there were some situations that could not be contemplated. "why do you suppose i can't find any turtles in my brook?" asked the child, after a short pause. "mother says perhaps they like meadows better than shady ravines." "perhaps they do; but," and the broker nodded knowingly, "there's another reason." "why, grandpa, why?" asked jewel eagerly. "oh, nature is such a neat housekeeper!" "why, turtles must be lovely and clean." "yes, i know; and if summer would just let the brook alone you might find a baby turtle for anna belle." "she'd love it. her eyes nearly popped out when mother was telling about it." "well, there it is, you see. now i'd be ashamed to have you see that brook in august, jewel." mr. evringham slapped the pommel of his saddle to emphasize the depth of his feelings. "why, what happens?" "dry--as--a--bone!" "it _is_?" "yes, indeed. we shan't have been long at the seashore when summer will have drained off every drop of water in that brook." "what for?" "house-cleaning, of course. i suppose she scrubs out and sweeps out the bed of that brook before she'll let a bit of water come in again." "well, she _is_ fussy," laughed jewel. "even mrs. forbes wouldn't do that." "i ask you," pursued mr. evringham, "what would the turtles do while the war was on?" "why, they couldn't live there, of course. well, we won't be here while the ravine is empty of the brook, will we, grandpa? i shouldn't like to see it." "no, we shall be where there's 'water, water everywhere.' even summer won't attempt to houseclean the bottom of the sea." jewel thought a minute. "i wish she wouldn't do that," she said wistfully; "because turtles would be fun, wouldn't they, grandpa?" mr. evringham regarded her quizzically. "i see what you want me to do," he replied. "you want me to give up wall street and become the owner of a menagerie, so you can have every animal that was ever heard of." jewel smiled and shook her head. "i don't believe i do yet. we'll have to wait till everybody loves to be good." "what has that to do with it?" "then the lions and tigers will be pleasant." "will they, indeed?" mr. evringham laughed. "all those good people won't shut them up in cages then, i fancy." "no, i don't believe they will," replied jewel. "but about those turtles," continued her grandfather. "how would you like it next spring for me to get some for you for the brook?" jewel's eyes sparkled. "wouldn't that be the most _fun_?" she returned,--"but then there's summer again," she added, sobering. "what's the reason that we couldn't drive with them to the nearest river before the brook ran dry?" "perhaps we could," replied jewel hopefully "doesn't mother tell the _nicest_ stories, grandpa?" "she certainly does; and some of the most wonderful you don't hear at all. she tells them to me after you have gone to bed." "then you ought to tell them to me," answered jewel, "just the way i tell mine to you." mr. evringham shook his head. "they probably wouldn't make you open your eyes as wide as i do mine; you're used to them. they're christian science stories. your mother has been treating my rheumatism, jewel. what do you think of that?" "oh, i'm glad," replied the child heartily, "because then you've asked her to." "how do you know i have?" "because she wouldn't treat you if you hadn't, and mother says when people are willing to ask for it, then that's the beginning of everything good for them. you know, grandpa," jewel leaned toward him lovingly and added softly, "you know even _you_ have to meet mortal mind." "i shouldn't wonder," responded the broker dryly. "and it's so proud, and hates to give up so," said jewel. "i'm an old dog," returned mr. evringham. "teaching me new tricks is going to be no joke, but your mother undertakes it cheerfully. i'm reading that book, 'science and health;' and she says i may have to read it through three times before i get the hang of it." "i don't believe you will, grandpa, because it's just as _plain_," said the child. "you'll help me, jewel?" "yes, indeed i will;" the little girl's face was radiant. "and won't mr. reeves be glad to see you coming to church with us?" "i don't know whether i shall ever make mr. reeves glad in that way or not. i'm doing this to try to understand something of what you and your mother are so sure of, and what has made a man of your father. more than that, if there is any eternity for us, i propose to stick to you through it, and it may be more convenient to study here than off in some dim no-man's-land in the hereafter. if i remain ignorant, who can tell but the power that is will whisk you away from me by and by." jewel gathered the speaker's meaning very well, and now she smiled at him with the look he loved best; all her heart in her eyes. "he wouldn't. god isn't anybody to be afraid of," she said. "why, it tells us all through the bible to fear god." "yes, of course it tells us to fear to trouble the one who loves us the best of all. just think how even you and i would fear to hurt one another, and god is keeping us _alive_ with _his_ love!" half an hour afterward their horses cantered up the drive toward the house. mrs. evringham was seated on the piazza, sewing. her husband had sent the summer wardrobe promptly, and she wore now a thin blue gown that looked charmingly comfortable. "genuine!" thought her father-in-law, as he came up the steps and met a smiling welcome from her clear eyes. he liked the simple manner in which she dressed her hair. he liked her complexion, and carriage, and voice. "i don't know but that you have the better part here on the piazza, it is so warm," he said, "but i have been thinking of you rather remorsefully this afternoon, julia. these excursions of jewel's and mine are growing to seem rather selfish. have you ever learned to ride?" "never, and i don't wish to. please believe how supremely content i am." "my carriages are small. it is so long since i've had a family. when we return i shall get one that will hold us all." "oh, yes, grandpa," cried jewel enthusiastically. "you and i on the front seat, driving, and mother and father on the back seat." "well, we have more than two months to decide how we shall sit. i fancy it will oftener be your father and mother in the phaeton and you and i on our noble steeds, eh, jewel?" "yes, i think so, too," she returned seriously. mr. evringham smiled slightly at his daughter. "the occasions when we differ are not numerous enough to mention," he remarked. "i hope it may always be so," she replied, going on with her work. "this looks like moving," observed the broker, wiping his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief and looking about on the still, green scene. "i think we had better plan to go to the shore next week." julia smiled and sighed. "very well, but any change seems as if it might be for the worse," she said. "then you've never tried summer in new jersey," he responded. "i hear you are a great story-teller, julia. if i should wear some large bows behind my ears, couldn't i come to some of these readings?" as no laugh from jewel greeted this sally, he looked down at her. she was gazing off wistfully. "what is it, jewel?" he asked. "i was wondering if it wouldn't seem a long time to essex maid and star without us!" "dear me, dear me, how little you do know those horses!" and the broker shook his head. "why, grandpa? will they like it?" "do you suppose for one minute that you could make them stay at home?" "are they going with us, grandpa?" jewel began to hop joyfully, but her habit interfered. "certainly. they naturally want to see what sort of bits and bridles are being worn at the seashore this year." "do you realize what unfashionable people you are proposing to take, yourself, father?" asked julia. she was visited by daily doubts in this regard. the broker returned her glance gravely. "have you ever seen jewel's silk dress?" he asked. the child beamed at him. "she _made_ it!" she announced triumphantly. "then you must know," said mr. evringham, "that it would save any social situation." julia laughed over her sewing. "my machine came to-day," she said. "i meant to make something a little fine, but if we go in a few days"-- "don't think of it," replied the host hastily. "you are both all right. i don't want you to see a needle. i'm sorry you are at it now." "but i like it. i really do." "i'm going to take you to the coolest place on long island, but not to the most fashionable." "that is good news," returned julia, "run along, jewel, and dress for dinner." "in one minute," put in mr. evringham. "she and i wish your opinion of something first." he disappeared for a moment into the house and came back with a flat package which jewel watched with curious eyes while he untied the string. silently he placed a photograph in his daughter's lap while the child leaned eagerly beside her. "why, why, how good!" exclaimed mrs. evringham, and jewel's eyes glistened. "isn't grandpa's nose just splendid!" she said fervently. "why, father, this picture will be a treasure," went on julia. color had risen in her face. the photograph showed jewel standing beside her grandfather seated, and her arm was about his neck. it was such a natural attitude that she had taken it while waiting for the photographer to be ready. the daisy-wreathed hat hung from her hand, and she had not known when the picture was taken. it was remarkably lifelike, and the broker regarded it with a satisfaction none the less keen because he let the others do all the talking. "and now we don't need it, grandpa," said the child. "oh, indeed we do!" exclaimed the mother; and jewel, catching her grandfather's eyes, lifted her shoulders. what did her mother know of their secret! mr. evringham smoothed his mustache. "no harm to have it, jewel," he replied, nodding at her. "no harm; a very good plan, in fact; for i suppose, even to oblige me, you can't refrain from growing up. and next we must get star's picture, with you on his back." "but you weren't on essex maid's," objected jewel. "we'll have it taken both ways, then. it's best always to be on the safe side." from this day on there was no more chance for jewel to hear a tale in the story book, until the move to the seashore was accomplished, for hot weather had evidently come to stay in bel-air park. mrs. evringham felt loath to leave its green, still loveliness and her large shady rooms; but the new jerseyite's heat panic had seized upon her father-in-law, and he pushed forward the preparations for flight. "i can't pity you for remaining here," julia said to mrs. forbes on the morning of departure. "no, ma'am, you don't need to," returned the housekeeper. "zeke and i are going off on trips, and we, calculate to have a pretty good time of it. i've been wanting to speak to you, mrs. evringham, about a business matter," continued mrs. forbes, her manner indicating that she had constrained herself to make an effort. "mr. evringham tells me you and mr. harry are to make your home with him. it's a good plan," emphatically, "as right as right can be; for what he would do without jewel isn't easy to think of; but it's given me a lot to consider. i won't be necessary here any more," the housekeeper tried to conceal what the statement cost her. she endeavored to continue, but could not, and julia saw that she did not trust her voice. "mr. evringham has not said that, i am sure," she returned. "no, and he never would; but that shouldn't prevent my doing right. you can take care of him and his house now, and i wanted to tell you that i see that, plainly, and am willing to go when you all come back. i shall have plenty of time this summer to turn around and make my plans. there's plenty of work in this world for willing hands to do, and i'm a long way off from being worn out yet." "i'm so glad you spoke about this before we left," replied mrs. evringham, smiling on the brave woman. "father has said nothing to me about it, and i am certain he would as soon dispense with one of the supports of the house as with you. we all want to be busy at something, and i have a glimmering idea of what my work is to be; and i think it is not housekeeping. i should be glad to have our coming disturb father's habits as little as possible, and certainly neither you or i should be the first to speak of any change." mrs. forbes bit her lip. "well," she returned, "you see i knew it would come hard on him to ask me to go, and i wanted you both to know that i'd see it reasonably." "it was good of you," said julia; "and that is all we ever need to be sure of--just that we are willing to be led, and then, while we look to god, everything will come right." the housekeeper drank in the sweet expression of the speaker's eyes, and smiled, a bit unsteadily. "of course i'd rather stay," she replied. "transplanting folks is as hard and risky as trees. you can't ever be sure they'll flourish in the new ground; but i want to do right. i've been reading some in zeke's book, 'science and health,' and there was one sentence just got hold of me:[ ] 'self-love is more opaque than a solid body. in patient obedience to a patient god, let us labor to dissolve with the universal solvent of love the adamant of error--self-will, self-justification, and self-love!' jewel's helped me to dissolve enough so i could face handing over the keys of this house to her mother. i'm not saying i could have offered them to everybody." [footnote : _s. and h._, page .] mrs. evringham smiled. "thank you. i hope it isn't your duty to give them, nor mine to take them. we'll leave all that to father. my idea is that he would send us all back to chicago rather than give you up--his right hand." mrs. forbes's face relaxed, and she breathed more freely than for many days. as she took her way out to the barn to report this conversation to zeke, her state of mind agreed with that of her employer when he declared his pleasure that julia had married into the family. chapter xiv robinson crusoe a long stretch of white, fine sandy beach, packed hard; an orderly procession of waves, each one breaking in seething, snowy foam that ran or crept after a child's bare feet as she skipped back and forth, playing with them; that was long island to jewel. of course there was a village and on its edge a dear, clean old farmhouse where they all lived, and in whose barn essex maid and star found stables. then there were rides every pleasant day, over cool, rolling country, and woods where one was as liable to find shells as flowers. there were wide, flat fields of grain, above which the moon sailed at night; each spot had its attraction, but the beach was the place where jewel found the greatest joy; and while mr. evringham, in the course of his life, had taken part to the full in the social activities of a summer resort where men are usually scarce and proportionately prized, it can be safely said that he now set out upon the most strenuous vacation of his entire career. it was his habit in moments of excitement or especial impressiveness to address his daughter-in-law as "madam," and on the second morning after their arrival, as she was sitting on the sand, viewing the great bottle-green rollers that marched unendingly landward, she noticed her father-in-law and jewel engaged in deep discussion, where they stood, between her and the water. mr. evringham had just come to the beach, and the incessant noise of the waves made eavesdropping impossible; but his gestures and jewel's replies roused her curiosity. the child's bathing-suit was dripping, and her pink toes were submerged by the rising tide, when her grandfather seized her hand and led her back to where her mother was sitting. "madam," he said, "this child mustn't overdo this business. she tells me she has been splashing about for some time, already." "and i'm not a bit cold, mother," declared jewel. "h'm. her hands are like frogs' paws, madam. i can see she is a perfect water-baby and will want to be in the waves continually. she says you are perfectly willing. then it is because you are ignorant. she should go in once a day, madam, once a day." "oh, grandpa!" protested jewel, "not even wade?" "we'll speak of that later; but put on your bathing-suit once a day only." mr. evringham looked down at the glowing face seriously. jewel lifted her wet shoulders and returned his look. "put it on in the morning, then, and keep it on all day?" she suggested, smiling. "at the proper hour," he went on, "the bathing master is here. then you will go in, and your mother, i hope." "and you, too, grandpa?" "yes, and i'll teach you to jump the waves. i taught your father in this very place when he was your age." "oh, goody!" jewel jumped up and down on the warm sand. "what fun it must have been to be your little boy!" she added. mr. evringham refrained from looking at his daughter-in-law. he suspected that she knew better. "look at all this white sand," he said. "this was put here for babies like you to play with. old ocean is too big a comrade for you." "i just love the foam," returned the child wistfully, "and, oh, grandpa," eagerly, "i tasted of it and it's as _salt_!" mr. evringham smiled, looking at his daughter. "yes," said julia. "jewel has gone into lake michigan once or twice, and i think she was very much surprised to find that the atlantic did not taste the same." "sit down here," said mr. evringham, "and i'll show you what your father used to like to do twenty-five years ago." jewel sat down, with much interest, and watched the speaker scoop out a shallow place in the sand and make a ring about it. "there, do you see these little hoppers?" julia was looking on, also. "aren't they cunning, jewel?" she exclaimed. "exactly like tiny lobsters." "only they're white instead of red," replied the child, and her grandfather smiled and caught one of the semi-transparent creatures. "lobsters are green when they're at home," he said. "it's only in our homes that they turn red." "really?" "yes. there are a number of things you have to learn, jewel. the ocean is a splendid playmate, but rough. that is one of the things for you to remember." "but i can wade, can't i? i want to build so many things that the water runs up into." "certainly, you can take off your shoes and stockings when it's warm enough, as it is this morning, if your mother is willing you should drabble your skirts; but keep your dress on and then you won't forget yourself." jewel leaned toward the speaker affectionately. "grandpa, you know i'm a pretty big girl. i'll be nine the first of september." "yes, i know that." "beside, you're going to be with me all the time," she went on. "h'm. well, now see these sand-fleas race." "oh, are they sand-fleas? just wait for anna belle." the child reached over to where the doll was gazing, fascinated, at the advancing, roaring breakers. her boa and plumed hat had evidently been put away from the moths. she wore a most becoming bathing costume of blue and white, and a coquettish silk handkerchief was knotted around her head. it was evident that, in common with some other summer girls, she did not intend to wet her fetching bathing-suit, and certainly it would be a risk to go into the water wearing the necklace that now sparkled in the summer sun. "come here, dearie, and see the baby lobsters," said jewel, holding her child carefully away from her own glistening wetness, and seating her against mrs. evringham's knee. "if lobsters could hop like this," said mr. evringham, "they would be shooting out of the ocean like dolphins. now you choose one, jewel, and we'll see which wins the race. we're going to place them in the middle of the ring, and watch which hops first outside the circle." jewel chuckled gleefully as she caught one. "oh, mother, aren't his eyes funny! he looks as _surprised_ all the time. now hop, dearie," she added, as she placed him beside the one mr. evringham had set down. "which do you guess, anna belle? she guesses grandpa's will beat." "well, i guess yours, jewel," said her mother; but scarcely were the words spoken when anna belle's prophecy was proved correct by the airy bound with which one of the fleas cleared the barrier while jewel's choice still remained transfixed. they all laughed except anna belle, who only smiled complacently. jewel leaned over her staring protégée. "if i only knew _what_ you were so surprised at, dearie, i'd explain it to you," she said. then she gently pushed the creature, and it sped, tardily, over the border. they pursued this game until the bathing-suit was dry; then mr. evringham yawned. "ah, this bright air makes me sleepy. haven't you something you can read to us, julia?" "yes, yes," cried jewel, "she brought the story-book." "but i didn't realize it would be so noisy. i could never read aloud against this roaring." "oh, we'll go back among the dunes. that's easy," returned mr. evringham. "you don't want to hear one of these little tales, father," said julia, flushing. "why, he just loves them," replied jewel earnestly. "i've told them all to him, and he's just as _interested_." mrs. evringham did not doubt this, and she and the broker exchanged a look of understanding, but he smiled. "i'll be very good if you'll let me come," he said. "i forgot the ribbon bows, but perhaps you'd let me qualify by holding anna belle. run and get into your clothes, jewel, and i'll find a nice place by that dune over yonder." fifteen minutes afterward the little party were comfortably ensconced in the shade of the sand hill whose sparse grasses grew tall about them. jewel began pulling on them. "you'll never pull those up," remarked mr. evringham. "i believe their roots go down to china. i've heard so." "anna belle and i will dig sometime and see," replied jewel, much interested. "there are only two stories left," said mrs. evringham, who was running over the pages of the book. "and let grandpa choose, won't you?" said jewel. "oh, yes," and the somewhat embarrassed author read the remaining titles. "i choose robinson crusoe, of course," announced mr. evringham. "this is an appropriate place to read that. i dare say by stretching our necks a little we could see his island." "well, this story is a true one," said julia. "it happened to the children of some friends of mine, who live about fifty miles from chicago." then she began to read as follows:-- robinson crusoe "i guess i shall like robinson crusoe, mamma!" exclaimed johnnie ford, rushing into his mother's room after school one day. "you would be an odd kind of boy if you did not," replied mrs. ford, "and yet you didn't seem much pleased when your father gave you the book on your birthday." "well, i didn't care much about it then, but fred king says it is the best story that ever was, and he ought to know; he rides to school in an automobile. say, when'll you read it to me? do it now, won't you?" "if what?" corrected mrs. ford. "oh, if you please. you know i always mean it." "no, dear, i don't think i will. a boy nine years old ought to be able to read robinson crusoe for himself." johnnie looked startled, and stood on one leg while he twisted the other around it. "if you have a pleasant object to work for, it will make it so much the easier to study," continued mrs. ford, as she handed johnnie the blue book with a gold picture pressed into its side. johnnie pouted and looked very cross. "it's a regular old trap," he said. [illustration: trudging along before him] "yes, dear, a trap to catch a student;" and pretty mrs. ford's low laugh was so contagious that johnnie marched out of the room, fearing he might smile in sympathy; but he soon found that leaving the room was not escaping from the fascinating crusoe. up to this time johnnie had never taken much interest in school-books beyond scribbling on their blank margins. was it really worth while, he wondered, "to buckle down" and learn to read? he knew just enough about the famous crusoe to make him wish to learn more, so he finally decided that it was worth while, if only to impress chips wood, his next-door neighbor and playmate, a boy a year younger than himself, whom johnnie patronized out of school hours. so he worked away until at last there came a proud day when he carried the blue and gold wonder book into chips' yard, and, seated beside his friend on the piazza step, began to read aloud the story of robinson crusoe. it would be hard to tell which pair of eyes grew widest and roundest as the tale unfolded, and when johnnie, one day, laid the book down, finished, two sighs of admiration floated away over mrs. wood's crocus bed. "chips, i'd rather be robinson crusoe than a king!" exclaimed johnnie. "so would i," responded chips. "let's play it." "but we can't both be crusoes. wouldn't you like to be friday?" asked johnnie insinuatingly, "he was so nice and black." "ye-yes," hesitated chips, who had great confidence in johnnie's judgment, but whose fancy had been taken by the high cap and leggings in the golden picture. "then i've got a plan," and johnnie leaned toward his friend's ear and whispered something under cover of his hand, that opened the younger boy's eyes wider than ever. "now you mustn't tell," added johnnie aloud, "'cause that wouldn't he like men a hit. promise not to, deed and double!" "deed and double!" echoed chips solemnly, for that was a very binding expression between him and johnnie. for several days following this, mrs. wood and mrs. ford were besieged by the boys to permit them to earn money; and mrs. ford, especially, was astonished at the way johnnie worked at clearing up the yard, and such other jobs as were not beyond his strength; but, inquire as she might into the motive of all this labor, she could only discover that chips and johnnie wished to buy a hen. "have you asked father if you might keep hens?" she inquired of johnnie, but he only shook his head mysteriously. chips' mother found him equally uncommunicative. she would stand at her window which overlooked the fords' back yard, and watch the boys throw kindling into the shed, or sweep the paths, and wonder greatly in her own mind. "bless their little hearts, what can it all be about?" she questioned, but she could not get at the truth. suddenly the children ceased asking for jobs, and announced that they had all the money they cared for. the day after this announcement was the first of april. when mr. ford came home to dinner that day, he missed johnnie. "i suppose some of his schoolmates have persuaded him to stay and share their lunch," explained mrs. ford. she had scarcely finished speaking when mrs. wood came in, inquiring for chips. "i have not seen him for two hours," she said, "and i cannot help feeling a little anxious, for the children have behaved so queerly lately." "i know," returned mrs. ford, beginning to look worried. "why, do you know, johnnie didn't play a trick on one of us this morning. i actually had to remind him that it was april fools' day." mr. ford laughed. "how woe-begone you both look! i think there is a very simple explanation of the boys' absence. chips probably went to school to meet johnnie, who has persuaded him to stay during the play hour. i will drive around there on my way to business and send chips home." the mothers welcomed this idea warmly; and in a short time mr. ford set out, but upon reaching the school was met with the word that johnnie had not been seen there at all that morning. then it was his turn to look anxious. he drove about, questioning every one, until he finally obtained a clue at the meat market where he dealt. "your little boy was in here this morning about half past ten, after a ham. he wouldn't have it charged; said 'twas for himself," said the market-man, laughing at the remembrance. "he didn't have quite enough money to pay for it, but i told him i guessed that would be all right, and off they went, him and the little wood boy, luggin' that ham most as big as they was." "then they were together. which way did they go?" "straight south, i know, 'cause i went to the door and watched 'em. you haven't lost 'em, have you?" "i hope not," and mr. ford sprang into his buggy, and drove off in the direction indicated, occasionally stopping to inquire if the children had been seen. to his great satisfaction he found it easy to trace them, thanks to the ham; and a little beyond the outskirts of the town he saw a promising speck ahead of him on the flat, white road. as he drew nearer, the speck widened and heightened into two little boys trudging along before him. his heart gave a thankful bound at sight of the dear little legs in their black stockings and knee breeches, and leaving his buggy by the side of the road, he walked rapidly forward and caught up with the boys, who turned and faced him as he approached. displeased as he was, mr. ford could hardly resist a hearty laugh at the comical appearance of the runaways. chips carried the big, heavy ham, and johnnie was keeping firm hold of a hen, who stretched her neck and looked very uncomfortable in her quarters under his arm. "why, father!" exclaimed johnnie, recovering from a short tussle with the poor hen, "how funny that you should be here." "no stranger than that you should be here, i think. where, if i have any right to ask, are you going?" "to lake michigan," replied johnnie composedly. "oh, i do wish this old hen would keep still!" "then you have fifty miles before you," said mr. lord. "yes, sir," replied johnnie, "but it would have been a thousand miles to the ocean, you know." "ha, ha, ha!" roared mr. ford, mystified, but unable to control himself any longer at sight of johnnie and the hen, and patient-faced chips clutching the ham. "i am glad you don't mind, father," said johnnie. "i thought it would be so nice for you and mother and mrs. wood not to have chips and me to worry about any more." "it was very thoughtful of you," replied mr. ford, remembering the anxious faces at home. "and what are you going to do at lake michigan?" "take a boat and go away and get wrecked on a desert island, like robinson crusoe," responded johnnie glibly, at the same time hitching the hen up higher under his arm. "and how about chips?" "oh, i'm man friday," chirped chips, his poor little face quite black enough for the character. "i am so sorry we had to tell you so soon," said johnnie. "we were keeping it a secret until we got to the lake; then we were going to send you a letter." mr. ford looked gravely into his son's grimy face. it was an honest face, and johnnie had always been a truthful boy, and just now seemed only troubled by the restless behavior of his hen; so the father rightly concluded that the blue and gold book had captivated him into the belief that what he and chips were doing was admirable and heroic. "what part is the hen going to play?" asked the gentleman. "is she going to help stock your island?" "oh, no, but we couldn't get along without her, because she's going to lay eggs along the way." "lay eggs?" "yes, for our lunch. at first we weren't going to take anything but the hen, but chips said he liked ham and eggs better'n anything, so we decided to take it." another pause; then mr. ford said: "you both look tired, haven't you had enough of it? i'm going home now." "no, no," asserted the boys. "and have you thought of your mothers, whom you didn't even kiss good-by?" johnnie stood on one leg and twisted the other foot around it, after his manner when troubled. "i thought you knew, johnnie, that nothing ever turns out right when you undertake it without first consulting mother." "i wish now i'd kissed mine good-by," observed friday thoughtfully. "come, we'll go back together," said mr. ford quietly, moving off as he spoke, "and we will see what mrs. wood and mother have to say on the subject." johnnie and chips followed slowly. "father," said the former emphatically, "i can't be happy without being wrecked, and i do hope mother won't object." his father made no reply to this, and three quarters of an hour afterward the children jumped out of the buggy into their mothers' arms, and as they still clung to their lunch, the ham and the hen came in for a share of the embracing, which the hen objected to seriously, never having been hugged before this eventful day. "never mind, mother," said johnnie patronizingly, "father'll tell you all about it while i go and put speckle in a safe place." so the boys went, and mr. ford seated himself in an armchair, and related the events of the afternoon to the ladies, adding some advice as to the manner of making the boys see the folly of their undertaking. mrs. wood and chips took tea at the fords' that evening, and the boys, once delivered from the necessity of keeping their secret, rattled on incessantly of their plans; talked so much and so fast, in fact, that their parents were not obliged to say anything, which was a great convenience, as they had nothing they wished to say just then. it had been a mild first of april, and after supper the little company sat out on the piazza for a time. "as johnnie and chips will be obliged to spend so many nights out of doors on their way to lake michigan, it will be an excellent plan to begin immediately," said mr. ford. "you'll like to spend the night out here, of course, boys. to be sure, it will be a good deal more comfortable than the road, still you can judge by it how such a life will suit you." johnnie looked at chips and chips looked at johnnie; for the exertions of the day had served to make the thought of their white beds very inviting; but mr. ford and the ladies talked on different subjects, and took no notice of them. at last the evening air grew uncomfortably cool, and the grown people rose to go in. "good-night, all," said mrs. wood, starting for home. chips watched her down to the gate. "aren't you going to kiss me good-night?" he called. "of course, if you want me to," she answered, turning back, "but you went away this morning without kissing me, you know." then she kissed him and went away; and in all his eight years of life little man friday had never felt so forlorn. johnnie held up his lips sturdily to bid his father and mother good-night. "i think we are going to have a thunder-storm, unseasonable as it will be," remarked mr. ford pleasantly, standing in the doorway. "well, i suppose you won't mind it. good luck to you, boys!" then the heavy front door closed. johnnie had never before realized what a clang it made when it was shut. the key turned with a squeaking noise, a bolt was pushed with a solid thud; all the windows came banging down, their locks were made fast, and johnnie and chips felt literally, figuratively, and every other way left out in the cold. there was an uncomfortable silence for a minute; then chips spoke. "your house is splendid and safe, isn't it, johnnie?" "yes, it is." "i wonder where we'd better lie down," pursued chips. "i'm sleepy. let's play we're crusoe and friday now." "oh, we can't," responded johnnie impatiently, "not with so many com--" he was going to say comforts, but changed his mind. the night was very dark, not a twinkling star peeped down at the children, and the naked branches of the climbing roses rattled against the pillars to which they were nailed, for the wind was rising. the boys sat down on the steps and chips edged closer to his companion. "i think it was queer actions in my mother," he said, "to leave me here without any shawl or pillow or anything." a little chill crept over johnnie's head from sleepiness and cold. "our mothers don't care what happens to us," he replied gloomily. the stillness of the house and the growing lateness of the hour combined to make him feel that if being wrecked was more uncomfortable than this, he could, after all, be happy without it. "what do you think?" broke in the shivering man friday. "mamma says ham isn't good to eat if it isn't cooked." "and that's the meanest old hen that ever lived!" returned crusoe. "she hasn't laid an egg since i got her." a distant rumble sounded in the air. "what's that?" asked chips. "well, i should think you'd know that's thunder," replied johnnie crossly. "oh, yes," said little chips meekly, "and we're going to get wet." they were both quiet for another minute, while the wind rose and swept by them. "i really think, johnnie," began chips apologetically, "that i'm not big enough to be a good man friday. i think to-morrow you'd better find somebody else." "no, indeed," replied johnnie feelingly. "i'd rather give up being wrecked than go off with any one but you. if you give up, i shall." the rain began to patter down. "if you don't like to get wet, chips, i'd just as lieves go and ring the bell as not," he added. a sudden sweep of wind nearly tipped the children over, for they had risen, undecidedly. "no," called chips stoutly, to be heard above the blast. "i'll be friday till to-morrow." his last word sounded like a shout, for the wind suddenly died. "what do you scream so for?" asked johnnie impatiently; but the storm had only paused, as it were to get ready, and now approached swiftly, gathering strength as it came. it swept across the piazza, taking the children's breath away and bending the tall maple in front of the house with such sudden fury that a branch snapped off; then the wind died in the distance with a rushing sound and the breaking tree was illumined by a flash of lightning. "i think, johnnie," said chips unsteadily, "that god wants us to go in the house." a peal of thunder roared. "i've just thought," replied johnnie, keeping his balance by clutching the younger boy as tightly as chips was clinging to him, "that perhaps it wasn't right for us to run off the way we did, without getting any advice." they strove with the wind only a few seconds more, then, with one accord, struggled to the door where one rang peal after peal at the bell, while the other pounded sturdily. johnnie didn't stop then to wonder how his father could get downstairs to open the door so quickly. mrs. ford, too, seemed to have been waiting for the pair of heroes, and she took them straight to johnnie's room, where she undressed them in silence and rolled them into bed. they said their prayers and were asleep in two minutes, while the storm howled outside. then, in some mysterious way, mrs. wood came into the room, and the three parents stood watching the unconscious children. "that's the last of one trial with those boys, i'm sure," said mr. ford, laughing, and he was right; for it was years before any one heard either johnnie or chips mention robinson crusoe or his man friday. chapter xv st. valentine after that day when, on the lee side of the sand-dune the evringham family read together the story of johnnie and chips, it was some time before the last tale in the story book was called for. the farmhouse where they boarded stood near a pond formed by the rushing in of the sea during some change in the sands of the beach, so here was still another water playmate for jewel. "i do hope," said mr. evringham meditatively, on the first morning that he and jewel stood together on its green bank, "i do hope that very particular housekeeper, nature, will let this pond alone until we go!" jewel looked up at his serious face with the lines between the eyes. "she wouldn't touch this great big pond, would she?" she asked. "ho! wouldn't she? well, i guess so." "but," suggested jewel, lifting her shoulders, "she's too busy in summer in the ravines and everywhere." "oh," mr. evringham nodded his head knowingly. "nature looks out for everything." "grandpa!" jewel's eyes were intent. "would she ask summer to touch this great big pond? what would she want to do it for?" "oh, more house-cleaning, i suppose." the child chuckled as she looked out across the blue waves, rippling in the wind and white-capped here and there, "when you know it's washed all the _time_, grandpa," she responded. "the waves are just scrubbing it now. can't you see?" "yes," the broker nodded gravely. "no doubt that is why she has to empty it so seldom. sometimes she lets it go a very long time; but then the day comes when she begins to think it over, and to calculate how much sediment and one thing and another there is in the bottom of that pond; and at last she says, 'come now, out it must go!'" "but how can she get it out, how?" asked jewel keenly interested. "the brooks are all running somewhere, but the pond doesn't. how can she dip it out? it would take summer's hottest sun a year!" "yes, indeed, nature is too clever to try that. the winds are her servants, you know, and they understand their business perfectly; so when she says 'that pond needs to be cleaned out,' they merely get up a storm some night after everybody's gone to bed. the people have seen the pond fine and full when the sun went down. all that night the wind howls and the windows rattle and the trees bend and switch around; and if those in the farmhouse, instead of being in bed, were over there on the beach," the speaker waved his hand toward the shining white sand, distant, but in plain sight, "they might see countless billows working for dear life to dig a trench through the hard sand. the wind sends one tremendous wave after another to help them, and as a great roller breaks and recedes, all the little crested waves scrabble with might and main, pulling at the softened sand, until, after hours of this labor, the cut is made completely through from sea to pond." mr. evringham looked down and met the unwinking gaze fixed upon him. "then why--why," asked jewel, "when the big rollers keep coming, doesn't the pond get filled fuller than ever?" the broker lifted his forefinger toward his face with a long drawn "ah-h! nature is much too clever for _that_. she may not have gone to college, but she understands engineering, all the same. all this is accomplished just at the right moment for the outgoing tide to pull at the pond with a mighty hand. well,"--pausing dramatically,--"you can imagine what happens when the deep cut is finished." "does the pond have to go, grandpa?" "it just does, and in a hurry!" "is it sorry, do you think?" asked jewel doubtfully. "we-ell, i don't know that i ever thought of that side of it; but you can imagine the feelings of the people in the farmhouse, who went to bed beside the ripples of a smiling little lake, and woke to find themselves near a great empty bog." jewel thought and sighed deeply. "well," she said, at last, "i hope nature will wait till we're gone. i love this pond." "indeed i hope so, too. there wouldn't be any pleasant side to it." jewel's thoughtful face brightened. "except for the little fishes and water-creatures that would rush out to sea. it's fun for _them_. mustn't they be surprised when that happens, grandpa?" "i should think so! do you suppose the wind gives them any warning, or any time to pack?" jewel laughed. "i don't know; but just think of rushing out into those great breakers, when you don't expect it, right from living so quietly in the pond!" "h'm. a good deal like going straight from bel-air park to wall street, i should think." jewel grew serious. "i think fish have the most _fun_," she said. "do you know, grandpa, i've decided that if i couldn't be your little grandchild, i'd rather be a lobster than anything." the broker threw up his head, laughing. "some children could combine the two," he replied, "but you can't." "what?" asked jewel. "nothing. why not be a fish, jewel? they're much more graceful." "but they can't creep around among the coral and peek into oyster shells at the pearls." "imagine a lobster peeking!" mr. evringham strained his eyes to their widest and stared at jewel, who shouted. "that's just the way the sand-fleas look," she exclaimed. "well," remarked the broker, recovering his ordinary expression, "you may as well remain a little girl, so far as that goes. you can creep around among the coral and peek at pearls at tiffany's." "what's tiffany's?" "something you will take more interest in when you're older." the broker shook his head. "the difference is that the lobster wouldn't care to wear the coral and pearls. an awful thought comes over me once in a while, jewel," he added, after a pause. the child looked up at him seriously. "it can be met," she answered quickly. he smiled. he understood her peculiar expressions in these days. "hardly, i think," he answered. "it is this: that you are going to grow up." jewel looked off at the blue water. "well," she replied at last hopefully, "you're grown up, you know, and perhaps you'll like me then just as much as i do you." he squeezed the little hand he held. "we'll hope so," he said. "and besides, grandpa," she went on, for she had heard him express the same dread before, "we'll be together every day, so perhaps you won't notice it. sometimes i've tried to see a flower open. i've known it was going to do it, and i've been just _bound_ i'd see it; and i've watched and watched, but i never could see when the leaves spread, no matter how much i tried, and yet it would get to be a rose, somehow. perhaps some day somebody'll say to you, 'why, jewel's a grown up lady, isn't she?' and you'll say, 'is she, really? why, i hadn't noticed it.'" "that's a comforting idea," returned mr. evringham briefly, his eyes resting on the upturned face. "so now, if the pond won't run away, we'll have the most _fun_," went on jewel, relieved. "they _said_ we could take this boat, grandpa, and have a row." she lifted her shoulders and smiled. "h'm. a row and a swim combined," returned the broker. "i'm surprised they've nothing better this year than that ramshackle boat. you'll have to bail if we go." "what's bail?" eagerly. "dipping out the water with a tin cup." "oh, that'll be fun. it'll be an adventure, grandpa, won't it?" "i hope not," earnestly, was the reply; but jewel was already sitting on the grass pulling off her shoes and stockings. she leaped nimbly into the wet boat, and mr. evringham stepped gingerly after her, seeking for dry spots for his canvas shoes. "i think," said the child joyfully, as they pushed off, "when the winds and waves notice us having so much fun, they'll let the pond alone, don't you?" "if they have any hearts at all," responded mr. evringham, bending to the oars. "oh, grandpa, you can tell stories like any thing!" exclaimed jewel admiringly. "it has been said before," rejoined the broker modestly. * * * * * when outdoor gayeties had to be dispensed with one day, on account of a thorough downpour of rain, the last story in jewel's book was called for. the little circle gathered in the big living-room; there was no question now as to whether mr. evringham should be present. "it is hobson's choice this time," said mrs. evringham, "so we'll all choose the story, won't we?" "let anna belle have the turn, though," replied jewel. "she chose the first one and she must have the last, because she doesn't have so much fun as the rest of us." she hugged the doll and kissed her cheeks comfortingly. it was too true that often of late anna belle did not accompany all the excursions, but she went to bed with jewel every night, and it was seldom that the child was too sleepy to take her into full confidence concerning the events of the day; and anna belle, being of a sedentary turn and given to day dreams, was apparently quite as well pleased. now mr. evringham settled in a big easy-chair; the reader took a small one by the window, and jewel sat on the rug before the fire, holding anna belle. "now we're off," said mr. evringham. "go to sleep if you like, father," remarked the author, smiling, and then she began to read the story entitled st. valentine there was a little buzz of interest in miss joslyn's room in the public school, one day in february, over the arrival of a new scholar. only a very little buzz, because the new-comer was a plain little girl as to face and dress, with big, wondering eyes, and a high-necked and long-sleeved gingham apron. "take this seat, alma," said miss joslyn; and the little girl obeyed, while ada singer, the scholar directly behind her, nudged her friend, lucy berry, and mimicked the stranger's surprised way of looking around the room. the first day in a new school is an ordeal to most children, but alma felt no fear or strangeness, and gazed about her, well pleased with her novel surroundings, and her innocent pleasure was a source of great amusement to ada. "isn't she queer-looking?" she asked of lucy, as at noon they perched on the window-sill in the dressing-room, where they always ate their lunch together. "yes, she has such big eyes," assented lucy. "who is she?" "why, her mother has just come to work in my father's factory. her father is dead, or in prison, or something." "oh, no!" exclaimed a voice, and looking down from their elevated seat the girls saw alma driscoll, a big tin dinner-pail in her hand, and her cheeks flushing. "my father went away because he was discouraged, but he is coming back." ada shrugged her shoulders and took a bite of jelly-cake. "what a delicate appetite you must have," she said, winking at lucy and looking at the big pail. "oh, it isn't full; the things don't fit very well," replied alma, taking off the cover and disclosing a little lunch at the bottom; "but it was all the pail we had." then she sat down on the floor of the dressing-room and took out a piece of bread and butter. "well, upon my word, if that isn't cool!" exclaimed ada, staring at the brown gingham figure. alma looked up mildly. she had come to the dressing-room on purpose to eat her lunch where she could look at lucy berry, who seemed beautiful to alma, with her brown eyes, red cheeks, and soft cashmere dress, and it never occurred to her that she could be in the way. ada turned to lucy with a curling lip. "i should hate to be a third party, shouldn't you?" she asked, so significantly that even alma couldn't help understanding her. tears started to the big eyes as the little girl dropped her bread back into the hollow depths of the pail, replaced the cover, and went away to find a solitary corner, with a sorer spot in her heart than she had ever known. "oh, why did you say that, ada?" exclaimed lucy, making a movement as if to slip down from the window-seat and follow. "don't you go one step after her, lucy berry," commanded ada. "my mother doesn't want me to associate with the children of the factory people. she'll find plenty of friends of her own kind." "but you hurt her feelings," protested lucy. "oh, no, i didn't," carelessly; "besides, if i did, she'll forget all about it. i had to let her know that she couldn't stay with us. do you want a stranger like that to hear everything we're saying?" "i feel as if i ought to go and find her and see if she has somebody to eat with." "very well, lucy. if you go with her, i can't go with you, that's all. you can take your choice." the final tone in ada's voice destroyed lucy's courage. the little girls were very fond of one another, and lucy was entirely under strong-willed ada's influence. ada was a most attractive little person. her father, the owner of the factory, was the richest man in town; and to play on ada's wonderful piano, where you had only to push with your feet to play the gayest music, or to ride with her in her automobile, were exciting joys to her friends. she always had money in her pocket, and boxes of candy for the entertainment of other children, and lucy was proud of her own position as ada's intimate friend. so when it came to making a choice between this brilliant companion and the gingham-clad daughter of a factory hand, lucy berry's courage and sympathy oozed away, and she sat back on the window-seat, while ada began talking about something else. this first school-day was alma driscoll's introduction into the world outside of her mother's love. she had never felt so lonely as when surrounded by all these girls, each of whom had her intimate friend, and among whom she was not wanted. she could not help feeling that she was different from the others, and day by day the wondering eyes grew shy and lonely; and she avoided the children out of school hours, bravely hiding from her mother that the gingham apron, which always hid her faded dress, seemed to her a badge of disgrace that separated her from her daintily dressed schoolmates. such was the state of affairs when st. valentine's day dawned. alma's two weeks of school had seemed a little eternity to her; but this day she could feel that there was something unusual in the air, and she could not help being affected by the pleasurable excitement afloat in the room. she knew what the big white box by the door was for, and when, after school, miss joslyn was appointed to uncover and distribute the valentines, alma found herself following the crowd, until, pressed close to lucy berry's side, she stood in the centre of the merry group about the teacher. while the dainty envelopes were being passed around her, a shade of wistfulness crept over the child's face, and her eager fingers crumpled the checked apron as though alma feared they might otherwise touch the beautiful valentines that shone so enticingly with red and blue, gold and silver. suddenly miss joslyn spoke her name,--alma driscoll; only she said "miss alma driscoll," and, yes, there was no mistake about it, she had read it off one of those vine-wreathed envelopes. "did you ever see such a goose!" exclaimed ada singer, as she watched the mixture of shyness and eagerness with which alma took her valentine and opened the envelope. poor little alma! how her heart beat as she unfolded her prize--and how it sank when she beheld the coarse, flaring picture of a sewing girl, with a disgusting rhyme printed beneath it. she dropped the valentine, a great sob of disappointment choked her, and bursting into tears, she pushed her way through the crowd and rushed from the schoolroom. "what is the meaning of that?" asked miss joslyn. for answer some one handed her the picture. the young lady glanced at it, then tore it in pieces as she looked sadly around on her scholars. "whoever sent this knows that alma's mother works in the factory," she said. "it makes me ashamed of my whole school to think there is one child in it cruel enough to do this thing;" then, amid the silent consternation of the scholars, miss joslyn rose, and leaving the half-emptied box, went home without another word. "what a fuss about nothing," said ada singer. "the idea of crying because you get a 'comic!' what else could alma driscoll expect?" lucy berry's cheeks had been growing redder all through this scene, and now she turned upon ada. "she has a right to expect a great deal else," she returned excitedly, "but we've all been so hateful to her it's a wonder if she did. i wish i'd been kind to her before," she continued, her heart aching with the remembrance of the little lonely figure, and the big, hollow dinner-pail; "but i'm going to be her friend now, always, and you can be friends with us or not, just as you please;" and turning from the astonished ada, lucy berry marched out of the schoolroom, fearing she should cry if she stayed, and sure that if there were any more beauties for her in the white box, her stanch friend, frank morse, would take care of them for her. among the valentines she had already received was one addressed in his handwriting, and she looked at it as she walked along. "it's the handsomest one i ever saw," she thought, lifting a rose here, and a group of cupids there, and reading the tender messages thus disclosed. "i know what i'll do!" she exclaimed aloud. "i'll send it to alma. frank won't care," and covering the valentine in its box, she started to run, and turned a corner at such speed that she bumped into somebody coming at equal or greater speed, from the opposite direction. a passer-by just then would have been amused to see a boy and girl sitting flat on the sidewalk, rubbing their heads and staring at one another. "lucy berry!" "frank morse!" "what's up?" "nothing. something's down, and it's me." "well, excuse me; but i guess you haven't seen any more stars than i have. i don't care anything for the fourth now, i've seen enough fireworks to last me a year." both children laughed. "you've got grit, lucy," added frank, jumping up and coming to help her. "most girls would have boo-hooed over that." "oh, i wouldn't," returned the little girl, springing to her feet. "i'm too excited." "well, what _is_ up?" persisted frank. "i skipped out of the side door to try to meet you." "well, you did," laughed lucy. "oh, frank, i don't know how i can laugh," she pursued, sobering. "i don't deserve to, ever again." "what is it? something about that driscoll kid? she was crying. i was back there and i didn't hear what miss joslyn said; but i saw her leave, and then you, and i thought _i_'d go to the fire, too, if there was one." "oh, there is," returned lucy, "right in here." she grasped the waist of her dress over where her heart was beating hard. frank morse was older than herself and ada, and she knew that he was one of the few of their friends whose good opinion ada cared for. to enlist him on alma's side would mean something. "is ada still there?" she added. "yes, she took charge of the valentine box after miss joslyn left." "oh, frank, do you suppose she could have sent alma the 'comic'?" genuine grief made lucy's voice unsteady. "supposing she did," returned frank stoutly. "is that what big-eyes was crying about? i hate people to be touchy and blubber over a thing like that." "you don't know. her mother works in the factory, and this was a horrid picture making fun of it. think of your own mother earning your living and being made fun of." "ada wouldn't do that," replied frank shortly. "what made you think of such a thing?" "it was error for me to say it," returned lucy, with a meek groan. "i've been doing error things ever since alma came to school. oh, frank, you're a christian scientist, too. you must help me to get things straight." "you don't need to be a christian scientist to see that it wasn't a square deal to send the kid that picture." "no, i know it; but when alma first came, ada said her mother didn't allow her to go with girls from the factory, and so i stopped trying to be kind to alma, because ada wouldn't like me if i did; and it's been such mesmerism, frank." the boy smiled. "do you remember the stories your mother used to tell us about the work of the error-fairies?" "indeed i do. my head's just been full of it the last fifteen minutes. i've done nothing for two weeks but give the error-fairies backbones, and i don't care what happens to me, or how much i'm punished, if i can only do right again." "who's going to punish you?" asked frank, not quite seeing the reason for so much feeling. "ada. we've always had so much fun, and now it's all over." "oh, i guess not. ada singer's all right." lucy didn't think so. she was convinced that her friend had done this last unkindness to alma, and it was the shock of that discovery that was causing a portion of her suffering now. frank and lucy talked for a few minutes longer, and it was agreed that the former should return to the school and get any other valentines that should be there for lucy and himself; then, as soon as it grew dark, they would run to the driscoll cottage with an offering. late that afternoon three mothers were called to interviews with three little girls. lucy berry surprised hers by rushing in where mrs. berry was seated, sewing. "oh!" exclaimed the little girl, "i'm so sorry all over, mother!" "then you must know why you can't be," returned mrs. berry, looking up at the flushed face and seeing something there that made her put aside her work. lucy usually considered herself too large to sit in her mother's lap, but now she did so, and flinging her arms around her neck, poured out the whole story. "to think that ada _could_ send it!" finished lucy, with one big sob. "be careful, be careful. you don't know that she did," replied mrs. berry. "'thou shalt not bear false witness.'" "oh, i do _hope_ she didn't," responded lucy, "but ada is stuck up. i've been seeing it more and more lately." "and how about the beam in my little girl's own eye?" asked mrs. berry gently. "haven't i been telling you all about it? i've been just as selfish and cowardly as i could be." lucy's voice was despairing. "i think there's a beam there still. i think you are angry with ada." "how can i help it? if it hadn't been for her i shouldn't have been so mean." "oh, lucy dear!" mrs. berry smiled over the head on her shoulder. "there is old adam again, blaming somebody else for his fall. have you forgotten that there is only one person you have the right to work with and change?" "i don't care," replied lucy hotly. "i've been calling evil good. i have. i've been calling ada good and sticking to her and letting her run me." "was it because of what you could get from her, or because of what you could do for her?" asked mrs. berry quietly. lucy was silent a minute, then she spoke: "she wanted me. she liked me better than anybody." "well, now you see what selfish attachments can turn into," returned mrs. berry. "do you remember the teaching about the worthlessness of mortal mind love? here are you and ada, yesterday thinking you love one another, and to-day at enmity." "i'm going with alma driscoll now, and i'm going to eat my lunch with her, and everything. i should think that was unselfish." "perhaps it will be. we'll see. isn't it a little comfort to you to think that it will be some punishment to ada to see you do it?" "i don't know," replied lucy, who was so honest that she hesitated. "well, then, think until you do know, and be very certain whether the thoughts that are stirring you so are all loving. you see, dearie, we're all so tempted, in times of excitement, to begin at the wrong end: tempted to begin with ourselves instead of with god. the all-loving creator of you and ada and alma has made three dear children, one just as precious to him as another. if the loveliness of his creation is hidden by something discordant, then we must work away at it; and one's own consciousness is the place where she has a right to work, and that helps all. it says in the bible 'when he giveth quietness who then can make trouble?' you can rest yourself with the thought of his great quietness now, and you will reflect it." mrs. berry paused and her rocking-chair swayed softly back and forth during a moment of silence. "you know enough about science," she went on, at last, "to be certain that weeks of an offended manner with ada would have no effect except to make her long to punish you. you know that love is reflected in love, and that its opposite is just as certain to be reflected unless one knows god's truth." "but you don't say anything at all about alma," said lucy. "she's the chief one." mrs. berry smiled. "no," she returned gently. "you are the chief one. just as soon as your thought is surely right, don't you know that your heavenly father is going to show you how to unravel this little snarl? you remember there isn't any personality to error, whether it tries to fasten on ada, or on you." lucy sat upright. her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes had lost their excited light. "frank morse and i are going to take some pretty valentines to alma's as soon as it is dark," she said. "that will be pleasant. now let us read over the lesson for to-day again, and know what a joyous thing life is." "well, mother, will you go and see mrs. driscoll some time?" "certainly i will, sunday. i suppose she is too busy to see me other days." in the singer house another excited child had rushed home from school and sought and found her mother. mrs. singer had just reached a most interesting spot in the novel she was reading, when ada startled her by running into the room and slamming the door behind her. "mother, you know you don't want me to go with the factory people," she cried. "of course not. what's the matter?" returned mrs. singer briefly, keeping her finger between the leaves of her half-closed book. "why, lucy berry is angry with me, and i don't care. i shall never go with her again!" "dear me, ada. i should think you could settle these little differences without bothering me. what has the factory to do with it?" "why, there is a new girl at school, alma driscoll, and her mother works there; and she tried to come with lucy and me, and lucy would have let her, but i told her you wouldn't like it, and, anyway, of course we didn't want her. so to-day when the valentine box was opened, alma driscoll got a 'comic;' and she couldn't take a joke and cried and went home. i can't bear a cry-baby, anyway. and then miss joslyn made a fuss about it and _she_ went home, and after that lucy berry flared up at me and said she was going to be friends with alma after this, and _she_ went home. it just spoiled everybody's fun to have them act so silly. lucy got frank morse to bring out all his valentines and hers. i'll never go with her again, whether she goes with alma or not!" angry little sparks were shining in ada's eyes, and she evidently made great effort not to cry. "what was this comic valentine that made so much trouble?" "oh, something about a factory girl. you know the verses are always silly on those." "well, it wasn't very nice to send it to her before all the children, i must say. who do you suppose did it?" "no one ever tells who sends valentines," returned ada defiantly. "no one will ever know." "well, if the foolish child, whoever it was, only had known, she wasn't so smart or so unkind as she thought she was. mrs. driscoll isn't an ordinary factory hand. she is an assistant in the bookkeeping department." "well, they must be awfully poor, the way alma looks, anyway," returned ada. "i suppose they are poor. i happened to hear mr. knapp begging your father to let a mrs. driscoll have that position, and your father finally consented. i remember his telling how long the husband had been away trying for work, and what worthy people they were, old friends of his. they lived in some neighboring town; so when mrs. driscoll was offered this position they came here. they live"-- "oh, i know where they live," interrupted ada, "and i knew they were factory people anyway, and you wouldn't want me going with girls like alma." "i'd want you to be kind to her, of course," returned mrs. singer. "then she'd have stuck to us if i had been. i guess you've forgotten the way it is at school." mrs. singer sighed and opened her book wistfully. "you ought to be kind to everybody, ada," she said vaguely, "but i really think i shall have to take you out of the public school. it is such a mixed crowd there. i should have done it long ago, only your father thinks there is no such education." ada saw that in another minute her mother would be buried again in her story. "but what shall i do about frank and lucy?" she asked, half crying. "why, is frank in it, too?" "yes. i know lucy has been talking to him. he came back and got her valentines." "oh, pshaw! don't make a quarrel over it. just be polite to alma driscoll. they're perfectly respectable people. you don't need to avoid her. don't worry. lucy will soon get over her little excitement, and you may be sure she will be glad to make up with you and be more friendly than ever." mrs. singer began to read, and ada saw it was useless to pursue the subject. she left the room undecidedly, her lips pressed together. all right, let lucy befriend alma. she wouldn't _look_ at her, and they'd just see which would get tired of it first. this hard little determination seemed to give ada a good deal of comfort for the present, and she longed for to-morrow, to begin to show lucy berry what she had lost. meanwhile alma driscoll had hastened home to an empty cottage, where she threw herself on the calico-covered bed and gave way again to her hurt and sorrow, until she had cried herself to sleep. there her mother found her when she returned from work. mrs. driscoll had plenty of troubles of her own in these days, adjusting herself to her present situation and trying hard to fill the position which her old friend mr. knapp had found for her. alma knew this, and every evening when her mother came home from the factory she met her cheerfully, and had so far bravely refrained from telling of the trials at school, which were big ones to her, and which she often longed to pour out; but the sight of her mother's face always silenced her. she knew, young as she was, that her mother was finding life in the great school of the world as hard as she was in pretty miss joslyn's room; and so she kept still, but her eyes grew bigger, and her mother saw it. to-day when mrs. driscoll came in, she was surprised to find the house dark. she lighted the lamp and saw alma asleep on the bed. "poor little dear," she thought. "the hours must seem long between school and my coming home." she went around quietly, getting supper, and when it was ready she came again to the bed and kissed alma's cheek. "doesn't my little girl want anything to eat to-night?" she asked. alma turned and opened her eyes. "guess which it is," went on mrs. driscoll, smiling. "breakfast or supper." "oh, have you come?" alma sat up. she clasped her arms around her mother. "please don't make me go to school any more," she said, the big sob with which she went to sleep rising again in her throat. "why, what has happened, dear?" mrs. driscoll grew serious. "i don't want to tell you, mother, only please let me stay at home. i'll study just as hard." "you'd be lonely here all day, alma." "i want to be lonely," returned the little girl earnestly. mrs. driscoll looked very sober. "let's sit down at the table," she said, "for i have your boiled egg all ready." alma took her place opposite her mother. supper was usually the bright spot in the day, but this evening there seemed nothing but clouds. "i want to hear all about it, alma, but you'd better eat first," said mrs. driscoll, as she poured the tea. "it isn't anything very much," replied the little girl, torn between the longing for sympathy and unwillingness to give her mother pain; "only there aren't any lonely children in that school. everybody has some one she likes to play with." a pang of understanding went through the mother's heart, so tender that she forced a smile. "oh, my dearie," she said, "you remind me of the old song,-- 'every lassie has her laddie, nane, they say, have i, but all the lads, they smile on me, when comin' thro' the rye.' if my alma smiles on all the children, they'll all smile on her." alma shook her head. it was too great an undertaking to explain all those daily experiences of longing and disappointment to her mother. the child's throat grew so full of the sob that she could not swallow the nice egg. "this is valentine's day," she said, with an effort. "they had a box in school. everybody got pretty ones but me. they sent me a 'comic.'" she swallowed bravely between the sentences, but big tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed on the gingham apron. "well, wasn't it meant to make you laugh, dearie?" "n-no. it was--was a hateful one. i--i can't tell you." a line came in mrs. driscoll's forehead. her swift thought pictured the scene only too vividly. she swallowed, too. "silly pictures can't hurt us, alma," she said. "but please don't make me go back," returned the child earnestly. "i cried and ran away, and i know all the other children laughed, and, oh, mother, i _can't_ go back!" she was sobbing again, now, and trying to dry her tears with her apron. mrs. driscoll's lips pressed firmly together to keep from quivering. "mother," said alma brokenly, as soon as she could speak again, "when do you think father will come home?" for a minute the mother could not reply. the last letter she had received from her husband had sounded discouraged, and for six weeks now she had heard nothing. her anxiety was very great; but it made her position at the factory more than ever important, while it increased the difficulty of performing her work. "i can't tell, dearie," she answered low. "we must pray and wait." as she finished speaking there came a loud knock at the door. a very unusual sound this, for no one had yet called on them, except mr. knapp, once on business. "i'll go," said mrs. driscoll. "wipe your eyes, alma." to her surprise, when she opened the door no one was there. something white on the step caught her eye in the gloom. it was a box, and when she brought it to the light, she saw that it was addressed to miss alma driscoll. her heart was too sore to hand it to the child until she had made certain that its contents were not designed to hurt. one glimpse of the gold and red interior, however, made her clap on the cover again. she brought the box to the table and seated herself. "what's all this?" she asked, passing it to the child. "it seems to be for you. there was nobody there, but i found that on the step." alma's swollen eyes looked wonderingly at the box as she took off the cover and discovered the elaborate valentine. "my! what a beauty!" exclaimed her mother. the little girl lifted the red roses and looked at the verses. the catches kept coming in her throat and she smiled faintly. "who is this that hasn't any friend?" asked mrs. driscoll cheeringly. "somebody was sorry," returned alma. "i wish they didn't have to be sorry for me." "oh, you can't be sure. when i was a little girl all the best part of valentine's day was running around to the houses with them after dark. how do you know that this wasn't meant for you all day?" "because i remember it. miss joslyn handed it to lucy berry out of the school box. lucy is the prettiest"-- another loud knocking at the door interrupted. mrs. driscoll answered the call. a big white envelope lay on the step, and it was addressed to alma. this time the latter's smile was a little brighter as she took out a handsome card covered with garlands and swinging cupids and inscribed "to my valentine." "well, i never saw any prettier ones," said mrs. driscoll. "but they weren't bought for me," returned alma. when soon again a knocking sounded on the door and a third valentine appeared, blossoming with violets, above which butterflies hovered, mrs. driscoll leaned lovingly toward her little girl. "alma," she said. "i think you were mistaken in saying that _all_ the children laughed when you received that 'comic.' now," in a different tone, "let's have some fun! some child or children are giving you the very best they have. let's catch the next one who comes, and find out who your friends are!" "oh, no," returned alma, smiling, but shrinking shyly from the idea. "yes, indeed. we all used to try when i was little. i'm going to stand by the door and hold it open a bit and you see if i don't catch somebody." alma lifted her shoulders. she wasn't sure that she liked to have her mother try this; but mrs. driscoll went to the door, set it ajar in the dark, and stood beside it. she did not expect there would be any further greetings, and did this rather to amuse alma, who sat examining her three valentines with a tearful little smile; but it was a very short time before another knock sounded on the usually neglected door, and quick as a wink it opened and mrs. driscoll's hand flying out caught another hand. a little scream followed, and in a second she had drawn a young lady into the tiny hall. they couldn't see one another's faces very well in the gloom. "oh, i beg your pardon!" exclaimed mrs. driscoll, very much embarrassed. "i was trying to catch a valentine." "well, you did," laughed the stranger. "there's one on the step now, unless my skirt switched it off when i jumped. i didn't intend to come in this time, though i meant to return after i had done an errand; but now i'm here i'll stay a minute if it isn't too early." "if you'll excuse the table," returned mrs. driscoll "alma and i have a late tea." she stooped at the door and picked up a valentine from the edge of the step, and both women were smiling as they entered the room where alma was standing, flushed and wide-eyed, scarcely able to believe that she recognized the voice. sure enough, as the visitor came into the lamplight, the little girl saw that the valentine her mother had caught and brought in out of the dark was really miss joslyn. she could hardly believe her eyes as she looked at the merry, blushing face which she was wont to see so serious and watchful. all the pretty teacher's scholars admired her, but she had a dignity and strictness which gave them some awe of her, too, and it seemed wonderful to alma that this important person should be standing here and laughing with her mother, right in their own sitting-room. miss joslyn's bright eyes saw signs of tears in her pupil's face, and she also saw the handsome valentines strewn upon the table. "well, well, alma!" she exclaimed softly, "you have quite a show there!" "and here is another," said mrs. driscoll, handing the latest arrival to the little girl. alma smiled gratefully at her teacher as she opened the envelope and took out a dove in full flight, carrying a leaf in its beak. on the leaf was printed in gold letters the word _love_. "i was caught in the act, alma," laughed miss joslyn, "but i guess i am too old and slow to be running about at night with valentines." "i like it the best of all," replied the little girl. "it was bought for me," she added in her own thought, and she was right. twenty minutes ago the white dove had been reposing at a stationer's, with every prospect of remaining there until another valentine's day came around. "please sit down, miss joslyn," said mrs. driscoll. "well, just for a minute," replied the young lady, taking the offered chair, "but i wish you would finish your supper." "we had, really," replied mrs. driscoll, smiling, "or i shouldn't have been playing such a game by the door. you haven't been the giver of all these valentines, i suppose?" "oh, no, indeed. those are from some of the school children, no doubt. i've been trying to find an evening to come here for some time, but my work isn't done when school is out." "i'm sure it isn't," replied mrs. driscoll, while alma sat with her dove in her hands, watching the bright face that looked happy and at home in these unusual surroundings. it seemed so very strange to be close to miss joslyn, like this, where the teacher had no bell to touch and no directions to give. she looked at alma and spoke: "the public school is a little hard for new scholars at first," she said, "where they enter in the middle of a term. you are going to like it better after a while, alma." "i think she will, too," put in mrs. driscoll. "my hours are long at the factory and i have liked to think of alma as safe in school. does she do pretty well in her studies, miss joslyn?" "yes, i have no fault to find." the visitor smiled at alma. "you haven't become much acquainted yet," went on miss joslyn. "i have noticed that you eat your lunch alone. so do i. supposing you and i have it together for a while until you are more at home with the other scholars. i have another chair in my corner, and we'll have a cosy time." alma's heart beat fast. she had never heard that an invitation from royalty is equivalent to a command, but instantly all possibility of staying at home from school disappeared. the picture rose before her thought of miss joslyn as she always appeared at the long recess: her chair swung about until her profile only was visible, the white napkin on her desk, the book in her hand as she read and ate at one and the same time. little did alma suspect what it meant to the kind teacher to give up that precious half-hour of solitude; but miss joslyn saw the child's eyes grow bright at the dazzling prospect, and noted the color that covered even her forehead as she murmured thanks and looked over at her mother for sympathy. the young lady talked on for a few minutes and then said good-night, leaving an atmosphere of brightness behind her. "oh, mother, i don't know what all the children will say," said alma, clasping her hands together. "i'm going to eat lunch with miss joslyn!" "it's fine," responded mrs. driscoll, glad of the change in her little girl's expression, and wishing the ache at her own heart could be as easily comforted. "do you suppose valentine's day is over, dearie, or had i better stand by the door again?" "oh, they wouldn't send me any more!" replied alma, looking fondly at her dove. "i think lucy berry was so kind to give me her lovely things; but i'd like to give them back." "no, indeed, that wouldn't do," replied mrs. driscoll. "i'm going to stand there once more. perhaps i'll catch somebody else to prove to you that lucy isn't the only one thinking about you." mrs. driscoll returned quietly to her post, and alma could see her smiling face through the open door. alma had very much wanted to send valentines to a few children, herself; but five cents was all the spending money she could have, and she had bought with it one valentine which had been addressed to lucy berry in the school box. she was glad it had not come back to her to-night. that would have been hardest of all to bear. just as she was thinking this there did come another knock at the door. the child looked up eagerly, and swiftly again mrs. driscoll's hand flew out, and grasping a garment, pulled gently and firmly. "well, well, ma'am!" exclaimed a bass voice, and this time it was the hostess's turn to give a little cry, followed by a laugh, as a stout, elderly man with chin whiskers came deliberately in. she retreated. "oh, mr. knapp, please excuse me! i thought you were a valentine!" "nobody'd have me, ma'am. nobody'd have me. not a mite o' use to try to stick a pair o' cupid's wings on these shoulders. it would take an awful pair to fly me. well, come now," he added, with a broad, approving smile at the laughing mother and child, "i'm right down glad to see you playin' a game. i've thought, the last few days, you was lookin' kind o' peaked and down in the mouth; so, seein' as we found a letter for you that was somehow overlooked this afternoon, i decided i'd bring it along. might be fetchin' you a fortune, for all i knew." mrs. driscoll's smile vanished, and her eyes looked eagerly into the good-humored red face, as mr. knapp sought deliberately in his coat pocket and brought forth an envelope, at sight of which alma's mother flushed and paled. "you have a valentine, too!" cried the little girl. "yes, it is from father. won't you sit down, mr. knapp?" "no, no, i'll just run along and let you read your letter in peace. i know you want to, and i hope it brings good news. if it don't, you just remember it's always darkest before day. frank driscoll's bound to come out right side up. he's a good feller." so saying, the kind friend to this couple took his departure, and mrs. driscoll's eager fingers tore open the envelope. at the first four words, "it's all right, nettie," she crushed the paper against her happy eyes and then hugged alma. it _was_ all right. mr. driscoll had a position at last, and by the time summer should come he was sure they could be together again. after the letter had been read and re-read, the two washed and put away the supper dishes with light hearts, and the next morning mrs. driscoll went off smiling to the factory, leaving a rather excited little girl to finish the morning work and arrange the lunch in the tin pail which was to be opened beside miss joslyn's desk. there were two other excited children getting ready for school that morning. they had both slept on their troubles, but were very differently prepared to meet the day. ada singer's mental attitude was, "i'll never give in, and lucy berry will find it out." lucy felt comforted, but there remained now the great step of eating lunch with alma and being punished by ada in consequence. her heart fluttered at the thought; but she was going to try not to think of herself at all, but to do right and let the consequences take care of themselves. "there isn't any other way," her mother said to her at parting. "anything which you do in any other spirit has simply to be done over again some time." "not one error-fairy shall cheat me to-day," thought lucy stoutly, and then a disconcerting idea came to her: supposing alma shouldn't come to school at all! but alma was there. ada singer, too, wearing a charming new dress and with a head held up so stiffly that it couldn't turn to look at anybody. frank morse, from his seat at the back of the room, looked curiously from one to another of the three girls and shook his head at his book. at the first recess ada singer spoke to him as he was going out. "wait a minute, frank. it is so mild to-day, mother is coming for me after school with the auto. we're going to take a long spin. wouldn't you like to go?" "yes, indeed," replied frank; "but don't you want to take lucy in my place?" he was a little uncomfortable. "if i did i shouldn't ask you," returned ada coolly. "all right. thank you," said frank, but as he joined the boys on the playground he felt still more uncomfortable. lucy berry, as soon as the recess bell had sounded, had gone straight to alma. her cheeks were very red, and the brown eyes were full of kindness. alma looked up in shy pleasure at her, a little embarrassed because she didn't know whether to thank lucy for the valentines or not. the latter did not give her time to speak. she said: "i came to see if you won't eat your lunch with me to-day." alma colored. how full the world was of kind people! "i'd love to," she answered, "but i think ada wants to have you all alone and"-- "but i'd like it if you would," said lucy firmly, "because i want to get more acquainted. my mother is coming to see yours on sunday afternoon, too." "i'm real glad she is," replied alma, fairly basking in the light from lucy's eyes. "i'd love to eat lunch with you, but miss joslyn invited me to have it with her to-day." "oh!" lucy's gaze grew larger. "why, that's lovely!" she said, in an awed tone. they had very little more time for talk before the short recess was over. as the children took their way to their seats, alma was amazed to see ada singer pass lucy without a word, and even turn her head to avoid looking at her. the child had watched this close friendship so wistfully that she instantly saw there was trouble, and naturally thought of her invitation from lucy as connected with it. at the long recess, thoughts of this possible quarrel mingled with her pleasure in the visit with miss joslyn, who was a charming hostess. many a girl or boy came to peep into the forbidden schoolroom, when the report was circulated that alma driscoll was up on the platform laughing and talking with the teacher and eating lunch with her in the cosy corner. miss joslyn insisted on exchanging a part of her lunch for alma's, spreading the things together on the white napkin, and chatting so eagerly and gayly that the little girl's face beamed. she soon told the teacher about the good news that came after she left the night before, and miss joslyn was very sympathetic. "it's a pretty nice world, isn't it?" she asked, smiling. "yes'm, it's just a lovely world to-day, only--only there's one thing, miss joslyn." "what is it?" "i think lucy berry and ada singer have had a quarrel." "oh, the inseparables? i guess not," the teacher smiled. "yes'm. the worst is, i think it's about me. could i go out in the dressing-room to get my handkerchief, and see if they're on their usual window-sill?" "yes, indeed, if it will make you feel easier." so alma went out and soon returned. lucy and ada were not on their window-sill. each was sitting with a different group of girls. miss joslyn saw the serious discomfort this gave her little companion, and persuaded her away from the subject, returning to the congenial theme of mr. driscoll's new prospects. but as soon as recess was over, alma's thoughts went back to ada singer, for she felt certain that whatever had happened, ada was the one to be appeased. the child could not bear to think of being the cause of trouble coming to dear, kind lucy. when school was dismissed, ada singer, her head carried high, put on her things in the dressing-room within a few feet of lucy, but ignoring her presence. "i love her," thought lucy, "and she does love me. nothing can cheat either of us." ada went out without a look, and waited at the head of the stairs for frank morse. alma driscoll hastened up to her. ada drew away. alma needn't think that because she had shared miss joslyn's luncheon she would now be as good as anybody. "can i speak to you just one minute?" asked the little girl so eagerly, yet meekly, that ada turned to her; but now that she had gained attention, alma did not know how to proceed. she hesitated and clasped and unclasped her hands over the gingham apron. "please--please"--she stammered, "don't be cross with lucy. she felt sorry for me, but i'll never eat lunch with her,--truly." "you don't know what you're talking about," rejoined ada coldly. "yes, she does." it was frank morse's voice, and ada, turning quickly, saw him and lucy standing a few feet behind her. the four children were alone in the deserted hall. "here," went on frank bluntly, "i want you two girls to kiss and make up." ada blushed violently as she met lucy's questioning, wistful look. "are you coming down to the auto, frank?" she asked coolly. "mother will be waiting." "oh, come now, ada, be a good fellow. if you and lucy want to put on the gloves, i'll see fair play; but for pity's sake drop this icy look business. great scott, i'm glad i'm not a girl!" the genuine disgust in the boy's tone as he closed did disturb ada a little, and then lucy added at once, beseechingly: "oh, it's like a bad dream, ada, to have anything the matter between us!" "whose fault is it?" asked ada sharply. "why did you fly at me so yesterday?" both girls had forgotten alma who, like a soberly dressed, big-eyed little bird, was watching the proceedings in much distress. "you just the same as accused me of sending alma the 'comic,'" continued ada. "oh, _didn't_ you send it?" cried lucy, fairly springing at her friend in her relief. "i don't care what you do to me then! i deserve anything, for i really thought you did." her eloquent face and the love in her eyes broke down some determination in ada's proud little heart, and raised another, perhaps quite as proud, but at least with an element of nobility. she foresaw that the dishonesty was going to be more than she could bear. "i did send it," she said suddenly, with her chin up. then, ignoring frank and lucy's open-mouthed stares, she turned toward alma. "i sent you the 'comic,'" she went on. "i thought it would be fun, but it wasn't, and i'm sorry. i should like to have you forgive me." her tone was far from humble, but it was music to alma's ears. the little girl clasped her hands together. "oh, i do," she replied earnestly, "and it made everybody so kind! please don't feel bad about it. i got the loveliest valentines in the evening, and miss joslyn came to see us, and we had a letter from my father and he has a splendid place to work and--and everything!" ada breathed a little faster at the close of this breathless speech. alma's eagerness to ascribe even her father's good fortune to the sending of the 'comic' touched her. in her embarrassment she took another determination. "if you'll excuse me, frank," she said turning to him, "i think i'll take alma home in the auto, instead of you." "all right," returned the boy, his face flushed. "you're a brick, ada!" this praise from one who seldom praised gave ada secret elation, and made her resolve to deserve it. "good-by, lucy," was all she said, but the girls' eyes met, and lucy knew the trouble was over. as ada and alma went downstairs, lucy ran to the hall window, and frank followed. "don't let them see us," she said joyfully. so, very cautiously, the two peeped and saw the handsome automobile waiting. mrs. singer was sitting within and they saw ada say something to her; then alma, her thick coat over the gingham apron, and the large dinner-pail in her hand, climbed in, ada after her, and away they all went. lucy turned to frank with her face glowing. "it's all right now," she said. "when ada takes hold she never lets go; and now she's taken hold right!" chapter xvi a morning ride mrs. evringham's listeners thanked her, then discussed the story a few minutes. "i'd like to get acquainted with alma," said jewel, "and help be kind to her." "oh, she's going to have a very good time now," replied mr. evringham. "one can see that with half an eye. were there any almas where you went to school, jewel?" "no, there weren't. we didn't bring lunches and we went home in a 'bus." "jewel went to a very nice private school," said mrs. evringham. "her teachers were christian scientists and i made their dresses for them in payment." the logs were red in the fireplace now, and the roar of the wind-driven sea came from the beach. "well, we've a good school for her," replied mr. evringham, "and there'll be no dresses to make either." his daughter looked at him wistfully. "i'm very happy when i think of it," she answered, "for there is other work i would rather do." "i should think so, indeed. catering to the whims of a lot of silly women who don't know their own minds! it must be the very--yes, very unpleasant. yes, we have a fine school in bel-air. jewel, we're going to work you hard next winter. how shall you like that?" "my music lessons will be the most fun," returned jewel. "and dancing school beside." "oh, grandpa, i'll love that! i used to know girls who went, in chicago." "yes, i'm sure you will. you shall learn all the latest jigs and flings, too, that any of the children know. i think you ought to learn them quickly. you've been hopping up and down ever since i knew you." jewel exchanged a happy glance with her mother and clapped her hands at the joyful prospect. mrs. evringham looked wistfully at her father-in-law. "i hope you'll be willing i should do the work i want to, father." "what's that? writing books? perfectly willing, i assure you. i think you've made a very good start." mrs. evringham smiled. "no, not writing books. practicing christian science." "well, you do that all the time, don't you?" "i mean taking patients." "what!" mr. evringham straightened up in his chair and frowned at her incredulously. "anybody? tom, dick, and harry? you can't mean it!" his tone was so severe that jewel rose from her place on the rug and, climbing into his lap, rested her head on his breast. his hand closed on the soft little one unconsciously. "i suppose i don't understand you," he added, a shade more mildly. "not in your house, father," returned julia. she had been preparing in thought for this moment for days. "of course it wouldn't do to have strangers coming and going there." "nonsense, nonsense, my dear girl," brusquely, "put it out of your head at once. there is no need for you to do anything after this but bring up your child and keep your husband's shirt buttons in place." "i won't neglect either," replied julia quietly; "but mr. reeves says there is great need of practitioners in bel-air. you know where the reading-room is? there is a little room leading out of it that i could have." "for an office, do you mean? nonsense," exclaimed mr. evringham again. "harry wouldn't think of allowing it." julia smiled. "will you if he does?" "what shall i say to her, jewel?" the broker looked down into the serious face. "i suppose mother ought to do it," replied the child. "of course every one who knows how and has time wants to. you can see that, grandpa, because isn't your rheumatism better?" "yes. i like our resident physician very much; but we need her ourselves. i don't think i shall ever give my consent to such a thing." "oh, yes, you will, grandpa, if it's right." the flaxen head on his breast wagged wisely. "some morning you'll come downstairs and say: 'julia, i think you can go and get that office whenever you like.'" mrs. evringham pressed her handkerchief to her lips. the couple in the armchair were so absorbed in one another that they did not observe her, and the broker's face showed such surprise. "upon my word!" he exclaimed, after a minute. "upon my word!" "are you all through talking about that?" asked jewel, after a pause. "i am, certainly," replied mr. evringham. "and i," added his daughter. she was content that the seed was planted, and preferred not to press the subject. "well, then," continued jewel, "i was wondering, grandpa, if the cracks in that boat couldn't be stuffed up a little more so i wouldn't have to bail, and then i could learn how to row." "ho, these little hands row!" returned mr. evringham scoffingly. "why, i could, grandpa. i just know i could. it was fun to bail at first, but i'm getting a little tired of it now, and i love to be on the pond--oh, almost as much as on star!" mr. evringham's eyes shone with an unusually pleased expression. "is it possible!" he returned. "it's a water-baby we have here, a regular water-baby!" "yes, grandpa, when i know how to swim and row and sail--yes," chuckling at the expression of exaggerated surprise which her listener assumed, "and sail, too, i'll be so _happy_!" "oh, come now, an eight-year-old baby!" "i'll be nine in five weeks, nine years old." "well," mr. evringham sighed, "that's better than nineteen." "why, grandpa," earnestly, "you forget; perhaps you'll like me when i'm grown up." "it's possible," returned the broker. how the sun shone the next morning! the foam on the great rollers that still stormed the beach showed from the farmhouse windows in ever-changing, spreading masses of white. essex maid and star, after a day of ennui, were more than ready for a scamper between the rolling fields where already the goldenrod hinted that summer was passing. star had to stretch his pretty legs at a great rate, to keep up with the maid this morning, though her master moderated her transports. the more like birds they flew, the more jewel enjoyed it. she knew now how to get star's best speed, and the pony scarcely felt her weight, so lightly did she adapt herself to his every motion. with cheeks tingling in the fine salt air, the riders finally came to a walk in the quiet country road. "i've been looking up that boat business, jewel," said mr. evringham. "the thing is hardly worth fixing. it would take a good while, just at the time we want the boat, too." "well, then," returned the child, "we'll have to make it do. there are so many happinesses here, it isn't any matter if the boat isn't just right; but i was thinking, grandpa, if you wouldn't wear such nice shoes, i'd go barefooted, and then we could both sit on the same seat and let the water come in, while i use one oar and you the other; or"--her face suddenly glowing with a brilliant idea--"we could both wear our bathing-suits!" "yes," returned the broker, "i think if you were to row we might need them." the child laughed. "no, jewel, no; we'd better bathe when we bathe, and row when we row, and not mix them. you couldn't do anything with even one of those clumsy oars in that tub of a boat." as mr. evringham said this, he saw the disappointment in the little girl's face as she looked straight ahead, and noted, too, her effort to conquer it. "well, i do have so many happinesses," she replied. "it will be a grand sight at the beach this morning, with the sunlight on the stormy waves," said mr. evringham. "the water-baby will have to keep out of them, though." jewel lifted her shoulders and looked at him. "then we ought to row over, don't you think so?" "you're not willing to be a thorough-going land lubber, are you?" returned the broker. "no," jewel sighed. "i'd rather bail than keep off the pond. oh, but i forgot," with a sudden thought, "mother'd get wet if she rowed over and it would be too bad to make her walk through the fields alone." there was a little silence and then mr. evringham turned the horses into the homeward way. "i begin to feel as if breakfast would be acceptable, jewel. how is it with you?" "why, i could eat"--began the child hungrily, "i could eat"-- "eggs?" suggested the broker, as she paused to think of something sufficiently inedible. "almost," returned the child seriously. another pause, and then she continued. "grandpa, wouldn't it be nice if mother had somebody to play with, too, so we could go out in the boat whenever we wanted to?" "yes. why doesn't your father hurry up his affairs?" jewel looked at the broker. "he has. he thought it was error for him not to let the people there know that he was going to leave them after a while; so they began right off to try to find somebody else, and they have already." "eh?" asked the broker. "your father is through in chicago, then? when did you hear that?" "mother had the letter yesterday and she told me when i went to bed last night." "why, then he'll be coming right on." "we'd like to have him," returned jewel; "but mother wasn't sure how you would feel about it, to have father here so long before business commences." "why didn't she tell me last evening?" asked mr. evringham. "i _think_," returned jewel, "that she wanted father so _much_--and--and that she thought perhaps you wouldn't think it was best, and--well, i think she felt a little bashful. you know mother isn't your real relation, grandpa," the child's head fell to one side apologetically. mr. evringham stroked his mustache; but instantly he turned grave again. his eyes met jewel's. "i think, as you say, it would be rather a convenience to us if your mother had some one to play with, too. suppose we send for him, eh?" "oh, let's," cried the child joyfully. "done with you!" returned the broker, and he gave the rein to essex maid. star had suddenly so much ado to gallop along beside her, that jewel's laugh rang out merrily. when, a little later, the family met in the dining-room for breakfast, mr. evringham accosted his daughter cheerfully: "well, this is good news i hear about harry." julia flushed and met his eyes wistfully. the broker had never seen any resemblance in jewel to her until this moment; but it was precisely the child's expression that now returned his look. "it's my boy she wants, too," he thought. "by george, she shall have him." "i wasn't sure that you would think it was good news for harry to give up his position so soon, but there wasn't any other honest way," she replied. "the sooner the break is made, the better," returned mr. evringham. "i shall wire him to close up everything at once and join us as soon as he can." mother and child exchanged a happy look and jewel clapped her hands. "father's coming, father's coming!" she cried joyfully. the broker bent his brows upon her. "jewel, are you strictly honorable?" he asked. "i don't know," returned the little girl. "you said a few minutes ago that it was a playfellow for your mother that you wanted. your enthusiasm is unseemly." "oh, father's just splendid," said jewel. after breakfast the three repaired to a certain covered piazza where they always read the lesson for the day; then mr. evringham suggested that they go promptly to the beach to see the splendid show before the rollers regained their usual monotonous dignity. "jewel and i thought we would go over in the boat instead of through the fields, but that old tub is rather uninviting for a lady's clothes." "i think i will take the solitary saunter in preference," returned mrs. evringham. "you and jewel row over if you like." "no, we'd rather walk with you," said the child heroically. julia smiled. "i don't want you. there are birds and flowers." "well, come down and see us off, anyway," said mr. evringham; so the three moved over the grass toward the pond; two walking sedately and one skipping from sheer high spirits. as they drew near the little wharf the child's quick eyes perceived that there were two boats floating there, one each side of it. "see that, grandpa! there's some visitor around here," she said, running ahead of the others. a light, graceful boat rose and fell on the waves. it was golden brown within and without, and highly varnished. its four seats were furnished with wine-colored cushions. four slim oars lay along its bottom, and its rowlocks gleamed. best of all, a slender mast with snowy sail furled about it lay along the edge. "grandpa, p-_lease_ ask somebody whose it is and if we could get in just a minute!" begged jewel, in hushed excitement. "oh, they're all good neighbors about here. they won't mind, whoever it is," returned mr. evringham carelessly, and to the child's wonder and doubt he jumped aboard. "pretty neat outfit, isn't it?" he continued, as he stood a moment looking over the lines of the craft, and then lifted the mast. "oh, it'll sail, too, it'll sail, too!" cried jewel, hopping up and down. "oh, mother, did you ever _hear_ of such a pretty boat?" "never," replied mrs. evringham. "it must be that some one has come over from one of those fine homes across the pond." privately, she was a little surprised by the manner in which mr. evringham was making himself at home. he set the mast in its place and then, his arms akimbo, stood regarding jewel's tense, sun-browned countenance and sparkling eyes. "how would it be for me to go up to the house and see if we could get permission to take a little sail?" he asked. "oh, it would be splendid, grandpa," responded jewel, "but--but he might say no, and _could_ i get in just a minute first?" "yes, come on." the child waited for no second invitation, but sprang into the boat and examined its dry, shining floor and felt its buttoned cushions with admiring awe. "hello, see here," said mr. evringham, bending over the further side. "easy, now," for jewel had scrambled to see. he trimmed the boat while her flaxen head leaned eagerly over. beautifully painted in shining black letters she read the name jewel. the child lifted her head quickly and gazed at him, "grandpa, that almost couldn't--_happen_" she said, in amazement, catching her breath. he nodded. "there's one thing pretty certain, nature won't draw off the pond now that this has come to you." "me, _me_!" cried the child. her lips trembled and she turned a little pale under the tan as she remembered how the pony came. then her eyes, dark with excitement, suffused, and recklessly she flung herself upon the broker's neck while the boat rocked wildly. mr. evringham waved one hand toward his daughter while he seized the mast. "tell harry we left our love," he cried. "dear me, jewel, what are you _doing_!" called mrs. evringham. "it's mine, mother, it's mine," cried the child, lifting her head to shout it, and then ducking back into the broker's silk shirt front. "what do you mean?" asked mrs. evringham, coming gingerly out upon the wharf, which was such an unsteady old affair that she had remained on terra firma. "why, you see," responded mr. evringham, "the farmhouse boat wasn't so impossible for two old sea-dogs like jewel and me, but when it came to inviting her lady mother to go out with us, i saw that we must have something else. well, it seems as if jewel approved of this." he winked at his daughter over the flaxen head on his breast. "what a fortunate, fortunate girl!" exclaimed julia. "i can hardly wait to sit on one of those beautiful red cushions." "jewel will invite you pretty soon, i think," said mr. evringham. "i hope so, for one of my feet is turned in and she is standing on it, but i wouldn't have her get off until she is entirely ready." he could feel the child swallowing hard, and though she moved her little feet, she could not lift her face. "grandpa," she began, in an unsteady, muffled tone, "i didn't tease you too much about the old boat, did i?" "no,--no, child!" "shall you--shall you like this one, too?" "well, i should rather think so. i have to give all my shoes to the poor as it is. i've nothing left fit to put on but my riding-boots. how shall we go over to the beach this time, jewel, row or sail? your mother is waiting for you to ask her to get in." slowly the big bows behind the child's ears came down into their normal position. she kissed her grandfather fervently and then turned her flushed face and eyes toward her mother. "come in, so you can see the boat's name," she said, and her smile shone out like sunshine from an april sky. "give me your hand, then, dearie. you know i'm a poor city girl and haven't a very good balance." the name was duly examined, and mrs. evringham's "oh's" of wonder and admiration were long-drawn. "see the darling cushions, mother. you can wear your best clothes here. it's just like a parlor!" "a very narrow parlor, jewel. move carefully." mrs. evringham had seated herself in the stern. "perhaps i can help with the rudder," she added, taking hold of the lines. "just as the admiral says," returned the broker. "oh, grandpa, you'll have to be the admiral," said jewel excitedly. "i'll be the crew and"-- "and the owner," suggested mr. evringham. "yes! oh, mother, what _will_ father say!" "he'll say that you are a very happy, fortunate little girl, and that divine love is always showing your grandpa how to do kind things for you." the child's expression as she looked up at the admiral made him apprehend another rush. "steady, jewel, steady. remember we aren't wearing our bathing-suits. which are we going to do, row or sail?" "oh, _sail_," cried the child, "and it'll never be the first time again! _could_ you wait while i get anna belle?" "certainly." like a flash jewel sprang from the boat and fled up the wharf and lawn. mr. evringham smiled and shook his head at his daughter. "a creature of fire and dew," he said. "i don't know how to thank you for all your goodness to her," said julia simply. "it would offend me to be thanked for anything i did for jewel," he returned. "i understand. she is your own flesh and blood. but what i feel chiefly grateful for is the wisdom of your kindness. i believe you will never spoil her. i should rather we had remained poor and struggling than to have that." mr. evringham gave the speaker a direct look in which appeared a trace of humor. "i think i am slightly inclined," he returned, "to overlook the fact that you and harry have any rights in jewel which should be respected; but theoretically i do acknowledge them, and it is going to be my study not to spoil her. i have an idea that we couldn't," he added. "oh, yes, we could," returned julia, "very easily." "well, there aren't quite enough of us to try," said the broker. "i believe while we're waiting for jewel, i'll just step up to the house and get some one to send that telegram to harry." "oh, yes!" exclaimed julia eagerly; and in a minute she was left alone, swaying up and down on the lapping water, in the salt, sunny breeze, while the jewel pulled at the mooring as if eager to try its snowy wings; and happy were the grateful, prayerful thoughts that swelled her heart. chapter xvii the birthday one stormy evening harry evringham blew into the farmhouse, wet from his drive from the station, and was severally hugged, kissed, and shaken by the three who waited eagerly to receive him. the month that ensued was perhaps the happiest that had ever come into the lives of either of the quartette; certainly it was the happiest period to the married pair who had waited ten years for their wedding trip. the days were filled with rowing, sailing, swimming, riding, driving, picnics, walks, talks, and _dolce far niente_ evenings, when the wind was still and the moon silvered field and sea. the happy hours were winged, the goldenrod strewed the land with sunshine, and august slipped away. one morning when jewel awoke it was with a sensation that the day was important. she looked over at anna belle and shook her gently. "wake up, dearie," she said. "'green pastures are before me,' it's my birthday." but anna belle, who certainly looked very pretty in her sleep, and perhaps suspected it, seemed unable to overcome her drowsiness until jewel set her up against the pillow, when her eyes at once flew open and she appeared ready for sociability. "do you remember gladys on her birthday morning, dearie? she couldn't think of anything she wanted, and i'm almost like her. grandpa's given me my boat, that's his birthday present; and mother says she should think it was enough for ten birthdays, and so should i. poor grandpa! in ten birthdays i'll be nineteen, and then he says i'll have to cry on his shoulder instead of into his vest. but grandpa's such a joker! of course grown-up ladies hardly ever cry. if father and mother have anything for me, i'll be just delighted; but i can't think what i want. i have the darlingest pony in the world, and the dearest little faithful watch, and the best boat that was ever built, and i rowed father quite a long way yesterday all alone, and i didn't splash much, but he caught hold of the side of the boat and pretended he was afraid"--jewel's laughter gurgled forth at the remembrance--"he's such a joker; and i do understand the sail, too, but they won't let me do it alone yet. father says he can see in my eye that i should love to jibe. i don't even know what jibe is, so how could i do it?" jewel had proceeded so far in her confidences when the door of her room opened, and her father and mother came in in their bath-wrappers. "we thought we heard you improving anna belle's mind," said her father, taking her in his arms and kissing both her cheeks and chin, the tip of her nose and her forehead, and then carefully repeating the programme. "but that was ten!" cried jewel. "certainly. if you didn't have one to grow on, how would you get along?" then her pretty mother, her brown hair hanging in long braids, took her turn and kissed jewel's cheeks till they were pinker than ever. "many, many happy returns, my little darling," she said. "i didn't know you weren't going riding this morning." "yes, grandpa said he expected a man early on business, and he had to be here to see him. father could have gone with me," said jewel, looking at him reproachfully, where he sat on the side of the bed, "but when i asked him last night he said--i forget what he said." "merely that i didn't believe that horses liked such early dew." "oh, jewel!" laughed mrs. evringham, "your father is a lazy, sleepy boy. it's later than you think, dearie. hop up now and get ready for breakfast." they left her, and the little girl arose with great alacrity, for ever since she was a baby her birthday present had always been on the breakfast table. as soon as she was dressed, she put a blue cashmere wrapper on anna belle and carried her downstairs to the room where the evringham family had their meals, separate from the other inmates of the farmhouse. mr. evringham was standing by the window, reading the newspaper as he waited, and jewel ran to him and looked up with bright expectation. "h'm!" he said, not lifting his eyes from the print, "good-morning, jewel. essex maid and star would hardly speak to me when i was out there just now, they're so vexed at having to stay indoors this morning." the child did not reply, but continued to look up, smiling. "well," said the broker at last, dropping the paper. "well? what is it? i don't see anything very exciting. you haven't on your silk dress." "grandpa! it's my _birthday_." the broker slapped his leg with very apparent annoyance. "well, now, to think i should have to be told that!" jewel laughed and hopped a little as she looked toward the table. "do you see that bunch under the cloth at my place? that's my present. isn't it the most _fun_ not to know what it is?" mr. evringham took her up in his arms and weighed her up and down thoughtfully. "yes," he said, "i believe you are a little heavier than you were yesterday." the child laughed again. "now remember, jewel, you're to go slow on this birthday business. once in two or three years is all very well." "grandpa! people _have_ to have birthdays every year," she replied as he set her down, "but after they're about twenty or something like that, it's wrong to remember how old they are." "indeed?" the broker stroked his mustache. "ladies especially, i suppose." "oh, no," returned jewel seriously. "everybody. mother's just twenty years older than i am and that's so easy to remember, it's going to be hard to forget; but i've most forgotten how much older father is," and jewel looked up with an expression of determination that caused the broker to smile broadly. "i can understand your mother's being too self-respecting to pass thirty," he returned, "but just why your father shouldn't, i fail to understand." "why, it's error to be weak and wear spectacles and have things, isn't it?" asked jewel, with such swift earnestness that mr. evringham endeavored to compose his countenance. "have things?" he repeated. jewel's head fell to one side. "why, even you, grandpa," she said lovingly, "even you thought you had the rheumatism." "i was certainly under that impression." "but you never would have expected to have it when you were as young as father, would you?" "hardly." "well, then you see why it's wrong to make laws about growing old and to remember people's ages." "ah, i see what you mean. everybody thinking the wrong way and jumping on a fellow when he's down, as it were." at this moment jewel's father and mother entered the room, and she instantly forgot every other consideration in her interest as to what charming surprise might be bunched up under the tablecloth. "anna belle can hardly wait to see my present," she said, lifting her shoulders and smiling at her mother. "she ought to know one thing that's there, certainly," replied mrs. evringham mysteriously. jewel held the doll up in front of her. "have you given me something, dearie?" she asked tenderly. "i do hope you haven't been extravagant." then with an abrupt change of manner, she hopped up into her chair eagerly, and the others took their places. the very first package that jewel took out was marked--"with anna belle's love." it proved to be a pair of handsome white hair-ribbons, and the donor looked modestly away as jewel expressed her pleasure and kissed her blushing cheeks. next came a box marked with her father's name. upon opening it there was discovered a set of ermine furs for anna belle,--at least they were very white furs with very black tiny tails: collar and muff of a regal splendor, and any one who declined to call them ermine would prove himself a cold skeptic. jewel jounced up and down in her chair with delight. "winter's coming, you know, jewel, and bel-air park is a very swell place," said her father. "and perhaps i'll have a sled at christmas and draw anna belle on it," said the child joyously. "here, dearie, let's see how they fit," and on went the furs over the blue cashmere wrapper, making anna belle such a thing of beauty that jewel gazed at her entranced. the doll was left with her chubby hands in the ample muff and the sumptuous collar half eclipsing her golden curls, while the little girl dived under the cloth once more for the largest package of all. this was marked with her mother's love and contained handsome plaid material for a dress, with the silk to trim it, and a pair of kid gloves. jewel hopped down from her chair and kissed first her father and then her mother. "that'll be the loveliest dress!" she said, and she carried it to her grandfather to let him look closer and put his hand upon it. "well, well, you are having a nice birthday, jewel," he said. "yes," she replied, putting her arm around his neck and pressing her cheek to his. "we couldn't put the boat under the tablecloth, but i'm thinking about it, grandpa." after breakfast they all went out to the covered piazza to read the lesson. it was a fine, still morning. the pond rippled dreamily. the roar of the surf was subdued. from jewel's seat beside her grandfather she could see her namesake glinting in the sun and gracefully rising and falling on the waves in the gentle breeze. they had all taken comfortable positions and mrs. evringham was finding the places in the books. mr. evringham spoke quite loudly: "well, this is a fine morning, surely, fine." "it is that," agreed harry, stretching his long legs luxuriously. "if i felt any better i couldn't stand it." as he was speaking, a strange man in a checked suit came around the corner of the house. jewel's eyes grew larger and she straightened up. "oh, grandpa, look!" she said softly, and then jumped off the seat to see better. all the little company gazed with interest, for, accompanying the man, was the most superb specimen of a collie dog that they had ever seen. "it's a golden dog, grandpa," added jewel. the collie had evidently just been washed and brushed. his coat was, indeed, of a gleaming yellow. his paws were white, the tip of his tail was white, and his breast was snowy as the thick, soft foam of the breakers. a narrow strip of white descended between his eyes,--golden, intelligent eyes, with generations of trustworthiness in them. a silver collar nestled in the long hair about his neck, and altogether he looked like a prince among dogs. jewel clasped her hands beneath her chin and gazed at him with all her eyes. he was too splendid to be flown at in her usual manner with animals. "what a beauty!" ejaculated harry. "it _is_ a golden dog," said jewel's mother, looking almost as enthusiastic as the child. "what have you there?" asked mr. evringham of the man. "something pretty fine, it appears to me." "yes, sir, there's none finer," replied the man, glancing at the animal. "i called to see you on that little matter i wrote you of." "yes, yes; well, that will wait. we're interested in that fine collie of yours. we know something about golden dogs here, eh, jewel?" "but this dog couldn't dance, grandpa," said the child soberly, drawing nearer to the creature. "i should think not," remarked the man, smiling. "what would he be doing dancing? i've seen lions jump the rope in shows; but it never looked fitting, to me." "no," said jewel, "this dog ought not to dance;" and as the collie's golden eyes met hers, she drew nearer still in fascination, and he touched her outstretched hand curiously, with his cold nose. "oh, well, but we like accomplished dogs," said mr. evringham coldly. "who says this dog ain't accomplished?" returned the man, in an injured tone. "just stand back there a bit, young lady." jewel retreated and her grandfather put his hand over her shoulder. the man spoke to the dog, and at once the handsome creature sat up, tall and dignified, on his hind legs. the man only kept him there a few seconds; and then he put him through a variety of other performances. the golden dog shook hands when he was told, rolled over, jumped over a stick, and at last sat up again, and when the man took a bit of sugar from his pocket and balanced it on the creature's nose, he tossed it in the air, and, catching it neatly, swallowed it in a trice. jewel was giving subdued squeals of delight, and everybody was laughing with pleasure; for the decorative creature appeared to enjoy his own tricks. the man looked proudly around upon the company. "well," said mr. evringham to jewel, "he is a dog of high degree, like gabriel's, isn't he? but he's such a big fellow i think the organ-grinder wouldn't have such an easy time with _him_." at the broker's voice, the dog walked up to him and wagged his feathery tail. jewel's eager hands went out to touch him, but mr. evringham held her back. "he's a friendly fellow," he went on; then continued to the man, "would you like to sell him?" the question set the little girl's heart to beating fast. "i would, first rate," replied the man, grinning, "but the trouble is i've sold him once. i'm taking him to his owner now." "that's a handsome collar you have on him." "oh, yes, it's a good one all right," returned the man. "the dog is for a surprise present. the lady i'm taking him to is going to know him by his name." "let's have a look at it, jewel," said mr. evringham, and he took hold of the silver collar, a familiarity which seemed rather to please the golden dog, who began wagging his tail again, as he looked at mr. evringham trustingly. jewel bent over eagerly. a single name was engraved clearly on the smooth plate. "topaz!" she cried. "his name is topaz! grandpa, mother, the golden dog's name is topaz!" mrs. evringham held up both hands in amazement, while harry frowned incredulously. "did you ever hear of anything so wonderful, grandpa? how _can_ the lady know him by his name so well as we do?" the child was quite breathless. "what? do _you_ know the name?" asked the man. "supposing i'd hit on the right place already. just take a look under his throat. the owner's name is there." jewel fell on her knees, and while mr. evringham kept his hand on the dog's muzzle, she pushed aside the silky white fur. "evringham. bel-air park, new jersey," was what she read, engraved on the silver. she sat still for a minute, overcome, while a procession of ideas crowded after each other through the flaxen head. it was her birthday; grandpa couldn't get the boat under the tablecloth. this beautiful dog--this impossibly beautiful dog, was a surprise present. he was for her, to love and to play with; to see his tricks every day, to teach him to know her and to run to her when she called. if she was given the choice of the whole world on this sweet birthday morning, it seemed to her nothing could be so desirable as this live creature, this playmate, this prince among dogs. when she looked up the man in the checked suit had disappeared. she glanced at her father and mother. they were watching her smilingly and she understood that they had known. she looked around a little further and saw mr. evringham seated, his hand on the collie's neck, while the wagging, feathery tail expressed great contentment in the touch of a good friend. at the time the story of the golden dog had so captivated jewel's imagination, the broker began his search for one in real life. he had already been thinking that a dog would be a good companion for the fearless child's solitary hours in the woods. as soon as the collie was found, he directed that all the ordinary tricks should be taught it, and every day until he left new york he visited the creature, who remembered him so well that on the collie's arrival late last evening, he had feared its joyous barking out at the barn would waken jewel. she rose to her knees now, and, putting her arms around the dog's neck, pressed her radiant face against him. topaz pulled back, but mr. evringham patted him, and in an instant he was freed; for his little mistress jumped up and, climbing into her grandfather's lap, rested her head against his breast. "grandpa," she said, slowly and fervently, "i wonder if you do know how much i love you!" mr. evringham patted the collie's head, then took jewel's hand and placed it with his own on the sleek forehead. the golden eyes met his attentively. "you're to take care of her, topaz. do you understand?" he asked. the feathery tail waved harder. jewel gazed at the dog. "if anything could be too good to be true, he'd be it," she said slowly. mr. evringham's pleasure showed in his usually impassive face. "well, isn't it a good thing then that nothing is?" he replied, and he kissed her. chapter xviii true delight when evening came and put a period to that memorable birthday, topaz was a dog of experiences. if he was a happy discovery to jewel, she was none the less one to him. he was delighted to romp in the fields, where his coat vied with the goldenrod; or to scamper up and down the beach, barking excitedly, while his friends jumped or swam through the cool waves. jewel was eager that her horse and dog should become acquainted; so, when late in the afternoon essex maid and star were brought out at the customary hour, saddled and bridled, she performed an elaborate introduction between the jet-black picture pony and the prince among dogs. star arched his neck and shook his wavy mane as he gazed down at the golden dog with his full bright eyes. he had seen topaz before; for the collie had spent the night in the barn, making sunshine in a shady place as he romped about the man in the checked suit. "oh, grandpa!" laughed jewel, as star pawed the ground, "he looks at topaz just the way essex maid used to look at him when he first came. just as _scornful_!" she knelt down on the grass by the pony, in her riding skirt, and topaz instantly came near, hopefully. he had already learned that by sticking to her closely he was liable to have good sport; but this time business awaited him. mr. evringham watched the pony and dog, with the flaxen-haired child between them, and wished he had a kodak. "now, star and topaz, you're going to love one another," said jewel impressively. "shake hands, topaz." she held out her hand and the dog sat down and offered a white paw. "good fellow," said the child. "now i guess you're going to be surprised," she added, looking into his yellow eyes. she turned toward the pony, who was nosing her shoulder, not at all sure that he liked this rival. "shake hands, star," she ordered. it took the pony some time to make up his mind to do this. it usually did. he shook his mane and tossed his head; but jewel kept patting his slender leg and offering her hand, until, with much gentle pawing and lifting his little hoof higher and higher, he finally rested it in the child's hand, although looking away meanwhile, in mute protest. "good star! darling star!" she exclaimed, jumping up and hugging him. "there, topaz, what do you think of that?" she asked triumphantly. for answer the golden dog yawned profoundly, and mr. evringham and jewel laughed together. "such impoliteness!" cried the child. "you must excuse him if he is a little conceited," said the broker. "he knows star can't sit up and roll over and jump sticks." "oh, grandpa." jewel's face sobered, for this revived a little difference of opinion between them. "when are you going to let me jump fences?" "in a few more birthdays, jewel, a few more," he replied. she turned back to her pets. "i suppose," she said musingly, "it wouldn't be the least use to try to make them shake hands with each other." "i suppose not," returned the broker, and his shoulders shook. "oh, jewel, you certainly will make me lose my waist. here now, time is flying. mount." he lowered his hand, jewel stepped on it and was in her white saddle instantly. the collie barked with loud inquiry and plunged hopefully. in a minute the horses were off at a good pace. "come, topaz!" cried the child, and the golden dog scampered after them with a will. harry and julia took a sail in the "jewel" while the riders were away, otherwise the four had spent the entire day together; and after dinner they all strolled out of doors to watch the coming of twilight. jewel and her father began a romp on the grass with the dog, and mr. evringham and julia took seats on the piazza. the broker watched the group on the lawn in silence for a minute, and then he spoke. "i was very much impressed by the talk we had last evening, julia; more so even than by those that have gone before. harry really seems very intelligent on this subject of christian science." "he is making a conscientious study of it," returned julia. "you have met my questions and objections remarkably well," went on mr. evringham. "i am willing and glad to admit truth where i once was skeptical, and i hope to understand much more. one thing i must say, however, i do object to--it is this worship of mrs. eddy. i know you don't call it that, but what does it matter what you call it, when you all give her slavish obedience? i should like to take the truth she has presented and make it more impersonal than you do. what is the need of thinking about her at all?" julia smiled. "well, ordinary gratitude might come in there. most of us feel that she has led us to the living christ, and helped us to all we have attained of health and happiness; but one very general mistake that error makes use of to blind people is that mrs. eddy exacts this gratitude. how willing everybody is to admit that actions speak louder than words; and yet who of our opposers ever stop to think how mrs. eddy's retired, hard-working life proves the falsity of the charges brought against her. she does wish for our love and gratitude; but it is for our sakes, not hers. think of any of the great teachers from st. paul down to the present day. who could benefit by the truth voiced by any of them, while he nursed either contempt or criticism of the personality of the teacher?" "yes," returned mr. evringham, "there is strength in that consideration; but this blind following of any suggestion your leader makes looks to me too much like giving up your own rationality." julia regarded him seriously. "supposing you were one of a party who had, for long years, searched in vain for gold. you had tried mine after mine only to find you had not the ability to discriminate between the priceless and the worthless ore, or to discern the signs of promise that lead to rich discovery. now, supposing another prospector had proved, over and over again, that he did know the places where treasure was to be found. supposing he had demonstrated, over and over again, that his judgment and discernment never led him astray, and that reward followed his labor unfailingly. now, what if this wise prospector was willing to help you? supposing he stated that in certain places, and by certain ways, you could attain that for which you longed and had striven vainly. when his advice or directions came to you, from time to time, do you think you would be likely to stop to haggle or argue over them? no; i think you would hasten to follow his suggestions, as eagerly and as closely as you were able, and with a warmly grateful heart. would that prospector be forcing you? or doing you a kindness? what are the fruits of christian science? what are the results of the directions of this wise, loving leader who can come so close to god that he teaches her to help us to come, too. oh, father, this obstacle, this foolish argument, meets nearly every one in the path you are treading, and tries to turn him back. i do hope, for your sake, you will decline to give that very flabby error-fairy a backbone, or let it detain you longer. it is marvelous how, without one element of truth or reason, it seems able to hold back so many, and waste their precious time." mr. evringham was regarding the speaker with close attention. "you are a good special pleader," he said, when she paused. "it is easy to speak the truth," she answered. he nodded thoughtfully. "you have given me a new light on the situation. i see it now from an entirely new standpoint." here the trio on the lawn came running up the steps, father and child laughing and panting as hard as topaz, whose tongue and teeth were all in evidence in the gayety of his grin. harry threw himself into the hammock, and jewel sat on the floor beside topaz, who gazed at her from his wistful eyes, his head on the side. harry laughed. "jewel, he looks at you as if he were saying, 'really, now, you are a person after my own heart.'" "she is after his heart, too," said jewel's mother, "and i'm sure she'll win it." "he likes me already," declared the child. "don't you, topaz?" she asked tenderly, laying her flaxen head with its big bows against the gold of his coat. "oh, there ought to be one more story in my book," she added, "one for us to read right now and finish up my birthday." "why not have 'the golden dog' again?" suggested mr. evringham, from the comfortable big wicker chair in which he sat watching jewel and topaz. "that would be appropriate." "oh, yes," cried the little girl, looking at her mother. "oh, no," returned julia, smiling. "there ought to be a special fresh story for a birthday. we might make one now." "a new one, mother?" asked jewel, much pleased. "could you?" "no indeed, not alone; but if everybody helped"-- "oh, yes," cried jewel, with more enthusiasm than before. "grandpa begin because he's the oldest, then father, then mother, then--well, me, if i can think of anything." "it's very wrong of you, jewel," said the broker, "to remember that i'm the oldest, under these circumstances. what did you tell me this morning?" the child's head fell to the side and she leaned toward him. "i don't know how old you are," she replied gently; "and it doesn't make any difference." "then let's begin with the youngest," he suggested. "no," said his daughter, "i think jewel's plan is the best. you begin, father." she did not in the least expect that he would consent, but jewel, her hands resting on topaz's collar, was looking at the broker lovingly. "grandpa can do just anything," she declared. mr. evringham regarded her musingly. "i know only one story," he said at last, "and not very far into that one." "you don't have to know far," returned julia encouragingly, "for harry has to begin whenever you say so." "indeed!" put in her husband. "i pity you if you have to listen to me." "it's my birthday, you know, grandpa," urged jewel. "so i've understood," returned the broker. "well, just wait a minute till i hitch up pegasus." "great scott!" exclaimed his son. "you aren't in earnest, julia? you don't expect me to do anything like that right off the bat!" "certainly, i do," she replied, laughing. "oh, see here, i have an engagement. we're one, you know, and when it comes to authorship, you're the one." "hush," returned julia, "you're disturbing father's muse." but mr. evringham's ideas, whatever they were, seemed to be at hand. he settled back in his chair, his elbows on the arms and his finger-tips touching. all his audience immediately gave attention. even anna belle had a chair all to herself and fixed an inspiring gaze on the broker. it was to be hoped that her pride kept her cool, for, in spite of the quiet warmth of the september evening, she was enveloped in her new furs, with her hands tucked luxuriously in the large muff. "once upon a time," began mr. evringham, "there was an old man. no one had ever told him that it was error to grow old and infirm, and he sometimes felt about ninety, although he was rather younger. he lived in the valley of vain regret. the climate of that region has a bad effect on the heart, and his had shriveled up until it was quite small and mean, and hard and cold, at that. "the old man wasn't poor; he lived in a splendid castle and had plenty of servants to wait on him; but he was the loneliest of creatures. he wanted to be lonely. he didn't like anybody, and all he asked of people was that they stay away from him and only speak to him when he spoke to them, which wasn't very often, i assure you. you can easily see that people were willing to stay away from a cross-grained person like that. everybody in the neighborhood was afraid of him. they shivered when he came near, and ran off to get into the sunshine; so he was used to seeing visitors pass by the fine grounds of his castle with only a scared glance or two in that direction, and he wished it to be so. but he was very unhappy all the same. his dried-up heart gave him much discomfort, and then once he had read an old parchment that told of a far different land from vain regret. in that country was the castle of true delight, and many an hour the man spent in restless longing to know how he might find it; for--so he read--if a person could once pass within the portals of that palace, he would never again know sorrow or discontent, but one happy day would follow another in endless variety and satisfaction. "many a time the man mounted on a spirited horse and rode forth in search of this castle, and many different paths he took; but every night he came home discouraged, for no sign could he find of any hope or cheer in the whole valley of vain regret, and it seemed to him to hold him like a prisoner. "one day as he was strolling on the terrace before the castle, in bitter thought, a strange sight met his eyes. a little girl pushed open the great iron gates which he had thought were locked, and walked toward him. for a minute he was too much amazed at such daring to speak, and the little girl came forward, smiling as she caught his look. she had dark eyes and her brown hair curled in her neck. most people would have remarked her sweet expression; but the old man turned fierce at sight of her. "'be off,' he commanded angrily, and he pointed to the gate. "she did not cease smiling nor turn away, but came straight on. "the little dried heart in the old man's breast began to bounce about at a great rate in his anger. he turned to a servant who stood near holding in leash two great hounds. "'set the dogs on her,' he commanded; and though the servant was loath to obey, he dared not refuse, and set free the dogs who, at the master's word, bounded swiftly toward the child. "her loving look did not alter as she saw them coming and she held out her hands to them. when they reached her they licked the little hands with their tongues and bent their great heads to her caresses, and so she advanced to the man, walking between the hounds, a hand on the neck of each. "he stared at her dumfounded as she stood before him, her eyes smiling up into his. her garments were white and of a strange fashion. "'from whence come you?' he asked, when he could speak. "'from the heavenly country,' she answered. "'and what may be your name?' "'purity.' "'i ordered you out of my grounds!' exclaimed the old man. "'i did not hear it,' returned the child, unmoved. "'don't you fear the dogs?' "'what is fear?' asked purity, her eyes wondering. "'this is the land of vain regret,' said the man. 'be off!' "'this is a beautiful land,' returned the child. "for a moment her fearless obstinacy held him silent, then he thought he would voice the question that was always with him. "'have you ever heard, in your country, of the castle of true delight?' he asked. "'often,' replied the child. "'i wish to go there,' he declared eagerly. "'then why not?' returned purity. "'i cannot find the way.' "'that is a pity,' said the child. 'it is in my country.' "'and you have seen it?' "'oh, many times.' "'then you shall show me the way.' "'whenever you are ready,' returned purity. so saying, she passed him, still accompanied by the hounds, and walked up the steps of the castle and passed within and out of sight." * * * * * the story-teller paused. jewel had risen from her seat on the floor and come to sit on a wicker hassock at his feet, and topaz rapped with his tail as she moved. "i wish you'd been there, grandpa, to take care of that little girl," she said earnestly, her eyes fixed on his. "what happened next?" "ask your father," was the response. harry evringham rolled over in the hammock where he lay stretched, until he could see his daughter's face. she rose again and pulled her hassock close to him as he continued:-- "as purity passed into the house, the dogs whined, and the servant calling them, they ran back to him. the old man stood still, bewildered, for a minute; then he struck his hands together. "'it is true, then. even that child has seen it. i will go to her at once, and we will set forth.' "so the old man entered the castle, and gave orders that the child who had just come in should be found and brought to him. "the servants immediately flew to do his bidding, but no child could they find. "'lock the gates lest she escape,' ordered the master. 'she is here. find her, or off goes every one of your foolish heads.' "this was a terrible threat. you may be sure the servants ran hither and thither, and examined every nook and corner; but still no little girl could be found. the master scowled and fumed, but he considered that if he had his servants all beheaded, it would put him to serious inconvenience; so he only sat down and bit his thumbs, and began to try to think up some new way to search for the castle of true delight. "he felt sure the child had told the truth when saying she had beheld it. it was even in the country where she had her home. the man began to see that he had made a mistake not to treat the stranger more civilly. the very dogs that he kept to drive away intruders had been more hospitable than he. "all at once he had a bright thought. the roc, the oldest and wisest of all birds, lived at the top of the mountain which rose above his castle. "'she will tell me the way,' he said, 'for she knows the world from its very beginning.' "so he ordered that they should saddle and bridle his strongest steed, and up the mountain he rode for many a toilsome hour, until he came to where the roc lived among the clouds. "she listened civilly to the man's question. 'so you are weary of your life,' she said. 'many a pilgrim comes to me on the same quest, and i tell them all the same thing. the obstacles to getting away from the valley of vain regret are many, for there is but one road, and that has difficulties innumerable; but the thing that makes escape nearly impossible is the dragon that watches for travelers, and has so many eyes that two of them are always awake. there is one hope, however. if you will examine my wings and make yourself a similar pair, you can fly above the pitfalls and the dragon's nest, and so reach the palace safely.' "as she said this, the roc slowly stretched her great wings, and the man examined them eagerly, above and below. "'and in what direction do i fly?' he asked at last. "'toward the rising sun,' replied the roc; then her wings closed, her head drooped, and she fell asleep, and no further word could the man get from her. "he rode home, and for many weeks he labored and made others labor, to build an air-ship that should carry him out of the valley of vain regret. it was finished at last. it was cleverly fashioned, and had wings as broad as the roc's; but on the day when the man finally stepped within it and set it in motion, it carried him only a short distance outside the castle gates, and then sank to the boughs of a tall tree, and, try as he might, the air-ship could not be made to take a longer flight. "his poor shrunken heart fluttered with rage and disappointment. 'i will go to the wise hermit,' he said. so he went far through the woods to the hut of the wise hermit, and he told him the same gruesome things about the difficulties that beset the road out of the valley of vain regret, and said that one's only hope lay in tunneling beneath them. "so the old man hired a large number of miners, and, setting their faces eastward, they burrowed down into the earth, and blasted and dug a way which the man followed, a greater and greater eagerness possessing him with each step of progress; but just when his hopes were highest, the miners broke through into an underground cavern, bottomless and black, from which they all started back, barely in time to save themselves. it was impossible to go farther, and the whole company returned by the way they had come, and the miners were very glad to breathe the air of the upper world again; but the man's disappointment was bitter. "'it is of no use,' he said, when again he stood on the terrace in front of his castle. 'it is of no use to struggle. i am imprisoned for life in the valley of vain regret.'" * * * * * jewel's father paused. she had listened attentively. now she turned to her grandfather. "is that the way you think the story went, grandpa?" mr. evringham nodded. "i think it did," he replied. "then go on, please, father, because i like a lot of happiness in my stories, and i want that man to hurry up and know that--that error is cheating him." "your mother to the rescue, then," replied harry evringham, smiling. jewel turned to look at her mother, and, rising again, picked up her hassock and carried it to the steamer chair in which mrs. evringham was reclining. her mother looked into her serious eyes and nodded reassuringly as she began:-- * * * * * "as that sorry old man stood there on the terrace, things had never looked so black to him. he was so tired, so tired of hating. he longed for a thousand things, he knew not what, but he was sure they were to be found at the castle of true delight; but he was shut in! there was no way out. as he was thinking these despairing thoughts and looking about on the scenes which had grown hateful to him, he saw something that made him start. the great iron gates leading out of his grounds opened as once before, and a little girl in white garments came in and moved toward him. his heart leaped at the sight,--and it swelled a bit, too! "instead of ordering her off, he hurried toward her and, although he scowled in his eagerness, she smiled and lifted dark eyes that beamed lovingly. "'i cannot find my way to your country nor to the castle of true delight,' said the man, 'and i need you to show me. since you have found your road hither twice, surely you can go back again.' "'yes, easily,' replied purity, 'and since you know that you need me, you are ready, and the king welcomes all.' "'he will not like me,' said the sorry man, 'because nobody does.' "'i do,' replied the child; and at her tone the man's heart swelled a little more. "'there is water in my eyes,' he said, as if to himself. 'what does that mean?' "'it will make you see better,' replied the child. 'it is the kind of water that softens the heart, and that always improves the sight.' "'be it so, then. perhaps i can better see the way; but the road is full of perils innumerable, child. have you found some other path?' "'there is but one,' replied purity. "'so the roc said,' declared the man. 'how did you pass the dragon?' "the child looked up wonderingly. 'i saw no dragon,' she answered. "the man stared at her. 'there are pitfalls and obstacles innumerable,' he repeated, 'and an ever-wakeful dragon. you passed it in the night, perhaps, and were too small to be observed.' "'i saw none,' repeated the child. "'yet i will risk it!' exclaimed the man. 'rather death than this life. wait until i buckle on my sword and order our horses.' "he turned to go, but the child caught his hand. 'we need no horses,' she said, gently, 'and what would you with a sword?' "'for our defense.' "the child pressed his hand softly. 'those who win to true delight use only the sword of spirit,' she answered. "the man frowned at her, but even frowning he wondered. again came the swelling sensation within his breast, which he could not understand. "the child smiled upon him and started toward the heavy gates and the man followed. he wondered at himself, but he followed. "emerging into the woodland road, purity took a path too narrow and devious for a horse to tread, but the man saw that it led toward the rising sun. she seemed perfectly sure of her way, and occasionally turned to look sweetly on the pilgrim whose breast was beginning to quake at thought of the difficulties to come. no defense had he but his two hands, and no guide but this gentle, white-robed child in her ignorant fearlessness. indeed it was worse than being alone, for he must defend her as well as himself. she was so young and helpless, and she had looked love at him. with this thought the strange water stood again in his eyes and the narrow heart in his bosom swelled yet more. "the forest thickened and deepened. sharp thorns sprang forth and at last formed a network before the travelers. "'you will hurt yourself, purity!' cried the man. 'let me go first,' and pushing by the little child, he tried to break the thorny branches and force a way; but his hands were torn in vain; and seeing the hopelessness, after a long struggle, he turned sadly to his guide. "'i told you!' he said. "'yes,' she answered, and the light from her eyes shone upon the tangle. 'on this road, force will avail nothing; but there are a thousand helps for him who treads this path with me.' "as she spoke, an army of bright-eyed little squirrels came fleetly into the thicket and gnawed down thorns and briers before the pilgrims, until they emerged safely into an open field. "'a heart full of thanks, little ones,' called purity after them as they fled. "'why did they do that for us?' asked the astonished man. "'because they know i love them,' replied the child, and she moved forward lightly beside her companion. "they had walked for perhaps half an hour when a sound of rushing waters came to their ears, and they soon reached a broad river. there was no bridge and the current was deep and swift. "the man gazed at the roaring torrent in dismay. 'oh, child, behold the flood! even if i could build a raft, we should be carried out to sea, and no swimmer could stem that tide with you in his arms. how ever came you across by yourself?' "'love helped me,' answered purity. "'alas, it will not help me,' said the man. 'i know hate better.' "'but you are becoming acquainted with love, else you would not look on me so kindly,' returned the child. 'have faith and come to the shore.' she put her little hand in his and he held it close, and together they walked to the edge of the rushing river. suddenly its blackness was touched and twinkling with silver which grew each instant more compact and solid, and, without a moment's hesitation, purity stepped upon the silver path, drawing with her the man, who marveled to see that countless large fish, with their noses toward the current and their fins working vigorously, were offering their bodies as a buoyant bridge, over which the two passed safely. "'a thousand thanks, dear ones,' said purity, as they reached the farther bank; and instantly there was a breaking and twinkling of the silver, and the rushing water swallowed up the kindly fish. "the man, speechless with wonder, moved along beside his guide, and from time to time she sang a little song, and as she sang he could feel his heart swelling and there was a strange new happiness born in it, which seemed to answer her song though his lips were mute. "and then purity talked to him of her king and of the rich delights which were ever poured out to him who once found the path to the heavenly country; and the man listened quite eagerly and humbly and clung to purity as to his only hope. "when night fell he feared to close his eyes lest the child slip away from him; but she smiled at his fears. "'i can never leave you while you want me,' she answered; 'beside, i do not wish to, for i love you. do you forget that?' "at this the man lay down quite peacefully. his heart was full and soft, and the strange water that filled his eyes overflowed upon his cheeks. "in the morning they ate fruits and berries, and pursued their journey, and it was not long before another of the obstacles which the roc and the hermit had foretold threatened to end their pilgrimage. it was a chasm that fell away so steeply and was so deep and wide that, looking into the depths below, the man shuddered and started back. before he had time to utter his dismay, a large mountain deer appeared noiselessly before the travelers. the man started eagerly, but as the creature's bright, wild gaze met his, it vanished as silently and swiftly as it had come. "'ah, why was that?' exclaimed purity. 'felt you an unloving thought?' "''twas a fine deer. had i but possessed a bow and arrow, i could have taken it!' returned the man, with excitement. "'to what end?' asked purity, her wondering eyes sad. 'one does not gain the heavenly country by slaying. we must wait now, until love drives out all else.' "the repentant man hung his head and looked at the broad chasm. 'would that i had not willed to kill the creature,' he said, 'for i am loath to lose my own life, and it is less good than the deer's.' "purity smiled upon him and slid her hand into his, and again the deer bounded before them, followed this time by its mate. "the child fondled them. 'mount upon its back,' she said to the man, indicating the larger animal. he obeyed, though with trembling, while the smaller deer kneeled to the child and she took her seat. "then the creatures planted their feet unerringly and stepped to a lower jutting point of rock, from whence with flying leaps they bridged the chasm and scrambled to firm earth on the other side. "'our hearts' best thanks, loved ones,' said purity, as the deer bounded away. "the man was trembling. 'i have slain many of god's creatures for my pleasure,' he faltered. 'may he forgive me!' "'if you do so no more you will forgive yourself; but only so,' returned purity. "they moved along again and the man spoke earnestly and humbly of the wonders that had befallen them. "'to love, all things are possible,' returned the child; 'but to love only;' and her companion listened to all she said, with a full heart. "by noon that day, an inaccessible cliff stared the travelers in the face. its mighty crags bathed their feet in a deep pool, and up, up, for hundreds of feet, ran a smooth wall of rock in which no one might find a foothold. "the man stared at it in silence, and it seemed to frown back inexorably. his companion watched his face and read its mute hopelessness. "'have you still--_still_ no faith?' she asked. "'i cannot see how'--stammered the man. "'no, you cannot see how--but what does that matter?' asked the child. 'let us eat now,' and she sat down, and the man with her, and they ate of the fruits and nuts she had gathered along the way and carried in her white gown. "while they ate, a pair of great eagles circled slowly downward out of the blue sky, nor paused until they had alighted near the travelers. "'welcome, dear birds,' said purity. 'you know well the heavenly country, and we seek your help to get there, for we have no wings to fly above those rocky steeps.' "the eagles nestled their heads within her little hands, in token of obedience, and when she took her seat upon one, the man obeyed her sign and trusted himself upon the outstretched wings of the other. "up, up, soared the great birds, over the sullen pool, up the sheer rock. up, and still up, with sure and steady flight, until, circling once again, the eagles alighted gently upon a land strewn with flowers. "the man and his guide stood upon the green earth, and purity kissed her hands gratefully to the eagles as they circled away and out of sight. "'this is a beautiful country,' said the man, and he gathered a white flower. "'yes,' returned purity, smiling on him, 'you begin to see it now.'" * * * * * mrs. evringham paused. jewel's eyes were fixed on her unwinkingly. "go on, please, mother," she said. "i think i've told enough," replied mrs. evringham. "oh, but you finish it, mother. you can tell it just beautifully." "thank you, dear, but i think it is your turn." "yes, jewel," said her father, "it's up to you now." "but i don't think a little girl _can_ tell stories to grown-up people." "oh, yes, on her birthday she can," returned her father. "go on, we're all listening; no one asleep except topaz." jewel's grandfather had been watching her absorbed face all the time, between his half-closed lids. "i think they've left the hardest part of all to you, jewel," he said,--"to tell about the dragon." "oh, no-o," returned the child scornfully, "that part's easy." the broker raised his eyebrows. "indeed?" he returned. in honor of her birthday, jewel was arrayed in her silk dress. the white ribbons, anna belle's gift, were billowing out behind her ears. she presented the appearance, as she sat on the wicker hassock, of a person who had had little experience with dragons. "well," she said, after a pause, smiling at her grandfather and lifting her shoulders, "shall i try, then?" "by all means," returned the broker. so jewel folded her hands in her silken lap and began in her light, sweet voice:-- * * * * * "when the man looked around on the flowers and lovely trees and brooks, he said, 'this is a beautiful land.' "and purity answered: 'i'm glad that you see it is. you remember i told you it was.' "'it was the valley of vain regret we were talking about then,' said the man. 'if you had known more about it, you wouldn't have called _that_ beautiful.' "then the little girl smiled because she knew something nice that the man didn't know yet; but he was going to. "so they journeyed along and journeyed along through pleasant places, and while they walked, purity told the man about the great king--how loving he was and everything like that, and the man had hold of her hand and listened just as hard as he could, for he felt sure she was telling the truth; and it made him glad, and his heart that had been wizzled up just like a fig, had grown to be as big as--oh, as big as a watermelon, and it was full of nice feelings. "'i'm happy, purity,' he said to the little girl. "i'm glad,' she answered, and she squeezed his hand back again, because she loved him now as much as if he was her grandpa. "well, they went along, and along, and at last they came to some woods and a narrow path through them. the man was beginning to think they might need the squirrels again, when suddenly"--jewel paused and looked around on her auditors whose faces she could barely see in the gathering dusk,--"suddenly the man thought he saw the dragon he had heard so much about; and he shivered and hung back, but purity walked along and wondered what was the matter with him. "'there's the dragon!' he said, in the most _afraid_ voice, and he hung back on the girl's hand so hard that she couldn't move. "when she saw how he looked, she patted him. 'i don't see anything,' she said, 'only just lovely woods.' "'oh, purity, come back, come back, we can't go any farther!' said the man, and his eyes kept staring at something among the trees, close by. "'what do you see?' asked the little girl. "'a great red dragon with seven heads and ten horns!' answered the man, and he pulled on her again, to go back with him. "'dear me,' said purity, 'is that old make-believe thing ground here, trying to cheat you? i've heard about it.' "'it would make anybody afraid,' said the man. 'it has seven heads and it could eat us up with any one of them.' "'yes, it could, if it was there,' said purity, 'but there isn't any such thing, to _be_ there. the king of the country is all-powerful and he knows we're coming, and he _wants_ us to come. hasn't he taken care of us all the way and helped us over every hard place? shouldn't you think you'd _know_ by this time that we're being taken care of?' "'oh, dear!' said the man, 'i shall never see the heavenly country, nor the castle, nor know what true delight is; for no one could get by that dragon!' "purity felt bad because his face was the sorriest that you ever saw, and his voice sounded full of crying. so she put her arms around him. 'now don't you feel that way;' she said, 'everything is just as happy as it was before. there isn't any dragon there. tell me where you see him.' "so the man pointed to the foot of a great tree close by. "'all right,' said purity, 'i'll go and stand right in front of that tree until you get 'way out of the woods, and then i'll run and catch up with you.' "the man stooped down and put his arms around the girl just as lovingly as if she was his own little grandchild. "'i can't do that,' he said; 'i'd rather the dragon would eat me up than you. you run, purity, and i'll stay; and when he tries to catch you, i'll throw myself in front of him. but kiss me once, dear, because we've been very happy together.' "purity kissed him over and over again because she was so happy about his goodness, and she saw the tears in his eyes, that are the kind that make people see better. she _knew_ what the man was going to see when he stood up again." the story-teller paused a moment, but no one spoke, although she looked at each one questioningly; so she continued:-- "well, he was the most _surprised_ man when he got up and looked around. "'the dragon has gone!' he said. "'no, he hasn't,' said purity, and she just hopped up and down, she was so glad. 'he hasn't gone, because he wasn't there!' "'he _isn't_ there!' said the man, over and over. 'he _isn't_ there!' and he looked so happy--oh, as happy as if it was his birthday or something. "so they walked along out into the sunshine again, and sweeter flowers than ever were growing all around them, and a bird that was near began singing a new song that the man had never heard. "there was a lovely green mountain ahead of them now. 'purity,' said the man, for something suddenly came into his head, 'is this the heavenly country?' "'yes,' said purity, and she clapped her hands for joy because the man knew it was. "they walked along and the bird's notes were louder and sweeter. 'i _think_, said the man softly, 'i think he is singing the song of true delight.' "'he is,' said purity. "so, when they had walked a little farther still, they began to see a splendid castle at the foot of the mountain. "'oh,' said the man, just as happily as anything, 'is that home at _last_!' "'yes,' said purity, 'it is the castle of true delight.' "the man felt young and strong and he walked so fast the little girl had to skip along to keep up with him, and the bird flew around their heads and sang 'love, love, love; _true_ delight, _true_ delight,' just as _plain_." * * * * * jewel gave the bird-song realistically, then she unclasped her hands. "mother," she said, turning to mrs. evringham, "now you finish the story. will you?" "yes, indeed, i know the rest," returned mrs. evringham quietly, and she took up the thread:-- * * * * * "as the man and purity drew near to the great gates before the castle, these flew open of their own accord, and the travelers entered. drawing near the velvet green of the terraces, a curious familiarity in the fair scene suddenly impressed the man. he stared, then frowned, then smiled. a great light streamed across his mind. "'purity,' he asked slowly, 'is this my castle?' "'yes,' she answered, watching him with eyes full of happiness. "'and will you live with me here, my precious child?' "'always. the great king wills it so.' "'but what--where--where is the valley of vain regret?' "purity shook her head and her clear eyes smiled. 'there is no valley of vain regret,' she answered. "'but i lived in it,' said the man. "'yes, before you knew the king, our father. there is no vain regret for the king's child.' "'then i--i, too, am the king's child?' asked the man, his face amazed but radiant, for he began to understand a great many things. "'you, too,' returned purity, and she nestled to him and he held her close while the bird hovered above their heads and sang with clear sweetness, 'love, love, love; true delight, true, true, _true_ delight.'" * * * * * the story-teller ceased. jewel saw that the tale was finished. she jumped up from the hassock and clapped her hands. then she ran to mr. evringham and climbed into his lap. it was so dark now on the veranda that she could scarcely see his face. but he put his arms around her and gathered her to her customary resting place on his shoulder. "wasn't that _lovely_, grandpa? did you think your story was going to end that way?" he stroked her flaxen hair in silence for a few seconds before replying, then he answered, rather huskily:-- "i hoped it would, jewel." "_the books you like to read at the price you like to pay_" * * * * * _there are two sides to everything_-- --including the wrapper which covers every grosset & dunlap book. when you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully selected list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent writers of the day which is printed on the back of every grosset & dunlap book wrapper. you will find more than five hundred titles to choose from--books for every mood and every taste and every pocket-book. _don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to the publishers for a complete catalog._ * * * * * _there is a grosset & dunlap book for every mood and for every taste_ note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) old english sports pastimes and customs by p. h. ditchfield, m.a. fellow of the royal historical society; rector of barkham, berks hon. sec. of berks archæological society, etc. first published by methuen & co., to lady russel this book is dedicated with the author's kindest regards. preface. encouraged by the kind reception which his former book, _our english villages_, met with at the hands of both critics and the public, the author has ventured to reproduce in book-form another series of articles which have appeared during the past year in the pages of _the parish magazine_. he desires to express his thanks to canon erskine clarke for kindly permitting him to reprint the articles, which have been expanded and in part rewritten. the sports and pastimes of england have had many chroniclers, both ancient and modern, amongst whom may be mentioned strutt, brand, hone, stow, and several others, to whose works the writer is indebted for much valuable information. the object of this book is to describe, in simple language, the holiday festivals as they occurred in each month of the year; and the sports, games, pastimes, and customs associated with these rural feasts. it is hoped that such a description may not be without interest to our english villagers, and perhaps to others who love the study of the past. possibly it may help forward the revival of the best features of old village life, and the restoration of some of those pleasing customs which time has deprived us of. the writer is much indebted to mr. e.r.r. bindon for his very careful revision of the proof-sheets. barkham rectory, . contents. chapter i. january. dedication festivals--new year's day--"wassail"--twelfth night--"king of the bean"--st. distaffs day--plough monday--winter games--skating--sword-dancing chapter ii. february. hunting--candlemas day--st. blaize's day--shrove-tide-- football--battledore and shuttlecock--cock-throwing chapter iii. march. archery--lent--"mothering" sunday--palm sunday-- "shere" thursday--watching the sepulchre chapter iv. april. easter customs--pace eggs--handball in churches--sports confined to special localities--stoolball and barley-brake--water tournament:--quintain--chester sports--hock-tide chapter v. may. may-day festivities--may-pole--morris-dancers--the book of sports--bowling--beating the bounds--george herbert's description of a country parson chapter vi. june. whitsuntide sports--church-ales--church-house--quarter-staff-- whistling and jingling matches--st. john's eve--wrestling chapter vii. july. cricket--club-ball--trap-ball--golf--pall-mall--tennis--rush-bearing chapter viii. august. lammas day--st. roch's day--harvest home--"ten-pounding" --sheep-shearing--"wakes"--fairs chapter ix. september. hawking--michaelmas--bull and bear-baiting chapter x. october. tournaments--"mysteries"--"moralities"--pageants chapter xi. november. all-hallow eve--"soul cakes"--diving for apples--the fifth of november--martinmas--"demands joyous "--indoor games chapter xii. december. st. nicholas' day--the boy bishop--christmas eve--christmas customs--mummers--"lord of misrule"--conclusion index chapter i. january. "come then, come then, and let us bring unto our pretty twelfth-tide king, each one his several offering." herrick's _star song_. dedication festivals--new year's day--"wassail"--twelfth night--"king of the bean"--st. distaff's day--plough monday--winter games--skating--sword-dancing. in the old life of rural england few things are more interesting than the ancient sports and pastimes, the strange superstitions, and curious customs which existed in the times of our forefathers. we remember that our land once rejoiced in the name of "merry england," and perhaps feel some regret that many of the outward signs of happiness have passed away from us, and that in striving to become a great and prosperous nation, we have ceased to be a genial, contented, and happy one. in these days new manners are ever pushing out the old. the restlessness of modern life has invaded the peaceful retirement of our villages, and railway trains and cheap excursions have killed the old games and simple amusements which delighted our ancestors in days of yore. the old traditions of the country-side are forgotten, and poor imitations of town manners have taken their place. old social customs which added such diversity to the lives of the rustics two centuries ago have died out. very few of the old village games and sports have survived. the village green, the source of so much innocent happiness, is no more; and with it has disappeared much of that innocent and light-hearted cheerfulness which brightened the hours of labour, and refreshed the spirit of the toiling rustic, when his daily task was done. times have changed, and we have changed with them. we could not now revive many of the customs and diversions in which our fathers took delight. serious and grave men no longer take pleasure in the playthings which pleased them when they were children; and our nation has become grave and serious, and likes not the simple joys which diversified the lives of our forefathers, and made england "merry." is it possible that we cannot restore some of these time-honoured customs? the sun shines as brightly now as ever it did on a may-day festival; the christmas fire glows as in olden days. let us try to revive the spirit which animated their festivals. let us endeavour to realize how our village forefathers used to enjoy themselves, how they used to spend their holidays, and to picture to ourselves the scenes of social intercourse which once took place in our own hamlets. every season of the year had its holiday customs and quaint manner of observance, some of them confined to particular counties, but many of them universally observed. in the volume, recently published, which treated of the story and the antiquities of "our english villages," i pointed out that the church was the centre of the life of the old village--not only of its religious life, but also of its secular every-day life. this is true also with regard to the amusements of the people. the festival of the saint, to whom the parish church was dedicated, was celebrated with much rejoicing. the annual fair was held on that day, when, after their business was ended, friends and neighbours met together and took part in some of the sports and pastimes which i shall try to describe. the other holidays of the year were generally regulated by the church's calendar, the great festivals--christmas, easter, ascension day, whit sunday---being all duly observed. i propose to record in these pages the principal sports, pastimes, and customs which our forefathers delighted in during each month of the year, the accounts of which are not only amusing, but add to our historical knowledge, and help us to realize something of the old village life of rural england. we will begin with new year's day[ ]. it was an ancient saxon custom to begin the year by sending presents to each other. on new year's eve the wassail bowl of spiced ale was carried round from house to house by the village maidens, who sang songs and wished every one "a happy new year." "wassail" is an old saxon word, meaning "be in health." rowena, the daughter of the saxon king hengist, offered a flowing bowl to the british king vortigern, welcoming him with the words, "lloured king wassheil." in devonshire and sussex it was the custom to wassail the orchards; a troop of boys visited the orchards, and, encircling the apple-trees, they sang the words-- "stand fast, bear well top, pray god send us a howling crop; every twig, apples big; every bough, apples enow; hats full, caps full, full quarter-sacks full." then the boys shouted in chorus, and rapped the trees with their sticks. the custom of giving presents on new year's day is as old as the time of the romans, who attached superstitious importance to it, and thought the gifts brought them a lucky year. our christian forefathers retained the pleasant custom when its superstitious origin was long forgotten. fathers and mothers used to delight each other and their little ones by their mutual gifts; the masters gave presents to their servants, and with "march-paynes, tarts, and custards great," they celebrated the advent of the new year. oranges stuck with cloves, or a fat capon, were some of the usual forms of new year's gifts. the "bringing-in" of the new year is a time-honoured custom; which duty is performed by the first person who enters the house after the old year has expired. in the north of england this important person must be a dark man, otherwise superstitious folk believe that ill-luck would befall the household. in other parts of england a light-complexioned man is considered a more favourable harbinger of good fortune. the christmas holidays extended over twelve days, which bring us to january th, the feast of the epiphany. it is stated that "in the days of king alfred a law was made with regard to holidays, by virtue of which the twelve days after the nativity of our saviour were made festivals." twelfth day eve was a great occasion among the rustics of england, and many curious customs are connected with it. in herefordshire the farmers and servants used to meet together in the evening and walk to a field of wheat. there they lighted twelve small fires and one large one[ ], and forming a circle round the huge bonfire, they raised a shout, which was answered from all the neighbouring fields and villages. at home the busy housewife was preparing a hearty supper for the men. after supper they adjourned to the ox-stalls, and the master stood in front of the finest of the oxen and pledged him in a curious toast; the company followed his example with all the other oxen, and then they returned to the house and found all the doors locked, and admittance sternly refused until they had sung some joyous songs. in the south of devonshire, on the eve of the epiphany, the best-bearing trees in the orchard were encircled by the farmer and his labourers, who sang the following refrain-- "here's to thee, old apple-tree, whence thou may'st bud, and whence thou may'st blow, and whence thou may'st bear apples enow! hats full! caps full! bushel-bushel-sacks full, and my pockets full too! huzza!" the returning company were not allowed to enter the house until some one guessed what was on the spit, which savoury tit-bit was awarded to the man who first named it. the youths of the village during the holidays had plenty of sport, outdoor and indoor, which kept out the cold by wholesome exercise and recreative games. many a hard battle was fought with snowballs, or with bat-and-ball on the ice; the barns were the scenes of many a wrestling match or exciting game at skittles; and in the evenings they played such romping games as blind-man's-buff, hunt the slipper, and others of a similar character. while the company sat round the yule-log blazing on the hearth, eating mince-pies, or plum porridge, and quaffing a bowl of well-spiced elder wine, the mummers would enter, decked out in ribands and strange dresses, execute their strange antics, and perform their curious play. so the wintry days passed until twelfth night, with its pleasing associations and mirthful customs. twelfth night was a very popular festival, when honour was done to the memory of the three wise men from the east, who were called the three kings. the election of kings and queens by beans was a very ancient custom. the farmer invited his friends and labourers to supper, and a huge plumcake was brought in, containing a bean and a pea. the man who received the piece of cake containing the bean was called the king of the bean, and received the honour of the company; and the pea conferred a like privilege on the lady who drew the favoured lot. the rest of the visitors assumed the rank of ministers of state or maids of honour. the festival was generally held in a large barn decorated with evergreens, and a large bough of mistletoe was not forgotten, which was often the source of much merriment. when the ceremony began, some one repeated the lines-- "now, now the mirth comes with the cake full of plums, when bean is king of the sport here. beside, you must know, the pea also must revel as queen of the court here." then the cake was cut and distributed amid much laughter and merry shouts. the holders of the bean and pea were hailed as king and queen for the night, the band struck up some time-honoured melody, and a country dance followed which was ever carried on with much spirit. the king exercised his royal prerogative by choosing partners for the women, and the queen performed a like office for the men; and so they merrily played their parts till the hours grew late. but the holidays were nearly over, and the time for resuming work had arrived. however, neither the women nor the men seemed to be in any hurry to begin. the day after twelfth day was humorously called st. distaft's[ ] day, which was devoted to "partly work and partly play." herrick, the recorder of many social customs, tells us that the ploughmen used to set on fire the flax which the maids used for spinning, and received pails of water on their heads for their mischief. the following monday was called plough monday, when the labourers used to draw a plough decked with ribbons round the parish, and receive presents of money, favouring the spectators with sword-dancing and mumming. the rude procession of men, clad in clean smock-frocks, headed by the renowned "bessy," who sang and rattled the money-box, accompanied by a strangely-dressed character called the fool, attired in skins of various animals and having a long tail, threw life into the dreary scenery of winter, as the gaily-decked plough was drawn along the quiet country lanes from one village to another. the origin of plough monday dates back to pre-reformation times, when societies of ploughmen called guilds used to keep lights burning upon the shrine of some saint, to invoke a blessing on their labour. the reformation put out the lights, but it could not extinguish the festival. in the long winter evenings the country folk amused themselves around their winter's fireside by telling old romantic stories of errant knights and fairies, goblins, witches, and the rest; or by reciting "some merry fit of mayde marran, or els of robin hood." in the tudor times there were plenty of winter games for those who could play them, amongst which we may mention chess, cards, dice, shovel-board, and many others. and when the ponds and rivers were frozen, as early as the twelfth century the merry skaters used to glide over the smooth ice. their skates were of a very primitive construction, and consisted of the leg-bones of animals tied under their feet by means of thongs. neither were the skaters quite equal to cutting "threes" and "eights" upon the ice; they could only push themselves along by means of a pole with an iron spike at the end. but they used to charge each other after the manner of knights in a tournament, and use their poles for spears. an old writer says that "they pushed themselves along with such speed that they seemed to fly like a bird in the air, or as darts shot out from the engines of war." some of the less adventurous youths were content with sliding, or driving each other forward on great pieces of ice. "dancing with swords" was a favourite form of amusement among the young men of northern nations, and in those parts of england where the norsemen and danes settled, this graceful gymnastic custom long lingered. [illustration: dancing on the village green.] the old country dances which used to delight our fathers seem to be vanishing. i have not seen for many years the village rustics "crossing hands" and going "down the middle," and tripping merrily to the tune of a fiddle; but perhaps they do so still. in olden days the city maidens of london were often "dancing and tripping till moonlight" in the open air; and later on we read that on holidays, after evening prayer, while the youths exercised their wasters and bucklers, the maidens, "one of them playing on a timbrel, in sight of their masters and dames, used to dance for garlands hanged athwart the streets." stow, the recorder of this custom, wisely adds, "which open pastimes in my youth, being now suppressed, worser practices within doors are to be feared." in some parts of england they still trip it gaily in the moonlight. a clergyman in gloucestershire tried to establish a cricket club in his parish, but his efforts were all in vain; the young men preferred to dance together on the village green, and the more manly diversion had no charms for them. dancing was never absent from our ancestors' festivities, and round the merry may-pole "where the jocund swains dance with the maidens to the bagpipe strains;" or in the festal hall, adorned with evergreens and mistletoe, with tripping feet they passed the hours "till envious night commands them to be gone." chapter ii. february. "down with rosemary and bayes, down with the mistleto, instead of holly, now up-raise the greener box, for show." "the holly hitherto did sway; let box now domineere, untill the dancing easter-day, or easter's eve appeare." hunting--candlemas day--st. blaize's day--shrove-tide-- football--battledore and shuttlecock--cock-throwing. the fox-hounds often meet in our village during this cheerless month, and i am reminded by the red coats of the huntsmen, and by the sound of the cheerful horn, of the sportsmen of ancient days, who chased the wolf, hart, wild boar, and buck among these same woods and dales of england. all hearts love to hear the merry sound of the huntsman's horn, except perhaps that of the hunted fox or stag. the love of hunting seems ingrained in every englishman, and whenever the horsemen appear in sight, or the "music" of the hounds is heard in the distance, the spade is laid aside, the ploughman leaves his team, the coachman his stables, the gardener his greenhouses, books are closed, and every one rushes away to see the sport. the squire, the farmers, and every one who by hook or by crook can procure a mount, join in the merry chase, for as an old poet sings-- "the hunt is up, the hunt is up, sing merrily we, the hunt is up; the birds they sing, the deer they fling: hey, nony, nony-no: the hounds they cry, the hunters they fly, hey trolilo, trolilo, the hunt is up." we english folks come of a very sporting family. the ancient britons were expert hunters, and lived chiefly on the prey which they killed. our saxon forefathers loved the chase, and in some very old saxon pictures illustrating the occupations of each month we see the lord, attended by his huntsmen, chasing the wild boars in the woods and forests. the saxon king, edgar, imposed a tribute of wolves' heads, and athelstan ordered the payment of fines in hawks and strong-scented dogs. edward the confessor, too, who scorned worldly amusements, used to take "delight in following a pack of swift dogs, and in cheering them with his voice." the illustration is taken from an old illumination which adorned an ancient ms., and represents some saxons engaged in unearthing a fox. [illustration: hunting in saxon times (from an ancient ms.).] when the normans came to england great changes were made, and hunting--the favourite sport of the conqueror--was promoted with a total disregard of the welfare of the people. whole villages and churches were pulled down in order to enlarge the royal forests, and any one who was rash enough to kill the king's deer would lose his life or his eyesight. it was not until the reign of henry iii. that this law was altered. william the conqueror, who forbade the killing of deer and of boars, and who "loved the tall stags as though he were their father," greatly enlarged the new forest, in hampshire. henry i. built a huge stone wall, seven miles in circumference, round his favourite park of woodstock, near oxford; and if any one wanted a favour from king john, a grant of privileges, or a new charter, he would have to pay for it in horses, hawks, or hounds. the norman lords were as tyrannical in preserving their game as their king, and the people suffered greatly through the selfishness of their rulers. there is a curious ms. in the british museum, called _the craft of hunting_, written by two followers of edward ii., which gives instructions with regard to the game to be hunted, the rules for blowing the horn, the dogs to be used in the chase, and so on. it is too long to quote, but i may mention that the animals to be hunted included the hare, hart, wolf, wild boar, buck, doe, fox ("which oft hath hard grace"), the martin-cat, roebuck, badger, polecat, and otter. many of these animals have long since disappeared through the clearing of the old forests, or been exterminated on account of the mischief which they did. our modern hunters do not enjoy quite such a variety of sport. otter-hunting, now very rare, was once a favourite sport among villagers who dwelt near a river. isaac walton, in his book called _the complete angler_, thus describes the animated scene: "look! down at the bottom of the hill there, in the meadow, checkered with water-lilies and lady-smocks; there you may see what work they make; look! look! you may see all busy--men and dogs--dogs and men--all busy." at last the otter is found. then barked the dogs, and shouted the men! boatmen pursue the poor animal in the water. horsemen dash into the river. the otter dives, and strives to escape; but all in vain her efforts, and she perishes by the teeth of the dogs or the huntsmen's spears. foreigners are always astonished at our love of sport and hunting, and our disregard of all danger in the pursuit of our favourite amusement, and one of our visitors tells the following story: "when the armies of henry viii. and francis, king of france, were drawn up against each other, a fox got up, which was immediately pursued by the english. the 'varmint' ran straight for the french lines, but the englishmen would not cease from the chase; the frenchmen opposed them, and killed many of these adventurous gentlemen who for the moment forgot their warfare in the charms of the chase." but i must proceed to mention other february customs and sports. great importance was attached to the feast of the purification, commonly called candlemas day (february nd), when consecrated candles were distributed and carried about in procession. at the reformation this custom did not entirely disappear, for we find a proclamation of henry viii., in a.d., which orders that "on candlemas day it shall be declared that the bearing of candles is done in memory of christ the spiritual light, whom simeon did prophesy, as it is read in the church on that day." christmas decorations were removed from the houses; the holly, rosemary, bay, and mistletoe disappeared, to make room for sprigs of box, which remained until easter brought in the yew. our ancestors were very fond of bonfires, and on the rd of this month, st. blaize's day,[ ] the red flames might be seen darting up from every hilltop. but why they should do this on that day is not evident, except that the good bishop's name sounded something like _blaze_, and perhaps that was quite a sufficient reason! and why the day of st. valentine should have been selected for the drawing lots for sweethearts, and for the sending affectionate greetings, is another mystery. st. valentine was a priest and martyr in italy in the third century, and had nothing to do with the popular commemoration of the day. now we come to the diversions of shrove-tide,[ ] which immediately precedes the lenten fast. the monday before ash wednesday was called collop monday in the north, because slices of bacon (or collops) were the recognized dish for dinner. but on tuesday the chief amusements began; the bells were rung, pancakes tossed with great solemnity, and devoured with great satisfaction, as an old writer, who did not approve of so much feasting, tells us-- "in every house are shouts and cries, and mirth and revel rout, and dainty tables spread, and all beset with guests about." he further describes this old english carnival, which must have rivalled any that we read of on the continent-- "some run about the streets attired like monks, and some like kings, accompanied with pomp, and guard, and other stately things. some like wild beasts do run abroad in skins that divers be arrayed, and eke with loathsome shapes, that dreadful are to see, they counterfeit both bears and wolves, and lions fierce in sight, and raging bulls; some play the cranes, with wings and stilts upright." but the great game for shrove tuesday was our time-honoured football, which has survived so many of the ancient pastimes of our land, and may be considered the oldest of all our english national sports. the play might not be quite so scientific as that played by our modern athletes, but, from the descriptions that have come down to us, it was no less vigorous. "after dinner" (says an old writer) "all the youths go into the fields to play at the ball. the ancient and worthy men of the city come forth on horseback to see the sport of the young men, and to take part of the pleasure in beholding their agility." there are some exciting descriptions of old football matches; and we read of some very fierce contests at derby, which was renowned for the game. in the seventeenth century it was played in the streets of london, much to the annoyance of the inhabitants, who had to protect their windows with hurdles and bushes. at bromfield, in cumberland, the annual contest on shrove tuesday was keenly fought. sides having been chosen, the football was thrown down in the churchyard, and the house of the captain of each side was the goal. sometimes the distance was two or three miles, and each step was keenly disputed. he was a proud man at bromfield who succeeded in reaching the goal with the ball, which he received as his guerdon. how the villagers used to talk over the exploits of the day, and recount their triumphs of former years with quite as much satisfaction as their ancestors enjoyed in relating their feats in the border wars! the scots were famous formerly, as they now are, for prowess in the game, and the account of the shrove tuesday match between the married and single men at scone, in perthshire, reads very like a description of a modern rugby contest. at inverness the women also played, the married against the unmarried, when the former were always victorious. king james i., who was a great patron of sports, did not approve of his son henry being a football player. he wrote that a young man ought to have a "moderate practice of running, leaping, wrestling, fencing, dancing, and playing at the caitch, or tennis, bowls, archery, pall-mall, and riding; and in foul or stormy weather, cards and backgammon, dice, chess, and billiards," but football was too rough a game for his majesty, and "meeter for laming than making able." stubbs also speaks of it as a "bloody and murthering practice, rather than a fellowly sport or pastime." from the descriptions of the old games, it seems to have been very painful work for the shins, and there were no rules to prevent hacking and tripping in those days. football has never been the spoilt child of english pastimes, but has lived on in spite of royal proclamations and the protests of peace-loving citizens who objected to the noise, rough play, and other vagaries of the early votaries of the game. edward ii. and succeeding monarchs regarded it as a "useless and idle sport," which interfered with the practice of archery, and therefore ought to be shunned by all loyal subjects. the violence displayed at the matches is evident from the records which have come down to us, and from the opinions of several writers who condemn it severely. free fights, broken limbs, and deaths often resulted from old football encounters; and when the games took place in the streets, lines of broken windows marked the progress of the players. "a bloody and murdering practice," "a devilish pastime," involving "beastly fury and extreme violence," the breaking of necks, arms, legs and backs--these were some of the descriptions of the football of olden times. the puritans set their faces against it, and the sport languished for a long period as a general pastime. in some places it was still practised with unwonted vigour, but it was not until the second half of the present century that any revival took place. but football players have quickly made up for lost time; few villages do not possess their club, and our young men are ready to "try it out at football by the shins," with quite as much readiness as the players in the good old days, although the play is generally less violent, and more scientific. hurling, too, was a fast and furious game, very similar to our game of hockey, and played with sticks and a ball. two neighbouring parishes used to compete, and the object was to drive the ball from some central spot to one, or other, village. the contest was keen and exciting; a ball was driven backwards and forwards, over hills, dales, hedges, and ditches, through bushes, briars, mires, plashes, and rivers, until at length the wished-for goal was gained. battledore and shuttlecock were favourite games for the girls, which they played singing quaint rhymes-- "great a, little a; this is pancake day!" and the men also indulged in tip-cat, or billet. there is one other custom, of a most barbarous and cruel description, which was practised on shrove tuesday by our forefathers, and which happily has perished,[ ] and that was throwing at cocks or hens with sticks. the poor bird was tied by the leg, and its tormentors stood twenty-two yards distant and had three throws each for twopence, winning the bird if they could knock it down. the cock was trained beforehand to avoid the sticks, so as to win more money for its brutal master. well might a learned foreigner remark, "the english eat a certain cake on shrove tuesday, upon which they immediately run mad, and kill their poor cocks." cock-fighting was a favourite amusement on shrove tuesday, as well as at other times. this shameful and barbarous practice was continued until the eighteenth century; some of our kings took delight in it, and in the old grammar schools in the north of england it was sanctioned by the masters, who received from their scholars a small tax called "cock-fight dues." happily, with bull-baiting, bear-baiting, dog-fighting, and the like, this cruel and brutal pastime has ceased to exist. if we have lost some of the simple joys and cheerful light-heartedness of our forefathers, we have also happily lost some of their cruel disregard for the sufferings of animals, and abandoned such barbarous amusements as i have tried to describe. but the old sports of england were not all like these; the archery, running, leaping, wrestling, football, and other games in which our ancestors delighted, made the young men of england a manly and a sturdy race, and our nation mainly owes its greatness to the courage, manliness, and daring of her sons. but ash wednesday has dawned, and all is still in town and village. the shrove-tide feast is ended, and the days of fasting and of prayer have hushed the sounds of merriment and song. chapter iii. march. "and now a solemn fast we keep, when earth wakes from her winter sleep." "and he was clad in cote and hode of grene; a shefe of pecocke arrowes bryght and shene under his belt he bare ful thriftely, well could he dresse his tackle yomanly; his arrowes drouped not with fethers lowe, and in hande he bare a myghty bowe." archery--lent--"mothering" sunday--palm sunday-- "shere" thursday--watching the sepulchre. of all the sports and pastimes of old england, archery was the most renowned, and many a hard-fought victory has been gained through the skill which our english archers acquired in the use of their famous bows. "alas, alas for scotland when english arrows fly!" was the sad lament of many a highland clan, and frenchmen often learnt to their cost the force of our bowmen's arms. the accounts of the fights of creçy and poitiers tell of the prowess of our archers; and the skill which they acquired by practising at the butts at home has gained many a victory. archery was so useful in war that several royal proclamations were issued to encourage the sport, and in many parishes there were fields set apart for the men to practise. although the sport has died out as a popular pastime, the old name, the butts, remains in many a town and village, recording the spot where our forefathers acquired their famous skill. the name is still retained in the neighbouring town of reading, and in some old records i find that in a certain "will'm watlynton received xxxvi_s_. for making of the butts;" and there are several items of charges in other years for repairing and renewing the same. [illustration: two archers wearing armor.] edward iii. ordered "that every one strong in body, at leisure on holidays, should use in their recreation bows and arrows, and learn and exercise the art of shooting, forsaking such vain plays as throwing stones, handball, football, bandyball, or cock-fighting, which have no profit in them." edward iv. ordered every englishman, of whatever rank, to have a bow his own height always ready for use, and to instruct his children in the art. in every township the butts were ordered to be set up, and the people were required to shoot "up and down" every sunday and feast-day, under penalty of one halfpenny. the sport began to decline in the sixteenth century, in spite of royal proclamations and occasional revivals. henry viii. forbade the use of the cross-bow, lest it should interfere with the practice of the more ancient weapon, and many old writers lament over the decay of this famous pastime of old england, which, as bishop latimer stated in one of his sermons, "is a goodly art, a wholesome kind of exercise, and much commended as physic." the finsbury archers had, in , no less than one hundred and sixty-four targets in finsbury fields, set up on pillars with curious devices over them; but four years later stow laments that "by reason of closing in of common grounds, our archers, for want of room to shoot abroad, creep into ordinary dicing-houses and bowling-alleys near home." the famous robin hood, who lived in the reign of richard i., was the king of archers. the exploits of this renowned outlaw and his merry men form the subject of many old ballads and romances, and the old oaks in sherwood forest could tell the tale of many an exciting chase after the king's deer, and of many a luckless traveller who had to pay dearly for the hospitality of robin hood and little john. the ballads narrate that they could shoot an arrow a measured mile, but this is a flight of imagination which we can hardly follow! "but he was an archer true and good, and people called him robin hood; such archers as he and his men will england never see again." another ballad relates the prowess of william of cloudslee, who scorned to shoot at an ordinary target, and cutting a hazel rod from a tree, he shot at it from twenty score paces, cleaving the rod in two. [illustration: cross-bow shooting at the butts (from ms. dated ).] [illustration: an archer.] like william tell of great renown, our english archer could split an apple placed on his son's head at the distance of six score paces. in time of war the archers were armed with a body-armour, the arms being left free. they had a long bow made of yew, a sheaf of arrows winged with gray goose-feathers, a sword, and small shield. such was the appearance of the men who struck such terror among the knights and chivalry of france, and won many victories for england before the days of muskets and rifles. we are now in the season of lent, and our towns and villages were very still and quiet during these weeks. but there was an old custom on refreshment[ ] or mid-lent sunday for people to visit their mother-church and make offerings on the altar. hence probably arose the practice of "mothering," or going to visit parents on that day, and taking presents to them. herrick alludes to this pleasant custom in the following lines-- "i'll to thee a simnell bring, 'gainst thou go'st a mothering; so that when she blesseth thee, half that blessing thou'lt give me." many a mother's heart would rejoice to welcome to the old village home once again some fond youth or maiden who had gone to seek their fortunes in the town, and many happy recollections would long linger of "mothering" sunday. the cakes alluded to in the above verse, which children presented to their parents on these occasions, were called simnells. in some parts of england--in lancashire, shropshire, and herefordshire--these cakes are still eaten on mid-lent sunday. possibly they had some religious signification, for the saxons were in habit of eating consecrated cakes at their festivals. the name simnell is derived from a latin word signifying fine flour, and not from the mythical persons, simon and nell, who are popularly supposed to have invented the cake. hot cross buns are a relic of an ancient rite of the saxons, who ate cakes in honour of the goddess of spring, and the early christian missionaries strove to banish the heathen ideas associated with the cakes (which latter the people would not abandon) by putting a cross upon them. in memory of our lord's triumphal entry into jerusalem, when the people took branches of palm-trees and scattered them in the way, on palm sunday our ancestors went in procession through the town or village, bearing branches of willow, yew, or box (as there were no palms growing in this country), which were subsequently carried to the church and offered at the altar. this custom lingered on after the reformation, and until recent times the practice of going a-palming, or gathering branches of willow, on the saturday before palm sunday, has continued. sometimes in mediæval times a wooden figure representing our saviour riding upon an ass was drawn along by the crowds in the procession, and the people scattered their willow branches before the figure as it passed. thursday before easter day was called shere, or maundy, thursday. the first name is derived from the ancient custom of _shering_ the head and clipping the beard on that day; and maundy is a corruption of the latin word _mandatum_, which means "a command," and refers to the command of our lord to imitate his example in the humility which he showed in washing the feet of his disciples. in memory of his lowly act the kings and queens of england used to wash the feet of a large number of poor men and women, and bestowed upon them gifts and money. this practice was continued until the reign of james ii., and in our own day the queen presents to a certain number of poor people bags of silver pennies, called maundy money, which is coined for that special purpose. many of my readers are familiar with the rhyme concerning "hot cross buns," but perhaps they are not acquainted with the superstition which our forefathers attached to them. a writer on cornish customs says: "in some of our farmhouses the good friday cake may be seen hanging to the bacon-rack, slowly but surely diminishing, until the return of the season replaces it by a fresh one. it is of sovereign good in all manner of diseases that may afflict the family, or flocks and herds. i have seen a little of this cake grated into a warm mash for a sick cow." hot cross buns were supposed to have great power in preserving friendship. if two friends broke a bun in half exactly at the cross, while standing within the church-doors on good friday morning before service, and saying the words-- "half for you, and half for me, between us two good-will shall be. amen," then, so long as they kept their halves, no quarrel would arise between them. in the west of england it was considered very sinful to work on good friday, and woe betide the luckless housewife who did her washing on that day, for one of the family, it was believed, would surely die before the end of the year. there are many other superstitions attached to the day, such as the preserving of eggs laid on good friday, which were supposed to have power to extinguish fire; the making of cramp-rings out of the handles of coffins, which rings were blessed by the king of england as he crept on his knees to the cross, and were supposed to be preservatives against cramp. in old churchwardens' account-books we find such entries as the following-- "to the sextin for watching the sepulture two nyghts viii_d_." "paide to roger brock for watching of the sepulchre _d_." and as the nights were cold we find an additional item-- "paid more to said roger brock for syses and colles, _d._" these entries allude to the ancient custom of erecting on good friday a small building to represent the holy sepulchre, and setting a person to watch for two nights in remembrance of the soldiers watching the grave in which our lord's body was laid. at the dawning of the easter morn the bells rang joyously, and all was life and animation. the sun itself was popularly supposed to dance with joy on the feast of the resurrection. but the manners and customs, sports and pastimes, which were associated with easter, i will reserve for my next chapter. chapter iv. april. "the spring clad all in gladness doth laugh at winter's sadness; and to the bagpipe's sound the nymphs tread out their ground. "fie then, why sit we musing, youth's sweet delight refusing; say dainty nymphs, and speak: shall we play barley-breake?" _old ballad_ (a.d. ). easter customs--pace eggs--handball in churches--sports confined to special localities--stoolball and barley-brake --water tournament--quintain--chester sports--hock-tide. from the earliest days of christianity easter has always been celebrated with the greatest joy, and accounted the queen of festivals. many curious customs are associated with this feast, some of which represented in a rude, primitive way the resurrection of our lord. there was an old miracle play which was performed at easter; for we find in the churchwardens' books at kingston-upon-thames, in the reign of henry viii., certain expenses for "a skin of parchment and gunpowder for the play on easter day," for a player's coat, stage, and "other things belonging to the play." then there was the custom in the north of england of "lifting" or "heaving," which was originally designed to represent our saviour's resurrection. on easter monday the men used to lift the women, whom they met, thrice above their heads into the air, and the women responded on easter tuesday, and lifted the men. this custom prevailed also in north wales, warwickshire, and shropshire. the pace eggs, or _pasche_, or _paschal_ eggs, were originally intended to show forth the same truth, as the egg retaining the elements of future life was used as an emblem of the resurrection. these pace eggs were dyed, decorated with pretty devices, and presented by friends to each other. in the north of england, the home of so many of our old customs, the practice of giving pace eggs still lingers on; and we find amongst the household expenses of king edward i. an item of "four hundred and a half of eggs--eighteenpence," which were purchased on easter day. the prices current in the thirteenth century for eggs would scarcely be deemed sufficient by our modern poultry-keepers! the decoration of churches and houses with flowers just risen from their winter sleep, the practice of always wearing some part of the dress new on easter day, all seem to have had their origin in the holy lessons which cluster round the festival of the resurrection. an old writer tells us that it was the custom in some churches for the clergy to play at handball at this season; even bishops and archbishops took part in the pastime; but why they should profane god's house in this way we are at a loss to discover. the reward of the victors was a tansy-cake, so called from the bitter herb tansy, which was supposed to be beneficial after eating so much fish during lent. of the various kinds of games with balls i propose to treat in another chapter. at easter there were numerous sports in vogue in different parts of the country. in olden times almost every county had its peculiar sport, which was regarded as a monopoly of that district. people did not work so hard in those days, and seem to have had more time and energy for ancient pastimes. many of these old games have entirely vanished; others have left their old neighbourhoods, and received a hearty welcome all over the country. berkshire and somersetshire were the ancestral homes of cudgel-play, quarter-staff, and single-stick. skating and pole-leaping were the characteristic sports of the fen country. kent and sussex were famous for their cricket; the northern counties for their football. scotland rejoiced in golf, curling, and tossing the caber; while cumberland and westmoreland, cornwall and devon, were noted for their vigorous and active wrestlers. curling, tossing the caber[ ], and wrestling have clung to their old homes; but the other sports have wandered far and wide, and are no longer confined to their native counties. at easter the local favourite sport was renewed with zest and eagerness, and almost everywhere foot-races were run, the prize of the conqueror being a tansy-cake. stoolball and barley-brake were also favourite games in this month, as poor robin says in his _almanack_ for . barley-brake seems to have been a very merry game, in which the ladies took part, and of which we find some very bright descriptions in the writings of some old english poets. the only science of the pastime consisted in one couple trying with "waiting foot and watchful eye" to catch the others and bear them off as captives. an old writer thus describes a water tournament, which seems to have been a popular pastime among the youths of london at easter--"they fight battels on the water. a shield is hanged upon a pole (this is a kind of quintain) fixed in the midst of the stream. a boat is prepared without oars, to be carried by the violence of the water, and in the fore-part thereof standeth a young man ready to give charge upon the shield with his lance. if so be he break his lance against the shield, and do not fall, he is thought to have performed a worthy deed. if so be that, without breaking his lance, he runneth strongly against the shield, down he falleth into the water, for the boat is violently tossed with the tide; but on each side of the shield ride two boats furnished with young men, which recover him that falleth as soon as they may. upon the bridge, wharves, and houses by the river-side, stand great numbers to see and laugh thereat." stow thus describes the water tournament--"i have seen also in the summer season, upon the river thames, some rowed in wherries, with staves in their hands, flat at the fore-end, running one against the other; and for the most part, one or both of them were overthrown and well ducked." this sport on the water was a variety of the famous quintain, which was itself derived from the jousts or tournaments, only, instead of a human adversary, the knight or squire, riding on a horse, charged a shield or wooden figure attached to a piece of wood, which easily turned round upon the top of a post. at the other end of the wood was a heavy bag of sand, which, when the rider struck the shield with his lance, swung round and struck him with great force on the back if he did not ride fast and so escape his ponderous foe. there were other forms of this sport, which is so ancient that its origin has been lost in antiquity. queen elizabeth was very much amused at kenilworth castle by the hard knocks which the inexpert riders received from the rotating sand-bag when they charged "a comely quintane" in her royal presence in the year . a handsome quintain still stands on offham village green, in kent, although it is no longer used for the skilful practice of former days. it is the custom to hoist married men, who are not blest with children, on the quintain, which is made to revolve rapidly. sometimes discontented and disobedient wives share the same fate. chester was famous for its easter sports, when the mayor with his mace, the corporation with twenty guilds, marched to the rood-eye, to play at football. but "inasmuch as great strife did arise among the young persons of the same city" on account of the game, a change was made in the reign of henry viii., and foot-races and horse-races were substituted for the time-honoured football, and an arrow of silver was given to the best archer. but easter sports are almost finished: however, we have not long to wait for another popular anniversary; for the famous hock-tide sports always took place a fortnight after easter, and much amusement, and profit also, were derived from the quaint observances of hock monday and tuesday. the meaning of the word and the origin of the custom have been the subjects of much conjecture; but the festival is supposed to be held in remembrance of the victory of our saxon forefathers over the danes in the time of ethelred. the custom was that on hock monday the men should go out into the streets and roads with cords, and stop and bind all the women they met, releasing them on payment of a small ransom. on the following day the women bound the men, and the proceeds were devoted to charitable purposes. it is to be noted that the women always extracted the most money, and in the old churchwardens' accounts we find frequent records of this strange method of collecting subscriptions--_e.g._, st. lawrence's, reading, a.d. :--"item, received of hoc money gaderyd" (gathered) "of women xx_s_. item, received of hoc money gaderyd of men iiij_s_." we also find that the women had a supper given to them as a reward for their exertions, for there is the "item for wives' supper at hock-tide xxiij_d_." the observance of hock-tide seems to have been particularly popular in the ancient town of reading. at coventry there was an "old coventry play of hock tuesday," which was performed with great delight before queen elizabeth at kenilworth: the players divided themselves into two companies to represent the saxons and the danes: a great battle ensued, and by the help of the saxon women the former were victorious, and led the danes captive. the queen laughed much at the pageant, and gave the performers two bucks and five marks in money. so ends the month of sunshine and of shower; but the rustic youths are making ready for the morris-dance, and the merry milk-maids are preparing their ribbons to adorn themselves for the revels of may day. the may-pole is being erected on the village green, and all is in readiness for the rejoicings of to-morrow. chapter v. may. "colin met sylvia on the green once on the charming first of may, and shepherds ne'er tell false, i ween, yet 'twas by chance, the shepherds say. "colin he bow'd and blush'd, then said, 'will you, sweet maid, this first of may, begin the dance by colin led, to make this quite his holiday?' "sylvia replied, 'i ne'er from home yet ventur'd, till this first of may; it is not fit for maids to roam, and make a shepherd's holiday.' "'it is most fit,' replied the youth, 'that sylvia should this first of may by me be taught that love and truth can make of life a holiday.'"--lady craven. may day festivities--may-pole--morris-dancers--the book of sports--bowling--beating the bounds--george herbert's description of a country parson. the spring has dawned with all its brightness and beauty; the nightingale's song is heard, and all nature seems to rejoice in the sweet spring-time. our forefathers delighted, too, in the advent of the bright month of may, which the old poets used to compare to a maiden clothed in sunshine dancing to the music of birds and brooks; and may day was the great rural festival of the year. long before the break of day, men and women, old and young, of all classes, used to assemble and hurry away to the woods and groves to gather the blooming hawthorn and spring flowers, and laden with their spoils returned when the sun rose, with merry shouts and horn-blowings, and adorned every door and window in the village. the poet herrick sings of this pleasant beginning to the day's festivities. addressing a maiden named corinna, he says-- "come, my corinna, come, and coming mark how each field turns a street, and each street a park, made green and trimmed with trees; see how devotion gives each house a bough or branch; each porch, each door, ere this an ark, a tabernacle is made up of white-thorn neatly interwove." the men blew cow-horns to usher in the spring, and the maids carried garlands to hang them in the churches; while at oxford the choristers of magdalen college assemble at the top of the tower at early dawn, and sing hymns of thankfulness because spring has come again. this pleasing custom is still observed every year on the first of may. but let us away to the village green, where the may-pole is being adorned with a few finishing touches, and is covered with flowers and ribbons. it has been carried here by twenty or thirty yoke of oxen, their horns decorated with sweet flowers, and then, with shouts and laughter, and with song, the young men raise the massive pole with handkerchiefs and flags streaming on the top, and the rustic feast and dance begin. "the may-pole is up, now give me the cup, i'll drink to the garlands around it; but first unto those whose hands did compose the glory of flowers that crown'd it."[ ] a company of morris-dancers approach, and a circle is made round the may-pole in which they can perform. first comes a man dressed in a green tunic, with a bow, arrows, and bugle-horn, who represents robin hood, and by his side, attended by some maidens, walks maid marian, the may queen.[ ] will stukeley, little john, and other companions of the famous outlaw, are represented; and last, but not least, comes the hobby-horse--a man with a light wooden framework representing a horse about him, covered with trappings reaching to the ground, so as to prevent the man's feet from being seen. the hobby-horse careered about, pranced and curveted, to the great amusement of the company. the morris-dancers are adorned with bells, which jingle merrily as they dance. but a formidable-looking dragon approaches, which hisses and flaps his wings, and looks very fierce, making the hobby-horse kick and rear frantically. when the animals have wearied themselves, the maidens dance again, and the archers set up their targets on the lower end of the green, where a close contest ensues, and after many shots the victor is crowned with a laurel wreath. such were some of the sights and sounds of may day in olden times. but the puritans, who slew their king, charles i., were very much opposed to all joyousness and mirth, and one of their first acts when they came into power was to put down the may-pole. they ordered that all may-poles (which they called "a heathenish vanity, generally abused to superstition and wickedness") shall be taken down by the constables and churchwardens, and that the said officers be fined five shillings till the said may-poles be taken down. so the merry may songs were hushed for many a long year, until charles ii. was restored to his throne, and then the stately pole was reared once more, and robin hood and his merry crew began their sports again. but times change, and we change with them: customs pass away, and with them have long vanished the may-pole and its bright group of light-hearted rustics. an american writer who visited this country thus describes his feeling when he saw an old may-pole still standing at chester--"i shall never forget my delight. my fancy adorned it with wreaths of flowers, and peopled the green bank with all the dancing revelry of may day. i value every custom that tends to infuse poetical feeling into the common people, and to sweeten and soften the rudeness of rustic manners without destroying their simplicity. indeed, it is to the decline of this happy simplicity that the decline of this custom may be traced, and the rural dance on the green, and the homely may-day pageant, have gradually disappeared in proportion as the peasantry have become expensive and artificial in their pleasures, and too knowing for simple enjoyment. some attempts, indeed, have been made by men of both taste and learning to rally back the popular feeling to their standards of primitive simplicity; but the time has gone by, the feeling has become chilled by habits of gain and traffic, the country apes the manners and amusements of the town, and little is heard of may day at present, except from the lamentations of authors, who sigh after it from among the brick walls of the city." the name of the parish of st. andrew _undershaft_ records the place where the city may-pole, or _shaft,_ was erected, and _shaft alley_ the place where it lay when it was not required for use. the proclamation of james i., called the "book of sports," which was renewed by king charles i., throws some light upon the sports in vogue during his reign. it was enacted "for his good people's lawful recreation, after the end of divine service, that his good people be not disturbed, or discouraged, from any lawful recreation, such as dancing for men and women, archery for men, leaping, vaulting, or any such harmless recreations; nor from having may games, whitsun ales, and morris dances, and the setting up of may-poles, and other sports therewith used, so as the same be had in due and convenient time, without impediment or neglect of divine service. and that women shall have leave to carry rushes to the church for the decorating of it, according to their old custom. but withal his majesty doth hereby account still as prohibited all unlawful games to be used on sundays only, as bear and bull-baiting, interludes, and at all times in the meaner sort of people by law prohibited, bowling." why his majesty should have been so very severe on the game of bowls, which is a very ancient pastime, and innocent enough, is not at first quite clear; but it appears that the numerous bowling-alleys in london were, in the sixteenth century, the resorts of very bad company, and the nests of gambling and vice. hence the severity of king james' strictures on bowling. the people of lancashire in the time of james i. were as devoted to sports and amusement as they are now; and when the king was making a progress through lancashire, "he received a petition from some servants, labourers, mechanics, and other vulgar persons, complaining that they were debarred from dancing, playing, church-ales--in a word, from all recreations on sundays after divine service." king james hated puritanism and loved recreation; so he readily granted the petition of the lancashire folk, and issued a proclamation encouraging sunday pastimes, which is known as the famous "book of sports." in ireland on may day bale-fires are lighted, and to this day young men jump through the flames, and children are passed across the embers, in order to secure them good luck during the coming year. on this day, too, the irish kings are supposed to rise from their graves and gather together a ghostly army of rude warriors to fight for their country. the wild cries of the shadowy host, the clashing of shields, and the sound of drums are said to have been heard during the period of the last rebellion in ireland. on one of the rogation days, or on ascension day, it was the custom to go in procession round the boundaries of the parish to ask god's blessing on the fruits of the earth, and as there were few maps and divisions of land, to call to mind and pass on to the next generation the boundaries of the township or village. the choir sang hymns, and under certain trees, which were called gospel trees, the clergyman read the gospel for the day, with a litany and prayers. sometimes boys were whipped, or bumped against trees, or thrown into a river, in order to impress upon them where the boundaries were. but they received a substantial recompense afterwards, and the whole company, when the procession was over, sat down to the perambulation dinner, and talked about their recollections of former days. the advantages of this practice are set forth in george herbert's description of a country parson. he says, "the country parson is a lover of old customs, if they be good and harmless. particularly he loves procession, and maintains it, because there are contained in it four manifest advantages, . a blessing of god for the fruits of the earth. . justice in the preservation of bounds. . charity, in loving, walking, and neighbourly accompanying one another, with reconciling of differences at that time, if there be any. . mercy, in relieving the poor by a liberal distribution and largess, which at that time is, or ought to be, used. wherefore he exacts of all to be present at the perambulation, and those that withdraw and sever themselves from it he mislikes, and rebukes as uncharitable and unneighbourly; and if they will not reform, presents them" (_i.e._ to the bishop for censure). this custom is still preserved, or has been revived, in many parishes, and at oxford the boys may be seen on ascension day bearing white willow-wands, and beating the bounds of some of the old city parishes. chapter vi. june. "the woods, or some near town that is a neighbour to the bordering down, hath drawn them thither, 'bout some lusty sport, or spiced wassel-bowl, to which resort all the young men and maids of many a cote, whilst the trim minstrell strikes his merry note." fletcher, _the faithful shepherdess_. whitsuntide sports--church-ales--church-house--quarter-staff --whistling and jingling matches--st. john's eve--wrestling. after may day our villagers had not long to wait until the whitsuntide holiday came round. this holiday was notorious for the "church-ales," which were held at this season. these feasts were a means of raising money for charitable purposes. if the church needed a new roof, or some poor people were in sad straits, the villagers would decide to have a "church-ale"; generally four times a year the feast was given, and always at whitsuntide. the churchwardens bought, and received presents of, a large quantity of malt, which they brewed into beer, and sold to the company, and any inhabitant of the parish who did not attend had to pay a fine. every one who was able contributed something to the entertainment. the feast was held in the church-house, a building which stood near the church. this was the scene of many social gatherings, and is thus described by an old writer-- "in every parish was a church-house, to which belonged spits, crocks, and other utensils for dressing provisions. here the housekeepers met. the young people were there, too, and had dancing, bowling, shooting at butts, &c., the ancients (_i.e._ the old folk) sitting gravely by and looking on. all things were civil, and without scandal. the church-ale is, doubtless, derived from the agapai or love feasts, mentioned in the new testament." whether the learned writer was right in his conjecture we cannot be quite certain, but church-ales subsequently degenerated into something quite different from new testament injunctions, and were altogether prohibited on account of the excess to which they gave rise. let us hope that all these feasts were not so bad as they were represented, and indeed in early times great reverence was attached to them, which prevented excess. the neighbours, too, would come in from the adjoining parishes and share the feast. an arbour of boughs was erected in the churchyard, called robin hood's bower, where the maidens collected money for the "ales" in the same way which they employed at hock-tide, and which was called "hocking." the old books of st. lawrence's church, reading (to which i have before referred), contain a record of this custom--" a.d. item. received of the maidens' gathering at whitsuntide by the tree at the church door, ij^s. vi^d." the morris-dancers and minstrels, the ballad-singers and players, were in great force on these occasions, and were entertained at the cost of the parish. in the churchwardens' account of st. mary's, reading, we find in the year -- "item--paid to morris-dancers and the minstrels, meat and drink at whitsuntide--iii^s. iiii^d." when the feasting had ended, archery, running races in sacks, grinning through a horse-collar (each competitor trying to make the most ludicrous grimaces), afforded amusement to the light-hearted spectators. the game of quarter-staff is an old pastime which was a great favourite among the rustics of berkshire. the quarter-staff is a tough piece of wood about eight feet long, which the player grasped in the middle with one hand, while with the other he kept a loose hold midway between the middle and one end. the object of the game was, to use the forcible language of the time, to "break the head" of the opponent. on the white horse hill, where alfred fought against the danes, and carved out on the hill-side the white horse as a memorial of his victory, many a rural sport has been played, and at the periodical "scourings of the horse" many a berkshire head broken to see who was the noted champion of the game. an old parishioner of mine, james of sandhurst, was once the hero of quarter-staff in the early part of the century. the whistling match was not so dangerous a contest; the prize was conferred upon the whistler who could whistle clearest, and go through his tune while a clown, or merry-andrew, made laughable grimaces before him. [illustration: quarter-staff.] another diversion common at these country gatherings was the jingling match. a large circle was inclosed with ropes, in which the players took their place. all were blindfolded with the exception of one, who was the jingler, and who carried a bell in each hand, which he was obliged to keep ringing. his object was to elude the pursuit of his blinded companions, and he won the prize if he was still free when the play ceased. it was an amusing sight to see the men trying to catch the active jingler, running into each other's arms, and catching every one but the right one. when the jingling match was over, a pig with a short, well-soaped tail was turned out for the people to run after, and he who could hold it by the tail without touching any other part obtained it for his pains. there was also a game called pigeon-holes, which appears to have been somewhat similar to our present game of bagatelle. and so with laughter and with song the feast ended, the evening shadows fell around, and the happy rustics retired to their humble thatched-roofed homes. the proceeds of these church-ales were often considerable. "there were no rates for the poor in my grandfather's time," says one writer, "the church-ale of whitsuntide did the business"; and whether the parishioners had to pay a tax for the support of the king's army, or to repair the church, or to maintain some orphan children, it was generally found "that something still remained to cover the bottom of the purse." of the "mysteries," or miracle plays, as they were called, which were performed in towns on corpus christi day and at other times, i propose to write in another chapter; and we will now proceed to the hillsides near our villages on the eve of st. john's day, when we should witness the lighting of large bonfires, and some curious customs connected with that ceremony. both the old and the young people used to sally forth from the village to some neighbouring height, and there, amidst much laughter and with many a shout, they lighted the large bonfire. then they danced round the blazing logs, and afterwards leaped through the flames, and at the close of the ceremony each person brought away with him a burning branch. this rite appears to have been a relic of paganism. probably the fire was originally lighted in honour of the sun, which our forefathers worshipped before they became christians. the leaping through the flames had also a superstitious meaning, and the simple people thought that in this way they could ward off evil spirits and prevent sickness. the roman shepherds used to leap through the midsummer blaze in honour of pales. the scandinavians lit their bonfires in honour of their gods odin and thor, and the leaping through the flames reminds us of the worshippers of baal and moloch, who, as we read in the bible, used to "pass their children through the fire" in awe of their cruel god. st. john's day, or midsummer day (june th), was chosen because on that day the sun reaches its highest point in the zodiac. there is, however, another interpretation of the meaning of the fires on st. john's day, as illustrating the verse which speaks of him "as a burning and a shining light" (st. john v. ); but this interpretation was probably invented by some pious divine who endeavoured to attach a christian meaning to an ancient heathen custom. the connection of the ceremony with the old worship of the sun is indisputable. its practice was very general in nearly all european nations, and in not very remote times from norway to the shores of the mediterranean the glow of st. john's fires might have been seen. the emperor charlemagne in the ninth century forbade the custom as a heathen rite, but the church endeavoured to win over the custom from its pagan associations and to attach to it a christian signification. in the island of jersey the older inhabitants used to light fires under large iron pots full of water, in which they placed silver articles--as spoons, mugs, &c., and then knocked the silver against the iron with the idea of scaring away all evil spirits.[ ] sometimes bones were burnt in the fire, for we are told in a quaint homily on the feast of st. john baptist, that bones scared away the evil spirits in the air, since "wise clerks know well that dragons hate nothing more than the stink of burning bones, and therefore the country folk gather as many as they might find, and burned them; and so with the stench thereof they drove away the dragons, and so they were brought out of great disease." in some most remote northern parts of england the farmer lights a wisp of straw, which he carries round his fields to protect them from the tare and darnel, the devil and witches. in some places they used to cover a wheel with straw, set it on fire, and roll it down a hill. a learned writer on antiquities tells us that the people imagined that all their ill-luck rolled away from them together with this burning wheel. all these customs are relics of the old fire and sun worship, to which our forefathers were addicted. wrestling, running races, and dancing were afterwards practised by the villagers. wrestling is a very ancient sport, and the men of cornwall and devon, of westmoreland and cumberland, were famous for their skill. a "cornish hug" is by no means a tender embrace. sometimes the people bore back to their homes boughs of trees, with which they adorned their doors and windows. at oxford the quadrangle of magdalen college was decorated with boughs on st. john's day, and a sermon preached from the stone pulpit in the corner of the quadrangle; this was meant to represent the preaching of st. john the baptist in the wilderness. at length the villagers, wearied with their exertions, retire to their cottage homes, marching in procession from the scene of their observances; and silence reigns o'er the village for a few short hours, till the sunlight summons them to their daily toil. chapter vii. july. "swift o'er the mead with lightning speed the bounding ball flies on; and hark! the cries of victory rise for the gallant team that's won." cricket--club-ball--trap-ball--golf--pall-mall--tennis-- rush-bearing. at this time of the year all the cricket-clubs in town and village are very busy, and matches are being played everywhere. it may not therefore be inappropriate if i tell you in this chapter of the history of that game which has become so universally popular wherever our countrymen live. on the plains of india, in australia (as some of our english cricketers have learnt to their cost), in egypt, wherever englishmen go, there cricket finds a home and a hearty welcome. but it is not nearly so ancient a game as others which i have already mentioned, although it had some fairly old parents, simple and humble-minded folk, who would have been greatly astonished to see the extraordinary development of their precocious offspring. kent and sussex were the ancestral homes of cricket, which is thus described by an old writer--"a game most usual in kent, with a cricket-ball bowled and struck with two cricket-bats between two wickets. the name is derived from the saxon word _cryc_, baculus, a bat or staff; which also signifies fulcimentum, a support or prop, whence a cricket or little stool to sit upon. cricket play among the saxons was also called _stef-plege_ (staff-play)." i fear that our old writer must have made a great mistake if he imagined that the saxons ever played cricket, and i believe that the word was not known before the sixteenth century. in the records of guildford we find that a dispute arose about the enclosure of a piece of land in the time of elizabeth; and in the suit that arose one john derrick stated in his evidence that he knew the place well "for fifty years or more, and that when he was a scholar in the free school at guildford he and several of his companions did run and play there at cricket and other plays." also in cotgrave's french dictionary, published in , the word _crosse_ is translated "a cricket-staff, or the crooked-staff wherewith boys play at cricket." in the eighteenth century allusions to the game become more frequent, although it was still a boy's game. it had its poet, who sang-- "hail, cricket, glorious, manly, british game, first of all sports, be first alike in fame." it had its calumniators, who said that it "propagated a spirit of idleness" in bad times, when people ought to work and not play, and that it encouraged gambling. but the game began to prosper, and several noted men, poets and illustrious statesmen, recall the pleasurable memories of their prowess with the bat and ball. in a book of songs called _pills to purge melancholy_, published in , we find the verse-- "he was the prettiest fellow at football or at cricket: at hunting chase or nimble race how featly he could prick it." in the early part of the eighteenth century the game was in a very rudimentary condition, very different from the scientific pastime it has since become. there were only two wickets, a foot high and two feet apart, with one long bail at the top. between the wickets there was a hole large enough to contain the ball, and when the batsman made a run, he had to place the end of his bat in this hole before the wicket-keeper could place the ball there, otherwise he would be "run out." the bat, too, was a curved, crooked arrangement very different from our present weapon. the hambledon club, in hampshire, which has produced some famous players, seems to have been mainly instrumental in reforming and improving the game. its members introduced a limit to the width of the bat, viz., four and a quarter inches--the standard still in force--in order to prevent players, such as a hero from reigate, bringing bats as wide as the wicket. in they wisely introduced a middle stump, as they found the best balls harmlessly flying between the wide wickets. it was feared lest this alteration would shorten the game too much, but it does not seem to have had that effect, as in an all england match against the hambledon club, two years later, one aylward scored runs, and stayed in two whole days. england owes much to the old club at hambledon for the improvements which it wrought in the game, which has become our great national pastime. miss mitford, in her charming book, _our village_, describes the rivalry which existed between the village elevens at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and gives a sketch of a match between two berkshire village teams, which brought about some very happy results of a romantic nature. she tells us, too, of the comments of the rustics on the "new-fashioned" style of bowling which one of the team had introduced from london, which did not at all commend itself to them, but effectually took their wickets. when that celebrated company of cricketers, dressed in frock-coats and tall hats, whose portraits adorn many a pavilion, competed for the honour of all england, they were quite ignorant of "round-arm" bowling, which is, of course, an invention of modern times. only "lobs," or "under-hands," were the order of the day. it has been stated that we are indebted to the ladies for the important discovery of the modern style of delivering the ball. the story may be legendary, but i have read somewhere that the elder lillywhite used to practise cricket all through the winter, and that his daughters used to bowl to him. during the bitter cold of a winter's day they wore their shawls, and found it more convenient to bowl with extended arms than in the old method. their balls so delivered used to puzzle their father, and often take his wicket; so he began to imitate them, and introduced his new method into matches, and thus the age of round-arm bowling was inaugurated. i cannot vouch for the truth of the story, and only tell it as it was told to me.[ ] at any rate lillywhite was the father of modern bowling, which would have startled and considerably puzzled the veteran cricketers in the early part of the present century. the proper parent of cricket seems to have been club-ball, which is a very old game, and of which there is a picture in the bodleian library at oxford, dated a.d. it represents a female throwing a ball to a man who is in the act of raising his bat to strike it. behind the woman, at a little distance, appear several other figures of men and women waiting attentively to catch or stop the ball when hit by the batsman. there is a still more ancient picture of two club-ball players, representing the batsman holding the ball also and preparing to hit it, while the other player holds his hands in readiness to catch the ball. he has the appearance of a very careful fielder. here we have the rudimentary idea of cricket; but how they scored their game, what rules they had, we cannot determine. stool-ball claims also to be an ancestor of cricket, and consists in one player defending a stool with his hand from being hit by a ball bowled by another player. here is a simple form of the modern game, the stool being used as a wicket, and the hand for a bat. trap-ball is a much older game than cricket, and can be traced to the beginning of the fourteenth century. the modern game differs little from that which the old pictures describe, except in the shape of the trap which holds the ball. but the most ancient of all games of this nature is golf, or goff (as it used to be spelt), which was played with a crooked club or staff, sometimes called a bandy. scotsmen are very fond of this game, which has lately migrated into england and found many admirers. it was probably introduced into scotland from holland, and was a popular pastime as early as . in spite of proclamations encouraging archery, and forbidding golf, it continued to flourish; it has a long list of royal patrons; and the stuart monarchs seem to have been as enthusiastic over the game as all true golfers ought to be. poets have sung the praises of golf, and the glory of the heroes who drove their balls along st. andrew's links, or those of east neuk. the object of the game is to drive the ball into certain holes in the fewest number of strokes. james ii. was an expert golfer, and had only one rival, an edinburgh shoemaker, named paterson. [illustration: pall-mall.] if you have visited london you will probably have walked along the street called pall mall, which name is derived from an old game fashionable in the reign of charles ii. the merry monarch and his courtiers frequently amused themselves with this game, which somewhat resembled golf, and consisted in driving a ball by means of a mallet through an iron hoop suspended from the ground in the fewest blows. the game was played in st. james's park, where the street which bears its name now runs. tennis also has a history. it commenced its career as hand-ball, the ball being driven backwards and forwards with the palm of the hand. then the players used gloves, and afterwards bound cords round their hands to make the ball rebound more forcibly. here we have the primitive idea of a racket. france seems to have been the original home of tennis, which in the thirteenth century was played in unenclosed spaces; but in the fourteenth it migrated to the towns, and walls enclosed the motions of the ball. in paris alone there were said to be eighteen hundred tennis-courts. in the sixteenth century there were several covered tennis-courts in england, and some of our english monarchs were very devoted to the game. henry vii. used to play tennis, and there is a record of his having lost twelvepence at tennis, and threepence for the loss of balls. henry viii. was also very fond of the game, and lost much money at wagers with certain frenchmen; but, like a sensible man, "when he perceived their craft he eschewed their company, and let them go." he built the famous court at hampton, which still remains. charles ii. also played tennis. the old game is very different from the modern lawn-tennis which is now so popular: it was always the game of the select few, and not of the many, like its precocious offspring; and there are only thirty-one tennis-courts in england at the present day. the court attached to the palace of the french king louis xvi. at versailles was the scene of some very exciting meetings in the early days of the french revolution in . [illustration: pall-mall.] [illustration: tennis.] there were some other forms of ball-play, such as balloon-ball, stow-ball, &c.; but of these it is hardly needful for me to speak, as they are only varieties of those games which i have already described. the history of football has been narrated in a preceding chapter. you will be able to trace from the descriptions of these old sports the ancestors of our noble game of cricket, and wonder at the extraordinary development of so scientific a game from such rude and simple beginnings. the floors of the houses and churches of old england consisted simply of the hard, dry earth, which the people covered with rushes; and once a year there was a great ceremony called "rush-bearing," when the inhabitants of each village or town went in procession to the church to strew the floor with newly-cut rushes. the company went to a neighbouring marsh and cut the rushes, binding them in long bundles, and decorating them with ribands and flowers. then a procession was formed, every one bearing a bundle of rushes; and with music, drums, and ringing of bells they marched to the church, and strewed the floor with their honoured burdens. long after the rushes ceased to be used in churches the ceremony was continued, and i have witnessed a rush-bearing procession such as i have described. there was a rush-cart with a large pile of decorated rush-sheaves, and some characters from the may-day games were introduced. a queen sat under a canopy of rushes, a few morris-dancers performed their antics, and a jester amused the spectators with his quaint sayings. a village feast, followed by dancing round a may-pole, generally formed the conclusion of the day's festivities. in this pleasant custom was revived at grasmere in the lake district, when the children of the village carried out a "rush-bearing" after the manner of their forefathers, and the village green again resounded with songs of joy. i fear that our ancestors were not always very cleanly people; they seldom washed their floors, and therefore they were obliged to adopt some device to hide their uncleanliness. the old rushes were not taken away before the new ones were brought in; hence the lowest layer became filthy, and one writer attributes the frequent pestilences which often broke out to the dirtiness of their floors and the masses of filthy rushes lying upon them. perhaps some of the wise folks in lancashire discovered this, for we find the following entry in the account books of kirkham church, --"paid for carrying the rushes out of the church in the sickness time, ._s_. _d_." straw was used in winter: it would seem very strange to us to have our floors covered with straw, like a stable! in this matter of cleanliness we have certainly improved upon the habits of our forefathers: dirty cottages are the exception, and not the rule, as they were in the days of "good queen bess"; and the absence of those terrible plagues which used to devastate our land in former times is due in a great measure to the improved cleanliness and more careful regard for sanitation by the people of england. chapter viii. august. "crowned with the ears of corn, now come, and to the pipe sing harvest home. come forth, my lord, and see the cart dressed up with all the country art: the horses, mares, and frisking fillies clad all in linen white as lilies. the harvest swains and wenches bound for joy, to see the hock-cart crowned." herrick's _hesperides_. lammas day--st. roch's day--harvest-home--"ten-pounding"-- sheep-shearing--"wakes"--fairs. the harvest fields have begun to ripen, and the corn will soon be ready for the sickle; of this fact our forefathers were reminded by the lammas festival, which was celebrated on the first of this month. _lammas_ is a shortened form of the word loaf-mass, or feast of the loaf. a loaf of bread was made of the first-ripe corn, and used in holy communion on this day; so this feast was a preliminary harvest thanksgiving festival--a feast of "first-fruits," such as the jews were commanded in the old mosaic law to observe. when the harvest was gathered in there were great festivities, and it has been thought that august th, st. roch's day, was generally observed as the harvest-home. st. roch, or roque, was a frenchman, who lived in the early part of the fourteenth century, and was supposed to have performed miraculous cures, but august th seems to have been rather early in the year for a harvest-home. however, when the feast of ingathering did take place, there were great rejoicings in our english villages, and the mode of its celebration helped to knit together the masters and labourers, and to promote good feeling between them. when the fields were almost cleared of the golden grain, the last few sheaves were decorated with flowers and ribbons, and brought home in a waggon, called the "hock-cart," while the labourers, their wives and children, carrying green boughs, sheaves of wheat and rude flags, formed a glad procession. all the pipes and tabors in the village sounded, and shouts of laughter and of song were raised as the glad procession marched along. they sang-- "harvest-home, harvest-home, we have ploughed, we have sowed, we have reaped, we have mowed, we have brought home every load. hip, hip, hip, harvest-home!" or, as they say in berkshire-- "whoop, whoop, whoop, harvest whoam!" sometimes the most comely maiden in the village was chosen as harvest queen, and placed upon her throne at the top of the sheaves in the hock-cart as it was drawn homewards to the farm. [illustration: harvest-home.] the rustics receive a hearty welcome at their master's house, where they find the fuelled chimney blazing wide, and the strong table groaning beneath the smoking sirloin-- "mutton, veal, and bacon, which makes full the meal, with several dishes standing by, as here a custard, there a pie, and here all-tempting frumenty." frumenty, which is made of wheat boiled in milk was a standing dish at every harvest supper. and then around the festive board old tales are told, well-known jests abound, and thanks given to the good farmer and his wife for their hospitality in some such homely rhymes as these-- "here's a health to our master, the lord of the feast; god bless his endeavours, and send him increase. "may everything prosper that he takes in hand, for we be his servants, and do his command." the youths and maidens dance their country dances, as an old writer, who lived in the reign of charles ii., tells us:--"the lad and the lass will have no lead on their heels. o, 'tis the merry time wherein honest neighbours make good cheer, and god is glorified in his blessings on the earth." when the feast is over, the company retire to some near hillock, and make the welkin ring with their shouts, "holla, holla, holla, largess!"--largess being the presents of money and good things which the farmer had bestowed. such was the harvest-home in the good old days--joy and delight to both old and young. the toils of the labourers did not seem so hard and wearisome when they knew that the farmers had such a grateful sense of their good services; and if any one felt aggrieved or discontented, the mutual intercourse at the harvest-home, when all were equal, when all sat at the same table and conversed freely together, soon banished all ill-feeling, and promoted a sense of mutual trust, which is essential to the happiness and well-being of any community. shorn of much of its merriment and quaint customs, the harvest-home still lingers on in some places; but modern habits and notions have deprived it of much of its old spirit and light-heartedness. we have our harvest thanksgiving services, which (thank god!) are observed in almost every village and hamlet. it is, of course, our first duty to thank god for the fruits of his bounty and love; but the harvest-home should not be forgotten. when labourers simply regard harvest-time as a season when they can earn a few shillings more than usual, and take no further interest in their work, or in the welfare of their master, all brightness vanishes from their industry: their minds become sordid and mercenary; and mutual trust, good-feeling, and fellowship cease to exist. neither did the harvest-men allow drunkenness, laziness, swearing, quarrelling, nor lying, to go unpunished. the labourers in suffolk, if they found one of their number guilty, would hold a court-martial among themselves, lay the culprit down on his face, and an executioner would administer several hard blows with a shoe studded with hob-nails. this was called "ten-pounding," and must have been very effectual in checking any of the above delinquencies. besides the harvest-home there was also observed another feast of a similar character in the spring, when the sheep were shorn. a plentiful dinner was given by the farmer to the shearers and their friends, and a table was often set in the open village for the young people and children. tusser, who wrote a book upon _five hundred points of husbandry_, did not forget the treats which ought to be given to the labourers, and alludes to the sheep-shearing festival in the following lines-- "wife, make us a dinner; spare flesh, neither corn, make wafers and cakes, for our sheep must be shorn; at sheep-shearing, neighbours none other things crave, but good cheer and welcome like neighbours to have." we have in many villages and towns a feast called "the wakes," which is one of the oldest of our english festivals. the day of "the wakes" is the festival of the saint to whom the parish church is dedicated, and it is so called because, on the previous night, or vigil, the people used to watch, or "wake," in the church till the morning dawned. it was the custom for the inhabitants of the parish to keep open house on that day, and to entertain all their relations and friends who came to them from a distance. in early times the people used to make booths and tents with the boughs of trees near to the church, and were directed to celebrate the feast in them with thanksgiving and prayer. by degrees they began to forget their prayers, and remembered only the feasting, and other abuses crept in, so at last the "waking" on the eve of the festival was suppressed. but these primitive feasts were the origin of most of our fairs, which are generally held on the dedication festival of the parish church.[ ] the neighbours from the adjoining villages used to attend the wakes, so the peddlers and hawkers came to find a market for their wares. their stalls began to multiply, until at last an immense fair sprang into existence, which owed its origin entirely to the religious festival of "the wakes." fairs have degenerated like many other good things, and we can hardly realize their vastness in the middle ages. the circuit of a fair sometimes was very great, and it would have been impossible in those days to carry on the trade of the country without them. the great stourbridge fair, near cambridge, i have described in my former book on _english villages_. the booths were planted in a cornfield, and the circuit of the fair, which was one of the largest in europe, was over three miles. all kinds of sports were held on these occasions: plays, comedies, tragedies, bull-baiting, &c., and king james was very wroth with the undergraduates of cambridge who would insist upon frequenting stourbridge fair rather than attend to their studies. the "wakes," or village feast, was a great day for all sports and pastimes. a writer in the _spectator_ describes the "country wake" which he witnessed at bath. the green was covered with a crowd of all ages and both sexes, decked out in holiday attire, and divided into several parties, "all of them endeavouring to show themselves in those exercises wherein they excelled." in one place there was a ring of cudgel-players, in another a football match, in another a ring of wrestlers. the prize for the men was a hat, and for the women, who had their own contests, a smock. running and leaping also found a place in the programme. in berkshire back-sword play and wrestling were the favourite amusements for vigorous youths, and men strove hard to win the honour of being champion and the prizes which were offered on the occasion. there were "cheap jacks," and endless booths containing all kinds of fairings, ribands, gingerbread cakes, and shows, with huge pictures hung outside of giants and wild indians, pink-eyed ladies, live lions, and deformities of all kinds. there were minor sports, such as climbing the pole, jumping in sacks, rolling wheelbarrows blindfolded, donkey races, muzzling in a flour-tub, &c.; but the back-sword play was the chief and most serious part of the programme. a good sound ash-stick with a large basket handle was the weapon used, very similar to, but heavier and shorter than an ordinary single-stick. the object is to "break the head" of the opponent-- _i.e._ to cause blood to flow anywhere above the eyebrow. a slight blow will often accomplish this, so the game is not so savage as it appears to be. the play took place on a stage of rough planks about four feet high. each player was armed with a stick, looping the fingers of his left hand in a handkerchief or strap, which he fastened round his left leg, measuring the length, so that when he drew it tight with his left elbow up he had a perfect guard for the left side of his head.[ ] guarding his head with the stick in his right hand, he advanced, and then the fight began; fast and furious came the blows, until at last a red streak on the temple of one of the combatants declared his defeat. the _reading mercury_ of may , , advertised the rural sports at peppard, when the not very magnificent prize of eighteenpence was offered to every man who broke a head at cudgel-play, and a shilling to every one who had his head broken. such was the sport which our old berkshire rustics delighted in. back-sword play, wrestling, and other pastimes made them a hardy race, full of courage, and developed qualities which it is hoped their descendants have not altogether lost. the gallant berkshire regiment, which fought so bravely at maiwand, is composed of the sons of those who used to wield the back-sword on the berkshire downs, and showed themselves not unworthy of their ancestry, although the quarter-staff and ashen-swords are forgotten. the old village feasts are forgotten too--more's the pity. then old quarrels were healed, old bitternesses removed: aged friends met, and became young again in heart, as they revived old memories and sweet recollections of youthful days. rich and poor, the squire and the farmer, the farmer and his labourers, all mingled together, class with class; and good-fellowship, harmony, and mutual confidence were promoted by these annual gatherings. it is true that these village feasts degenerated, because the well-to-do folk abstained from them; but would it not be possible to revive them, to preserve the good which they certainly did, and to eliminate the evil which is so often mingled with the good? such a consideration is worthy of the attention of all who have the welfare of the people at heart. chapter ix. september. "nor is there hawk which mantleth her on pearch, whether high tow'ring or accoasting low, but i the measure of her flight do search, and all her prey, and all her diet know."--spenser. hawking--michaelmas--bull and bear-baiting. of all old english sports hawking is one of the most ancient and the most fashionable. it has almost died out now, but there are one or two hawking enthusiasts who have endeavoured to revive this old english pastime, and on the berkshire downs a hawking party was seen a few years ago. hawking consists in the training and flying of hawks for the purpose of catching other birds. kings and noblemen, barons and ladies of feudal times, used to delight in following the sport on horseback, and to watch their favourite birds towering high to gain the upward flights in order to swoop down upon some heron, crane, or wild duck, and bear it to the ground. persons of high rank always carried their hawks with them wherever they went, and in old paintings the hawk upon the wrist of a portrait was the sign of noble birth. the sport was practised by our saxon forefathers before the normans came, and the first trained hawk in england is said to have been sent by st. boniface, the "apostle of the germans," as a present to ethelbert, king of kent, in the eighth century. the history of the sport of the kings who loved to take part in it, and of their adventures, would require a volume, and my space only allows me to give you a brief account of the manner in which the sport was conducted. i may mention that before the reign of king john only kings and noblemen were allowed to take part in hawking; but in the forest charter, which that monarch was compelled to sign, every freeman was permitted to have his own hawks and falcons. the falconer, who took care of the hawks, was a very important person. the chief falconer of the king of france received four thousand florins a year, besides a tax upon every hawk sold in the kingdom. the welsh princes assigned the fourth place of honour in their courts to this officer; but this proud distinction had its responsibilities, and this high official was only allowed to take three draughts from his horn, lest his brain should not be as clear as it ought to be, and the precious birds might be neglected. sometimes the hawking party went on foot, carrying long poles to enable them to jump the ditches and to follow the course. henry viii. nearly lost his life on one occasion through falling (his pole having broken) into a bog, from which he was rescued by one john moody, who happened to see the accident. but mounted on gallant steeds the lords and ladies were accustomed to follow their favourite pastime, and amid the blowing of horns and laughter and shoutings they rode along, galloping up-hill and down-hill, with their eyes fixed upon the birds, which were battling or chasing each other high overhead. the hawk did not always win the fight: sometimes a crafty heron would turn his long bill upwards just as the hawk was descending upon him, and pierce his antagonist through the body. great skill and perseverance were required in training these birds. when they were not flying after their prey, they were hoodwinked, _i.e._ their heads were covered with caps, which were often finely embroidered. on their legs they had strings of leather, called _jesses_, with rings attached. when a hawk was being trained, a long thread was fastened to these rings to draw the bird back again, but when it was well educated, it would obey the voice of the falconer and return when it had performed its flight. it was necessary for the bird to know its master very intimately, so a devoted follower of the sport would always carry his hawk about with him, and the two were as inseparable as a highland shepherd and his dog. the sportsman would feed his bird and train it daily, and in an old book of directions he is advised "at night to go to the mews, and take it from its perch, and set it on his fist, and bear it all the night," in order to be ready for the morrow's sport. [illustration: a falconer.] the mews were the buildings where the hawks were kept when moulting, the word "mew" being a term used by falconers to signify to moult, or cast feathers; and the king's mews, near charing cross, was the place where the royal hawks were kept. this place was afterwards enlarged, and converted into stables for horses; but the old name remained, and now most stables in london are called mews, although the word is derived from falconry, and the hawks have long since flown away. the sport declined at the end of the seventeenth century, when shooting with guns became general, but our language has preserved some traces of this ancient pastime. when a person is blinded by deceit, he is said to be "hoodwinked," and this word is derived from the custom of placing a hood over the hawk's eyes before it was released from restraint. on the feast of st. michael, or michaelmas, the tenants were in the habit of bringing presents of a fat goose to their landlord, in order to make him kind and lenient in the matters of rent, repairs, and the renewal of leases, and the noble landlords used to entertain their tenants right royally in the great halls of their ancestral mansions, roast goose forming a standing dish of the repast. this is probably the origin of the custom which prevails at the present time of eating geese at michaelmas. when the harvest was over, and the farmers were not so busy, they often amused themselves by the cruel sport of baiting a bull. an old gentleman who lived at wokingham was so fond of this savage pastime that he left in his will a sum of money for the purpose of providing every year two bulls to be baited for the amusement of the people of his native town. the bulls are still bought, but they are put to death in a more merciful manner, and the meat given to the poor. amongst the hills in yorkshire there is a small village, through which a brook runs, crossed by two bridges, and having a stone wall on each side. thus, when the bridges were stopped up, there was formed a wall-encircled space, into which, once a year, at least, a poor bull was placed, to be worried to death by dogs, and within the memory of men now living this cruel sport has been carried on. nor was this only a sport for ignorant rustics; kings and noble courtiers, and even ladies, used to frequent the bear-gardens of the metropolis, and witness with delight the slaughter of bulls, and bears, and dogs. erasmus tells us that in the reign of henry viii. "many herds of bears were maintained in this country for the purpose of baiting." queen elizabeth commanded bears, bulls, and the ape to be baited in her presence, and james i. was not averse to the sight. the following is a description of this barbarous entertainment--"there is a place built in the form of a theatre, which serves for baiting of bulls and bears. they are fastened behind, and then worried by great english bull-dogs; but not without risk to the dogs from the horns of the one and the teeth of the other." even horses were sometimes baited, and sometimes asses. evelyn, in his _diary_, thus describes the strange sight--"june th, . i went with some friends to the bear-garden, where was cock-fighting, dog-fighting, bear and bull-baiting, it being a famous day for all these butcherly sports, or rather barbarous cruelties. the bulls did exceedingly well, but the irish wolf-dog exceeded, which was a tall greyhound, a stately creature indeed, who beat a cruel mastiff. one of the bulls tossed a dog full into a lady's lap, as she sat in one of the boxes at a considerable height from the arena. two poor dogs were killed, and so all ended with the ape on horseback, and i most heartily weary of the rude and dirty pastime, which i had not seen, i think, in twenty years before." foreigners, who have visited england in by-gone times, often allude scornfully to our forefathers' barbarous diversions; but on the whole they seem rather to have enjoyed the sport. a spanish nobleman was taken to see a poor pony baited with an ape fastened on its back; and he wrote--"to see the animal kicking amongst the dogs, with the screams of the ape, beholding the curs hanging from the ears and neck of the pony, is very laughable!" but enough has been said of these terrible and monstrous cruelties. happily for us they no longer exist, and together with cock-fighting, throwing at cocks and hens, and other barbarous amusements, cannot now be reckoned among our sports and pastimes. it was a happy thing for us when the conscience of the nation was aroused, and the law stepped in to put an end to such disgraceful scenes which were witnessed in the paris garden at southwark, or in the rude bull-run of a yorkshire village. the society for the prevention of cruelty to animals was not known in the days of bear-baiting and cock-throwing. chapter x. october. "rivet well each coat of mail; blows shall fall like showers of hail; merrily the harness rings, of tilting lists and tournay sings, honour to the valiant brings. clink, clink, clink!"--_armourers' chorus_. tournaments--_mysteries_--_moralities_--_pageants_. in the days of chivalry, when gallant knights used to ride about in search of adventures; and when there were many wars, battles, and crusades, martial exercises were the chief amusements of the people of england. we have already mentioned some of these sports in which the humbler folk used to show their strength and dexterity, and now i propose to tell you of those wonderful trials of military skill called tournaments, which were the favourite pastimes of the noblemen and gentry of england in the middle ages, and afforded much amusement to their poorer neighbours who flocked to see these gallant feats of arms. tournaments were fights in miniature, in which the combatants fought simply to exhibit their strength and prowess. there was a great deal of pomp and ceremony attached to them. the lists, as the barriers were called which inclosed the scene of combat, were superbly decorated, and surrounded by pavilions belonging to the champions, ornamented with their arms and banners. the seats reserved for the noble ladies and gentlemen who came to see the fight were hung with tapestry embroidered with gold and silver. everyone was dressed in the most sumptuous manner: the minstrels and heralds were clothed in the costliest garments; the knights who were engaged in the sports and their horses were most gorgeously arrayed. the whole scene was one of great splendour and magnificence, and, when the fight began, the shouts of the heralds who directed the tournament, the clashing of arms, the clang of trumpets, the charging of the combatants, and the shouts of the spectators, must have produced a wonderfully impressive and exciting effect upon all who witnessed the strange spectacle. the regulations and laws of the tournament were very minute. when many preliminary arrangements had been made with regard to the examination of arms and helmets and the exhibition of banners, &c., at ten o'clock on the morning of the appointed day the champions and their adherents were required to be in their places. two cords divided the combatants, who were each armed with a pointless sword and a truncheon hanging from their saddles. when the word was given by the lord of the tournament, the cords were removed, and the champions charged and fought until the heralds sounded the signal to retire. it was considered the greatest disgrace to be unhorsed. a french earl once tried to unhorse our king edward i. when he was returning from palestine, wearied by the journey. the earl threw away his sword, cast his arms around the king's neck, and tried to pull him from his horse. but edward put spurs to his horse and drew the earl from the saddle, and then shaking him violently, threw him to the ground. the joust (or just) differed from tournament, because in the former only lances were used, and only two knights could fight at once. it was not considered quite so important as the grand feat of arms which i have just described, but was often practised when the more serious encounter had finished. lances or spears without heads of iron were commonly used, and the object of the sport was to ride hard against one's adversary and strike him with the spear upon the front of the helmet, so as to beat him backwards from his horse, or break the spear. you will gather from these descriptions that this kind of sport was somewhat dangerous, and that men sometimes lost their lives at these encounters. in order to lessen the risk and danger of the two horses running into each other when the knights charged, a boarded railing was erected in the midst of the lists, about four or five feet high. the combatants rode on separate sides of this barrier, and therefore could not encounter each other except with their lances. [illustration: a tournament.] in the days of chivalry ladies were held in high honour and respect. it was their privilege to assign the prizes to those who had distinguished themselves most in the tournament. they were the arbiters of the sport; and, indeed, the jousts were usually held in honour of the ladies, who received as their right the respect and devotion of all true knights. this respect for women had a softening and ennobling influence, which was of great value in times when such influences were rare. it was probably derived (according to a french writer) from our ancestors, the germans, "who attributed somewhat of divinity to the fair sex." it is the sign of a corrupt age and degraded manners when this respect ceases to be paid. only men of noble family, and who owned land, were allowed to take part in the jousts or tournament; but the yeomen and young farmers used to practise similar kinds of sport, such as tilting at a ring, quintain, and boat jousts, which have already been mentioned in a preceding chapter. richard i., the lion-hearted king, was a great promoter of these martial sports, and appointed five places for the holding of tournaments in england, namely, at some place between salisbury and wilton, between warwick and kenilworth, between stamford and wallingford, between brackley and mixbury, and between blie and tykehill. but in almost every part of england tournaments or jousts have been held, and scenes enacted such as i have described. sometimes two knights would fight in mortal combat. if one knight accused the other of crime or dishonour, the latter might challenge him to fight with swords or lances, and, according to the superstition of the times, the victor was considered to be the one who spoke the truth. but this ordeal combat was far removed from the domain of sport. when jousts and tournaments were abandoned, tilting on horseback at a ring became a favourite courtly amusement. a ring was suspended on a level with the eye of the rider; and the sport consisted in riding towards the ring, and sending the point of a lance through it, and so bearing it away. great skill was required to accomplish this surely and gracefully. ascham, a writer in the sixteenth century, tells us what accomplishments were required from the complete english gentleman of the period. "to ride comely, to run fair at the tilt or ring, to play at all weapons, to shoot fair in bow, or surely in gun; to vault lustily, to run, to leap, to wrestle, to swim, to dance comely, to sing, and play of instruments cunningly; to hawk, to hunt, to play at tennis, and all pastimes generally which be joined to labour, containing either some fit exercises for war, or some pleasant pastime for peace--these be not only comely and decent, but also very necessary for a courtly gentleman to use." the courtly gentleman must have been very industrious to acquire all these numerous accomplishments! there was another form of spectacle which gave great pleasure to our ancestors; and often in the market-places of old towns, or in open fields, at the bottom of natural amphitheatres near some of the ancient monasteries, were scriptural plays performed, which were called _miracles_, or _mysteries_, because they treated of scenes taken from the old or new testament, or from the lives of saints and martyrs. the performances were very simple and often grotesque, but the plays were regarded by the monks, who assisted in these representations, as a means of teaching the people sacred truths. the miracle play of norman and mediæval times was a long, disconnected performance, which often lasted many days. in the reign of henry iv. there was a play which lasted eight days, and, beginning with the creation of the world, contained the greater part of the history of the old and the new testament. the words of the play seem to us strange, and sometimes profane; but they were not thought to be so by those who listened to them. the _mystery_ play only lasted one day, and consisted of one subject, such as _the conversion of st. paul_. _noah and the flood_ was a very popular piece. his wife is represented as being much opposed to the perilous voyage in the ark, and abuses noah very severely for compelling her to go. sometimes the authors thought it necessary to introduce a comic character to enliven the dullness of the performance. but, in spite of humorous demons, these mysteries ceased to attract, and plays called _moralities_ were introduced, in which the actors assumed the parts of personified virtues, &c., and you might have heard "faith" preaching to "prudence," or "death" lecturing "beauty" and "pride." the first miracle play performed in england was that of _st. catherine_, which was acted at dunstable, a.d.; and another early piece was the play called _the image of st. nicholas_. these were of a religious nature and were performed in church during divine service. the following is an outline of the plot of the latter: instead of the image of st. nicholas, which adorned his shrine, a man stood in the garb of the saint whom he represented. the service is divided into two portions, and the play is produced during the interval. a stranger appears at the west door, who is evidently a rich heathen, and lays down his treasures before the image of the saint and beseeches him to take care of them. a band of thieves enter and steal the treasures, and when the heathen returns, he is so enraged that he proceeds to chastise the image of the saint; when lo! the figure descends, marches out of the church, and convinces the thieves of their wickedness. struck with fear on account of the miracle, they restore the treasures, the pagan sings a song of joy, and st. nicholas tells him to worship god, and to praise christ. then, after an act of adoration to the almighty, the service is resumed.[ ] there were also strolling companies of minstrels, jugglers, and jesters, who went about the country, and acted secular pieces composed of comic stories, jokes, and dialogues, interspersed with dancing and tumbling. the whole performance was very absurd and often indecent, and the clergy did their utmost to suppress these strolling companies. the stage upon which the _mysteries_ were played was built on wheels, in order that it might be drawn to different parts of the town. sometimes religious plays were acted in churches before the reformation; but in cornwall the people formed an earthen amphitheatre in some open field, and as the players did not learn their parts very well, a prompter used to follow them about with a book and tell them what to say. coventry, york, wakefield, reading, hull, and leicester were famous for their plays, and in the churchwardens' accounts we find many entries referring to the performances. .--_e.g._ item paid to noah and his wife ... ... xxi^d. " " for a rope to hang the ship in the church ... ii^d. these performances would probably seem very foolish and childish to a modern audience, but they helped to enliven and diversify the lives of our more simple-minded forefathers. the people, too, loved pageants which were performed on great occasions, during a royal progress for instance, or to welcome the advent of some mighty personage. great preparations were made for these exhibitions of rustic talent; long verses were committed to memory; rehearsals were endless, and the stories of greek and roman mythology were ransacked to provide scenes and subjects for the rural pageant. all this must have afforded immense amusement and interest to the country-folk in the neighbourhood of some lord's castle, when the king or queen was expected to sojourn there. shepherds and shepherdesses, gods and goddesses, clowns and mummers, all took part in the play, and it may interest my readers to give an account of one of these pageants, which was performed before queen elizabeth when she visited the ancient and historic castle of sudeley.[ ] the play is founded on the old classical story of apollo and daphne. the sun-god, apollo, was charmed by the beauty of the fair daphne, the daughter of a river-god, and pursued her with base intent. just as she was about to be overtaken she prayed for aid, and was immediately changed into a laurel-tree, which became the favourite tree of the disappointed lover. the pageant founded on this old classical legend commenced with a man, who acted the part of apollo, chasing a woman, who represented daphne, followed by a young shepherd bewailing his hard fate. he, too, loved the fair and beautiful daphne, but apollo wooed her with fair words, and threatened him with diverse penalties, saying he would change him into a wolf, or a cockatrice, or blind his eyes. the shepherd in a long speech tells how daphne was changed into a tree, and then apollo is seen at the foot of a laurel-tree weeping, accompanied by two minstrels. the repentant god repeats the verse-- "sing you, play you; but sing and play my truth; this tree my lute, these sighs my note of ruth: the laurel leaf for ever shall be green, and chastity shall be apollo's queen. if gods may die, here shall my tomb be placed, and this engraven, 'fond phoebus, daphne chaste.'" a song follows, and then, wonderful to relate, the tree opens, and daphne comes forth. apollo resigns her to the humble shepherd, and then she runs to her majesty the queen, and with a great deal of flattery wishes her a long and prosperous reign. such was the simple play which delighted the minds of our forefathers, and helped to raise them from sordid cares and the dull monotony of continual toil. in our popular amusements the village folk do not take part, except as spectators, and therefore lose half the pleasure; whereas in the time of the virgin queen the rehearsals, the learning the speeches by heart, the dresses, the excitement, all contributed to give them fresh ideas and new thoughts. the acting may not have been very good; indeed queen elizabeth did not always think very highly of the performances of her subjects at coventry, and was heard to exclaim, "what fools ye coventry folk are!" but i think her majesty must have been pleased at the concluding address of the players at sudeley. after the shepherds had acted a piece in which the election of the king and queen of the bean formed a part, they knelt before the real queen, and said, "pardon, dread sovereign, poor shepherds' pastimes, and bold shepherds' presumptions. we call ourselves kings and queens to make mirth; but when we see a king or queen, we stand amazed. at chess there are kings and queens, and they of wood. shepherds are no more, nor no less, wooden. in theatres workmen have played emperors; yet the next day forgotten neither their duties nor occupation. for our boldness in borrowing their names, and in not seeing your majesty for our blindness, we offer these shepherds' weeds: which, if your majesty vouchsafe at any time to wear, it shall bring to our hearts comfort, and happiness to our labours." when the queen visited kenilworth castle, splendid pageants were performed in her honour. as she entered the castle the gigantic porter recited verses to greet her majesty, gods and goddesses offered gifts and compliments on bended knee, and the lady of the lake, surrounded by tritons and nereids, came on a floating island to do homage to the peerless elizabeth, and to welcome her to all the sport the castle could afford. for an account of the strange conduct of orion and his dolphin upon this occasion, we refer our readers to sir walter scott's _kenilworth_, and the lover of pageants will find much to interest him in gascoigne's _princely progress_. in many of the chief towns of england the members of the guilds were obliged by their ordinances to have a pageant once every year, which was of a religious nature. the guild of st. mary at beverley made a yearly representation of the presentation of christ in the temple, one of their number being dressed as a queen to represent the virgin, "having what may seem a son in her arms," two others representing joseph and simeon, and two others going as angels carrying lights. the people of england seem always to have had a great fondness for shows and pageants. chapter xi. november. "the ploughman, though he labour hard, yet on the holiday heigh trolollie, lollie loe. no emperor so merrily doth pass his time away; then care away, and wend along with me."--_complete angler_. "the curious preciseness, and all pretended gravity of those that seek to banish hence these harmless sports, have thrust away much ancient honesty."--irving's _sketch book_. all-hallow eve--"soul cakes"--diving for apples--the fifth of november--martinmas--_demands joyous_--indoor games. the first of november is all saints' day, and the eve of that day, called all-hallow even, was the occasion of some very ancient and curious customs. it seems to have been observed more by the descendants of the celts than by the saxons; and wales, scotland, and ireland were the homes of many of the popular superstitions connected with this festival. in scotland the bonfires were set up in every village, and each member of a family would throw in a white stone marked with his name; and if that stone could not be found next morning, it was supposed that that person would die before the following all saints' day. this foolish superstition may be classed with the other well-known superstition with regard to the sitting of thirteen people at one table, in which some are still foolish enough to believe. all-hallow even was supposed to be a great night for witches: possibly it was with the intention of guarding against their spells that the farmers used to carry blazing straw around their cornfields and stacks. it was the custom for the farmer to regale his men with seed cake on this night; and there were cakes called "soul mass cakes," or "soul cakes," which were given to the poor. these were of triangular shape, and poor people in staffordshire used to go _a-souling_, i.e. collecting these soul cakes, or anything else they could get. on this night the fishermen of scotland signed their boats, that is put a cross of tar upon them, in order that their fishing might prosper. the church bells were rung all night long for all christian souls, and we find from some old account books that the good folk were very careful to have all their bell-ropes and bells in good order for all-hallow even. this ringing was supposed to benefit the souls of the dead in purgatory, and was suppressed after the reformation. there were some very homely pastimes for all-hallow even for the young folk in the north of england. apples were placed in a vessel of water and "dived for"; or they were suspended from the roof and caught at by several expectant mouths. sometimes a rod was suspended with an apple at one end, and at the other a lighted candle. the youths had their hands tied behind their backs, and caught at the apple, often causing the candle to swing round and burn their hair. the cracking of nuts was an important ceremony among the young men and maidens, who threw nuts into the fire, and from the way in which they cracked, or burned, foretold all kinds of happiness or misery for themselves. the nuts that burned brightly prophesied prosperity to their owners, but those that crackled or burned black denoted misfortune. in olden times, when people were more superstitious than they are now, they attached great importance to these omens and customs, but happily the young people of our times have ceased to believe in magic and foolish customs, and country girls strive to attract their swains by other charms than those of nut-cracking on all-hallow even. we have still our bonfires on november th, but the event which happened on that day is very recent as compared with many of the old customs of which i have been writing. however, it is nearly three hundred years ago since guy fawkes and his companions attempted to blow up the houses of parliament with gunpowder; and yet we still light our bonfires and burn guy fawkes' effigy, with much accompaniment of squibs and crackers, just as if the event which we commemorate only occurred last year. probably very few of our rustics think much of the origin of the customs observed on november the fifth, or remember that it was instituted by the house of commons as "a holiday for ever in thankfulness to god for our deliverance, and detestation of the papists;" but this ignorance does not prevent them from keeping up the custom and enjoying the excitement of the bonfire and fireworks. if you are not acquainted with the history of the conspiracy, i would advise you to read it in some good history book, and-- "pray to remember the fifth of november gunpowder treason and plot, when the king and his train had nearly been slain, therefore it shall not be forgot." the berkshire boys, as they carried their guy and collected wood for their bonfires, used to add the words-- "our king's a valiant soldier, with his blunderbuss on his shoulder, cocks his pistol, draws his rapier; pray give us something for his sake here. a stick and a stake, for our good king's sake: if ye won't give one, i'll take two, the better for me, and the worse for you. chorus-- "hollow, boys, hollow, boys, make the bells ring, hollow, boys, hollow, boys, god save the king." some of the rhymes tell us about the nefarious deeds of wicked guy fawkes, who "... with his companions did contrive to blow the house of parliament up alive, with three score barrels of powder down below, to prove old england's wicked overthrow; but by god's mercy all of them got catched, with their dark lantern, and their lighted match. ladies and gentlemen sitting by the fire, please put hands in pockets and give us our desire: while you can drink one glass, we can drink two, the better for we, and none the worse for you." this rhyme was concluded with the following strange jingle-- "rumour, rumour, pump a derry, prick his heart and burn his body, and send his soul to purgatory."[ ] the streets of oxford used to be the scenes of great encounters between the townsmen and gownsmen (or college students) on this night, who, on any other night in the year, never thought of fighting. happily in recent years these fights have ceased, but even now the gownsmen are "gated" on the night of the fifth of november, _i.e._ are confined to their colleges, lest there should be a renewal of these encounters. so severe were the battles in ancient times, that the tower of carfax church was lowered because the townsfolk used to ascend thither and shoot their arrows at the undergraduates; and the butchers were obliged to ply their trade beyond the city walls, because they had used their knives and cleavers in their annual fight. at martinmas, or the feast of st. martin, it was the custom to lay in a stock of winter provisions, and many cows, oxen, and swine were killed at this time, their flesh being salted and hung up for the winter, when fresh provisions were seldom to be had. and now the long evenings have set in, and our ancestors in hall or cottage assemble round the blazing hearth, and listen to the minstrel's lays, and recite their oft-told tales of adventure and romance. sometimes they indulge in asking each other riddles, and there exists at the present time an old collection of these early efforts of wit and humour which are not of a very high order. the book is called _demands joyous,_ and was printed in a.d. . i may extract the following riddles:--"what is it that never was and never will be? answer: a mouse's nest in a cat's ear. why does a cow lie down? because it cannot sit. how many straws go to a goose's nest? not one, for straws, not having feet, cannot go anywhere." with such feeble efforts of wit did the country folk try to beguile the long evenings. in those days there were no newspapers, very few books, even if they could be read, and the only means of gathering information from other parts of the country were the peddlers or wandering minstrels, who told them the news as they passed from place to place. consequently, the above humble efforts of wit were not to be despised, and served to beguile the tediousness of the long winter's night. besides, the villagers had the carols to practise for christmas, many of which were handed down from father to son for many generations, and probably both words and music received many variations in their course. old collections of these carols still exist, such as the one entitled, "good and true, fresh and new, christmas carols," which was made in the middle of the seventeenth century. as an instance of the way in which the words became changed as they were passed on by illiterate singers, i may mention a carol of which the refrain is now printed "now well, now well"; originally this must have been "noel, noel." some of the carols degenerated into songs about the wassail bowl, and the virtues of strong ale, and our forefathers were not unlike some of their children, who forget the saviour in the enjoyment of his gifts. and besides the carols the villagers had the ordinary hymns to practise, with grand accompaniment of violins, flutes, clarionets, etc., for each village had its own musicians, who took great pride and interest in their playing, and used to practise together in the evenings. the old instruments have vanished: we have our organs and harmoniums: our choirs sing better and more reverently; but there are no reunions of the village orchestra, which used to afford so much pleasure to the rustics of former days. in the lord's hall there were plenty of sedentary games, and amongst these pre-eminently stands the noble pastime of chess. it is very ancient, and is supposed to have been invented by xerxes, a philosopher in the court of evil-merodach, king of babylon. it was well known in england before the conquest, and canute was very fond of the chessboard. king john was so engrossed in this game that when some messengers came to tell him that the french king had besieged one of his cities, he would not listen to them until he had finished his chess. the complicated movements of the various men seem to show that the game was developed and improved, and not the invention of one man, but few changes have been made during several centuries. players are checkmated now in very much the same way as they were five hundred years ago. besides chess they had backgammon, or tables, as the game was called, merelles, or nine men's morris (which also found its way to the shepherds' cottages), dice, and card games, some of which i have described before. gambling was often carried on to a great extent, but evidently our modern people are not wiser than their ancestors in this matter; and instead of playing games for recreation, are not satisfied until they lose fortunes on the hazard of a dice or a card. let us hope that men will at length become wiser as the world grows older. [illustration: two individuals playing chess as two others look on.] erasmus, the learned dutchman, in his _colloquies_ suggests some curious awards for victors. he represents two youths, adolphus and bernard, who begin to play a game at bowls. adolphus says, "what shall he that beats get, or he that is beaten lose?" bernard replies, "what if he that beats shall have a piece of his ear cut off? it is a mean thing to play for money: you are a german, and i a frenchman: we will both play for the honour of his country. if i shall beat you, you shall cry out thrice, 'let france flourish!' if i shall be beat (which i hope i shall not), i will in the same words celebrate your germany." they bowl away: a stone represents the jack: a mischievous bit of brickbat rather interferes with the german's accuracy, of aim, but in the end he wins, and the french cock has to crow thrice, "let germany flourish." in another game between two students who are contending in the play of striking a ball through an iron ring, it is arranged that he that is beat shall make and repeat extempore some verses in praise of him that beat him. this certainly would make many a youth keen to win the contest! chapter xii. december. "the darling of the world is come, and fit it is we find a room to welcome him. the nobler part of all the house here is the heart, "which we will give him; and bequeath this holly and this ivy wreath to do him honour, who's our king, and lord of all this revelling." herrick, _a christmas carol_. st. nicholas day--the boy bishop--christmas eve--christmas customs--mummers--"lord of misrule"--conclusion. now dark and chill december has arrived; and very dark and chill it must have seemed to our ancestors. no gaslights illuminated the streets, here and there a feeble oil lamp helped to make the darkness visible, when the oil was not frozen: the roads were deep with mud, and everything outside was cold and cheerless. but within the farmer's kitchen the huge logs burned brightly, and the christmas holidays were at hand with the accustomed merrymakings, to cheer the hearts of all in the depths of the dreary winter. but before christmas day arrived, the children enjoyed a great treat on st. nicholas' day, december th, when it was the custom for parents to convey secretly presents of various kinds to their little sons and daughters, who were taught to believe that they owed them to the kindness of st. nicholas, who, going up and down among the towns and villages, came in at the windows and distributed the gifts. st. nicholas, who died a.d. , threw a purse filled with money into the bedroom of a poor man for the benefit of his three daughters, who were in sore trouble; and this story seems to have originated the custom which has been observed in many countries, and brought much enjoyment to the young folk who received st. nicholas' bounty. before the reformation there was another very strange custom associated with this day; namely, the election of a boy bishop, who was dressed in episcopal robes, with a mitre on his head, and who actually was allowed to preach in the church. this was done regularly at many of our cathedrals and collegiate churches, and we find records of the custom amongst the archives of salisbury and many other places; even the service which they used is in existence. the youthful bishop was elected by the choir-boys, and exercised his functions until holy innocents' day. on that day in great state he entered the cathedral surrounded by the other boys, who played the part of prebendaries, and attended by the dean and canons, who on this occasion yielded up their dignity to the youthful prelate and his followers. the collect for holy innocents' day in our prayer-book formed part of the service. it was a strange ceremony, not unmixed with irreverence, and happily has long been discontinued, being forbidden by royal proclamation in , and finally abolished by elizabeth. in the archives of the ancient town of bristol there is a book of directions for the mayor and his brethren, and on st. nicholas' day they are ordered to go to the church of st. nicholas and join in the festival of the boy bishop, to hear his sermon and receive his blessing. then they dined together, and waited for the young bishop to come to them, playing the meanwhile at dice, the town clerk being ordered to find the dice, and to receive a penny for every raffle. the bishop was regaled with bread and wine, and preached again to the mayor and corporation in the evening. i am informed that a curious memorial of this custom existed until recent years in one village at least. an old lady recollected that when she was a child she was allowed to play with her companions in church on st. nicholas' day. but christmas is approaching, and we must hasten to describe that bright and happy festival. the holiday began on christmas eve, and perhaps you have wondered why we hang up mistletoe, and decorate our churches and houses with holly, why our ancestors brought in the yule-log, and performed many other customs which do not seem to be very closely connected with the celebration of the birthday of our lord. but we must remember that our forefathers were originally heathen, and at this period of the year they practised several strange customs connected with their druidical worship, and held great feasts in honour of their gods. when christian missionaries converted these heathen, they strove to put down some of the old idolatrous practices; but their efforts were in vain, for the people were warmly attached to these old rights and usages. so a compromise was effected: the old pagan customs were shorn of their idolatry and transferred to our christian festivals. cutting the mistletoe was distinctly a rite practised by the druids, who cut the sacred plant with a golden knife, and sacrificed two white bulls to the sylvan deities whom they thus sought to propitiate. we hang up our bunches of mistletoe now, but we do not attach any superstitious importance to it, nor imagine that any gods of the woods will be influenced by our procedure. the bringing in of the yule-log was a norse custom observed in honour of thor, from whose name we derive our word thursday or thor's-day. the mighty log was drawn into the baronial hall with great pomp, while the bards sang their songs of praise and chanted "welcome yule." "welcome be thou, heavenly king, welcome, born on this morning; welcome for whom we shall sing welcome, yule." herrick, who delighted so much in singing of "maypoles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes--" then bursts out in joyous strains: "come, bring with a noise, my merry, merry boys, the christmas log to the firing; while my good dame, she bids ye all be free and drink to your heart's desiring. with the last year's brand light the new block, and for good success in his spending, on your psaltries play, that sweet luck may come while the log is a-teending." we can fancy that we see the ceremony, the glad procession of retainers and servants, the lights flaring in all directions: we can hear the shouts and chorus of many voices, the drums beating and flutes and trumpets sounding. the huge hearth receives the mighty log, and the flames and sparks shoot up the gaping chimney. at court in olden times christmas was kept right royally, if we may judge from the extensive _menu_ of the repasts of king henry iii. and his courtiers in the year . he kept his christmas at winchester castle, and the neighbourhood must have been ransacked to furnish supplies for the royal table. the choice dainties were as follows: boars, with heads entire, well cooked and very succulent, ; fowls, ; partridges, mostly "put in paste," ; swans, ; peacocks, ; hares, ; eggs, , ; gallons of oysters; rabbits, and more if possible; birds of various sorts, as many as could be had; of whitings, "particularly good and heavy," and conger eels the same; a hundred mullets, "fat and very heavy." for bread the king paid £ s., at the price of four loaves to the penny. when the king kept his christmas at york in , the royal treasury must have been very full, for he ordered for the royal banquets fowls, partridges, besides immense numbers of boars, swans, pheasants, &c. of course the king had a very large retinue of vassals and feudal lords to provide for; but the store seems sufficiently vast to supply the wants of an army of faithful, but hungry, subjects. sometimes, when the king was short of money, there was a considerable reduction in the amount of good things consumed at christmas. our ancestors were very careful to attend the services of the church, which their loving hands had adorned with holly, bay, rosemary, and laurel. they considered it a day of special thanksgiving and rejoicing, as an old poet observed-- "at christmas be merry and thankful with all, and feast thy poor neighbours, the great and the small." the solemn service of holy communion was celebrated on christmas eve, in mediæval times--the only night in all the year when an evening celebration was allowed. the halls of the knights and barons of ancient days were thrown open to all comers, and open house was kept for a fortnight. rejoicing at christmas time seems to have been universal, and it is not for us to judge whether in their mirth they sometimes forgot the reason of true christmas joy, and thought more of their feasting than of him who was born on christmas day. but by their hearty manner of keeping this annual festival, by the hospitality which the farmers and rich men showed to their labourers and poorer neighbours, they promoted, at any rate, "goodwill amongst men"--old animosities, quarrels, and bitternesses were forgotten, and the hearts of the poor cheered. in the north of england every farmer gave two feasts, one called "the old folks' night," and the other "the young folks' night." the old squire used to receive his tenants and neighbours at daybreak, when the black-jacks were passed round, and woe betide the luckless cook who had overslept herself, and had not boiled the hackin, or large sausage, ere the day dawned, for then she was seized by the arms and made to run round the market-place, or courtyard, until she was ashamed of her laziness. and now let us enter the hall of some great baron and see how our ancestors kept a merry christmas. the panelled walls, and stags' horns, and gallery at one end of the great room were hung with holly and mistletoe. the yule-log blazed upon the hearth, and then entered the vassals, tenants, and servants of the lord to share in the christmas banquet. rank and ceremony were laid aside: all were deemed equal, whether lords or barons, serfs or peasants--a custom which arose, doubtless, from the remembrance of him who on the first christmas day, "although he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor." and now on the huge oaken table were placed the various dishes of the feast--a mighty boar's head, decorated with laurel and rosemary, whose approach was often heralded with trumpets as the king of the feast; then came a peacock, stuffed with spices and sweet herbs, and adorned with its gay feathers, and then followed a goodly company of geese, capons, sirloins of beef, pheasants, mince-pies, and plum-porridge. a carol was often sung when the boar's head was brought in; here is one from the collection of wynkyn de worde: caput apri defero reddens laudes domino, the boar's head in hand bring i with garlands gay and rosemary; i pray you all sing merrily qui estis in convivio. the boar's head, i understand, is the chief service in this land; look wherever it be fande: servile cum cantico. be glad, lords, both more and lasse, for this hath ordained our stewárd to cheer you all this christmasse, the boar's head with mustárd.[ ] neither were the ale and wassail-bowl forgotten, and they circulated sometimes too often, i fear, and laid the seeds of gout and other evils, from which other generations suffer. but when the prodigious appetites of the company had been appeased, the maskers and mummers entered the hall and performed strange antics and a curious play, fragments of which have come down to our own time. the youths of the villages of england still come round at christmas-time and act their mumming-drama, in which "st. george" kills a "turkish knight," who is raised to life by "medicine man," and performs a very important part of the play--passing round the money-box. this is a remnant of the mumming of ancient days, and perhaps of some "mystery" play, of which i told you in a previous chapter. in berkshire the characters are represented by "molly," a stalwart man dressed in a woman's gown, shawl, and bonnet, with a besom in his hand, who strives in his dialogue to imitate a woman's voice; king george, a big burly man dressed as a knight, with a wooden sword and a home-made helmet; a french officer, with a cocked hat and sword; a doctor, who wears a pig-tail; jack vinny, a jester; happy jack, a humorous character dressed in tattered garments, and old beelzebub, who appears as father christmas. in some parts of the royal county the part of king george is taken by an "africky king," and a turkish knight instead of the french officer. very curious are the words of the old play, and very ludicrous the representation when the parts are acted by competent players. there was also in the baron's hall a great person dressed in a very fantastic garb, who was here, there, and everywhere, directing the mummers, making jokes to amuse the company, and looking after everybody. he was called the "lord of misrule." sometimes his rule was harmless enough, and did good service in directing the revels; but often he was more worthy of his name, and was guilty of all kinds of absurd and mischievous pranks, which did great harm, and were very profane. but these were not part of the christmas feast, where all was happiness and mirth. sir walter scott says, in his description of the festival-- "england was merry england when old christmas brought his sports again; a christmas gambol oft would cheer a poor man's heart through all the year." all the old poets sing in praise of the great day which, as herrick says, "sees december turned to may," and which makes the "chilling winter's morn smile like a field beset with corn." old carols chant in reverent strains their homage to the infant saviour: some reflect time-honoured customs and social joys when old age casts aside its solemnity and mingles once more in the light-hearted gaiety of youth, and all unite in chanting the praises of this happy festival. the poet withers sings-- "lo! now is come our joyful'st feast! let every man be jolly; each room with ivy leaves is drest, and every post with holly. "now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke, and christmas blocks are burning; their ovens they with baked meats choke, and all their spits are turning. "without the door let sorrow lie, and if, for cold, it has to die, we'll bury it in christmas pie, and evermore be merry." thus the happy night was spent; and if, like grave elders, we look down upon these frolics of a younger age, and think ourselves so much wiser and better than our forefathers, we should not forget the benefits which come from open-handed hospitality, goodwill, and simple manners, nor scornfully regard honest merriment and light-hearted gaiety. a light heart is generally not far removed from a holy heart. yes, england was merry england then; and although there were plenty of troubles in those days, when plagues decimated whole villages, when wars were frequent, food scarce, and oppression common, yet the christmas festivities, the varieties of sports and pastimes which each season provided, the homely customs and bonds of union between class and class which these observances strengthened, added brightness to the lives of our simple forefathers, who might otherwise have sunk beneath the burdens of their daily toil. we have seen how many customs and sports, which were at first simple and harmless, degenerated and were abused: we have noticed some of the bad features of these ancient pastimes, such as cruelty to animals and intemperance; and are thankful that there is some improvement manifest in these respects. but it is interesting to witness again in imagination the scenes that once took place in our market-places and on our village greens; and, if it be impossible to restore again the glories of may day and the brightness of the christmas feast, we may still find plenty of harmless and innocent recreation, and learn to be merry, and at the same time wise. * * * * * footnotes: [footnote : although the st of january was popularly regarded as the beginning of the year from early times, it was not until a.d. that the legal commencement of the year was changed from march th to the former date.] [footnote : these fires signified our saviour and the twelve apostles. one of the fires, which represented judas, the traitor, was extinguished soon after it was lighted, and the materials of the fire kicked about.] [footnote : the distaff was the staff which held the flax or wool in spinning. all maidens were engaged in this occupation, and a "spinster" (_i.e._ one who spins) is still the legal term for an unmarried woman.] [footnote : st. blaize (or blasius) was bishop of sebaste in armenia, and was martyred a.d. his flesh was torn with iron combs, so the wool-staplers have adopted him as their patron saint.] [footnote : _shrove-tide_ and _shrove tuesday_ derive their names from the ancient practice of confessing one's sins on that day. _to be shriven,_ or _shrove_, means to obtain absolution from one's sin.] [footnote : it was practised as late as the end of the last century.] [footnote : so called from the gospel of the day, which treats of the feeding of the five thousand.--_cf_. wheatley on prayer-book.] [footnote : the caber is a small tree, or beam, heavier at one end than the other. the performer holds this perpendicularly, with the smaller end downwards, and his object is to toss it so as to make it fall on the other end.] [footnote : _a pleasant grove of new fancies_, .] [footnote : sometimes the may queen did not consort with morris-dancers, but sat in solitary state under a canopy of boughs.] [footnote : a correspondence in _athenæum_, sept. , .] [footnote : the same story is told of willes, who is supposed by some cricketers to be the inventor of the modern style of delivery.] [footnote : the word _fair_ is derived from the ecclesiastical term, _feria_, a holiday.] [footnote : _cf._ govett's _king's book of sports_, and _tom brown's schooldays,_ to which i am indebted for the above accurate description of back-sword play.] [footnote : i am indebted for this description to mr. w. andrews' interesting book on the _curiosities of the church_.] [footnote : cf. _annals of winchcombe and sudeley_, by mrs. dent.] [footnote : cf. _glossary of berkshire words and phrases_, by major b. lowsley, r.e.] [footnote : the custom of bringing in the boar's head is still preserved at queen's college, oxford. the story is told of a student of the college who was attacked by a wild boar while he was diligently studying aristotle during a walk near shotover hill. his book was his only means of defence, so he thrust the volume down the animal's throat, exclaiming, "it is greek!" the boar found greek very difficult to digest, and died on the spot, and the head was brought home in triumph by the student. ever since that date, for five hundred years, a boar's head has graced the college table at christmas.] index. agape, suggested origin of "church ales," ales, church, , , alfred, laws relating to holidays, all-hallow eve, animals to be hunted, april, archery, -- ascension day, ascham's accomplishments of english gentleman, back-sword play, baiting bears, bulls, &c., bale-fires, ball games, , , -- barley-brake, bath, wakes at, battledore, bean, king of, berks--old sports, "bessy," blaize st., boar's head at christmas, bonfires, , , , book of sports, , bounds, beating, bowl, boy bishop, bull-baiting, burning wheel, butts, caber-tossing, candlemas, carols, _catherine, st._, miracle play, charlemagne, chess, chester, , choirs, old, christmas holidays, customs, - at court, church decoration, , , churchwardens' accounts, , , , , , church ale, , , church house, cloudslee, william of, club-ball, , cock-fighting, , cock-throwing, collop monday, _colloquies_ of erasmus, _conversion of st. paul_, mystery play, country parson, coventry, , _crafte of hunting_, cricket, , - cross-bow, cudgel-play, curling, customs, local, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , dances, country, on village green, dancing with swords, december, dedication festivals, _demands joyous_, devonshire custom, distaff, st., dragons, dues, cock-fight, early sport, , easter, -- eighteenth century cricket, election of king of bean, england "merry," , , _english villages, our_, , epiphany, erasmus, _colloquies_ of, evelyn's _diary_, fairs, , falconer, february, festivals, , , , finsbury, football, , , foot-races, , fox-hunting extraordinary, france, home of tennis, gambling, games, minor ball, " ball, , , , " indoor, , george herbert, golf, , good friday cake, gospel trees, grasmere, guildford, cricket at, gunpowder plot, guy fawkes, hambledon cricket club, , handball, handball in church, harvest home, , hawking, heaving, herbert, george, herefordshire custom, herrick, , , , , , hobby-horse, hock-cart, hocking, hock-tide, , holland, golf introduced from, horse-collar, grinning through a, hot cross buns, , hunting, , hurling, , indoor games, ireland, isaak walton, january, jersey, jingling match, john's, st., eve, jousts, july, june, kenilworth castle, pageants at kent and sussex, first homes of cricket, king of the bean, lammas, lancashire, lawn-tennis, lifting, lillywhite, local customs, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , "lord of misrule," magdalen hymn, magdalen pulpit, march, martinmas, maundy thursday--money, may--may day, may-pole, , , may queen, "merry england," , , mews, origin of word, michaelmas, midsummer eve, minor ball-games, miracle plays, , , misrule," "lord of, mitford, miss, _our village_, _moralities_, mothering-sunday, mummers, _mysteries_, , , new year's day, _nicholas, st., the image of_, mystery play, nicholas, day, st., _noah and the flood_, mystery play, november, october, old songs, , , , , , , , , , , , , , orchards, wassailing of, , otter-hunting, _our english villages_, reference, , _our village_, reference, outdoor winter sports, oxford customs, , pace, _pasche, paschal_, eggs, pageants, pall mall, palm sunday, park, st. james's, parson, country, pea, queen of, pig-catching, pigeon-holes, plagues, plough monday, pole-leaping, purification, puritans, quarter-staff, , , queen of the pea, queen of the play, quintain, reading town, , , reformation, , , refreshment sunday, relics of sun-worship, , revival of bounds-beating, robin hood, roch's, st., day, rogation days, royal golfers, " tennis players, , rush-bearing, rushes in churches, , , salisbury, boy bishop, september, sepulchres, sheep-shearing, shere thursday, shrovetide, , simnell-cakes, single-stick, skating, , "spinster," derivation of, sports, book of, , , sports, early, , songs, old, , , , , , , , , , , , , , soul-cakes, stool-ball, stuarts, , , , , , sudeley castle, pageants at, sun-worship, relics of, , superstitions, , , , , , , sussex custom, sussex and kent, first homes of cricket, tansy-cake, tennis, , tilting at a ring, tipcat called billet, tournaments, trap-ball, tusser, _five hundred points of husbandry_, twelfth day eve, , twelfth night, _undershaft_, st. andrew, uncleanliness, valentine, st., wakes, , , walton, isaak, "wassail," water tournament, , whistling match, white horse hill, whitsuntide, willes, winter games, indoor, wise men from east, withers, christmas song, wrestling, year, new, festivities, , yule-log, * * * * * richard clay & sons, limited, london & bungay note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) juvenile library girls series ethel morton at rose house by mabell s. c. smith the world syndicate publishing co. cleveland new york press of the commercial bookbinding co., cleveland [frontispiece: "here's where we should land"] chapter i roger's idea for the fortieth time that afternoon, it seemed to ethel brown morton and her cousin, ethel blue, they untangled the hopelessly mixed garlands of the maypole and started the weavers once more to lacing and interlacing them properly. "under, over; under, over," they directed, each girl escorting a small child in and out among the gay bands of pink and white which streamed from the top of the pole. may day in new jersey is never a certain quality; it may be reminiscent of the north pole or the equator. this happened to be the hottest day of the year so far, and both ethels had wiped their foreheads until their handkerchiefs were small balls too soaked to be of any further use. but they kept on, for this was the first community maypole that rosemont ever had had, and the united service club, to which the girls belonged, was doing its part to make the afternoon successful. helen, ethel brown's sister, and margaret hancock, another member of the club, were teaching the younger children a folk dance on the side of the lawn; roger morton, james hancock and tom watkins were marshalling a group of boys and marching them back and forth across the end of the grass plot nearest the schoolhouse. delia watkins, tom's sister, and dorothy smith, a cousin of the mortons, were going about among the mothers and urging them to let the little ones take part in the games. everybody was busy until dusk sent the small children home and the caretaker came to uproot the pole and to shake his head ruefully over the condition of the lawn whose smoothness had been roughened by the tread of scores of dancing feet. it was while the club members were sitting on the mortons' veranda, resting, that helen, who was president of the club, called them to order. "saturday afternoon is our usual time of meeting," she began, "and no one can say that we haven't put in a solid afternoon of service." groans as one and another shifted a cramped position to another more restful for weary feet confirmed her statement. "what i want to say now is that it's time for us to be thinking up some more service work. we are all studying pretty hard so we don't want to undertake anything that will use up our out-of-door time too much, but we haven't anything in prospect except helping with the town fourth of july celebration, over two months away, so we might as well be planning something else." "do i understand, madam president," asked roger, "that the chief officer of this distinguished club hasn't any ideas to suggest?" "the chief officer is so tired that not even another glass of lemonade--thank you, tom--can stir her gray matter." "hasn't anybody else any ideas?" silence greeted the question. "i seem to remember boasts that ideas never would fail this brilliant group," jeered roger. "there were some such remarks," james recalled meditatively; "and i remember that you prophesied that the day would come when we'd call on you for information about some stupendous scheme of yours that was literally as big as a house. let's have it now." "do i understand that you're really appealing to me to learn my scheme?" inquired roger, swelling with amusement. "if it's any satisfaction to you--yes," replied his sister. roger burst into a peal of laughter. "shoot off the answers, old man," urged james. "we're waiting." "breathlessly," added margaret. roger settled himself comfortably on the top step of the piazza and leaned his head against the post. "it certainly does me good to see you all at my feet begging like this," he declared. "bosh! you're at ours and i can prove it," asserted tom, stretching out a foot of goodly size. "peace! withdraw that battering ram!" pleaded roger. "i'll tell you all about it. tom's really responsible for this idea, anyway." "ideas, real fresh ones, aren't much in my line," admitted practical tom, "but i'm glad to have helped for once." "i don't suppose you remember that time last autumn when i went in to new york to see you and you took me down to the chapel where your father preaches on sunday afternoons?" "i remember it; we found father there talking with a lot of mothers and children." "that's the time. well, those women and children got on my nerves like anything. you see, out here in rosemont we haven't any real suffering like that. there are poor people, and mother always does what she can for them, and there's a charitable society, as you know, because you all helped with the donnybrook fair they had on st. patrick's day. but the people they help out here are regular rockefellers compared with those poor creatures that your father had in his office that day." "father says he could spend a million dollars a year on those people, and not have a misspent cent," said delia. "what hit me hardest was the thin little children. elisabeth hadn't come to us yet," roger went on, referring to a belgian baby that had been sent to the club to take care of, "and i wasn't so accustomed to thinness as i've grown to be since, and it made me--well, it just made me sick." "i don't wonder," agreed delia seriously. "that's the way they make me feel." "i know what you thought of," exclaimed ethel blue, who was so imaginative and sympathetic that she sometimes had an almost uncanny way of reading peoples' thoughts. "you wanted to bring some of those poor women out into the country so that the children could get well, and you told your grandfather about it and he offered you a house somewhere." "that's about it, kidlet. i heard one of the women say that she'd had a week in the country--some sort of fresh air business--and that the baby got a lot better, and then she had to go back to the city and the little creature was literally dying on her hands." "you want to give them a whole summer," guessed ethel brown. "that's the idea. since i've seen what proper care and good food and fresh air have done for that wretched little skeleton, elisabeth, i'm more than ever convinced that if we can give some of those mothers and babies a whole month or perhaps two months of rosemont air we'll be saving lives, actually saving lives." roger looked about earnestly from one grave face to another. all were in sympathy with him and all waited for the development of his plan, for they knew he would not have laid so much stress upon it if he had not thought out the details. "i've talked it over with grandfather and he rose to it right off. here's where the house comes in. he said he was going to build a new cottage for his farm superintendent this spring--you know it's almost done now--and that we could have the old farm house if we wanted to fix it up for a fresh air scheme." "mr. emerson is a brick. i pull my forelock to him," and tom illustrated his remark. "where's the money to come from?" asked james, who was both of scottish descent and the club treasurer, and so was not only shrewd but accustomed to look after details. "grandfather said he'd help in this way; if the club would study the old house and decide on the best way to make it answer the purpose he would provide two carpenters for a fortnight to help us. that will mean that if we want to do any whitewashing or papering or matters of that kind we'll have to do it ourselves, but the carpenters will put the house in repair and put up any partitions that we want and so on." "is it furnished?" "there's another problem. the superintendent has had his own furniture there and what will be left when he goes is almost nothing. there are some old things in the garret, but we'll have to use our ingenuity and invent furniture." "the way i did for our attic." dorothy reminded them of the room where the club had been meeting ever since its members returned from chautauqua where it had been formed the summer before. "just so. we'll have to make a raid on our mothers' attics and also on the stores in town that have their goods come in big boxes, and i imagine we shall be able to concoct things that will 'do,' though they may be remarkable to look upon." "the mothers and children will be out of doors all the time, so they won't sit around and examine the furniture," laughed delia. "it will be scanty, probably, but if we can get beds enough and a chair apiece, or a substitute for a chair, and a few tables, we can get along." "there's your house provided and furnished after a fashion--how are you going to run it?" inquired helen. "it takes shekels to buy even very plain food in these days of the 'high cost of living," and we've got to give these women and children nourishing food; they can't live on fresh air alone." "praise be, fresh air costs nothing!" "that's one thing we'll get free," laughed roger. "grandfather told me to investigate and see what i could find out about finances and then let him know. so i went in to see mr. watkins." "and never told me," said tom reproachfully. "of course not. all of you people were too sniffy. i told your father what the plan was and what grandfather had said. he thought it was great. he's a corker, your father is." delia and tom looked somewhat startled at this epithet describing their parent, but roger meant it to be complimentary, so they made no remonstrance. "he said right off that he could provide the women and children in any numbers and that he'd select the ones that needed the change most and would be most benefited by it." "it's not hard to find those," murmured delia. "then he said that he had certain funds that he could draw on for such cases and that he'd be just as willing to pay the board for these women and children at rosemont as anywhere else, so that we could depend on a small sum for each one of them from the treasurer of the chapel." "that ought to cover the expense of their food," said helen, "but we'll have to have a housekeeper and a cook." "that's what aunt louise said." "oho, you've been talking with mother about it!" exclaimed dorothy. "i knew the club would come to me sooner or later, it was only a matter of time, so i made ready to answer some of the questions you'd be asking me." they laughed at roger's preparedness, but nodded approvingly. "aunt louise said she'd pay the wages of the cook, and then i toddled off to grandmother emerson and told her i was planning to raid her attic for old furniture, and asked her incidentally if she thought we could run the thing without a housekeeper." "i hope she said 'yes'," exclaimed margaret, who liked to administer a household. "grandmother was very polite; she said she thought the u. s. c. could do anything it set out to do, but that there would be countless odds and ends that would occupy us all summer long--" "like making a continuous stream of furniture!" "and going marketing and doing errands." "and mowing the grass." "and playing games with the kids." "o, a thousand things would crop up; we never could be idle; and so she thought we'd better have a responsible woman as housekeeper. what's more she said she'd pay her." "it wouldn't be polite for me to say about a lady what you said about mr. watkins," said james-- "for which i apologize," declared roger parenthetically. "--but i'd like to remark that she's one of the most reliable grandmothers i ever had anything to do with!" they all laughed again. "where we'll get these two women i don't know," said roger. "my researches stopped there. but i suppose it wouldn't be difficult." "i've heard mother say that the 'responsible woman' was the hardest person on earth to find," said helen, thoughtfully. "but we can all hunt." "i know some one who might do if she'd be willing--and i don't know why she wouldn't," said ethel brown. "who? who? some one in rosemont?" "right here in rosemont. mrs. schuler." "mrs. schuler?" there was a cry of wonder, for mrs. schuler was the teacher of german in the high school. she had been engaged to mr. schuler, who taught singing in the rosemont schools, before the war broke out. mr. schuler was called to the colors and lost a leg in the early part of the war. since he could no longer be useful as a fighter he had been allowed to return to america, and his betrothed had married him at once so that she and her mother, mrs. hindenburg, might nurse him back to health. he had been slowly regaining his strength through the winter, and was now fairly well and as cheerful as his crippled state would permit. "you know i've been to see mrs. hindenburg a good deal ever since we got her to go to the home to teach the old ladies how to knit," said ethel brown. "i know her pretty well now. the other day she told me she had had an application from a family who wanted to board with her this summer, and she was so sorry to have to turn them away because she didn't have enough rooms for them." "i don't see how that helps us any." "you know mr. schuler hasn't been able to take many pupils this winter and i shouldn't wonder if mrs. schuler would be glad to have something to do this summer when school is closed. now if they would go to our fresh air house and take charge there for the summer it would leave mrs. hindenburg with enough space to take in her boarders. she'd be glad, and i should think the schulers would be glad." "and we'd be glad! why, fraulein is the grandest housekeeper," cried helen, using the name that mrs. schuler's old pupils never remembered to change to "frau." "german housekeepers are thrifty and neat and careful--why, she's exactly the person we want. how _great_ of you to think of her, ethel brown!" "you know she wanted to adopt our belgian baby, so i guess she's interested in poor children," volunteered ethel blue. "are our plans far enough along for us to ask her?" inquired margaret. "we ought to ask her as soon as we can, because mrs. hindenburg's plans will be affected by the schulers' decision," helen reminded them. "i think we are far enough along," decided roger. "you see, the idea is new to you, but i've been working at it for a good many months now, and if we all pull together to do our share i know we can depend on the grown-ups to do theirs." "shall we appoint ethel brown to call on mrs. schuler and talk it over with her? she knows her better than the rest of us because she's seen her at home oftener." "madam president, i move that ethel brown be appointed a committee of one to see our teutonic friends and work up their sympathies over the women and children we want to help so that they just can't resist helping too. is your eloquence equal to that strain, ethel?" ethel thought it was, and promised to go the very next afternoon. the discussion turned to the next step to take. "grandfather's superintendent is going to move into the new cottage next week," was roger's news, "so then we can go over the old house and see how it is arranged and decide how we'd like to change it." "and also find out just what furniture is left and draw up a list of what furniture we shall need." "had we better appoint committees for making the different investigations?" inquired tom, who was accustomed to the methods of a city church. "later, perhaps," decided helen. "at first i think we all want to know the whole situation and then we can make our plans to fit, and special people can volunteer for special work if we think it can be done best that way." "it's a great old plan you have there, roger," cried tom, thumping his friend affectionately on the shoulder. "i bow to your giant intellect. we'll do our best to make it a success." chapter ii moya and sheila elisabeth of belgium was walking sturdily now on the legs that had been too weak to uphold her when she first came to rosemont in november. her increasing strength was an increasing delight to all the people who loved her--and there was no one who knew her who did not love her--but her activity obliged her caretakers to be incessantly on the alert. miss merriam, the skilled young woman from the school of mothercraft, who had pulled her through her period of greatest feebleness, now found herself sometimes quite outdone by the energy of her little charge. the ethels were always glad to relieve her of her responsibilities for an hour or two, and it was the afternoon of the day after roger had reported his plan to the club that found the cousins strolling down church street, "ayleesabet" between them, clinging to a finger of each, not to help her stand upright but to serve as a pair of supports from which she might swing herself off the ground. "see! she lifted her whole weight then!" exclaimed ethel blue. "we shall have to give up calling her 'baby' soon. she's becoming an acrobat!" "it's all due to miss merriam. i wish she didn't look so tired the last few days." ethel blue made no reply. she guessed something of the reason that had made miss gertrude appear distressed and silent. a certain note that she herself had placed in a may basket and hung on miss merriam's door might have something to do with her appearance of anxiety. she changed the subject as a measure of precaution, for she had been in the confidence of dr. watkins, the elder brother of tom and delia and a warm admirer of miss merriam's, and she did not want the conversation to run into channels where she might have to answer inconvenient questions. "this scheme of roger's is pretty tremendous," she began by way of introducing a theme in which ethel brown would be sure to be interested. "we--the club, i mean--never has 'fallen down' yet on anything, even some of our 'shows' that we didn't have much time to get up, so we ought to have confidence in ourselves as a club." "with this next undertaking, though, we don't really know how the thing is done." "how to make over the house, you mean?" "how to make over the house and how to run the fresh air settlement when the house is made over." "there's no doubt we'll know more at the end of the summer than we know now! we've got to get information from every source we can." "the way roger has up to now." "we must think of every one we know who has made over a house, and dr. watkins ought to be able to tell us of some people who have had fresh air children staying with them, so we can get some idea about what they need and how a house is managed." "come, come." a chirp rose from near the ground. ayleesabet was tired of being disregarded for so long. "you blessed lamb!" cried ethel blue. "did you say, 'come, come,' just because you heard it? did you think we were talking very learnedly about things we didn't know much about! never mind, ducky daddles, we'll know a lot about them six months from now!" "just the way we've learned a lot about babies in the last six months from this little teacher!" added ethel brown. "come, come. home, home," remarked elisabeth insistently. "what's the matter? are your leggies tired? want the ethels to carry you?" elisabeth made it known that she would like some such method of transportation, and sat joyfully on a "chair" which the two girls made by interclasping their wrists. not for long did this please her ladyship. "down, down," she demanded in a few minutes. "we might as well go home if she's too tired to walk and too restless to ride," decided ethel brown, and they turned about, to the evident pleasure of the baby. as they were returning along church street but were still at a distance from dorothy's house elisabeth suddenly gave a chirrup of delight. the ethels looked about to see the cause of this unexpected expression of joy. crawling out through a hedge on to the sidewalk was a child of about elizabeth's age, but a thin and dirty little mite, with a face that betrayed her race as irish. "what's this morsel doing here all by herself!" exclaimed ethel blue. "she must have run away; or perhaps she isn't alone. let's look about for her mother." up and down the street they looked while elisabeth scraped acquaintance with the sudden arrival upon her path. "it doesn't seem as if she could be far off." in truth she was not far off, for as the girls wondered and exclaimed a weak voice made itself heard from the other side of the hedge. "don't take her away," it said. leaving the children to entertain each other on the sidewalk they enlarged the hole from which the new baby had crawled, and pushed their way through it. on the ground behind the hedge, and hidden from the sidewalk by its thick twigs lay a young woman, so pale that she frightened the girls. "don't take the baby away. i'll feel better in a little while. she crept off from me." "how did you get here?" asked ethel brown. "i came out from new york to look for work in the country. i felt so sick i lay down here." "did you get any work?" a slight movement of the head indicated that she had not. the ethels consulted each other by disturbed glances. there was no hospital nearer than glen point, and indeed, the woman seemed so ill that they did not see how she could reach the hospital even in the trolley. as they stood silent and perplexed the honk of a motor roused the almost unconscious woman. "is the baby in the street?" she inquired frantically. ethel brown crushed her way through the hedge, and found that the children were still on the sidewalk, but were so near its edge that the driver of the car had tooted to warn them back. to her delight she saw that the driver was grandfather emerson. she waved her hand to stop him. "you're a great caretaker!" he cried. "why do you leave elisabeth to look after herself in this fashion? and who's her friend?" ethel climbed into the machine beside him and told of the discovery that the girls had just made. mr. emerson drew the car alongside the curb and jumped out with anxiety written on his face. the hole in the hedge was too small for him to push through so he ran around the end, and approached the prostrate form of the woman. her eyes were closed and she lay so still that ethel blue, who was rubbing her hands, shook her head as she glanced up gratefully at the new arrival. "what's this, what's this?" asked mr. emerson in his full, rich voice. its mere sound seemed to carry comfort to the poor creature lying at his feet. he knelt beside her. "hungry, eh?" he asked. "we'll see about that right off. can you eat these cookies?" he took a thin tin box out of his pocket and opened it. "i have a little granddaughter named ethel brown who insists on my keeping cookies in my pocket all the time so that i can eat them when i'm driving. see if you can take a bite of this." a fluttering hand took the cooky and put it between the pale lips. helped by the girls the woman struggled to her feet and stood wavering before she tried to take a step. she was a young woman with very black hair and gray-blue eyes and a face that was meant to be unlined and pretty and not gaunt with hunger and furrowed by anxiety. "you're very good," she whispered feebly. supported on each side she managed to reach the sidewalk, where she looked about wildly for her baby. an expression that was sad but infinitely relieved came over her features when she saw the two children sitting in the gravel of the walk filling their tiny hands with pebbles. "a cooky won't hurt the baby either," decided mr. emerson, and he gave one to each of the children. the ethels had no chance to ask him what he meant to do without their discovery hearing them, so they helped the woman into the machine, put in the two children and climbed in themselves. to their great interest mr. emerson turned the car about and headed it for his own home. "i wonder what grandmother will say," murmured ethel brown to ethel blue, who was steadying the ill woman's head as it lay against the back of the seat. ethel blue lifted her eyebrows to indicate that she could not guess; but both girls knew in their hearts that mrs. emerson would do what was wisest and for the best good of the strays. she came to the door in answer to the sound of the horn. "how did you get back so soon?" she began to inquire of her husband when her eyes fell on the passengers in the car. "an accident?" she asked anxiously as she ran down the steps. "the girls found this woman and her child part way over here and i thought i'd better bring her on and get your opinion about her. i think she'd like something to eat," and the kind old gentleman smiled in friendly fashion as the woman opened frightened eyes at the sound of a new voice. among them they succeeded in getting her into the house and into a cool room, where she lay exhausted on the bed, her hand holding tight to the little hand of her baby, lying wearily beside her. "sunstroke?" asked grandmother. "hunger," replied mr. emerson, and he and ethel brown went down stairs at once in search of food, while mrs. emerson and ethel blue managed to undress their patient and put her into a fresh nightdress and bathe her face and hands. by the time they had done this and were undressing the baby, ethel brown and mrs. emerson's cook were at the door with jellied broth, milk, gruel and a cooling drink. ethel blue fed the woman, spoonful by spoonful, and ethel brown gave the baby alternate spoonfuls of gruel and milk. "sleepy now?" asked mrs. emerson when the dark head sank back on the pillow. "take a nap, then. see, the baby is right here where you can lay your hand on her. we'll look in now and then and just as soon as you wake up you must take some more food." "must!" repeated the girl, for she was hardly older than miss merriam they saw when her hair was pushed back from her face. "must! 'tis _glad_ i'll be to be doing it!" and a ghost of a smile fluttered her lips. outside of the bedroom door mrs. emerson asked for an explanation and the others for her advice. "i don't see how we can tell what we can do until we pull her through this trouble and find out what the poor soul wants to do herself." "she said she came out from new york to look for work in the country." "then we must find her work in the country. but the first thing for us to attend to is to get her poor body into such a condition that she can work. she's a sweet looking young woman. i'm glad you brought her home, father," and between mr. and mrs. emerson there passed a smile of such understanding as makes beautiful the lives of people long and happily married. chapter iii the farmhouse it took a long time to bring moya murphy and little sheila back to health and strength, but it was only a day or two before moya was able to tell her story to mrs. emerson. she was twenty-five, she said, and she had come to america with her father and mother five years before. the new world had not given a warm welcome to the new arrivals, for both of the parents had fallen ill with pneumonia only a few weeks after they landed, and both died within a few days of each other. moya, left alone and grieving, had soon after married patrick murphy, a lad she had known in the old country. a happy life they led, especially after little sheila came to bless them. when the declaration of war in europe upset business conditions in america, patrick lost his "job" and all summer long he walked the streets, working for a day now and then, but never securing a permanent position, and always growing weaker and less able to work because he was underfed. the little three-room flat that had been such a joy to them, had long been given up and they lived and ate and slept in one room, and thanked their stars that they had a landlord who did not insist on being paid regularly, as did some they knew about who put their tenants out on the street if the rent was not forthcoming promptly. "somehow it's the sudden things that happens to me," said moya to mrs. emerson. she was sitting on the latticed back porch of the emersons' house, her fingers busy shelling peas for kate, the old cook who had lived with mrs. emerson ever since she was married. "patrick was crossing the street--'tis only six weeks ago, but it seems years! an automobile with one of the shrieking horns screamed at him. 'twas the policeman on the crossing told me. patrick was light on his feet always, but that was when he had enough to eat ivery day. he thried to jump back and his foot slipped and he fell under the car and it killed him." she sobbed and mrs. emerson and kate wiped their eyes. "two days it was before i knew it; there was nothing on his clothes to tell who he was, and i only found out when he didn't come home and i went to the police and they took me to the morgue and there he lay. they gave me twenty dollars--the policemen did. they collected it among themselves." "didn't they arrest the driver of the car?" "'twas a light car and it sped away before any one saw the number." kate flanigan gave a grunt of disgust at the brutality of the driver. "i gave the landlord half the money the policemen gave me. i owed it for the rint. then i set out to hunt work. ivery day i walked and walked and ivery day i carried the baby, for where could i leave her? nobody wanted a girl who wasn't trained to do anything, and even if i had been able to do something well they wanted no baby. there's no room for babies when you have to work," she said bitterly. "i want you to feel that you are safe here, you and sheila," said mrs. emerson gently. "mrs. morton and mrs. smith and i have been talking it over with kate, and this is what we've planned, provided you agree." moya gathered up her baby jealously in her lap. "it will keep you and sheila together," said mrs. emerson quickly, noticing her gesture, and smiling approvingly as moya at once let the child slide off her lap on to the floor where she sat contentedly playing with some of the pods of the peas that had fallen from the pan. "perhaps kate has told you that we are planning to have some women and children who need country air come out from new york this summer and live in a farmhouse that we have on the place here." moya nodded. "she did." "we need a cook. we are going to give them simple food, but nourishing and well cooked." "if it's me you're thinking of for the cooking, ma'am, i'm a poor cook beyond potaties and stew." "you never were taught to cook?" "taught? no, ma'am. i picked up what little i know from me mother. 'tis simple enough, but too simple for what you need." "if you'll try to learn, here's what we've planned. kate needs a helper. not because she isn't strong and hearty, but because mr. emerson and i want her to have a little more time for pleasure than she has had for a good many years. she won't take a real vacation, so we are going to give her a partial vacation." "me being the helper?" inquired moya, her thin face lighting. "more than the helper. kate has agreed to teach you how to cook all the dishes that it will be necessary to cook for the women and children this summer. you couldn't have a better teacher." "i'm sure of it," answered the young woman, turning gratefully to kate. "i'll do my very best." "you shall have a room for yourself and the baby, and wages," and she named a sum that made moya's eyes burn. "i'm not worth that yet," she cried, "but i know you'll need me to dress respectable, so i'll not refuse it and i'll get some decent things for the baby and mesilf!" "if kate finds that you take hold well she'll teach you more elaborate cooking. there's always a place waiting somewhere for a good cook, and here's your chance to learn to be a really excellent cook." so the problem of obtaining a cook was settled without trouble, and as ethel brown found mrs. schuler not only ready but eager to act as matron, two of the possible difficulties seemed to have proved themselves no difficulties at all. chapter iv plans the work of the carpenters filled in very acceptably the time when the members of the club were toiling at school. a visit of inspection toward the end of june gave the onlookers the greatest satisfaction. "everything is as fine as a fiddle!" exclaimed roger as they all stopped in one of the upstairs rooms. "now it's up to us to do the papering and painting and to concoct some furniture." so it was decided that all the bedrooms should have white paint and walls of delicate hues and that mrs. schuler's office should be pink with white paint and white curtains at the windows. "we can get very pretty papers for ten cents a roll," said margaret. "i saw some beauties when i went to the paperers to get some flowery papers for james to cut out when he was pasting decorations on to our christmas ship boxes." "are you going to use wall paper?" asked miss merriam quickly. "aren't we?" inquired margaret. "it didn't occur to me that there was anything else. there is paper on the walls now." "it's a lot more sanitary to have the walls kalsomined, i know that," said james in a superior tone. "haven't you heard father say so a dozen times?" "i suppose i have, now i think about it," replied margaret. "it stands to reason that there would be less chance for germs to hide." "do you suppose these old walls are in good enough condition to go uncovered?" asked roger, passing his hand over a suspicious bulge that forced the paper out, and casting his eye at the ceiling which was veined with hair cracks. "probably the walls will not be in the pink of condition," returned mrs. morton; "but, even so, color-washing will be better than papering." "we can go over them and fill up the cracks," suggested tom, "and we can whitewash the ceilings." "that's what i should advise," said miss merriam. "put the walls and ceilings in as good condition as you can, and then put on your wash. kalsomining is rather expensive, but there are plenty of color washes now that any one can put on who can wield a whitewash brush." "me for the whitewash brush at an early date," roger sang gayly. "what do you suggest for these upstairs floors, miss merriam? grandfather thought they weren't bad enough to have new ones laid, but they do look rather rocky, don't they?" he cast a disparaging glance at the boards under his feet, and waited for help. "were you planning to paint them?" "yes," roger nodded. "then you ought to putty up the cracks first. that will make them smooth enough. they're not really rough, you see. it's the spaces between the planks that make them seem so." "that's easily done. we thought we'd paint these old floors and stain the new ones down stairs." "i'd do that. paint these floors tan or gray, if you want them to confess frankly that they're painted floors, or the shade of some wood if you want to pretend that they're hard wood floors." james moved uneasily. roger guessed the reason. "what's the matter, old man? treasury low?" "it always is," answered james uncomfortably. "how are we going to fill it?" "that's what i've been thinking," ethel brown said meditatively. "it's time we did something to earn something." "everybody i've sold cookies to all winter seems to have stopped eating them," complained ethel brown. "i'm thinking of getting up a cooky sale to relieve my financial distress." "there's an idea," cried tom. "why can't we have a cooky sale--with a few other things thrown in--and use the proceeds for the decoration and furnishing of rose house?" "we've had so many entertainments; can we do anything different enough for the rosemonters to be willing to come?" "and spend?" "i think the rosemonters have great confidence in our getting up something new and interesting; ditto the glen pointers," insisted margaret who lived at glen point and knew the opinions of her neighbors. "where could we have it--_it_ meaning our sale or whatever we decide to have?" "why not have it here? let's wait until the boys have the house all painted and whitewashed and colorwashed so it looks as fresh as possible, and then tell the town what it is we are trying to do this summer, and ask them over here to see what it looks like." "good enough. when they see that it's good as far as it goes, but that our fresh air people will be mighty uncomfortable if they don't have some beds to sleep in and a few other trifles of every day use, they'll buy whatever we have to sell. that's the way it seems to me," and roger threw himself down on the grass before the front door with an air of having said the final word. "let's ask the people of _rose_mont to come to _rose_ house to a _rose_ fête," cried ethel blue, while every one of her hearers waved his handkerchief at the suggestion. "i'll draw a poster with the announcement on it," she went on, "and we can have it printed on pink paper and the boys can go round on their bicycles and distribute them at every house." "we must have everything pink, of course. pink ice cream and cakes with pink icing--" "and pink strawberries--" "not green ones! no, sir!" "and watermelons if we can get some that won't make too much trouble for dr. hancock." "how are we going to serve them? we can't bring china way out here--and we won't have any for rose house until after we give this party to earn it!" "they have paper plates with pretty patterns on them now. and if they cost too much we might get the plain ones and lay a d'oyley of pink paper on each one," suggested margaret. "probably that will be the cheapest and the effect will be just as good, but i'll find out the prices in town," promised delia. "i have a scheme for a table of fancy things," offered dorothy. "let's have it under that tree over there and over it let's hang a huge rose. i think i know how to make it--two hoops, the kind dicky rolls, one above the other, the smaller one on top, and both suspended from the tree. cover them inside and out with big pink paper petals." "how are you going to make it look like a rose and not a pink bell?" inquired delia. "put a green calyx on the top and some yellow stamens inside and then make a stem that will look like the real thing, only gigantic." "how will you manage that?" "do you remember those wild grape vines that helen and ethel brown found in the west woods and used for hallowe'en decorations? if we could get a thick one and wind it with green paper and let it curve from the rose toward the ground it ought to look like a real stem." "we could hang the rose with dark string that wouldn't show, and fasten the stem to the branch of the tree with a pink bow. it would look as if some giant had tied it there for his ladylove." "i have an old pink sash i'll contribute to the good cause," laughed helen. "i've been wondering what to do with it for some time." "everything on the table must be pink and shaped like a rose or decorated with roses--cushions, pen-wipers, baskets, stencilled bureau sets--there are a thousand things to be made." "boxes covered with rose paper," suggested james solemnly. everybody shouted, for james's imagination always seemed to be stimulated whenever he saw a chance to make something with paste-pot and brush. "how about music?" this question brought silence, for it was not easy to arrange for music in the open. "i wish edward and his violin were here," said delia, referring to her brother, dr. watkins, who had recently gone to oklahoma to assist an older physician in a flourishing town there. he had been very attentive to miss merriam and she was annoyed to find herself blushing at the mention of his name. ethel blue, who had been in his confidence, was the only one of the young people who glanced at her, however, so her annoyance passed unnoticed. "he isn't, and a piano is out of the question. i wonder, if greg patton would bring his fiddle?" "why didn't we think of him before! he and some of the other high school boys have been getting up a little orchestra; i shouldn't wonder a bit if they'd be glad to help--glad of the experience of playing in public." "we haven't got to make oceans of paper roses, this time," remarked ethel brown gratefully. "nature is doing the work for us." she waved her hand at the clump of bushes which was to conceal dorothy's fortune telling operations, and which was pink with blossoms. "our bushes at home are loaded down with them, too," said margaret. "everybody's are, so i don't suppose it would be worth while to have a flower table." "there's no harm in trying. we could say on the poster that exceptionally choice roses will be on exhibition and sale and--and why couldn't we take orders for the bushes? use the beauties for samples and if people like them, get roots from the bushes they came from and supply them the next day!" ethel blue was quite breathless with the force of this suggestion and the others applauded it. "just as i think of ethel blue as all imagination and dreams she comes out with something practical like that and i have to study her all over again," said roger, observing his cousin with his head on one side. ethel blue threw a leaf at him which he dodged with exaggerated fear. they decided to have the rose fête just as soon as the boys put the house into presentable condition, and then the girls separated, ethel brown and dorothy to see mr. emerson about securing the boxes, helen and margaret to measure the windows for curtains, delia and ethel blue to work out the design for converting ordinary chinese lanterns into roses which they had thought of as lending a charm to the veranda and the lawn after the sun went down, and the boys to calculate the quantities of putty and paint and color-wash, based on information given roger by the local painter and decorator, who was quite willing to help with advice when he found that there was no chance of his own services being called into play. chapter v the rose fÃ�te the united service club had made so good a name for itself in rosemont during the few months of its existence that when ethel blue's posters brought to their doors the news that the u. s. c. was to give a rose fête at rose house the townspeople were eager to know what attraction the members had devised. the schools were still in session so the ethels and dorothy at the graded school and helen and roger and the orchestra boys at the high school made themselves into an advertising band and told everybody all about the purpose of the festival. the scholars carried the information home, and there were few houses in rosemont where it was not known that mr. emerson's old farmhouse was to be turned into a summer home for weary mothers and ailing babies. helen and margaret, after consulting with their mothers and mrs. smith and mrs. emerson, had decided that a cot or single bed and two cribs ought to go in each bedroom except moya's, where one crib would be enough. this meant that five beds and nine cribs must be provided, and the number made the girls look serious as they calculated the probable proceeds of the rose fête and subtracted from them the amount that they would have to pay the local furniture dealer, even though he, being a public spirited and charitable man, offered them a discount. for a day or two they went about in a state of depression, for they had hoped to be able to supply the furnishings without making any appeal to the grownups. thanks to dorothy they could discount any expense for bureaus and desks and tables, but their ambition did not soar to constructing bedsteads; these had to be bought or given. it became evident after a number of householders had inquired how they could help, that there was a chance that the u. s. c. treasury might not be reduced after all by the purchase of beds. when one lady was informed by helen of their schemes for filling the rooms--how the carpenters had provided them with a table that would do for the dining-room and how shelves innumerable were to do duty for innumerable purposes,--and she had added ruefully, "but we can't make very good beds, and we do want the women to sleep well, poor things. we've got to buy those--" she had cried, "why, i have a cot in my attic that i should be _delighted_ to let you have, and my daughter's little boy has outgrown his crib and i'm sure she'll contribute that." a week before the fête, however, they had been promised all the bedsteads they needed--though some lacked springs, some mattresses, and almost all were without pillows--four cribs, half a dozen chairs and two high chairs, and a collection of odd pieces. helen refused nothing but double beds; there was not space enough for those in a bedroom with three people in it; it would seem to the women too much like the crowded tenements they came from, she thought. miss merriam objected also, on the ground that it was not well for babies to sleep with grown people. "what do you think of this plan?" ethel brown asked her mother after the girls had made a careful list of their gifts. "we did think that if we didn't have a stick in the house the people would be interested in helping us because of our poverty. we've found out that they are awfully interested even without seeing the house. do you think it would be a good scheme to put into the rooms the things we have ready and to fasten on the door a notice saying 'this room needs' and under that a list of what is lacking? don't you think some of them would say, 'i've got an extra cushion at home that would do for a pillow here; i'll send it over'; or 'don't you remember that three legged chair that used to be in joe's room? i believe these children can mend it and paint it to look well enough for this room'?" "ethel brown, you're running ethel blue hard in the line of ideas!" cried roger admiringly from a position at the door which he had taken as he passed through the hall and heard discussion going on. "it's a capital idea," agreed mrs. morton. "you'd better ask grandfather again for a wagon and go around and collect the things that have been promised. you don't want to bother people to send them over themselves." every one worked with vigor during the last few days before the festival, for the renovating of old furniture takes more time than any one ever expects it to. the results were so satisfactory, however, that neither the boys nor the girls gave a thought to their tired hands and backs when evening brought them release from their labors. the great day was clear, and, for the last of june, cool. every plan worked out well and every helper appeared at the moment he was wanted. the box seats and tables, superintended by ethel brown and served by half a dozen friends all wearing white dresses and pink aprons, bloomed rosily on the veranda. under the large rose delia and ethel blue, dressed in pink, sold fancy articles. dorothy, sitting "under the rose" in the rose jungle, and dressed like a moss rose, with a filmy green tunic draping her pink frock, described brilliant futures to laughing inquirers. margaret, dressed to represent the yellow scottish roses, sold flowers from the ethels' garden and took orders for rose bushes. the boys were everywhere, opening ice cream tubs for moya in the background, guiding would-be players to the tennis court and the croquet ground, and directing new arrivals where to tie their horses and park their motors. every member of the club was provided with a small notebook wherein to jot down any bit of advice that was offered and seemed profitable or to record any offer of fittings that might be made. helen took no regular duty, leaving herself free to go over the house with any one who wanted to know the club's plans, and she had more frequent need than any of the others to use her book. ethel brown's scheme had been followed. on the door of each room was posted a list of articles needed to complete the furnishing of that room. "they certainly aren't greedy!" exclaimed one matron after reading the notice. "this says that this room is complete except for bed clothing." she waved her hand around with some scorn. helen dimpled with amusement. "we thought we'd make one room as nearly complete as we could," she explained. "you see this has a bed, two cribs, a looking-glass, and shelves as substitutes for a washstand and a closet and a table and a bureau. "there are no chairs, child!" "these two boxes are the chairs. we had a few chairs given us but they'll be needed down stairs. we think they'll have more exercise than any chairs ever had before. they'll be used in the dining-room for breakfast, and then they'll be moved to the veranda to spend the morning, and in they'll come again for dinner and out they'll go for the afternoon, and in for supper, and after supper they'll be moved into the hall which is to serve as the sitting room!" helen's hearer pressed her hand to her head. "you make me positively dizzy!" she exclaimed. "at any rate i'd like to make this room complete according to your notions, so i'll send you some sheets and pillow cases and blankets and a spread if you'll allow me." "we'll be glad to have them," accepted helen, beaming. "roger will call for them if that will be more convenient for you," and she made a note of the gift and the time when it should be sent after. other women remembered as they examined the door lists that they had a mattress that could be spared, or a pillow or two or a pair of summer blankets. "what are you going to do for ornaments," asked another. helen laughed. "james hancock has an idea for decorating the walls so that they'll interest the babies, and we're going to have fresh cheese-cloth curtains at all the windows, but that's the end of our possibilities." "i have several bureau scarves that are in good condition but they have been washed so many times that they're a little faded. if you'd like those--?" she ended with an upward inflection. "we would," replied helen promptly. "could you use some prints of pictures--good paintings?" inquired yet another, a person whose taste helen knew could be trusted. "we'd be glad of them. we can frame them in passepartout. we'd be especially glad of madonnas." "that's just what i was going to offer you. a club i once belonged to studied celebrated paintings of madonnas one winter and i made this collection. many of them are only penny prints and some are cut from magazines--". "they're perfectly good for us," helen reassured her, and made another note in her book. most of the visitors went home with the falling dark, but some stayed to see the rose lanterns lighted, and others, who had not been able to come in the afternoon, drove or walked out from town in the evening and were served with ice cream and strawberries from a supply that had been wonderfully well calculated. "let us have just a week to spend this money and to make up the sheets and pillow cases and curtains and you can tell mr. watkins to send out the women," helen announced triumphantly to delia. "i'm going to spend the week with margaret so i can come over with her every day and help," returned smiling delia. "then we shan't need a whole week. when you go home to-night please ask your father to be making his selection--four mothers with two children apiece. you and tom can escort them out on the tuesday after fourth of july." chapter vi furniture making it did not take the women long to adjust themselves to life at rose house, and as for the children, they loved it from the first. it was a great international gathering that was sheltered on the old farm. mrs. schuler was german; moya, irish. mrs. peterson, a swede, occupied the rooster room with her baby and her flaxen-haired daughter of three; mrs. paterno, an italian, found good pasturage among the cows of the violet room for her black-eyed boys of two and four; mrs. tsanoff, a bulgarian, told the matron that her twin girl babies were too young to pay attention to the kittens on the curtains of the yellow room; while mrs. vereshchagin, a russian, discovered that the puppies of the blue room were a great help to her in holding the attention of her boys of three and five when she was putting them to bed. mrs. schuler shook her head doubtfully when she took down their names and nationalities in her notebook on the day of their arrival. "if we get through the summer without quarrels over the war it will be a miracle!" she exclaimed to her husband. but she found that the poor creatures were too weary, too sad, too physically crushed to have spirit enough left to fight any battles, even those of words. with almost every one of them there had been a tragedy such as often comes to the immigrants who reach the united states equipped for success only with strong muscles--a tragedy of wasted hope and broken courage and failing vigor if not of death. mrs. paterno was the only one of them who could sympathize with moya's widowhood; her husband had seen the black hand death sign a few months before, had disregarded it and had been stabbed in the back one night as he came home from his work. conversation was not carried on fluently among them. they met on the common ground of english, but not one of them could speak it well, each one translated phrases of her own tongue quite literally, and the meaning of the whole talk was largely a matter of guesswork. what they did understand was nature's language of motherhood. they were content to sit for hours on the veranda or in the grove or behind the house, preparing vegetables for moya, chattering about their babies and explaining their meaning by gestures that seemed to be perfectly understood. the women had daily duties to perform according to a schedule worked out by mrs. schuler, who apportioned to each a share of the general work of the house in addition to the care of her own room and the washing for herself and her children. with so many fingers flying the tasks were soon done, and then they sat on the porch or in the grove among the sweet-smelling pines, or walked in the pasture or up and down the lane leading to the main road. once in a while they went to rosemont, but for the most part they were too languid to care to walk far and too glad of the change and the rest and quiet to want to weary themselves unnecessarily. the boys had built a platform across the back of the house, and it was here that they did their carpentry, an awning sheltering them from the sun or rain. a cupboard at one end held their tools, and their partly finished articles were neatly stacked in a corner. as they got out their tools now james made a confession. "to tell you the honest, unvarnished truth, i'm tired of making chairs. it seems as if we'd never have enough." "it takes an awful lot to furnish a house," commented roger wisely, "and you know we had very few given us so if we want enough we have to make them." "we've got all the chairs you've done upholstered all they're going to be," said ethel brown. "why can't ethel blue and i each make a high chair?" "no reason at all," agreed roger quickly. "you've watched james and me and seen our really superior workmanship; imitate it, my child!" the girls were already turning over the boys' supply of boxes to select those suitable for the chairs for the children. they took four that had held lemons or other fruit and were tall and narrow when stood on end. the boards they were made of were very light but quite solid enough to hold the weight of a small child. to make it firm upon the ground, however, they sawed a piece of heavy plank a little larger than the end upon which the box was to stand and nailed it on from the inside. when the high chair was done the boys complimented their co-workers on the success of their first experiment. "i hardly could have done it better myself," said roger grandly. all the high chairs were covered with blue and white cretonne to match the blue and white of the dining room and the girls set to work to tack on the outside covering and to cut out the covers of the small cushions that were to make the seat and back comfortable. the cushions themselves they had made from ticking filled with excelsior when they had calculated the number of high chairs they must have. the boys, meanwhile were constructing two chairs of quite different build. one was a heavy chair for the hall or the veranda, its original condition being a packing box a foot and a half deep, about twenty inches wide and three or four feet long. this also was set on end, and the other end and the cover were laid aside to be used in making the seat and in shutting in the openings below the seat. "how are you going to fasten that seat so it won't let the sitter down on the floor?" inquired ethel blue, as james explained what he was going to do. "do you see these cleats, ma'am? these are each a foot long. i nail one of these standing up straight at each edge of the sides and the back--six of them altogether. then i lay three other cleats across their tops--thusly." "o, you've made a sort of framework that will support the seat! i get that!" exclaimed ethel blue. "all you have to do now is to nail your seat boards on to those horizontal cleats and it's as firm as firm can be." "aren't you going to do something with those sides--those arms, or whatever you call them?" inquired ethel brown. "they seem sharp and uncomfortable and in the way to me." both boys studied the chair seriously before answering. then they took a pencil and paper and consulted. "i should think it would look pretty well to cut out a right angle on each aide," suggested james. "that would leave a sort of wing effect like a hall porter's chair, only not so high, and at the same time it would make an arm to rest your elbow on. how does that strike you ?" roger nodded. "it hits me all right. i was thinking of a curve instead of a right angle, but the right angle will be easier to make. go ahead." so the right angle was decided on and james proceeded to cut it. roger, meanwhile, had been sorting out the wood he needed for a chair of another pattern. "i wish dorothy would heave in sight," he growled as he piled some half inch thick strips in one heap. "she told me she'd tell me all she knew about chair legs when i reached this stage of proceedings." "she will," answered a cheerful voice, and gray-eyed dorothy appeared from the house. "i felt in my bones that you'd be beginning this lot this afternoon, so i ambled over to see if i could help in any way." "keep right on ambling till you reach this end of the platform and tell me whether you said that chair legs could be made of this stripping or whether i'll have to get solid pieces, square-ended, you know, joist or scantling or whatever it's called." "strips will do, only you'll have to use two for each leg. nail them together at right angles. it will make a two-sided leg, but it will be plenty strong enough, though perhaps not truly handsome." "if handsomeness means solidity--no. still, they'll do. can you give me the lengths for these strips?" and roger waved his saw at his cousin as if he were so impatient to begin that he could not wait to study out the lengths for himself. "for the one i made for the attic," replied his cousin, "i cut four strips each two inches wide and twenty-one inches long for the front legs and four strips each two inches wide and twenty-five inches long for the back legs. then there were two two-inch strips seventeen inches long to go under the seat to strengthen it front and back, and two two-inch strips each thirteen inches long to go under the seat and strengthen it on the sides. that's all the stock you need except the box." "i suppose you've got a particular box in mind to fit those sizes." "those sizes fit the box, rather. yes, i got a grocery box that was about eighteen inches long and thirteen wide and eleven deep. i saw one here just like it before i gave you those measurements, so you can go ahead sawing while i pull off one side of the box--the cover has gone already but we don't need it." quiet reigned for a few minutes while they all worked briskly. "now i'm ready to put this superb article together," announced roger. "how high from the ground does the seat go?" "nail your cleats across with their top edges fifteen inches from the ground and nail the bottom of the box on to the cleats. see how these two-sided legs protect the edges of the box as well as make it decent looking?" "so they do," admitted roger. "they aren't so bad after all." "i think those sides are going to be too high," decided dorothy after examining the chair carefully and sitting down in it. "don't you think it pushes your elbows up too high?" roger tried it and thought it did. "suppose you saw those sides down about five inches." roger obeyed and dorothy tried the chair again and pronounced it much improved. "it's comfy enough now, but these arms don't look very well, and they'd be liable to tear your sleeves," she said. "let's put on some strip covers. they'll give a finish to the whole thing, and hide the end of the two-sided legs and be smooth." "plenty of reason for having them. how many inches?" "twelve," answered dorothy after measuring. "the top of the back needs a strip cover, too. cut another nineteen inches long. there, _i_ think that's not such a bad looking chair!'" "do you want cushions for those chairs?" inquired ethel brown, appearing at the door with a piece of cretonne in her hand. "we've got material enough for at least seat cushions for both of them." "they'll be lots more comfy," admitted james, "if the excelsior crop is still holding out." "it is. i'll make them right off, and ethel blue can help you out there." she retired from view and sent out her cousin, and until the sun set the two boys and dorothy and ethel measured and sawed and nailed, with results that satisfied them so well that they did not mind being tired. chapter vii trouble at rose house "if it weren't that i could come out here and see you every day or so i should be wild to get back to work in oklahoma." edward watkins was the speaker. he and miss merriam were walking through a wooded path that ran from rosemont to rose house. the day was warm and the shade of the trees was grateful. "how is your patient?" asked gertrude. "getting on very well, but the doctors won't let him travel yet." "have you heard lately from your doctor in oklahoma?" "i hear about every day! i was with him just long enough for him to find that i was useful and he's wild to have me there again. i wired him that i'm ready to go, but that the sick man is nervous about making the return trip alone. of course he wants to keep on the good side of a good patient, so he answered, 'stay on'." "are you able to do anything for your patient? he's still in the hospital, isn't he?" "i go there every day and he sends me on errands all over town. i'm getting to know almost as much about oil as i do about medicine! but i'm rather tired of playing errand boy." "you have a chance to see your family." "and you. but i'm supposed to stay at the hotel, much to mother's disgust. i'm doing a little medical inspection among father's poor people, though. that whiles away a few hours every day, and of course, every time i go to the hospital the doctors there tell me about any interesting new cases, so i'm not 'going stale' entirely." "as if you could!" exclaimed gertrude admiringly. "you're just storing up ideas and information to startle the oklahoman natives with." "the 'natives' in oklahoma are all too young to be startled," laughed edward, "but of course i'm stowing away everything new i hear about methods of treatment and operations and so on to tell dr. billings when i get back. now let me hear what you've been doing. how are these kiddies at rose house?" "i want you to look them over and talk with the mothers. dr. hancock comes over when we send for him, but all these people are so delicate that i feel that they ought to have a physician's eye on them all the time." "they have you pretty often, don't they?" "i go over every day either in the morning or the afternoon, and i give them advice about the babies, and teach them and moya how to prepare their food, but they do such strange things that you can't forestall because you never had the wildest idea that any woman in her senses would treat a baby so." edward laughed. "russian and bulgarian peasant customs, i suppose. i never shall forget the first time i saw a two-day old negro baby sucking a bit of fat bacon. i nearly had a chill." "didn't the child have a chill?" "not the slightest! if they get ahead of you with some pleasing little trick like that you can console yourself with the thought that generally there is some basis of old-time experience that has shown it to be not so harmful as we are apt to think." "i've done enough tenement house work to know that the babies certainly survive extraordinary treatment, but these babies here are so delicate that they ought to have the most careful diet. most of them need real nursing." "do you think your talks are making any impressions on the mothers?" "sometimes mrs. schuler and i think so, and just then it almost always happens that one of them does something totally unexpected that gives our hopes a terrible blow." "let's trust that this is a good day; i'd rather talk to you than work over a case this fine afternoon." gertrude smiled at his tone and they walked on in silence out of the wood and across the brook and down the lane that brought them to the back of rose house where the club boys and girls were busy making a piece of furniture of some sort. mrs. schuler was talking to moya in the kitchen. "i've brought dr. watkins to see everybody," announced miss merriam gayly. "where are they all?" "the ones who are at home are up in the pine grove, but moya has just told me that mrs. paterno and her older boy and mrs. tsanoff and one of the twins have gone to town." "walked?" "walked by the road on this scorching day!" miss merriam turned to the doctor. "this is one of the unexpected events we were just talking about. little paterno is four and too large for that little woman to carry, and far too small and weak to take that long walk on his own legs even on a more suitable day than this, and the tsanoff twins are just holding on to life by the tips of their fingers!" she sat down in despair. dr. watkins looked serious. "is there any way of heading them off or bringing them back. can we reach them anywhere by telephone?" "no one knows where they can have gone. it seems it must have been about an hour and a half ago that they started and i should think they'd be back before long if they're able to come back--" "--under their own steam!" finished the doctor with a doubtful smile. "let's go to the grove and see the women and children there and perhaps the others will be in sight by the time you've finished your examination." they turned toward the pines whose thick needles cast a heavy shade upon the ground and gave forth a delicious fragrance under the rays of the sun. as they disappeared mrs. schuler went out on the platform where the carpentering operations were going on. "i'm so disturbed about those women," she said, "i've come to see what you're doing to divert my mind from them." "we're going to make two of these seats, one for your office and the other for the veranda," said ethel brown, standing erect and putting a hand upon her weary back. the rest of the young carpenters stopped their work and wiped their perspiring foreheads while they explained the construction of the piece of furniture to their friend. "this long narrow box is the seat, you see. it's a shoe case, and it's just the right height for comfort. roger has put hinges on the cover, so you can use it for a chest and keep rugs and cushions inside." "that's about as simple as it could be. does it take all of you to help roger do that?" "o, that's only a part of the entire affair. we're making these two sets of shelves to go at the ends of the seat." "i see. a great light breaks on me!" "they're to be fastened to the ends of the seat." "not for keeps. that's ethel blue's patent. she said it would be awkward to move about if it were all built together, so we're making it in three parts, and we're going to lock them together with hooks and screw eyes." "that is clever! then if you want to you can use these sets of shelves for little bookcases in another room or you can fasten on one of them and not the other." "ethel blue and i thought we'd make pink cushions for your office if you'd like them." "i think they'd be charming. that pink room raises my spirits when--" "--when you get _blue_?" suggested roger. "i'll have to go there now to get revived if those women who walked to town don't turn up soon," and the matron went to the corner of the house whence she could see the lane that led from the road. "if they come home ill i'll have to ask you to make two bed trays," she suggested as she peered across the grass. "how do you make them?" "ask ethel blue." "merely put legs on a light board so that the weight of the plates will be lifted from the sick person's legs as he sits up in bed." "what's to prevent the plates sliding off?" "nothing if he's much of a kicker, i should say," laughed roger; "but you could put a little fence an inch or two high at the back and sides and keep them on board." "you'd better begin them right off," said mrs. schuler dryly, "for here they come." she disappeared around the corner and the young people followed to see what was the matter. trouble there was in very truth. mrs. paterno led the way stumbling and running. her face was flushed a deep, threatening crimson and her breath came fast. by the arm she held little pietro, who from exhaustion had ceased to scream and merely gave a gulping moan when the gravel scraped his bare knees as his mother jerked him along regardless of whether he was on his feet or whether she dragged him. behind them at some distance came mrs. tsanoff carrying her baby in her arms--one of the twins that always seemed to be merely "holding on to life by the tips of its fingers," to use gertrude's expression, and now seemed to have lost even that frail hold. it lay in its mother's arms white and with its eyes closed. mrs. schuler ran to meet the italian woman and lifted the worn child into her arms where he sank against her shoulder as if in a faint. "run up in the grove and get dr. watkins and miss gertrude," helen said to roger. "ask them quietly to come here. don't frighten the women." roger dashed away, his swift feet slowing to a walk as he neared the bit of woods where he delivered his message in an undertone. ethel blue meanwhile, had rushed into the house to tell moya to heat plenty of water and to crack some ice, and margaret had opened mrs. schuler's closet of simple remedies and found the bottle of aromatic spirits of ammonia. ethel brown and james ran to meet mrs. tsanoff, ethel taking the baby from her and james steadying her shaking steps by a stout arm under her elbow. as dr. watkins ran around the corner of the house he came upon helen trying to help mrs. paterno, who was pushing her away with both hands, while she kept looking over her shoulder and screaming hysterically. edward seized her hands and commanded her attention at once by speaking to her in italian. although she did not know him she responded to his command to tell him of what she was afraid, and poured out a story of terror. "_mano, nera, mano nera_--the black hand," she repeated over and over again, and edward, who had heard her history, realized that something she had seen had set her mind in the old train of thought. while miss merriam attended to the children he calmed the woman and then turned her over to mrs. schuler with instructions to put her to bed in a darkened room and to see that some one stayed with her or just outside her door. fortunately for the doctor his experience with the people among whom his father worked in his east side chapel had given him a smattering of many languages and he was able to make out from mrs. tsanoff, although her fright and fatigue had made her forget almost all the english she knew, what had terrified her companion. they had gone to the stationery shop of the englishman who also sold ice cream and soda, she said, and they had had each a glass of soda and the children had each had an ice cream cone. edward groaned and over his shoulder directed delia to run and tell miss merriam that both babies had had ice cream cones. "it will help her to know what to do until i come," he explained. just as they were coming out of the store a dark man who looked like an italian had passed them. so far as she noticed he had paid no attention to them, but mrs. paterno had seized her arm, pointing after him, and then had picked up pietro and started to run toward home. neither far nor fast could she go in such heat with such a burden and the poor little chap was soon tossed down and forced to run with giant strides all the rest of the eternal mile that stretched between rosemont and rose house. mrs. tsanoff herself had followed as fast as she could because she was afraid that something, she knew not what, would happen to her friend. she, too, was sent to bed, with moya standing over her to lay cool compresses on her eyes, to sponge her wrists and ankles with cool water and to lay an occasional bit of cracked ice on her parched lips. the condition of the two children was pitiable. the heat, the sudden chill from the ice cream and the terrible homeward rush sent them both so nearly into a collapse that the doctor, mrs. schuler and miss merriam worked over them all night, resting only when dr. hancock, who had heard the story from james and margaret and came up to see the state of affairs, relieved them for an hour. "how are we ever going to teach them the madness of such behavior?" gertrude asked wearily as dr. watkins insisted that she and mrs. schuler should go to bed as the dawn broke. "the poor little italian woman is almost mad already, thanks to this black hand business. it will take her a long time to recover her balance, but i think i can teach the others a lesson from this experience of their friends. wait till to-morrow comes and hear me talk five languages at once," he promised cheerfully as he turned her over to mrs. schuler. chapter viii some entertainment the escapade of the italian and bulgarian women played havoc with the calm of rose house for several days. the women themselves had narrow escapes from illness and the children were so seriously ill that a trained nurse had to be sent up from the glen point hospital, as neither miss merriam nor mrs. schuler could undertake nursing in addition to their other work. when all was well again miss merriam redoubled her efforts to teach the women something of proper care of their children and themselves, and, with the help of dr. watkins's knowledge of languages, she began to hope that she was making some progress. mrs. tsanoff and mrs. peterson, who had little babies, were taught to modify milk for them, the dangers of giving small children foods unsuited to their age was talked about now with the recent experience to point the moral; and ways of keeping well in hot weather were explained and listened to with interest. substitutes for meat were discussed earnestly, chiefly on account of the high cost of living but also because meat was declared to be far too heating for warm weather use. each of the women knew of some dish which took the place of meat and she was glad to tell the others about it. mrs. paterno knew very well that cheese is one of the best substitutes for meat that there is. "americans eat cheesa after meata; then sick," she declared with truth. her receipt for a risotto moya wrote down in the blank book in which she was collecting recipes and mrs. paterno beamed when it came onto the table. chiefly for the purpose of giving the little italian woman a change of thought, the u. s. c. made a point of providing rose house with some sort of entertainment every few days. once they introduced the inmates to an american hayride, and the four women, with moya and the older children, screamed with delight as they found themselves moving slowly along on a real load of hay--for grandfather emerson declared that that was the only kind of hayride worth having. again they all stowed themselves away in the automobile and went to a pond ten miles away for a day's picnic. that proved not to be a success, for everybody was so tired all the next day that there was a nearer approach to disagreement among them than ever happened before. mrs. schuler made up her mind that home--meaning rose house--was the best place for them and that amusements must be found at home and not afield. chapter ix a new kind of grass seed "your grand-father told me once about a field he had that was filled with daisies," said ethel blue. "it looked awfully pretty, but it spoiled the field for a pasture; the cows wouldn't touch them." "i remember that field. we used to make daisy chains and trim mother's room with them," said ethel brown. "mr. emerson tried ploughing up the field and he had men working over it for two seasons, but on the third, up they grew again as gay as you please. they acted as if he had just been stirring up the soil so they would grow better than ever." "poor grandfather; he had a hard time with that field." "he said he really needed it for a pasture, so he made up his mind that if he couldn't root out the bad plants, he'd crowd them out. so he bought some seed of a kind of grass that has large, strong roots, and he sowed it in the field. as soon as it began to grow he could see that there certainly were not so many daisies there. he kept on another year and the cows began to look over the fence as if they'd like to get in. the third year there were so few daisies that they didn't count." "i remember all that," said ethel brown, "but what does it have to do with mrs. paterno?" "why, if we--or edward--could make her get a grip on herself and control herself that would be like mr. emerson's digging up the daisies. it would be hard work and an awfully slow process. but if we also could fill her mind with thoughts about working for her children and trying to make other people happy and with making embroidery which she loves to do, why wouldn't it help? these new things she's thinking about would be like the strong, new grass seed that didn't give the weeds a chance to grow." dorothy stared seriously at ethel blue. "she does perfectly beautiful embroidery," she said slowly, as she tried to think out a way to put ethel blue's suggestion into effect. "do you suppose she'd be willing to teach us how to do it? that beautiful italian cut work, you know. if we should call ourselves a class and ask her to teach us it might give her something quite new to think about." "i'd like to learn, too," agreed ethel blue. "i heard mother say once that there was a school in new york for italian lace work. let's get delia to find out about it, and when mrs. paterno grows stronger and goes back to the city she might go there. they have a shop uptown where they sell the pupils' work. the class here and the prospect of having regular employment when she went back--" "work she likes." "what are you youngsters plotting?" asked the cheerful voice of grandfather emerson, who came around the big oak from the grass grown lane so quietly that they did not hear him coming. they told him their plan, and he listened intently. "the poor little woman has had such a shock that it will be a long time before she can control herself, i'm afraid," he responded sympathetically, "but i believe you've hit on the right way." "then we'll get edward watkins to ask her whether she'll be willing to teach a class, and we'll all join it." "the other women might like to learn, too." "perhaps they could teach. bulgarian embroidery has been fashionable lately, you know, and the peasant women do it." "your grandmother and i went through a peasant's bazar when we were in petrograd and there were mounds of embroidery there that the peasant women had made." "the swedes do beautiful work. why don't we have a class for international embroidery?" laughed dorothy. "i think mother would like to learn the russian; she's crazy about russian music and everything russian." "we'll ask mother and grandmother, too, and perhaps the miss clarks would come and the women could charge a fee and make a little money teaching us and be amused themselves." "i dare say it will do the others good as well as the little italian. you've hit on something that will benefit all of them while you were trying to help mrs. paterno," surmised mr. emerson. "what i came over here this morning to see you about was this," he went on in a business-like tone that made them look at him attentively. "grandmother and i think that mrs. paterno has been a trifle too exciting for you young people the last few days. we think you need a change of thought as well as that young woman herself." they all sat and waited for what was coming, quite unable to guess what proposition he was going to make. "helen and roger are somewhat older and stand such upheavals a little better than you girls, so my plan doesn't include them." "just us three?" asked ethel brown. "just you three. here's my scheme; see if you like it. i have to go over to boston to-morrow on a matter of business and it occurred to me that it would be a pleasant sail on the sound and that you'd be interested in seeing the city--" "o--o!" gasped dorothy; "cambridge and longfellow's house." "concord and lexington!" cried ethel brown. "the art museum!" murmured ethel blue. "and bunker hill monument, and, of course, the navy yard especially for this daughter of a sailor," and he nodded gayly at his granddaughter. "grandmother will go, to take you around when i have to attend to my business, and we can stay a day or two and come back fresh to attend to mrs. paterno's affairs. how does it strike you?" without any preliminary conference, the three girls flung their arms around his neck and hugged him heartily. "have you talked about it with mother and aunt louise?" asked ethel brown. "i'm armed with their permission." "i guess we were all worrying about mrs. paterno," admitted ethel blue. "this will be the strong grass seed that will clear up our minds so that we can help her better after we come back." "i think you're the most magnificent grandfather that ever was born!" exclaimed ethel brown, standing back and gazing admiringly at her ancestor. "thank you," returned mr. emerson, bowing low, his hand on his heart, "i am quite overcome by such a wholesale tribute!" "had we better tell mrs. schuler about the embroidery class plan?" asked dorothy. "run up to rose house now and explain it to her and ask her to talk to the women about it while you are gone, and then when you get back she'll have it all ready to start," mr. emerson suggested. the next twenty-four hours were full of excitement. each of the girls had only a small handbag to pack, but the selection of what should go into each bag seemed a matter of infinite importance. the ethels filled their bags twice before they were satisfied that they had not left out anything that would be wanted, and dorothy confessed that she had first put in too much and then had gone to the other extreme, and that it had not been until after she had had a consultation with her mother that she had decided on just the number and kind of garments that she would need for a two-day trip to the hub of the universe. "why is it called that?" she asked of ethel brown. "i asked mother and she said that people from new york and other cities used to say that bostonians thought that their town was the centre of civilization. so they guyed it by calling it the 'hub'." roger and helen went into new york with the travellers and delia and margaret were on the pier to see the steamer leave. it was a glorious afternoon and the boat slipped around the end of the battery while the westering sun was still shining brilliantly on the water, touching it with sparkles on the tip of each tiny wave. the statue of liberty, with the sun behind it, towered darkly against the gold. the huge buildings of the lower city stretched skywards, the new equitable, the latest addition to the mammoth group, shutting off almost entirely the view of the singer tower from the harbor, just as the woolworth tower hides it from observers on the north. between them grandfather and grandmother emerson were able to point out nearly all of the sights of the east river--several parks and playgrounds, bellevue hospital, the vanderbilt model tenements for people threatened with tuberculosis, the junior league hotel for self-supporting women, the old dwelling where dorothy's friend, the "box furniture lady," had established a school to teach the folk of the neighborhood how to use tools for the advantage of their house-furnishings. the boat was one of those which steams around cape cod instead of stopping at fall river, rhode island, and sending its passengers to boston by train. early morning found them all on deck watching the waters of massachusetts bay and trying to place on a map that mr. emerson produced from his pocket the towns whose church spires they could see pointing skyward far off on their left. twin lighthouses they decided, marked gurnet point, the entrance to plymouth bay, and they strained their eyes to see the town that was the oldest settlement in massachusetts, and imagined they were watching the bulky little mayflower making her way landward between the headlands. mr. emerson convoyed his party to a hotel on copley square and left them there while he went out at once to meet his business friends. "how far away rosemont seems, and poor mrs. paterno with her troubles," she said an hour later as they stood before sargent's panel of the prophets in the public library. chapter x trolleying as for the art museum, they wandered delightedly from one room to another, but went away with a sensation of having seen too much that was almost as uncomfortable as that of having eaten too much. "i should like to come here or to go to the metropolitan in new york with some one who could tell me about every picture or every object in just one room and stay there for an hour and then go away and think about it," said ethel blue. "we will do that some day at the metropolitan," said mrs. emerson. "if the club would like to go in a body some day we can get one of the guides who do just what you describe. we can tell her the sort of thing we want to see--classical statuary or english artists or the morgan collection--and have it all shown to us from the standpoint of the expert critic. or we can put ourselves in the hands of the guide and say that we'd like to see the ten exhibits that the museum looks upon as the choicest." "either way would be wonderful!" beamed ethel blue, and the three girls promised themselves the delight of reporting mrs. emerson's offer to the club at its next meeting. the homeward trip was made by a route quite different from the one by which the party reached boston. grandfather proposed it at breakfast on the morning of the day on which they had intended to leave in the afternoon. "are you people very keen on this drive through the park system to-day?" he asked. the girls did not know what to say, but mrs. emerson scented a new idea and replied "not if you have something to suggest that we'd like better." "how would you like to trolley back to new york?" "trolley back to new york!" repeated the girls with little screeches of joy. "all the way by trolley? how long will it take? i never heard of anything so delightful in all my life!" after such a quick and satisfactory response mr. emerson did not need to lay his plan before them in any further detail. "i see you're 'game,' as roger would say, for anything, so we'll go that way if mother agrees." mrs. emerson did agree and even went so far as to say that she had wanted to do that very thing for a long time. "it's lucky grandfather insisted that we shouldn't bring anything but small handbags," said ethel brown. "these little things we have won't be any trouble at all, no matter how many times we have to change." they started in heavy inter-urban cars which rode as solidly as railroad cars and enabled them to be but very little tired at the end of the first "leg" of the journey. the wide windows permitted views of the country and the girls ran from one side to the other of the closed cars, so that they should not miss anything of interest, and sat on the front seat of the open cars into which they changed later, so that they might have no one in front of them to obstruct their view. they went out of the city straight westward through brookline, through chestnut hill, where is one of the reservoirs from which the city is supplied; past wellesley, where they saw the college buildings rising among the trees on the left. the party reached springfield at dusk and had time to take a walk after dinner. they admired the elm-bordered streets and the comfortable houses, and they thought the arsenal looked extremely peaceful outside in spite of its murderous activities within. it was a deep sleep that visited them all that night. a whole day in the open air with the gentle but continuous exercise provided by the car made them unconscious of their surroundings almost as soon as they touched their pillows. chapter xi the connecticut valley with a long and varied day ahead of them they were delighted to find the morning clear when they awoke. "there are almost as many points of interest in the connecticut river valley as there are on the concord and lexington road," mr. emerson told the girls. "we're going first to holyoke, which is one of the largest paper manufacturing towns in the world. i have a little business to do there and while i am seeing my man you people can take a little walk. be sure you notice the big dam. it's a thousand feet long. the holyoke water power is very unusual." perhaps because they were not experts on water power they were not greatly impressed by the floods of the connecticut river diverted into deep canals and swimming along so smoothly as to impart but little idea of their strength. only the whir of the great mills gave evidence that iron and steel were being moved by it. "how roger would enjoy this!" cried ethel brown, and "wouldn't helen be just crazy over all the history of this region?" added ethel blue, while dorothy, who had travelled much but never without her mother, silently wished that she were there to enjoy it all. "there's another girl's college of note," and mrs. emerson pointed out mt. holyoke at south hadley, northeast of mt tom. "and we're going to see smith college to-day! i feel as if i wanted to go to all of them!" cried ethel blue. "you might take a year at each and find out which was best suited to your temperament," laughed mrs. emerson. from the foot of the mountain they went northward again to northampton. "here's where i ought to go if names count for anything," decided dorothy. "if all the girls named smith who go to college anywhere should go here because of the name there wouldn't be room for any other students," said mr. emerson jokingly. "they say," returned dorothy on the defensive, "that in the beginning all the people in the world were named smith and it was only those who misbehaved who had their names changed." "you can at least pride yourself on their being an industrious lot. think of all their crafts--they were armorers and goldsmiths, and silversmiths and blacksmiths." chapter xii the berkshires and bennington greenfield, where the party spent the night, they found to be a pleasant old town with the wide, tree-bordered streets to which they were growing accustomed in this trolleying pilgrimage. a quiet hotel sheltered them and they slept soundly, their dreams filled with memories of colleges and rose gardens and indians in romantic confusion. the next day they started westward. pittsfield they found to be a large town whose old houses surrounded by ancient trees gave a feeling of solidity and comfort. "longfellow wrote 'the old clock on the stairs' here," said mr. emerson pointing out the appleton house. "the first stanza describes more than one of the old mansions," and he recited:-- "somewhat back from the village street stands the old-fashioned country seat. across its antique portico tall poplar-trees their shadows throw, and from its station in the hall an ancient timepiece says to all,-- 'forever--never! never--forever!'" "i remember that poem, but i never liked it much;" acknowledged dorothy; "it's too gloomy." "it is rather solemn," admitted mr. emerson. "you'll be interested to know that merry dr. holmes used to come to pittsfield in the summer. there are many associations with him in the town." "i'm sure he wrote gayer poems than 'the old clock on the stairs' when he was here." "is this a very old town?" ethel blue asked. "it was settled in . does that seem old to you?" [illustration: "it was settled in "] " ," ethel repeated, doing some subtraction by the aid of her fingers, for arithmetic was not her strong point. "a hundred and eighty-seven years," she decided after reflection. "yes, that seems pretty old to me. it's a lot older than rosemont but over a hundred years younger than plymouth or boston." "a sort of middle age," mr. emerson summed up her decision with a smile. after luncheon at the hotel an early afternoon car sped on with them to a station whence they took an automobile for a drive through stockbridge and lenox with their handsome estates and lovely views. the trolley whizzed them back over the same route to north adams and westward to williamstown. "one of my brothers--your great-uncle james, ethel brown--went to williams college," said mr. emerson, "and i shall be glad to spend the night here and see the town and the buildings i heard him talk so much about." "why don't we get out, then?" "we're going now to bennington, vermont." "vermont! into another state!" exclaimed ethel blue. "when we come back we'll leave the car here." "are those the green mountains?" asked dorothy as the trolley ran into a smoother country than they had been in while traveling in the berkshires, but one which showed a background of long wooded ranges rising length after length against the sky. "those are the green mountains; and this is the 'green mountain state,' and the men who fought in the revolution under ethan allen were the 'green mountain boys'." "but, ranged in serried order, attent on sterner noise, stood stalwart ethan allen and his 'green mountain boys' two hundred patriots listening as with the ears of one, to the echo of the muskets that blazed at lexington!" quoted mrs. emerson. "they were bound northward to the british fort at ticonderoga." "did they get there?" "they took the british completely by surprise. that was in may, . it was in august, two years later that the battle of bennington took place." "we'd better agree to have dinner or supper here if we don't want to get back to williamstown after all the food in the place has been eaten by those hungry college boys," suggested mrs. emerson. mr. emerson took a hasty glance at the setting sun. "you never spoke a truer word, my dear," applauded her husband, "though this is vacation and the boys won't be there! still, i'm as hungry as a bear. let's have our evening meal, whatever it proves to be, in bennington." they were all hungry enough to think the plan one of the best that their leader had offered for some time, so it was only after what turned out to be supper that they went back to williamstown. in the moonlight the towers of the college buildings glimmered mysteriously through the trees, and the girls went to bed happy in the promise of what the morning was going to bring them. ethel brown was sorry that there were no students to be seen on the grounds when they wandered about the next morning, for she would have liked to see what sort of boys they were, and, if she liked their looks, have suggested to tom or james that they come here to college amid such lovely surroundings. she liked it better than amherst but ethel blue preferred that compact little village, and dorothy clung to her deep-seated affection for cambridge. "after all, our club boys have their plans all made so we don't need to get excited over these colleges," decided ethel brown; "and i'm glad they're all going to different ones because when they graduate we'll have invitations to three separate class-days and other festivities." "what a perfectly beautiful tower," exclaimed dorothy. "it's the chapel. that light-colored stone is superb, isn't it!" "some of these other buildings look as old as some of the oldy-old harvard ones." "they can't be anywhere near as old. this college wasn't founded until ." "that's old enough to give it a settled-down air in spite of these handsome new affairs. there must be lovely walks about here." "hills almost as big as mountains to climb. but the boys don't have any girls to call on the way the amherst boys do, with the smith girls and the mt. holyoke girls just a little ride away." "perhaps they'd rather have mountains," remarked ethel brown wisely. as the college was not in session mr. emerson was not able to see any of the records that he had hoped to look over to search for his brother's name, and as almost all of the professors were out of town, he could not question any of the older men of the place as to their recollection of him. he was quite willing, therefore, to take a comparatively early train for albany. they arrived early enough to go over the capitol, seated at the head of a broad but precipitous street. it was very unlike the stern simplicity of the massachusetts state house, but they amused themselves by saying that at least the two buildings had one part of their decoration in common. in albany the tops of the columns were carved with fruits and flowers, all to be found in the united states. in boston a local product, the codfish, held a position of honor over the desk of the speaker of the house of representatives. "all made in the u. s. a.," laughed dorothy, quoting a slogan of the wartime, intended to help home industries. they wanted to see the cathedral and st. agnes' school as well as the state board of education building, and after they had hunted them out with the help of a map of the city, and had taken a trolley ride into the suburbs, and had eaten a hearty dinner they were glad to go to bed early so as to be up in time to catch the day boat for new york. "what splendid weather we've had," exclaimed mrs. emerson as they took their places on the broad deck of the handsome craft. it was not the same one that had taken them to west point at the end of may. this one was named after hendrik hudson, the explorer of the river. they found it to be quite as comfortable as the other, and the day went fast as they swept down the stream with the current to aid them. occasionally broad reaches of the river grew narrower and wider again as the soil had proven soft or more resistant and the water had spread or had cut out a deep channel. off to the west the catskills loomed against the sky, more varied than the green mountains and more rugged. "more beautiful, too, i think," decided ethel blue. "i like their roughness." a storm came up as they passed the mountains and the thunder rumbled unendingly among the hills. "listen to the dutchmen that rip van winkle saw playing bowls when he visited them during his twenty years' nap," laughed ethel brown who was a reader of washington irving's "sketch book." "i don't wonder he felt dozy in summer with such a lovely scene to quiet him," mrs. emerson said in his defence. "i feel a trifle sleepy myself," and she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes with an appearance of extreme comfort. they passed kingston which was burned by the british just two months after the battle of bennington; and by a large town which proved to be poughkeepsie. "here's where we should land if we were going to finish our investigation of colleges by seeing vassar," said mr. emerson. "i'm glad we aren't going to get off!" exclaimed ethel brown. "i'm so undecided now i don't see how i'll ever make up my mind where to go!" "something will happen to help you decide," consoled dorothy. "isn't this where the big college boat races are rowed?" she asked mr. emerson. "right here on this broad stretch of water. a train of observation cars--flat cars--follows the boats along the bank. i must bring the club up here to some of them some time." "o-oh!" all the girls cried with one voice, and they stared at the river and the shore as if they might even then see the shells dashing down the stream and the shouting crowds in the steamers and on the banks. below newburgh the river narrowed beneath upstanding cliffs and a point jutted out into the water. "do you recognize that piece of land?" mr. emerson asked. no one did. "you don't recall west point?" "we're in the position now of the steamers and tugs we watched while we were having our dinner at the hotel. do you see the veranda of the hotel? up on the headland?" they did, and they felt that they were in truth nearing home. the remainder of the way was over familiar waters, and they called to mind the historic tales that roger and mr. emerson had told them on the memorial day trip. "we've seen so much history in the last week, though," declared ethel blue, "that i don't believe i can ever realize that i'm living in the twentieth century!" chapter xiii hunting arrow heads the week after the home-coming from the massachusetts trolley trip was a time of busyness for the ethels and dorothy. helen and roger and the grown-ups who had stayed at home had to be made familiar with every step of the way, and the whole long history lesson that they had had was reviewed especially for helen's benefit. she looked up battle after battle in large histories in the library and was so full of questions as to how this place and that looked that the girls regretted that they had not taken a kodak so that they might have gratified her curiosity by showing her pictures of all the historical spots in their modern garb. affairs at rose house had to be brought up to date. mr. emerson undertook the management of mrs. tsanoff's affairs and went into town the very day after his return to call on mr. watkins and find out where tsanoff was working. he found that he had been discharged from his position but a few days before. he had become so downcast as a consequence that he had not sent word to his wife of this fresh disappointment, and he was unspeakably grateful to mr. emerson for the chance that he opened to him. a kodak of his dark, sensible face was easily obtained to send to massachusetts and mr. emerson went home feeling that the first step had been well taken. making mrs. tsanoff understand the new proposition was not easy, but mrs. schuler and moya had learned something of her language as she had learned more english during the summer and, when mr. emerson showed her a photograph of the deerfield farm and told her of its advantages for her husband and the children she was eager to go to it at once. "the fields, the cows," she kept saying over and over again, and the girls realized how strong within her was her love for the country for which she had made the poor exchange of the city, and they sympathized keenly. the result of the correspondence between mr. emerson and the deerfield people was that the bulgarians were put on the train for springfield within ten days, each one of them, even the twin babies, wearing a small american flag so that they might be recognized by their new employer who was to meet them at springfield and convoy them home. mrs. tsanoff left rose house in tears, kissing the hands of all the girls and murmuring her gratitude to all of them over and over again as she wept and smiled by turns. the other women had started the embroidery class, teaching each other and mrs. morton, mrs. smith and the miss clarks. the plan was working out very well, mrs. schuler thought, especially with mrs. paterno, who evidently loved the work and in it was already losing something of her fear and anxiety. roger had made a sideboard for the rose house dining room assisted by the members of the club who were "not off gallivanting," as he expressed it. "it's mighty good looking," commented dorothy as she examined it. "was it hard to make? it looks so." "no worse than that seat we made for mrs. schuler's room. we made two cupboard arrangements for the ends just like those, only we put a door over each one of them. instead of a big box between them to be used as a seat we put a shelf resting on the cleats that went across the backs of the bookshelves. then we connected the two cupboards with a long plank." "you put a back behind the shelf." "we put on thin boards for a back, but we haven't decided yet whether we made a mistake in putting doors in front or not. i like them with doors the way we have it, but margaret thinks it would have been rather good without any doors. what do you think?" "i think mrs. schuler will like it better with doors. the linen or whatever she keeps in there will be cleaner if it isn't exposed to the air on open shelves and the doors will serve as a protection against dust." they all agreed that it was one of the best pieces of furniture that they had yet made for the house, and the travellers were sorry that they had not had a hand in its construction on account of the experience the progress of the work would have afforded them. a few days later the ethels planned an excursion for the benefit of the younger children which was to be somewhat in the nature of a picnic, but it was arranged to have everyone attend who could do so. there was intense excitement among the smaller children when the announcement was made that the picnic would be held early the following week, providing the weather proved clear enough not to interfere with their plans. dicky's share in the excitement of the journey was the stirring up of a deep interest in indians. when the ethels told him that they were going over to the field that grandfather emerson was having cleared he insisted on going with them to hunt for arrow heads. they waited until a day after a rain had left the small stones washed free of earth, and they made an afternoon of it, all the club and all the rose house women and children going too. the boys carried hampers with the wherewithal for afternoon tea, and the expedition assumed serious proportions in the minds of those arranging it when dicky asked if they would need one of grandfather's wagons to bring home the arrow heads in. as a matter of fact they did not find many arrow heads. whether the earth had not yet been turned over to a sufficient depth or whether the indians who had lived about rosemont had been of a peaceful temper or whether the field happened not to be near any of their villages, no one knew, though every one made one guess or another. they planned the search methodically. "i saw a lot of boy scouts one day clear up the field in central park in which they had been drilling," said tom watkins. "they stretched in a long line across the whole field and then they walked slowly along looking for anything that might have been dropped in the course of their evolutions." "did they find much?" "you'd be surprised to know how much!" "let's do the same thing here. if we stretch across the field then every one is responsible for just a small section under his eyes--" "--and feet." "--and feet. i wish we had an arrow head to show the women so they'd know exactly what to look for." "father had one in the cabinet," said roger, "and i put it in my pocket for just this purpose. i don't know where he got it, and it may not be of exactly the kind of stone these new jersey indians used, but it will show the shape all right." "they always used flint, didn't they?" asked margaret. "flint or obsidian or the hardest stone they could find, whatever it was." "bone?" "sometimes. i saw quite large bone heads at the natural history museum." "i've seen life-size boneheads frequently," announced james solemnly, not smiling until roger and tom pelted him with bits of sod. the arrow head was passed from hand to hand and every one studied it carefully. then they stretched across the field and began their search. the result was not very satisfactory from dicky's point of view, for he concluded that he need not have worried as to how the load was to be carried home. there were only seven found. of these, however, dicky found two, one by his unaided efforts and the other through ethel blue's taking pains not to see one that lay between him and her. nobody else found more than one and several of them found none at all, so dicky, after all, was hilarious. in a corner of the field they built a fire and heated water for the tea in a kettle thrust among the coals. ears of corn still in the husk were roasted between heated stones, bits of bacon sizzled appetizingly from forked sticks and dripped on to the flames with a hissing sound, and biscuits, fresh from moya's oven, were reheated near the blaze. it was while they were sitting around the fire that dicky's mind turned to the remainder of the indian's equipment. "what did he do with thith arrowhead?" he inquired. "he tied it on to the end of an arrow, and shot bears with it." "what'th an arrow?" "a long, slender stick." "do you throw it?" "you shoot it from a bow." "what'th a bow?" "a curved piece of wood with a string connecting the ends." "how doeth it work?" roger heaved a sigh and then gave it up.. "me for the bushes," he cried. "language fails me; i'll have to make a bow and arrow." "it's the easiest way," nodded tom. "bring me a switch and i'll make the arrow while you make the bow." "who's got a piece of string?" inquired roger a few minutes later as he held up his handiwork for the admiration of his friends, james produced the necessary string and roger strung the bow. "now, then, let's see what it will do," he said. adjusting the arrow he drew the cord and sent the simple shaft whizzing through the air against a tree where it stuck in the bark for an instant before it fell to the ground. "do you think it's safe for dicky to have an arrow as sharp as that?" inquired helen. "that's not sharp enough to do any damage. it didn't hold in the tree." dicky was delighted with his new toy and went off to test its power, followed by elisabeth of belgium, sheila, luigi and pietro paterno, olga peterson and vasili and vladimir vereshchagin. the romper-clad band stirred the amused smiles of the elders watching them. "they certainly are the cunningest little dinks that ever happened!" cried ethel brown, establishing herself comfortably to help make small bows and arrows for the rest of the flock. the girls as well as the boys of the united service club knew how to use a jacknife and the diminutive weapons of the chase were soon ready. the ethels were hunting through the luncheon basket for string when a howl from the other side of the field made them drop what was in their hands and rush toward the trees where the children were playing. the mothers followed them, mrs. paterno and mrs. vereshchagin in the lead. "i certainly hope it's not the little paterno," said ethel blue breathlessly to ethel brown as they ran. "mrs. paterno never will forgive dicky if he's got him into trouble again." they concluded when they came in sight of the group of children that the italian woman had run from nervousness and the russian because she recognized the voice of her offspring, for it was vladimir whose yells were resounding through the air. dicky was bending over him and the other children were standing around so that the runners as they approached could not see what was the matter. mrs. vereshchagin increased her speed, uttering sounds that fell strangely on her listeners' ears. the group of children fell away as their elders came near, and the ethels, who were in front, saw that vladimir was pinned to a tree by dicky's arrow which had pierced the fullness of his rompers. he could not be hurt in the least, but the strangeness of his position had startled and angered him and was causing the shrieks that had frightened them all. fortunately for dicky, mrs. vereshchagin, unlike mrs. paterno, had a sense of humor, and as soon as she saw that her child was neither injured nor in danger she burst into laughter as loud as his cries of rage and terror. roger quickly unfastened him from the tree to which he was bound and handed him over to his mother, none the worse for his experience except that his rompers were torn. turning to dicky, roger decreed that the head must be taken from his arrow. "it's not your fault, old man," he said; "but helen was right--this thing is too sharp." "i'll tell you what to do, roger, get some of those rubber tips that slip on the ends of lead pencils. the english stationer must have some. if you put them on all these arrows they can't do any harm." "meanwhile the kiddies had better not have them," mrs. schuler decided, so they were put aside with the basket, to be finished later when the needed tips should be procured in rosemont. "you got off pretty well, that time, sir," laughed roger. "what were you trying to do?" "i wath an indian thooting bearth. vladimir wath a bear." "a russian bear. you got him all right; but let me tell you, young man; you must be mighty careful what you aim at, for international complications may follow." "what'th that?" "that means it's dangerous to aim at _anybody_. i'll make you a target and when you get so you can hit the bull's eye three times out of five at a distance of fifteen feet i'll give you a better bow. is it a bargain?" dicky shook hands on it solemnly. "remember now, no shooting at any living thing." "not a cat?" "not a cat or a bird, a dog or any other animal on two legs or four." "all right," nodded dicky, and roger knew that he would keep his word, for that is a part of the training of a soldier's son. the experiences of the afternoon were not yet ended. the arrow episode over the children looked about for other amusement. they drifted away from the group still gathered about the embers of the dying fire and made their way among the bushes standing uncut on the edge of the new clearing. once in a while their laughter was borne on the breeze. it was a long time before any one thought of seeing what they were doing. then ethel brown rose and sauntered in the direction whence the sounds came. "with dicky in the lead," she thought, "it's just as well to keep an eye on them." as she approached the woods she saw the little army of rompered youngsters, each armed with a switch, and each doing his best to strike something high over his head. they all stood with their eager faces looking upward and their arms working busily with what muscle the summer had given them. leaves were falling from the bushes and the lower branches of the saplings that were struck by their rods, and it was evident that they were causing great destruction to the foliage, whatever the real object of their attack. ethel's wonderment increased. "children do get the greatest amount of fun out of the smallest things," she thought. "what can they be doing?" when quite near the thicket, however, her slow steps quickened into a run. her sharp eyes discovered hanging from one of the trees over the heads of the children one of the large wasps' nests which seem to be made of gray paper. it had caught dicky's attention and he had coveted it for purpose of investigation. summoning his cohorts he had pointed it out to them and had urged them to bring it down. each one had broken a stick; some had stripped off the leaves entirely; others had left a tuft at the end. in both cases the weapons looked dangerously destructive to ethel, as she ran toward them and saw one pole after another swish past the home of the paper wasps and expected the colony to rush forth to defend their abode. with a cry of warning she bore down on them and with a sweep of her arms turned them all back into the open field. dicky was indignant. "what you doing that for?" he demanded angrily. "one more thwat and i'd a had it." "you don't know what it is," cried ethel breathlessly. "you'd all be stung if there were any wasps at home. that's their house and they get awfully mad." the children looked back fearfully at the object of their attack. "you've had a narrow escape," insisted ethel, and then to divert their minds from what had happened she made them stretch themselves in a line and hunt for arrow heads all the way back to their mothers. "thith ith a funny thtone," exclaimed dicky, picking up a rather large oblong stone that had a groove all around its middle. "it looks like lake chautauqua. doesn't it? you know they say that 'chautauqua' means 'the bag tied in the middle'." "did the indianth uthe it?" dicky asked as he laid his trophy in roger's hand. "i rather think they did," returned roger excitedly. "it looks to me as if this was a hammer or a hatchet. see--" and he held it out for the girls and james and tom to see, "they must have lashed this head on to a stout stick by a cord tied where this crease is." "it would make a first-rate hammer," commended james. "the indians didn't manufacture as many of these as they did arrow heads, because, of course, they didn't need as many. i rather guess you've made the big find of the afternoon," and dicky swelled with pride as his brother patted him on the shoulder. when it became time to go home the ethels offered to take the short cut to rosemont and get the rubber tips for the children's arrows. "if we go across the field and the west woods we come out not far from the stationer's, and we can leave the tips up at rose house on the way back so they'll be ready for you to put on to-morrow and the youngsters can have the bows and arrows to play with right off." "let me go," begged dicky. "all right," agreed roger. "be careful when you go over the railroad track, girls. mother isn't very keen on having dicky learn that road, you know." they promised to be careful and set forth in the opposite direction from the rest of the party whom they left putting together the remnants of the feast and packing away the plates. it was an interesting walk. they played indian all the way. ethel blue's imagination had been greatly stimulated by the tale of the attack on deerfield and she pretended to see an indian behind every tree. ethel brown pretended to shoot them all with unerring arrow, and dicky charged the bushes in handsome style and routed the enemy with awful slaughter. "this is just the kind of game we ought not to play if we want to make dicky think of peace and not of war," declared ethel blue at last when she had become breathless from the excitement of their countless adventures. "that's so. it's funny how you forget. it's just as delia says--we don't realize how fighting and soldiers and thinking about military things is put into our minds even in games when we're little." "i'm really sorry we've done this," confessed. ethel brown as they fell behind their charge. "dicky's 'pretending' works over time anyway, and he may dream about indians, or get scared to go to bed, and it will be our fault." "it's rather late to think about it--but let's try not to do it again. isn't there something we can call his attention to now to take his mind off indians?" dicky was marching ahead of them drawing an imaginary bow and bringing down a large bag of imaginary birds, while from the difficulty with which he occasionally dragged an imaginary something behind him it seemed that he had at least slain an imaginary deer. naturally, with his hunting blood up, the ethels found him not responsive to appeals to "see what a pretty flower this is" or to examine the hole of a chipmunk. he was after more thrilling adventures. still, by the time they reached the railroad track, everyday matters were beginning to command his attention. this short cut across the track was one that he had seldom been allowed to take, and the mere fact of doing it was exciting. he stopped in the middle and looked up and down the line while the girls tugged at him. it was only when he saw a bit or two of shining metal which, according to his arrow head game of the afternoon, he picked up and tucked away in the pocket of his rompers, that his attention was once more turned to the gathering of the wonders that seemed to be under his feet all the time if only he looked for them hard enough. the errand to the stationery shop was successful. the stationer said that most pencils now were made with erasers built into them, but that he thought he had a box of old tips left over. he hunted for them very obligingly, and set so small a price on them that the ethels took the whole box so that they might have a liberal supply in case any were lost off the arrow heads. dicky put one in his pocket so that he could place it on his arrow as soon as he got it into his hands once more, and he begged the ethels to go home by way of rose house so that he could fix it up that very night. "is it early enough?" asked ethel blue. ethel brown thought it was. "but we'll have to hurry," she warned; "there's an awfully black cloud over there. it looks like a thunder storm." they scampered as fast as their legs would carry them and reached the farm in the increasing darkness, but before any rain had fallen. they found all the bows and arrows standing in a trash basket which roger had made for the dining room. "mr. roger stood them up in that so the children wouldn't be apt to touch 'em," explained moya. dicky sat down on the hearth and set to work on the arrow which he recognized as his because of its greater length. "you'll have to hurry or we'll get caught," warned his sister. "we ought to start right off," urged ethel blue. "we'll have to run for it even if we go now." mrs. schuler brought in the cape of her storm coat. "take this for dicky," she said. "if it does break before you get home it will rain hard and his rompers won't be any protection at all." "put it on now, dicky," commanded ethel brown. "stand up." dicky rose reluctantly. "why do you fill up your pocket with such stuff," inquired ethel impatiently. "there, throw it into the fireplace--gravel, toadstools, old brass," she catalogued contemptuously, and dicky, swept on by her eagerness, obediently cast his treasures among the soft pine boughs that filled the wide, old fireplace. "i'll clear them away," promised mrs. schuler. "hurry," and she fairly turned them out of the house. "you made me throw away my shiny things," complained dicky as they ran down the lane as fast as they could go. "never mind; you'd have jounced them out of your pocket anyway, running like this," and dicky, taking giant strides as his sister and his cousin held a hand on each side, was inclined to think that he would be lucky if he were not jounced put of his clothes before he got home. chapter xiv the storm after all, they need not have jerked poor dicky over the ground at such a rapid pace for the storm, though it grumbled and roared at a distance, did not break until a late hour in the night. then it came with a vengeance and made up for its indecision by behaving with real ferocity. to the women at rose house, accustomed to the city, where nature's sights and sounds are deadened by the number of the buildings and the narrowness of the streets, the uproar was terrifying. flash after flash lit up their rooms so that the roosters and puppies and pigs and cows on the curtains stood out clearly in the white light. crash after crash sent them cowering under the covers of their beds. the children woke and added their cries to the tumult. as the electric storm swept away into the distance the wind rose and howled about the house. shutters slammed; chairs were over-turned on the porch; a brick fell with a thud from the top of the chimney to the roof; another fell down the chimney into the fireplace where its arrival was followed by a roar that seemed to shake the old building on its foundation. "grrreat scott!" ejaculated mr. schuler, who had learned some english expressions from his pupils. he was returning through the hall from a hobbling excursion to make sure that all the windows down stairs were closed. the candle dropped from his hand and he was left in the dark. his crutch slid from under his arm, and he was forced to cling to a table for support and call for his wife to come and find it for him. mrs. schuler reached him from the kitchen where she had been attending to the fastenings of the back door. fortunately her light had survived the gusty attack and she was able to help her husband to his prop. "what is it?" she cried breathlessly, "is the house falling? did you ever hear such a noise!" mr. schuler never had. the outcry upstairs was increased by the shrieks of sheila who had slept until the last shock and who woke at last to add her penetrating voice to the pandemonium. "do you smell something queer?" asked mrs. schuler. "do you think that was a lightning-bolt and it set the house on fire?" her husband shook his head doubtfully. "the lightning has gone by," he said, but they went together on a tour of investigation. nothing was burning in the kitchen, but the rays of the uplifted candle showed a zigzag crack on the wall behind the stove. "that wall is the chimney," said mrs. schuler. "something has happened to the chimney." "let's go into the dining-room and see if anything shows there." into the dining-room they went. an acrid smell filled the room, and as they entered a smouldering flame in the fireplace burst into a blaze, from the draught of the door. its fuel consisted only of some trash that had been tossed into the fireplace and hidden behind the fresh pine boughs that filled the opening through the summer. the drinking water in the pitcher on the table was enough to put an end to it. "it's hardly large enough to bother to put out," exclaimed mr. schuler, "if it weren't that the chimney seems to be so shaken that the flames might work through somewhere and set fire to the woodwork." "there's no doubt about something serious having happened to the chimney," and mrs. schuler stooped and pushed back three or four bricks that had tumbled forward on to the hearth. "the back is cracked," she announced from her knees. "with that big crack on the kitchen side i rather think moya had better use the oil stove until mr. emerson can send a bricklayer to examine the chimney." "everything but this seems all right here; you'd better go up and try to calm the women," advised mr. schuler. the wind storm was dying down and the inmates of rose house were becoming quieter as the din outside moderated. the matron went from room to room bringing comfort and courage as her candle shone upon one frightened face after another. "it's all over; there's nothing to be afraid of," she said over and over again. only to moya did she tell what had happened to the chimney, so that she might prepare breakfast on the oil stove. "it almost seems i heard a giant fall down the chimney," the irish girl whispered hoarsely. "i dare say you did hear the bricks falling. there's a gallon or two of soot in the dining-room fireplace for you to clean up in the morning." "'tis easy, that, compared wid cleaning up the whole house that seemed like to tumble!" said moya with a sigh of relief. the children were already asleep and the remainder of the night was unbroken by any sound save the dripping of the raindrops from the branches and the swish of wet leaves against each other when a light breeze revived their former activities. little vladimir was up early with a memory of something queer having happened in the night. he was eager to go downstairs and find out what it was all about and his mother dressed him and let him out of her room and then turned over to take another nap. when moya went down to set the oil stove in position for use he was amusing himself contentedly with the rubbish in the fireplace, his face and hands already in need of renewed attention from his mother. "'tis the sooty-faced young one ye are," she called to him good-naturedly. "run up to the brook and wash yerself an' save yer mother the throuble." she opened the back door and he ran out into the yard, but instead of going up the lane to the brook he scampered round the house and down the lane. moya called after him but he paid no attention. "sure, i've too much to do to be day-nursing that young russian," she murmured. there were wonderings and ejaculations in many tongues when all the women and children came down and examined the cracks in the kitchen side of the chimney and in the back of the dining-room fireplace and saw the heap of rubbish and bricks piled up in the fireplace. it gave them something to talk about all the morning. this was lucky, for the grass was too wet for the children to play on it, and when mothers and children were crowded on the veranda idle words sometimes changed to cross ones. "tis strange; they's good women, iv'ry wan, take 'em alone," moya had said one day to mrs. schuler and ethel blue when they heard from the kitchen the sounds of dispute upon the porch; "yit listen to 'em whin they gits together." "that's because each one of them gets out of the talk just what she puts into it," explained the matron. "manin' that if she comes to it cross it's cross answers she gits. it's right ye are, ma'am. 'tis so about likin' or hatin' yer work. days when yer bring happiness to yer work it goes like a bird, an' days when ye have the black dog on yer back the work turns round an' fights wid yer." ethel blue listened intently. things like that had happened to her but she had not supposed that grown people had such experiences. she remembered a day during the previous week when she had waked up cross. a dozen matters went wrong before she left the house to go to school. on the way the mud pulled off one of her overshoes, and her boot was soiled before she was shod again. the delay made her five minutes late and caused a black mark to deface her perfect attendance record. every recitation went wrong in one way or another, and every one she spoke to was as cross as two sticks. as she thought it over she realized that if what mrs. schuler and moya said was true the whole trouble came from herself. when she woke up not in the best of humor she ought to have smoothed herself out before she went down to breakfast, and then she would have picked her way calmly over the crossing and not tried to take a short cut through the mud; she would not have been delayed and earned a tardy mark; she would have had an unclouded mind that could give its best attention to the recitations so that she would have done herself justice; people would have been glad to talk to her because she looked cheerful and was in a sunny mood and no one would have been cross. "i guess it was all my fault," she thought. "i guess it will pay to straighten myself out before i get out of bed every morning." all was well in and out of rose house on the morning after the storm. every one told her experiences as if she were the only person affected and they all talked at once and enjoyed themselves immensely. vladimir came running up on to the porch in the middle of the morning and threw himself across his mother's lap. "where have you been now?" she asked him. he had come to breakfast only after being called a dozen times and he had disappeared immediately after breakfast. "what have you been doing?" the little fellow laughed and poured into her lap a handful of nickels and ten-cent pieces. "where in the world did you get those?" demanded mrs. vereshchagin. "who gave them to you?" "a man in the road." "a man in the road? all that money? what for?" "i gave him the shiny thing and he gave me those moneys." "what shiny thing?" "the shiny thing i found on the floor." "where on the floor?" "in the dining-room, and the youngster ran into the house to point out exactly the place where he had found the 'shiny thing.'" "a 'shiny thing'," repeated moya, who was putting the room in order and heard the russian woman's inquiries. "'tis two of 'em i found mesilf on the floor when i cleared up the mess from the fireplace this morning. 'twas two bits of brass. see, i saved 'em," and she shook from a scooped-out gourd which served as an ornament on the mantel two bits of metal. "was it like these, vladdy?" she asked, but vladimir was too tired of being questioned and ran away without answering. his mother shook her head as she gazed at the bits lying on her palm. "not worth all these moneys," she murmured as she counted forty cents in the small coins in her other hand. it was a mystery. moya put the bits of brass back into the gourd and went on with her dusting. mrs. schuler telephoned to mr. emerson early in the morning, telling him of the damage to the house and asking him to come and see what had happened go that the bricklayers might be set to work as soon as possible. "i'm afraid to let moya light the kitchen stove until i'm sure the chimney is sound," she explained. mr. emerson telephoned the news to his grandchildren and he and all the mortons with dorothy and her mother and miss merriam and elisabeth arrived at the farm at almost the same time. "i'm glad the house is in as good condition as it seems to be," exclaimed mrs. morton. "i couldn't bear to have the old homestead fall to ruin. i was startled at father's message." "not so startled as all the people here were in the night," laughed her father who had been talking with mrs. schuler. "it seems that the worst noise came after the electric storm was over, but while the wind was at its highest." "the chimney wasn't struck by lightning, then." "it was not lightning," asserted mr. schuler. "the wind knocked bricks from the top of the chimney. i saw one or two on the roof this morning. as you see, several fell down the chimney into the fireplace." "i can't see how bricks from the top of the chimney could have made the crack in the kitchen side of the chimney and this crack in the back of the fireplace." "nor i," agreed mr. schuler. "the roar was tremendous. i could not believe that i was seeing rightly when i beheld only these few fallen bricks." "it sounded as if the whole chimney had fallen," mrs. schuler confirmed her husband's assertion. "mrs. peterson says it sounded to her like an explosion, sir," said moya, who had been talking with the women on the porch. "her room is right over this. the bricks fell through the chimney, banging it all the way, says she, and thin there was a roar like powder had gone off, as far as i can understand what she says." "if mrs. paterno heard that she must have thought the black hand was getting in its fine work, sure enough," smiled mr. emerson. "praise be, her room is on the other side of the house. we were all wailing like banshees up there, but she no more than the rest. 'tis better she is," and moya nodded reassuringly to the grown-ups, who were, she knew, deeply interested in the italian woman's recovery of her nervous strength. "this explosion business i don't understand," mr. emerson said slowly to himself. "what did you find in the fireplace this morning, moya? i wish you had left all the stuff here for me to see." "i'm sorry, sir. i was only thinkin' about havin' it clean before breakfast. there was the bricks, sir, two of 'em; and a pile of soot and some bits of trash wid no meanin'--" "did you find my two thinieth i picked up on the track yesterday?" asked dicky. "ethels made me throw away all the thingth in my pocket and my thinieth went too." "what does he mean by his 'shinies'?" asked mr. emerson. "he picked up a lot of stuff yesterday when we were hunting arrow heads and walking to rosemont by the short cut over the track. when i was putting mrs. schuler's storm cape on him i emptied out his pocketful of trash into the fireplace." "what did the shinies look like, son?" inquired dicky's grandfather. dicky was entering into an elaborate and unintelligible explanation when moya took the bits of brass from the gourd. "would these be the shinies?" she asked. mr. emerson took them from her and examined them carefully. "i rather think the explanation of the explosion is here," he decided. "you say you picked these up on the track, dicky?" "yeth, i did, and ethel threw them away," repeated the youngster who was beginning to think that he had a real grievance, since his "shinies" seemed to have some importance. "these are two of the small dynamite cartridges that brakemen lay on the track to notify the engineer of a following train to stop for some reason. they use them in stormy weather or when there is reason to think that the usual flag or red light between the rails won't be seen." "dynamite!" exclaimed ethel brown, looking at her hand as she remembered that she had not been especially gentle when she tossed the contents of her brother's pocket into the fireplace. "there is enough dynamite in a cartridge to make a sharp detonation but not enough to do any damage, unless, as happened here, there were two of them in a small space that was enclosed on three sides--" "the trash was blown out on the floor of the room," interrupted mr. schuler. "--by walls that were none too strong. with a wind such as last night's knocking down the chimney at the top and bricks setting dynamite cartridges into action below i only wonder that the old thing is standing at all this morning." they gazed at it as if they expected the whole affair to fall before their eyes. "i'll call up the brickmason and find out when he can come to examine it; he may have to rebuild the entire chimney." mr. emerson was moving toward the hall where the telephone was when his eye fell on elisabeth sitting contentedly on the floor close to the wall turning over and over something that gleamed. "what have you got there, small blessing?" he asked, stooping to make sure that she was not intending to try the taste of whatever it might be. "hullo!" he cried, straightening himself. "hullo!" and he held up his discovery before the astonished eyes of the group. "it looks like a gold coin, grandfather!" exclaimed ethel brown. "that's just what it is. a guinea. its date is . where did you find it, ayleesabet?" he asked the child, who was reaching up her tiny hands for the return of her new plaything. "here, here," she answered, pointing to the floor where the casing of the chimney yawned from the planks for half an inch. "here," and she pushed her fingers into the crack. "i saw her pull something that was sticking out of there a little bit," said dorothy, "but i was interested in what mr. emerson was saying and i didn't pay much attention to what she was doing." miss merriam took elisabeth on her lap and peered between her lips to make sure that no dirt from the floor was visible. then she took a small emergency kit from her pocket, extracted a bit of sterile gauze and wiped out the little pink mouth. "i live in hopes that the day will come when she'll outgrow her desire to test everything with her mouth," she remarked amusedly. "is it guineas ye're speaking about?" asked moya. "perhaps 'twas a guinea young vladdy the russian found this morning. he said he found a 'shiny thing.' i thought 'twas one of thim cartridges, like i found myself." "another shiny thing? what did he do with it? let's see it?" demanded mr. emerson. "he said he gave it to a man in the road and the man gave him a handful of ten-cent pieces and nickels. there was forty cents of it. i heard mrs. vereshchagin counting 'em." "forty cents! it must have been a valuable shiny thing that a man in the road would give a child forty cents for. he knew its value. i should say vladimir and elisabeth had tapped the same till. helen, go and see if you can find out anything more from the child or his mother. and roger, get a chisel and hammer and hatchet and perhaps you and mr. schuler and i can take down these boards and see what there is to see behind them." "wouldn't it be thrilling if there should be a hidden treasure!" exclaimed ethel blue. "aren't you shivering all over with excitement, miss gertrude?" meanwhile roger and his grandfather were prying off the boards that covered in the chimney on the right side and supported the mantel-shelf. as it fell back into their hands two more gold coins tumbled to the floor. "just take off this narrow plank, roger and let me squint in there. stand back, please, all of you, and let us have as much light as we can." "i have a flashlight," said mr. schuler. "just the ticket. now, then--," and mr. emerson kneeled down, peering into the space that was disclosed when the boards fell away. "i see something; i certainly see something," he cried as the electricity searched into the darkness. he thrust in his arm but the something was too far off. "take my crutch," suggested mr. schuler. mr. emerson took it and tugged away with the top. "it's coming, it's coming," his muffled cry rose from the depths. another tug and a blackened leather pouch, slashed with a jagged tear from which gold pieces were pouring, tumbled into the room. "pick it all up and put it on the table, roger, while mr. schuler and i decide how it happened," ordered mr. emerson. the investigation seemed to prove that there probably had been a crack in the bricks at the back of the mantel at the time when algernon merriam, miss gertrude's ancestor, had thrust the bag into the mantel cupboard. it had fallen off the back of the shelf and into the little crevasse where it lay beyond the reach of arm or bent wire or candle light for over a hundred and thirty years. "evidently last night's big shaking widened the crack and let the bag fall down. the ragged edge of a broken brick tore the leather and the two coins that vladimir and elisabeth found slipped out and fell just inside the plank covering of the chimney and below it out on to the floor." "so did the two that fell out when we were working," added roger. "let's open it and count the money. this may be some other bag," suggested helen, who had brought back no farther information from the russian. "if it's algernon's it ought to have--how many guineas was it?" "five hundred and seventy-three, and a ring and a miniature," continued ethel brown who had heard his story. "in a box," concluded ethel blue. "i can't wait for roger to undo it!" they gathered around the table on which roger had placed the stained bag, the gold coins gleaming through a gash in its side. moya cleaned the outside as well as she could with a damp cloth. "see, here are some crumbs of sealing-wax still clinging to the cord," and grandfather emerson cut the string that still tied the mouth. before their amazed eyes there rolled first a small box and then guineas as bright as when they were tied up in their prison. "we shan't have to count the guineas; if the ring and the miniature are in the box that will prove that it's algernon's bag," said helen. "here, young woman; hands off," cried her grandfather as helen was preparing to open the box. "algernon and patience were no direct ancestors of yours. miss merriam is the suitable person to perform this ceremony." helen, smiling, pushed the basket toward miss gertrude who slipped off the string with trembling fingers. "i'm almost afraid to take off the cover," she whispered. "o, do hurry up, miss gertrude," implored ethel brown. "i think i shall burst if i don't know all about it soon!" with misty eyes gertrude slowly lifted the cover from the box. wrapped in a twist of cotton was a ring set with several large diamonds. "is it marked 'gertrude'?" asked dorothy breathlessly. miss merriam nodded. below the ring lay a miniature, the portrait of a fair woman with deep blue eyes. it was set round with brilliants and on the gold back was engraved, "gertrude merriam." miss merriam stared at it and then handed it to mr. emerson. "what a marvellous likeness!" he exclaimed. "you must be able to see it yourself." gertrude nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. "there's no question that she's your ancestor. now, i'd like to see if the correct number of coins is here if you'll let roger and me count your guineas for you." "count my guineas?" cried miss merriam. "certainly they're your guineas. you're a direct descendant of algernon and patience. the bag and its contents belong to you." gertrude stared at mr. emerson as if she could not understand him. "mine?" she repeated, "mine?" but when mr. emerson insisted and the other elders congratulated her and the girls kissed her and roger shook hands formally, she began, to realize that this little fortune really was hers by right and not through the kindness of her friends. the count of the coins proved exact. there were of them. "here are the two that fell on the floor when we were hammering," said roger, laying them on the table. "they make ." "and here is the one that ayleesabet found," added mr. emerson, drawing it from his pocket. "that is the five hundred and seventy-second. young vladimir's trophy has gone for good, i'm afraid. he must have sold it to some passer-by who knew enough to realize that it was a valuable coin and wasn't honest enough to hunt for the owner or to pay the child its full value." "every one of the is accounted for, anyway," declared roger. "you won't think it impertinent if i figure out how much you're worth, will you miss gertrude?" "i shall be glad if you will," she answered. "a guinea is shillings and a shilling is about cents in american money. that makes a guinea worth about $ . . five hundred-and-seventy-two times that makes $ . ." "almost three thousand dollars!" exclaimed gertrude, her face radiant; "why--why now--" she broke off suddenly and hid her face on mrs. smith's shoulder, sobbing. "now i can pay all my indebtedness and be free to do what i please," she said to her friend in an undertone. mrs. smith patted her gently, for she knew what it was she wanted to be free to do. "this fortune is going to mount up to more than three thousand dollars," declared mr. emerson. "there isn't a coin here that was minted later than . there can't be, because algernon came to this country in the early part of . pile them up according to the dates on them, children, and let's see what there is that will appeal to the dealer in antiquities." "at that rate every coin here, even the youngest, is worth more than $ . ," exclaimed roger. "you get the idea, my son," smiled his grandfather. "we'll sell these coins separately for miss gertrude and get a special price on each one. here's one, for instance, that ought to be worth a good bonus; it is dated . it was over a hundred years old when your respected great-great-grandfather brought it over here, and if i remember my english history correctly it was in that guineas were first minted. this is a 'first edition,' so to speak." gertrude leaned back in her chair, smiling happily. chapter xv gertrude changes her name the club had been prominent figures at mrs. schuler's wedding, but that was a very small affair at home, and miss gertrude's was to be in the church with a reception afterwards at dorothy's house. the club felt that they wanted to do every bit of the work that they could, not only because they loved miss gertrude but because she was going to marry the brother of two of the club members. she had said that she would like to have the church decorated with wild flowers so that she might take away with her the remembrance of the blossoms that she had seen and loved in the rosemont fields. the club held a special meeting to talk over their plans for the wedding. it was at rose house, for they had become accustomed to meeting there during the summer, when every moment could be utilized for work on something connected with the furnishing of the house while at the same time they could talk as they hammered and measured and screwed and sewed. they were gathered under the tree where the squirrel lived. as they established themselves, he was sitting on a branch above them, twitching his tail and making ready for a descent to search for cookies in their pockets. helen called the meeting to order and told them what miss gertrude had said about the decorations. "has any one any suggestions?" she asked. "shall we have all the different kinds of flowers we can find or select one kind?" asked ethel brown. "we can get goldenrod and asters now." "and cardinals and cat-tails." "and 'old-maids'." "and hollyhocks." "nobody has said 'queen anne's lace.' i think that's the prettiest of all," urged ethel blue. "wouldn't it be delicate and fairy-like if we trimmed the whole church with it!" "o, ethel, i see it in a flash!" cried delia. "not banked heavily anywhere, but always in feathery masses." "on the altar and winding the chancel rail." "a cluster on the end of each pew." "long garlands instead of ribbons to close the ends of the pews." "an arch about half way up the aisle." the whole scene grew on them as they talked and they waxed enthusiastic over the details. they had learned that flowers to be used for decoration should be picked the day beforehand and placed in water over night so that the moisture should have time to force itself into the stalks and to drive away the first wilting. they decided to gather all the queen anne's lace that they could find in all rosemont, accepting the help of all the children who had asked if they might help. mrs. smith was building a new house, and dorothy and the ethels had planted a flower garden on the new lot although the house was not yet done. they had arranged to have a succession of pink blossoms. for fear it would not turn out well because they had not been able to have the soil put in as good condition as they wanted on account of the disturbed state of the place with workmen constantly crossing, they had tried another pink garden at rose house, and the ethels had planted still another bed in their own yard. "among them all i should think we ought to find enough, if all the blossoms don't take it into their heads to fall off the very day before," said ethel brown gloomily. "don't talk that way!" insisted ethel blue. "we'll find lots of pink flowers and aunt louise's drawing-room will look lovely." "we can put some of the feathery white with it." "and we must find some soft green somewhere. the coloring of the room is so delicate that the pink and white effect will be charming," and helen leaned back against the tree trunk with a satisfied smile. "the next point is that aunt louise says she'd be very glad if we'd all assist at the reception just as we do at mother's teas--handing things to eat and being nice to people." they all nodded their understanding of their duties. "are all of you girls going to be dressed alike?" asked tom. "no, sir. delia is to be maid of honor. she's to wear the most delicate shade of pink you can imagine. the ethels are to have a shade that is just a wee bit darker, and margaret and i are to come last--" "being the tallest." "--wearing real rose-colored frocks. it's going to be beautiful." "i can easily believe it," declared james, making an attempt at a bow that was defeated by the fact that he was lying on his back and found the exploit too difficult to achieve. "i also seem to see you flitting around the house under those pink decorations. you'll run the bride hard." "edward won't think so," laughed tom. "now what are we going to give to gertrude--" "hear him say 'gertrude'," said ethel blue under her breath. "she asked us to. of course we call her by her name. she's going to be our sister." the ethels looked quite depressed, for calling miss gertrude by her first name was a privilege they knew they never should have. "i was inquiring what we're going to give gertrude as a club. we watkinses are going to give her something as a family, and delia and i have each picked out a special present from us ourselves--" "that's the way we're doing," came from the mortons. "--but i think it would be nice to give her something from the whole of us, because if it hadn't been for the club and the club baby she wouldn't have come here at all." "let's put our colossal intellects on it," urged roger. "if we could think of something that no one else would give her--" "and that would remind her of us and the things the club does." "the club makes furniture," laughed roger, "but i shouldn't suggest that we repeat our latest triumph and give her a sideboard made of old boxes." they all roared, but james came up with a serious expression after a roll that took him some distance away from his friends. "boxes am ree-diculous," he remarked, "but furniture isn't. isn't there some piece of furniture that they'd like better than anything else we could give them?" "i've got an idea," announced roger. "quick, quick; catch it!" and tom tossed over his cap to hold any notions that might trickle away from the main mass. "since we've been doing this furniture making for rose house i've spent a good deal of time in the carpenter shop on main street. you know it belongs to the son of those old people down by the bridge, mr. and mrs. atwood." "the ones we gave a 'show' for?" asked delia. "the same people. the son was pleased at our going there and he hasn't minded my fooling round his place and he's given me a lot of points. he makes good furniture himself." "as good as yours?" asked james dryly. "go on!" retorted roger. "he's a real joiner rather than a carpenter, but there isn't any chance for a joiner in a town like rosemont, so he does any kind of carpentering." "go ahead, roger. we don't care for the gentleman's biography." "yes, you do; it has some bearing on what i'm going to propose." "let her shoot, then." "mr. atwood has a whole heap of splendid mahogany planks in his shop. i came across them one day and asked him about them. he's been collecting them a long time and they're splendidly seasoned and he's just waiting for a chance to make them into something." "a light begins to break. we'll have him make our present. are you sure he'll make it well enough? it's got to be a crackerjack to be suitable for miss gertrude." "this is what i thought. the doctor and miss gertrude both like open bookcases. i heard them say once they liked to be able to take out a book without having to bother with a door." "me, too," agreed margaret. "and i never could see the use of a back." "that's what i say," said helen. "i'd rather dust the books more carefully and not have the extra weight added to the bookcase." "you know the furniture they call 'knockdown'?" everybody nodded. they had all become familiar with various makes of furniture since their attention had been called to the subject by their summer's interests. "i think mr. atwood can make us a bookcase that will consist of two upright end pieces with holes through them where each shelf is to go. the shelves will have two extensions on each end that will go through these square holes and they will be held in place by wedges driven through these extensions on the outside of the uprights. get me?" they all said they did. "that's all there is to the bookcase. it can be taken to pieces in ten minutes and packed flat and shipped from rosemont to oklahoma with some chance of its reaching there unbroken; and it can be set up in another ten minutes. what do you say?" there wasn't a dissenting voice, and they were so pleased with the scheme that they went to mr. atwood's that very afternoon, looked at the wood, talked over the finish, and left the order. it was so simple that the maker thought that he could have it done before the wedding and he agreed to take it apart and pack it for shipment so that there would be no danger of its not making its journey safely. the wedding day was a trifle too warm, dorothy thought as she gazed out early in the morning and considered the flowers that must be set in place several hours before the time when they were to be seen. "we must take care not to have them look like those dandelions in the book wedding that began so joyously and ended all in a wizzle," she murmured, and she was more than ever glad that they had taken the precaution to pick them the day before and have them in water. by early afternoon all was in readiness and the girls were resting. miss gertrude had not been allowed to help but had stayed quietly in her room. the wedding was at half past four, and at that hour the little church, which looked perfectly lovely in the opinion of the decorators, was pleasantly filled with murmuring groups of rosemont people, who agreed that the feathery decorations proved yet another plume in the caps of the club members, and of new york people who gazed at the modest country chapel and found it charming. there was a happy _brrrr_ of pleasant comment while the organ played softly. roger and james were two of the ushers. friends of edward's, young doctors, were the other two. as the organ broke into the lohengrin march and edward, with tom for his best man, appeared at the chancel, gertrude came down the aisle from the other end of the church. she wore a simple white trailing dress of soft silk, clasped at the breast with the ancient brilliant-framed miniature of another gertrude merriam. a pearl pendant, a gift from ayleesabet, hung from her neck. on her ungloved right hand the older gertrude merriam's ring blazed beside edward's more modest offering. the ethels held each others' hands as they stood behind the bride, wreaths of queen anne's lace over their arms, and a delicate blossom or two tucked under a pale blue ribbon in each filmy white hat. it seemed but a moment to them and it was all over and miss gertrude was no longer "miss gertrude" but "mrs. edward." the doctor seemed to have put on new dignity and the girls found themselves wondering if they should ever call him "edward" again. gertrude swept by them with her eyes full of happiness, but when she reached the back of the church she gave a lovely smile to the women and children of rose house seated in the last pews. "i want every one to see my lovely presents," miss gertrude had said, so the guests exclaimed over the pretty things grouped in the library. it was all simple and happy, and a bit of pathos at the end of the afternoon brought no depression. gertrude was just about to go upstairs to change her dress and she stood with her maids and ushers, around her, exchanging a laughing word or two with them, when a little procession made its way toward her from the dining-room. it consisted of all the women and children from rose house, dressed in the fresh clothes which the women had made for themselves and the children during the summer. they were all so smiling that they could hardly have been recognized as the forlorn creatures who had come to rosemont early in july. each woman held in her hand a centrepiece, embroidered in the characteristic work of her country. mrs. vereshchagin led the way, because she could speak english a little better than the others, but her english failed her when she came face to face with the bride. "we love you," she said simply, making a sweeping gesture that included the bridegroom and all the u. s. c. members who were standing about. "we give you these embroideries of our lands. we love all of you." and all the women and children cried in chorus, "we love all of you." [illustration: "edith was busy taking their photographs". page .] little prudy's children jimmy, lucy, and all by sophie may author of "little prudy stories" "dotty dimple stories" "little prudy's flyaway series" "flaxie frizzle series" "the quinnebasset series" etc. boston lee and shepard publishers copyright, , by lee and shepard. _all rights reserved._ jimmy, lucy, and all. norwood press j.s. cushing & co.--berwick & smith norwood mass. u.s.a. contents chapter i. the tallyho ii. the first dinner iii. lucy's gold mine iv. "the knitting-woman" v. the air-castle vi. "grandma graymouse" vii. the zebra kitten viii. stealing a chimney ix. "chicken little" and joe x. the thief found xi. begging pardon xii. "the little schoolma'am's earthquake" xiii. nate's cave xiv. jimmy's good luck list of illustrations "edith was busy taking their photographs" "'it is perfectly awful!' said aunt lucy" edith painting the cherub for mrs. mcquilken "'james s. dunlee, will--you--forgive me?'" jimmy, lucy, and all i the tallyho "i never saw a gold mine in my life; and now i'm going to see one," cried lucy, skipping along in advance of the others. it was quite a large party; the whole dunlee family, with the two sanfords,--uncle james and aunt vi,--making ten in all, counting maggie, the maid. they had alighted from the cars at a way-station, and were walking along the platform toward the tallyho coach which was waiting for them. lucy was firmly impressed with the idea that they were starting for the gold mines. the truth was, they were on their way to an old mining-town high up in the cuyamaca mountains, called castle cliff; but there had been no gold there for a great many years. mr. dunlee was in rather poor health, and had been "ordered" to the mountains. the others were perfectly well and had not been "ordered" anywhere: they were going merely because they wanted to have a good time. "papa would be so lonesome without us children," said edith, "he needs us all for company." he was to have still more company. mr. and mrs. hale were coming to-morrow to join the party, bringing their little daughter barbara, lucy's dearest friend. they could not come to-day; there would have been hardly room for them in the tallyho. with all "the bonnie dunlees,"--as uncle james called the children,--and all the boxes, baskets, and bundles, the carriage was about as full as it could hold. it was seldom that the driver used this tallyho. he was quite choice of it, and generally drove an old stage, unless, as happened just now, he was taking a large party. it was a very gay tallyho, as yellow as the famous pumpkin coach of cinderella, only that the spokes of the wheels were striped off with scarlet. there were four white horses, and every horse sported two tiny american flags, one in each ear. "all aboard!" called out the driver, a brown-faced, broad-shouldered man, with a twinkle in his eye. "all aboard!" responded mr. sanford, echoed by jimmy-boy. whereupon crack went the driver's long whip, round went the red and yellow wheels, and off sped the white horses as freely as if they were thinking of lucy's gold mine and longing to show it to her, and didn't care how many miles they had to travel to reach it. but this was all lucy's fancy. they were thinking of oats, not gold mines. these bright horses knew they were not going very far up the mountain. they would soon stop to rest in a good stable, and other horses not so handsome would take their places. it was a very hard road, and grew harder and harder, and the driver always changed horses twice before he got to the end of the journey. as the tallyho rattled along, the older people in it fell to talking; and the children looked at the country they were passing, sang snatches of songs, and gave little exclamations of delight. edith threw one arm around her older sister katharine, saying:-- "o kyzie, aren't you glad you live in california? how sweet the air is, and how high the mountains look all around! when we were east last summer didn't you pity the people? only think, they never saw any lemons and oranges growing! they don't know much about roses either; they only have roses once a year." "that's true," replied kyzie. "let me button your gloves, edy, you'll be dropping them off." "see those butterflies! i'd be happy if bab was only in here," murmured a little voice from under lucy's hat. "bab didn't want to come with her papa and mamma; she wanted to come with _me_!" "now, lucy, don't be foolish," said edith. "where could we have put bab? there's not room enough in this coach, unless one of the rest of us had got out. you'll see bab to-morrow, and she'll be in castle cliff all summer; so you needn't complain." "_i_ wasn't complaining, no indeed! only i don't want to go down in the gold mine till bab comes. i s'pose they'll put us down in a bucket, won't they? i want uncle james to go with us." jimmy-boy laughed and threw himself about in quite a gale. he often found his little sister very amusing. "excuse me, lucy," said he; "but i do think you're very ignorant! that mine up there is all played out, and uncle james has told us so ever so many times. didn't you hear him? the shaft is more than half full of muddy water. i'd like to see you going down in a bucket!" "well, then, jimmy dunlee, what _shall_ we do at castle cliff?" "we've brought a tent with us, and for one thing i'm going to camp out," replied jimmy. "that's a grand thing, they say." "don't! there'll be something come and eat you up, sure as you live," said lucy, who had a vague notion that camping out was connected in some way with wild animals, such as coyotes and mountain lions. "poh! you don't know the least thing about castle cliff, lucy! and uncle james has talked and talked! tell me what he said, now do." uncle james was seated nearly opposite, for the two long seats of the tallyho faced each other. lucy spoke in a low tone, not wishing him to overhear. "he said we were going to board at a big house pretty near the old mine." "yes, mr. templeton's." "and he said somebody had a white spanish rabbit with reddish brown eyes and its mouth all a-quiver." "yes, i heard him say that about the rabbit. and what are those things that come and walk on top of the house in the morning?" "i know. they are woodpeckers. they tap on the roof, and the noise sounds like 'jacob, jacob, wake up, jacob!' uncle james says when strangers hear it they think somebody is calling, and they say, 'oh, yes, we're coming!' i shan't say that; i shall know it's woodpeckers. tell some more, jimmy." "yes" said eddo, leaving maggie and wedging himself between lucy and jimmy. "tell some more, jimmum!" "well, there's a post-office in town and there's a telephone, and mr. templeton has lots of things brought up to castle cliff from the city; so we shall have plenty to eat; chicken and ice-cream and things. that makes me think, i'm hungry. wouldn't they let us open a luncheon basket?" kyzie thought not; so jimmy went on telling lucy what he knew of castle cliff. "it's named for an air-castle there is up there; it's a thing they _call_ an air-castle anyway. a man built it in the hollow of some trees, away up, up, up. i'm going to climb up there to see it." "so'm i," said lucy. "ho, you can't climb worth a cent; you're only a girl!" "but she has an older brother; and sometimes older brothers are kind enough to help their little sisters," remarked kyzie, with a meaning smile toward jimmy; but jimmy was looking another way. "uncle james told a funny story about that air-castle," went on kyzie. "did you hear him tell of sitting up there one day and seeing a little toad help another toad--a lame one--up the trunk of the tree?" "no, i didn't hear," said lucy. "how did the toad do it?" "i'll let you all guess." "pushed him?" said edith. "no." "took him up pickaback," suggested lucy. "nothing of the sort. he just took his friend's lame foot in his mouth, and the two toads hopped along together! uncle james said it probably wasn't the first time, for they kept step as if they were used to it." "wasn't that cunning?" said edith. and jimmy remarked after a pause, "if lucy wants to go up to that castle, maybe i could steady her along; only there's bab. she'd have to go too. and i don't believe it's any place for girls!" the ride was a long one, forty miles at least. the passengers had dinner at a little inn, the elegant horses were placed in a stable; and the tallyho started again at one o'clock with a black horse, a sorrel horse, and two gray ones. the afternoon wore on. the horses climbed upward at every step; and though the journey was delightful, the passengers were growing rather tired. "wish i could sit on the seat with the king-ductor," besought little eddo, moving about uneasily. "that isn't a conductor, it's a driver. conductors are the men that go on the steam-cars,--the 'choo choo cars,'" explained jimmum. then in a lower tone, "they don't have any cars up at castle cliff, and i'm glad of it." lucy did not understand why he should be glad, and jimmy added in a lower tone:-- "because--don't you remember how some little folks used to act about steam-engines? they might do it again, you know." "yes, i 'member now. but that was a long time ago, jimmy. he wouldn't run after engines now." "who wouldn't?" inquired young master eddo, forgetting the "king-ductor" and turning about to face his elder brother. "who wouldn't run after the engine, jimmum?" "nobody--i mean _you_ wouldn't." "no, no, not me," assented eddo, shaking his flaxen head. and there the matter would have ended, if lucy had not added most unluckily: "'twas when you were only a baby that you did it, eddo. you said to the engine, 'come here, little choo choo, eddo won't hurt oo.' _you_ didn't know any better." "_'course_ i knew better," said eddo, shaking his head again, but this time with an air of bewilderment. "_i_ didn't say, 'come here, little choo choo.' no, no, not me!" "oh, but you did, darling," persisted lucy. "you were just a tiny bit of a boy. you stood right on the track, and the engine was coming, 'puff, puff,' and you said, 'come here, little choo choo, eddo won't hurt oo!'" "i didn't! oh! oh! oh! _when'd_ i say that? _did_ the engine hurt me? _where_ did it hurt me? say, jimmum, where did the engine hurt me?" putting his hand to his throat, to his ears, to his side. the more he thought of it, the worse he felt; till appalled by the idea of what he must have suffered he finally fell to sobbing in his mother's arms, and she soothed his imaginary woes with kisses and cookies. for the remainder of the journey he was in pretty good spirits and found much diversion in watching the gambols of the two dogs following the tallyho. one was a castle cliff dog, black and shaggy, named slam; the other, yellow and smooth, belonged to the "king-ductor" or driver, and was called bang. slam and bang often darted off for a race and eddo nearly gave them up for lost; but they always came back wagging their tails and capering about as if to say:-- "hello, eddo, we ran away just to scare you, and we'll do it again if we please!" it was a great day for dogs. ever so many dogs ran out to meet slam and bang. they always bit their ears for a "how d'ye do?" and then trotted along beside them just for company. eddo found it quite exciting. one was a mexican dog, without a particle of hair, but he did not seem to be in the least ashamed of his singular appearance. edith said it was an "empty country," and indeed there were few houses; but there must have been more dogs than houses, for the whole journey had a running accompaniment of "bow-wow-wows." the farther up hill the road wound the steeper it grew; and jimmy exclaimed more than once:-- "this coach is standing up straight on its hind feet, papa! just look! 'twill spill us all out backward!" but it did nothing of the sort. it took them straight to castle cliff, "nearly six thousand feet above the level of the sea," and there it stopped, before the front door of the hotel. it was about half-past five o'clock in the afternoon, and mr. templeton, who had been looking out for the tallyho, came down the steps to meet his guests. ii the first dinner mr. templeton's wife was just behind him. they both greeted the party as if they had all been old friends. the house, a large white one, stood as if in the act of climbing the hill. in front was a sloping lawn full of brilliant flowers, bordered with house-leek, or "old hen and chickens," a plant running over with pink blossoms. kyzie had not expected to see a garden like this on the mountain. at one side of the house, between two black oak trees, was a hammock, and near it a large stone trough, into which water dripped from a faucet. two birds, called red-hammers, were sipping the water with their bills, not at all disturbed by the arrival of strangers. it was a small settlement. the hotel, by far the largest house in castle cliff, looked down with a grand air upon the few cottages in sight. these tiny cottages were not at all pretty, and had no grass or lawns in front, but people from the city were keeping house in them for the summer; and besides there were tents scattered all about, full of "campers." as the "bonnie dunlees" and their elders entered the hotel, a merry voice called out:-- "a hearty welcome to you, my friends, and three cheers for castle cliff!" mr. and mrs. dunlee and the sanfords walked on smiling, and the children lingered awhile outside; but it was a full minute before any of them discovered that the cheery voice belonged to a parrot, whose cage swung from a tall sycamore overhead. "polly's pretty sociable," laughed mr. templeton. "do you like animals, young ladies? if so, please stand up here in a group, and you shall have another welcome." then he clapped his hands and called out "thistleblow!" and immediately a pretty red pony came frisking along and began to caper around the young people with regular dancing steps, making at the same time the most graceful salaams, pausing now and then to sway himself as if he were courtesying. it was a charming performance. the little creature had once belonged to a band of gypsies, who had given him a regular course of training. "he is trying to tell you how glad he is to see you," said mr. templeton, as the children shouted and clapped their hands. "oh, won't bab like it, though!" cried lucy. "seems as if i couldn't wait till to-morrow for bab to get here, for then the good times will begin." but for kyzie and edith and jimmy the good times had begun already. the five dunlees entered the house, little eddo clinging fast to jimmum's forefinger. they passed an old lady who sat on the veranda knitting. she gazed after them through her spectacles, and said to mr. templeton in a tone of inquiry:-- "boarders?" "yes," he replied, rubbing his chin, "and they have lots of jingle in 'em too; they're just the kind i like." "well, i hope they won't get into any mischief up here, that's all i've got to say. nobody wants to take children to board anyway, but you can't always seem to help it." and then the old lady turned to her knitting again; indeed her fingers had been flying all the while she talked. mr. templeton looked at her curiously, and wondered if she disliked children. "i'd as lief have 'em 'round the house as her birds and kittens anyway," he reflected; for she kept a magpie, three cats and a canary; and these pets had not been always agreeable guests at the hotel. it was now nearly six o'clock, and savory odors from the kitchen mingled with the balmy breath of the flowers stealing in from the lawn. the dunlee party had barely time for hasty toilets when the gong sounded for dinner. the templeton dining-room was large and held several tables. the dunlees had the longest of these, the one near the west window. there were twelve plates set, though only nine were needed to-night. the three extra plates had been placed there for the hale family, who were expected to-morrow. mrs. dunlee had told the landlord that she would like the hales at her table. "and bab will sit side o' me," said lucy. "oh, won't we be happy?" as the dunlees took their seats to-night and looked around the room they saw a droll sight. the old lady, who had been knitting on the veranda, was seated at a small table in one corner; and on each side of her in a chair sat a cat! one cat was a gray "coon," the other an angora; and both of them sat up as grave as judges, nibbling bits of cheese. mrs. mcquilken herself, dressed in a very odd style, was knitting again. she was a remarkably industrious woman, and as it would be perhaps three or four minutes before the soup came in, she could not bear to waste the time in idleness. her head-dress was odd enough. it was just a strip of white muslin wound around the head like an east indian puggaree. mrs. mcquilken had many outlandish fashions. she was the widow of a sea-captain and had been abroad most of her life. the children could hardly help staring at her. even after they had learned to know her pretty well they still wanted to stare; and not being able to remember her name they spoke of her as "the knitting-woman." "look, lucy," whispered jimmy; "there's a boy i know over there at that little table. it's nate pollard." he waved his hand toward him and nate waved in reply. at home jimmy had not known nate very well, for he was older than himself and in higher classes; but here among strangers jimmy-boy was glad to see a familiar face. mr. and mrs. pollard were with their son. perhaps they had all come for the summer. jimmy hoped so. there were two colored servants gliding about the room, and a pretty waiting-maid. "o dear, no cook from cathay," whispered kyzie to edith. "i don't know what you mean." "i mean i wanted a cook from cathay or cipango," went on kyzie, laughing behind her napkin. "i'm going to shake you," said edith, who suddenly bethought herself that cathay and cipango were the old names for china and japan. this had been part of her history lesson a few days ago. how kyzie did remember everything! at that moment the colored man from georgia stood at her elbow with a steaming plate of soup. lucy looked at him askance. why couldn't he have been a chinaman with a pigtail? she had told bab she was almost sure there would be a "china cook" at the mountains, and when he passed the soup he would say, "have soup-ee?" bab had been in europe and in maine and in california, but knew very little of chinamen and had often said she "wanted to eat china cooking." the dinner was excellent. eddo enjoyed it very much for a while; then his head began to nod over his plate, his spoon waved uncertainly in the air, and maggie had to be sent for to take him away from the table. the ride up the mountain had been so fatiguing that by eight o'clock all the dunlees, little and big, were glad to find themselves snugly in bed. they slept late, every one of them, and even the woodpeckers, tapping on the roof next morning, failed to arouse them with their "jacob, jacob, wake up, wake up, jacob!" after breakfast edith happened to leave the dining-room just behind mrs. mcquilken, who held her two cats cuddled up in her arms like babies, and was kissing their foreheads and calling them "mamma's precious darlings." as edith heard this she could not help smiling, and mrs. mcquilken paused in the entry a moment to say:-- "i guess you like cats." "i do, ma'am. oh, yes, very much." "that's right. i like to see children fond of animals. now, i've got a new kitty upstairs, a zebra kitty, that you'd be pleased with. it's a beauty, and _such_ a tail! come up to my room and see it if you want to. my room's number five. but don't you come now; i shall be busy an hour and a half. remember, an hour and a half." edith thanked her and ran to tell kyzie what the "knitting-woman" had been saying. "go get your kodak," said kyzie. "nate pollard is going to take us all out on an exploring expedition. you know he has been in castle cliff a whole week, and knows the places." "first thing i want to see is that mine," said lucy, as they all met outside the hotel. "the mine?" repeated kyzie, and looked at eddo. "i'm afraid it isn't quite safe to take little bits of people to such a place as that. do you think it is, nate?" "rather risky," replied nate. eddo had caught the words, "little bits of people," and his eyes opened wide. "what does _mine_ mean, jimmum?" "a great big hole, i guess. see here, eddo, let's go in the house and find maggie." "yes," chimed in edith, "let's go find maggie. there's a _beau_-tiful picture book in mamma's drawer. you just ask maggie and she'll show you the picture of those nice little guinea-pigs." though very young, eddo was acute enough to see through this little manoeuvre. it was not the first time the other children had tried to get him out of the way. they wanted to go to see a charming "great big hole" somewhere, and they thought he would fall into it and get hurt. they were always thinking such things--so stupid of them! they thought he used to run after "choo choos" and talk to them, when of course he never did it; 'twas some other little boy. "i want to go with jimmum," said he, stoutly. "you ought to not go 'thout me! _i_ shan't talk to that mine. _i_ shan't say, 'come, little mine, eddo won't hurt oo.' no, no, not me! i shan't say nuffin', and i shan't fall in the hole needer. so there! h'm! 'm! 'm!" it was not easy to resist his pleading. perhaps aunt vi saw how matters were, for she appeared just then, bearing the news that she and uncle james were going to drive, and would like to take one of the children. "and eddo is the one we want. he is so small that he can sit on the seat between us. aren't the rest of you willing to give him up just for this morning? he can go to walk with you another time." so they all said they would try to give him up, and he bounded away with aunt vi, his dear little face beaming with proud satisfaction. iii lucy's gold mine the other children strolled leisurely along toward a place that looked like a long strip of sand. "a sand beach," said kyzie. "no," said nate; "it isn't a beach and it isn't sand." "what _can_ you mean? what else is it, pray?" she stooped and took up a handful of something that certainly looked like sand. the others did the same. "what do you call that?" they all asked, as they sifted it through their fingers. nate smiled in a superior way. "well, i don't call it sand, because it isn't sand. i thought it was when i first saw it; i got cheated, same as you. but there's no sand to it; it's just _tailings_." "what in the world is tailings?" asked kyzie, taking up another handful and looking it over very carefully. strange if she, a girl in her teens, couldn't tell sand when she saw it! but she politely refrained from making any more remarks, and waited for nate to answer her question. he was an intelligent boy, between eleven and twelve. "well, tailings are just powdered rocks," said nate. "powdered rocks? who powdered them? what for?" asked edith. "why, the miners did it years ago. they ground up the rocks in the mine into powder just as fine as they could, and then washed the powder to get the gold out." "oh, i see," said edith. "so these tailings are what's left after the gold's washed out." "yes, they brought 'em and spread 'em 'round here to get rid of 'em i suppose." "is the gold all washed out, every bit?" asked jimmy. "seems as if i could see a little shine to it now." "well, they got out all they could. there may be a little dust of it left though. mr. templeton says the folks in 'frisco that own the mine think there's _some_ left, and the tailings ought to be sent to san diego and worked over." jimmy took up another handful. yes, there was a faint shine to it; it began to look precious. "well, there's a heap of it anyway. it goes ever so far down," said he, thrusting in a stick. "it's from ten to twelve feet deep," replied nate, proud of his knowledge; "and see how long and wide!" "_i_ don't see how they ever ground up rocks so fine," said kyzie. "exactly like sand. and it stretches out so far that you'd think 'twas a sand beach by the sea,--only there isn't any sea." "well, it's just as good as a beach anyway," said nate. "just as good for picnics and the like of that. when there's anything going on, they get out the brass band and have fireworks and bring chairs and benches and sit round here. i tell you it's great!" "there are lots of benches here now," remarked edith. "and what's that long wooden thing?" "that's a staging. that's where they have the brass band sit; that's where they send up the fireworks." "oh, i hope they'll have fireworks while we're here, and picnics." "of course they will. they're always having 'em. and i heard somebody say they're talking of a barbecue." edith clapped her hands. she did not know what a barbecue might be, but it sounded wild and jolly. "what a long stretch of mud-puddle right here by the tailings," said kyzie. nate laughed. "it _is_ a damp spot, that's a fact!" they all wondered what he was laughing at. "i guess there used to be water here once," said jimmy at a venture. "there's water here now standing round in spots. and,--why, it's _fishes_!" lucy stooped all of a sudden and picked up a dead fish. "ugh! i never caught a fish before!" but next moment she threw it away in disgust. "how did dead fishes ever get into this mud-puddle?" queried edith. "well, they used to live in it before it dried up," replied nate. "fact is, this is a _lake_!" everybody exclaimed in surprise; and kyzie said:-- "it doesn't seem possible; but then things are so queer up here that you can believe almost anything." "really it is a lake. it's all right in the winter, and swells tremendously then; but this is a dry year, you know, and it's all dried up." kyzie forgave the lake for drying up, but pitied the fishes. edith thought castle cliff was "a funny place anyway." "what little bits of houses! did they dry up too?" "oh, those are just the cabins and bunk-houses that were built for the miners, ever so long ago when the mine was going. fixed up into cottages now for summer boarders. do you want to see the mine?" they went around behind the shaft-house and beyond the old saw-mill. "o my senses!" cried edith, "is that the old gold mine, that monstrous great thing? isn't it horrid?" they all agreed that it was "perfectly awful and dreadful," and that it made you shudder to look into it; and that they were glad baby eddo was safely out of the way. the mine was a deep, irregular chasm, full of dirty water and rocks. it had a hungry, cruel look; you could almost fancy it was waiting in wicked glee to swallow up thoughtless little children. "it doesn't seem as if anybody could ever have dug for gold in that horrid ditch," exclaimed kyzie. "you'd better believe they did, though," said the young guide. "they used to get it out in nuggets, cart-loads of it." he was not quite sure of the nuggets, but liked the sound of the word. "yes, cart-loads of it. i tell you 'twas the richest mine in the whole cuyamaca mountains." "too bad the gold gave out," said kyzie, gazing regretfully into the watery depths. "but it didn't give out! why, there's gold enough left down there to buy up the whole united states! they lost the vein, that's all" "the vein? what's a vein?" asked edith. "well, you see," replied the guide, "gold goes along underground in streaks; they call it veins. the miners had to stop digging here because they lost track of the streak. but they'll find it again." "how do _you_ know?" asked jimmy-boy, who thought nate was putting on too many airs. "because mr. templeton said so. they've sent for colonel somebody from i--forget where. he's a splendid mining engineer, great for finding lost veins. he'll be here next week and bring a lot of men." "whoop-ee!" cried jimmy, "he'll find the vein and things, and we'll be having gold as plenty as blackberries!" "just what i was talking about yesterday when you laughed," broke in lucy. "i said i'd go down in a bucket; don't you know i did?" edith was gazing spellbound at the yawning chasm. "look at those rickety steps! the men will get killed! 'twill all cave in!" "no danger," said nate, "there are walls down there, stone walls, papa says, that keep it all safe." he meant "galleries," but had forgotten the word. "well, i don't care if there are five hundred stone walls, i guess the men could drown all the same!" said edith. "that water ought to be let out, nate pollard! if the colonel is coming next week why don't they let out the water this very day and give the place a chance to dry off." she spoke in a tone of the gravest anxiety, as if she understood the matter perfectly, and felt the whole care of the mine. indeed, the mine had become suddenly very interesting to all the children. it certainly looked like a rough, wild, frightful hole; nothing more than a hole; but if there were gold down there in "nuggets," why, that was quite another matter; it became at once an enchanted hole; it was as delightful as a fairy story. "i hope it's true that they've sent for that colonel," said kyzie. "of course it's true," replied nate, who did not like to have his word doubted. "i s'pose there are buckets 'round here. oh, aren't you glad we came to castle cliff?" said lucy, pirouetting around jimmy. "bab will be glad, too," she thought. for lucy never could look forward to any pleasure without wishing her darling "niece" to share it with her. "well, i guess we've seen everything there is to see," remarked nate, who had now told all he knew and was ready to go. while they still wandered about, talking of "tailings" and "nuggets," they were startled by the peal of a bell. "twelve o'clock! two minutes ahead of time though," said nate, taking from his pocket a handsome gold watch which jimmy had always admired. "what bell is that? where is it?" they all asked. "and what is it ringing for?" "it's on top of the schoolhouse and it's ringing for noon. 'twill ring again in the evening at nine o'clock. but i can tell 'em they ought to set it back two minutes." "a nine o'clock bell? why, that's a _curfew_ bell! how romantic!" cried kyzie. she had read of "the mellow lin-lan-lone of evening bells," but had never heard it. "let's go to the schoolhouse." as luncheon at the templeton house would not be served for an hour yet, they kept on to the hollow where the schoolhouse stood. it was a small, unpainted building in the shade of three pine trees. "just wait a minute right here," said edith, the young artist, unstrapping her kodak. "i want a snap-shot at it. stand there by that tree, jimmum. put your foot out just so. i wish you were barefooted!" just then, as if they had overheard the wish, two little boys came running down the hill, and one of them was barefooted. moreover, when kyzie asked if they would stand for a picture, they consented at once. "my name's joseph rolfe," said the elder, twitching off his hat, "and his name,"--pointing to his companion with a chuckle,--"his name is chicken little." "no such a thing! now you quit!" retorted the younger lad in a choked voice, digging his toes into the dirt, "quit a-plaguing me! my name's henry small and you know it!" while edith was busy taking their photographs, kyzie thanked the urchins very pleasantly. they both gazed at her with admiration. "see here," said joe rolfe, twitching off his hat again very respectfully, "are you going to keep school in the schoolhouse? i wish you would!" at this remarkable speech jimmy and edith fell to laughing; but kyzie only blushed a little, and smiled. how very grown-up she must seem to joe if he could think of her as a teacher! she was now a tall girl of fourteen, with a fine strong face and an earnest manner. she was beginning to tire of being classed among little girls, and it was delightful to find herself looked upon for the first time in her life as a young lady. but she only said:-- "oh, no, joe, people don't teach school in summer! summer is vacation." "well, but they do sometimes," persisted joe; "there was a girl kep' this school last summer. she called it 'vacation school.' but we didn't like her; she licked like fury." "so she did," echoed chicken little, "licked and pulled ears. kep' a stick on the desk." and with these last words both the little boys took their leave, running up hill with great speed, as if they thought that standing for a picture had been a great waste of time. "that chicken boy is the biggest cry-baby," said nate. "the boys like to plague him to see him cry. joe rolfe has some sense." as the little party walked on, miss katharine turned her head more than once for another look at the schoolhouse. "wouldn't it be fun, edy, to teach school in there and ring that 'lin-lan-lone bell' to call in the scholars? i'd make you study botany harder'n you ever did before." "no, thank you, miss dunlee," replied edith, courtesying. "you'll not get me to worrying over botany. i studied it a month once, but when i go up in the mountains i go to have a good time." she pursed her pretty mouth as she spoke. her sister katharine was by far the best botanist in her class, and was always tearing up flowers in the most wasteful manner. worse than that, she expected edith to do the same thing and learn the hard names of the poor little withered pieces. "you don't love flowers as well as i do, kyzie, or you couldn't abuse them so!" this is what she often said to her learned sister after kyzie had made "a little preach" about the beauties of botany. as they entered the hotel for luncheon, kyzie was still thinking of the schoolhouse and the sweet-toned bell and the singular speech of joe rolfe, about wanting her for a teacher. what came of these thoughts you shall hear later on. "well, i declare, i forgot all about that zebra kitty," said edith. "what will the knitting-woman think of such actions?" iv the "knitting-woman" the "knitting-woman" met edith at the dining-room door after luncheon, and said to her rather sharply:-- "well, little girl, i thought you liked kittens?" "i do, mrs.--madam, i certainly do," replied edith feeling guilty and ashamed. "but nate pollard took us to see the gold mine and the schoolhouse and we've just got back." "oh, that's it! i thought 'twas very still around here--i missed the noise of the _boyoes_.--you don't know what i mean by boyoes," she added, smiling. "i picked up the word in ireland. i'm always picking up words. it means _boys_." "i understand; oh, yes." "well, 'twas a little trouble to me, your not coming when i expected you; but you may come this afternoon. i'll be ready in ten minutes." "yes, madam, thank you." edith ran to her mother laughing. "oh, mamma, she is the queerest woman! calls boys _boyoes_! i must go to see her kitten whether i want to or not--in just ten minutes! i wish i could take kyzie with me; would you dare?" "certainly not. katharine has not been invited. and don't make a long call, edith." "no, mamma, i'll not even sit down. i'll just look at the zebra kitty and come right away." mrs. dunlee smiled. if there were many pets at number five it was not likely that edith would hasten away. "remember, daughter, fifteen minutes is long enough for a call on an entire stranger. you don't wish to annoy mrs. mcquilken; but if you should happen to forget, you'll hear this little bell tinkle, and that will remind you to leave." number five was a very interesting room, about as full as it could hold of oddities from various countries, together with four cats, a canary, and a mocking-bird. "if you had come this morning you would have seen mag, that's the magpie," said mrs. mcquilken. "she's off now, pretty creature. she likes to be picking a fuss with the chickens." the good lady had been knitting, but she dropped her work into the large pocket of her black apron, and moved up an easy-chair for her guest. edith forgot to take it. her eyes were roving about the room, attracted by the curiosities, though she dared not ask a single question. "that nest on the wall looks odd to you, i dare say," said mrs. mcquilken. "the twigs are woven together so closely that it looks nice enough for a lady's work-bag, now doesn't it?" edith said she thought it did. "well, that's the magpie's nest. she laid seven eggs in it once. i keep it now for her to sleep in; it's mag's cot-bed." edith's eyes, still roving, espied a handsome kitty asleep on the lounge. it must be the zebra kitty because of its black and dove-colored stripes. most remarkable stripes, so regular and distinct, yet so softly shaded. the face was black, with whiskers snow-white. how odd! edith had never seen white whiskers on a kitten. and then the long, sweeping black tail! mrs. mcquilken watched the little girl's face and no longer doubted her fondness for kittens. "i call her zee for short. look at that now!" and mrs. mcquilken straightened out the tail which was coiled around zee's back. "oh, how beautifully long!" cried edith. "long? i should say so! there was a cat-show at los angeles last fall, and one cat took a prize for a tail not so long as this by three-quarters of an inch! and zee only six months old!" the kitty, wide awake by this time, was holding high revel with a ball of yarn which the tortoise-shell cat had purloined from her mistress's basket. "dear thing! oh, isn't she sweet?" said edith, dropping on her knees before the graceful creature. mrs. mcquilken enjoyed seeing the child go off into small raptures; edith was fast winning her heart. "does your mother like cats?" she suddenly inquired. "not particularly," replied edith, clapping her hands, as zee with a quick dash bore away the ball out of the very paws of the coon cat. "mamma thinks cats are cold-hearted," said she, hugging zee to her bosom. "she says they don't love anybody." "i deny it!" exclaimed mrs. mcquilken, indignantly. "tell your mother to make a study of cats and she'll know better." edith looked rather frightened. "yes'm, i'll tell her." "they have very deep feelings and folks ought to know it. now, listen, little girl. i had two maltese kittens once. they were sisters and loved each other better than any girl sisters _you_ ever saw. one of the kittens got caught in a trap and we had to kill her. and the other one went round mewing and couldn't be comforted. she pined away, that kitty did, and in three days she died. now i know that for a fact." "poor child!" said edith, much touched. "_she_ wasn't cold-hearted, i'll tell mamma about that." "well, if she doesn't like 'em perhaps it wouldn't do any good; but while you're about it you might tell her of two tortoise-shell cats i had. they were sisters too. whiff had four kittens and puff had one and lost it. and the way whiff comforted puff! she took her right home into her own basket and they brought up the four kittens together. wasn't that lovely?" "oh, wasn't it, though?" said edith. "cats have hearts, i always knew they did." "that shows you're a sensible little girl," returned the old lady approvingly. "but you haven't told me yet what your name is?" "edith dunlee." "i knew 'twas dunlee--that's a scotch name; but i didn't know about the edith. well, edith, so you've been to see the gold mine? pokerish place, isn't it? i hear they're going to bring down the engine from the big plant and try to start it up again." edith had no idea what she meant by the "big plant," so made no reply. mrs. mcquilken went back to the subject of cats. "did you know the egyptians used to worship cats? well, sometimes they did. and when their cats died they went into mourning for them." "how queer!" "it does seem so, but it's just as you look at it, edith. cats are a sight of company. i didn't care so much about them or about birds either when my husband was alive and my little children, but now--" again she paused, and this time she did not go on again. some one out of doors laughed; it was jimmy dunlee, and the mocking-bird took up the merry sound and echoed it to perfection. "doesn't that seem human?" cried mrs. mcquilken. and really it did. it was exactly the laugh of a human boy, though it came from the throat of a tiny bird. "my little boys, pitt and roscoe, liked to hear him do that," said mrs. mcquilken. edith observed that she did not say "my boyoes." "pitt, the one that died in japan, doted on the mocking-bird. the other boy, roscoe, was all bound up in the canary." "does the canary sing?" "yes, he's a grand singer. just you wait till he pipes up. you'll be surprised. but you remember what i was saying a little while ago about your mother? that zebra kitty--" before she could finish the sentence edith heard the warning tinkle of the tea-bell, and sprang up suddenly, exclaiming: "good-by, mrs.--good-by, _madam_, i must go now. you've been very kind, thank you. good-by." and out of the door and away she skipped, leaving her hostess, who had not heard the bell, to wonder at her haste. "she went like a shot off a shovel," said the good lady, taking up her knitting-work. "she seemed to be such a well-mannered little girl, too! what got into her all at once? she acted as if she was 'possessed of the fox.'" this is a common expression in japan, and naturally mrs. mcquilken had caught it up, as she had caught up other odd things in her travels. she was something of a mocking-bird in her way, was the captain's widow. "i've taken quite a fancy to edith," she added, "a minute more and i should have offered to give her the zebra kitty. but there, i shouldn't want to make a fuss in the family. that woman, her mother, to think of her talking so hard about cats! she doesn't _look_ like that kind of a woman. i'm surprised." edith ran back to her mother breathless. "oh, mamma, i was having such a good time! and she didn't appear to be 'annoyed,' she talked just as fast all the time! but the bell rang while she was saying something and i had to run." "had to run? i hope you were not abrupt, my child?" "oh, no, mamma, not at all. i said 'good-by' twice, and thanked her and told her she had been very kind. that wasn't abrupt, was it? but oh, that kitty's tail! i forget how many inches and a quarter longer than any other kitty's tail in this state! and they are not cold-hearted,--i mean cats,--i promised to tell you." here followed an account of the two cat-sisters, who loved each other better than girl-sisters. "and think of one of them dying of grief, the sweet thing! human people don't die of grief, do they, mamma?" "not often, edith. such instances have been known, but they are very rare." "well," struck in wee lucy, who had been listening to the touching story, "well, i guess some folks would! bab would die for grief of me, and i would die for grief of bab; we _said_ we would!" she made this absurd little speech with tears in her eyes; but kyzie and edith dared not laugh, for mamma's forefinger was raised. mamma never allowed them to ridicule the friendship of the two little girls, who had made believe for more than a year that they were "aunt" and "niece." the play might be rather foolish, but the love was very sweet and true. lucy had been thinking all day of barbara and longing for her arrival. a full hour before it was time for the stage she went a little way up the mountain with jimmy, and they took turns gazing down the winding, dusty road through a spy-glass. "i shan't wait here any longer. what's the use?" declared jimmy. "she's coming! she's coming! i saw her first!" was lucy's glad cry. and she ran down the mountain in haste, though the stage, a grayish green one, was just turning a curve at least a mile away. "well, you _have_ been parted a good while," said uncle james, as the two dear friends met and embraced on the coach steps; "a day and a half!" "i'd have 'most died if i'd waited any longer," said aunt lucy, putting her arm around her niece and leading her up the gravel path with the pink "old hen and chickens" on either side. the little girls were entirely unlike, and the contrast was pleasant to see. lucy was very fair, with light curling hair:-- "blue were her eyes as the fairy flax, her cheeks like the dawn of day, and her bosom white as the hawthorn buds that ope in the month of may." bab was quite as pretty, but in another way. she had brilliant dark eyes and straight dark hair with a satin gloss. she was half a head shorter than her "auntie," though their ages were about the same. people liked to see them together, for they were always sociable and happy, and loved each other "dearilee." "oh, bab," said wee lucy, "i had such a _loneness_ without you!" "i had a loneness too, auntie lucy. seemed as if the time never would go." and then the dark head and the fair head met again for more kisses, while both the mammas looked on and said, in low tones and with smiles, as they always did:-- "how sweet! now we shall hear them singing about the place like two little birds." this was tuesday. the days went on happily until thursday afternoon, when "the dunlee party," which always included the hales and sanfords, set forth up the mountain for a sight of the famous "air-castle." of course nate was with them, but this time not as a guide; the guide was uncle james. the road, though rather steep, was not a hard one. mr. dunlee had his alpenstock, and uncle james walked beside him, holding little eddo by the hand. bab and lucy, or "the little two," as aunt vi called them, were side by side as usual, and lucy had asked bab to repeat the story of "little bo-peep" in french, for nate wanted to hear it. bab could speak french remarkably well. "petit beau bouton a perde ses moutons, il ne sais pas que les a pris. o laissez les tranquille! ils se retournerons, chacun sa queue apres lui." mrs. dunlee and kyzie were just behind the children, and while bab was repeating the verse kyzie said in a low tone:-- "oh, mamma, let me walk with you all the way, please. there's something i want to talk about." she looked so earnest that mrs. dunlee wondered not a little what it was her eldest daughter had to say. v the air-castle "a vacation school, katharine? and pray what may that be?" kyzie's cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining. she held her mother's hand and talked fast, though plainly she did not feel quite at her ease. "why, mamma, you've certainly heard of vacation schools--summer schools? they're very common nowadays. in the summer, you know; so that college people can go to them, and business people." "ah! like the one at coronado beach? now i understand. but it didn't occur to me that my little daughter would know enough to teach college people!" "now, mamma, don't laugh at me! of course i mean children, the little ignorant children right around here," making a sweeping gesture toward the cottages and "bunk houses" that dotted the country lower down the mountain, "i know enough to teach little children, i should hope, mamma." "possibly!" mrs. dunlee's tone was so doubtful that her daughter felt crushed. "possibly you may know enough about books; but book-knowledge is not all that is required in a teacher. could you keep the children in order? would they obey you?" the little girl's head drooped a little. "let me see, you are only fourteen?" "fourteen last april, mamma. but everybody says, don't you know, that i'm very large for my age." she tried to speak bravely, but the look of quiet amusement on her listener's face made it rather hard for her to go on. "i suppose," said she, dropping her eyes again, "i suppose they don't know much here, mamma,--the families that live here all the time. some of the boys actually go barefooted." "so i have observed. a great saving of shoes." "and they had a school last summer," went on kyzie, resolutely. "a young girl taught it who boarded where we do. mr. templeton said she did it for fun." "indeed!" "but they didn't like her a bit. i could teach as well as she did anyway, mamma, for she just went around the room boxing their ears." "is it possible, katharine?" mrs. dunlee was serious enough now. "to box a child's ears is simply brutal!" "i knew you'd say so, mamma; but that was just what miss severance did. of course i wouldn't touch their ears any more than i would fly!" mrs. dunlee turned now and regarded her daughter attentively. "but how did you ever happen to take up this sudden fancy for teaching, dear? it's all new to me. what first made you think of it--at your age? can you tell?" "oh, mamma, i've been thinking about it, off and on, for a year. ever since i was at willowbrook last summer and heard grandma parlin talk about _her_ first school. why, don't you remember, she was just fourteen, she said, nearly three months younger than i am." mrs. dunlee understood it all now, and said to herself:-- "dear old grandma parlin! little did she imagine she was filling her great grand-daughter's head with mischievous notions!" they walked on a short way in silence. "but you must remember, katharine, that was seventy years ago. grandma parlin wouldn't advise a girl of fourteen to do in these days as she did then. schools are very different now." "yes, indeed, mamma, very, very different. isn't it too bad? i'd like to 'board 'round' the way grandma did, and rap on the window with a ferule, and 'choose sides' and all that! but there's one thing i could do!" exclaimed the little girl, brightening. "i could make the children 'toe the mark'; wouldn't that be fun? i mean stand in a line on a crack in the floor. how grandma would laugh! i'll write her all about it, and send her a photograph, bare feet and all." in her eagerness kyzie spoke as if the matter were all arranged and she could almost see the children "toeing the mark." "not so fast, my daughter. remember there are three points to be settled before we can discuss the matter seriously. first, would your papa consent? second, would your mamma consent? third, do the people of castle cliff want a summer school anyway?" "three points? i see, oh, yes," said kyzie, meekly. "but now, katharine, let us walk a little faster and join the others. and not a word more of this to-day." "what did keep you two so long?" asked edith, coming to meet them with a bright face. if her happy thoughts had not been dwelling on the zebra cat just presented her by the "knitting-woman," she would have observed at once that mamma and kyzie had been "talking secrets"; though she might not have suspected that this had anything to do with the vacation school. "do hurry along," she added. "i want to show you the funniest sight! i don't believe you've seen barbara hale, have you?" edith could hardly speak for laughing; and her mother and kyzie did not wonder when they beheld the figure that little bab had made of herself, by a new style of dressing her hair. the two little girls were, as i have told you, as different as possible, but had an intense desire to look "just alike"; and when they tried their best the result was very funny. i will mention here that lucy "despised" her own hair for not being straight like bab's, and had often tried to braid it down her back; but as the braid always came out and the ribbon came off, the attempt had been forbidden. now, however, as the children had left their city home and come to a place where everybody was "on holiday," the mammas decided that they might have a little more liberty. their dresses were off the same piece,--good, strong brown ones; their hats were alike; and, as for their hair, they were allowed to wear it as they pleased "just for this summer." "we'll look exactly alike up there in the mountains," the little souls had said to each other; and this was perhaps one reason why they had been so overjoyed at the prospect of going. [illustration] but to-day, ah! who would have dreamed that sweet little bab could become such a fright? she had done up her hair the night before on as many as twenty curl-papers. before starting for the air-castle she had taken out some of the papers and found--not ringlets, but wisps of very unruly hair. it would not curl any more than water will run up hill. she went to aunt lucy in her trouble to seek advice. aunt lucy looked her over with great care and then announced:-- "it is perfectly awful! don't take out any more papers, bab. let 'em be, so you can have something to stick the curls on to." and so it was done. the "curls," as lucy was pleased to call them, were drawn up and looped and twisted and fastened by hair-pins to the other curls left in the papers. the effect was most surprising. it made bab's head so much higher than usual that she was as tall now as auntie, and that in itself was a great gain. besides, this style, as lucy said, was the "pompy-doo," and very fashionable! if bab could have kept her hat on! but she couldn't, and the moment it came off they all cried out:-- "why-ee, barbara!" and turned away to laugh. if mrs. mcquilken had been there she would have said the child looked "as if she was possessed of the fox." "the little goosies! let them enjoy it!" whispered mrs. hale to mrs. dunlee. "but those topknots will have to come down before the child can go to the dinner-table." and then both the ladies laughed privately behind a large tree. the mountain air was doing them good, and they often had as merry times together as the young people. "hear the boyoes," cried edith, meaning jimmy and nate, who had now reached the air-castle and were shouting with all their might. the children ran, and so indeed did the older ones, for there was an excellent path all the way. "so that is the air-castle," exclaimed kyzie, when they were all within sight of it. "it's a real house, built right in the mountain." she was right. there happened to be a great crack right here in the rocky side of the mountain, and a cunning little house had been tucked into the crack. it was built of small stones. it had two real windows with glass panes, and a real door with a brass knocker, which the children declared was "too cute for anything." "the house is as strong as a fort," said uncle james. "do you observe it is walled all around with stones?" "do you know who built it?" asked aunt vi; "and why he built it?" "a rich mexican named bandini. he admired the view from the mountain, and i don't blame him, do you? he wanted a nice, quiet place where he could read and write; that was why he came here. he has been here every summer for years." "well," said mr. dunlee, "if you call this an air-castle i must say it is the most solid one i ever heard of! it doesn't look dreamy at all. why, an earthquake could hardly shake it." "the steps that lead up to it are not dreamy either," said mrs. dunlee. "real granite; and there's a large flag up there floating from the evergreen tree." the "boyoes" had already climbed the steps, and nate called down to mrs. dunlee, "it's the mexican flag!" but she had known that at a glance. the colors were red, white, and green, and the device was an eagle on a prickly pear with a snake in his mouth. "i wonder if there's anybody at home," said nate, and would have lifted the knocker if jimmy had not said, "wait for uncle james." jimmy thought as uncle james was the leader of the expedition he should be the one to do the knocking, or at any rate to tell them when to knock. nate himself had not thought of this. he was not so refined as jimmy, either by nature or by training. everybody had climbed the steps now. the older people were enjoying the magnificent view; but bab and lucy were looking for the two toads who had been seen going up to the castle together, the well toad taking the lame toad's foot in his mouth. "i wish they were both here," said uncle james, "for you would like to see them take that little journey." "and the mexican who built this air-castle," said aunt vi, "is he here this summer?" "no, he died last spring." "died?" echoed little eddo, who had heard that dying means "going up in the sky." "what made him die, mamma? didn't he like it down here?" then without waiting for a reply he added most tenderly and unexpectedly, "isn't it nice that _you're_ not dead, mamma?" "why do you think that, my son?" she asked, wondering what he would say. "oh, _be_-cause i _am_ so glad about it." and at this sweet little speech his mother caught him up in her arms and kissed him. how could she help it? "now," said uncle james, "let us see if we can enter the castle. 'open locks whoever knocks.' try it, boys." nate lifted the knocker and pounded with a will. there was no answer or sign of life. "let's see if this will help us," said uncle james, taking a key from his vest pocket:-- "for i'm the keeper of the keys, and i do whatever i please." the key actually fitted the lock, the door opened at once, and they all entered the castle. "mr. templeton lent me the key," explained mr. sanford. "he said the castle was as empty as a last year's bird's nest, but i thought we might like to take a look at it." "we do, oh, we do," said lucy. "isn't it queer? just two rooms and nothing in 'em at all! oh, bab, let's you and i bring some dishes up here and keep house! here's a cupboard right in the wall." "i guess it's mother hubbard's cupboard, it looks bare enough. just a table in the room and one old chair," exclaimed edith. "i'm glad we came in, though," said kyzie. "isn't it beautiful to stand in the door and look down, down, and see castle cliff right at your feet? and off there a city--why, what's that noise?" no one answered. the older people knew the sound: it was that of an angry rattlesnake out of doors shaking his rattle. mr. dunlee said:-- "stay in the house, please, you ladies, and keep the children here. james and i will go out and attend to this." he had an alpenstock, uncle james a cane. the ladies and mr, hale and the children watched the two gentlemen from the window,--all but little eddo, whose mother was playing bo-peep with him to prevent him from looking out. a handsome rattlesnake was winding his way up the mountain in pursuit of a tiny baby rabbit. the little "cotton-tail" was running for the castle as fast as he could, intending to hide in a hole under the door-stone. but he never would have reached the door-stone alive, poor little trembling creature, if mr. dunlee and uncle james had not come up just in time to finish the cruel snake with cane and alpenstock. bunny got away safe, without even stopping to say, "thank you." the snake wore seven rattles, of which he was very proud; but eddo had them next day for a plaything, and made as much noise with them as ever the snake had done; though eddo never knew where they came from. it had been a delightful day, and when the friends all met again at table they kept saying, "didn't we have a good time?" it was to be noticed that barbara's "topknots" had disappeared; and i am glad to say that she never wore her lovely hair "pompy-doo" again. kyzie's face was alight. in passing the door of her mother's room she had heard her father say, laughing:-- "what, our katharine? why, how that would amuse mr. templeton!" kyzie had hurried away for fear of listening; but now she kept thinking:-- "papa laughed. he always laughs when he is going to say 'yes.' he'll talk to mr. templeton, and i just know i shall have the school isn't it splendid?" vi "grandma graymouse" "hoopty-doo!" shouted jimmy, alighting on the piazza on all fours. "a little girl like that keep school!" "well, she is going to," returned edith, looking up from the picture she was drawing of a cherub in the clouds, "she's going to; and mr. templeton says the castle cliff people are as pleased as they can be." "i heard what he said," struck in nate. "he said they jumped at it like a dolphin at a silver spoon." "he's always talking about that dolphin and that silver spoon," laughed edith. "if i knew how a dolphin looks, i'd draw one and give it to him just for fun. but mamma, you don't expect me to go to school to that little girl; now do you?" "certainly not, edith; oh, no." "must _i_ go to grandmother graymouse?" whined jimmy, "she's only my sister. and i came up here to play." "play all you like, my son. no one will ask you to go school." "but _i_ really want to go," said nate. "i wouldn't miss it for anything. a girl's school like that will be larks. only four hours anyway, two in the forenoon and two in the afternoon. time enough left for play." "h'm, if that's all, let's go," cried jimmy. "we can leave off any time we get tired of it." kyzie heard this as she was crossing the hall. "why, boys," she said, "you don't live in castle cliff! it's the castle cliff children i'm going to teach--the little ones, you know." "but papa said if you'd show me about my arithmetic--" began nate. "perhaps i don't know so much as you do, nate. but if you go you'll be good, won't you--you and jimmy both?" she spoke with some concern. "for if you're naughty, the other boys will think they can be naughty too; and i shan't know what in the world to do with them." "oh, we'll sit up as straight as ninepins; we'll show 'em how city boys behave," said nate, making a bow to kyzie. he could be a perfect little gentleman when he chose. he liked to tease jimmy, younger than himself, but had always been polite to kyzie. still kyzie did not altogether like the thought of having a boy of twelve for a pupil. what if he should laugh at her behind his slate? here barbara and lucy appeared upon the veranda, holding edith's new kitty between them. "we're going. we'll sit together and cut out paper dolls and eat figs under the seat," declared lucy, never doubting that this would be pleasing news to the young teacher. before kyzie had time to say, "why, lucy!" little eddo ran up the steps to ask in haste:-- "where's lucy going? i fink i'll go too." kyzie could bear no more. she ran and hid in the hammock and cried. they all thought she was to have a sort of play-school; did they? they were going just for fun. she must talk to mamma. mamma thought the school was foolish business; but mamma always knew what ought to be done, and how to help do it. or if mamma ever felt puzzled, there was papa to go to,--papa, who could not possibly make a mistake. between them they would see that their eldest daughter was treated fairly. monday morning came. kyzie's courage had revived. eddo would be kept at home; lucy and bab had been informed that they were not to cut paper dolls, though they might write on their slates. all that they thought of just now, the dear "little two," was of dressing to "look exactly alike." as bab had learned once for all that her hair would not curl, she spent half an hour that morning braiding her auntie's ringlets down her back, and tying the cue with a pink ribbon like her own. but for all the little barber could do the flaxen cue would not lie flat. it was an old story, but very provoking. "oh dear," wailed lucy, "'most school-time and my hair is all _over_ my head!" it did look wild. you could almost fancy it was angry because it had not been allowed to curl after its own graceful fashion. the "little two" started off in good season, hoping not to be seen by eddo; but he espied them from the window, and they heard him calling till his baby voice was lost in the distance:-- "you ought to not leave me! you ought to not leave m-e-e!" "he wants to go everywhere big people go." "yes," responded bab. "such babies think they are as old as anybody. oh, see that mexican dog, how straight his tail stands up!" "like your hair," sighed lucy. "if my hair would only be straight like that!" and neither of them smiled at this droll remark. "but there's one thing we must remember, bab. i'm glad i thought of it. we must say, 'miss' to kyzie." "miss what?" "miss dunlee. if we forget it, she'll feel dreadfully." and then they began to hum a tune and keep step to the music. they often did this as they walked. kyzie had gone on before them. her father was with her, but she had the key in her hand and opened the schoolhouse door. they walked in together, and kyzie locked the door behind them, for several children were waiting about who must not enter till the bell rang. the schoolhouse floor was very clean; the new teacher herself had swept it. on the walls were large wreaths of holly, which had been left over from last christmas, when the sunday-school had had a celebration here. at one end of the room was a raised platform with a large desk on it. on the wall over the desk was a motto made of red pepper berries, only the words were so close together that you could not make them out unless you knew beforehand what they were. "that means, 'christ is risen,'" explained kyzie. "it looks dreadfully, but they didn't want it taken down, i'll make another by and by." there were blackboards on three sides of the room; quite clean they looked now. the desks and benches were rude ones of black oak, and had been hacked by jack-knives. kyzie regretted this, but supposed the boys had not been taught any better. there was only one chair in the room, a large armed chair for the little teacher, and it stood solemnly on the platform before the desk. "you see, papa, i've brought a big blank-book to write the names in. the pen and inkstand belong here. ahem, i begin to tremble," said she, and looked at her mother's watch which she wore in her belt. "it's five minutes of nine." "oh, you'll do famously," said mr. dunlee. "and now, daughter, i'll wish you good-by and the very best luck in the world." "good-by, papa," said kyzie, and locked the door after him. "i wish i'd asked him to stay till i called them in and took their names. papa is so dignified that it would have been a great help. my, i feel as if i weren't more than six years old!" she walked the floor, watch in hand. "fifty seconds of nine." she went to the bell-rope and pulled with both hands. it was quite needless to use so much force. the bell was directly over her head; and instead of the "mellow lin-lan-lone" she expected, it made a din so tremendous that it almost seemed as if the roof were about to fall upon her. at the same time there was a scrambling and pounding at the door. the children were trying to get in. "oh, miserable me, i've locked them out!" thought the little teacher in dismay. she hastened to the door and opened it, and they rushed in with a shout. this was an odd beginning; but kyzie said not a word. she remembered that she was now miss dunlee, so she threw back her shoulders and looked her straightest and tallest, and as much as possible like miss prince, her favorite teacher. she had intended all along to imitate miss prince--whenever she could think of it. only fourteen years old! well, what of that? grandma parlin had been only fourteen when she taught _her_ first school. keep a brave heart, katharine dunlee! joe rolfe walked in as stiffly as a wooden soldier. behind him came a few boys and girls, some of them with their fingers in their mouths. there were twelve in all. the last ones to enter were nate and jimmy, followed by aunt lucy and her niece arm in arm. "i wonder if nate is laughing at me for locking the door?" thought kyzie, not daring to look at him, as she waved her hands and said in a loud voice to be heard above the noise:-- "all please be seated." being seated was a work of time; and what a din it made! the children wandered about, trying one bench after another to see which they liked best. "you would think they were getting settled for life," whispered nate to jimmy. the "little two" chose a place near the west window and began at once to write on their slates. "i'm scared of miss dunlee," wrote aunt lucy. "stop making me laugh," replied the niece. when at last everybody was "settled for life," kyzie did not know what to do next. "what would miss prince do? why she would read in the bible. i forgot that." the new teacher took her stand on the platform behind the desk, opened her bible, and read aloud the twenty-third psalm. her voice shook, partly from fright, partly from trying so hard not to laugh. but she did not even smile--far from it. nate and jimmy who were watching her could have told you that. if she had been at a funeral she could hardly have looked more solemn. jimmy touched nate's foot under the bench; nate gave jimmy a shove; bab gazed hard at lucy's flaxen cue; lucy gazed straight at her thumb. after the reading "miss dunlee" walked about with her blank-book in one hand and her pen in the other to take down the children's names. "i'm joseph rolfe; don't you remember me?" said the boy with red hair. "and this boy next seat is chicken little." "no, i ain't either, i'm henry small," corrected the little fellow, ready to cry. kyzie shook her finger at both the boys and resolved that "joe should stop calling names, and henry should stop being such a cry-baby." annie farrell was a dear little girl in a blue and white gingham gown, and the new teacher loved her at once. dorothy pratt was little more than a baby, and when spoken to she put her apron to her eyes and wanted to go home. "she can't go home," said her older sister janey, "mamma's cookin' for company!" kyzie patted the baby's tangled hair and sent janey to get her some water. "i'll go," spoke up jack whiting, aged seven. "janey isn't big enough. besides the pail leaks." "i'm so glad edith isn't here," thought kyzie, "or we should both get to giggling. there, it's time now to call them out to read. let me see, where is the best crack in the floor for them to stand on? why didn't i bring a quarter of a dollar with a hole in it for a medal? oh, the medal will be for the spelling-class; that was what grandma parlin said." it seemed a "ling-long" forenoon, and the little teacher rejoiced when eleven o'clock came. the family at home looked at her curiously, and uncle james asked outright, "tell us, grandmother graymouse, how do the scholars behave?" "well, i suppose they behaved as well as they knew how; but oh, it makes me so hungry!" she could not say whether she liked teaching or not. "wait till friday night, uncle james, and then i'll tell you." "well said, grandmother graymouse! you couldn't have made a wiser remark. we'll ask no further questions till friday night." but when friday night came they were all thinking of something else, something quite out of the common; and "grandmother graymouse" and her school were forgotten. vii the zebra kitten it began with zee. by this time her young mistress had become very much attached to her; and so indeed had all the "dunlee party." even mrs. dunlee petted the kitten and said she was the most graceful creature she had ever seen, except, perhaps, the dancing horse, thistleblow. eddo loved her because "she hadn't any pins in her feet" and did not resent his rough handling. the "little two" loved her because she allowed them to play all sorts of games with her. they could make believe she was very ill and tuck her up in bed, and she would swallow meekly such medicine as alum with salt and water without even a mew. "she is so amiable," said edith. "and then that wonderful tail of hers, mamma! 'twould bring, i don't know how much money, at a cat fair. it's a regular _prize_ tail, you see!" an animal like this merited extra care. she was not to be put off like an everyday cat with saucers of milk and scraps of meat; she must have the choicest bits from the table. "mrs. mcquilken says the best-fed cats make the best mousers," said edith. "is that so, miss edith? then the mice here at castle cliff haven't long to live!" laughed good-natured mr. templeton, as he handed zee's little mistress a pitcher of excellent cream. edith was very grateful to mrs. mcquilken for this remarkable kitten. she had taken much pains with her pencil drawing of a cherub in the clouds, intending it as a present for the eccentric old lady. "do you suppose she'll like it, mamma? you know she's so odd that one never can tell." mrs. dunlee was sure the picture would be appreciated. the cherub's sweet face looked like eddo's, and the clouds lay about him very softly, leaving bare his pretty dimpled feet, and hands, and arms, and neck. on friday afternoon edith took the picture in her hand and knocked with a beating heart at the door of number five. "mrs. me--mcquilken," said she, in a timid voice, on entering the room, "you're so fond of pictures that i thought i'd bring you one i drew myself. i'm afraid it's not so very, very good; but i hope you'll like it just a little." [illustration] mrs. mcquilken was much surprised as well as gratified; and actually there were tears in her eyes as she took the offering from edith's hand. she was a lonely old body, and never expected much attention from any one, especially from children. "why, how kind of you, my dear! it's a beauty!" she exclaimed, gazing at the cherub through her spectacles. she was a good judge of pictures. "that face is well drawn, and the clouds are fleecy. did you really do it your own self--and for me? thank you, dear child!" edith blushed with pleasure. she had by no means counted on such praise. "i'll always be kind to old people after this," she thought. "i believe they care more about it than you think they do." but here they were interrupted by the very loud mewing of a cat out of doors. they both ran downstairs to see what it meant. "i do hope and trust it isn't my zee," cried edith in alarm. but it was. they did not see her at first; she was in the back yard behind the hotel. it seems a pan of clams had been left standing on the back door-step; and zee must have been frolicking about the pan, never dreaming any live creature was in it, when one of the clams, attracted by her black waving tail, had caught the tip of the tail in his mouth and was holding it fast! this was pretty severe. being only an ignorant bivalve, the clam did not know that what he had in his mouth was a very precious article, the "prize tail" of a beautiful cat. but having once taken hold of it, the clam was too obstinate to let go. poor zee jumped up and down, and ran around in circles, mewing with all her might. what had happened she did not know; she only knew some heavy thing was dragging at her tail and pinching it fearfully. every one in the back of the house was busy; no one but eddo heard zee's cries. he ran to the maid to ask "what made the kitty sing so sorry?" whenever she mewed he called it singing. the maid looked out then and threw down her mixing-spoon for laughing. it was an odd sight to see a cat prancing about, waving her plume-like tail with a clam at the end of it! nancy was sorry for the kitten, but did not know how in the world to get off the clam. "take an axe! take a hatchet!" cried mrs. mcquilken. and without waiting for nancy she seized a hatchet herself, split the shell of the clam, and let poor kitty free. when kyzie got home from school, mrs. mcquilken had just mended zee's bleeding member with a piece of court-plaster. all the boarders were grouped about on the lawn and veranda talking it over. mrs. dunlee held in her lap a very forlorn and crumpled little bundle of kitty; and edith and eddo were crying as if their hearts would break. "that beautiful, beautiful tail!" sobbed edith. "don't be unhappy about it, darling," said aunt vi, "it will heal in time." "i know 't will heal, auntie; but what i'm thinking of is, won't it be stiff? aren't you afraid 'twill lose the--the--_expression of the wiggle?_" no one even smiled at the question; everybody tried to comfort edith. and right in the midst of this trying scene another event occurred of a different sort, but far more serious. it was little wonder that nobody once thought of saying to kyzie:-- "well, grandma graymouse, you promised to tell us to-night how you like your school." the school was quite forgotten, and so was the injured kitten. it happened in this way: as soon as the kitten had been placed in a basket of cotton and seemed tolerably comfortable, jimmy and "the little two" went along the road as they often did to watch for the stage. "the colonel" might be coming now at almost any time, to find the lost vein of the gold mine, and they wanted to see him first of any one. lucy had her papa's watch fastened to the waist of her dress, and took great pleasure in seeing the hands move. this was not the first time she had been allowed to carry the watch, and she was very proud because papa had just said, "see how i trust my little girl." jimmy had uncle james's spy-glass. "nate thinks the colonel won't come till to-morrow; but i expect him to-night. let's go farther up," said jimmy-boy. they all climbed a little way and stood on a rock gazing down toward the dusty road. they could see the roofs of several houses, and lucy asked why there was so much wire on them. "oh, that's to hold the chimneys on," was jimmy's reply. "how queer!" "not queer at all. i've seen lots of chimneys tied on that way." bab doubted this, but lucy was proud to think how much jimmy knew. "six minutes past five," said she, looking at the watch again. "it takes these little hands just as long to go round this little face as it takes a clock's hands to go round a clock's face. how funny!" "not funny at all," said jimmy. "they're made that way. but be careful, lucy dunlee, or you'll drop that watch. i shouldn't have thought papa would have let you bring it up here. did you tell him where we were going?" "no, i never," replied lucy with a sudden prick of conscience. "i didn't know we'd go so far. 'twas you that spoke and said we'd go higher up." "well, you'd better let me take it, lucy. i'm older than you are, and i've got a little pocket, too, just the right size to hold it." lucy hesitated, not wishing to part with the watch, and not at all sure that it would be safer with jimmy than with herself. he was not a famous care-taker. "i don't see why you want to get it away when papa lent it to me and it's fastened on so tight. how do i know papa would be willing?" as she spoke, however, jimmy was fingering the little chain to see if he could undo the clasp which held it to her dress. "there, i don't believe you could have got it off, lucy, you didn't know how." "why, i never tried--papa fastened it on himself--oh, jimmy-boy, you will be so careful of it, now won't you?" for the watch lay in his hand, and she did not know how to get it back again. when he had set his heart on anything lucy usually gave up. barbara looked on in disapproval as the big brother put the watch in his pocket. it had long been jimmy's unspoken wish to have a watch of his very own like nate pollard and various other boys. how rich and handsome the short gold chain looked! what a bright spot it made as it dangled down his new jacket. he gazed at it admiringly, while bab and lucy took turns in looking through the spy-glass. "the stage is coming," they cried. then they all started and ran down the mountain; but as the stage drove up to the hotel no colonel alighted, or at least, no one who looked like a colonel. jimmy was playing with the short gold chain which made a bright spot on his jacket. he meant to restore the watch to its owner at dinner-time; but it was early, he was not going in yet. and there was nate pollard throwing up his cap and looking ready for a frolic. "i stump you to catch me!" said nate. "poh, i can catch you and not half try." jimmy-boy was agile, nate rather heavily built and clumsy. but if jimmy had suspected what a foolhardy project was in nate's mind he would have held back from the race. as it was, they both planted themselves against a tree, shouted, "one, two, three!" and off they started. no one was watching, no one remembered afterward which way they were going. viii stealing a chimney the "knitting-woman" sat knitting in her chamber that looked up the mountain side, and thinking how the zebra kitten had suffered from her enemy, the clam. mrs. mcquilken's own cats were most of them asleep; the blind canary was eating her supper of hemp-seed; and the noisy magpie had run off to chat with the dog and hens. the room seemed remarkably quiet. mrs. mcquilken narrowed two stitches and glanced out of the window. "mercy upon us!" she exclaimed, though there was not a soul to hear her. "mercy upon us, what are those boyoes doing atop of that house?" in her astonishment she actually dropped her knitting-work on the floor and rushed out of the room crying, "fire!" though there was not a spark of fire to be seen. the "boyoes" were nate and jimmy. nate had said to jimmy just as they started on the race:-- "you won't dare follow where i lead;" and jimmy, stung by the defiant tone, had answered:-- "poh, yes, i will! who's afraid?" never once suspecting that nate was going to climb the ridge-pole of a house! the house was a small cabin painted green, but there were people living in it, and nothing could be ruder than to storm it in this way, as both boys knew. "why, nate why, _nate_, what are you doing?" "ho, needn't come if you're scared," retorted nate. "who said i was scared? but i'm not your 'caddy,' i won't go another step," gasped jimmy. still he did not stop climbing. hadn't nate "stumped" him; and hadn't he "taken the stump," agreeing to follow his lead? besides, nate was already on the roof, and it was necessary to catch him at once. jimmy reached the roof easily enough and darted toward nate with both arms out-stretched. but by that time nate had turned around and begun to slide down another ridge-pole, shouting:-- "here, my caddy, here i am; catch me, caddy!" it was most exasperating. jimmy saw that he had been outwitted. on the solid earth, running a fair race, the chances were that he could have beaten nate. but was this a fair race? "no, i'll leave it out to anybody if it's fair! nate pollard is the meanest boy in california," thought angry jimmy, as he started to follow his leader down the ridge-pole. at this moment something hit him just below the knee and held him fast. in his haste he had not stopped to notice that the chimney was of the very sort he had just described to lucy--built of tiles and held on to the roof by wires. he was caught in these wires; and whenever he tried to move he found he was actually pulling the chimney after him! nate, safely landed on the ground, called back to him in triumph:-- "hello, jimmy-cum-jim! hello, my caddy! where are you? why don't you come along?" jimmy was coming as fast as he could. he lay face downward, sliding along toward the edge of the roof, and carrying with him that most undesirable chimney! what would become of him if he should fall head-first with the chimney on his back? it was a rough scramble; but he managed to turn over before he reached the ground--so that he landed on his feet. the chimney landed near him, a wreck. jimmy was unhurt except for a few scratches. but oh, it was dreadful to hear himself laughed at, not only by that mischievous nate, but by half a dozen other boys and a few grown people, who had collected on the spot; among them the landlord and mrs. mcquilken. not that any one could be blamed for laughing. jimmy was a comical object. in carrying away a chimney which did not belong to him, he had of course torn his clothes frightfully and left big pieces sticking on the broken wires of the roof. a more "raggety" boy never was seen. "wouldn't he make a good scarecrow?" said the landlord, shaking his sides. "jimmum, chimney, and all!" it was necessary to tear his clothes still more in order to get them free from the tangle of wires. as the poor young culprit crept unwillingly back to the hotel all the cats, dogs, donkeys, and chickens in castle cliff seemed to combine in a chorus of mewing, barking, braying, and cackling to inform the whole world that here was a boy who had stolen a chimney! what wretched little beggar was this coming to the house? no one thought of its being jimmy dunlee. "we caught this young rogue stealing a chimney," said mr. templeton. it seemed funny at first, and the dunlees and sanfords and hales all laughed heartily, till it occurred to them that the dear child had been in actual danger; and then they drew long breaths and shuddered, thinking how he might have pitched headlong to the ground and been crushed by the weight of the chimney. "but my little son," asked mrs. dunlee presently, when the child was once more respectably clad, and was walking down to dinner between herself and aunt vi, "but my little son, what could have possessed you to climb a roof? was that a nice thing to do?" "no, mamma, of course not. but 'twas all nate pollard's fault. nate stumped me to it and i took the stump." "what _do_ you mean?" "why, he said, 'you won't dare follow me,' and i said, 'yes, i would.' and i never mistrusted where he was going. who'd have thought of his climbing top of a house?" "why, jamie dunlee, you did not follow nate without knowing where he was going?" "yes, mamma; if i _had_ known i wouldn't have followed. but you see he had stumped me and i'd taken the stump, so i was _obliged_ to go!" "obliged to go!" repeated aunt vi, laughing, "isn't that characteristic of jimmy?" the little fellow felt guiltier than ever. when aunt vi used that word of five syllables it always meant that people had done very wrong, so he thought. "jamie," said his mother very seriously, "i am surprised that you should have promised to follow nate without knowing where he was going! and you never even asked him where he was going! is that the way you play, you boys?" "no, mamma, it isn't. nate makes you play his way because he's the oldest. he's just as mean! but i couldn't back out after i was stumped." "oh, fie! backing out is exactly the thing to do when a boy is trying to lead you into mischief! but we'll talk more of this by and by." as they entered the dining-room, jimmy squared his shoulders and would not look toward nate's table; and nate, who had been severely reproved by his parents, never once raised his eyes from his plate. no one felt very happy. jimmy's new suit was ruined; and mr. dunlee had already learned that it would cost ten dollars to restore the tile chimney. nor was this all. while jimmy was trying to console himself with ice-cream he suddenly thought of his father's watch! it must have dropped out of his pocket when he slid down the roof; but where, oh, where was it now? was it still on the ground, or had some one picked it up? joe rolfe had been there, so had chicken little and a dozen others. he must go and look for that watch, he must go this minute. "mamma," he murmured, pushing aside his saucer of ice-cream, "may i--may i be excused?" there was no answer; his mother had not heard him. "mamma," in a louder tone, "oh, mamma!" "what is it, my son?" seeing by his unhappy face that something was wrong, she nodded permission for him to leave the table; and at the same time arose and followed him into the hall. "dear child, what is the matter?" "papa's watch," he moaned. "i'm afraid somebody will steal it." as mrs. dunlee knew nothing whatever about the watch this sounded very strange. she wondered if jimmy had really been hurt by his fall and was out of his head. "why, my precious little boy," said she, taking his hot hand in hers. "papa's watch is safe in his vest pocket. nobody is going to steal it." jimmy looked immensely relieved. "oh, has he got it back again? i'm so glad! where did he find it?" "darling," said mrs. dunlee, now really alarmed. "come upstairs with mamma. does your head ache? i think it will be best for you to go right to bed." but jimmy persisted in talking about the watch. "where did papa find it? he let lucy have it; don't you know?" "no, i did not know." "and i took it away from lucy. i was afraid she'd lose it. and then,--oh, dear, oh, dear,--then i went and lost it myself!" mrs. dunlee understood it all now. jimmy's head was clear enough; he knew perfectly well what he was talking about. the watch was gone, a very valuable one. search must be made for it at once. without waiting to speak to her husband, mrs. dunlee put on her hat and went with jimmy up the hill. he limped a little from the bruise of his fall and she steadied him with her arm as they walked. ix "chicken little" and joe the man and woman who lived in the green cottage had gone to a neighbor's to stay till their chimney should be fastened on again. there was no one in sight. "here's the place where i went up," said jimmy, laying his hand on one of the ridge-poles. "and here's the place where i came down," pointing to another ridge-pole. mrs. dunlee was stooping and looking around carefully. there was not a tuft of grass or a clump of weeds behind which even a small article could be hidden, much less a large bright object like a gold watch. she took a wooden pencil from her pocket and scraped the earth with it; but only disturbed a few ants and beetles. if the watch had ever been dropped here, it certainly was not here now. she and jimmy turned and walked home in the twilight,--or as mrs. mcquilken called it, "the dimmets," and poor jimmy drew a cloud of gloom about him like a cloak. they looked on the ground at every step of the way. "there's a piece of chaparral over there. did you go through that?" asked mrs. dunlee. "no, i never, i'm sure i never. i walked in the road right straight along. oh, mamma, if i've lost that watch 'twill break my heart. but i'll pay papa for it, you see if i don't! i'll save every penny i get and put it together and pay papa!" mrs. dunlee did not reply for a moment; she took time to reflect. jimmy was a dear boy, but very heedless. he had done wrong in the first place to take the watch from lucy without his father's permission. he must be taught to respect other people's property and other people's rights. he must learn to think, and learn to be careful. here was a chance for a lesson. "jamie," said she at last, "i am glad you wish to atone for the wrong you have done; it shows a proper spirit. i agree with you that if the watch isn't found you ought to give papa what you can toward paying for it. that is no more than fair." "i want to, mamma, i just want to!" burst forth jimmy. "i wish i was little like eddo, before 'twas wrong for me to be naughty." his mother took him in her arms and kissed him, for he was so tired and miserable that he could not keep the tears back another moment. friday night passed and most of saturday; and though diligent search was made, the watch was not found. "poor papa!" said kyzie. "he doesn't say much; but how sober he looks! grandma dunlee gave him that watch, jimmy, when he was a young man; and he did love it so!" "i know it. oh, dear, how can he stand it?" responded jimmy, who had been deeply touched from the first by his father's forbearance. "mr, pollard punished nate dreadfully, you know; but here's papa dunlee, why, he hasn't even scolded!" papa dunlee was a wise man. he saw that his little son was suffering enough already; he was learning a hard lesson, and perhaps would learn it all the better for being left alone with his own conscience. on sunday afternoon the boy was very disconsolate, and mr. dunlee patted him on the head, saying:-- "maybe we'll find the watch yet, my son. and anyway, i know jimmum didn't mean to lose it." then he sat down to read, and jimmy gazed at him reverently. the sunshine about his head seemed almost like a halo, and the boy thought of the angels, and wondered if they could possibly be any better than papa! "papa is the best man! never was cross in his life. i should be cross as fury! i should shake _my_ boy all to pieces if he should carry off my gold watch and drop it in the sand!" monday morning came and the missing article did not appear. everybody looked troubled. edith walked about, carrying her lame kitten in a basket, and saying:-- "zee is getting better all the while, but how can i be happy when papa's watch is lost!" "who knows but i shall be the one to find it?" returned katharine with a mysterious smile, as she was leaving the house. "you forgot to tell us, and we forgot to ask you, how do you like your school?" said aunt vi. "oh, ever so much, auntie. i'm making it just as old-fashioned as i can. i'm going to write grandma parlin this week and ask her if what i do is old-fashioned enough. good-by." jimmy was waiting for her down the path. "what makes you think you'll find the watch, kyzie?" "oh, i don't know, myself, what i meant. i just said it for fun." "well, do you think joe rolfe has got it, or chicken little? that's what i want to know." "hush, jimmy! papa wouldn't allow you to speak names in that way. somebody stole it, i suppose, but we don't know who it was." still kyzie's face wore a stern look that morning. it was a thing not to be spoken of, but she had resolved to "keep an eye" on two or three of the boys, and see if there was anything peculiar in their appearance. should one of them blush or turn pale when spoken to, it would be a sure sign of guilt, and she should go home and announce with triumph to her father:-- "papa, i've found out the thief!" the scholars all appeared pretty much as usual; raising their hands very often to ask, "may i speak?" or, "may i have a drink of water?" the little teacher had always wished they would not do so, but how could she help it? it was "an old-fashioned school," perhaps that was why it was so noisy. whatever went wrong, kyzie always said to herself, "oh, it's just an old-fashioned school." nate pollard and jimmy sat to-day as far apart as possible, almost turning their backs upon each other. at the bottom of his heart nate was truly ashamed of himself, though he would not have owned it. there were five new scholars, and katharine wrote down their names with much pride. best of all, some of the children really seemed to be trying to get their lessons. she had never known joe rolfe to study like this. "is it because he is guilty?" thought the little teacher watching him from under her eyebrows. she walked along toward him so softly that he did not hear her footsteps. "joseph!" she exclaimed, suddenly. her voice startled him; he looked up in surprise. "i'm glad to see you studying, joseph." did he blush? his face was of a brownish red hue at any time, being much tanned; she could not be quite sure of the blush. but why did he look so sober? children generally smile when they are praised. she had been to bab and lucy and said, "how still you are, darlings!" and they had seemed delighted. next she tried chicken little. he certainly jumped when she spoke his name close to his ear, "henry." now why should he jump and seem so confused unless he knew he had done something wrong? she forgot that he was a very timid boy. "henry, what is the matter with you?" she asked, frowning severely. she had never frowned on him before, for she liked the little fellow, and was trying her best to "make a man of him." "what is the matter, henry?" by this time he was scared nearly out of his wits, and stole a side glance at her to see if she had a switch in her hand. "don't whip me," he pleaded in a trembling voice. "don't whip me, teacher; and i'll give you f-i-v-e thousand dollars!" as he offered this modest sum to save himself from her wrath, the little teacher nearly laughed aloud, henry did not know it, however; her face was hidden behind a book. "what made you think, you silly boy, that i was going to punish you?" she asked as soon as she could find her voice. "have you done something wicked?" she spoke in a low tone for his ear alone, but he writhed under it as if it had been a blow. "i--don'--know." "he is the thief," thought kyzie. "oh, henry, if you've done something wrong you must know it. tell me what it was." "i--can't!" she put her lips nearer his ear. "was it you and joseph rolfe together? perhaps you _both_ did something wicked?" "i--don'--know." "was it last friday?" "i--don'--know!" "will you tell me after school?" henry was unable to answer. worn out with contending emotions he put his head down on the seat and cried. this did not seem like innocence. joseph rolfe was looking on from across the aisle, as if he wished very much to know what she and henry were talking about. "i'll make them tell me the whole story, the wicked boys," thought kyzie, indignantly. "but i can't hurry about it; i must be very careful. i think i'll wait till to-morrow." so she calmed herself and called out her classes. katharine was a "golden girl," and had a strong sense of justice. she would say nothing yet to her father, for the boys might possibly be innocent; still she went home that afternoon feeling that she had almost made a discovery. "good evening, grandmother graymouse," said uncle james, as they were all seated on the veranda after dinner, "do i understand that you are hunting for a watch?" "i'm hunting for it, oh, yes," replied kyzie, trying not to look too triumphant; "but i haven't found it yet. just wait till to-morrow, uncle james." "i don't believe we'll wait another minute!" declared mr. sanford, looking around with a roguish smile. "i see the dunlee people are all here, jimmum, lucy, and all. attention, my friends! the thief has been found!" "what thief?" asked mrs. hale and mrs. dunlee. "why, _the_ thief! the one we're looking for! the one that stole the watch!" "do you really mean it?" asked the ladies again. "did he bring it back?" "come and see," said uncle james, leading the way upstairs. "of course it's joe rolfe," thought kyzie. "i suppose he was frightened by what i said to henry small." "is the thief in your room, uncle james?" said jimmy. "why didn't you put him in jail?" "ah, jimmum, do you think all thieves ought to go to jail? i once knew a little boy who stole a chimney right off a house; yet i never heard a word said about putting _him_ in jail! "but here we are at the chamber door. stand behind me, all of you, in single file." x the thief found "i don't know so much as i thought i did," said kyzie to herself. "joe rolfe wouldn't be in this room." for uncle james was knocking at the door of number five. "walk right in," said mrs. mcquilken, coming to meet her guests. she had her knitting in one hand. "come in, all of you. why, mr. templeton, are you here too? you wouldn't have taken me into your house if you'd known i was a thief; now would you, mr. templeton?" and laughing, she put her right hand in her apron pocket and drew out a gold watch and chain. "if this belongs to anybody present, let him step up and claim his property." mr. dunlee came forward in amazement, while jimmy gave a little squeal of delight. "this is mine, thank you, madam," said mr. dunlee, looking at the watch closely. it seemed very much battered. "dreadfully smashed up, isn't it, sir? i can't tell you how sorry i am." mr. dunlee shook it, and held it to his ear. "oh, it won't go," said mrs. mcquilken. "the inside seems worse off, if anything, than the outside. 'twill have to have new works." "very likely. but it is so precious to me, madam, that even in this condition i'm glad to get it back again. pray, where has it been?" "right here in this room. didn't you understand me to confess to stealing it? why, you're shaking your head as if you doubted my word." they were all laughing now, and the old lady's eyes twinkled with fun. "well, if i didn't steal it myself, one of my family did, so it amounts to the same thing. come out here, you unprincipled girl, and beg the gentleman's pardon," she added, kneeling and dragging forth from under the bed a beautiful bird. it was her own magpie, chattering and scolding. "now tell the gentleman who stole his watch? speak up loud and clear!" the bird flapped her wings, and cawed out very crossly:-- "mag! mag! mag!" "hear her! hear that!" cried her mistress. "so you did steal it, mag--i'm glad to hear you tell the truth for once in your life." "did she take the watch? did she really and truly?" cried the children in chorus. "to be sure she did, the bad girl. she has done such things before, and i have always found her out; but this time she was too sly for me. she went and put it in my mending-basket; and who would have thought of looking for it there?" mag tipped her head to one side saucily, and kept muttering to herself. "well, i happened to go to the basket this afternoon and take up a pair of stockings to mend. they felt amazingly heavy. there was a hard wad in them, and i wondered what it could be. i put in my hand and pulled out the watch. yes, 'twas tucked right into the stockings." "i wonder we didn't any of us mistrust her at the time of it," said mr. templeton; "those magpies are dreadful thieves." "well, i suppose you thought 'twas my business to take care of her, and it was. i'm ashamed of myself," said mrs. mcquilken. "i was looking out of the window when the boys shied over that roof, but my mind wasn't on jewelry then. all i thought of was to run and call for help." yes, and it was her screams which had aroused the whole neighborhood. "and at that very time my mag was roaming at large. no doubt she saw the watch the moment it fell; and to use your expression, mr. templeton, she jumped at it like a dolphin at a silver spoon." the landlord laughed. "but the mystery is," said he, "how she got back to the house without being seen. she must have been pretty spry." "o mag, mag, to think i never once thought to look after you!" exclaimed mrs. mcquilken, penitently. the bird was scolding all the while, and running about with short, jerky movements, trying her best to get out of the room; but the door was closed. "pretty thing," said edith. "what a shame she should be a thief!" "she is pretty, now isn't she?" returned her mistress, fondly. "my husband brought her from china. you don't often see a chinese magpie, with blue plumage,--cobalt blue." "she's a perfect oddity," said mrs. hale. "see those two centre tail-feathers, so very long, barred with black and tipped with white." "yes," said mr. dunlee, "and the red bill and red legs. she's a brilliant creature, mrs. mcquilken." "well, you'll try to forgive her, won't you, sir? i mean to bring her up as well as i know how; but what are you going to do with a girl that can't sense the ten commandments?" "what indeed!" laughed mr. dunlee. "you see she's naturally light-fingered. yes, you are, mag, you needn't deny it. those red claws of yours are just pickers and stealers." here edith called attention to mag's nest on the wall, and they all admired it; and mrs. mcquilken said the canary liked to have mag near him at night, he was apt to be lonesome. "i wish you'd come in the daytime," said she. "come any and all of you, and hear him sing. he does sing so sweetly, poor blind thing; it's as good as a sermon to hear him." on leaving mrs. mcquilken the children went to aunt vi's room and jimmy kept repeating joyously:-- "we've found the watch, we've found the watch!" "yes," said aunt vi; "but what a wreck it is! your papa will have to spend a deal of money in repairing it." "too bad!" said lucy, "i 'spect 'twould cost him cheaper to buy a new one." "'twouldn't cost him so much; that's what you mean," corrected jimmy. "but i'm going to pay for mending it anyway." "how can you?" asked kyzie. "all you have is just your tin box with silver in it." "well, but don't i keep having presents? and can't i ask folks to stop giving me toys and books and give me money? and they'll do it every time." "but that would be begging." jimmy's face fell. yes, on the whole it did seem like begging. he had not thought of that. "why can't it ever snow in this country?" he exclaimed suddenly. "then i could shovel it. that's the way boys make money 'back east'" then after a pause he burst forth again, "or, i might pick berries--if there were any berries!" "it's not so very easy for little boys to earn money; is it, dear?" said aunt vi, putting her arm around her young nephew and drawing him toward her. "but when they've done wrong--you still think you did wrong, don't you, jimmy?" "he knows he did," broke in lucy. "my papa lent me the watch." "she wasn't talking to you," remonstrated jimmy. "yes, auntie, i did wrong; but lucy needn't twit me of it! i won't be _characteristic_ any more as long as i live." aunt vi smiled and patted his head lovingly. "no, dear, i think you'll be more thoughtful in future. but now let us try to think what can be done to pay for the watch." "i'll let him have some of the money i get for teaching. i always meant to," said kyzie. "very kind of you," returned aunt vi; "but we'll not take it if we can help it, will we, jimmy? i've been thinking it over for some days, children; and a little plan has occurred to me. would you like to know what it is?" they all looked interested. if aunt vi had a plan, it was sure to be worth hearing. "it is this: mightn't we get up some entertainments,--good ones that would be worth paying for?" "and sell the tickets? oh, auntie, that's just the thing! that's capital!" cried edith and kyzie. "you'd do it beautifully." "i'm not so sure of that, girls. but we might join together and act a little play that i've been writing; that is, we might try. what have you to say, jimmy? could you help?" "i don't know. i can't speak pieces worth a cent," replied the boy, writhing and shuffling his feet. "look here!" he said, brightening. "don't you want some nails driven? i can do that first rate." aunt vi laughed and said nails might be needed in putting up a staging, and she was sure that he could use a hammer better than she could. jimmy-boy, much gratified, struck an attitude, and pounding his left palm with his thumb, repeated the rhyme:-- "drive the nail straight, boys, hit it on the head; work with your might, boys, ere the day has fled." "there, he can speak, i knew he could speak!" cried lucy, in admiration. it was settled that they were all to meet wednesday morning, and their mother with them, to talk over the matter. "that's great," said jimmy. the watch was found and the world looked bright once more. true, he was deeply in debt; but with such a grand helper as aunt vi he was sure the debt would very soon be paid. xi begging pardon next morning jimmy walked to school with "the little two," whistling as he went. lucy had tortured her hair into a "cue," and "the happy wind upon her played, blowing the ringlet from the braid." "i've got the snarling-est, flying-est hair," scolded she. "i never'll braid it again as long as i live; so there!" "good!" cried jimmy. "it has looked like fury ever since we came up here." here nate overtook the children. he had not been very social since the accident, but seemed now to want to talk. "how do you do, jimmy?" he said: and jimmy responded, "how d'ye do yourself?" the little girls ran on in advance, and jimmy would have joined them, but nate said:--- "hold on! what's your hurry?" jimmy turned then and saw that nate was scowling and twisting his watch-chain. "i've got something to say to you--i mean papa wants me to say something." "oh ho!" "i don't see any need of it, but papa says i must." jimmy waited, curious to hear what was coming. "papa says i jollied you the other day." "what's that?" "why, fooled you." "so you did, nate pollard, and 'twas awful mean." [illustration] "it wasn't either. what made you climb that ridge-pole? you needn't have done it just because i did. but papa says i've got to--to--ask your pardon." "h'm! i should think you'd better! tore my clothes to pieces. smashed a gold watch." "you hadn't any business taking that watch." there was a pause. "look here, jimmy dunlee, why don't you speak?" "haven't anything to say." "can't you say, 'i forgive you'?" "of course i can't. you never asked me." "well, i ask you now. james s. dunlee, will--you--forgive me?" "h'm! i suppose i'll have to," replied jimmy, firing a pebble at nothing in particular. "i forgive you all right because we've found the watch. if we hadn't found it, i wouldn't! but don't you 'jolly' me again, nate pollard, or you'll catch it!" this did not sound very forgiving; but neither had nate's remark sounded very penitent. nate smiled good-naturedly and seemed satisfied. the fact was, he and jimmy were both of them trying, after the manner of boys, to hide their real feelings. nate knew that his conduct had been very shabby and contemptible, and he was ashamed of it, but did not like to say so. jimmy, for his part, was glad to make up, but did not wish to seem too glad. then they each tried to think of something else to say. they were fully agreed that they had talked long enough about their foolish quarrel and would never allude to it again. "glad that watch has come," said nate. "so am i. it has come, but it won't _go_," said jimmy. and they laughed as if this were a great joke. next jimmy inquired about "the colonel," and nate asked: "what colonel? oh, you mean the mining engineer. he'll be here next week with his men." by this time the boys were feeling so friendly that jimmy asked nate to go with him before school next morning to see the knitting-woman's pets and hear the blind canary sing. "do you suppose the magpie will be there?" returned nate. "i want to catch her some time and wring her old neck." "wish you would," said jimmy. "hello, there's chicken little crying again. he's more of a baby than our eddo." henry was crying now because dave blake had called him a coward. so very, very unjust! he stood near the schoolhouse door, wiping his eyes on his checked apron and saying:-- "i'll go tell the teacher, dave blake!" "well, go along and tell her then. fie, for shame!" henry, a feeble, petted child, was always falling into trouble and always threatening to tell the teacher. kyzie considered him very tiresome; but to-day when he came to her with his tale of woe, she listened patiently, because she had done him a wrong and wished to atone for it. she had "really and truly" suspected this simple child of a crime! he would not take so much as a pin without leave; neither would joseph rolfe. yet in her heart she had been accusing these innocent children of stealing her father's watch! "miserable me!" thought kyzie. "i must be very good to both of them now, to make up for my dreadful injustice!" she went to joe and sweetly offered to lend him her knife to whittle his lead pencil. he looked surprised. he did not know she had ever wronged him in her heart. she wiped henry's eyes on her own pocket handkerchief. "poor little cry-baby!" thought she. "i told my mother i would try to make a man of him, and now i mean to begin." she walked part of the way home with him that afternoon. he considered it a great honor. she looked like a little girl, but her wish to help the child made her feel quite grown-up and very wise. "henry," said she, "how nice you look when you are not crying. why, now you're smiling, and you look like a darling!" he laughed. "there! laugh again. i want to tell you something, henry. you'd be a great deal happier if you didn't cry so much; do you know it?" "well, miss dunlee,"--kyzie liked extremely to be called miss dunlee,--"well, miss dunlee, you see, the boys keep a-plaguing me. and when they plague me i have to cry." "oh, fie, don't you do it! if i were a little black-eyed boy about your age i'd laugh, and i'd say to those boys: 'you needn't try to plague me; you just can't do it. the more you try, the more i'll laugh.'" henry's eyes opened wide in surprise, and he laughed before he knew it. "there! that's the way, henry. if you do that they'll stop right off. there's no fun in plaguing a little boy that laughs." henry laughed again and threw back his shoulders. why, this was something new. this wasn't the way his mamma talked to him. she always said, "mamma's boy is sick and mustn't be plagued." "another thing," went on the little girl, pleased to see that her words had had some effect; "whatever else you may do, henry, _don't_ 'run and tell,' do you suppose george washington ever crept along to his teacher, rubbing his eyes this way on his jacket sleeve, and said 'miss dunlee--ah, the boys have been a-making fun of me--ah! they called me names, they did!'" henry dropped his chin into his neck. "never mind! you're a good little boy, after all. _you_ wouldn't steal anything, would you, henry?" this sudden question was naturally rather startling. he had no answer ready. "oh, i know you wouldn't! but sometimes little _birds_ steal. did you hear that a magpie stole a watch the other day?" "yes, i heard." "well, here's some candy for you, henry." the boy held out his hand eagerly, though looking rather bewildered. was the candy given because george washington didn't "run and tell"? or because magpies steal watches? "now, good night, henry, and don't forget what: i've been saying to you." henry walked on, feeling somewhat ashamed, but enjoying the candy nevertheless. if his pretty teacher didn't want him to tell tales, he wouldn't do it any more. he would act just like george washington; and then how would the big boys feel? he did not forget his resolve. next morning when dave blake ran out his tongue at him and joe rolfe said, "got any chickens to sell?" he laughed with all his might, just to see how it would seem. both the boys stared; they didn't understand it. "hello, chicken little, what's the matter with you?" henry could see the eyes of his young teacher twinkling from between the slats of the window-blinds, and he spoke up with a courage quite unheard-of:-- "nothing's the matter with _me!_" "hear that chicken," cried joe rolfe. "he's beginning to crow!" henry felt the tears starting; but as miss katharine at that moment opened the blind far enough to shake her finger at him privately he thought better of it, and faltered out:-- "see here, boys, i like to be called chicken little first rate! say it again. say it fi-ive thousand times if you want to!" "oh, you're too willing," said joe. "we'll try it some other time when you get over being so willing!" the bell rang; it sounded to henry like a peal of joy. he walked in in triumph, and as he passed by the little teacher she patted him on the head. she did not need to wipe his eyes with her handkerchief, there were no tears to be seen. he was not a brave boy yet by any means, but he had made a beginning; yes, that very morning he had made a beginning. "don't you tease henry small any more, i don't like it at all," said katharine to joseph rolfe. and then she slipped a paper of choice candy into joe's hand, charging him "not to eat it in school, now remember." it was a queer thing to do; but then this was a queer school; and besides kyzie had her own reasons for thinking she ought to be very kind to joe. "how silly i was to suspect those little boys! i'm afraid i never shall have much judgment. still, on the whole, i believe i'm doing pretty well," thought she, looking proudly at henry small's bright face, and remembering too how mr. pollard had told her that very morning that his son nate was learning more arithmetic at her little school than he had ever learned in the city schools. "oh, i'm so glad," mused the little teacher. mrs. dunlee thought kyzie did not get time enough for play. and just now the little girl was unusually busy. they were talking at home of the new entertainment to be given for jimmy-boy's benefit, and she was to act a part in it as well as edith. it was "jimmy's play," but jimmy was not to appear in it at all. kyzie and edith together were to print the tickets with a pen. the white pasteboard had been cut into strips for this purpose; but as it was not decided yet whether the play would be enacted on the tailings or in the schoolhouse, the young printers had got no farther than to print these words very neatly at the bottom of the tickets: "admit the bearer." xii "the little schoolma'am's earthquake" there were only ten days in which to prepare for the play called "granny's quilting." the children met wednesday morning in aunt vi's room, all but bab, who was off riding. so unfortunate, lucy thought; for how could any plans be made without bab? the play was very old-fashioned, requiring four people, all clad in the style of one hundred and fifty years ago. uncle james would wear a gray wig and "small clothes" and personate "grandsir whalen"; kyzie dunlee, grandsir's old wife, in white cap, "short gown," and petticoat, was to be "granny whalen" of course. a grandson and granddaughter were needed for this aged couple. edith would make a lovely granddaughter and pretend to spin flax. who would play the grandson and shell the corn? jimmy thought nate pollard was just the one, he was "so good at speaking pieces." they decided to ask nate at once, and have that matter settled. aunt vi showed a collection of articles which "the knitting-woman" had kindly offered for their use; a three-legged light stand, two fiddle-backed chairs, and a very old hour-glass. "i should call it a pair of glasses," said edith, as they watched the sand drip slowly from one glass into the other. aunt vi said it took exactly an hour for it to drain out, and our forefathers used to tell the time of day by hour-glasses before clocks were invented. "what _are_ forefathers?" lucy asked edith. "oh, adam and eve and all those old people," was the careless reply. "and didn't they have any clocks?" "of course not. what do you suppose?" there was a knock at the door. nate had come to find jimmy and go with him to see the blind canary. "we were just talking about you," said aunt vi. "are you willing to be katharine's grandson in the play?" nate replied laughing that he would do whatever was wanted of him, and he could send home and get some knee-buckles and a cocked hat. aunt vi said "capital!" and gave jimmy a look which said, "everything seems to be going on famously for our new play." jimmy led the way to mrs. mcquilken's room, his face wreathed with smiles. "ah, good morning; how do you all do?" said the lady, meeting the children with courteous smiles. "i see you've brought your kitten, edith." "yes, ma'am; will you please look at her wounds again?" "they are pretty well healed, dear. i've never felt much concerned about zee's wounds. she makes believe half of her sufferings for the sake of being petted." "does she, though? i'm so glad." "yes; that 'prize tail' will soon be waving as proudly as ever. but i suppose you all came to see the canary. mag, you naughty girl," she added, turning to the magpie, "hide under the bed. they didn't come to see you. here, job, you are the one that's wanted." little job, the canary, was standing on the rug. he came forward now to greet his visitors, putting out a foot to feel his way, like a blind man with a cane. then he began to sing joyously. "don't you call that good music?" asked his mistress, knitting as she spoke. "he came from germany; there's where you get the best singers. some canaries won't sing before company and some won't sing alone; they are fussy,--i call it _pernickitty_. why, i had one with a voice like a flute; but i happened to buy some new wall-paper, and she didn't like the looks of it, and after that she never would sing a note." "are you in earnest?" asked kyzie. "yes, it's a fact. but job never was pernickitty, bless his little heart!" she brought a tiny bell and let him take it in his claws. "now, i'll go out of the room, and you all keep still and see if he'll ring to call me back." she went, closing the door after her. no one spoke. job moved his head from side to side, and, apparently making up his little mind that he was all alone, he shook the bell peal after peal. presently his mistress appeared. "did you think mamma had gone and left you, job darling? mamma can't stay away from her baby." the cooing tone pleased the little creature, and he sang again even more sweetly than before. "let me show you another of his tricks. you see this little gun? well, when he fires it off that will be the end of poor job!" the gun was about two inches long and as large around as a lead pencil. inside was a tiny spring; and when job's claw touched the spring the gun went off with a loud report. job fell over at once as if shot and lay perfectly still and stiff on the rug. lucy screamed out:--- "oh, i'm so sorry he is dead!" but next moment he roused himself and sat up and shook his feathers as if he relished the joke. the children had a delightful half hour with the captain's widow and her pets; only lucy could not be satisfied because bab was away. "too bad you went off riding yesterday," said she as they sat next morning playing with their dolls. "you never saw that blind canary that shoots himself, and comes to life and rings a bell." "but can't i see him sometime, auntie lucy?" "you can, oh, yes, and i'll go with you. but, bab, you ought to have heard our talk about the play! kyzie is going to be as much as a hundred years old, and i guess uncle james will be a hundred and fifty. and they've got a pair of old glasses with sand inside--the same kind that adam and eve used to have." "why-ee! did adam and eve wear glasses? 'tisn't in their pictures; _i_ never saw 'em with glasses on!" "no, no, i don't mean glasses _wear_! i said glasses with sand inside; _that's_ what uncle james has got. runs out every hour. sits on the table." "oh, i know what you mean, auntie! you mean an _hour-glass!_ grandpa hale has one and i've seen lots of 'em in france." lucy felt humbled. though pretending to be bab's aunt, she often found that her little niece knew more than she knew herself! "seems queer about adam and eve," said she, hastening to change the subject; "who do you s'pose took care of 'em when they were little babies?" "why, auntie lucy, there wasn't ever any _babiness_ about adam and eve! don't you remember, they stayed just exactly as they were made!" "yes, so they did. i forgot." lucy had made another mistake. this was not like a "truly auntie"; still it did not matter so very much, for bab never laughed at her and they loved each other "dearilee." "you know a great many things, don't you, bab? and _i_ keep forgetting 'em." "oh, i know all about the world and the garden of eden; _that's_ easy enough," replied the wise niece. and then they went back to their dolls. half an hour later kyzie dunlee was standing in the schoolhouse door with a group of children about her when nate pollard appeared. as he looked at her he remembered "jimmy's play," and the parts they were both to take in it; and the thought of little kyzie as his poor old grandmother seemed so funny to nate that he began to laugh and called out, "good morning, grandmother!" he meant no harm; but kyzie thought him very disrespectful to accost her in that way before the children, and she tossed her head without answering him. nate was angry. how polite he had always been to her, never telling her what a queer school she kept! and now that he had consented to be her grandson in jimmy's play, just to please her and the rest of the family, it did seem as if she needn't put on airs in this way! "ahem!" said he; "did you hear about that dreadful earthquake in san diego?" there had been a very slight one, but he was trying to tease her. "no, oh, no!" she replied, throwing up both hands. "when was it?" "last night. i'm afraid of 'em myself, and if we get one here to-day you needn't be surprised to see me cut and run right out of the schoolhouse." the children looked at him in alarm. kyzie could not allow this. "oh, you wouldn't do that!" said she, with another toss of the head. "before i'd run away from an earthquake! besides, what good would it do?" by afternoon the news had spread about among the children that there was to be a terrible earthquake that day. they huddled together like frightened lambs. the little teacher, wishing to reassure them, planted herself against the wall, and made what edith would have called a "little preach." she pointed out of the window to the clear sky and said she "could not see the least sign of an earthquake." but even if one should come they need not be afraid, for their heavenly father would take care of them. "and you mustn't think for a moment of running away! no, children, be quiet! look at me, _i_ am quiet. i wouldn't run away if there were fifty earthquakes!" strange to say, she had hardly spoken these words when the house began to shake! they all knew too well what it meant, that frightful rocking and rumbling; the ground was opening under their feet! kyzie, though she may have feared it vaguely all along, was taken entirely by surprise, and did--what do you think? as quick as a flash, without waiting for a second thought, she turned and jumped out of the window! next moment, remembering the children, she screamed for them to follow her, and they poured out of the house, some by the window, some by the door, all shrieking like mad. it was a wild scene,--the frantic teacher, the terrified children,--and kyzie will never cease to blush every time she recalls it. for there was no earthquake after all! it was only the new "colonel" and his men blasting a rock in the mine! of course this escapade of the young teacher amused the people of castle cliff immensely. they called it "the little schoolma'am's earthquake"; and the little schoolma'am heard of it and almost wished it had been a real earthquake and had swallowed her up. "oh, papa dunlee! oh, mamma dunlee!" she cried, her cheeks crimson, her eyelids swollen from weeping. "i keep finding out that i'm not half so much of a girl as i thought i was! what does make me do such ridiculous things?" "you are only very young, you dear child," replied her parents. they pitied her sincerely and did their best to console her. but they were wise people, and perhaps they knew that their eldest daughter needed to be humbled just a little. it was hard, very hard, yet sometimes it is the hard things which do us most good. "o mamma, don't ask me to go down to dinner. i can't, i can't!" "no indeed, darling, your dinner shall be sent up to you. what would you like?" "no matter what, mamma--i don't care for eating. i can't ever hold up my head any more. and as for going into that school again, i never, never, never will do it." "i think you will, my daughter," said mr. dunlee, quietly. "i think you'll go back and live this down and 'twill soon be all forgotten." "o papa, do you really, really think 'twill ever be forgotten? do you think so, mamma? a silly, disgraceful, foolish, outrageous, abominable,--there, i can't find words bad enough!" as her parents were leaving the room she revived a little and added:-- "remember, mamma, just soup and chicken and celery. but a full saucer of ice-cream. i hope 'twill be vanilla." xiii nate's cave the little teacher went back to her school the very next day. it was a hard thing, but she knew her parents desired it. her proud head was lowered; she could not meet the eyes of the children, who seemed to be trying their best not to laugh. at last she spoke:-- "i got frightened yesterday. i was not very brave; now was i? hark! the people in the mine are blasting rocks again, but we won't run away, will we?" they laughed, and she tried to laugh, too. then she called the classes into the floor; and no more did she ever say to the scholars about the earthquake. she helped nate in his arithmetic, and he treated her like a queen. he was coming to aunt vi's room that evening to show his knee-buckles and cocked hat and find out just what he was to do on the stage. kyzie wanted to see the cocked hat and felt interested in her own white cap which mrs. mcquilken was making. it was a good thing for katharine that she had "jimmy's play" to think of just now. it helped her through that long forenoon. after this the forenoons did not drag; school went on as usual, and kyzie was glad she had had the courage to go back and "live down" her foolish behavior. when they met in aunt vi's room that evening it was decided not to have "jimmy's play" on the tailings, for that was a place free to all. people would not buy tickets for an entertainment out of doors. "my tent is the thing," said uncle james, and so they all thought it was a large white one, and the children agreed to decorate it with evergreens. it would hold all the people who were likely to come and many more. during the week uncle james set up the tent not far from the hotel and in one corner of it built a staging. he did not mind taking trouble for his beloved namesake, james sanford dunlee. the stage was made to look like a room in an old-fashioned house. it had a make-believe door and window and a make-believe fireplace with andirons and wood and shovel and tongs. there was a rag rug on the floor, and on the three-legged stand stood the hour-glass with candles in iron candlesticks. the fiddle-backed chairs were there and two _hard_ "easy-chairs" and an old wooden "settle." lucy and bab said it looked "like somebody's house," and they wanted to go and live in it. on the saturday afternoon appointed the play had been well learned by the four actors. everything being ready, this cosy little sitting-room was now shut off from view by a calico curtain which was stretched across the stage by long strings run through brass rings. the play would begin at half-past two. jimmy was dressed neatly in his very best clothes. he had a roll of paper and a pencil in one of his pockets and during the play he meant to add up the number of people present and find out how much money had been taken. "but jimmy-boy, it won't be very much," said edith. "this is an empty town, and so queer too. something may happen at the last minute that will spoil the whole thing." she was right. something did happen which no one could have foreseen. for an "empty" town castle cliff was famous for events. as jimmy left the hotel just after luncheon he overtook nate pollard and joe rolfe standing near a big sand bank, talking together earnestly. "come on, jimmum," said nate; "we've got a spade for you. we're going to dig a cave in the side of this bank." "what's the use of a cave?" "why, for one thing, we can run into it in time of an earthquake." "that's so," said jimmy. "or we could stay in and be cave-dwellers." but as he took up the spade he chanced to look down at his new clothes. he had spoiled one nice suit already and had promised his mother he would be more careful of this one. "wait till i put on my old clothes, will you?" nate laughed and snapped his fingers. "we're in a hurry. i've got to be in the tent in half an hour. go along, you little dude! we'll dig the cave without you." the laugh cut jimmy to the heart. and he had been learning to like nate so well. a dude? not he! besides, what harm would dry sand do? it's "clean dirt." then all in a minute he thought of that wild journey on the roof. it had made a deeper impression upon him than any other event of his life. "poh! am i going to dig dirt in my best clothes just because nate pollard laughs at me? i don't 'take stumps' any more; there's no sense in it, so there!" and off he started, afraid to linger lest he should fall into temptation. jimmy might be heedless, no doubt he often was; but when he really stopped to think, he always respected his mother's wishes and always kept his word to her. this was the trait in jimmy which marked him off as a highly bred little fellow. for let me tell you, boys, respect for your elders is the first point of high breeding all the world over. jimmy sauntered on slowly toward the door of the tent. there were a great many benches inside, but it was not time yet for the audience to arrive. uncle james and katharine and edith were on the stage, and aunt vi was adding a few touches to edith's dress. "o dear," said grandmamma graymouse, "i hope i shan't forget my part. tell me, uncle james, do i look old enough?" "you look too old to be alive," he answered; "fifty years older than i do, certainly! mrs. mehitable whalen, are you my wife or my very great grandmamma?" "but where's nate pollard?" aunt vi asked. "i told him to come early to rehearse." "he said he'd be here in half an hour," said jimmy. "he's off playing." "i hope i shall not have to punish my young grandson," said uncle james, solemnly, as he began to peel a sycamore switch. uncle james's name was now "ichabod whalen," and he and "mehitable whalen," his wife, were such droll objects in their old-fashioned clothes that they could not look at each other without laughing. their absent grandson, "ezekiel whalen" (or nate pollard), was a fine specimen of a boy of ancient times, and aunt vi had been much pleased with the way in which he acted his part. but where was he? aunt vi and the grandparents grew impatient. it was now half-past two; people were flocking into the tent; but the curtain could not rise, for nothing was yet to be seen of young master "ezekiel whalen" and his small clothes and his cocked hat. the house was pretty well filled; really there were far more people than had been expected, jimmy, with pencil and paper in hand, was figuring up the grown people and children, and multiplying these numbers by twenty-five and by fifteen. when he found that the sum amounted to nearly nine dollars he almost whistled for joy. but all this while the audience was waiting. people looked around in surprise; the dunlee family grew more and more anxious. aunt lucy pinched bab and bab pinched aunt lucy. suddenly there were loud voices at the entrance of the tent. the tent curtain was pushed aside violently, and mr. templeton and mr. rolfe rushed in exclaiming:-- "two boys lost! all hands to the rescue!" the people were on their feet in a moment and there was a grand rush for the outside. the panic, so it was said afterward, was about equal to "the little schoolma'am's earthquake." xiv jimmy's good luck "it's the pollard and rolfe boys," explained mr. templeton. "ho! i know where _they_ are!" cried jimmy, "they're all right. they're only digging a cave in the side of a sand-bank." "show us where! run as fast as you can!" exclaimed mr. rolfe and mr. pollard. mr. pollard had been hunting for the last half-hour. he knew nate was deeply interested in "jimmy's play" and would not have kept away from the tent unless something unusual had happened. jimmy ran, followed by several men who could not possibly keep up with him. but when they all reached the sand-bank, where were the "cave-dwellers"? they had burrowed in the sand till completely out of sight! "hello! where are you"? screamed jimmy. there was no answer. in enlarging the cave they had loosened the very dry earth, and thus caused the roof over their heads to fall in upon them, actually burying them as far as their arm-pits! they tried to scream, but their muffled voices could not be heard. the "cave" looked like a great pile of sand and nothing more. nobody would have dreamed that there was any one inside it if it had not been for jimmy's story. "courage, boys, we're after you, we'll soon have you out!" said the men cheerily; though how could they tell whether the boys heard or not? indeed, how did they know the boys were still alive? two men went for shovels. the other men, not waiting for them to come back thrust their arms into the bank and scooped out the sand with their hands. the sand was loose and they worked very fast. before the shovels arrived a moan was heard. at any rate one of the boys was alive. and before long they had unearthed both the young prisoners and dragged them out of the cave. not a minute too soon, joe gasped for breath and looked wildly about; but nate lay perfectly still; it could hardly be seen at first that he breathed. his father and mother, the doctor and plenty of other people were ready and eager to help; but it was some time before he showed signs of life. when at last he opened his eyes the joy of his parents was something touching to witness. jimmy, who had been standing about with the other children, watching and waiting, caught his mother by the sleeve and whispered:-- "i should have been in there too, mamma, if it hadn't been for you!" "what do you mean, my son? in that cave? i never knew the boys were trying to make a cave. i did not forbid your digging in the sand, did i?" "no, mamma; but i knew you wouldn't want me to do it in these clothes--after all my actions! and i had promised to be more careful." mrs. dunlee smiled, but there were tears in her eyes. "how glad i am that my little boy respected his mother's wishes," said she, stooping to kiss his earnest face. she dared not think what might have happened if he had disregarded her wishes! it was a time of rejoicing. mr. templeton ordered out the brass band and the hindoo tam tam. the horse thistleblow seemed to think he must be wanted too, and came and danced in circles before the groups of happy people. "i could believe i was in some foreign country," said mrs. mcquilken, smiling under her east indian puggaree, as she had not been seen to smile before, and dropping a kiss on the cheek of her favorite edith. after dinner the dunlees met in aunt vi's room, and aunt vi observed that mrs. dunlee kept jimmy close by her side, looking at him in the way mothers look at good little sons, her eyes shining with happy love and pride. they were talking over "jimmy's play," which had not been played. the money must all be given back to the people who had sat and looked so long at that calico curtain. "we'll try 'granny's quilting' again next saturday," said aunt vi. they did try it again. there were no caves to dig this time, and young master "ezekiel whalen" was on the stage promptly at half-past one, eager to show his grandparents that he was a boy to be relied upon after all. the play was a remarkable success. all the "summer boarders and campers" came to it, and everybody said:-- "oh, do give us some more entertainments, mrs. sanford! let us have one every saturday." aunt vi, being the kindest soul in the world, promised to do what she could. she gave the play of the "pied piper of hamelin," with children for rats; and eddo was dressed as a mouse, and squealed so perfectly that edith's cat could hardly be restrained from rushing headlong upon the stage. later there were tableaux. edith wore red, white, and blue and was the goddess of liberty. jimmy was a cowboy with cartridge-belt and pistols. lucy and barbara were night and morning, with stars on their heads. mr. sanford was uncle jonathan. mr. hale was an indian chief. jimmy's debts were more than paid, and a happier boy was not to be found in the state of california. after this there were plenty of free entertainments on the tailings. at one of these, when the audience was watching a flight of rockets, katharine heard two women not far away talking together. one of them asked:-- "where's that little dunlee girl, the one that keeps the play-school?" "over there in the corner," replied the other, "she hasn't any hat on. she's sitting beside the girl with a cat in her lap." "oh, is that the one? so young as that? well, she's a good girl, yes, she is. i guess she _is_ a good girl," said the first speaker heartily. "my little henry thinks there's nothing like her. he never learned much of anything till he went to that play-school. he never behaved so well as he does now, never gave me so little trouble at home. she's a _good_ girl." a world of comfort fell on kyzie. young as she was and full of faults, she had really done a wee bit of good. "and they didn't say a word about my jumping out of the window," thought she, with deep satisfaction. "wait till i grow up, just wait till i grow up, and as true as i live i'll be something and do something in this world!" she did not say this aloud, you may be sure; but there was a look on her face of high resolve. uncle james had often said to aunt vi:-- "our katharine is very much in earnest. i know you agree with me that "little prudy's" eldest daughter is a golden girl!" the "play-school" closed a few days later, and it was henry small who received the medal for good spelling. he wasn't so much of a cry-baby nowadays and the boys had stopped calling him "chicken little." the dunlee party went home the last week in august, declaring they had had delightful times at castle cliff. "only i never went down that mine in a bucket," said lucy. "how could i when the men were blowing up rocks just like an earthquake?" "and i wanted to wait till they found that vein," said jimmy. a few days before they left, uncle james went hunting and shot a deer. i wish there were space to tell of the barbecue to which all the neighbors were invited a little later. as it is, my young readers are not likely to hear any more of the adventures of the "bonnie dunlees," either at home or abroad. but during their stay in the mountains that summer lucy begged aunt vi to write some stories, with the little friends, bab and lucy, for the heroines. "some 'once-upon-a-time stories,' auntie vi. make believe we two girls go all about among the fairies, just as alice did in wonderland; only there are two of us together, and we shall have a better time!" "oh, fie! how could i take real live little girls into the kingdom of the elves and gnomes and pixies? i shouldn't know how!" but she was so obliging as to try. the week before they left for home she had completed a book of "once-upon-a-time stories," which she read aloud to all the children as they clustered around her in the "air-castle." she called it "lucy in fairyland," though she meant bab just as much as lucy. if the little public would like to see this book it may be offered them by and by; together with the comments which were made upon each story by the whole dunlee family,--jimmy, wee lucy, and all. [illustration: little prudy series specimen illustration from "sister susie"] [illustration: little prudy series specimen illustration from "dotty dimple"] [illustration: little prudy series specimen illustration from "cousin grace"] [illustration: little prudy's children series specimen illustration from "wee lucy's secret"] [transcriber's note: for this online edition i have added a table of contents and have indicated section breaks with three asterisks. also i have made the following spelling changes: chapter ii: "shapened like a shephard's" to "sharpened like a shepherd's"; "course in leaves" to "coarse in leaves". also the sentence beginning "this is a retrospective day for your soul" is incomplete. chapter iv: "agrandizement" to "aggrandizement"; "repoductions" to "reproductions". chapter vi: "sitting ud" to "sitting up". chapter vii: "chapter v" to "chapter vii". a few toasts: "murmer" to "murmur". three great commanders: "owen meridith" to "owen meredith". entertainment suggestion: "calender" to "calendar". characters in finger nails: "strickly" to "strictly". strange wills: "there have been many" to "there have not been many", and "maccaig" to maccraig". something to remember: "spender percival" to "spencer perceval".] cupology. how to be entertaining. interesting facts for both young and old. toasts -- gems. how to tell age. published by the author, clara. cincinnati, ohio: printed by frank h. vehr. . entered according to act of congress in the year , by clara, in the office of the librarian of congress, at washington. table of contents inspired cup-reading. chapter i. helpful hints for friendly social gatherings. chapter ii. one year later. chapter iii. the woman's era of national import. chapter iv. mystical cup. chapter v. the acquisitive adept. chapter vi. three coquettes. chapter vii. superstition. cupology popular toasts three great commanders a hint on entertaining look at your cup entertainment suggestion have a peanut what the eyes tell revealed by the thumb characters in finger nails beauty's seven nurses to discover a woman's age how he may be won dew drops birth stones for luck kruger's unlucky diamond strange wills laughagraphs the man who can make us laugh queer blunders a mysterious telegram fortune dead easy a bad spell of weather for an evening game something to remember the four leaved shamrock inspired cup-reading. not mere fortune telling. [_from sun-flower_.] prophecy. "prophecy is the science of being able to sense the casual influences or vibrations governing the person or subject on which the consciousness is centered, and knowing the purport or meaning of these influences. to the non-sensitive this has no existence, and he must judge the future by surface effects entirely--his knowledge of human character or of the subject to which he is devoted. a feeling of peace or quietude; that which disturbs or irritates; animates or enervates; engenders joy or gloom; that which attracts or repels without visible effects, are some of the sensations experienced and have their specific meanings, which must be grouped, counter-effects considered, and conclusions drawn from this to make the forecast or outline of the subject's future. to avert mistakes, however, the reader of destinies must have sufficient self-knowledge to distinguish his own influences or vibrations from those sensed in others and not combine them as coming from one source. every individual is governed by this 'cause upon him,' and if he studies himself he can become his own prophet." [illustration: horseshoe] the four-leaf clover. ella higginson. i know a place where the sun is like gold, and the cherry blooms burst with snow, and down underneath is the loveliest nook, where the four-leaf clovers grow. one leaf is for hope, and one is faith, and one is for love, you know; and god put another one in for luck-- if you search you will find where they grow. but you must have hope and you must have faith. you must love and be strong, and so, if you work, if you wait, you will find the place where the four-leaf clovers grow. omens in the tea cups. when, after making the tea, you forget to replace the lid of the teapot, expect a caller to drop in and share with you the cup that cheers. sensing of atmospheres. how to be entertaining. reading from tea or coffee cups. as delineated by a cincinnati lady on different occasions, for the pleasure of guests, both young and old, who became desirous of acquiring this fine art, this character reading gift. [illustration: calligraphy flourish ] the grace we say to god. [jean ingelow.] so take joy home, and make a place in thy great heart for her, and give her time to grow and cherish her; then will she come and oft will sing to thee when thou art working in the furrows; ay, or weeding in the sacred hour of dawn. it is a comely fashion to be glad-- joy is the grace we say to god. love's secrets read. these revelations are honestly dedicated to bright folks, who study human needs, and to such as possess and inspire a bit of high-soul, creative imagination, as well as to humanitarians, who become capable of knowing, advising and showing the better sides of life by lofty mental concentration, which ever lifts the thinker into the special soul atmosphere of each separate mentality, by the power of attraction and repulsion, verily, by the cosmic law of life, gaining thereby deeper insight into what seemeth best to think and to do for self and for others. believing that these, my life-long experiences, will prove both instructive and highly entertaining, i am happy to send forth these _talismanic_ best thoughts, which may indeed become noble and satisfying possessions to many active and wisely applying minds, for the healthful enjoyment of their friends and associates. [illustration: fan] chapter i. helpful hints for friendly social gatherings. first cup turned was by a tall, handsome girl, who, herself, possesses keen imagination with true power for character-reading, and with love for the study of the occult sciences. in her very first turn, the sky with misty scenes and an _airship_ were traced well up in the lines surrounding the lady. high, sailing hopes, said the reader. you are gifted beyond the ordinary. you love books, study and art; do not yet care for any domestic duties. you are in cloud-lands. in her second toss, the reading was as follows: you are a little more practical. here is formed a dusting-brush, also a _kitchen_ and yard with a happy family of _chickens_, meaning cares and pets; also a _horse_ and _sleigh_. you love luxuries. you have traveled over land and seas. the _ferry-boat_ is here. i read now in your third, the certainty, though not fully, noting some of the minor events. everything has changed from your present thinking. you have climbed the ladder to some public recognition by the influence of friends. you have yet much to achieve--will become a real benefactress. so i read by the people before you. the two _stars_ yet beyond, and the _sword_ which belongs to your family, represent some hero in wars yet to be. the national bird, either an _eagle_ or _turkey_, promises good results. the trials of others will fall upon you, all through life. your views here are full of the different objects. a tall visitor will give you a surprise, attended by coming pleasure, and a new friend; also a _foe_--a _spider_. you have been disappointed in three different forms, one is yet to entail a financial loss_--fish_, you see, have their heads and tails cut off; and the _rings_ are broken for some past and present enterprise. you are learning mental philosophy, also, from a male relative to whom you are very dear. how truly and wonderfully you have read! i have also gained an idea how to trace and to hold the mind in other special desires. thanks to you for this lesson. * * * the next was a dainty, little, self-conscious lady, who is desirous of some special, social accomplishment, aside from her sisters. she is very cunning. see the little head of the _fox_ near her, though vexations are with her now, yet the three similar little straight forms, or lines, are realizations, as in this cup, of some pleasant event. the _road_ here in view, a short and agreeable journey, upon which you meet a lady friend who is to visit you soon. these upper _dots_ are letters and small packages near at hand, with two little _hearts_--love secrets. you will, said the reader, receive many. one, that is in present expectation, containing an invitation affording pleasure. the _flowers_ bespeak it, being near the edge of the cup, with the formation of letters. h will be the initial of one of the writers. now, you have a _little man_ who is to be cut off from some desire--a broken _road_ is near him--with a period of indecision and anxiety. two male forms are holding his desires by their neglect, not by malice. the wish is in their power, you see, yet they are looking away from it. your third is with tears for a friend, though no death symbol is near. ah, here it is! you are to wed with a fair gentleman, not your slight form--first love. you will be fairly happy. confusion is shown by the various objects in crooked and wavy lines, with those tiny _crosses_, many little cares, and yet the _tree_ shades the _house_. your _castle_ on the highway with the little child's _crib_ and the _parrot_, an imitative, impudent inmate of the home. now, let your own fancy roam over these formations. set them in your mind. i have reserved this gift of love for the last sitting. do you see the _jeweled ring_ with the light flashing for you? that will come when years have flown. you will be a widow. that event will benefit your entire family, as the _wavy lines_ and _tears_ indicate, so do not lose heart. this late blessing is enough to inspire courage and patience. yes, it is for your household. do you see the broad sky-scenes? that is good. * * * next: _a hay-mound_ and a _field_. you love rural life, young man. i do, said he, as a retreat and recreation. this _square_ promises you a business house in a commercial city. see the stacks of letters and the figures , , ,--and the many heads of men in calculation. now you stand by an open grave. your dearest friend has died. the dark cloak enfolds your form and your wish--_the circle_-- is in doubt. _spears_ and _weeds_ are near it, also a crude _cross_. a time of dissatisfaction will come to you before three years have passed, yet there are promises beyond. cast, now, for the better times for certainty. * * * third: _friends, horses, dogs, birds, trees_. in touch with life's blessings you possess a kind, social nature-- a _stream_ of clear water. health and friends in plenty, great activity. you are to rise above many ills. a broken _bridge_ is at the far end of this _road_, but your face is turned away, in this you are spared an evil, be wise. the south will offer you last and final protection. see, the light is shading in that direction. an _old lady_ will be your faithful friend. there will be also a trusty _colored man_--see how he stands in _line?_ your last years will be in rural life, with a family and an income with fair surroundings. the space is clear. you see light is over your last scenes. see the young girl--no doubt your daughter--under the beautiful fruit trees? orange groves in the sunny south, said he, smiling. most important for yon appears a distant battle-scene with deep sorrows. some great personal honors in life for a son. yes, an american battle scene with the _eagle_ distant, yet sure to gain the day. some national crisis. next reading. _key_ to the situation. see, it is within a short time, only a little way from the edge of the cup. good, said the recipient, i know what that is now, am glad of it. well, you are, however, to weep over the matter soon, as speaking to some friend of this affair. there is much to it. see the _cross_ and _tears_, as holding up the cup. yet you would not now dream that there are complications in this affair. three factions, yet all in positive expectations, though fight is coming. see the little _dog_, how angry, and the _cat_, with her back up, and the other animal with a spring? why here. can't you see it! of course it's not quite as distinct as a real dog and cat fight. one of the animals is retreating from the scene in fear. your faces are all turned in the same direction, you know each other. well, the _crescent_ is in the lower part of the cup. some later news--also the fine _horse_, a _friend_ with some testimonial of appreciation. a _wreath_ and victory. here are several _letters, _one containing news of death. the _coffin_ is here for the little child. many tears are shed by two women--each looks into the grave. ah, the spite lines! see them, there are little jealousies, too. we all have these to content with, said the reader, especially if we ever rise above the common level of life and as independent thinkers. an illness of importance is now developing an event long ago foretold to your family. a fine steed comes from another city through a church-yard, much resembling trinity e of new york city. some _letters_ follow--see the succession of _dots_ and _squares. houses_ of _smoke, news_ and _trailing objects_, representing deep-laid intrigues. now you are aboard a steamer on the broad ocean. a tall, military looking man is with you, also a young man and woman. something of importance has taken place in your national life and in your financial position, as well as in political and church affairs. see the crowing _cock_ and the _stork_, a change that is to play its part for the tall man. _flags_ are waving. you will all return to a new life in america. the surprising change is for a public man. next reading. an enemy is for you, sir, in your present conditions of duty. some spoil is here. a _ditch_, a _wasp_, and _serpents_ at the top with tongues out. if you are now in politics or litigation defeats await you, for the _briars_ are thick and a blind man at a desk holds some document. you appear to be very expectant, though fearing something. a woman is also against you. see, her head is up. she is fair in appearance and influential, yet false. some men are back of her acts. dark complexioned people are, at present, your better allies and friends. some doctor stands by your side, see his medicine chest, he is of fine mind. a straight path lies between you, though some road is cut in two; you are to be disappointed in an enterprise. _wheels _are broken. this is connected with cars, engines and automobiles--have care. your mind is often too ready to speed forward. things are so confusing. now concentrate on the future. you are enmeshed by others. your social affairs, too, are meddled with by your family and pseudo friends. see the quacking _duck_ and the distant _goose_, with dots, letters, etc. see the heads put together, with mixture of objects before them. no symbol of peace is in this realm, no light nor clean spots are as yet seen as results to you. ah! here. it is a _long road_ into new conditions. anger and loss cause you to turn away from the dark and vexing things. one true friend will follow. see the _straight form_ and the _dog_ and _wheat_--that signifies great good as in clean sheaves. that will be your best destiny in a new life-deal--far westward--some treasure in minerals, too. see the rocks shining forth. * * * next: the _monkey_ and the _skunk_! for a moment the hostess and the reader exchanged words. "i wonder if there is such an object now in our midst! i am full of laugh, though not in the belief of such a fact. oh, it is too amusing how these objects will form. i wish some one else to see this strange cup." this gentleman has need to be most cautious in some of his undertakings. do not deal with uncertain characters--see the _monkey_ and the _cat-tiger_ or _skunk_ looking object--lest some vile scandal becomes your lot. _cross-roads, hollows_, and _eels_--slippery things--are near your _present wishes_. the _keys, circles, anchor, squares, links_--these represent realizations. yours are in other lines, yet a _bell_ is traced near you. a belated wish lies under cover. it is in a field not yet in your thoughts, though an _anchor_, a human form and a crooked, broken path lie yet beyond that. third toss. now is revealed some disaster to friends, confusion and a large family _whirlwind_, also, some obstinate man--see the _rickety team_ with the _mule_ in the lead, as running away--a woman in black as the outcome. see how she climbs the steep, jagged hill. your face is turning towards her in mutual friendship. the _moon_ shines on the top of the mountain--your destination. you will no doubt wed with the widow--this woman in black. some of the first lines hit very close to facts, said he. i know it, said the lady, and there is very much to read. i do not know all that may transpire before this occurs, yet you will have a numerous progeny--many relatives. see the people and the letters from the different localities, again true. you will live to advanced age--see the grand _old tree_. you will ever have care over others. the man-mule is to meet his natural death. his respected widow and household are to become your high possessions. the mules and the whole team? said he. thank you, there is happiness in store. no doubt as elevated step-father to this numerous family. you are a genius in this art reading, so fanciful. * * * next expectant:--a civil engineer with fondness for travel and _inventions_. perhaps you will also write books on some new methods in heating houses--an _oven_ and _tubes_ are in formation; so also a tall man at his desk with pencils. i do like to get something worth reading, but here is a break-down, something really thrilling--the mountain topples over on the road. you are soon to be, or have been, in great peril. i also see a _fireman_. do you see his hat? the man smiled, yet confessed, as i read on. you carry an atmosphere that aids the reading. you have had an escape by not being at the "windsor" that special afternoon. he was surprised. "she is a fine guesser," said the young man, highly pleased. again, you cherish a happy hope in an elderly couple. they are your true friends. you are now all in the same lines of thought. oh, there is a modest, young lady coming to the elderly folks. she is now away in some large building--a school, i think. you will _love her_. she has a lover who writes to her--you do not-- yet the signs are to be favorable to both of you. now for the last toss. i am disappointed in your efforts. oh, how it storms! see the snow-flakes and the great stream of water! i really feel its cold currents now. something is to be destroyed by it ere you meet the lady. she is in the bottom of the cup. why have you left her so long. i can hardly find her. you will need to strive for your good fate. she is to pass out of your life i think some years before you do, yet you will live an active life. many artistic _new roads_ and the _plough. _you will create something truly beautiful--see the _pedestal_ amid the landscape--the _swing _and _gardening_. how _restful_ it makes me feel! you will be so, sometime, young man. object lessons. now, young ladies, concentrate your minds and let us note the symbols, if your wish really to have views and comprehensive enjoyment, so that what is shown in each cup may be at the close interestingly connected. like in a primer, let us go straight through. you have heard other readings, develop your descriptive faculties. do not stop till done to discuss in detail, thereby losing the best effects, and you will thus find some interesting results. you see how most persons like to lift the veil to revelations. much progress lies before us all. surprised. just look here, florence, said the amateur, _rings_ and a _sunrise_, not out of the clouds either. look, too, at the oval forms like _eggs. _at home we can't get such cups. here we are in the higher waves. we are determined to read something to inspire others, as you read to us, said the girls with eagerness. but, which one of you ladies turned the cup? i ought to have directed my occult forces on one at a time. now, you need to divide honors and loss. the one who is herein represented is in a most happy frame of mind. i wish it were the test cup--the third and certainty--for the sake of the fortunate lady and her family, then your destiny were assured and your mentality would advance into lofty channels by the influence of an elderly couple and their progressive _sons_, for here is a _tower_ of moral strength. _hearts, circles, bible_ and _clovers_ are in the life-path. the skies, too, are clear and every thing is high up you see in optimism. let us now to business. ah! here it is--gains. a large _goose egg_ is in shape, also a _nest_. that is the home, though a great care has fallen into it. see the rain and these many little crosses here together so near the _nest_, which, in this turn, is the home, as there is no other symbol for it; now you can trace the square as the home-hearts also. you are kind and come from sympathetic people who love truth, books and progress, as does this bible family. an old man who is in another city will write. see the _m._, the _letters _and the _road_. there being no form of a man you take the initial. he may be _sixty-one _years of age; see, the numbers are touching the _m_.--man--in the midst of the dots. _sticks _and _crossties_ with _wavy lines--_common vexations. do not worry. though you are now apprised of a large theft which may come into your home. see the sly _rat_--a thief or burglar hovers nigh, have care. you have a few events in jupiter still left. how is it to be read? each reader must speak as the momentary inspirations come to suit occasions: we must promise the best, to stimulate _all_ good efforts, not only for self. well, you are really good and correct. i feel elevated by this interesting reading. we are delighted and shall share together this life-reading. our families are very dear to each other and may be still further united. then she blushed slightly, as whispering confidentially. oh, it's lovely, said the two girls, as others said the fates had favored them most of all. * * * several of the readings were too ordinary, just as many people are in truth, who contribute nothing for the benefit of higher thought and action, while others were not in good mental states nor in their lucky days, as they said, and as is partly true. one young man, a news-gatherer, could get nothing as all things lay distant and for others. "my life is to be forever blocked," said he though feigning total scepticism, yet a tone of disappointment was quite apparent when told that six months hence he should have a comprehensive word with new hopes. you are in the wrong world, and somehow i felt that he would be fairly driven into his real vocation by a lucky circumstance, for mother nature is ever kind to her children, though needing all honest co-operation. those keen eyes with fine perceptives and vivacious mentality would direct his impulses eventually, for the power of reason and resource lay within his then, somewhat undecided, brain, so have faith in your higher destiny, friends. [illustration: calligraphy flourish ] chapter ii. one year later. being patient and obliging, said a young lady, has cheated me out of my rights so many times. i was to have a reading that night at the home of mrs. m. c. for i served with hopes and glad expectations into each dainty cup of aromatic coffee that i poured, yet, as usual, did not get my reading. never have. i had either palm reading, cup or solar biology forecast, though promised each. oh, i was so disappointed, for it was my desire to learn your special, catchy methods, and to note the sensations cast upon me as under the magic spell. i cannot formulate the things you do, though my friends praise me unstintingly. you shall not be longer denied, said the adept. get a cup of coffee or tea, if not too coarse in leaves, after we lunch. i will read them, as we can be alone with our atmospheric thought advisers and our higher selves. i know that your life and labors will abound in good. many excellent things await your efforts, yet do not now think that my auto thoughts will be my full guides. oh, thank you. how nice the conditions are to be alone with one's future expectations. no one can then pervert what is promised. i am now most expectant, am glad i have waited for this propitious time. i love this little room with its dainty furnishings. first reading. you possess fine spiritual gifts; are morally high-toned; you build many castles--just see the _mountains_ and _balloons_, the _tower_ in the distance. you could study palmistry and occult laws to fine advantage. it has become so respectable, too, you know. yet few do excel, though many attempts are made. try it, you are very susceptible to every personality; you have a very retentive memory with large formative powers. just the requisites with your mentality for doing good to poor humanity. as a wise teacher you could excel. second cup. flurries of wind and storms--confusion in your home and heart-- _crooked lines_ with a _crude cross_ and a _sodden log_, out of which will rise a _broken anchor_--lost hopes or wishes. now, an ugly thing is discerned. see the _spitting_ of _cats_ and the _angry dog_. that is some disagreeable quarrel between friends of yours. a gentleman will pass through cruel loss and change. nothing good is yet promised to present wishes. _serpents_ are lying low in the grass--see their heads, you will suffer thereby--your head now lays low in some severe illness. fate is silent and sad for a time, as in mourning for the sorrows of the good and true. see you the _shaft_, draped like a funeral pall across the cup? you are also to bury a friend, a worthy minister. the people mourn. now let us invoke the kindly powers to a solution of the many evils cast by contending conditions of jealousies and spite. let your soul be possessed and purified, for now i know that you are truly one of the chosen few who are tried by the fierce fires and floods of life. this is a retrospective day for your soul--growth beyond your realization of [sentence is unfinished]. final inflow. a seriousness had fallen over both of them as touching on the live issues of frail, human hopes and fears, so that each felt the need of that great unseen, yet ever-living power divine. what a strange cup-reading it was in the end! wonderful to both of them, yet they somehow tarried, as though fearing to reveal the certainty chapters, as you now know the third is designated, yet the soul was sated. wealth, in some physical form, i find is the great desire, more even than love or friendship, so that i repeat the golden words of the poet, though knowing the need of money for worthy purposes. there will be for us just enough of the pure coin, not this "god of greed." the golden god. [thomas hood.] gold! gold! gold! gold! bright and yellow, hard and cold; molten, graven, hammered and rolled; heavy to get and light to hold; hoarded, bartered, bought and sold, stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled; spurned by the young, but hugged by the old to the very verge of church-yard mould, price of many a crime untold; gold! gold! gold! gold! then said the psychometrist: now, look with me into this cup. let us, together, trace the final symbols, now that we are united as true friends. the form of a woman--see her head and her garments blown forward, the wind is at her back. she goes now with some strong, public tide. that is well. in this clear field there is recognition for you. an _electric street light_--that, too, is some public good in process for your sharing;--and here is like a flowing stream. the mountains are, also, again in view. each effort holds in a life-reading like this. some rubbish before reaching the heights. but look! oh, behold the _moon_ behind the hills. see, it is surely beginning to rise. let your mind now concentrate on its sublime glory. it is the best kind of promise. honors await yourself and another member of your family. a full moon signifies that other events have poured their treasures into conditions which have required time. your moon is not yet over the full scenes of your life. the sunrise, too, appears! how sublime! here is the stout man--your future husband with a child at his side. a man of affairs, with the _triangle_ and a _ship_ of _state_, and here are the roses growing. you will be greatly beloved. the _key_ and the _ring_ are in the bottom of the cup. you will become equal to your high social duties as mistress of the _castle_, and mother of two well endowed children, who will bless and survive you. the latter years of your life will be the most richly frought. see, the bottom of the third cup, also, has the clear streams. i shall expect you to wed with this stout, dark complexioned man, whose wife lies in the little grave that was in the second toss of the cup. we can now join the parts fittingly together, by noting first, second and this final. we may now attach other straying symbols as holding them in mind. thank you, ah, so much. i have gained real knowledge from this very interesting object-lesson reading, which stimulates my higher mental action with courage and purpose. some things delineated i now believe as true. the first _cups_ were a veritable marvel, yet too sadly comprehensive. i am greatly indebted to you for this most infatuating pleasure, proving the old adage, that the last do sometimes come first, by their patience. we all need just such talks sometimes. these are beyond the mere realms of pastime, said the reader, who was then inspired of god. halloween revelations. the energetic man of high purpose politically. here is an important cup. a long bridge. you are now in comprehensive touch with a subject-matter that ought to lead you with your family into ease and prominence. have patient care after you have reached the seeming goal, for, see here still the danger signal from the broken cart of past obstruction with the cross-ties. do not retreat in dismay. a bridge is of good significance unless you fall between, or it is broken while you are facing it or are thereon. you must be strong. in your trials, being magnetic, your forces will bring help to aid you by mental suggestions. but see this elephant, tossing about at the end of the bridge-- some imposition upon your family. see, the house being in touch, you will lose by the elephant, as letters with many lines mean vexation--strayed or stolen letters--and dead birds are on the ground. the rabbit is some coward. do not mind this, you will yet gain significant prestige by the aid of an old man on the new path. see him nearing the _trees_ in luxurious foliage--a true friend. now we sum up gains. you have striven. see the three rings or wreaths, the sunburst, and the distant tower clearly defined in the light. victory over loss and cowardice of friends. you are happy and secure. the summing up represents the home several years hence. many scattered objects have cleared away the defeats belonging to your life, in order to round it out symmetrically. there is good cheer. think of the toiling masses as becomes a true disciple of the christ. you will be in position to manifest to the world some vital principle. be not then enslaved by time-serving, selfish man. stand by the flag of your nation in honest and worth. your star shines high. woman out of the shadows. facts foretold. many streams--mental changes. though here is a great symbol, that of the ancients--the serpent--being wisdom. this one is of different significance. see how its long body has taken up space. the tail is three-forked and downward, the head being turned around, sharpened like a shepherd's crook, lower than the body. deception--intrigue--house of sickness--see the crosses and losses? the one tossing such a cup has been assailed in various ways. look now well to the above outlines which still hold a splendid promise. arches overhead--cannot be vanquished. symbols for a judgeship. fateful spite-lines with woman. appearances do oft deceive, good reader, though the cup figures hit my case correctly, beyond words of mine, as to past and some present events. may the future be as well verified, and i somehow believe it will be. you say the flame is now on after twenty-two long years of defeat; i also cross the water often, as you read, am soon to locate in a large eastern city. may this flame you describe possess my mind and heart as now. and your conscience, sir, the holy spirit within the higher self. your symbols urge you to noble deeds, yet you will never be blessed by woman's love, nor aid. do you see the standing well-poised form of a woman? rising power--creative force. see she has her feet firm on the back of the monster snake. you will soon become master of your higher destiny. i feel inspired by a mighty impulse. you will stand before many people--see the tall, straight ladder of fame--i should say that you are holding some still-cherished, mighty plans, despite many of life's defeats. now, as this is all free play, will you please tell me if this leading figure defines any of your conditions truthfully, as to politics? you deeply impress me with the ideas of large affairs. will see you later, madam. thank you cordially. chapter iii. the woman's era of national import. an unusual kaleidoscope----husband and wife. as the symbols are in uniting conjunction, you may both remain to formulate ideas and to delineate. you are no doubt desirous of the full enfranchisement of the human race. you seem just and liberal, as read by these various lights, amid contentions, yet with one central apex--the lighted lamp. next toss. no taxation, without due representation. now, look into this remarkable cup, with our uncle sam large as american life, one foot raised in forward move, as firmly holding the grand flag of the nation. see, upon it sails in earnestness a tall woman of high modern import. see you these faces? they are no milk and water characters. they come close together, uncle sam and the woman, as though to embrace in true love and lasting equality. now, behold the bird ascending the mountain, and the large hen and cockrell. behold the dove still higher up. justice, wisdom and peace must go hand in hand by all the people and for all the people. there is a fine sky scene besides. how remarkable are the strong outlines as interestingly touched up by creative imagery! oh, yes, we believe in true freedom as well as in all human rights. i tell you, you are destined to wield political influence. fear not, though there is to be very great commotion and strife, as to some bodies of beliefs joining forces, there is in evidence a serious national gulf, for a period, see the _seething mass_ below? yet the large, waving flag is in the midst of it all. see how its ample folds cover the little people! woman comes into full evidence with man and victory squares these and banners. now, see you the large moon-faced man from over the deep water? behold the many little people. these represent, without doubt, the toiling masses. see them look to our great flag, uncle sam and america. see the guns they leave behind, though they appear well armed by some firm revolves. some power crowned is near death's gates. there is some peril on the other shores and on this, yet the links for chains of co-operation come later on. first, there are spears, guns, rasping files; secret orders, too, which shall in due time become fully known to uncle sam, for, see you the boxes and the broken lines, like a serpent yet, living cables with its intricate workings. i am stirred by its forces, now international. oh, yes, you could learn to read by concentration of mind. this is the first time this great combination has been presented to me. your special auras and the cosmic direction in present era of human action have aided in portraying these objects. life is full of signs of the times. you are thinkers. no doubt the reader is, at times, largely dominated by the enquirer, though you now prefer to learn of finances. the large fish is in evidence, however, not yet at hand. clouds obscure desires. you will be thrust into this exciting national and more equal-rights work, with several men of distinction. see the breast-plates and medallions. this is a suggestive and interesting chapter to me and requires study to apply. do you grasp some of the leading ideas? hold them fast, to appropriate as you advance into the vortex of deeper action. see how the steepled church is in evidence. not so wonderful. many things photograph themselves for further reading by observation. we are yet in the very infancy of comprehending cause and effect. _kismet!_ i detest war, yet mankind is destined to thus make the annals of future history more complete in equity and in fraternal justice to humanity. let us prove that the world is really advancing. this is the fierce and fermenting time, the entire world's chemicalizing process. we may all learn from the great book of life. though many noble souls seem vanquished, each actor shall be his own, yet united historian. thank you. readings of this character are instructive, even to skeptics. wish we could all read and retain each helpful part. as one thinks on these lines the fuller atmospheric waves become laden with blessings. the good book says, "ask and ye shall receive," so, ask in wisdom and in faith. you are now charged with the desires. perhaps i do inspire inquiry. look at these lines of chairs in this fine toss, also men. birds again--rows of singing birds, and flowers, too--joyous expectations. man with baton--musical matters, attended by audiences. you either are in full touch with singers, or certainly will be. the swing up high is a fine sign. follow it up with courage, the double triangle, the long road and the unobscured star are before you. these promise you honors and fame. you will know the art of growing old sweetly. see the gallery of pictures you have collected. the park and the people, too! heaven has blessed you with mental gifts and spiritual graces in the glorious, ever present, because of your doing things with no dreaded to-morrow. this is a superb final, for the light lines are within your daily duties. you will travel together in close relationship--husband and wife, and begin anew very nearly at the same time. it is really an inspiring text. thus do we learn to know each other in one little hour of life as fulfilling worthy purposes by every act divine. chapter iv. mystical cup. touching, no doubt, on the death of pope leo, as also on some one of the present party somehow connected with nobility. see you the ocean? here is a kingly form, robed and crowned, yet standing with arms and hands filled, symbolizing someone with great plenty in foreign lands. at the feet, a severed circle, some disordered boxes, a pair of large, closed shears pointing toward another commanding form, though obstacles lie between them. also a crouching form, in part human, with large eyes, and now, on his back a weighty something, facing the less pretentious forms, one of whom is bowed by some new disappointment, being near a fallen wall. some one in mental suffering, as thorns crown one of the lesser heads, facing a distant city. some hidden wrongs are to become manifest. see the army of men in disorder! soldiers are in line, too, with horsemen from all sides of the land and waters. dread dismay, yet with keen-edged expectancy in evidence. behind the kingly form there is a tower--strength--though there is the unlighted torch at the top. some large bird in the back scene will venture into peril. near the shaft at its base are caverns. on closer inspection you can see the vapors arising. you see the entire world appears interested--so many heads of men. one of the party had expected some special news from distant lands, saying: "verily, the atmosphere is filled with these things,"--auto thought or otherwise. secrets after all are not so hidden, though i believe this reading to pertain largely to the city of rome, the vatican palace and famed historical tiber. you see, we have all been reading the news. we are in this floating ether of thoughts, no matter what little wishes we have of our own. our untutored minds cannot yet apply some of these lessons. everything is in form atmospheric, to be photographed for tangibleness to our crude senses. how then can we be held in blame for the committal of even some desperate acts? are we not at the perpetual mercy of evil men and powers, which blind fair reason? listen, friends, are there not better objects everywhere? yet modest things are apt to be overlooked. are we not dazzled by pomp and show? did we not all cry out, "oh, what a wonderful cup--a king, a king with a crown?" we must not allow our morals to thus easily hang like conventional cowards. this cup of the king's is full of strife. numerous virtues are not observed. see the little tables and the tender vines so choked by grasses, even modest flowers by the fallen walls! let us note these, yet glory and pomp are man's highest aim in life. i say we should all become a freer people, but we are flattered by show and even despotism. i behold wonderful promises. this strong trail is for a long time. see the cutting instruments again. the rasp and the little scissors shadowed beneath the larger symbols. behold the bed-rock, with crevices to catch the feet, and here, a small road comes near a tunnel, looking ambitiously towards the large avenue where splendor, prestige and power are seen. see modern fashion so careless of the rights of others--these poor little people. yes, i will describe some of these figures, to teach, if so we may, a bit of entertaining, benevolent sense. again, look at this upper row of soldiers, machine-made men. see the trumpets, i can almost hear their blast, and see the dust and life-blood of degrading, cruel wars, which impoverish and grind into filth the entire afflicted human race, though there are very excellent people of wealth, were there to wisely co-operate. there is some promise in this reading. if rich men could become active benefactors--see the little banners--wars would at once end, and the christ would live with mankind. minister's speech. i cannot believe that a loving, merciful god bids man to further wars, strife and blood-shed for mere aggrandizement. it is really a libel on all progress, grace and moral justice. the god and dear saviors whom i love and honor are not monsters of cruel vengeance. there exist so many excellent signs of the good time to dawn on the human race, when the tidal wave once really sets into combined, perpetual motion. let us all desire to thus aid the race along these lines, or in whatsoever ways we can. i am forever indebted to a dear, high-souled lady, who loved young folks, for my first deep moral thought-lessons in cupology, and in character readings. life-long impressions and aids have these brought to many others, in this high-art sensing of human needs, therefore let us supply an atmosphere in which good thoughts can germinate, believing that nature has a bank which is a sure one that can never break. a bank of full justice; life's worthy inheritance; your acts. now friends, this collection may end my readings briefly. in order to learn one must teach. no, i have not added some of those special past verifications. i try to study the lesser forms as well as the prominent ones to cultivate patient sensing. observe your feelings towards your friends or pupils. be honest, sincere, and sympathetic in heart to heart talks. hold confidence reposed as a sacred gift. that is one of the secrets of friendship and success in every walk through life. let us believe it so. fire in vatican. burns part of library with bare and ancient books. that portion of the vatican containing the hall of the inscriptions, where the pope gives his audiences, and which is adjacent to the famous and precious pinacoteca, or gallery of pictures, was burned sunday. the smoke and flames were seen from a mile distant. the first intimation of fire was had when smoke was seen issuing from the apartment of m. mario, which is located above that of father earl, the librarian, who lives over the library. m. mario is a celebrated french restorer of ancient manuscripts and illuminated books. he has been engaged in copying work, and his first reproductions have been selected for part of the vatican's exhibit at the st. louis exposition. it is supposed that m. mario forgot to take proper precautions with his kitchen fire, which probably blazed up and ignited some nearby hangings. the entire museum of inscriptions, the rooms of father earl, part of the library and the printing houses were entirely flooded with water. it is impossible to reach even an approximate idea of the extent of damage. many articles were saved, including some ancient and very valuable arms which were recently moved to the library from the borgia apartment in order to make room for the new residence of the papal secretary of state. many things that escaped the flames were injured by water, especially the precious private library of pope leo. the above clipping verifies the reading of the king's cup. chapter v. the acquisitive adept. by a bright girl of seventeen. dear lady, this is not as i should like to promise. you have suffered deeply. here are dark caverns, crosses, confusion and wavy, broken and crooked lines. no good luck to be foretold. so it appears on the surface. you are overcast by sorrow and losses, with death to many present hopes. as holding up the cup, gravestones, tears--heart-tears--seems an ill-omened cup, yet no one need to be discouraged. i can now reveal to you, even in this conclusive reading, one fair remaining sky-scene, with a little sun-burst, and a distant square. examine, also, below the tangled rubbish. see you the head of the little anchor, like some friend in need. trust still in the good, and such will come to you. let no one say they are doomed. this lady is well along in years, therefore, this one fair spot of sky-scene is large enough to fill in the remaining periods with joy and hope. i am not content to skim over the mere surface. helpful revelations need the deeper, mental searchlight. by turning this cup from left to right, the symbols shadow forth a peaceful old age, up near the sky-light and the evening star. the dots, with little rings--some kindly aid until the close, with loving, retrospective hope in the final all good. i feel your deep enthusiasms, my friend. god's blessings on you, dear child. you thrill my soul with expectant gladness. it proved that a benevolent boston family opened their hospitable doors to this lovely old lady amid her deepest dilemmas. also, a small inheritance came to this star-lit dome of her declining life's protection. a woman's winning card. a woman's winning card is cheerfulness. she may be capable of countless self-sacrifices, infinite tenderness and endless resources of wisdom, but if she cloaks these very excellent possessions under a garb of melancholy she may almost as well not have them, so far as the ordinary world is concerned. chapter vi. three coquettes. the fickle trio--social whirlwinds. you say, "tell us all you see." young ladies, there is a mixed-up state of affairs, yet one must use good judgment, so steady your minds for correct appreciation of the kindness of your near associates and friends. these fourths of july mental pyrotechnics are not safe playthings, my dear young friends. here are outlined so many love gifts, with pleasures too short-lived. you are pain-giving iconoclasts. heart-breakers, said the three, laughing. you have spoken correctly, for here are broken, also incomplete circles and squares. these imperfect lines so near the life symbols _key and wish_ with shattered urns and crushed flowers. ah! and here are some blighted trees! this is both the spring time of your lives as of the seasons, so have care for the sad heart tears you cause and will reap. lives are oft thus crushed. you are acting your funny parts as now you think. "know thyself," young man. trifle not with the happy, little blonde lady, whose widowed mother passes sleepless nights thinking of her two pretty daughters. neither be too attentive to the young matron, whose master carries the dagger by his side. l. and h. seem not good letters of names nor localities for you. yet, you possess some fine mental gifts. good books are near. you girls will soon drift apart by a stolen letter and some dark cloud of distrust, though you will need each other. see you the separate roads, with the harsh wind blowing the leafless branches of the trees? and yet near by shines the beautiful meadow, just beyond your present thoughts. strive to cultivate more of the duties of needed practical life and hopes. these high thought signs will not serve you, when life's autumn comes. now listen, little brunette. accept the old love in about two years. he will return to you from a distance. you smile, yet you will not wed with any one now associated. do not, then, deceive him. he is keen of mind and heart. see, his sky is clear, and the ring of promise is in the light. yes, we can now see these outlines. you are a psychologist. you make us see them, as you desire, young man. note you their forthcoming. i cannot impel these realities. emma is the good name of your best friend, young man. she loves you thoughtfully. cultivate her rare graces. the mirror is clear that is near her home. the birds sing and the children are joyful. fine symbols. the home-garden, too, is beautiful. let us trace the lines. the old, sick lady, inmate of the home will die in the autumn. that will be a decisive change for that family. do not allow them to pass out of your kindly care, if real friends you would possess. lives can be strangely made or unmade oft times. one must be wise in order to be happy. these pitchers, with stout handles, as here seen, signify some lucky circumstances. the supposed wealth of this globe-trotting, dark clothed lady friend is to have a big fall. see the objects! the trunks are all upset and she is in ill temper and very self-willed. see the head? a mule is near her. how curiously you read some of these things. i shall note them more fully, though you do not compliment us three at all. are we, then, so soulless in our innocent pleasures? pray, tell. i but delineate some truths as your benefactor, and as i am given them for each. you all love popularity and excitement. oh, yes, things appear true in part, as to a few simple things, yet it is very pleasant to hear you read these fanciful figures. i know the lady emma, also the worrysome, aged, sick woman. i expect an upset at her death, yet we hope for good results, though you promise me irritating labors by this looked-for change. how amusing this big frog, the magician or joker, as you term him. i did not know the tad-pole was so gifted. some months later proves the death, and several of the stated events more than verified. with the young folks asking eager questions, the clouds had gathered. the lame man came into view. the good time not yet. confusion and discord revealing some added cares as threaded together by the symbols as previously shown, and from the note-book of the young man. the hated lame man of letters having rudely flustrated the game of their lives, yet he was just, though believed to be the cruel enemy, from the broken, wavy lines and cutting things about him, then facing towards them. mental reason, or impressment plying its parts as touching these mingled, and confusion atmospheres, proving that all things affect us, consciously or otherwise, relating to life. these intricate and wonderful relationships--these cosmic laws-- bind all mankind together for better or, more often, for needless sorrow and trials. yet here was some good side to these life-lines, for their own choosing, had each been more unselfish and just. are we, then, arbiters of our own fate? it is still an open question to many, though there is a time for all things. let us not be fatalists. we must seize the handle of the subject, when the door is waiting to open. each association makes some conditions, brief or life-long. we are not bound to be enslaved forever, though nothing pays but justice, kindness, patience and useful duty, if peace we would enjoy here or hereafter. in the christ spirit. there is at least one good, guardian angel ever ready to aid in each life, my dear young friends. one of these ladies did marry that mentioned first love after many sad disappointments, with little intrigues, as afterward she said: "be neither too fickle, too self-opinionated, nor too _submissive_. be something useful. learn to reason with head, heart and soul." the young man is still plodding on in pessimism. this best friend emma is still alone, yet working out some of the noble purposes of her helpful, progressive life, knowing that "her own will surely come to her" some good time, and that this brief school-life is not the end of anything nobly sought for. simulating big things allowed the young man to belittle many noble facts in nature, thus stunting his manly growth, and overgrowing this chilling pessimism with smart retorts. one really desiring to aid humanity can become inspired into consistent kindness, well centered in the lines of forecast, as also in the cup reading pleasure. so observe the figures, point them out, summing up as these gems of thought come to life. one too lazy or disobliging cannot grow these many latent powers. these are as yet but dimly apprehended. all persons possess some special gift. god meant it so, and that we give hope and joy in all honest ways. so try your gift in this mingling of your aspirations for lofty expressions, which transmit pleasing convictions, strange as at first these may appear. each soul, as reading or listening, creates an atmosphere of either flippancy, depression, courage, trust, or some vital power. some persons there are, who make us feel happy and well by simply looking at us, or thinking of us, with that subtle power that cures one of melancholia, discouragement, or irritability. writing a letter with a soul is good. you know there is the soul of things, a fact in nature. i know of many cases, on turning backward in memory's pages. one special one of a dear musical friend, who became very ill from over-work, with nervous headache and sick stomach, so that all hope of an expected musical evening had to be abandoned, as she took her bed in disgust, with sore disappointment. about an hour later, not entirely unexpected, there called at her home a beloved brother, whose melodious voice in song proved to the lady better than any medicine, as he quietly sat down to the piano to sing that sweetly pathetic song: "only waiting till the shadows have a little longer grown." hark? said the sick lady quickly sitting up at hearing the first notes. oh, that is my dear brother, peter--his name signifieth lord. please aid me to dress. i am really better, i am, indeed, do not fear. i must go down to hear him sing. his charming voice has lifted me into strength. i will take the tea. though very pale, she entertained that evening, and even sang, until midnight. not one of the party at that time was a christian science believer either. we are only in the kindergarten of life. some time we shall all possess the high art of selecting our friends and our life companions, my dear, eager, anxious inquirers. we have power in ourselves to grow. this was simply an unadulterated fact, proving the power of mind, soul and spirit on itself from the stimulus of the brother; there being also very much efficacy in the harmony of tones as well as of personality. i wish more persons could be conscious of the power of the voice on the actions of all we come in contact with. we are now touching but slightly on the esoteric, as carnal desires are yet in full evidence. i have now in mind a sensitive lad of fourteen, who, after four trying years ran away from a really good home and a step-mother, because of her harsh tones. though a good woman, his soul-life seemed to suffer. "the way she says things," said he, "is awful to something in me, so that i want to fight. i can't help but shiver. oh, i don't know what it is. i want to be good. i know she does some nice things." though the young philosopher chose for himself a severe taskmaster, with plenty of added work, yet, with some special kindliness in trustful tones that proved part-pay, some needed, minor chord was touched in the soul-life of the lad, that gave him hope in himself and in his future, which proved very true. he has long been a kind and useful citizen, in precepts for the young, and an object lesson to many. a practical, reasoning benefactor of the race, as was the kindly charles dickens in the interest of child-life. so let us work. these times are infinitely larger, broader, and more full of promise to the world. our musical friend has left the shadows that were then gathering about her life. gone into the more perfect light and life of her true inheritance, with god the loving parent of all human and divine joys. chapter vii. superstition. do not hold to cowardice nor fear of death. the mad bull with the spade stands near by. look into this strange cup of figures and graves. some recent death and gloom has somehow filled your mind with renewed horror. you have also felt that you are about to die. not a comfortable thought, madam, to be snuffed out of all earthly hopes! abandon your cringing fears. dread nothing. you must gain mastery over these crude forebodings, or you will be seriously handicapped. most discouraging is fear. the spirit of conscious life cannot be annihilated. man is immortal. we should not doubt the word of god nor his prophecies. towers, trees, and large scenes are in evidence to aid you into a larger life career. see you now the rubbish by the grave! enough to hopelessly entangle you. see the many wild animals in your path near the dung heap. again the tears and the fears. you do not stand erect. your ideas of the after-life seem to belie your professed creeds. one of your sincere friends and true helpers requests my candid service in your behalf as noting your vibrations. thank you. i will now proceed further with your sanction. listen well: you belong to a class who would send dinamic heart-beats to disturb your entire bodily system on the subject of death. were it a necessity to perform even some slight operation, your death in this state might easily ensue from very fear. madam, how is one to overcome nature? i do not brag on my heroism as others do. i do fear death, the devil and his imps. i have often dreamed of him as pursuing me. there must be something to it, as my father believed likewise. i want the good time of life here. we don't know of the hereafter as promised. young man, your birth-right, your reason and education are at fault, if nineteen years of life's action has brought you no solace. you are not in life's true logic, nor is the profession of law well chosen for you by your relatives, neither is the ministry. you now think you are in love with a good young girl. how will you comfort her when sorrows come to you? she, too, fears death and pain beyond the ordinary. a pair of simple young folks, indeed, both of you. see, in this last cup the flame of destruction has come. you have both lost your heads. death and loss have invaded the home. everything is scattered about. no reason nor care remains. indecision, crosses, and breaks are in promise. the good symbols are yet distant, though inviting you to their ample folds. you need first to be whipped into life's truer graces, as oft we are. your parents were weak, sympathetic and selfish. there were five of you in family. the figure in first cup was correct, though not an old man there, that is three years past! and the one-armed man! that was long ago, too. yes, but his letters yet lie near your family thoughts. do not lose them, there is value attached. yet there are imprisoned minds who do not know their real possessions. now, these bars and unformed circles bespeak it. behold the light on the obscure desk in the old square. oh yes, he was cheated out of his rights, years ago, yet father keeps the letters. there is nothing in them now. yes there is, several years hence, by the death of a child and a lost woman from near an ocean city. news sudden will come to you. let your fancy concentrate a little on these letters. how peculiar! there was one who died by water, that was a family connection. you have now had three readings. hold your true texts in mind. fear nothing but injustice. you will be tested. you will yet love the ocean, even the lightning's fierce flashes, though after sudden peril and loss you will make acquaintance with your higher self--not be so selfish nor material. eight years of strange wanderings with indecision and betrayal by a false black hand, as shown you. several gravestones and some sickness. after these experiences you will awaken from some of life's medley of dreams and fears. you will then meet a strong, true woman, who will dominate much of your nobler, latent life, and aid you into position, if you do not mar your life's course in about three years. your hand reads likewise. in this last cup of yours are spears and weeds, with knives and hidden crosses. your dangers, as here read, are very many. there are so many small lives filled with idleness, though some useful objects could oft be reached. yours is largely among these. yet i am pleased to state you could yet become a fine mind and life trainer by the age of forty, if wise enough to select your true helpers--good books. no one can work effectively alone. my mind has traveled with you up to these years, viewed the field of resource and its possibilities. you should win two helpful friends. only one comprehensive life-course reading has shown this entire evening. we do not gain the high art of holding the good which we gain, so profligate are we. then we like to blame our friends or the fates for our poor judgment and our obtuseness. until we begin to work as though we belong to and believe in an immortal life, as an inheritance, the great human family cannot enjoy that useful cohesion that belongs to mankind as god designed life's distributives--our higher attributes. again, shun the man with the fire-arms and bottles. behold the weapons. the dark pit lies near him with many cross-bars, cages and clouds. an evil combination--_imprisonment_, though your sunlight has only been dimmed. if so, your will, patient labor and strong desire can yet win for you. the flag of victory is now so limp. this fear of kindly death or hell is the enemy of mankind. do not again thus cringe to this fair angel of life to all men eventually. you can live to old age and follow streams, fishing as pastime. this old man symbolizes your dear self now calmed in mind--not so dead as in youth. so, hold your true texts for ready action, and become a brave man to enjoy the true life here promised to you. if we have stimulated in any heart some lofty resolves, which will unfold their fragrance for other lives, we are then well repaid, as trusting in the infinite all good. a pilgrim on the path. clara. [illustration: calligraphy flourish ] cupology. _significance similar to psychic readings, clairvoyant symbols, or dreams_. if high up in the cup--early consummation. if chained to the bottom--delayed desires. uncle sam--american matters. statesmanship--waving flags; hopeful signs. arm--proffered aid accordion--primitive talent apples--health, knowledge atlas--sight, seeing bats--moral blindness bees--thrift bed--illness or need of rest birds--news, singing, joys bridge--some event in life broom--industry bread--to be sated cooks--learning cake--luxury cats--jealousies children--good omen cavern--near danger circles--fine realizations cow--good nutriment crescent--love token cattle--thrift children at play--universal good crosses--some trials chair--to preside chicks--cares chickens--gains crowing cock--ambitious, victory crows--intrigues ditch--dangers ahead dogs--friends door--some opening dots--letters, papers, news ears--listen well elephant--some imposition eggs--gains eyes--to observe feet--traveler feet, bare--poverty fish--money, gains fish, headless--losses flowers--joy, pleasure floods--sickness, sorrow fountain--public benefit fruit--health forests--nature loving fox--cunning hearts--artistic love of unity, friends, home hand--friendship horse--much news, friend horse, vicious--angry friend houses--home building jewel-box--wealth jumping--vitativeness lock and keys--to be put in trust lion--moral courage ledger--in accounts lighted lamp--great success lock--a secret moon--honors monkeys--evolution--darwin medals--diplomas news-boys--public excitement nuts--problems oxen--patient toil palms--restful victory palm-trees--tropical scenes park--benevolence platform--oration pitcher--to receive public seats--people's joy quills--old parchments rats--thieving ring--contract near heart, wedding with child or flowers, bliss road--an outlook rabbit--timidity, cowardice rainbow--sublime promise saw or scissors--vexations scales--love of justice star--hope, promise squares--realizations sunlight--vital life, health ships--commerce sinking ships--perils and loss spring--wisdom, peace snake--enmity, lies staff--aid sofa--social or courtship spiders, or-- scorpions--illness, venom sky-scenes--sublimity and peace tiger--onslaught tall shaft--illustrious dead table set--feasting trees--lofty thoughts tower--strength urns--veneration, retrospection wells--wisdom and drawing forth good wheat--plenty whirlwind--distraction wavy lines--vexations weeds--petty trials window--in a new light monks, nuns, priests or ministers--betoken sectarian controversies scattered objects--lack of harmony and no propitious time for action keep the mind well centered in reading. thus only will the transmitting powers of soul expand the descriptive faculties. [illustration: calligraphy flourish ] girlhood. [amelia e. barr.] an exquisite incompleteness, the theme of a song unset; a waft in the shuttle of life; a bud with the dew still wet; the dawn of a day uncertain; the delicate bloom of fruit; the plant with some leaves unfolded, the rest asleep at the root. popular toasts. [illustration: american flag] _our flag:_ the beautiful banner that represents the precious _mettle_ of america. our country's emblem. the lily of france may fade, the thistle and shamrock wither, the oak of england may decay, but the stars shine on forever. * * * the standard of freedom floats proudly on high, it's the bright waving banner of light, fair symbol of liberty born of the sky, true emblem of union and might. webster's motto. liberty and union, now and forever, one and inseparable. ship of state. nail to the mast her holy flag; set every threadbare sail; and give her to the god of storms, the lightning and the gale. a toast to our native land. huge and alert, irascible yet strong, we make our fitful way 'mid right and wrong. one time we pour out millions to be free, then rashly sweep an empire from the sea! one time we pull the shackles from the slaves, and then, quiescent, we are ruled by knaves, often we rudely break restraining bars, and confidentially reach out toward the stars. yet under all there flows a hidden stream, sprung from the rock of freedom, the great dream of washington and franklin, men of old, who knew that freedom is not bought with gold; this land we love, our heritage, strange mixture of the gross and fine, yet sage and full of promise,--destined to be great, drink to our native land--god bless the state! --_robert bridges in the atlantic_. * * * here's to the man who loves his wife, and loves his wife alone, for many a man loves another man's wife, when he ought to be loving his own. toast to the horse. dr. kane, president of the new york drivers' association, at a public dinner recently delivered the following toast to the horse: "that bundle of sentient nerves, with the heart of a woman, the eye of a gazelle, the courage of a gladiator, the docility of a slave, the proud courage of a king, and the blind obedience of a good soldier. the companion of the desert and the plain; that turns the moist furrow in the spring in order that all the world may have abundant harvests; that furnishes the sport of kings; that with blazing eye and distended nostril, fearlessly leads our greatest generals through carnage and the smoke of battle to glory and renown; whose blood forms one of the ingredients that go to make the ink in which all history is written, and that finally, mutely and sadly, in black trappings, pulls the humblest of us all to the newly sodded threshold of eternity." our absent friends. although out of sight we recognize them with our glasses. false friends. here's champagne for our real friends, and real pain for our sham friends. our incomes. may we have heads to earn and hearts to spend. here's wishing us all more friends and less heed of them. may we ever be able to serve a friend, and noble enough to conceal it. the sphere of woman. they talk about a woman's sphere as though it had a limit; there's not a place in earth or heaven, there's not a task to mankind given, there's not a blessing or a woe, there's not a whispered yes or no, there's not a life, or death, or birth, that has a feather's weight of worth-- without a woman in it. * * * here's to the friends we class as old, and here's to those we class as new, may the new soon grow; to us old, and the old ne'er grow to us new. a few toasts. woman. she needs no eulogy--she speaks for herself. may we have the unspeakable good fortune to win a true heart, and the merit to keep it. may we never murmur without cause and never have cause to murmur. woman. the fairest work of the great author; the edition is large and no man should be without a copy. happy are we met, happy have we been, happy may we part, and happy meet again. may satan cut the toes of all our foes, that we may know them by their limping. the man we love--he who thinks the most good and speaks the least ill of his neighbors. * * * our national birds-- the american eagle, the thanksgiving turkey. may the one give us peace in all our states-- and the other a piece for all our plates. * * * here's to the girls of the american shore, i love but one, i love no more, since she's not here to drink her part, i'll drink her share with all my heart. a little health, a little wealth, a little house and freedom, with some few friends for certain ends, but little cause to need 'em. * * * col. lovell h. jerome, who resigned as second lieutenant second united states cavalry, in , and now repels the invading smuggler in new york city, brought a new toast to the hoffman house bar recently: to the ladies, our arms your defense, your arms our recompense, fall in! --_new york sun_. three great commanders. may we always be under the orders of general peace, general plenty and general prosperity. we now toast the superb electric flag of the people with every honorable elk who has beautified and made memorable these pleasures of the queen city.--_cincinnati, july, _. * * * though there's many a slip twixt the cup and the lip, yet, while o'er the brim of life's breaker i dip, while there's life in the lip, while there's warmth in the wine, one deep health i'll pledge, and that health shall be thine. --_owen meredith_. a hint on entertaining. "the most successful social functions are those managed by a host and hostess," says a society scribe, "not by either alone. leave a man to make up a party and he is sure to forget that mrs. b. was engaged to c. before she married d., and that mrs. c. is aware of the fact, and that the d.s and e.s have long been at daggers drawn, and he will have no eyes to detect the designs of mrs. h. on the other hand, a woman gets nervous and fatigued with the constant effort to keep the ball rolling, and fails just where a man would succeed. what is wanted is a division of labor, and if this were done oftener there would be less disappointment on the part of entertainers and entertained." look at your cup. a cup of coffee, farmers assert, makes a pretty accurate barometer: "to make a barometer out of a cup of coffee," a farmer said, "you must use loaf sugar. you drop a lump of this sugar exactly into the middle of your cup, and then watch the bubbles rise. it is by these bubbles that your prognostications are made. "if the bubbles rise straight up in the middle, remaining there in a cluster till they disappear, the weather is to be fair; if they rise at the sides of the cup, adhering to the china, the weather will be rainy. if they rise all over the coffee's surface, and move here and there erratically, changeable conditions are to be looked for." entertainment suggestion. here are some ideas for an entertainment, which is said to be both amusing and instructive, as it makes one think, and the time put into anything that makes men or women think is never lost. have an art gallery and invite your friends to it. each person is supplied with a catalogue and must pay a forfeit for every piece of art he fails to find. here is a sample of the catalogue: . the bell of the season. (a dinner bell.) . saved. (a bank containing a few pennies.) . an absorbing subject. (a sponge.) . a drawing subject. (a crayon.) . the skipper's home. (cheese.) . a young man's horror. (the mitten.) . the light of other days. (a candle.) . tears, idle tears. (an onion.) . can't be beat. (a turnip.) . the four seasons. (salt, pepper, vinegar and mustard.) . a regular bore. (a gimlet.) . family jars. (mason's fruit jars in three sizes.) . true to the core. (an apple.) . a prison scene. (a mouse in a trap.) . a switchtender. (a hairpin.) . a bunch of dates. (a calendar.) of course, no one speaks in the art room. every guest fills in what names he can, hoping that his friends will miss many more than he does. have ten or more "pieces of art" than are on the catalogue. this is to mystify a little. have a peanut? an original young woman of lamar has invented a new kind of social diversion. it is the "progressive peanut party." four guests are seated about each table, and on the table is placed a crock full of peanuts. each guest is provided with a hatpin, and when the word is given all begin jabbing for peanuts. the quartet that empties its crock first wins the game, and then the sets of players change. it is needless to say that the peanut party is strictly a "hen" function. a man couldn't jab a crockful of peanuts with a hatpin in a week, but the young women of lamar played thirty games in a single afternoon.--_kansas city journal_. what the eyes tell. the color of the eyes has hitherto chiefly concerned the novelist and the poet, but lately the cold-blooded statistician has been looking into them. it is announced that, taking the average of europe and america, . per cent of men have light eyes, including blue and gray. the proportion of women having blue or gray eyes is . per cent. in other words, blue eyes are decidedly rarer among women than among men, says the _london express_. men have light eyes oftener than women, but in the intermediate shades between light and dark the percentage of the two sexes is very nearly the same. in this intermediate category are brown and hazel eyes. the percentage of these among men is . , and among women . . the percentage of black eyes is larger among women than among men, being . per cent for the women, while among men it is . . blue eyes are considered to possess great attractions. this was the case among the greeks and romans of classic times. upon the goddess of minerva was bestowed a surname to signify the blueness of her eyes. gray eyes have ever been the ideal of all great novelists; among the number charlotte brontë, george eliot, wilkie collins and charles reade. most of the heroines in up-to-date fiction are gray-eyed maidens. of the living great, as well as the famous dead, most have eyes of gray blue. shakespeare had eyes of gray; so had nearly all the english poets. coleridge's eyes were large, light gray, prominent and of liquid brilliancy. byron's eyes were gray, fringed with long black lashes. charles lamb's glittering eyes were strangely dissimilar in color, one being hazel, the other having specks of gray in the iris. chatterton's brilliant gray eyes were his most remarkable features. under strong excitement one appeared brighter and larger than the other. as to green eyes they are for glory. the empress catherine of russia had eyes of this hue. in don quixote green eyes are thus referred to: "but, now i think on it, sancho, thy description of her beauty was a little absurd in that particular of comparing her eyes to pearls. sure, such eyes are more like those of a whiting or a seabeam than those of a fair lady, and in my opinion, dulcinea's eyes are rather like two celestial emeralds, railed in with two celestial arches, which signify her eyebrows. therefore, sancho, you had better take your pearls from her eyes and apply them to her teeth." green eyes are not popular, however. cervantes spoke of them as "verdant emeralds," that more usually they are likened to the optics of the cat. very few heroines have green eyes. jane eyre and rose, in robert elsmere, are the only two we can think of at the moment. revealed by the thumb. the thumb is a great tell-tale where character is concerned. if nose, eyes and mouth decline to reveal the secrets or temperament, you need not be at a loss. notice the hands, and especially the thumb of the person whom you are seeking to read. a broad and short thumb indicates lack of refinement. taken in conjunction with stubby finger tips and a thick wrist, it indicates coarseness, even positive brutality. a tapering thumb gives notice of extreme delicacy of perception and refinement of character. a thumb of medium breadth indicates balance between the extremes mentioned, and denotes strength of character essential to success in life. if when in repose the thumb curls outward, its owner possesses a sound constitution, much vitality and cheerfulness. on the contrary, if the thumb naturally falls inward towards the palm, a melancholy, despondent disposition is denoted, also constitutional delicacy and lack of vitality. characters in finger nails. broad nails denote a gentle natured person, inclined to be modest and unassuming. narrow nails denote a studious but not very gentle nature, with a desire for scientific knowledge. white nails denote a fondness for society of opposite sex, not overstrong in health and subject to fevers. round nails denote a desire for knowledge in general, apt to take great pride in own accomplishments, rather hasty, yet fairly good natured and forgiving. long nails denote caution, lacking confidence in human nature, decided in opinion and strictly virtuous. eyes are cold, enticing, sympathetic or affectionate. the mouth is kissable (as men say), cynical, cruel, sensuous or indifferent, and so with all the features. beauty's seven nurses. beauty, it is said, has seven nurses, which, if given full charge, will make of the homeliest woman a picture of charm and loveliness. these magic seven are fresh air, sunshine, warmth, rest, sleep, food and whatever stirs the blood, be it exercise or enthusiasm. be sure to get plenty of sleep. you can sleep yourself into good looks. a long nap and a hot bath will make any woman more attractive, and lift years from her shoulder. don't be afraid of sunshine and fresh air. they offer you bloom and color. and deep breathing is surely the hand-maid of the fresh-air nurse. deep breathing gives a fine figure as well as clear complexion. don't sit down to table as soon as you come in from work, or a round of social duties. lie down, or sit down, for ten minutes, waiting until you can partake of your dinner with the physical machinery rested and refreshed. don't bathe in hard water. soften it with a little powdered borax, or a handful of oatmeal. don't bathe the face while it is very warm, or very cold. don't wash the face when traveling, unless it is with a little alcohol and water, or a little cold cream. don't attempt to remove dust with cold water. give the face a hot bath with soap, and then rinse thoroughly with clear tepid or cold water. don't rub the face with too coarse a towel. treat it as you would the finest porcelain, tenderly and delicately.--_philadelphia telegraph_. to discover a woman's age. every man seems to be born with a desire to know the age of the ladies with whom he comes in contact, and women also appear to have an innate curiosity concerning the number of "summers" which have passed over the heads of their female friends. but there is nothing more difficult to discover than the exact age of a lady who wishes to keep the fact a secret. now, here is a little scheme by which you can find out the age of any person. having engaged that person in pleasant conversation, you proceed something after the following manner--speaking very innocently, of course:-- "there is a very simple problem in arithmetic which very few people are able to see through, yet it is as easy as possible. i wonder if you can do it?" this sets the person on his dignity, and he or she wants to do it at once. then you go on: "think of a number corresponding to the numerical order of the month in which you were born. oh, no, you need not tell me." (to make the explanation clear, we will assume that the figure is two--standing for february--and that the age is .) "now, multiply that figure by ," you continue, "and add . done that? well, multiply that by and add your own age.-- from the total subtract , and to the total add . now, what figure have you got?" " ," replies the person addressed, "isn't that correct?" "exactly," you exclaim, "you are one of the very few persons who have managed it." and you turn away to hide your smile of satisfaction at having discovered that your victim was born in february and that he is thirty years of age. you have arrived at this result by separating the figures into (february) and . and you can do this with everybody's age. try it on your sweetheart.--_tit-bit_. how he may be won. some men have been found courageous enough to express themselves on the subject, "how to win a man." here are the requirements from a masculine point of view for winning a man worth having. the summer girl should cut this out and paste it on her mirror: be natural, be extremely fastidious in choosing friends, in conversation, in manners, and in dress. be neat, for the well-groomed woman, though plain, is more attractive than the slovenly beauty. be cheerful and fun-loving, be kind, unselfish, sympathetic and affectionate. be interested in everything that will improve your mind and broaden your views. be orderly, systematic, and industrious, but do not waste time on non-essentials. good reading is far better than useless fancy work. be domestic and home-loving, secure as much knowledge as possible concerning house-hold affairs, and do not be ashamed to use it. be athletic enough to keep in fine physical condition and just manly enough to be self-reliant and courageous, but not so independent as to forget for one moment that you are a woman. cultivate a liking for children and old people, for you must remember that you have been the one and will be the other if you live long enough. do not appear to be superior, even if you know that you are, one can easily be mistaken on this point. do not be conceited or vain, do not be silly or gushing, or too eager. do not be late and yet do not waste time in being too early; study repose of manner, it is so restful to tired nerves. do not nag either before or after he is won; the "i told you so" has lost many a friend and lover. be frank, and truthful and forgiving, and remember that forgetting must often go with forgiving. this, of course, is the ideal woman, but the standard is not too high for any girl to strive for.--_philadelphia telegraph_. dew drops. wisdom is the flower of experience. hope is good, but hustle is better. energy, however, usually follows encouragement. a soft answer sootheth, but a wise one shameth. the genius never regarded as a crank is yet to be born. do as i say, not as i do: preaching love with a jealous heart. to move through the world without the dissent of others: be temperate and pay your debts. happiness is not so difficult to obtain as to retain. who will not work without pay should also be consistent enough to refuse pay without work. heart and head are two masters who may be served by one hand. human deification, permitted or self implied, is an offense against deity. birth stones for luck. do you want that mysterious thing that is called "good luck?" of course you do. then in some form or another you must always wear your birth stone. this is declared to be, by the superstitious, a true talisman against all the ills that flesh is heir to. upon her finger in a handsome ring the very modern girl wears the stone that means good omen to her, and feels that she is secure from harm. if it is not in a little golden circlet upon her hand, then perchance she wears it at her throat, in one of the little dingle dangles that are so fashionable. but about her neck, in her fob, or bangle, the lass who wishes to cast a spell of good fortune about herself, somewhere wears the stone that is assigned to the month in which she first saw the light of day. in what month were you born? do you know what is your birth stone? if you do not you better at once discover the stone and begin to wear it. that is, if you wish good luck, and what maiden ever lived who does not sigh for it. here is a list of the gems, and the months to which they are assigned by those soothtellers who know all the signs for luck, good or ill: for january, garnet; february, amethyst; march, jasper; april, sapphire; may, chalcedony; june, emerald; july, onyx; august, carnelian; september, chrysolite; october, aquamarine; november, topaz; december, ruby. kruger's unlucky diamond. when kruger went to europe he took with him a famous diamond, which was said to have brought misfortune and death to all its possessors. it had a strange history. the diamond originally belonged to meshhesh, a basuto chief, from whom it was extorted by t'chaka, the zulu king. t'chaka's brother killed him and stole the stone. the brother came to grief and the gem passed into the possession of a zulu chief, who soon afterward was assassinated. the natives say that no less than sixteen of the successive possessors of the diamond were either killed or driven out of the country for the sake of the gem. the diamond was then seen by white men who sought to possess it. a party of whites attacked the natives who had the stone in their possession, and a fierce fight ensued, in which lives, mostly natives, were lost. memela, a native chief, took the gem and concealed it in a wound which he had received in the battle. afterward memela was caught by the boers and set to work as a slave. kruger, hearing his story, released him, and in gratitude memela gave the stone to his liberator. some years passed, and then kruger met his misfortune. where the fatal diamond is now is not certain, though it is certain that the ex-president of the transvaal parted with it. some say that it is in the coffers of the vatican, and some that it was sold to the emperor of austria, and is now among the crown jewels of vienna. the stone is said to be carats in weight, but is not perfect.-- _baltimore sun_. strange wills. there have not been many will makers more eccentric than mr. maccraig, the scotch banker, whose last testament will shortly come under the consideration of the edinburgh court of session. mr. maccraig it may be remembered left instructions in his will that gigantic statues of himself, his brothers and sisters, a round dozen in all, should be placed on the summit of a great tower he had commenced to build on battery hill, near oban--each statue to cost not less than $ , . * * * a much more whimsical testator was a mr. sanborn, of boston, who left $ , to prof. agassi, to have his skin converted into drum-heads and two of his bones into drumsticks, and the balance of his fortune to his friend, mr. simpson, on condition that on every th of june he should repair to the foot of bunker hill, and, as the sun rose, "beat on the drum the spirit stirring strain of yankee doodle." * * * a mr. stow left a sum of money to an eminent king's counsel, "wherewith to purchase a picture of a viper stinging his benefactor," as a perpetual warning against the sin of ingratitude. * * * it was a rich english brewer who bequeathed $ , to his daughter on condition that on the birth of her first child she should forfeit $ , to a specified hospital, $ , on the birth of the second child, and so on by arithmetical progression until the $ , was exhausted. * * * sydney dickenson left $ , to his widow, who appears to have given him a bad time during his life, on condition that she should spend two hours a day at his graveside, "in company with her sister, whom i know she hates worse than she does myself." laughagraphs. it is related of george clark, the celebrated negro minstrel, that, being examined as a witness, he was severely interrogated by the attorney, who wished to break down his evidence. "you are in the negro minstrel business, i believe?" inquired the lawyer. "yes, sir," was the prompt reply. "isn't that rather a low calling?" demanded the lawyer. "i don't know but what it is, sir," replied the minstrel, "but it is so much better than my father's that i am rather proud of it." "what was your father's calling?" "he was a lawyer," replied clark, in a tone of regret that put the audience in a roar. the lawyer let him alone. the man who can make us laugh. god bless the man who can make us laugh. who can make us forget for a time, in the sparkling mirth of a paragraph, or a bit of ridiculous rime, the burden of care that is carried each day, the thoughts that awaken a sigh, the sorrows that threaten to darken our way, god bless the dear man say i. queer blunders. illegible copy has caused innumerable amusing and not a few serious blunders in print. a speaker quoted these lines: o, come, thou goddess fair and free, in heaven yclept euphrosyne. they were printed as written: o, come, thou goddess fair and free, in heaven she crept and froze her knee. the reporter was following sound. here is another illustration: those lovely eyes bedimmed, those lovely eyes be dammed. a congressman advocated grants of public land to "actual settlers." it got in the paper as "cattle stealers." a reporter tried to write that "the jury disagreed and were discharged," but the compositor set it up "the jury disappeared and were disgraced." the last words in a poorly written sentence, "alone and isolated, man would become impotent and perish," were set up as "impatient and peevish." a mysterious telegram. a certain church society in vermont resolved on a christmas festival, and determined to have a scripture motto, handsomely illuminated, in a space back of the pulpit. one of the deacons, who had business in boston, took with him the proposed motto and the measure of the space to be occupied by it, but unfortunately lost the memorandum. he therefore sent this telegram to his wife in vermont. "send motto and space." she promptly complied, but the boston telegraph girl fell off her chair in a faint when she read off the message, "unto us a child is born four feet wide and eight feet long." the deacon, however, thought it nothing uncommon. * * * mistress: did the fisherman who stopped here this morning have frog legs? nora: sure, mum, i dinnaw. he wore pants.--_cornell widow_. * * * "goodness," exclaimed the nervous visitor "what vulgar little hoodlums those noisy boy are out there in the street!" "i can't see them," said the hostess, "i'm rather near-sighted, you know." "but surely you can hear how they're shouting and carrying on." "yes, but i can't tell whether they're my children or the neighbors."--_philadelphia press_. fortune. a divinity of fools, a helper to the wise. dead easy. funnicus--it's a queer thing, but all the men employed at the cemetery are historical characters. dullwum--how do you make that out? fennicus--they're mound builders, aren't they? a bad spell of weather. dear paw--i am having a luvly time, so do not expeck me home ontill next week. all are well and send luv. the wethur is brite and fare. yure sun, will. for an evening game. at a club social the hostess proposed a game of "sobriquets," offering a prize for the one who would identify the largest number of the assumed names. she gave to each one a slip of paper on which were typewritten the assumed names of numerous persons, mostly writers, and at a signal allowed them twenty minutes in which to write the correct names opposite. a few illustrations are here given, but others may be added: currer bell -- charlotte bronte mark twain -- samuel clemens uncle remus -- joel chandler harris boz -- charles dickens bard of avon -- shakespeare peasant bard -- robert burns poet of nature -- wordsworth immortal dreamer -- bunyon the traitor -- benedict arnold little corporal -- napoleon bonaparte mr. dooley -- peter dunne oliver optic -- william t. adams gail hamilton -- mary a. dodge grand old man -- gladstone poor richard -- benjamin franklin swedish nightingale -- jennie lind brother jonathan -- jonathan trumbull father endeavor -- francis clark tippecanoe -- general harrison george sand -- mme. dudevant ian maclaren -- john watson timothy titcomb -- j. g. holland ik marvel -- donald g. mitchell mrs. partington -- b. p. shillaber the learned blacksmith -- elihu burritt peter parley -- samuel g. goodrich autocrat of the breakfast table -- dr. oliver wendell holmes uncle sam -- united states something to remember. rulers, presidents and ministers who have been slain or attacked within the century. napoleon i, attempted, december , . paul, czar of russia, march , . spencer perceval, premier of england, may , . george iv, attempted, january , . andrew jackson, president united states, attempted january , . louis philippe, of france, many attempts, from to . frederick william, of prussia, attempt, may , . francis joseph, of austria, february , . ferdinand, charles iii, duke of parma, march , . isabella ii, of spain, three attempts, from to . napoleon iii, three attempts, from to . daniel, prince of montenegro, august , . abraham lincoln, president united states, april , . michael, prince of servia, june , . prim, marshal of spain, december , . richard, earl of mayo, governor-general of india, february , . abdul aziz, sultan of turkey, june , . william i, of prussia, three attempts, from to . alexander ii, czar of russia, six attempts and finally killed by explosion of bomb, march , . mohammed ali, pasha, september , . humbert i, king of italy, attempt, november , . lord lytton, viceroy of india, attempt, december , . alfonso xii, of spain, two attempts, - . brattiano, premier of roumania, attempt, december , . james a. garfield, president united states, july , . carter h. harrison, mayor of chicago, october , . marie francois carnot, president of france, june , . nasr-ed-din, shah of persia, may , . stanislaus stambouloff, premier of bulgaria, july , . canovas del castillo, prime minister of spain, august , . juan idarte borda, president of uruguay, august , . jose maria reyna barrios, president of guatemala, february , . empress elizabeth, of austria, september , . edward vii, of england, attempt, april , . humbert, king of italy, july , . william mckinley, president united states, september , . alexander, king of servia, june , . draga, queen of servia, june , . governor general bobrikoff, of finland, june , . von plehve, minister of the interior, russia, july , . the four leaved shamrock. "i'll seek the four leaved shamrock in all its fairy dells, and if i find its charmed leaves, oh how i'll weave my spells. i would not waste my magic might on diamonds, pearls or gold, such treasures tire the weary heart, their triumphs are but cold. but i would play the enchanter's part in casting bliss around, and not a tear or aching heart should in the world be found." * * * * * "to wealth i would give honor, i'd dry the mourner's tears, and to the pallid cheeks restore the bloom of happier years; and friends that had been long estranged, and hearts that had grown cold, should meet again like parted streams and mingle as of old. and thus i'd play the enchanter's part in casting bliss around, and not a tear or aching heart should in the world be found." none questionable amusements and worthy substitutes by j. m. judy introduction by george h. trever, ph.d., d.d. the manuscript of this book was not submitted to any publisher, but was put in its present form by jennings & pye, for a friend of the author. address. chicago: western methodist book concern, . introduction. by george h. trever, ph.d., d.d. author of comparative theology, etc. a book on "questionable amusements and worthy substitutes" is timely to-day. such a grouping of subject matter is in itself a commendation. possibly we have been saying "don't" quite enough without offering the positive substitute. the "expulsive power of a new affection" is, after all, the mightiest agency in reform. "thou shalt not" is quite easy to say; but though the house be emptied, swept, and garnished, unless pure angels hasten to occupy the vacated chambers, other spirits worse than the first will soon rush in to befoul them again. the author of these papers, the rev. j.m. judy, writes out of a full, warm heart. we know him to be a correct, able preacher of the gospel, and an efficient fisher of men. having thoroughly prepared himself for his work by courses in northwestern university and garrett biblical institute, by travel in the south and west of our own country, and by a visitation of the old world, he has served on the rugged frontier of his conference, and among foreign populations grappling successfully with some of the most difficult problems in modern church work. the following articles aroused much interest when delivered to his own people, and must do good wherever read. in style they are clear and vivid; in logical arrangement excellent; glow with sacred fervor, and pulse with honest, eager conviction. we bespeak for them a wide reading, and would especially commend them to the young people of our epworth leagues. whitewater, wis., march , . preface. "questionable amusements and worthy substitutes" is a consideration of the "so-called questionable amusements," and an outlook for those forms of social, domestic, and personal practices which charm the life, secure the present, and build for the future. to take away the bad is good; to give the good is better; but to take away the bad and to give the good in its stead is best of all. this we have tried to do, not in our own strength, but with the conscious presence of the spirit of god. the spiritual indifference of christendom to-day as one meets with it in all forms of christian work has led us to send out this message. "questionable amusements," form both a cause and a result of this widespread indifference. an underlying cause of this indifference among those who profess to be followers of jesus christ, is lack of conviction for sin, want of positive faith in the fundamental truths of the scriptures, too little and superficial prayer, and lack of personal, soul-saving work. is the class-meeting becoming extinct? is the prayer-meeting lifeless? is the revival spirit decaying? is family worship formal, or has it ceased? however some may answer these questions, still we believe that the church has a warm heart, and that signs of her vigorous life are expressed in her tenacious hold for high moral standards, and in her generous giving of money and of men. our point of view has been that of the person, old or young, regardless of sect, race, party, occupation, or circumstances, who has a life to live, and who wants to make the most out of it for himself and for his fellow-men, and who believes that he will find this life disclosed in nature, in history, and in the word of god. j.m.j. orfordville, wis., march, . contents part i. questionable amusements chapter i tobacco ii drunkenness iii gambling, cards iv dancing v theater-going part ii worthy substitutes vi books and reading vii social recreation viii friendship ix travel x home and the home-maker part i. questionable amusements. "the excesses of our youth are drafts on our old age, payable about one hundred years after date without interest."--john ruskin. i. tobacco. tobacco wastes the body. it is used for the nicotine that is in it. this peculiar ingredient is a poisonous, oily, colorless liquid, and gives to tobacco its odor. this odor and the flavor of tobacco are developed by fermentation in the process of preparation for use. "poison" is commonly defined as "any substance that when taken into the system acts in an injurious manner, tending to cause death or serious detriment to health." and different poisons are defined as those which act differently upon the human organism. for example, one class, such as nicotine in tobacco, is defined as that which acts as a stimulant or an irritant; while another class, such as opium, acts with a quieting, soothing influence. but the fact is that poison does not act at all upon the human system, but the human system acts upon the poison. in one class of poisons, such as opium, the reason why the system does not arouse itself and try to cast off the poison, is that the nerves become paralyzed so that it can not. and in the case of nicotine in tobacco the nerves are not thus paralyzed, so that they try in every way to cast off the poison. let the human body represent the house, and the sensitive nerves and the delicate blood vessels the sleeping inmates of that house. let the foe opium come to invade that house and to destroy the inmates, for every poison is a deadly foe. at the first appearance of this subtle foe terror is struck into the heart of the inmates, so that they fall back helpless, paralyzed with fear. when the intruder tobacco comes, he comes boisterously, rattling the windows and jostling the furniture, so that the inmates of the house set up a life-and-death conflict against him. this is just what happens when tobacco is taken into the human system. every nerve cries out against it, and every effort is made to resist it. you ask, will one's body be healthier and live longer without tobacco than with it? we answer, by asking, will one's home be happier and more prosperous without some deadly foe continually invading it, or with such a foe? when the membranes and tissues of the body, with their host of nerves and blood vessels, have to be fighting against some deadly poison in connection with their ordinary work, will they not wear out sooner than if they could be left to do their ordinary work quietly? to illustrate: a particle of tobacco dust no sooner comes into contact with the lining membrane of the nose, than violent sneezing is produced. this is the effort of the besieged nerves and blood vessels to protect themselves. a bit of tobacco taken into the mouth causes salivation because the salivary glands recognize the enemy and yield an increased flow of their precious fluid to wash him away. taken into the stomach unaccustomed to its presence, and it produces violent vomiting. the whole lining membrane of that much-abused organ rebels against such an intruder, and tries to eject him. tobacco dust and smoke taken into the lungs at once excretes a mucous-like fluid in the mouth, throat, windpipe, bronchial tubes, and in the lungs themselves. excretions such as this mean a violent wasting away of vitality and power. taken in large quantities into the stomach, tobacco not only causes an excretion of mucus from the mouth, throat, and breathing organs, but it produces an overtaxing of the liver; that is, this organ overworks in order to counteract the presence of the poison. but one asks, if tobacco is so injurious, why is it used with such apparent pleasure? a small quantity of tobacco received into the system by smoking, chewing, or snuffing is carried through the circulation to the skin, lungs, liver, kidneys, and to all the organs of the body, by which it is moderately resisted. the result is a gentle excitement of all these organs. they are in a state of morbid activity. and as sensibility depends upon vital action of the bodily organisms, there is necessarily produced a degree of sense gratification or pleasure. the reason why these sensations are pleasurable instead of painful is, in this state of moderate excitement the circulation is materially increased without being materially unbalanced. but as with every sense indulgence, when the craving for increased doses becomes satisfied, when larger doses are taken the circulation becomes unbalanced, vital resistance centers in one point, congestion occurs, then the sensation becomes one of pain instead of one of pleasure. this disturbance or excitement caused by tobacco is nothing more nor less than disease. for it is abnormal action, and abnormal action is fever, and fever is disease. it is state on good authority, "that no one who smokes tobacco before the bodily powers are developed ever makes a strong, vigorous man." dr. h. gibbons says: "tobacco impairs digestion, poisons the blood, depresses the vital powers, causes the limbs to tremble, and weakens and otherwise disorders the heart." it is conceded by the medical profession that tobacco causes cancer of the tongue and lips, dimness of vision, deafness, dyspepsia, bronchitis, consumption, heart palpitation, spinal weakness, chronic tonsillitis, paralysis, impotency, apoplexy, and insanity. it is held by some men that tobacco aids digestion. dr. mcallister, of utica, new york, says that it "weakens the organs of digestion and assimilation, and at length plunges one into all the horrors of dyspepsia." *tobacco dulls the mind.* it does this not only by wasting the body, the physical basis of the mind, but it does it through habits of intellectual idleness, which the user of tobacco naturally forms. whoever heard of a first-class loafer who did not e-a-t the weed or burn it, or both? on the rail train recently we were compelled to ride for an hour in the smoking-car, which dr. talmage has called "the nastiest place in christendom." in front of me sat a young man, drawing and puffing away at a cigar, polluting the entire region about him. in the short hour enough time was lost by that young man to have carefully read ten pages of the best standard literature. all this we observed by an occasional glance from the delightful volume in our own hands. the ordinary user of tobacco has little taste for reading, little passion for knowledge, and superficial habits of continued reasoning. his leisure moments are absorbed in the sense-gratification of the weed. but if as much attention had been given in acquiring the habit of reading as had been given in learning the use of tobacco, the most valuable of all habits would take the place of one of the most useless of all habits. when we see a person trying to read with a cigar or a pipe in his mouth, knowing that nine-tenths of his real consciousness is given to his smoking, and one-tenth to what he is reading, we are reminded of the commercial traveler who "wanted to make the show of a library at home, so he wrote to a book merchant in london, saying: 'send me six feet of theology, and about as much metaphysics, and near a yard of civil law in old folio.'" not a sentimentalist, a reformer, nor a crank, but dr. james copeland says: "tobacco weakens the nervous powers, favors a dreamy, imaginative, and imbecile state of mind, produces indolence and incapacity for manly or continuous exertion, and sinks its votary into a state of careless inactivity and selfish enjoyment of vice." professor l. h. gause writes: "the intellect becomes duller and duller, until at last it is painful to make any intellectual effort, and we sink into a sensuous or sensual animal. any one who would retain a clear mind, sound lungs, undisturbed heart, or healthy stomach, must not smoke or chew the poisonous plant." it is commonly known that in a number of american and foreign colleges, by actual testing, the non-user of tobacco is superior in mental vigor and scholarship to the user of it. in view of this fact, our government will not allow the use of tobacco at west point or at annapolis. and in the examinations in the naval academy a large percentage of those who fail to pass, fail because of the evil effects of smoking. tobacco drains the pocketbook. "will you please look through my mouth and nose?" asked a young man once of a new york physician. the man of medicine did so, and reported nothing there. "strange! look again. why, sir, i have blown ten thousand dollars--a great tobacco plantation and a score of slaves--through that nose." the partido cigar regularly retails at from twenty-five to thirty cents each. an ordinary smoker will smoke four cigars a day. three hundred and sixty-five dollars a year, besides his treating. a small fortune every ten years! a neighbor of ours on the farm used to go to town in the spring and buy enough chewing tobacco to last him until after harvest, and flour to last the family for two weeks. among all classes of people this useless drain of the pocketbook is increasing. in our country last year more money was spent for tobacco than was spent for foreign missions, for the churches, and for public education, all combined. our tobacco bill in one year costs our nation more than our furniture and our boots and shoes; more than our flour and our silk goods; one hundred and forty-five million dollars more than all our printing and publishing; one hundred and thirty-five million dollars more than the sawed lumber of the nation. each year france buys of us twenty-nine million pounds of tobacco, great britain fifty millions, and germany sixty-nine million pounds, to say nothing of how much these nations import from other countries. never before has the use of tobacco been so widespread as to-day. "the turks and persians are the greatest smokers in the world. in india all classes and both sexes smoke; in china the practice--perhaps there more ancient--is universal, and girls from the age of eight or nine wear as an appendage to their dress a small silken pocket to hold tobacco and a pipe." nor can the expense and widespread use of tobacco be defended on the ground that it is a luxury, for the abstainer from tobacco counts it the greater luxury not to use it. the only explanation for its use is, that it is a habit which binds one hand and foot, and from which no person with ordinary will power in his own strength can free himself. tobacco blunts the moral nature. it is not certain how long tobacco has been used as a narcotic. some authorities hold that the smoking of tobacco was an ancient custom among the chinese. but if this is true, we know that it did not spread among the neighboring nations. when columbus came to america he found the natives of the west indies and the american indian smoking the weed. with the indian its use has always had a religious and legal significance. early in the sixteenth century tobacco was introduced into england, later into spain, and still later, in , into italy. used for its medicinal properties at first, soon it came to be used as a luxury. the popes of italy saw its harm and thundered against it. the priests and sultans of turkey declared smoking a crime. one sultan made it punishable with death. the pipes of smokers were thrust through their noses in turkey, and in russia the noses of smokers were cut off in the earlier part of the seventeenth century. "king james i of england issued a counterblast to tobacco, in which he described its use as a 'custom loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black, stinking fumes thereof nearest resembling the horrible stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.'" as one contrasts this sentiment with the practice of the present sovereign of england, his breath is almost taken away in his great fall from the sublime to the ridiculous! while we do not believe a moderate use of tobacco for a mature person is necessarily a sin, yet we do believe that it does blunt the moral sense, and soon leads to spiritual weakness and indifference, which are sins. to love god with all one's heart, mind, soul, and strength, and one's neighbor as himself, means not only a denial of that which is questionable in morals, but a practice of that which is positively good. however noble or worthy in character may be some who use tobacco, yet by common consent it is a "tool of the devil." every den of gamblers, every low-down grogshop, every smoking-car, every public resort and waiting-room departments for men, every rendezvous of rogues, loafers, villains, and tramps is thoroughly saturated with the vile stench of the cuspidor and the poisonous odors of the pipe and cigar. "rev. dr. cox abandoned tobacco after a drunken loafer asked him for a light." not until then had he seen and felt the disreputable fraternity that existed between the users of tobacco. owen meredith gives us a standard of strength and freedom, which is an inspiration to every lover of rounded, perfected manhood and womanhood: "strong is that man, he only strong, to whose well-ordered will belong, for service and delight, all powers that in the face of wrong establish right. and free is he, and only he, who, from his tyrant passions free, by fortune undismayed, has power within himself to be, by self obeyed. if such a man there be, where'er beneath the sun and moon he fare, he can not fare amiss; great nature hath him in her care. her cause is his." only let the "will," the "powers," the "freedom," and the "self" of which the writer speaks become the "christ will," the "christ powers," the "christ freedom," and the "christ self." then the strongest chains of bondage must fly into flinters. for "if the son make you free, ye are free indeed." (john viii, .) ii. drunkenness. i. a temperance platform. we bring to you three words of counsel with respect to this subject. first, beware of the social glass; second, study the drink evil; third, openly oppose it. this is a temperance platform upon which every sober, informed, and conscientious person may stand. would it be narrow or uncharitable to assert that not to stand upon this platform argues that one is not sober, or not informed, or not conscientious? the crying need of to-day is, that men and women shall be urged into positions of conviction and activity against this most colossal evil of our time. in our country the responsibility for drunkenness rests not with the illiterate, blasphemous, ex-prison convicts who operate the , saloons of our nation, nor yet with the , finished products of the saloon who go down into drunkards' graves every year, but with the sober, respectable, hard-working, voting citizens of our country. nor does this exempt women, whose opportunity to shape the moral and political convictions of the home is far greater than that of the men. when the women of america say to the saloon, you go! the saloon will have to go. the moral and political measures of any people are easily traceable to the sisters and wives and mothers of that people. you and i and every ordinary citizen of our country had as well try to escape our own shadow, as to try to escape the responsibility that rests upon us for the drunkenness of our people. to help us to do our whole duty in our day and generation in this matter is the purpose of our message. ii. beware of the social glass. the first and least thing that one can do to destroy drunkenness, is to be a total abstainer. beware of the social glass! but quickly one replies, "why should there be any social glass?" "why allow sparkling, attractive springs of refreshing poison to issue forth in all of our social centers, and then cry to our sons and daughters, to our brothers and sisters, beware?" my friend, we must deal with facts as they are. there should not be a social glass; but what has that to do with the fact that the social glass is here? you answer, "why allow these fountains of death to exist?" while we cry to our loved ones, "beware!" we do not advocate the presence of these fountains; but while we seek to destroy them beseechingly we cry, "beware!" the social factor in the liquor traffic is its gibraltar of defense. rare is the young man who has the intellectual stamina and moral courage to resist the invitations to take a social drink. and in our frontier and foreign towns many of our bright and respected girls use the social glass. but in its use is the beginning of a fateful end. the subtlest thing in this world is sin. listen! "sin is a monster of so frightful mien; to be hated needs but to be seen; but seen too oft, familiar with the face, we first endure, then pity, then embrace." the subtle thing about it is, that the first embracing of any sin seems to be but a trifling, an occasional affair. for one who lives in an ordinary city of a thousand inhabitants or upwards, unless he is an "out-and-out" christian and selects only associates like himself, it becomes a real embarrassment not to indulge in a social drink. it seems polite, clever, the kindly thing to do. and the sad fact is, that the majority of unchristian young people and many older ones do not decline. to prove this we have but to look at the human wrecks along the shore. two young men lived near our home. their parents were well-to-do. the family grew tired of the farm and moved to town. the boys fell in with bad company. they did not decline the social glass. soon they furnished other young men with drink from their own pocket. this was fifteen years ago. to-day one of them is a hardened sinner, violent in his passions and blasphemous against god. the other one, having spent a term in our illinois state university at champaign, married a beautiful neighbor girl and moved to missouri. here he lived off the money of his father's estate, practicing his early-learned habits of drinking, gambling, and loafing. he moved from state to state until, finally left in poverty, he tended bar in a saloon. while visiting with relatives in his old neighborhood a few years ago he stole a watch and some money from his own nephew, and was tried in the courts, and sentenced to the penitentiary for one year. his wife, having carried the burden of disgrace and want through all these years, with the seven unfortunate children were released from him to struggle alone. all this we have seen with our own eyes as the years have come and gone. the downfall and ruin of this young man, and the unsaved fate of his brother, easily may be traceable to the "social glass" and the boon companions of the social glass--tobacco and playing-cards. last year i met a man who had prided himself in the fact that he could drink or let it alone, and thought that it was all right to take a "social glass" occasionally. election time came around; he fell in with his friends, and, as one always will do sooner or later who tampers with it at all, went too far. before he knew it he was as low in the gutter as a beast. it was three days before he was a sober man again. he work had ceased, he had disgusted his fellow-workmen, disgraced his christian family, and had humiliated himself so that he was ashamed to look any man in the face until he had repented of his sins before god, and had promised him, by his help, that he would never drink another glass. what a pleasure it was to hear that old man, as he is close to sixty years of age, to hear him tell in a spirited religious service of how he had strayed from his path and had got lost in the woods, but thanked god that he was out of the woods, and by his help would remain out. when we become undone in christ he lifts us up and starts us on our new way rejoicing in his love. if christ himself were here in body, do you know what he would advise on this point? he would say: "as it is written;" "look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth its color in the cup, when it goeth down smoothly: at the last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder." beware of the social glass, my friend, for though it promises pleasure, it gives but pain; it promises joy, it gives but sorrow; it promises deliverance, it gives but eternal death! iii. study the drink evil. we hear it said, "no use to picture the horrors of the drink evil; every one knows them already." in part, this is true. all of us know more than we wish it were possible to be true; and yet no one can ever realize its horrors until caught, and torn, and mangled in its pinching, jagged, griping meshes. it is one thing to know by a distant glance, it is another thing to know by the pangs of a broken heart and of a wrecked life. for those who are not thus caught in its meshes to realize its horrors so as to seek its destruction but one course is possible; namely, to study the evil. let the teacher tell of its ravages; let the minister proclaim its curses; let the poet sing it; the painter paint it; the editor report it; the novelist portray it; the scientist describe it; the philosopher decry it; the sisters and wives and mothers denounce it--until all shall unite in smiting it to its death! we should study the drink evil in its relation to disease. that strong drink tends to produce disease is no longer questioned. "during the cholera in new york city in , of two hundred and four cases in the park hospital only six were temperate, and all of these recovered; while one hundred and twenty-two of the others died. in great britain in the same year five-sixths of all who perished were intemperate. in one or two villages every drunkard died, while not a single member of a temperance society lost his life." "in paisley, england, in , there were three hundred and thirty-seven cases of cholera, and every case except one was a dram-drinker. the cases of cholera were one for every one hundred and eighty-one inhabitants; but among the temperate portion there was only one case to each two thousand." "of three hundred and eighty-six persons connected with the total abstinence societies only one died, and he was a reformed drunkard" of three months' standing. "in new orleans during the last epidemic the order of the sons of temperance appointed a committee to ascertain the number of deaths from cholera among their members. it was found that there were twelve hundred and forty-three members in the city and suburbs, and among these only three deaths had occurred, being only one-sixth the average death-rate." "in new york, in , only two out of five thousand members of temperance societies died." the northwestern life insurance company of milwaukee, wisconsin, one of the oldest and most successful companies in the northwest, has lived for nearly forty years next neighbor to lager beer interests. the shrewd men of this company have studied the influence of the beer industry upon those who engage in it. the result is, that they will no longer grant an insurance policy to a beer-brewer, nor to any one in any way engaged in the business. in their own words their reason is this: "our statistics show that our business has been injured by the short lives of those men who drink lager beer." then, we need to study the drink evil in its relation to society. "a recent report of the chaplain of the madalen society of new york shows that of eight-nine fallen women in the asylum at one time, all but two ascribed their fall to the effect of the drink habit." "a lady missionary makes the statement that of two thousand sinful women known personally to her, there were only ten cases in which intoxicating liquors were not largely responsible for their fall." "a leading worker for reform in new york says that the suppression of the curse of strong drink would include the destruction of ninety-nine of every one hundred of the houses of ill-fame." "a missionary on going at the written request of one of these lost women to rescue her from a den of infamy remonstrated with her for being even then slightly under the influence of drink." "why," was her indignant reply as tears filled her eyes, "do you suppose we girls are so dead that we have lost our memories of mother, home, and everything good? no, indeed; and if it were not for liquor and opium, we would all have to run away from our present life or go mad by pleadings of our own hearts and home memories." only by a study of the drink evil shall we know its ravages in the home. those of us who have lived in the pure air of free, country home-life can not easily realize the moral plague of drunkenness as it blights the home in the crowded districts of city slum life. nor is the home of the city alone cursed by the drink evil. three years ago this last holiday season we were doing some evangelistic work in a neighboring town, a mere village of a couple hundred inhabitants. i shall never forget how the mother of a dejected home cried and pleaded for help from the ravages of her drunken husband. she said that he had spent all of his wages, and had made no provision for the home, in furniture, in books for the children, nor in clothing for them nor for her. she had come almost to despair, and was blaming god for allowing her little ones to suffer because of a worthless man. o, the world is full of this sort of thing to-day, if we only knew the sighs and heartaches and blasted hopes of those who suffer! in a smoking-car one day a commercial traveler refused to drink with his old comrades, by saying: "no, i won't drink with you to-day, boys. the fact is, boys, i have sworn off." he was taunted and laughed at, and urged to tell what had happened to him. they said: "if you've quit drinking, something's up; tell us what it is." "well, boys," he said, "i will, though i know you will laugh at me; but i will tell you all the same. i have been a drinking man all my life, and have kept it up since i was married, as you all know. i love whisky; it's as sweet in my mouth as sugar, and god only knows how i'll quit it. for seven years not a day has passed over my head that i didn't have at least one drink. but i am done. yesterday i was in chicago. down on south clark street a customer of mine keeps a pawnshop in connection with his business. i called on him, and while i was there a young man of not more than twenty-five, wearing thread-bare clothes, and looking as hard as if he had not seen a sober day for a month, came in with a little package in his hand. tremblingly he unwrapped it, and handed the articles to the pawnbroker, saying, 'give me ten cents.' and, boys, what do you suppose that package was? a pair of baby's shoes; little things with the buttons only a trifle soiled, as if they had been worn once or twice. 'where did you get them?' asked the pawnbroker. 'got 'em at home,' replied the man, who had an intelligent face and the manner of a gentleman, despite his sad condition. 'my wife bought 'em for our baby. give me ten cents for 'em. i want a drink.' 'you had better take those back to your wife; the baby will need them,' said the pawnbroker. 'no, she won't..she's lying at home now; she died last night.' as he said this the poor fellow broke down, bowed his head on the showcase, and cried like a child. 'boys,' said the drummer, 'you can laugh if you want to, but i have a baby of my own at home, and by the help of god i'll never drink another drop.'" the man went into another car, the bottle had disappeared, and the boys pretended to read some papers that lay scattered about the car. ah, this is only one out of hundreds of such scenes that are being enacted every day in our saloon-cursed cities. we should study the drink evil to see how it makes people poor and keeps them poor. a story is told of a drinking man who related to his family a dream that he had had the night before. he dreamed that he saw three cats, a fat one, a lean one, and a blind one; and he was anxious to know what it meant that he should have such a strange dream. quickly his little boy answered, "i can tell what it means. the fat cat is the saloon-keeper who sells you drink, the lean cat is mother and me, and the blind cat is yourself." "in one of our large cities," one day, "a laboring man, leaving a saloon, saw a costly carriage and pair of horses standing in front, occupied by two ladies elegantly dressed, conversing with the proprietor. 'whose establishment is that?' he said to the saloon-keeper, as the carriage rolled away. 'it is mine,' replied the dealer, proudly. 'it cost thirty-five hundred dollars. my wife and daughter couldn't do without that.' the mechanic bowed his head a moment in deep thought; then, looking up, said with the energy of a man suddenly aroused by some startling flash, 'i see it!' 'i see it!' 'see what?' asked the saloonkeeper. 'see where for years my wages have gone. i helped to pay for that carriage, for those horses and gold-mounted harnesses, and for the silks and laces for your family. the money i have earned, that should have given my wife and children a home of their own and good clothing, i have spent at your bar. by the help of god i will never spend another dime for drink.'" south milwaukee has five thousand inhabitants. three large mills operate there. a reliable business man, foreman in one of the mills, told me that the laboring people of south milwaukee put $ , each month into the tills of the saloons. dr. j.o. peck, one of the most successful pastor evangelists of recent years, tells of a man who crossed chelsea ferry to boston one morning, and turned into commercial street for his usual glass. as he poured out the poison, the saloonkeeper's wife came in, and confidently asked for $ to purchase an elegant shawl she had seen at the store of jordan, march & co.. he drew from his pocket a well-filled pocketbook, and counted out the money. the man outside the counter pushed aside his glass untouched, and laying down ten cents departed in silence. that very morning his devoted christian wife had asked him for ten dollars to buy a cloak, so that she might look presentable at church. he had crossly told her he had not the money. as he left the saloon he thought, 'here i am helping to pay for five-hundred-dollar cashmeres for that man's wife, but my wife asks in vain for a ten-dollar cloak. i can't stand this. i have spent my last dime for drink.' when the next pay-day came that meek, loving wife was surprised with a beautiful cloak from her reformed husband. she could scarcely believe her own eyes as he laid it on the table. 'there, emma, is a present for you. i have been a fool long enough; forgive me for the past, and i will never touch liquor again.' she threw her arms around his neck, and the hot tears told her heartfelt joy as she sobbed out: 'charley, i thank you a thousand times. i never expected so nice a cloak. this seems like other days. you are so good, and i am so happy.'" the drink bill of our nation for last year was over a billion of dollars, more money than was spent for missions--home and foreign--for all of our churches, for public education, for all the operations of courts of justice and of public officers, and at least for two of the staple products of use in our country, such as furniture and flour. more than for all these was the money that our nation paid for drink last year. when the people of our country get their eyes open to the cost and degradation of the drink evil, something definite will be done by every one against it. the drink evil in its relation to lawlessness and crime, and to political corruption, reveal still more ghastly aspects of it than we have yet mentioned. the saloon strikes at the very heart, not only of law and order, but at personal liberty and justice in securing law and order. it was in a police court in cincinnati on monday morning. before the judge stood two stalwart policeman and a woman. she was charged with disorderly conduct on the street and with disturbing the peace. the policemen were sworn, and one of them told this story, to which the other one agreed. he said: "i arrested the woman in front of a saloon on broadway on saturday night. she had raised a great disturbance, was fighting and brawling with men in the saloon, and the saloonkeeper put her out. she used the foulest language, and with an awful threat struck at the saloonkeeper with all her force. i then arrested her, took her to the detention house, and locked her up." the saloonkeeper was called to the witness stand, and said: "i know dis voman's vas making disturbance by my saloon. she comes and she makes troubles, und she fights mit me, und i put her de door oud. i know her all along. she vas pad vomans." the judge turned to the trembling woman and said: "this is a pretty clear case, madam; have you anything to say in your defense?" "yes, judge," she answered, in a strangely calm, though trembling, voice: "i am not guilty of the charge, and these men standing before you have perjured their souls to prevent me from telling the truth. it was they, not i, who violated the law. i was in the saloon last saturday night, and i will tell you how it happened. my husband did not come home from work that evening, and i feared he had gone to the saloon. i knew he must have drawn his week's wages, and we needed it all so badly. i put the little ones to bed, and then waited all alone through the weary hours until after the city clock struck twelve. then i thought the saloons will be closed, and he will be put out on to the street. probably he will not be able to get home, and the police will arrest him and lock him up. i must go and find him, and bring him home. i wrapped a shawl about me and started out, leaving the little ones asleep in bed. and, judge, i have not seen them since." she did not give way to tears, for the worst grief can not weep. she continued: "i went to the saloon, where i thought most like he would be. it was about twenty minutes after twelve; but the saloon, that man's saloon"--pointing to the saloonkeeper, who now wanted to crouch out of sight--"was still open, and my husband and these two policemen were standing at the bar drinking together. i stepped up to my husband and asked him to go home with me; but the men laughed at him, and the saloonkeeper ordered me out. i said, 'no, i want my husband to go home with me.' then i tried to tell him how badly we were needing the money that he was spending; and then the saloon-keeper cursed me, and told me to leave. then i confess i could stand no more, and said, 'you ought to be prosecuted for violating the midnight closing law.' at this the saloonkeeper and policemen rushed upon me and put me into the street; and one of the policemen, grasping my arm like a vice, hissed in my ear, 'i'll get you a thirty days' sentence in the workhouse, and then we'll see what you think about suing people.' he called a patrol wagon, pushed me in, and drove to jail; and, judge, you know the rest. all day yesterday i was locked up, my children at home alone, with no fire, no food, no mother." the judge dismissed the woman; but the saloonkeeper, the perjured policemen, nor the corrupt judge were ever prosecuted for their unlawfulness. the whole affair was dropped because the saloon power in cincinnati reigns supreme. "this case is a matter of record in the cincinnati courts." it is a disgraceful fact that the liquor-traffic rules in politics to-day. a saloonkeeper in richmond, virginia, overheard some one talking of reform in municipal politics, when he scornfully said: "any bar-room in richmond is a bigger man in politics than all the churches in richmond put together." iv. the practical question for us here and now is, how may we openly oppose this drink evil? the churches need not expect a widespread revival of religion until professing christians do their duty with respect to the saloon. mothers and fathers need not expect their sons to remain sober while the saloon opens to them day and night. wives need not expect their husbands to remain devoted and loyal until the saloon is abolished. what is our duty? how shall we oppose the evil? how do the american people deal with evils when they deal with them at all? when great britain went a little too far in "taxation without representation," what course did the american colonies adopt in remedying the evil? their chief men said, "these colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states." the popular voice of the people decided it. when the british government unduly impressed american seamen, how was the difficulty settled? the representatives of the people, their lawmakers, declared war against the opposing nation, and forced her to cease her oppression. the popular vote decided it. when negro slavery darkened the entire sky of our country, and caused our leading men to realize that we could not long exist half-slave and half-free, how was the dark cloud dispelled? the representatives of our people, the lawmakers of the land, in letters of blood wrote the immortal thirteenth amendment to the american constitution: "neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime, whereof the person shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the united states, or any place subject to their jurisdiction." when we wanted to increase our territory in , and in , and in , how did we go about it? the representatives of the people, the lawmakers of the land, voted to make the purchases, and they were made. when a territory is organized, or a state comes into the union, what is done? the representatives of the people, the lawmakers of the land, vote upon it, and it is done. when treaties are to be made with foreign countries; when immigration of foreigners is to be regulated; when money is to be borrowed or coined; when post-offices and post-roads are to be established; when counterfeiting is to be punished, and public abuses are to be reformed, whose business is it? the constitution of the united states says the representatives of the people, the lawmakers of the land, have this power. when will the drink evil cease in our country? when our representatives in congress, or lawmakers, stand for the abolition of the american saloon, and vote it out of existence; then, and not until then, will drunkenness cease. when will we have representatives in congress, lawmakers who will stand for the abolition of the saloon, and who will vote it out of existence? not until you and i have select them, and place them there with our vote. to expect christian temperance in our country from any other source is absolute folly. the abolition of drunkenness by local option is selfish, unpractical, and unscriptural. you vote the liquor-traffic out of your town; we vote it in ours. remember every saloon exists only by vote of the people. your young people come over to our town for drink. we have the curse of god upon us. "woe unto him that giveth his neighbor drink." (hab. ii, .) it is unpractical, for so long as intoxicants are made they will be sold. it is selfish, for to vote against the saloon in your town election, and to vote for it in your state or national election, is to drive the mad-dog on past your door to the door of your neighbor, when you might have killed him. the abolition of drunkenness by regulating the traffic through license is the most gigantic delusion that satan ever worked upon an intelligent people. it is a well-known truth that "limitation is the secret of power." the best way to provoke an early marriage between devoted lovers is bitterly to oppose them. the stream whose water spreads over its low banks is without depth and current and power. but confine the waters between high, narrow banks, the bed of the stream is deepened, and its mighty current supports animal life and turns the wheels of mill and factory. the regulation of the liquor-traffic by license makes it a financial and political power second to none in america to-day. to vote for any party or man who advocates liquor license, is to give a loyal support to the american saloon. to expect the abolition of drunkenness solely through processes of education is to preach one thing and to practice another. it is to perpetuate an evil that costs two hundred and fifty thousand precious lives every year. it is to leave to the next generation a work that god expects us to do here and now. dr. banks relates an incident witnessed by major hilton on the coast of scotland. "just at the break of day the people of a little hamlet on the coast were awakened by the boom of a cannon over the stormy waves. they knew what it meant, for frequently they had heard before the same signal of distress. some poor souls were out beyond the breakers perishing on a wrecked vessel, and in their last extremity calling wildly for help. the people hastened from their houses to the shore. out there in the distance was a dismantled vessel pounding itself to pieces. perishing fellow-beings were clinging to the rigging, and every now and then some one was swept off into the sea by the furious waves. the life-saving crew was soon gathered. 'man the life-boat!' cried the man. "where is hardy?" but the foreman of the crew was not there, and the danger was imminent. aid must be immediate, or all would be lost. the next in command sprang into the frail boat, followed by the rest, all taking their lives in their hands in the hope of saving others. o, how those on the shore watched their brave loved ones as they dashed on, now over, now almost under the waves! they reached the wreck. like angels of deliverance they filled their craft with almost dying men--men lost but for them. back again they toiled, pulling for the shore, bearing their precious freight. the first man to help them land was hardy, whose words rang above the roar of the breakers: "are you all here? did you save them all?" with saddened faces the reply came: "all but one. he couldn't help himself at all. we had all we could carry. we couldn't save the last one." "man the life-boat again!" shouted hardy. "i will go. what! leave one there to die alone? a fellow-creature there, and we on shore? man the life-boat now! we'll save him yet." but who is this aged woman with worn garments and disheveled hair, with agonized entreaty falling upon her knees beside this brave, strong man? it is his mother! "o, my son! your father was drowned in a storm like this. your brother will left me eight years ago, and i have never seen his face since the day he sailed. no doubt he, too, has found a watery grave. and now you will be lost, and i am old and poor. o, stay with me!" "mother," cried the man, "where one is in peril, there is my place. if i am lost, god surely will care for you." the plea of earnest faith prevailed. with a "god bless you, my boy!" she released him, and speeded him on his way. once more they watched and prayed and waited--those on the shore--while every muscle was strained toward the fast-sinking ship by those in the life-saving boat. at last it reached the vessel. the clinging figure was lifted and helped to its place. back came the boat. how eagerly they looked and called in encouragement, and cheered as it came nearer! "did you get him?" was the cry from the shore. lifting his hands to his mouth to trumpet the words on in advance of their landing, hardy called back above the roar of the storm, "tell mother it is brother will!" my friend, simply talking and praying will not save our loved ones from drunkards' graves. we must man the life-boat of municipal, state, and national reform, and vote for principle and christian temperance until we save the last man. he may be "brother will." iii. gambling, card-playing gambling has become a moral plague of modern society. in one form or another it has entered the rank and file of every department of life--in private parlor over cards; in hotel drawing-room over election reports; in college athletic grounds over brains and brawn; in the counting-room over the price of stocks; in the racing tournament over jockeying and speed; in the board of trade hall over future prices of the necessaries of life; in the den of iniquity at dice; in the drinking saloon at the slot-machine; in the people's fair at the wheel of fortune; in the gambling den itself at every conceivable form of swindling trick and game. gambling has come to be almost an omnipresent evil. in treating this subject, it is our purpose to point out something of the nature of its evil, not only that we may be kept from it but that we may save others whom it threatens to destroy. gambling grows out of a misuse of the natural tendency to take risks. a social vice is some social right misused. men have the social right to congregate to talk over measures of social and economic welfare. but if they discuss measures which oppose the principles of free government, their meeting together becomes a crime against the state. a personal vice is some personal right misused. as some one has put it, "vice is virtue gone mad." it is a personal right and a personal virtue to be charitable, even beneficent. but since justice comes before mercy, if one uses for charity that which should be used in payment of debt, his virtue of beneficence becomes a vice of theft. so it is with gambling. it is giving the natural tendency to chance, to risk an illegitimate play. the person who is afraid to risk anything accomplishes but little in any way, is seldom a speculator, and never a gambler. usually the gambler is the man who is naturally full of hazard, who loves to run risks, to take chances. nor will one find a more practical and useful tendency in one's make-up than this. see the discoverer of america and his brave crew for days and days sailing across an unknown sea toward an unknown land. but that was the price of a new world. note the hazard and risk of our pilgrim fathers. but they gave to the world a new colonization. see the second greatest american on his knees before almighty god, promising him that he would free four million of slaves, providing general lee should be driven back out of maryland. general lee was driven back, and that immortal though most hazardous of all documents, from man's point of view, was read to his cabinet and signed by abraham lincoln. all great men have taken great risks. not a section of the united states has been settled without some risk. no business enterprise is launched without some risk. to secure an education, to learn a trade, to marry a wife, all involve some risk, much risk. the tendency to risk, to hazard, to chance it is a practical and useful tendency. only let this tendency be governed always by wisdom and justice. no person ever became a gambler until consciously or unconsciously he forfeited wisdom and justice in his chances and risks. gambling takes a variety of forms. first of all is the professional gambler. he has no other business. his investment is a "pack of cards" and a box of "dice. see him with his long, slender fingers; with his shaggy, unkempt hair; with keen eyes, and a sordid countenance. he is prepared to "rake in" a thousand dollars a night, and would not hesitate to strip any man of his fortune. the professional is found at county fairs, on railway trains, in gilded dens, and at public resorts. being a professional outlaw, and subject at any time to arrest and imprisonment, usually he has an accomplice. sometimes a gang work together, so that it is with perfect ease they may relieve any unwary novice of his money. they know human nature on its low, mercenary side, and soon can find their man in a crowd. but few persons have started out in life having it for their aim to get something for nothing who, sooner or later, have not been "taken in" by this gang of swindlers. they know their kind. the end of the professional gambler is final loss and ruin. he will make $ , he will make $ , he will make $ , , he will make $ , ; then he will lose all. then he will borrow some money and start anew. and again he will make $ , he will make $ , he will make $ , , and he will lose all. like the winebibber and the professional murderer, the professional gambler has his den. not a large city in the world is without these haunts of vice. who is it that feeds and supports them? the novice at cards and dice, husbands and sons of respectable families, just as the occasional dram-taker supports the saloon. as one has asked: "could fools to keep their own contrive, on whom, on what could gamesters thrive?" --gay. the penny novice seeks the penny gambling den. the aristocratic speculator seeks the gilded gambling den. the expert trickster of large luck and large fortune makes his way to monte carlo, the gambling mecca of the world. monte carlo is a famous resort situated in the northwest part of italy. it is notorious for its gambling saloon. this city of nearly four thousand inhabitants is located in monaco, the smallest independent country in the world. monaco is about eight miles square, and lies on a "barren, rocky ridge between the sea and lofty, almost inaccessible rocks." the soil is barren, except in small tracts which are used for fruit-gardens. for centuries the inhabitants, the monagasques, lived by marauding expeditions, both by sea and land, and by slight commerce with genoa, marseilles, and nice. but in the last century the people have converted their country and city into a world-wide resort. in , m. blanc, a famous gambler and saloon proprietor of two german cities, went to monaco, and for an immense sum of money received sole privilege to convert their province into a gambler's paradise. soon immense marble buildings arose in the midst of such beauty as to make it a modern rival of the gardens of ancient babylon. costly statues, gorgeous vases, graceful fountains, elegant basins, and beautiful terraces, all of which are made alluring by blooming plants, by light illuminations, and by free concerts of music day and night,--these are the attractions in this gambler's paradise. here fortunes are won and lost in a night. for, as has been sung, "dice will run the contrary way, as well is known to all who play, and cards will conspire as in treason." --hood. then we have the speculator in commerce. he is the denizen of the board of trade hall. he speculates on the prices of next week's, of next month's meat and breadstuffs. and still this sort of gambler may be a book-keeper in a bank, a farm hand, or a clerk in a grocery store. it ha become so simple and so common a practice for persons to speculate on the markets that any person with ten dollars, or twenty-five dollars, or a hundred dollars may take his chances. tens of thousands of dollars to-day are being swept into this silent whirlpool, the gambler's commerce. also we have the pool gambler. he is actuated by love of excitement. he is found at the race course, at the baseball diamond, and at all sorts of contests, where he may find opportunity to be on the outcome. it is a common thing for young men to steal their employers' money, for young girls to take their hard-earned wages to stake on games and races. recently $ , were paid for the exclusive gambling right for one year at the washington park races in chicago. last of all, we have the society gambler. he is growing numerous to-day. he is the same person, whether clad in full dress in the drawing-room of the worldling, or in common dress around the fireside of the unchristian church member. like the professional gambler his instrument is "cards," and he can shake the "dice." his games are whist, progressive euchre, and sometimes poker. the stakes now are not money, but the gratification of excitement and the indulgence of passion. one, two, four hours go by almost unnoticed. prizes are offered for the best player. as a catholic priest told me after he had won a small sum with cards. said he: "we just put up a few dollars, you know, to lend devotions to the game." so prizes are offered in the social gambling "to lend devotions to the game." it is under such circumstances as these that young men and young women receive their first lessons in card-playing. a passion for card-playing is called forth, developed, and must be satisfied, even though it takes one in low places among vile associates. "a christian gentleman came from england to this country. he brought with him $ , in money. he proposed to invest the money. part of it was his own; part of it was his mother's. he went into a christian church; was coldly received, and said to himself: 'well, if that is the kind of christian people they have in america, i don't want to associate with them much.' so he joined a card-playing party. he went with them from time to time. he went a little further on, and after a while he was in games of chance, and lost all of the $ , . worse than that, he lost all of his good morals; and on the night that he blew his brains out he wrote to the lady to whom he was affianced an apology for the crime he was about to commit, and saying in so many words, 'my first step to ruin was the joining of that card party.'" in all of its forms gambling is loaded down with evil. in the first place it destroys the incentive to honest work. let the average young man win a hundred dollars at the races, it will so turn his head against slow and honorable ways of getting money that he will watch for every opportunity to get it easily and abundantly. the young girl who risks fifty cents and gets back fifty dollars will no longer be of service as a quiet, contented worker. the spirit of speculation, the passion to get something for nothing, is calculated to destroy the incentive to honest toil and to honorable methods of gain. as one values his character, as he values his peace of mind, so should he zealously guard himself against overfascinating games of chance. once we had a family in our church who played cards, and who taught their children to play cards. of course these families had no time for prayer-meeting, nor for christian work. card-playing for amusement or for money will create a passion that must be satisfied, although one must give up home and business and pleasure. in a town where we once lived a young man and his wife attended our church. in every way the husband was kind, and attentive to business. but he had fallen a victim to playing cards for money. when that passion would seize him he would leave his business, his hired help, his home and wife and little one, and would lose himself for days at a time seeking to satisfy that passion. an enviable husband, father, citizen, and neighbor but for that evil; but how wretchedly that ruined all! dr. holland, of springfield, massachusetts, says: "i have all my days had a card-playing community open to my observation, and yet i am unable to believe that that which is the universal resort of starved soul and intellect, which has never in any way linked to itself tender, elevating, or beautiful associations, but, the tendency of which is to unduly absorb the attention from more weighty matters, can recommend itself to the favor of christ's disciples. i have this moment," says he, "ringing in my ears the dying injunction of my father's early friend: 'keep your son from cards. over them i have murdered time and lost heaven.'" gambling is dishonest. it seeks something for nothing. man possesses no money, that he might risk giving it to some rogue to waste in sin. all the property one possesses, he possesses it by stewardship to be used wisely and honestly for good. every age has needed a revival of the golden rule in business. much of the business of to-day is attended to on the dishonest principle that characterizes gambling, "get as much as possible for as little as possible." this spirit is first cousin to the spirit of gambling. the only difference is, one is called wrong and is wrong; the other is wrong and is called right. tell the gambler he is a thief; he will acknowledge it, and will beat you, if he can, while he is talking to you. tell the other man he is a thief, and he will sue you at court and win his case, although it is just as wrong to steal $ from an unbalanced mind, as it is to steal $ from an unlocked safe or off of an untrained football team. it will be an easy matter to produce professional gamblers so long as society upholds dishonest dealers by another name. what men need in this matter is moral and spiritual vision, spiritual discernment. some persons live by taking advantage of those who are down. in all of its forms gambling leads to a long train of crimes. in addition to his crime of theft the professional gambler, through passion or drink, becomes a murderer. i knew a professional gambler who killed a man, with whom he had been playing cards for money, for fifty cents. after it was all over the man was sorry he had done it, for he had committed the crime in a passion while he was intoxicated. the one who speculates on the markets is not counted dishonest by the world, but how often and how quickly it leads one into crime! in our neighboring town in illinois a man of a good family and of good standing in the community began to speculate on the chicago board of trade. he was as honest a person, perhaps, as you or i. he thought he was. for years he had been a trusted, christian worker, and treasurer of the sunday-school. but he made just one venture too many. he had lost all; could not even replace the sunday-school fund that he had simply used, no doubt expecting to replace it with usury; but the loss and disgrace were too much for him to face, so he deserted home and friends and honor and all, and secretly ran away. the speculating gambler became a deserting embezzler. the person who has acquired a passion for betting on races and games is on a fair way to professional gambling and to speculating on the markets. and rarely does one ever escape these, if once he gets a start in them. the evil of society gambling is most dangerous of all, because it is most subtle of all. ah first no one would suspect an innocent game of cards, played just for fun. you may be the fourth one to make up a game; you may not know how to play, but you are told you can quickly learn. you brave it, and go in for a game. the next time a similar circumstance arises, you can not easily decline, for you must confess you have played, and so you go in as an old player. this may be as far as the matter ever goes with you. but here is one who is more impulsive than you; his surroundings are entirely different. he learns to play, and comes to revel in it. a passion is created for the game. he is shrewd; soon learns the tricks, and one evening--purely by chance, as it seems to him--he wins his first five dollars. strange possibilities with cards lay hold upon him. he is consumed by that passion. he plays for business, for keeps; he has become a professional gambler. ah! this is no finespun tale; it is being worked out every year in our country, all over the world. among many things for which i have to thank my father and mother not the least is, that they would allow no gamblers, nor gambling, nor the instruments of gambling about our home. better keep a pet rattlesnake for your child than a deck of cards; for if he gets poisoned by the snake he may be cured; but if the passion for card-playing should happen to seize him, there is little chance of a cure. the inmates of our penitentiaries to-day, almost to a man, testify that "card-playing threw them into bad company, led them into sin, and was one of the causes of their downfall." dr. talmage was asked if there could be any harm in a pack of cards. he said: "instead of directly answering your question, i will give you as my opinion that there are thousands of men with as strong a brain as you have, who have gone through card-playing into games of chance, and have dropped down into the gambler's life and into the gambler's hell." a prisoner in a jail in michigan wrote a letter to a temperance paper, in which he gives this advice for young men: "let cards and liquor alone, and you will never be behind the gates." friends, not every one who touches liquor is a drunkard, but every drunkard touches liquor; so not every one who plays cards is a professional gambler, but every professional gambler plays cards. is there nothing significant about these facts. "a word to the wise is sufficient." "in a railway train sat four men playing cards. one was a judge, and two of the others were lawyers. near them sat a poor mother, a widow in black. the sight of the men at their game made her nervous. she kept quiet as long as she could; but finally rising came to them, and addressing the judge, asked: 'do you know me?' 'no, madam, i do not,' said he. 'well, said the mother, 'you sentenced my son to state's prison for life.' turning to one of the lawyers, she said: 'and you, sir, pleaded against him. he was all i had. he worked hard on the farm, was a good boy, and took care of me until he began to play cards, when he took to gambling and was lost.'" dr. guthrie writes: "in regard to the lawfulness of certain pursuits, pleasures, and amusements, it is impossible to lay down any fixed and general rule; but we may confidently say that whatever is found to unfit you for religious duties, or to interfere with the performance of them; whatever dissipates your mind or cools the fervor of your devotions; whatever indisposes you to read your bibles or to engage in prayer, wherever the thought of a bleeding savior, or of a holy god, or of the day of judgment falls like a cold shadow on your enjoyment, the pleasures you can not thank god for, on which you can not ask his blessing, whose recollections will haunt a dying bed and plant sharp thorns in its uneasy pillow,--these are not for you..never go where you can not ask god to go with you; never be found where you would not like death to find you. never indulge in any pleasure that will not bear the morning's reflection. keep yourselves unspotted from the world, not from its spots only, but even from its suspicions." iv. dancing. dancing is the expression of inward feelings by means of rhythmical movements of the body. usually these movements are in measured step, and are accompanied by music. in some form or another dancing is as old as the world, and has been practiced by rude as well as by civilized peoples. the passion for amateur dancing always has been strongest among savage nations, who have made equal use of it in religious rites and in war. with the savages the dancers work themselves into a perfect frenzy, into a kind of mental intoxication. but as civilization has advanced dancing has modified its form, becoming more orderly and rhythmical. the early greeks made the art of dancing into a system, expressive of all the different passions. for example, the dance of the furies, so represented, would create complete terror among those who witnessed them. the greek philosopher, aristotle, ranked dancing with poetry, and said that certain dancers, with rhythm applied to gesture, could express manners, passions, and actions. the most eminent greek sculptors studied the attitude of the dancers for their art of imitating the passions. in a classical greek song, apollo, one of the twelve greater gods, the son of zeus the chief god, and the god of medicine, music, and poetry, was called the dancer. in a greek line zeus himself is represented as dancing. in sparta, a province of ancient greece, the law compelled parents to exercise their children in dancing from the age of five years. they were led by grown men, and sang hymns and songs as they danced. in very early times a greek chorus, consisting of the whole population of the city, would meet in the market-place to offer up thanksgivings to the god of the country. their jubilees were always attended with hymn-singing and dancing. the jewish records make frequent mention of dancing, but always "as a religious ceremony, or as an expression of gratitude and praise." as a means of entertainment in private society, dancing was practiced in ancient times, but by professional dancers, and not by the company themselves. it is true that the bible has sanctioned dancing, but let us remember, first, that it was always a religious rite; second, that it was practiced only on joyful occasions, at national feasts, and after great victories; third, that usually it was "performed by maidens in the daytime, in open air, in highways, fields, or groves;" fourth, that "there are no instances of dancing sanctioned in the bible, in which both sexes united in the exercise, either as an act of worship or as an amusement;" fifth, that any who perverted the dance from a sacred use to purposes of amusement were called infamous. the only records in scripture of dancing as a social amusement were those of the ungodly families described by job xxi, - , who spent their time in luxury and gayety, and who came to a sudden destruction; and the dancing of herodias, matt. xiv, , which led to the rash vow of king herod and to the murder of john the baptist. so much for the history of dancing. the modern dance in which both sexes freely mingle, irrespective of character, purely for amusement, at late hours, at which intoxicants, in some form, are generally used, is, essentially, an institution of vice. the modern dance is as different from the dancing of ancient times, and from the dancing sanctioned in the bible, as daylight is from dark, as good is from bad. the modern dance imperils health, it poisons the social nature; it destroys intellectual growth; and it robs men and women of their virtue. let us understand one another. to attend one dance may not accomplish all of this in any person. one may attend many dances, and he himself not see these results marked in his character, but some one else will see them. for in the nature of the institution the modern dance affects in all these particulars those whom it reaches. the tendencies in a single dance are in these directions. in a way peculiar to itself the modern dance imperils health. though detestable and out of date, as are the modern kissing games, yet no one ever heard of one of those performances continuing until three and five o'clock in the morning. young people do not stay up all night, ride five, ten, and twenty miles to play authors, or to snap caroms, or to play charades, as interesting in a social way as these innocent amusements may be. the fact that one will go to this extreme in keeping late hours to attend the dance, and will not keep such late hours for any other form of amusement, proves that the dance, as an institution, is at fault in producing such irregularities. and then who ever heard of one having to dress in a certain way to attend a purely social gathering. but let a young lady attend a fashionable ball or a regular round dance of any note, whatever, and if she wears the civil gown she will be thought tame and snubbed. she must dress for this occasion, and thus, from a health point of view, so expose her body that after the excitement and heat of a prolonged round she takes her place in a slight draught of air, and a severe cold is contracted. and this exposure is further increased by the sudden change from a close, hot room to the damp, chilly air of the early morning, on her journey home. it is possible to guard against all of this, but are those persons who attend such exercises likely to be cautious in such practical matters. at least, this risk of exposure for men and women is peculiar to the dance, and it is certain that many are physically injured in this way. the modern dance poisons the social nature. the chief exercise at the modern dance is dancing. those who have attended dances, as a social recreation, have complained that they never have an opportunity to get acquainted with one another. such a luxury as a complete conversation on any theme is out of the question. it is a form of amusement that stultifies the communicative faculties, and fosters social seclusion. some one might say this may be a good thing, since every grade in moral and social standing are represented. yes, but this only acknowledges the lack of opportunity for social fellowship. it is not true that the dance, as an institution, is not patronized by the most capable in conversation and companionship? certainly this is true in the so-called higher society, among those whose sole ambition is to excel in formal manners and in personal appearance at the gay function, and at the social ball. to be communicative one must have something to communicate, and this means a cultivation of the mind and heart. true social fellowship is one of the sweetest pleasures of life and always has its source in the culture of the soul. whatever may be said for or against the modern dance, it is true that because of the mixed characters of its attendants, and for want of opportunity to communicate, the social nature becomes neglected and abused, and may be fatally poisoned. the modern dance destroys intellectual growth. the person who has the dance-craze cares no more for mental improvement and growth than a starving man cares for splendid recipes for fine cooking. the thought of a problem to be solved, of a book to be read, of an organ exercise to be practiced, of all things, are most tame to the one who is filled with dreams of the last dance, and with visions of the one that is to come. to grow, the mind must be free from excitement. the fault with the dance in this respect is that it has in it a fascination that does not exist in the ordinary social amusement. some persons complain that they can not get an evening to go off well without dancing. but this is only an open confession to mental vacuity, to intellectual poverty. for one need know but little to flourish at the dance. and always, where little is required, intellectually, little is given. it is the rule that those who are in the greatest need of mental cultivation and growth are those who make up the dancing crowd. and the fact that the dance, as an institution, in no way stimulates intellectual thought, destines those who dance to remain on the lower intellectual plane. last, and worst of all, the dance robs men and women of their virtue, and this often at the first unconsciously. if it is not for health and physical vigor that one follows up dancing; if it is not the peculiar social tie that binds dancers together; if it is not the incentive to intellectual growth and equipment, what is it? a secret lies hid away somewhere in the institution of the modern dance, that makes it the chiefest attraction of worldly-minded and often of base-hearted people. what is that secret? ah, my friend, it is the appeal to the most sacred instincts and passions of a man and of a woman! this appeal is peculiar to the modern dance by the accident of physical contact that men and women assume in dancing, and also by the circumstances that attend it, namely, mixed society, late hours, and the customary use of strong drink. no honest, normally passionate person, who has made it a practice of attending dances, will deny the truth of this charge. one may never have thought of it in this way, but when he stops to think he knows that it is true. it is through ignorance of these circumstances, and of their bad effects, that many a well-meaning person, presumably to have a good time, or to acquire heel-grace, goes into the dance, secures a passion for dancing, and through its seductive influences are led into sin and shame. the following is an incident out of his own experience related by professor t. a. faulkner, an ex-dancing master. professor faulkner is the author of the little book entitled "from the ball room to hell." a book which every person who sees no harm in dancing should read. "here is a girl. the one remaining child of wealthy parents, their idol and joy. a dancing-school having opened near their home, the daughter, for accomplishment, was sent to it. she came from her home, modest, and her innate spirit of purity rebelled against the liberties taken by the dancing-master, and the men he introduced to her. she became indignant at the indecent attitudes she was called upon to assume, but noticing a score of young women, many of them from the best homes in the town, all yielding to the vulgar embrace, she cast aside that spirit of modesty which had been the development of years of home-training, and setting her face against nature's protective warnings, gave herself, as did the others, to this prolonged embrace set to music. having learned to dance, its fascinations led her an enthusiastic captive. modesty was crucified, decency outraged, virtue lost its power over her soul, and she spent her days dreaming of the delights of the sensual whirl of the evening. hardly conscious of the change she had now become as bold as any of the women, and loved the embrace of the charmer. the graduation of the class was, of course, the occasion of a waltzing reception. to that reception she went, attended by her father, who looked with a proud heart on the fulsome greeting his dear one received. after a little the father retired, leaving his daughter to the care of the many handsome gallants who danced attendance upon her. the reception did not close until the small hours of the morning. each waltz became more voluptuous; intoxicated by sensuality, the dancers became more bold, and lust was aroused in every breast. how many sins that reception occasioned, i do not know; this, at least, is sure, that this girl who entered that dancing-hall three months before, as pure as an angel, was that night.robbed of her honor and returned to her home deprived forever of that most precious jewel of womanhood--virtue. her first impulse the next morning was self-destruction; then she deluded herself with the thought of marriage with her dancing companion, but he still further insulted her by declaring that he wanted a pure woman for his wife. what was her end? shunned by the very society which egged her on to ruin, her self-respect was gone with her lost purity, she went to her own kind, and in shame is closing her days." "of two hundred brothel inmates to whom professor faulkner talked, and who were frank enough to answer his question as to the direct cause of their shame, seven said poverty and abuse; ten, willful choice; twenty, drink given them by their parents; and one hundred and sixty-three, dancing and the ball-room." "a former chief of police of new york city says that three-fourths of the abandoned girls of this city were ruined by dancing." of the dance, one says: "it lays its lecherous hand upon the fair character of innocence, and converts it into a putrid corrupting thing. it enters the domain of virtue, and with silent, steady blows takes the foundation from underneath the pedestal on which it sits enthroned. it lists the gate and lets in a flood of vice and impurity that sweeps away modesty, chastity, and all sense of shame. it keeps company with the low, the degraded, and the vile. it feeds upon the passion it inflames, and fattens on the holiest sentiments, turned by its touch to filth and rottenness. it loves the haunts of vice, and is at home in the company of harlots and debauchees." george t. lemon says: "no church in christendom commends or even excuses the dance. all unite to condemn it." the late episcopal bishop of vermont, writes: "dancing is chargeable with waste of time, interruption of useful study, the indulgence of personal vanity and display, and the premature incitement of the passions. at the age of maturity it adds to these no small danger to health by late hours, flimsy dress, heated rooms, and exposed persons." episcopal bishop meade, of virginia, declares: "social dancing is not among the neutral things which, within certain limits, we may do at pleasure, and it is not among the things lawful, but not expedient, but it is in itself wrong, improper, and of bad effect." episcopal bishop mcilvaine, of ohio, putting the dance and the theater together, writes: "the only line that i would draw in regard to these is that of entire exclusion..the question is not what we can imagine them to be, but what they always have been, will be, and must be, in such a world as this, to render them pleasurable to those who patronize them. strip them bare until they stand in the simple innocence to which their defenders' arguments would reduce them and the world would not have them." a roman catholic priest testifies that "the confessional revealed the fact that nineteen out of every twenty women who fall can trace the beginning of their state to the modern dance." v. theater-going. with drunkenness, gambling, and dancing, theater-going dates from the beginning of history, and with these it is not only questionable in morals, but it is positively bad. every one who knows any thing about the institution of the theater, as such, knows that it always has been corrupting in its influence. not only those who attend the theater pronounce it bad, as a whole, but it is frowned upon by play-writers, and by actors and actresses themselves. five hundred years before christ, jew, pagan, and christian spoke against the theater. it is stated on good authority that the dissipations of the theater were the chief cause of the decadence of ancient greece. at one time, augustus, the emperor of rome, was asked as a means of public safety, to suppress the theater. the early christians held the theater in such bad repute as to rank it with the heathen temple. and to these two places they would not go, even to preach the good news of jesus christ. nor has the moral tone and character of the theater improved, even in our day. dr. theodore cuyler, for many years an experienced pastor in brooklyn, says: "the american theater is a concrete institution, to be judged as a totality. it is responsible for what it tolerates and shelters. we, therefore, hold it responsible for whatever of sensual impurity and whatever of irreligion, as well as for whatever of occasional and sporadic benefit there may be bound up in its organic life. instead of helping christ's kingdom, it hinders; instead of saving souls, it corrupts and destroys." dr. buckley gives this testimony: "being aware of the fact that the drama, like every thing else which caters to the taste, has its fashions--rising and falling and undergoing various changes--now improving, and then degenerating, i have thought it desirable to institute a careful inquiry into the plays which have been performed in the principal theaters of new york during the past three years. accordingly, i procured the copies used by the performers in preparing for their parts, and took pains to ascertain wherein, in actual use, the actors diverged from the printed copies. they number over sixty, and, with the exception of a few unprinted plays, include all that have been produced in the prominent theaters of new york during the three years now about closing..it is a singular fact, that, with three or four exceptions, those dramatic compositions, among the sixty or more under discussion, which are morally objectionable, are of a comparatively low order of literary execution. but if language and sentiments, which would not be tolerated among respectable people, and would excite indignation if addressed to the most uncultivated and coarse servant girl, not openly vicious, by an ordinary young man, and profaneness which would brand him who uttered it as irreligious, are improper amusements for the young and for christians of every age, then at least fifty of these plays are to be condemned." in the first place the theater leads one into bad company. as a class, the performers are licentious. how can one be in their company, be moved to laughter and to tears and not be contaminated by them? one who has studied the theater tells us that the "fruits of the spirit and the fruits of the stage exhibit as pointed a contrast as the human imagination can conceive." the famous macready, as he retired from the stage, wrote: "none of my children, with my consent under any pretense, shall ever enter the theater, nor shall they have any visiting connection with play actors or actresses." dr. johnson asks the question: "how can they mingle together as they do, men and women, and make public exhibitions of themselves as they do, in such circumstances, with such surroundings, with such speech as much often be on their lips to play the plays that are written, in such positions as they must sometimes take, affecting such sentiment and passions--how can they do this without moral contamination?" and we would ask, how can persons live enrapt with this sort of thing for hours and hours each week, the year around, and not become equally contaminated, for to the onlooker all this comes as a reality, while to those who are performing, it is hired shamming? therefore, as the pupil becomes the teacher, so the attendant at the theater becomes like the one who performs. so that to go to the theater is to "sit in the seat of the scornful or to stand in the way of sinners." "there you find the man," says one, "who has lost all love for his home, the careless, the profane, the spendthrift, the drunkard, and the lowest prostitute of the street. they are found in all parts of the house; they crowd the gallery, and together should aloud the applause, greeting that which caricatures religion, sneers at virtue, or hints at indecency." not only the actors and the onlookers of the average theater are vile, but all of the immediate associations of the playhouse must correspond with it. if not in the same building with the theater, in adjoining ones, at least, are found the wine-parlor and the brothel. it is generally conceded that no theater can be prosperous if it is wholly separated from these adjuncts of evil. the theater, therefore, kills spiritually and degrades the moral life of the one who attends it. the theater deals with the spectacular. this appeals to the eye, to the ear, and to all of the outer senses. spirituality depends upon a cultivation of the spiritual senses that grace has opened up within the soul. hence, the spectacular is directly opposed to the spiritual. the deep, contemplative, spiritual soul could find little or no food in the false, clap-trap representations of the modern stage. and to find an increased interest here is evidence that one lacks spiritual life, at least deep-seated spiritual life. this is why so many professing christians are so eager to go to the card-party, to the dancing-party, and to the theater. the inner-sense life of the soul is dead, and one must have something upon which to feed, hence he feeds upon the husks of "imprudent and un-christian amusements." and let one who has a measure of spiritual life, instead of increasing it, seek to satisfy his soul-longing by means of the spectacular, of false representations in any form, soon he will lose the spiritual life that he has. and this loss will be marked by an increased demand for the spectacular. the surest proof to-day that the spiritual life of the church is waning in certain sections, is not so much that her membership-roll is not on the increase, but that professing christian people are running wild after cards and dancing and the theater. evangelist sayles declares: "the people of our so-called best society, and christian people, many that have been looked upon as active workers, sit now and gaze upon scenes in our theaters, without a blush, that twenty-five years ago would not have been countenanced..the moral and spiritual life of many a christian has been weakened by the eyes gazing upon the scenes of the theater." says he, "the christian, through attendance upon the playhouse, creates a relish for worldly things, and so spiritual things become distasteful." then, to go to one theater, sanctions all. to have heard and to have seen joe jefferson in "rip van winkle," richard mansfield in "the merchant of venice," or edwin booth or sir henry irving, or maude adams, or julia marlowe in their best plays, is to have received a deeper insight into human nature, and a stronger purpose to become sympathetic and true, but who can afford to sanction all that is base and villainous is the institution of the modern theater for the sake of learning sympathy and truth and human nature from a few worthy actors, when he may find all of this as truthfully, if not as artistically, set forth by the orator, by the musician, by the painter, and by the author? it is not cant, it is not pharisaism, it is not a weak claim of christianity, but it is common honesty, mighty truth, a cardinal and beautiful teaching of jesus christ to deny one's self for the welfare of the weaker brother. let one go to hear mansfield in shakespeare, and his neighbor boy will take his friend and go to the vaudeville, and his only excuse to his parents and to his half-taught mind and heart will be, "well, mr. so-and-so goes to the theater, he is a member of the church and superintendent of the sunday-school; surely there is no harm for me to go." to the immature mind what seems right for one person seems lawful for another. this is because such a person has not learned to discriminate between what is bad and what is good. therefore, if the theater as an institution has more in it that is bad than it has in it that is good, rather if the general tendency of the theater, as an institution, is bad, the safe thing for one's self and for those who read one's life as an example, is to discard it entirely. in view of these facts, no person can attend the theater at all without hurting his influence. the ideal life is that one which gives offense of stumbling to no one. a successful preacher who had an aversion toward speaking on the subject of questionable amusements, when asked what he believed concerning a certain form of amusement, replied: "see what i do, and know what i believe." it is a glorious life whose actions are an open epistle of righteousness and peace, read and believed and honored by all men. "some time ago a gentleman teaching a large class of young men in a chicago sunday-school, desired to attend a theater for the purpose of seeing a celebrated actor. he was not a theater-goer, and thought that no harm could come from it. he had no sooner taken his seat, however, than he saw in the opposite gallery some of the members of his class. they also saw him and began commenting on the fact that their teacher was at the theater. they thought it inconsistent in him, lost their interest in the class, and he lost his influence over the young men. that teacher tied his hands by this one act, so that he could not speak out against the gross sins of the theater." those who defend theater-going say that if christian people would patronize the theater that it would be made more respectable. but over a thousand years of history proves that this principle fails here as it does elsewhere. a christian woman marries an unchristian man with the hope that he will become a christian; a steady, sensible woman in all other matters marries a man who drinks, with the thought of reforming him; one associates with worldly and sensual companions, expecting to make them better; but, alas, what blasted hopes, what wretched failures in all of these instances, at least in the most of them! you can not reform vice; you may whitewash a sin, but it will be sin, still. to purify a character or an institution one must not become a part of it by sympathy, nor by association. this is what the psalmist meant when he said, "blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsels of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful." and so it is, that every effort at reforming the theater, thus far has failed. the rev. c.w. winchester says concerning the reforming of the theater: "the facts are, ( ) that the theater in this city and country never had the support and encouragement of moral and religious people it has now; ( ) that the theater here was never so bad. clearly, if christian patronage is going to reform the theater, the reform ought to begin. but the grade is downward. the theater is growing worse and worse." dr. wilkinson makes this statement on the question of reforming the theater: "now the protestant christians of new york number, by recent computation, less than seventy-five thousand souls, in a population of a million. supposing a general agreement among them all that a regular attendance at the theater was at this juncture the most pressing and most promising method of evangelical effort, they would not then constitute even one-tenth of the numerical patronage which the management would study to please." dr. herrick johnson says: "the ideal stage is out of the question. it is out of the question just as pure, chaste, human nudity is out of the question..the nature of theatrical performances, the essential demands of the stage, the character of the plays, and the constitution of human nature, make it impossible that the theater should exist, save under a law of degeneracy. its trend is downward; its centuries of history tell just this one story. the actual stage of to-day..is a moral abomination. in chicago, at least, it is trampling on the sabbath with defiant scoff. it is defiling our youth. it is making crowds familiar with the play of criminal passions. it is exhibiting women with such approaches to nakedness as can have no other design than to breed lust behind the onlooking eyes. it is furnishing candidates for the brothel. it is getting us used to scenes that rival the voluptuousness and licentious ages of the past." as never before to-day, has the theater asked for the support of church members. and the ideal stage, with virtuous performers, and with pure dramas, are held up as a sample of what christian people are invited to attend. dr. cuyler says: "every person of common sense knows that the actual average theater is no more an ideal playhouse than the average pope is like st. peter, or the average politician is like abraham lincoln. a puritanic theater would become bankrupt in a twelvemonth. the great mass of those who frequent the playhouse go there for strong, passionate excitements..i do not affirm," says dr. cuyler, "that every popular play is immoral, and every attendant is on a scent for sensualities. but the theater is a concrete institution, it must be judged in the gross and to a tremendous extent it is only a gilded nastiness. it unsexes womanhood by putting her publicly in male attire--too often in no attire at all." "so competent an authority as the famous actress, olga nethersole, recently declared that the only kind of play which may hope for success with english-speaking audiences at the present day is the play which is sufficiently indicated by calling it immoral. there is no doubt about it that the theater, as at present conducted, is pulling the stones from the foundations of public morality, and weakening, and in many quarters endangering, the whole structure of society. the atmosphere of the modern theater is lustful and irreverent. it is a good place for christians to keep away from. it is a good opportunity for the strong man to deny himself for the sake of his younger or weaker brother." part ii. worthy substitutes. "get the spindle and thy distaff ready, and god will send thee flax." vi. books and reading. many books, much reading. to-day every one reads. go where you may, you will find the paper, the magazine, the journal; printed letters, official reports, exhaustive cyclopedias, universal histories; the ingenuous advertisement, the voluminous calendar, the decorated symphony; printed ideals, elaborate gaming rules, flaming bulletins; and latest of all, we have begun to publish our communications on the waves of the air. in this hurly-burly of many books and much reading, it is no mean problem to know why one should read; and what, and how, and when. especially does this problem of general reading confront the student, the lover of books, and those of the professions. essays are to be read, the historical, the philosophical, and the scientific; novels, the historical and the religious; books of devotion, books of biography, of travel, of criticism, and of art. what principles are to guide one in his choice of reading, that he may select only the wisest, purest, and helpfulest from all these classes of books? why read. read to acquire knowledge. knowledge is the perception of truth. one arrives at knowledge by the assimilation of facts and principles, or by the assimilation of truth itself. three sources of knowledge are experience, conversation, and reading. experience leads one slowly to knowledge, is limited entirely to the path over which one has passed, and is a "dear teacher." to acquire knowledge by conversation is to put one at the mercy of his associates, making him dependent upon their good favor, truthfulness, and learning. but reading places one in direct communication with the wisest and best persons of all time. to acquire knowledge by reading is to defy time and space, persons and circumstances, at least, in our day of many and inexpensive books. through books facts live, principles operate, justice acts, the light of philosophy gleams, wit flashes, god speaks. every book-lover agrees with channing: "no matter how poor i am..if the sacred writers will enter and take up their abode under my roof, if milton will cross my threshold to sing to me of paradise, and shakespeare to open to me the words of imagination and the workings of the human heart, and franklin to enrich me with his practical wisdom, i shall not pine for want of intellectual companionship, and i may become a cultivated man, though excluded from what is called the best society in the place where i live." kingsley says: "except a living man, there is nothing more wonderful than a book!--a message to us from the dead,--from human souls whom we never saw, who lived, perhaps, thousands of miles away; and yet these, in those little sheets of paper, speak to us, amuse us, terrify us, teach us, comfort us, open their hearts to us as brothers..if they are good and true, whether they are about religion or politics, farming, trade, or medicine, they are the message of christ, the maker of all things, the teacher of all truth." the wide range of truth secured through reading acts in two ways upon the reader. it spiritualizes his character, and it makes him mighty in action. knowledge on almost any subject has a marked tendency to sharpen one's wits, to refine his tastes, to ennoble his spirit, to improve his judgement, to strengthen his will, to subdue his baser passions, and to fill his soul with the breath of life. it is only upon truth that the soul feeds, and by means of knowledge that the character grows. "it cannot be that people should grow in grace," writes john wesley, "unless they give themselves to reading. a reading people will always be a knowing people." reading makes one mighty in action when it gives one knowledge, since "knowledge is power," and since power has but one way of showing itself, and that is, in action. knowledge takes no note of hardships, ignores fatigue, laughs at disappointment, and frowns upon despair. it delves into the earth, rides upon the air, defies the cold of the north, the heat of the south; it stands upon the brink of the spitting volcano, circumnavigates the globe, examines the heavens, and tries to understand god. with but few exceptions, master-minds and men of affairs have been incessant readers. cicero, chief of roman orators, whether at home or abroad, in town or in the country, by day or by night, in youth or in old age, in sorrow or in joy, was not without his books. "petrarch, when his friend the bishop, thinking that he was overworked, took away the key of his library, was restless and miserable the first day, had a bad headache the second, and was so ill by the third day that the bishop, in alarm, returned the key and let his friend read as much as he liked." writes frederick the great, "my latest passion will be for literature." the poet, milton, while a child, read and studied until midnight. john ruskin read at four years of age, was a book-worm at five, and wrote numerous poems and dramas before he was ten. lord macaulay read at three and began a compendium of universal history at seven. although not a lover of books, george washington early read matthew hale and became a master in thought. benjamin franklin would sit up all night at his books. thomas jefferson read fifteen hour a day. patrick henry read for employment, and kept store for pastime. daniel webster was a devouring reader, and retained all that he read. at the age of fourteen he could repeat from memory all of watt's hymns and pope's "essay on man." when but a youth, henry clay read books of history and science and practiced giving their contents before the trees, birds, and horses. says a biographer of lincoln, "a book was almost always his inseparable companion." then, read for enjoyment. fortunately, a habit so valuable as reading may grow to become a pleasure. so that as one is gathering useful information and increasing in knowledge, he may have the keenest enjoyment. such an one sings as he works. he has learned to convert drudgery into joy; duty has become delight. but even for such an one a portion of his reading should be purely for rest and recreation. if one has taught school all day, or set type, or managed a home, or read history, or labored in the field, or been shopping, heavy, solid reading may be out of the question, while under such circumstances one would really enjoy a striking allegory or a well-written novel. or, if one is limited in knowledge, or deficient in literary taste so that he may find no interest in history, science, philosophy, or religion, still he may enjoy thrilling books of travel, of biography, or of entertaining story. in this way all may enjoy reading. "of all the amusements which can possibly be imagined for a hard-working man, after his daily toil, or in its intervals, there is nothing," says herschel, "like reading an interesting book. it calls for no bodily exercise, of which he has had enough or too much. it relieves his home of its dullness and sameness, which, in nine cases out of ten, is what drives him out to the alehouse, to his own ruin and his family's. it accompanies him to his next day's work, and, if the book he has been reading be any thing above the very idlest and lightest, gives him something to think of besides the mere mechanical drudgery of his every-day occupation, something he can enjoy while absent, and look forward with pleasure to return to." what to read. first of all read something. "southey tells us that, in his walk one stormy day, he met an old woman, to whom, by way of greeting, he made the rather obvious remark that it was dreadful weather. she answered, philosophically, that in her opinion, 'any weather was better than none.'" and so we would say, excluding corrupt literature, any reading is better than none! in this day of multiplicity of books who who never reads may not be an ignoramus nor a fool, but certainly he robs the world of much that is useful in character, and deprives himself of much that enriches his own soul. then one should select his books, as he does his associates, and not attempt to read everything that comes in his way. no longer may one know even a little about every thing. it might be a mark of credit rather than an embarrassment for one to answer, "no," to the question, "have you read the latest book?" when the fact is recalled that , novels have been published within the past eighty years, and that five new ones are added to the list daily. read history. one has characterized history as both the background and the key to all knowledge. no other class of reading so much as this helps one to appreciate his own country, his own age, his own surroundings. extensive reading of history is a sure remedy for pessimism, prejudice, and fanaticism. in so far as history is an accurate account of the past, it is a true prophecy of the future for the nation and for the individual. who reads history knows that men always have displayed folly, weakness, and cruelty, and that they always will, even to their own obvious ruin. also he knows that every time and place have had their few good men and women who have honored god, and whom god has honored. nothing so teaches a person his own insignificance and the small part that he plays in the world as does the reading of history. nor is history to be found only in the book called history. if you want to know the life of the ancients, as you know the life of your own community, read josephus. do you want a glimpse of early apostolic times, read "the life and times of jesus," by edersheim. do you want to see the battlefield of waterloo, visit paris in the beginning of the nineteenth century, stop over night with louis philippe, see the english through french spectacles, and the frenchman through his own; do you want a glimpse of the political despotism, court intrigue, and ecclesiastical tyranny in france a hundred years ago; do you want to hear the crash of the bastile, and see notre dame converted into a horse-stable; do you want a picture of the "bread riots" and mob violence that terminated in the french revolution of ; in short do you want a tale of french life and character in its brightest, gloomiest, and intensest period, read "les miserables," by victor hugo. to-day one must read current history. it is not enough to plan, work, and economize, one must make and seize opportunities. and this he can do only as he is alive to passing events. in a few years one may outgrow his usefulness through losing touch with advancing ideas and methods of work. to keep abreast of the times one must read the newspaper and the magazine. the newspaper is the history of the hour, the magazine is the history of the day. the magazine corrects the newspaper, and "sums up in clear and noble phrase those fundamental facts which are only dimly seen in the newspaper." a serious and growing tendency is that the newspaper and magazine shall take the place of the best books. a few minutes a day is enough for any newspaper, and a few hours a month is enough for any magazine. the greatest part of one's reading should be that of books. who gormandizes on current events will pay the price with a morbid mind and with false conclusions in his reasoning. read biography. the life of a great man is a continual inspiration. no other exercise so fires a soul with noble ambition as the study of a great life. real life is not only stranger than fiction, but it is more interesting than fiction. no boy should be without the life of washington, of lincoln, of webster, of franklin. every girl should know by heart brave pocahontas, sympathetic mrs. stowe, queenly frances willard, and kind-hearted victoria. no private library is complete without plutarch's "lives," the "life of alfred the great," of napoleon, grant, and gladstone. read science. the fourteen-year-old child may master the practical principles of natural philosophy, and yet how many intelligent persons remain ignorant of the most commonplace truths in this branch of learning! with a little attention to the natural and mechanical sciences, a new world of beauty and truth opens up before one. he sees objects that once were hid to him; he hears sounds that once were silent; he enjoys odors that once retained their fragrance. his whole being becomes a part of the living musical world about him, when he has his senses opened to appreciate it and to become attuned to it. one should read some science throughout his life, in order to remain at the source of all true knowledge. here he learns to appreciate the language of nature. when expressed by man, this is poetry. therefore, read poetry. ten minutes a day with tennyson, browning, emerson, or lowell, will teach one a new language, by which he may converse with the wind, talk with the birds, chat with the brook, speak with the flowers, and hold discourse with the sun, moon, and stars. the deepest and mightiest thoughts of all ages have been expressed in poetry, the language of nature. "poetry," says coleridge, "is the blossom and fragrance of all human knowledge, human thoughts, passions, emotions, languages." read books of religion. "religion," says lyman abbott, "is the life of god in the soul." every truly religious book treats of this life. the only purely religious book is the bible. it is the source and inspiration of every other religious book. the bible is a "letter from god to man, handed down from heaven and written by inspired men." its message is free salvation for all men through jesus christ; its spirit is divine love. no wise person is without this letter, and every thoughtful and devout person reads it daily. one may never find time to follow a course of study, nor to pursue a plan of daily reading; he may never know the wealth of dante, the grandeur of milton, nor the genius of shakespeare, but every one may make the bible his daily companion and guide. how to read. enter into what you read. no book can thrill and move one unless he gives himself up to it. lack of fixed attention is the cause of the half-informed mind, the faulty reason, and the ever-failing memory. the cause of this lack of attention may be an historical allusion of which one is ignorant, or a new word that he fails to look up, or an overtaxed mind, or unfavorable surroundings. whatever may be this hindrance it must be removed or overcome before one can enter into what he reads. a thought is of no value until it registers itself and takes a room in the mind. this is why we are told on every hand, that a few books well read are worth more than many books poorly read. the secret of abraham lincoln's power as a public speaker lay in his clear reasoning, simple statement, and apt illustration. this secret was secured by lincoln through his habit of mastering whatever he heard in conversation or reading. "when a mere child," says lincoln, "i used to get irritated when anybody talked to me in a way i could not understand. i don't think i ever got angry at anything else in my life. but that always disturbed my temper, and has ever since. i can remember going to my little bedroom, after hearing the neighbors talk of an evening with my father, and spending no small part of the night walking up and down, trying to make out what was the exact meaning of some of their, to me, dark sayings. i could not sleep, though i often tried to, when i got on such a hunt after an idea, until i had caught it, and when i thought i had got it, i was not satisfied until i had repeated it over and over; until i had put it in language plain enough, as i thought, for any boy i knew to comprehend. this was a kind of passion with me, and it has stuck by me; for i am never easy now when i am handling a thought until i have bounded it north, and bounded it south, and bounded it east, and bounded it west." and so to enter into what one reads, means that he will master the thought. the most that a university can do for one is to teach him to read. who has learned how to read has secured a liberal education, however or wherever he may have learned it. then, one should learn to scan an author. this means to take a rapid observation of his thoughts. much of one's common reading matter should be scanned. all local news, much magazine literature, and many books should be used in this way. it is mental sloth and waste of time to pore over a newspaper or a book of light fiction, as one would a philosophy of history or a work of science. as bacon aptly puts it, "some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others." one's mind is like a horse, it soon learns its master. feed it well, groom it well, treat it gently, you may expect much from it. it is reported of dr. newell dwight hillis that he has read a book a day for over twenty years. he has learned to squeeze the thought out of a book at a grasp, as one of us would squeeze the juice from an orange. take a glimpse into his library. five hundred volumes of sociological literature, four hundred volumes of history, two hundred of cyclopedias, gazetteers, books of reference; four hundred volumes of pure science, one hundred volumes of travels, two hundred and fifty volumes of biography; one hundred volumes of art and art history; a section on psychology, ethics, philosophy, and the relation between science and religion, and a thousand volumes of literature, pure and simple. when to read. first, read at regular hours. this is for those who follow literary pursuits. no professional person should respect himself in his work who has no special time for reading and study, and who does not conscientiously adhere to it. the pulpit, the law-office, the doctor's office, the teacher, and the editor's desk, each clamors for the man, the woman, who can think. to appreciate god and to sympathize with the human heart; to know law and the intricate special case; to understand disease and relief for the suffering patient; to have something to teach and to know how to teach it even to the dullest pupil; to know human character and to be able to enlighten the public mind and the public conscience; all this requires in the one who serves a deep and growing knowledge and experience which may be realized only in the grasp of truth contained in the up-to-date and best authorized books. the use of books with this class of persons is not optional. they must buy and master them, or a few years at longest will relegate them with their old books and ideas to the dusty garret where they belong. then, many must read on economized time. the farmer, the mechanic, the merchant, the shopkeeper, each may find a little time for daily reading. ten minutes saved in the morning, ten minutes in the afternoon, and ten minutes in the evening, this is half hour a day. in a week this gives one three hours and a half, in a month fourteen hours of solid reading, and in a year one will have read seven days of twenty-four hours each. think of what may be accomplished in an average lifetime in common reading by the busiest person, who really wants to read. "schliemann," the noted german scholar and author, "as a boy, standing in line at the post-office waiting his turn for the mail, utilized the time by studying greek from a little pocket grammar." "mary somerfield, the astronomer, while busy with her children in the nursery, wrote her 'mechanism of the heavens,' without neglecting her duties as a mother." "julius caesar, while a military officer and politician found time to write his commentaries known throughout the world." william cobbett says: "i learned grammar when i was a private soldier on a six-pence a day. the edge of my guard-bed was my seat to study in, my knapsack was my bookcase, and a board lying on my lap was my desk. i had no moment at that time that i could call my own; and i had to read and write among the talking, singing, whistling, and bawling of at least half a score of the most thoughtless of men." among those whom we all know who have risen out of obscurity to eminence through a wise economy of time which they have used in reading and study, are, patrick henry, benjamin west, eli whitney, james watt, richard baxter, roger sherman, sir isaac newton, and benjamin franklin. vii. social recreation. defined. the normal young person who does not dissipate is bursting with life. the natural child is activity embodied. the healthful old person craves exercise. life, activity, exercise, each must have some method of spending itself. some normal method, some right method, some attractive method must be chosen. by normal method we mean that which calls into use the varied faculties and powers of the entire being, body, mind, and heart. by right method we mean that which does not crush out a part of one's being, while another part is being developed. by attractive method in the use of life, activity, exercise, we mean that which appeals to one's peculiar desires, tastes, and circumstances, so long as these are normal and right. some chosen profession, trade, or work is the rightful heritage of every person. each man, woman, and child should know when he gets up of a morning, what his work is for that day. consciously, or unconsciously, he should have some outline of work, some end in view, some goal toward which he is stretching himself. dr. j. m. buckley asks: "have you a purpose and a plan?" and answers, "life is worth nothing till then." the child is in the hands of his parent, his teacher, his guardian. these must answer to destiny for his beginning and growth. "satan finds something for idle hands to do." hence the necessity of vigilance on the part of those who hold the young. but "all work and no play, makes jack a dull boy." this rule is good whether "jack" be a puny girl, a feeble grandfather, a hustling, responsible father, a busy mother, or even a mischievous lad. every person who rises each morning, dresses himself and goes about his work as if he knew what he were about; who has some useful work to do, and does it, sooner or later, needs rest. true, night comes and one may rest. and sweet is the rest of sleep; a third of one's life is passed in this way. sancho panza has it right when he says: "now blessing light on him that first invented sleep! it covers a man all over, thoughts and all, like a cloak; it is meat for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for the cold, and cold for the hot." but one craves a recreation, a rest which work nor sleep can give. man has a social nature, a longing to mingle with his acquaintances and friends. let one be shut in with work, or sickness, or weather, for whole days at a time, and see how hungry he gets to see some one. a recreation at a social gathering literally makes a new being out of him. he is recreated. it is this form of recreation that we consider here, social recreation. a necessity. social recreation is a necessity in a well-ordered life. as with many other common blessings we forget its benefits. nor are these benefits so evident until we see the blighting result in the life of the one who, for any reason whatsoever, has become a social recluse. we have known a few persons who have once been in society, but who have allowed themselves to remain away from all sorts of gatherings, for a number of years. in every case, the result has been openly noticeable. they have become boorish in manners, unsympathetic in nature, and suspicious in spirit. thus they have grown out of harmony with the ideas and ways of those about them, have come to take distorted and erroneous views of affairs and of men. man is a composite being. many factors enter into his make-up. he lives not only in the physical and intellectual, in the religious and social, in a local and limited sense, but his life expands until it touches and molds many other characters and communities besides his own. in all of these spheres of his influence and work on needs to be sobered down, corrected, stimulated. in no other way is this better accomplished than through one's very contact with his fellows in the religious gathering, among his workmen, in the political meeting, at the assembly, in the social gathering whenever and wherever persons may see one another and talk over common interests. a specific sense. in a specific sense, by social recreation, we mean those pastimes and pleasures which all persons, except the social recluse, enjoy as they meet to spend an afternoon or an evening together. now, how may we get the largest amount of pleasure, of rest, of recreation from such gatherings? how may we best benefit ourselves, inspire one another, and in it all, honor god? it is no small task to accomplish these three ends in all things, in one's life. we have agreed that some social practices are positively bad. and we have tried to show why the "tobacco club," the "social glass," the "card-party," the "dancing-party," and the play-house reveries should be avoided. we have left these forms of so-called "questionable amusements" out of our practice and let our of our lives. to what may we turn? where may we go? we turn to the social gathering. but it must be planned. no social gathering can successfully run itself. see what forethought and expenditure are given to make successful the "smoking-club," the "wine-social," the "card and dancing parties," and the "theater." not one of these institutions thrive without thought and cost in their management. put the same thought and expense into the gathering for social recreation, and you will find all of the merits of the questionable institution and none of its demerits. no company has larger capabilities than the mixed company at the social gathering. nor may any purpose be more perfectly served than the purpose of true social recreation. here we find those skilled in music, versed in literature, adept at conversation; we find the practical joker, the proficient at games, and last, but not least, those "born to serve" tables. this variety of genius, of wit, of skill, of willingness to serve, is laid at the altar of pleasure for the worthy purpose of making new again the weary body, the languishing spirit, the lonely heart. let the right management and stimulus be given to this resourceful company, and the hours will pass as moments, the surest sign of a good time. some essentials. dining, social hour, games. no social recreation is complete without dining. and yet the least important part of this meal should be the taking of food. it is a serious fault with the modern social that too much attention is given to the variety and quantity of food, and not enough to merriment in taking it. to be successful, the social company should gather as early as possible; the first hour-and-a-half should be given to greetings and to social levity of the brightest and wittiest sort. if one has an ache or a pain, a care or a loss, let it be forgotten now. it is weakness and folly continually to be under any burden. here every one should take a genuine release from seriousness and earnestness in weighty and responsible affairs. let all, except the serving committee for this evening, take part in this strictly social hour-and-a-half. when the late-comers have arrived and have been introduced, and the people have moved about and met one another, almost before the company are aware of it they are invited by the serving committee to dine. usually all may not be served at once. now that the company has been thinned out, the older persons having gone to the tables, short, spirited games should be introduced in which every person not at luncheon, should be given a place and a part. at this juncture it is not best to introduce sitting-games, such as checkers, authors, caroms, or flinch, for the contestants might be called to take refreshments at a critical moment in the contest. with a little attention to it, appropriate games may be introduced here that need not interfere with luncheon. fully half an hour should be spent at each set of tables, where at the close of the meal, some humorous subject or subjects should be introduced and responded to be those best fitted for such a task. almost any person can say something bright as well as sensible, if he will give a little attention to it beforehand. while the second and third tables are being served, let those retiring contest at games of skill, converse, or take up other appropriate entertainment directed by the everywhere present entertainment committee. by this time half-past ten or eleven o'clock, some who are old, or who have pressing duties on the next day may want to retire. if the serving committee have been skillful in adjusting the time spent at each table to the number of tables, etc., by eleven o'clock the serving shall have been completed. now, the young in spirit, whether old or young, expect, and should have an hour at the newest, liveliest, and most recreative games. no part of the evening entertainment should be allowed to drag. to insure this a frequent change of social games is needed. avoid late hours. as late hours tend to produce irregularity in sleep, in meals, and in work; and since the object of the social is recreation, the company should retire about midnight. oftentimes people stay and stay at such a gathering, until the hostess, the entertaining committee, and the people themselves are worn out. and yet, who is at fault? this is a critical point in the modern popular social. how shall the company disband in due season? in his "autocrat of the breakfast table," oliver wendell holmes gives a suggestion on this point for the private visitor, who does not know how to go. says holmes: "do n't you know how hard it is for some people to get out of a room when their visit is really over? they want to be off, and you want to have them off, but they do n't know how to manage it. one would think they had been built in your parlor or study and were waiting to be launched. i have contrived a sort of ceremonial inclined plane for such visitors, which being lubricated with certain smooth phrases, i back them down, metaphorically speaking, stern-foremost, into their 'native element,' the great ocean of outdoors." there are social companies as hard to get rid of as this. they want to go, and every one wants them to go, but just how to make the start, no one seems to know. dr. holmes and his "inclined plane" may have been successful with the private caller, but who will be the "contriver of a ceremonial," one sufficient to land the social company into its "native element, the great ocean of outdoors?" no, this most delicate of the problems involved in a successful modern social must be left to a tactful hint from the entertainment committee, and to the wise choice of a few recognized leaders in the company. new committees. special committees should have charge of the serving and of the entertainment. as far as possible these should vary with each successive social. it is an erroneous notion, prevalent in nearly every community, that only "certain ones" can do this or that; the consequence is that these "certain ones" do all the work, are deprived of the true rest and relief which the social is meant to give, while others who should take their turn, grow unappreciative, and weak in their serving and entertaining ability. the average social a failure. as it is conducted to-day, the average social is a failure. late at arriving, want of introductions, lack of arranged entertainment, late hours,--all go to weaken and to dull the average young person in place of to cultivate his wits, his special genius at music, reading, and conversation, and to recreate him in body, mind, and spirit. to make a success of the social gathering some one must keep in mind the personal convenience and happiness of every person present. when this is done and the social gathering becomes notable for the real pleasure that it gives, then we shall be able to drive out the "questionable amusements," because we have taken nothing from the person, and have given him new life and interest. viii. friendship. bonds of attachment. each person is connected with every other person by some bond of attachment. it may be by the steel bond of brotherhood, by the silvern chain of religious fellowship, by the golden band of conjugal affection, by the flaxen cord of parental or filial love, or by the silken tie of friendship. one or more of these bonds of attachment may encircle each person, and each bond has its varying strength, and is capable of endless lengthening and contracting. brotherhood is a general term, and as it is used here, comprises the fellow-feeling that one human being has for another, this is universal brotherhood. brotherhood comprises the fellow-feeling that attracts persons of the same race, nation, or community, this is racial, national, or community brotherhood; also, it comprises the fellow-feeling that exists between persons of the same avocation, calling, or work, this is the brotherhood of profession; it comprises the fellow-feeling that joins persons of the same order or party, this is the brotherhood of order; it comprises the fellow-feeling that joins brothers and sisters of the same home, this is the brotherhood of family. religious fellowship includes that spiritual intercourse which is held between persons of the same religious faith and practice. conjugal affection comprises that feeling of mind and heart which unites husband and wife. filial and parental love exists between parent and child. while friendship comprises that soul union which exists between persons because of similar desires, tastes, and sentiments. each of these bonds of attachment has its characteristic mark, its essential feature. the essential feature of universal brotherhood is common origin, present struggle, and future hope; the essential feature of racial, national, or community brotherhood is patriotism; the essential feature of brotherhood of the order is mutual helpfulness; the essential feature in brotherhood of the profession is common pursuit; in brotherhood of the family, common parentage; in conjugal affection, attraction for opposite sex; in parental and filial love, love of offspring and love of parent; while in friendship the essential feature is harmony of natures. what is friendship? no human relationship can be more beautiful, nor more abiding than true friendship. it is a spiritual thing, a communion of souls, virtuously exercised. how one is impressed and pleased to see another horse just like his own, to see another dog exactly resembling his own, to meet a person who speaks, looks, and acts like some one he has known. it is a surprise, mingled with mystery and delight. but with what increased surprise and delight does one meet with a "person after his own heart." all men have recognized the strength and beauty of right self-love. the second great law of christ's kingdom is declared in terms of true self-love. "love thy neighbor as thyself." every one loves himself, because one's self is the truest and best of other lives filtered through his own soul. when one finds in another that which perfectly answers to his own soul-likings and longings, he has found another self, he has found a friend. friendship is the communion of such souls, although they may be absent from one another. the highest friendship may grow more perfectly when friends are separated, then it is unmixed with the alloy of imperfect thought and action. then it is nourished by the past, for only the past buries all faults; it is encouraged by the future, for only the future veils the awkwardness and shortcomings of the present. the character of friendship is determined by the character of friends. negative personalities wanting in taste, conviction, and virtue produce only a negative friendship. intense personalities produce intense friendships; noble personalities, noble friendships, and spiritual personalities, spiritual friendship. in the true, spiritual sense, before one can become a friend, he must become an individual. he must stand for something in thought and purpose. if this is not true, friendship becomes a flimsy affair. for souls to commune with one another there must be harmony; unity, agreement of desires, sentiments, and tastes. not the harmony of indifference, nor a forced agreement, but a beautiful and natural response of soul to soul. such equipment for friendship finds its basis only in individual character. character is conduct become habitual. if one spurns reason, and follows his impulse and passion, he becomes unreliable, and does not know the issues of his own heart and life. who knows what such an one will do next? to make it soar well or sail well, friendship must have ballast. this ballast is worthy, individual character. it would be more exact to say there can be no true friendship without individual character. although many elements constitute the character of the true friend, yet two elements are essential--sincerity and tenderness. sincerity is the soul of every virtue, while true words, simple manners, and right actions make up the body. if the soul of virtue is present one does not always demand the presence of the body, but if the body of virtue is absent, one had better take a search after the soul. if sincerity is unquestioned, words, manners, actions have great liberty; but if words, manners and actions are lacking in straight-forwardness, it is time to question sincerity. this is true in all human affairs involving motive and conduct. especially is it true in friendship. sincerity knows its own. by a glance it penetrates the very heart of its true friend, and leaves translucent and transparent its own. sincerity gives steadfastness and constancy to friendship. insincerity mars and breaks friendship. who has not seen a soul spring into life through the love of a radiant friendship; and then following a series of hollow pretenses, insincerities, that friendship fails, and the beautiful creature stifles and dies. as one tells us, "such a death is frightful, it is the asphyxia of the soul!" then, tenderness is an essential element in the character of a friend. says emerson: "notwithstanding all the selfishness that chills like east winds the world, the whole human family is bathed with an element of love, like a fine ether." with emerson, we believe that every person carries about with him a certain circle of sympathy within which he, and at least one friend, may temper and sweeten life. much of the kindness of the world is simply breathed, and yet what an aroma of good cheer it sheds in grateful lives. tenderness possesses a sensitiveness of sympathy to an extreme degree. it shrinks from the sight of suffering. it treats others with "gentleness, delicacy, thought-fulness, and care. it enters into feelings, anticipates wants, supplies the smallest pleasure, and studies every comfort." says one: "it belongs to natures, refined as well as loving, and possesses that consideration of which finer dispositions only are capable." tenderness is a heart quality. it is the luxury of a pure and intense friendship. it tempers one's entire nature, making his whole being sympathetic with grace and favor. it is manifest in the relaxing feature, in the penetrating glance, in the mellowing voice, in the engracing manners, and in the complete obliteration of time and distance, while with one's friend. we recall the friendly visits spend with our friend, lawrence w. rowell, during his medical course in rush college, chicago, while we were in attendance at the northwestern university, in evanston, illinois. rowell was intellectual, spirited, gifted in conversation, highly sympathetic, informed, critical, yet charitable, a close student of human nature, a love of philosophy, of musical temperament, of noble heart, of exalted purpose. our visits were kept up bimonthly throughout one year. we would spent saturday evening and sunday together. those visits revealed to me the magnetism, intensity, and tenderness of a friend. truly, with us time and distance were almost completely obliterated from our consciousness. i say distance, for we would walk together. tenderness suits the amiable and gentle in disposition, but it comes with a peculiar charm from the austere nature. it is one of the stalwart virtues, and is often concealed behind a crusty exterior. severity and tenderness adorn the greatest lives. the test of friendship. what is the uncertain mark of a friend? have i a friend? how many friends have i? i can invoice my stock, my goods, my land, my money, can i invoice my friends? one may not always know the actual worth of a friend, but he knows who are his friends, quite as well as he knows who are his nephews and cousins. "a friend is one whom you need and who needs you." has one a bit of good news, he flies to his friend, he wants to share it. has one a sorrow, he seeks his friend who will gladly share that. does one meet with a defeat or victory, instantly he thinks of his friend and of how it will effect him. friends need one another, as truly as the child needs its mother, or the mother her child. is one tempted to commit a wrong in thought or action, his friend, though absent, appears at his side and begs him not to do it. if one is in doubt or uncertainty, he summons his friend, who become a patient reasoner, and an impartial judge. who does not find himself, daily, looking through other people's glasses, weighing on other people's scales, sounding other people's voices? it is a habit that friends have with one another. you can not deprive friends of one another, any more than you can lovers. ah, true friends are lovers of the heaven-born sort; for their agreement is grounded in nature. they are not chosen, they are discovered. or, as emerson says, they are "self-elected." "friendship's an abstract of love's noble flame, 'tis love refined, and purged from all its dross, 'tis next to angel's love, if not the same, as strong as passion in, though not so gross." thus writes catherine phillips. fruits of friendship. true friendship gives ease to the heart, light to the mind, and aid to the carrying out of one's life-purposes. first, ease to the heart. the presence of a friend is a beam of genial sunshine which lights up the house by his very appearance. he warms the atmosphere and dispels the gloom. the presence of a true friend for a day, a night, a week, lifts one out of himself, links him with new purposes, and immerses him in new joys. friends breathe free with one another. they inspire sighs of relief. embarrassment disappears; liberty reigns supreme. hearts are like steam boilers, occasionally, they must give vent to what is in them, or they will burst. this is the true mission of friends, to become to one another reserve reservoirs of "griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatever lieth upon the heart to oppress it," or elate it. you recall those familiar lines of bacon: "this communicating of a man's self to his friends works two contrary effects; for it redoubles joys and cutteth griefs in halves; for there is no man that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more; and no man that imparteth his griefs to his friends, but he grieveth the less." the following selected lines, slightly changed, set forth this first fruit of friendship. "a true friend is an atmosphere warm with all inspirations dear, wherein we breathe the large free breath of life that hath no taint of death. a true friend's an unconscious part of every true beat of our heart; a strength, a growth, whence we derive soul-rest, that keeps the world alive." then, friendship sheds light in the mind. "he who has made the acquisition of a judicious and sympathetic friend," says robert hall, "may be said to have doubled his mental resources." no man is wise enough to be his own counselor, for he inclineth too much to leniency toward himself. "it is a well-known rule that flattery is food for the fool." therefore no man should be his own counselor since no one is so apt to flatter another as he is himself. a wise man never flatters himself, neither does a friend flatter. as a wise man sees his own faults and seeks to correct them, so a true friend sees the faults of his friend and labors faithfully to banish them. the one who flatters you despises you, and degrades both you and himself. an enemy will tell you the whole truth about yourself, especially your faults, and at times that both weaken and hurt you. a friend will tell you the whole truth about yourself, especially your neglected virtues, but at a time to both strengthen and help you. the highest service a friend can render is that of giving counsel. the highest honor one can bestow upon his friend is to make him his counselor. it is no mark of weakness to rely upon counsel. god, himself, needed a counselor, so he chose his son. "his name shall be called wonderful, counselor, the mighty god, the everlasting father, the prince of peace." isa. ix, . counsel, says solomon, is the key to stability. "every purpose is established by counsel." prov. xx, . who despiseth counsel shall reap the reward of folly. a friend is safe in counsel, according to his wisdom, for he never seeks his own good, but the good of his friend. it is a saying, "if some one asks you for advice, if you would be followed, first find out what kind of advice is wanted, then give that." but this is not the way of a friend. he has in mind the welfare of the friend and the cause his friend serves. honor does not require that one shall follow the advise of his friend, rather liberty in this is a mark of freedom and trust between friends. a friend aids one in the carrying out of his life purposes. who is it that helps one to places of honor and usefulness? it is his friend. who is it that recognizes one's true worth, extols his virtues, and gives tone and quality to the diligent services of months and years? it is his friend. who is it, when one ends his life in the midst of an unfinished book, or with loose ends of continued research in philosophy or science all about him; who is it that gathers up these loose ends and puts in order the unfinished work? it is his friend. who is it that stands by the open tomb of that fallen saint or hero and relates to the world his deeds of sacrifice and courage which spurn others on to nobler living and thereby perpetuates his goodness and valor? who does this, if it is done? it is his friend. a friend thus becomes not only a completion of one's soul as he is by virtue of being a friend, but also he becomes a completion of one's life. then, one's relation to his fellowmen is a limited relationship. he may speak, but upon certain subjects, on certain occasions, and to certain persons. as francis bacon says, "a man can not speak to his son but as a father; to his wife but as a husband; to his enemy but upon terms; whereas a friend may speak as the case requires, and not as it sorteth with the person....i have given the rule," says he, "where a man can not fitly play his own part, if he have not a friend, he may quit the stage." how to get and keep a friend. a real friend is discovered, or made. first, discovered. two persons notice an attraction for one another. they see that their desires are similar, they have the same sentiments, they agree in tastes. a feeling of attachment becomes conscious with each of them, slight association fosters this feeling, it increases. new associations but reveal a broader agreement, a closer union, a perfecter harmony. the signs of friendship appear. heart and mind of each respond to the other, they are friends. this is the noblest friendship. it has its origin in nature. it is, as h. clay trumbull says: "love without compact or condition; it never pivots on an equivalent return of service or of affection. its whole sweep is away from self and toward the loved one. its desire is for the friend's welfare; its joy is in the friend's prosperity; its sorrows and trials are in the friend's misfortunes and griefs; its pride is in the friend's attainments and successes; its constant purpose is in doing and enduring for the friend." then, friends are made. two persons do not especially attract one another. but, through growth of character, modification of nature, or change in desires, sentiments, and tastes, they become attracted to each other. or in spite of natural disagreements or differences, through the force of circumstances they become welded together in friendship. montaigne describes such an attachment, in which the souls mix and work themselves into one piece with so perfect a mixture that there is no more sign of a seam by which they were first conjoined. says euripedes: "a friend wedded into our life is more to us than twice five thousand kinsman one in blood." such was the friendship of ruth and naomi. orpha loved naomi, kissed her, and returned satisfied to her early home; but ruth cleaved unto her, saying: "entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, i will go; where thou lodgest, i will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy god my god: where thou diest, will i die, and there will i be buried: the lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me." the keeping of a friend like the keeping of a fortune, lies in the getting, although in friendship much depends upon circumstances of association. however subtle may be the circumstances which bring friends together, or whatever natural agreement may exist between their natures, still there is always a conscious choosing of friends. in this choosing lies the secret of abiding friendship. young says: "first on thy friend deliberate with thyself; pause, ponder, sift: not eager in the choice, nor jealous of the chosen; fixing fix; judge before friendship, then confide till death." steadfastness and constancy such as this seldom loses a friend. last of all, abiding friendship is grounded in virtue. says a famed writer on friendship: "there is a pernicious error in those who think that a free indulgence in all lusts and sins is extended in friendship. friendship was given us by nature as the handmaid of virtues and not as the companion of our vices. it is virtue, virtue i say... that both wins friendship and preserves it." and closing his remarks on this immortal subject, cicero causes laelius to say: "i exhort you to lay the foundations of virtue, without which friendship can not exist, in such a manner, that with this one exception, you may consider that nothing in the world is more excellent than friendship." ix. travel. a personal experience. we have set in order some facts, incidents, and lessons gathered from a hasty trip to the old country during the summer of . the journey was made in company with rev. c.f. juvinall, for four years my room-mate and fellow-student, and my estimable friend. on wednesday, june st, we sailed from boston harbor; reached liverpool, england, saturday morning the st of july; visited this second town in the british kingdom; stopped over at the old town of chester; took a run out to hawarden estate, the home of gladstone; changed cars at stratford-on-avon and visited the tomb of shakespeare; staid a half day and a night in the old university town of oxford, and reached london on the evening of july th. having spent a week in london, we crossed the english channel to paris; remained there two days, then made brief visits to the battlefield of waterloo, to brussels, amsterdam, hull, sheffield, dublin, and back to liverpool. we sailed to boston and returned to chicago by way of montreal and detroit, having spent forty-nine days--the intensest and delightfullest of our lives. at first, we hesitated to treat this subject from a point of view of personal experience, but since it is our purpose to incite in others the love for and the right us of all helpful resources of happiness and power, it seemed to us that we could no better accomplish our purpose with respect to this subject than to recount our own observations from this one limited, imperfect journey. an eye-open and ear-open experience. one is always at a disadvantage in relating the faults of others, for he seems to himself and to his friends to be telling his own experience. we were about to speak of the superficial way in which americans travel. one who has traveled much says that "the average company of american tourists goes through the art galleries of europe like a drove of cattle through the lanes of a stock-market." nor is it the art gallery and museum alone that is done superficially. how many persons before entering grand old notre dame, or the british houses of parliament, pause to admire the elaborate and expansive beauty of the great archways and outer walls? it is possible to live in this world, to travel around it, to touch at every great port and city, and yet fail to see what is of value or of interest. a man on our boat going to liverpool, said that he had traveled over the world, had been in london many a time, but had not taken the pains to go into st. paul's, nor to visit the tower of london. a wise man, a seer, is one who sees. it is possible to live in this world, and not to leave one's own dooryard, and yet to possess the knowledge of the world, and to tell others how to see. louis agassiz, the scientist, was invited by a friend to spend the summer with him abroad. mr. agassiz declined the gracious offer on the ground that he had just planned a summer's tour through his own back yard. what did agassiz find on that tour? instruction for the children of many generations, a treatise on animal life, and later a text-book of zoology. kant, the philosopher, the greatest mind since socrates, was never forty miles from his birthplace. on the other hand, grant allen, author, scholar, and traveler, says: "one year in the great university we call europe, will teach one more than three at yale or columbia. and what it teaches one will be real, vivid, practical, abiding... ingrained in the very fiber of one's brain and thought.... he will read deeper meaning thenceforward in every picture, every building, every book, every newspaper.... if you want to know the origin of the art of building, the art of painting, the art of sculpture, as you find them to-day in contemporary america, you must look them up in the churches, and the galleries of early europe. if you want to know the origin of american institutions, american law, american thought, and american language, you must go to england; you must go farther still to france, italy, hellas, and the orient. our whole life is bound up with greece and rome, with egypt and assyria." but whatever advantage travel may afford for broad and intense study, whatever be its superior processes of refinement and learning, yet it is well to remember this, that at any place and at any time one may open his eyes and his ears, his heart and his reason, and find more than he is able to understand and a heart to feel! you can not limit god to the land nor to the sea, to one country nor to one hemisphere. thus the kind of travel of which we speak is the eye-open and ear-open sort. let us note first, then, that travel is a study of history at the spot where the event took place. the history of a nation is a record of its great men. you tell a faithful story of columbus, john cabot, and henry hudson; of winthrop, john smith, and melendez; of general wolfe, general washington, patrick henry, and franklin; of jefferson, adams, jackson, and webster; of abraham lincoln, wendell phillips, john brown, and general grant; of john sherman, grover cleveland, and william mckinley, and you an up-to-date history of the young american republic, acknowledged by every country to have the greatest future of all nations. so, if one reads with understanding the inscriptions on the monuments of gough, o'connell, and parnell, he will get the story of the struggles of the irish. enter london tower, "the most historical spot in england," and recount the bloody tragedies of the english people since the time of william the conqueror, a.d. here we have a "series of equestrian figures in full equipment, as well as many figures on foot, affording a faithful picture, in approximate chronological order, of english war-array from the time of edward i, , down to that of james ii, ." in glass cases, and in forms of trophies on the walls, we find arms and armor of the old romans, of the early greeks, and britons, and of the anglo-saxons. maces and axes, long and cross bows and leaden missile weapons and shields, highly adorned with metal figures, all tend to make more vivid the word-pictures of the historian. of the small burial-ground in this tower, macaulay writes: "in truth there is no sadder spot on earth than this little cemetery. death is there associated, not, as in westminster abbey and st. paul's, with genius and virtue, with public veneration, and with imperishable renown; not, as in our humblest churches and church-yards, with every thing that is most endearing in social and domestic charities; but with whatever is darkest in human nature and in human destiny, with the savage triumph of implacable enemies, with the inconstancy, the ingratitude, the cowardice of friends, with all the miseries of fallen greatness and of blighted fame." we note a few names chiseled here: sir thomas more, beheaded ; anne boleyn, beheaded in this tower, ; thomas cromwell, beheaded, ; margaret pole, beheaded here, ; queen catharine howard, beheaded, ; lady jane grey and her husband, beheaded here, ; sir thomas overbudy, poisoned in this tower, . since travel is a study of history at the spot where the event took place, let us cross the rough and famed english channel to visit one of the many noted spots of france. we select the site of the hotel de ville or the town-hall of paris. "the construction of the old hall was begun in , and was over seventy years in its completion. additions were made, and the building was reconstructed in . this has been the usual rallying site of the democratic party for centuries. here occurred the tragedy of st. bartholomew in ; here mob-posts, gallows, and guillotines did the work of a despotic misrule until . (as we left for brussels on the evening of the th of july, all paris was gayly decorated with red, white, and blue bunting, ready to celebrate the event of july , , the fall of the bastile.) on this date, years ago, the captors of the bastile marched into this noted hall. three days later louis xvi came here in procession from versailles, followed by a dense mob." here robespierre attempted suicide to avoid arrest, when five battalions under barras forced entrance to assault the commune party, of which robespierre was head. here, in , louis blanc proclaimed the institution of the republic of france. this was a central spot during the revolution of . the leaders of the commune party place in this building barrels of gunpowder, and heaps of combustibles steeped in petroleum, and on may th they succeeded in destroying with it human lives. a new hotel de ville, one of the most magnificent buildings in europe, has replaced the old hall. this is open to visitors at all hours. to study history at the spot where the event took place means work as well as pleasure, so we took our luncheon and sleep in our car while the train carried us to brussels, and out to braine-l'alleud, where, on the beautiful rolling plain of belgium, june , , napoleon bonaparte met his waterloo, and wellington became england's idol. a railway baggageman was on our train returning to his home in cleveland, ohio. in conversation, he said: "i have been with this company for twenty-two years; have drawn two dollars a day, days in the year for that time, and i haven't a dollar in the world, but one, and i gave it yesterday for a dog. but," said he, "i have a good woman and the greatest little girl in the world, so i am happy." this is one of a large class of persons who receive fair wages all their lives, and yet die paupers, because they plan to spend all they make as they go along. in conversation with a gruff, old dutch conductor between albany and new york city, i ventured to ask him if he had ever crossed the ocean. "no," he said, "nopody eber crosses de ocean, bud emigrants, and beoble vat hab more muney dan prains." travel is a study of religious institutions. among the most interesting in europe, that we visited, are wesley's chapel, westminster abbey, st. paul's cathedral, and notre dame. the church of notre dame, situated in the heart of paris on the bank of the seine, was founded on the site of a church of the fourth century. the building has been altered a number of times. in it was converted into a temple of reason. the statue of the virgin mary was replaced by one of liberty. busts of robespierre, voltaire, and rosseau were erected. this church was closed to worship , but was reopened by napoleon . it was desecrated by the communards , when the building was used as a military depot. the large nave, feet long, feet wide, and feet high, is the most interesting portion of this massive structure. the vaulting of this great nave is supported by seventy-five huge pillars. the pulpit is a masterpiece of modern wood-carving. the choir and sanctuary are set off by costly railings, and are beautifully adorned by reliefs in wood and stone. the organ, with , pipes, is one of the finest in europe. "the choir has a reputation for plain song." on a small elevation, in the center of london, stand the cathedral of st. paul's, the most prominent building in the city. from remains found here it is believed that a christian church occupied this spot in the times of the romans, and that it was rebuilt by king ethelbert, a.d. three hundred years later this building was burned, but soon it was rebuilt. again it was destroyed by fire, , and a new edifice begun which was years in completion. this church, old st. paul's, was feet long, and had a leaden-covered, timber spire, feet high. in this spire was injured by lightning, and in the building was again burned. says mr. baedeker, whose guidebook is indispensable in the hands of a traveler, "near the cathedral stood the celebrated cross of st. paul, where sermons were preached, papal bulls promulgated, heretics made to recant, and witches to confess, and where the pope's condemnation of luther was proclaimed in the presence of woolsey." here is the burial place of a long list of noted persons. here occurred wyckiff's citation for heresy, ; and here tyndale's new testament was burned, . it was opened for divine services, , and was completed after thirteen years of steady work, at a cost of three and a half millions of dollars. this sum was raised by a tax on coal. the church is in the form of a latin cross, feet long, with the transept feet in length. "the inner dome is feet high, the outer, from the pavement to the top of the cross, is feet. the dome is feet in diameter, thirty-seven feet less than st. peter's. st. paul's is the third largest church in christendom, being surpassed only by st. peter's at rome." three services are held here daily. the religion of notre dame is roman catholic, but that of st. paul's and westminster is of the church of england. what shall we say of westminster abbey, the most impressive place of all our travel! as my friend and i entered here and took our seats for divine worship, preparatory to visiting her halls, and chapels, and tombs, i think i was never more deeply impressed. i said to myself, "what does god mean to allow me to worship here?" and i seemed to realize how little my past life had been. i felt that circumstances and not i myself had thrust this new privilege, and thereby new responsibility, upon me. westminster abbey! a church for the living, a burial-place for the honored dead; a monument to genius, labor, and virtue; england's "temple of fame;" the most solemn spot in europe, if not in the world! here lie authors, benefactors, and poets; statesmen, heroes, and rulers, the best of english blood since edward the confessor, a.d. we must now leave this sacred spot to visit, if possible for us, a more sacred one, the birthplace of methodism, or more accurately speaking, in the words of bishop warren, the "cradle of methodism." on city road, london, near liverpool street station, is located the house, chapel, burial-grounds, and tomb of john wesley. across the street, in an old nonconformist cemetery, are the graves of james watt, daniel defoe, and john bunyan. across the narrow street to the north is the tabernacle of whitefield. we learned that friday, july th, was reopening day for wesley's chapel. what a distinguished body of persons we found at this meeting! dr. joseph parker was the speaker of the day. the rev. hugh price hughes, president of the conference, presided at the memorial services. rev. westerdale, present pastor, successfully managed the program of the day, especially the collections, for he met the expense of the rebuilding and past indebtedness with the sum of over fifteen thousand dollars. he told those discouraged ministers with big audiences to go and take courage from what the mother-church, with her small number of poor parishioners, had done. in the evening, bishop warren, on his return to america, called in and gave an interesting talk. he was followed by fletcher moulton, member of parliament. you may not realize the feeling of gratitude with which we took part in this eventful service of praise, prayer, and rededication! on the next day we returned to see the books, furniture, and apartments of wesley, himself. we sat at his writing desk, stood in his death-chamber, and lingered in the little room where he used to retire at four in the morning for secret prayer. from here he would go directly to his preaching service at five. wesley put god first in his life, this is why men honor him so much now that he is gone. we took a farewell view of the audience-room from the very pulpit into which wesley ascended to preach his good news of christ. from the several inscriptions on wesley's tomb, we copied the following one: "after having languished a few days, he at length finished his course and life together. gloriously triumphing over death, march the nd, anno domine, , in the eighty-eight year of his age." in liverpool, on the day of our arrival, july st, an old, gray-haired man was shining my shoes. he observed that i was from across the water, and that an englishman can readily tell a yankee. he began to praise america. he said that uncle sam was only a child yet, that america was destined to be the greatest country in the world; that her trouble with spain was only a bickering; that the present engagement was only his maiden warfare, and that he "walked along like a streak of lightning." saturday evening, july th, witnessed the greatest military parade in london for thirty years. the prince of wales reviewed twenty-seven thousand london volunteers. early in the morning citizens from all over england began to gather in front of the english barracks, and at the east end of hyde park. by two o'clock in the afternoon hundreds of thousands had packed the streets and dotted the parks and lawns, until, in every direction one could witness a sea of faces. after the royal and military procession began, the patient johnnies, with their sisters, sweethearts, wives, mothers, grandmothers, and great-grand-mothers, stood for five hours to see it go by. the englishman does not tire when he is honoring his country. at the close of this parade we dropped into a barbershop for a shave. the gentleman seemed to understand that i was a long ways from home. "you fellows," i said, "can tell us as far as you can see us." "yes," said he, "by your shoes, your hat, your coat, your tongue, and even by your face. we can tell you by the way you spit. a spittoon here, pointing about ten feet away, give a yankee two trials, he will hit it every time." travel is a study of the genius of man as shown in architecture, in sculpture, and in painting. ninety-seven plans were submitted for the houses of parliament, including westminster hall. that of sir charles barry was selected, and the present imposing structure was built, covering eight acres, at a cost of $ , , . the style is perpendicular (gothic), with carvings, intricate in detail and highly picturesque. the building faces the river with a feet front, but her three magnificent square-shaped towers rise over her street front. the clock tower at the northwest corner is feet high, the middle tower is feet, and the southwest, or victorian tower, is feet high. the large clock with its four dials, each twenty-three feet in diameter, requires five hours for winding the striking parts. the striking bell of the clock tower is one of the largest known; it weighs thirteen tons, and can be heard, in favorable weather, over the greater portion of london. one never tires in looking at this noble building. it is appropriately adorned inside and out with elaborate carvings, statuary, and paintings. here are located the chamber of peers, the house of commons, and numerous royal apartments, lavishly fitted up to be in keeping with the office and dignity of the building. crystal palace, situated about eight miles southeast of st. paul's, consists entirely of glass and iron. its main hall, or nave, is , feet long, with great cross sections, two aisles, and numerous lateral sections. the two water towers at the ends are each feet high. if you were at the world's fair in chicago, and visited the transportation building, you may imagine something of the magnitude and beauty of crystal palace, with her orchestra, concert hall, and opera-house; with her fountains, library, and school of art; with her museums, gardens, and arenas; with her parks, panoramas, and her numerous exhibits of nature and art. near the center of the palace "is the great handel orchestra, which can accommodate , persons, and has a diameter twice as great as the dome of st. paul's. in the middle is the powerful organ with , pipes, built at a cost of $ , , and worked by hydraulic machinery. an excellent orchestra plays here daily." the concert-hall on the south side of the stage can accommodate an audience of , . an excellent orchestra plays here daily. "on each side of the great nave are rows of courts, containing in chronological order, copies of the architecture and sculpture of the most highly civilized nations, from the earliest period to the present day." the gardens of crystal palace cover two hundred acres, and are beautifully laid out "with flowerbeds, shrubberies, fountains, cascades, and statuary." "two of the fountain basins have been converted into sport arenas, each about eight and one-half acres in extent." nine other fountains, with electric light illuminations, play on fireworks nights and on other special occasions. it is common for , visitors to attend these thursday night firework exhibits. colored electric light jets deck the fountains, flower-beds, and halls. crystal palace was designed by sir joseph paxton, and cost seven and a half million of dollars. well may it be called london's paradise. shall we say that the greatest piece of constructive architecture of any country is that of eiffel tower! situated on the left bank of the seine river, it overlooks paris and the country for fifty miles around. in its construction, iron caissons were sunk to a depth of forty-six feet on the river side, and twenty-nine and one-half on the other side. when the water was forced out of these caissons by means of compressed air, "concrete was poured in to form a bed for four massive foundation piers of masonry, eighty-five feet thick, arranged in a square of yards. upon this base which covers about two and a half acres rises the extraordinary, yet graceful structure of interlaced ironwork" to a height of feet. eight hundred persons may be accommodated on the top platform at once. it was completed within two years' time, and is the highest monument in the world. washington monument ranks second, being feet high. from the summit of eiffel tower one may secure a good view of paris, her public buildings, chief hills, parks, and boulevards, monuments, and embankments. an imitation of trajan's column in rome, is feet in height, and thirteen feet in diameter. it is constructed of masonry, encrusted with plates of bronze, forming a spiral band nearly yards in length, on which are represented the "battle scenes of napoleon during his campaign of , and down to the battle of austerlitz. the figures are three feet in height and many of them are portraits. the metal was obtained by melting down , russian and austrian cannons. at the top is a statue of napoleon in his imperial robes. this column reflects the political history of france." the design sculptor is bergeret. for their antiquity the mummies and statues in the egyptian galleries of the british museum are very interesting. they embrace the period from years before christ to a.d. "the tomb of napoleon by visconte," and "the twelve colossal victories surrounding the sarcophagus by pradier," are among the finest works of parisian sculpture. the sarcophagus, thirteen feet long, six and one-half feet high, consists of a single huge block of reddish-brown granite, weighing upwards of sixty-seven tons, brought as a gift from finland at a cost of $ , . the louvre, paris, contains one of the finest art galleries in europe, and with the tuilleries, covers about eight acres, "forming one of the most magnificent places in the world." in our limited experience at travel we have yet to find a single object of beauty or utility that is not the product of skill, of genius, of great labor. every monument bears testimony of struggle, of bloodshed, of hard-earned victory; beneath every tomb that honor has erected rests the body of incarnate intelligence, fidelity, and courage. in the shadow of every great cathedral lies collected the moth and rust from the coppers of myriad-handed toilers of five and ten centuries. the towers and domes of london, and paris, and amsterdam, and dublin are monuments to the genius of the architect and to the faithfulness of the common toiler. the parks and gardens tell of centuries of wise and faithful application of the laws of growth, of symmetry, of design in form and color. the historic chapels of worship and learning breathe the very incense of devotion and reverence for truth; while the conservatories of sculpture and painting preserve what is divinest in human experience. age alone can produce a great man or a great nation. decades for the man and centuries for the nation; these are the measuring periods for real achievement. but all this is on the human side. correggio and titian in painting; bacon and bailey in sculpture; raphael and michael angelo in sculpture and painting; and sir christopher wren in architecture,--the works of art of such as these elevate and purify one's thought and feeling. but the profoundest impressions that come to one from travel, come alone from the works of nature. the crystal palace in london can not compare in glory with the crystal ripples of a mid-ocean scene. the botannical gardens of the tuilleries in paris do not stir the soul as does the splendor of the welsh mountains. the rockery plants of phoenix park, dublin, are insignificant compared with growths of ferns and moss on the rock ledges of bray's head, south of dublin. no panorama that man has painted can equal the scene of waterloo battle-field, observed from the earthen mound near the fatal ravine. so, we shall always find it true, that as the heavens are higher than the earth, so the thoughts of god are higher than the thoughts of man, and his ways than man's ways. x. home and the home-maker. what is home? "recently a london magazine sent out , inquiries on the question, 'what is home?' in selecting the classes to respond to the question it was particular to see that every one was represented. the poorest and the richest were given an equal opportunity to express their sentiment. out of eight hundred replies received, seven gems were selected as follows: "home--a world of strife shut out, a world of love shut in. "home--the place where the small are great and the great are small. "home--the father's kingdom, the mother's world, and the child's paradise. "home--the place where we grumble the most and are treated the best. "home--the center of our affection, round which our heart's best wishes twine. "home--the place where our stomachs get three square meals daily and our hearts a thousand. "home--the only place on earth where the faults and failings of humanity are hidden under the sweet mantle of charity." dr. talmage defines home, as "a church within a church, a republic within a republic, a world within a world." dr. banks writes, "it is not granite walls, or gaudy furniture, or splendid books, or soft carpets, or delicious viands that can make a home. all of these may be present, and yet it be only a dungeon, if the great simplicities are not there." sings one: "home's not merely roof and room, needs it something to endear it. home is where the heart can bloom, where there's some kind heart to cheer it. home's not merely four square walls, though with pictures hung and gilded, home is where affection calls, filled with charms the heart hath builded. home! go watch the faithful dove sailing 'neath the heavens above us, home is where there's one to love, home is where there's one to love us." we believe the five sweetest words in the english language to the largest number of persons--words which carry with them intrinsic meaning and blessing are these: "jesus," "mother," "music," "heaven," "home." "twenty thousand people gathered in the old castle garden, new york, to hear jennie lind sing. after singing some of the old masters, she began to pour forth 'home, sweet home.' the audience could not stand it. an uproar of applause stopped the music. tears gushed from thousands like rain. the word 'home' touched the fiber of every soul in that immense throng." in an early spring day, when the warm sun began to invite one to bask in his rays, my wife, delicate in health, lay drowsing on some boards near the house. the large garden spot spread out to the rear of her; a beautiful grassy lawn carpeted round a deserted house, granary, and shop-building in front of her. she was living over her girlhood days. she thought she was in the old home orchard, where she used to doze, dream, and play. the songs of the birds seemed the same; the same gentle breezes played with her hair; the same passers-by jogged along the roadside; the same family horse nibbled the tender grass in the barnyard. how sad, and yet how sweet are the memories of early days! the tender associations of home never leave one, however roughly the coarse hand of time would tear them away. it is because home means love that its associations and lessons remain. essentials to a happy home. although home means love, yet love alone may not insure happiness. in addition to love, without which a true home can not exist, we select four essential requisites to make home life useful and happy. these are intelligence, unselfishness, attractiveness, and religion. first, intelligence. much of the misery of the world in individual and family life is due to gross ignorance. once the father of a family said to me, "we did not get our mail to-day, i miss my reading." knowing the man we were surprised at such a remark, and ventured to ask him what papers he took. a list of ten or a dozen papers was named. all of them were newspapers. one was a general daily, two were local dailies, and the rest were local weekly papers. no intelligent person would have carried over three of those papers from the post-office. this man spent hours upon a class of reading that should be finished with a few minutes each day. in this same family the mother told me that she had never rode on a railway train, and that she had never been outside of her own county. this is an exceptional case, but it illustrates how that ignorance makes thrift and happiness impossible in a home, neither of which belong to this family. here every law of health is violated, foresight in providing for the physical comforts of the home is wanting; little attention is given to the education of the children; no sacrifices to-day enrich to-morrow; life is a humdrum, a routine, a dread, with no exuberance, joy, or hope. in time, such a life leads to failure and gloom, to secret, then to open vice, and to a final shipwreck of the home and of the individual. in a similar yet in a less marked way, the career of many a home is ended. no one may be directly to blame, but want of common knowledge and common wit have set a limit beyond which such a family may not go. the intelligent family has some sort of a history which it is their privilege and duty to perpetuate. members of the intelligent family are moral sponsors for one another, the mother for the daughters, the father for the sons, the brothers and sisters for one another. they find their own best interests in the interests of one another. the intelligent family is not superstitious. they act upon the wisdom of the ancient poet, "every one is the architect of his own fortune." they look to cause and condition for results. they spell "luck" with a "p" before it. the intelligent farmer plants his crop in the ground, rather than in the moon, and looks for his harvest to the seed and the toil. the intelligent merchant locates his business on the street of largest travel and makes the buying of his goods his best salesman. the intelligent man of letters thrives at first by making friends of poverty and want, until one day his genius places his name in the temple of honor. so it is with the artist, the musician, the inventor, the architect. to be happy and useful in one's lot, one must know something of the sphere in which he lives and works, of its practical wisdom, and must be prepared to live, or glad to die for the cause he serves. no indolent, superstitious, or ignorant family need look for abiding happiness nor expect to be permanently useful. then unselfishness is essential to happy home life. it is a serious matter for two persons, even when they are naturally mated, to undertake to live together in peace and harmony. it is a more serious matter when they are not naturally mated. it is more serious still when children enter the home, for they bring with them conflicting tendencies, dispositions, and wills. often have we wondered how it is that families get on as well together as they do when we have considered, what natural differences exist between them, and what little teaching and discipline have been used to harmonize these differences. an harmonious home is truly begun in the parental homes of the husband and wife. two persons may be perfectly suited to one another, and yet they may be selfish in wanting their own way. as one grows up, if he is allowed to have his own way regardless of the rights and privileges of others, he becomes a selfish person, and his parents are to blame. a selfish person in the home plans for his own comfort, decides and acts as he wishes, and seeks to satisfy his own desires. he does not take into consideration the plans, wishes, and desires of other members of the family. it is understood that his authority is supreme. not one member of the family dreams of expressing dissent to his dominion. a so-called peace of this sort is not uncommon among families. this supreme authority may be vested in husband, or wife, or in one or all of the children. a forced peace of this kind is worse than rebellion and is as bad as open war. how can any persons be so presumptuous as to think that any person, or a number of persons, exist solely for his comfort and advantage! let two such selfish persons get together, a permanent riot is assured. unselfishness in the home means thoughtfulness, discipline, self-control. each child is taught the rights and privileges of others as well as his own. when two unselfish persons join their lives there begins a holy and beautiful rivalry in seeking the rights and privileges of one another. the very atmosphere of such a home is deference, respect, and love. as the stranger, the neighbor, the friend, comes and goes, he catches the spirit of it and carries it with him into his own and other homes. children born into such a home early imbibe its spirit, and, o, the inspiration one receives from going into that family circle! no home-life can be an inspiration and a blessing where selfishness is allowed to reign. nor can it be useful and happy. ella wheeler wilcox describes a selfish, though a kind and loving husband: their holiday. the wife: our house is like a garden-- the children are the flowers, the gardener should come, methinks, and walk among his bowers. so lock the door of worry, and shut your cares away, not time of year, but love and cheer, will make a holiday. the husband: impossible! you women do not know, the toil it takes to make a business grow: i can not join you until very late, so hurry home, nor let the dinner wait. the wife: the feast will be like hamlet, without the hamlet part; the home is but a house, dear, till you supply the heart. the christmas gift i long for you need not toil to buy; o, give me back one thing i lack: the love-light in your eye. the husband: of course i love you, and the children, too. be sensible, my dear. it is for you i work so had to make my business pay; there, now, run home, enjoy your holiday. the wife, turning away: he does not mean to wound me, i know his heart is kind, alas, that men can love us, and be so blind--so blind! a little time for pleasure, a little time for play, a word to prove the life of love and frighten care away-- though poor my lot, in some small cot, that were a holiday. to preserve the family circle, the home must be made attractive. no amount of practical wisdom, of puritanic piety, nor mere kindly treatment will hold a family of children together until they are strong enough to resist the temptations of the world. the home must be made more attractive than the street or places of amusement. the average boy or girl who loses interest in home and uses it chiefly as an eating and sleeping place, does so with good reasons. home has lost its charm. no provision is made for his pastime and pleasure. not finding this at home he will go elsewhere in search of it. "an unattractive home," says one, "is like the frame of a harp that stands without strings. in form and outline, it suggests music, but no melody arises from the empty spaces; and thus it is an unattractive home, is dreary and dull." how may home be made attractive? we have presupposed a certain amount of education and culture in the home by maintaining for it intelligence and unselfishness. any home that is intelligent and unselfish is capable of being made attractive. in the first place, in as far as it is practicable, each member of the family should have a room of his own and be taught how to make it attractive. here, one will hang his first pictures, start his own library, provide a writing desk, and learn to spend his spare moments. recently we visited a home in chicago. the rooms are few in number and hired. the family consists of father, mother, and three children, now grown. during our short stay in the home i was invited into the boys' room. the walls are literally covered with original pencil designs, queer calendars, odd pictures; the dresser and stand are lined with books and magazines, with worn-out musical instruments, art gifts from other members of the family, and ball-team pictures, while two lines of gorgeous decorations stretch from wall to wall. this is still these young men's little world, their interests have centered here. no less than five kinds of musical instruments were visible in this home. the walls of the living room and parlor are made beautiful with simple tasteful pictures made by the daughter, whose natural gift in art was early cultivated. the table, shelves, and mantelpiece are decorated with china bowls, plates, and vases, simply, yet elegantly adorned. this work was done by the daughter and mother. not a large but a choice collection of flowering plants relieved the bay window of its emptiness. this is an attractive home. the children never have cared to spend their evenings on the street nor at places of amusement. games of skill, innocent, instructive, and entertaining, may be used to make home life more attractive. only let the amusements of the home be under the direction of father and mother, and be practiced by them. here is a chance to teach shrewdness, honor, interest, and by all means, moderation. to overdo at games and amusements is more harmful than to overwork. religion is essential to happy home life. a family may get on for a time very smoothly without prayer, bible study, faith in god, and love for jesus christ; but no family life is completed without a storm, many storms of some sort. years may pass as on a quiet sea, but one day at high noon, or, perhaps, in the silent, early hour, a small cloud is seen in the distance; it comes nearer; the wind begins to blow, the thunders peal, the lightnings flash, the old home, for so long an ark of safety, is being tossed on the billowy waves. a testing time is at hand. mother is gone, or father has ventured too far and lost all; or son has disgraced the family name; or daughter is in shame; or the darling of the home is no more! it makes a vast difference who is at the helm when the storms of home life rage. it is a mark of highest wisdom to place the family ship under the world's best captain, jesus christ. he never lost a life. he alone can arrest the lightning, quiet the waves, inspire confidence, and restore peace and good will in any storm. but religion is not only useful in trouble, it is an ornament in peace and prosperity, in the making and building of the home. tempers must be controlled, dispositions cultivated, conduct improved, hearts softened, and minds purified and disciplined. to accomplish all of this, no substitute can be made for the spirit and faith of jesus christ. "'dear moss,' said the thatch on an old ruin, 'i am so worn, so patched, so ragged, really i am quite unsightly. i wish you would come and cheer me up a little. you will hide all my infirmities and defects; and, through your loving sympathy no finger of contempt or dislike will be pointed at me.' 'i come,' said the moss; and it crept up and around, and in and out, till every flaw was hidden, and all was smooth and fair. presently the sun shone out, and the old thatch looked bright and fair, a picture of rare beauty, in the golden rays. 'how beautiful the thatch looks!' cried one who saw it. 'how beautiful the thatch looks!' said another. 'ah!' said the old thatch, 'rather let them say, 'how beautiful is the loving moss!'" so it is with the religion of christ, it adorns and beautifies the life who really wears it; so that the plainness of that life is covered, its ruggedness softened, and its "pain transformed into profit and its loss into gain." charles m. sheldon gives as an essential for a permanent republic, "a true home life where father, mother, and children spend much time together; where family worship is preserved; where honesty, purity, and mutual affection are developed." j.r. miller beautifully sums up the secret of happy home-making in one word--"'christ.' christ at the marriage altar; christ on the bridal journey; christ when the new home is set up; christ when the baby is born; christ when the baby dies; christ in the pinching times; christ in the days of plenty; christ in the nursery, in the kitchen, in the parlor; christ in the toil and in the rest; christ all along the years; christ when the wedded pair walk toward the sunset gates; christ in the sad hour when the farewells are spoken, and one goes on before and the other stays, bearing the unshared grief. christ is the secret of happy home life." the home-maker. just as a surly husband, a dissipated father, or a reckless son may blight a home and destroy its happiness, so may a thoughtful, virtuous, and kind man in the home change its very atmosphere and help to make it a heaven. as a home-maker man has the ruggeder part. it is his to provide. the man who falls short of this in the home does not do his part. no woman can respect a man much less love him, who places her, her work, her life, her home, her world under constant embarrassment by a scant and niggardly provision. she loses her ambition, ceases to make her self and her home attractive; disorder, filth, unwholesome food, lack of spirit on her part is the result. she can not be to him, most of all, what he expects her to be, a companion, a counselor, a comfort--a home-maker. also, it is the part of the man in the home to shield the woman from the heavier burdens and responsibilities. let him count the cost of his enterprises, secure himself against hazardous speculations, and give his wife and children to realize that his shoulders, and not theirs, are to bear the load of financial obligation and material support. this leaves the woman with her finer instincts and sensibilities to make the home the dearest spot on earth to husband, children, and to all who cross her threshold. the house is her dominion. there she is queen. what a tender and beautiful one she may become! some practical hints. the true home-maker does not spend all of her time with her ducks, chickens, pigs, and cows, nor yet with her neighbors, her club, nor her church. she finds some time to cultivate her intellectual nature and the finer feelings of her children. she does not degenerate into a mere household drudge. she is not the slave of her husband, but his companion. if she has musical ability, she keeps up the practice of her music; if she is inclined to literature, she reads some every day. whether literary or not, every woman should spend some time each day in reading that she might keep abreast with the world, at least with her companion, in the movements and thoughts of every-day life. the true home-maker plans to have a few minutes each day which she calls her own, in which she may do as she pleases regardless of call or duty, that she might relax herself, remove the strain of intense effort, rest, give her nature its free bent and inclination. it will pay her in every way. she will accomplish more and better work in the busy hours. a spirit and a force will characterize every effort. the women of to-day are overworked. they can not do themselves, their families, not their homes the true spiritual service that it is their part to do. plan for a few minutes rest with the daily routine of care. but how is one to do this with so many demands made upon her? for she is expected to be seamstress, laundress, maid, cook, hostess, a companion to her husband, a trainer of her children, a social being, and a helper in the church. if it is impossible or impracticable for one to have a servant, she will find these few minutes for daily recreation and study only in a wise choice of more important duties, and will allow the less important ones to go undone. many housewives could well afford to keep a helper. it becomes a question which is of greater importance, the life and health of the wife and mother, or the paltry wages of a servant? we knew a family in illinois who were quite able to keep help in the home, but did not do so. the mother made a slave of herself, in a few years broke in health, and left a large family of small children to struggle alone in the world. the stepmother, who soon came into the home, could afford one servant girl and part of the time two. this is a common experience in ill-managed homes. or this question arises, which is of greater importance, to make more money or to improve the moral tone of the home; to seek to gratify the outer senses, or to seek to elevate the spiritual life of the children and the parents? in pleading for rest and study for the mother in the home we plead for the highest interests of the entire family. for how can a wife be a companion to a husband when she is made irritable and nervous from overwork and worry. how can she be a true mother to her children and neglect their mental and spiritual growth? napoleon once said: "what france wants is good mothers, and you may be sure then that france will have good sons." thomas mccrie, an eminent scotch preacher, used to tell, with great feeling, of how his mother, when he was starting out for school in the city, accompanied him along the road a little way, and then leading him into the field where she could be alone, prayed with him, that he might be kept from sin in the city, and become a very useful man. that moment was the turning point in his life. a few minutes a day spent with the eager, susceptible child mind, will bring everlasting blessing upon the father and mother. healthful sports for boys by alfred rochefort contents spring chapter i marbles--how played marbles: where and how made; different games; terms of game; how to gain skill. chapter ii whip tops and top games whip tops, peg tops, and some other tops; how they are played; top games. chapter iii kites and how made about kites; how made; their practical uses; flying contests. chapter iv hoops, wheels and buzzers hoops, wheels and buzzers; stilts, different kinds; how used and how procured. chapter v let's go a-fishing "let's go a-fishing"; bait of many kinds and how to get it. fishing outfit; its care. summer chapter vi boating and canoeing useful hints on boating and canoeing. "don'ts" to be observed. definitions. chapter vii small sail boats how to make and manage small sail boats. chapter viii how to swim can you swim? how to learn. confidence. chapter ix styles of swimming styles of swimming; floating, diving; water games. chapter x things boys should know how sides are chosen in games of contest; some things all boys should know. chapter xi curious rhymes for games curious rhymes in counting out games. chapter xii tag and bull in the ring all about the good old game of tag, and bull in the ring. chapter xiii all about leap frog do you know all about leap frog? chapter xiv duck on the rock--cat dead turtle; duck on rock; brick skittles; tip cat; country cat; american cat. chapter xv ball, bat and racket and now for ball! some good games that can be played with ball, bat and racket. town ball; two old cats; hand ball. chapter xvi american baseball the great american game of baseball. some things every player should know. rules. autumn chapter xvii all about football the strenuous game of football. how to lay out the ground. pointers for players. chapter xviii mumbly peg--hop scotch mumbly peg; jackstones; hop scotch. chapter xix how to camp out how and where to prepare camp. a delightful way in which to spend a vacation, if you know the way. chapter xx bicycles and lassoes can you ride a bike? information on wheels. how to throw a lariat. chapter xxi golf, hockey and shinny the old scotch game of golf, hockey and shinny. winter chapter xxii skating--skiing--snow shoeing on the ice and snow. the royal sport of skating. some hints on skiing and snow shoes. chapter xxiii coasting--tobogganing--sleds coasting. how to make sleds. the bob sled. the toboggan. snow games. chapter xxiv general athletics walking, running, jumping. chapter xxv cries--shouts--college yells battle cries, hailing shouts, and college yells. chapter xxvi clever tricks vanishing feats. curious illusions. various deceptive amusements. chapter xxvii sleight-of-hand balancing. juggling. transformations. introduction among the many good and wise things said by the great lincoln was this: "give me the boy with promise of the man in him, and give me the man with the memory of the boy in him, and both can sit at my table, and if they sit together, we'll have all the better time!" this book of out-door games for boys will make better boys, and they'll get a lot more joy out of life and be the better men in time, for having read it and carried out its rules as to wholesome, honest sport. the boy who plays an honest game will do an honest business, and he'll win over "the sneak." if you are "a grown-up," read this book, and in doing so live over again the joyous, gladsome days of your boyhood, and you will sigh, as we do while writing this: "would i were a boy again!" we want the mother, as well as the father, to read this book, for it will recall the brothers of far-off days, and bring her into closer sympathy--we must not say "love," for that is already strong enough --with the exuberance of her boys. and the girls? why, bless you! they, too, should read every scrap of this book, for they will find in it many of their own games, and not one that they could not play and enjoy, if circumstances permitted. and the grand-parents? god bless them! why, they'll enjoy it quite as much as the young folks. spring chapter i marbles: where made; terms of the games; different games; how to acquire skill each season has its own particular work for the farmer, and he does his work without direction from or consultation with his neighbors or any one else. each season has its own particular games for the young folks, and they take to them without any suggestion from outsiders, just as young ducks take to water, without any instructions from the mother bird. the seasons in the south temperate zone are just the opposite to those in the north. some years ago i spent the months of july and august in new zealand, and great was my surprise to find the boys down at dunedin snowballing on the fourth of july, while the sleigh-bells made music through the streets. in the following october, which is the spring month in victoria, australia, i found the youngsters of melbourne playing marbles, just as the boys in new york had been doing when i left it the previous may. marbles we have reason to believe that the first marbles were fashioned from pebbles on the ocean's shore, or ground into roundness by the action of river currents. we do not know when or where marbles originated, but of the antiquity of the game we are very sure. egyptian boys played marbles before the days of moses, and marbles are among the treasures found buried in the ruins of pompeii, which you will remember was destroyed by an eruption of lava from vesuvius in the first century of the christian era. to-day marbles are played in every civilized land under the sun, and with slight differences, the method of shooting and the games are practically the same. germans are the greatest toy and game-makers in the world, and so we should not be surprised to learn that that great country not only produces the most marbles, but also the very best. from germany we get the finest "agates," the beauty and value of which every lover of the game knows. the more common marbles are made in saxony, of a fine kind of white limestone, which is practically a variety of the building material known as "marble," and from which the name is derived. broken into small pieces, and the irregular bits placed between two grooved grinders, the lower one being stone and the upper wood, power is applied, and after much rotating the spheres are turned out, hundreds at a time, and these are afterwards sorted and polished. glass marbles, some of which are imitation agates, are cast in moulds that close so perfectly that the place where they join cannot be seen in the finished product. china marbles are made from pottery-clay, and after being joined are baked, and sometimes they are painted. the small gray, brown or black marbles, usually called "commies," are little balls of clay, baked and glazed. these, being the cheapest, are the most numerous, and are usually the objects of attack, and so change owners the oftenest. names of marbles and play terms while the names of marbles and the terms of the game may vary slightly in different parts of the united states, they are in the main so much alike that the following will be understood by all boys throughout the land: the _taw_ or _shooter_ is the marble used for shooting. the _taw line_, or _scratch_, is a line drawn for a starting point in the game. _ducks_ are marbles to be shot at. _dubs_, an abbreviation of "doubles," means that you get all the marbles knocked out with one shot. _fen dubs_, an abbreviation of "defend doubles," is shouted by an opponent before the play, and means that you must put back all but one marble. _lofting_ means shooting through the air, so that your taw does not touch the earth till it hits the object aimed at or a point near it. _knuckling down_ means resting the knuckles on the ground while shooting. _histing_ or _hoisting_ is holding some distance above the ground. it is not permitted in bull ring or in meg-on-a-string. _roundsters_ means taking a new position to avoid an obstruction. it is not allowed in bull ring. _sidings_ means moving your taw from one side to the other in a straight line when about to shoot it is barred in bull ring. _burying_ is when the taw, if in a good spot, is forced into the ground with the heel of the shoe. this is seldom allowed; "fen buryings" being the accepted law of experts. _laying_ means placing the marbles in the ring. _clearances_ means the removal of all obstructions between the players and the ducks. _sneaking_ means shooting for a position. _babying_ is shooting so as not to send the taw too far. good players often do this so as to secure a position from which they can "skin the ring." _dabsters_ are little squares of cloth or skin laid under the knuckles when playing to keep them from being cut by constant contact with the hard ground. _marble bag_ saves pockets and explains itself. according to quality, marbles are known as "agates," "crystals," "chinas," "alleys," "potteries," and "commies," or the cheapest and least prized. the three great essentials of the game are the boys, the marbles, and suitable ground. the marble is shot from the hollow of the crooked index finger, and projected by the thumb. good shooting is often done in this way, but the most expert shots place the marble on the point of the index finger, and project it with a firmer grip of the thumb. this method is more difficult to acquire, but it pays as does everything that requires practice and effort. a good player, as in billiards, can make his taw carom for position, or he can make it remain stationary, while the marble struck shoots away in a straight line. some good games a boy can practice the above, and i would advise him to do so, but it takes at least two boys to make a game--just as it takes two to make a quarrel, and you must never be one of the latter. just here let me say that the boy who loses his temper, or who has not the manhood to accept defeat in the right spirit, does not make a desirable friend or playmate, for if he cannot conquer himself he is unfit to contest in the sports of youth or in the business of maturer years. fat fat is one of our oldest and simplest marble games. it is played in this way: make a ring eighteen inches or two feet in diameter; ten feet back draw or scratch a taw line to shoot from. if four boys are playing, each places a marble, as indicated, or if there are more players the marbles are placed at equal distances about the ring. the order of the play having been decided on, by shooting or rolling towards the taw line, the nearness to which decides the question, number one shoots for the ring, and if he knocks out a marble, he shoots again from where his taw rests, and so keeps on until he has missed. number two knuckles down at the taw line and shoots, as did number one. if the first taw is within range, he can shoot at that, and if he hits it, then number one must hand number two all the ducks he has knocked from the ring. if number two can hit number one's taw again, then number one is killed, and must retire from that game. when number two misses, the next in order shoots, either at the ring or at the line taw, and so the game proceeds till all the marbles are knocked out, or all but the last player are killed. in the second game, the first man killed is the last to shoot, and so they take turns in the order of their defeat this game is the more fascinating for its uncertainty, for often the last player knocks out the taw of one who so far has been getting all the ducks, and he gets credit for his score. followings can hardly be called a game. it is played by two boys--usually when they have more important business on hand; the first boy shoots in the direction both are traveling; the second follows, and whenever one chances to be hit it counts one for the shooter. knucks in this game, one boy, called "knucks," takes a small marble between his knuckles, then places the clenched hand on the ground. the other player knuckles down at the taw line, four or five feet away, and shoots--he must not roll--at the marble held by the other. every time the "knucks" marble is hit, it counts one for the shooter; each time he misses in the three shots, it counts an additional shot for "knucks" when it comes his turn. the long ring about eight or nine feet from the taw line make an elongated ring, composed of two sections of a circle, crossing each other. draw a circle down the center of the long ring, and on this place the marbles. if there are only two players, then each lays a duck at the intersection of the curves. each additional player adds a duck to the line. where there are only two players, the first is sure to "sneak," that is, to roll his taw so that it will rest near one of the marbles in the ring. if number two hits number one, and so kills him, he wins the game, but if there are more than two in the game, number one is put out. number two has another shot, from the place where his taw rests, at the ducks in the ring, and he keeps on till he misses. so the game is kept up till all the ducks are knocked from the ring. if it is agreed in advance, each player may lay more than one duck in the ring. in this game the killed are not dead, if there are more than two players. they can play when the turn comes, but it must always be from the taw line. the bull ring this is one of the oldest and best games. the ring should be from four to ten feet in diameter. the ducks are placed in the form of a cross, in the middle of the ring, the number each is to "whack up" being agreed upon in advance. the order of play is usually decided on by knuckling down and rolling for the opposite side of the ring. the first player "lofts" at the ducks. he must drive the marble outside the ring for a win. if his own taw goes outside, the successful player can come back to the ring edge for his next shot. if it is a miss and the taw goes outside the ring, it must be replaced inside at the point of exit. when a taw is struck the owner is "dead" for that game, and the successful player keeps on shooting till he misses. when two or more ducks are knocked out of the ring, the player is entitled to raise his score by that number, provided he shouts "dubs" before the others cry "fen dubs." if a player is caught "hunching," that is, pushing his fist beyond the line while shooting, and makes a hit, he must replace the marble and shoot over again. "histings" and the use of "bowlers" are barred in the bull ring. "sneaking," that is, shooting the taw so that it will rest near the middle of the ring, is allowed. if this taw is not hit, it may be able to skin the ring when its turn comes. a dead man, when his turn comes, and there are enough ducks remaining to warrant the risk, may re-enter the game by placing in the ring twice as many marbles as were at first required, and an additional duck near the edge of the ring; on this duck he caroms so as to send it out, then if his taw is in a good place, he may come out ahead. duck-in-a-hole make three shallow holes, and about ten feet away draw the taw line. the holes are three feet apart. the object of each player is to shoot his taw so that it will enter and stay in the first hole. if he succeeds, he is allowed to place his thumb on the far edge of the first hole, and using his hand as a pair of dinders, by a twist of the wrist he marks with his longest finger a curved line on the ground. this is called "taking a span." from the span line he shoots at the second hole, and if successful continues on to the third. if this is won, he takes a span backward for the middle hole. if he reaches the first hole, he repeats it over, but this time he is entitled to two spans. the third time, if there is no miss, he can take three spans, and if he succeeds, he becomes a "king duck," and takes four spans. if the first player misses, and the second player rolls into the first hole, he takes a span and shoots--if it is near--at the first taw, and if he hits, he can place his taw in the second hole, and so on till he misses. when number one's turn comes, he must shoot from the spot where his taw rests. in this game the first king has a great advantage because of his four spans. each time a player hits another, he scores one point, and the hit loses one. by the time all have become king ducks the game is over, or it may be decided in advance that when one has made five or ten points, the game shall end. meg-in-a-hole differs from the foregoing game, in the fact that there is no taw line. the player shoots from one end at the middle hole. if he succeeds, he is entitled to a span, and he keeps on as before till he becomes a king. before this, he can take but one span in any direction, but as a king, he can take one foot measure--his own foot --and a span from the first hole; two feet and a span from the second hole, and three feet and a span from the third hole. this gives him a great advantage, and if there is no rival king he is "monarch of all he surveys." if there is a second king, the first one assigns him the first hole to guard, because from this he can take only one foot and a span. when all become kings, or the points agreed on are won, the game is over. square ring a "square ring" sounds odd, but such things go in playing marbles. the square may be of any size, but four feet is the best. the taw line must be from twenty to thirty feet away. before a player can win the game he must first kill all the others. perhaps that is why it is sometimes called "injun." the first player is at a great disadvantage, for if he knocks out a duck he must replace it, and if his taw stops inside the ring he has killed himself, and is out of the game. the best way is not to knuckle down but to toss for a good position near the ring. the second player, for obvious reasons, must keep away as far as possible from the first, so he shoots through the ring with force, hoping to get a duck on the way, for he does not have to replace it. he can take the duck back to taw and holding it in his left hand shoot at it so as to send his own taw close to number one, which he can then kill. if number two misses, number three pitches his marble off to one side, and so the game goes on, each player guarding his own taw and trying to kill his rivals. knocking out ducks gives the privilege just described, after which the duck is replaced. chapter ii whip tops, peg tops, humming tops and some top games why it happens, no one knows, not even the boys themselves, but that it does happen we all know. tops come in when the marble game is in full blast, and gradually it drives out, till another spring, its beloved rival. tops are of great antiquity, and the chinese and their neighbors, the japanese, are famous for the variety of their tops. i have seen adults in those countries enjoying the game with all the zest of american boys in springtime. it is a good idea for boys, where they have any facilities for so doing, to make their own play tools. in the old days, they whittled out tops, but it hardly pays to do so to-day when well-shaped spinners can be had in every toy shop at a very low price. however, good little tops can be made from the wooden spools on which sewing thread comes. two tops, that will amuse the younger children, can be made from each spool, by whittling down from the rims to the middle of the spool till the parts break at the opening. a peg driven through answers for a spindle. these can be made in a few minutes, and may afford some fun for a winter evening. whip tops if not the very oldest, these tops are certainly the most widely distributed. if a good whip top cannot be bought, a first-rate article can be made from a section of a rounded timber, either natural or turned. it may be of any size, but from two to three inches in diameter, and about a half inch or more in length is the best. whittle this, with care, to a blunt point, into which drive a smooth-headed tack, and there you are. with colored crayons, or paint, the top may be decorated, so as to add to its effect when spinning. tough rags, or leather thongs fastened to a handle about a foot in length, will make an effective lash, but the best whips are made from pliant leather thongs, or still better, from a dried eelskin. to spin the top, put your whip under your left arm--i have seen boys grasp it between their teeth--then with the flat of the fingers of both hands on either side of the top, give a smart twirl. as soon as the top is in motion, ply your whip along the sides, drawing the lash quickly away at each stroke. playing whip-top alone soon gets to be monotonous, but where there are two a "fight" can be arranged for. at the word "go," two boys spin their tops, and then lash them till they crash together. the tops must be kept within a described ring, and the one that knocks the other out is regarded as the king top. if a boy strikes his opponent's top, it is a "foul," and he loses the game. another contest is where, after the lashing, one calls "stop." the one that "dies" first, is naturally out. racing is done by drawing a taw line, from which the whip tops start for a designated goal, the first one in winning. this is an exciting game and not so easy as at first appears. the tin or wooden humming top is but an interesting toy. the japanese make them with a slit in the point which fits into a string or a thin wire, and on such supports they can be made to do remarkable feats. the peg top the peg top is, after all, the king of the top family, and the greatest source of joy to the youth with a sure eye and a steady hand. the "plugger" is the top you spin; the "bait" is the top you strike with the plugger. a "giggler" is an unsteady top that goes dancing and hopping about. boys love their "old reliable taw" in marbles, but their pride in this is never so great as that which they take in a conquering plugger. this should have what is known as a screw peg, which prevents splitting. it can be made, but on the whole, i think it better to buy the pegs. a good, stout, pliant cord is quite as necessary as a well-balanced top. it should have a button, never a loop, to keep it from slipping through the fingers, and it should be of a thickness to fill, without overlapping the grooves. the end should be frayed and moistened to insure a firm grip when starting to wind. it requires much practice to become expert in spinning the peg, but, as in everything else, it pays to learn accuracy. as with whip top, playing alone soon ceases to be good fun, but the game makes for enjoyment. mark out a bull ring about six feet in diameter. put as many tops inside the small ring as there are players, then toss up, or in any other way decide on the order of play. after winding up his peg, the first player, with his left foot toeing the outer ring, strikes for the tops in the center. if he misses and fails to spin, or if he strikes outside the inner circle, he must put another top within the circle and await his turn. if he strikes the tops with the big end of his plugger, it is a miss, and he must replace any top knocked out; but if the peg of the plugger hits a top and knocks it out of the center ring, he pockets it and has another whack. if in spinning in the center ring the plugger jostles out a top or tops, it counts as a hit, and the player is entitled to another "try." if the plugger spins and dies in the ring without knocking out a top, it is a miss, and the player must add another top. sometimes a crack player throws with such force and accuracy as to split a bait top. this is the acme of the game and the crowning glory of the player. often the bait consists of toothless, battered wrecks, but this does not lessen the fun of the game. chapter iii kites: where found; how made; their practical uses; closely related to aeroplanes--a great sport spring winds favor kite flying. this is another world-wide sport, and it was popular with old and young in china--the land of the kite--at the time when the egyptians were cutting stones for the pyramids. everybody knows, or should know, what the great ben. franklin did by means of a kite, though the kite through which he learned the nature of lightning was of a model that is not often seen at this time. this was the old bow kite, the kind that every beginner learns to make, and which needs no detailed description here. the hexagonal or coffin-shaped kite is more reliable than the old sort, and is quite as cheap and as easily made. kites of both these kinds have been used to get a line from a stranded vessel to the shore, and engineers have used them. they did it when the first suspension bridge was built at niagara, to get a line across the chasm, which gradually grew into the great suspending cables. kites have been used to draw light vehicles over smooth ground, and they make good sport when made to draw sleds over the ice, or as "top- loftical" sails for small boats. i have seen in new york a tandem team of ten kites used for advertising purposes. the star kite is easily made and is well worth doing. get three sticks or sections of light string, both of equal length. these are fastened in the center, so that, with the ends of the sticks equal distances apart, they will form a six-pointed star. the covering should be of thin, close cotton cloth, or, better still, of light, strong paper, which must be pasted so as to present the side of greatest resistance to the wind, else it will soon be blown off. the tail band is simply a loop fastened to the sticks at the bottom so that it will hang below the kite, and balance it when it ascends. the belly-bands for support and steering--in the latter case two lines are used--must never be attached below the central cross-piece. boys often find fun in sending "messengers" up the strings to the kites. after the kite is up a good height, round pieces of colored paper with a hole in the center and a slit by means of which they are slipped on the string, are sent up. they travel with the speed of the wind till they reach the kite, where they stop. if too heavy, or too many, the messengers may get the kite out of balance. a messenger has been sent up , feet, or over one mile. that is the height to which american scientists have sent kites with thermometers and barometers attached, so as to record the elevation and the temperature. the hargrave, or box kite, is something new and hitherto unheard of in the kite line. rigidity and strength, without too much weight, are the prime essentials of the hargrave. it may be made by a boy with a knack for mechanics in the following way: take eight stiff, slender pieces of bamboo, eighteen and three-quarter inches in length, such as are sometimes used for fishing poles. these pieces must be of uniform weight and length, and as nearly alike as possible. next cut six sticks, each eleven inches long, and as nearly alike as possible. these are for the middle uprights and end stretchers. after finding the middle of the longer sticks, lash them together in pairs by means of stout waxed thread, or light brass wire. notch the ends of the sticks and make the spread between a and c just eleven inches. this will give you four pairs of crossed sticks. next take one of your eleven-inch uprights, and bind it to the two pairs of cross-sticks. take the other eleven-inch upright and fasten the other two pairs of cross-sticks in the same way. this done, cut two spines, or connecting rods of bamboo, each thirty inches long and as nearly alike as possible. next, with waxed thread, or light wire, bind the two spines over the ends of the eleven-inch stretchers. the spine must fit like the top of a letter t over the stretchers and be square; that is, at right angles with the stretcher. each end of the spine must project beyond the uprights five and one- half inches; that is, the ends must each be five and one-half inches long, which leaves nineteen inches between points named. bind the other four stretchers to the ends of the sticks. now string the frame so that all the sticks, except the diagonals, shall be at right angles, or "perfectly square," as boys say. this done, paint all the joints with glue. the frame when finished should measure x x . this is the measure for each of the two boxes or cells, which should have eight inches between. cover the frame with a strong, light cloth that will not stretch, and sew it on so as to form two boxes covered at the top, bottom and ends. the two broadsides of each one are left open to receive the wind. on the bottom boom, at or near the edge of the cloth cover, fasten a small brass ring for a belly-band. if the foregoing be well done, you will have a kite on the principle of a flying machine, and you will be up with the times. _kite string_ must be considered. in a light wind and with an ordinary kite, good, strong twine answers all purposes, but with large kites and a stiff breeze, the best string is a twisted linen line. learn how to tie knots that won't come undone, and take care not to cut or blister your hands in letting out or hauling in. tailless kites are fast superceding the old-time kind, and they are quite as easy to make and are much easier to manage. here are directions for making it: they can be made in different sizes and flied tandem, from twenty to hundreds of feet apart. the longitudinal stick should be of strong spruce, sixty inches in length and about three-eighths or one-half inch in width and thickness. it can be of any size, if these proportions are maintained. the cross-piece should be a similar stick and of equal length. when in position it is slightly bent, say four per cent, of its length. the frame should be of light spruce, the same size as the cross-pieces. care must be taken to have the angles right. when the frame is finished, cover loosely with manila paper, so that there will be some concavity on the face of the kite on each side below the cross-stick, so that it will belly like a sail; bind the edges with thin wire which stretches less than string. this kite will fly in a very light breeze. the string, particularly if you have a tandem, should be flexible and strong. in a stiff breeze, and with more than one kite, it is well to have a reel, as in a fishing rod, for hauling in. the best way with tandem kites is not, as is usually done, to fasten one kite behind the other on the same string, but to hitch each kite by means of a separate string to the main cord. the tail kite will do for tandem, but as the tails are apt to get snarled, it is not so desirable as the tailless kind. the barrel kite as the bird and the butterfly kites of the chinese can be bought at a low price, i shall not attempt a description of them here, but the barrel kite, which is distinctly american, cannot be ignored. this kite was tried some years ago by the u. s. weather bureau officers in california. it is cylindrical in form, about four feet long, and two feet in diameter. the frame is made up of four light hoops, braced together by four or more thin strips of wood. the twelve-inch space between the pair of hoops at either end is covered with a collar of paper, and the string, by which the kite is held, is attached to a stick, which passes diagonally through the inside of the cylinder from end to end. when this kite catches the wind it lifts quickly and gracefully. as it is easily made, i should like some of my young readers to try it. i have not seen a barrel kite in a tandem, but i can't see why it should not work. between kites on a tandem line, flags of same size, and of any designs that may be thought of, may be strung with good effect. chapter iv some other spring amusements, not forgetting stilts it is said that hoops are loosing their popularity, but be that as it may, i am very sure they will never go out of fashion with the young folk who delight in a good outdoor run, while at the same time they find work for the eyes and the hand. neat iron hoops, with a crooked iron hook to propel, i find much in use, but--and it may be because i am a bit old-fashioned--i much prefer the well-made, wooden hoop with a wooden stick. why, i've had no end of fun with a wooden barrel hoop, but i could never make the iron barrel hoop respond to my urging. some makers have attached bells and other jinglers to hoops, but no boy fit to wear boots cares for these baby contrivances. small light wheels--they can be had from a retired baby carriage--are excellent things to trundle, and some of them require more skill than does a hoop. even tin-can covers or the top of a blacking box may be made to afford fun and test skill. when i was a boy, and i am sure boys do so still, we used to make buzz wheels out of circular tincan tops. two holes, about an inch apart, were cut near the center of the tin. through both openings a string was passed and the ends tied. by trowling, the strings--its ends were held one in each hand--are made to twist. when tight enough, the ends are drawn, and the buzzer starts off with such force that it half winds itself up on the other start. the sucker is a good philosophical toy, for it illustrates air pressure and affords some fun. if you don't know how to make one, this is the way: get a piece of thin sole leather, about four inches square. trim off the corners till the shape is nearly round; next lay the leather on a flat substance and bevel off the edges until they are as thin as you can make them. now, without cutting through to the under side, cut a hole through the top of the leather, just large enough to force the end of a strong string through. before using, soak the leather till it is soft. next find quite a flat stone or brick, force the sucker to the top with your foot, taking care that there is no turned edge, then you can walk off with that stone, forgetting that it is not the stick of the sucker, but the air pressure--some fifteen pounds to the square inch-- that holds the two together. stilts are as old and as world-wide in their use as marbles, tops and kites. these are the things that set the boy up in the world without making him too proud. the first stilts i ever used--i was brought up on a farm--i cut "with my little hatchet." they were made from two beech saplings, with the section of a branch retained at the same height on each for foot rests, and the length sufficient to come under the arms and be easily grasped. these were rude makeshifts, but they did to start with, and on them i learned to balance. much better stilts can be made from sticks or board strips, of sufficient length for grasping with the hands, and with foot rests nailed at any required height from the ground part. in the "gadabout" stilt you will notice that the stilt above the foot rest is strapped to the leg, just below the knee, which leaves both hands free. any boy with tools, timber and leather for straps can make "gadabouts," and the arm stilt is still simpler. the natives of the marquesas islands use very high stilts, and they become so expert in their use as to dance with them and to wear them in wrestling matches. the shepherds on the flat plains in the south of france use stilts to enable them to look over a wide stretch of country, and they become so expert in their use that they can travel twice as fast as an ordinary walker on foot. they carry a long pole for balancing purposes and to take soundings when wading through bog or water. spanish stilts differ from the "gadabouts" in that they reach to the hips, and are strapped securely about the thighs. these can be made at home, but it requires much practice to become expert. chapter v let's go a-fishing--something about bait do not despise the earth worm. scientists tell us that without this creature's work in preparing the soil, but little of the earth's surface would be fit for cultivation. to its voluntary efforts we owe our supplies of vegetable food, but not satisfied with this, we conscript him that he may help us to catch fish. some boys, and men too, make hard work of getting worm bait, but in this, as in everything else, it all depends on how one goes about it. if you are going a-fishing in the morning, secure your bait to-night. worms are nocturnal, and they come out of their holes at night, provided it is not too dry on top. the ideal time for scooping them in is about dusk, after a long warm rain. get a lantern and with it carry your bait can half filled with wet moss or soft moist earth. you will find, if the conditions are right, swarms of worms along the edges of beaten paths, or in the short grass alongside. usually the worm has one end of its body in a hole, and as it is very alert, you must catch it before it has time to think, perhaps i should say, to act. for this purpose the bait gatherers will do better in pairs. one holds the can and lantern, while the other seizes the worm. always grab the worm at the place just above the earth. worms, i mean bait worms, are not all of one family, nor is each family equally inviting to fish. the red, fat fellows never come amiss, but the light, flabby kind afford no great lure for even the hungriest sort of a fish. the worm that keeps its tail a-wiggling after he is on the hook, is just the thing. the manure worm, the marsh worm, and a worm found at the root of the sweet flag, all make good bait; but the best of all is the night-crawling earth-worm. angle worms are best kept in a tin box in which a number of holes are pierced to admit air, but they must not be so large as to let the worms out. moist, but not too wet wood or other moss is better than earth as a nest for worms, if they are to be kept some time. keep your bait box in a cool, damp place, and whenever you want worms, lift the moss and you will find the worms hanging to it. soap suds or luke-warm water, if poured over a place where there are worms, will bring them to the surface. if at the same time you pound on the ground, it is said their egress will be hastened. slugs as bait the hellgrammite, a black, ugly slug to be found under stones in summer streams, is the most tempting bait you can offer a black bass. after a time the hellgrammite comes to the surface and takes to the air as a beetle, but in that state he interests the naturalist rather than the fisherman. grub worms are the larvae of beetles, and may be found about manure heaps and in rotten logs. they make good bait for trout, bass, perch, cats and other fish, and they may be kept, but not for long, in the manner described for worms. gentles, or the grub of the blue-bottle fly, are an excellent bait for trout, though they are not good to look at nor pleasant to handle. these can be cultivated by placing offal in a tin can, and keeping it where it will be safe from rats or mice and inoffensive to the nostrils of passersby. in this the blue-bottles will lay their eggs, which will soon develop into gentles. they can be kept in a box filled with moist sand or bran. if kept too long they will start off as flies. the katydids, which raise such a racket from the trees, particularly at night and after the middle of july, are rather hard to get, but they pay for the trouble, particularly if you want to tempt pike or pickerel. black crickets are always abundant in pasture fields, and are tempting to all kinds of fish, but particularly to bass and trout. they should be kept in a roomy box with chips and stones to hide under at the bottom; otherwise, they will kill and eat each other. the grasshopper is nearly as good as the cricket, and it is easily captured and kept. they will live for some time in a box filled with green grass. frogs, if not too large, are a standard bait for pike, salmon, pickerel, and bass. frogs are best caught with a net, but they will take a small hook baited with a bit of red flannel, or they will bite without the hook. be careful in fastening the frog to your hook not to injure it so that it cannot swim. the hook through the web of the hind feet, or through the skin of the back, is, i think, the best way. "live" minnow are easily procured, and, on the whole, they make the most reliable bait. a small, fine-meshed net, fashioned like a sieve and handled by two, is one of the best means of collecting minnows. they should be kept in a bucket and taken out with a scoop made of meshed wire, and the water should be frequently changed. crawfish, to be found under stones in many shallow brooks, make a good bait. keep them in a box filled with wet moss or aquatic plants. by dead bait is meant bits of pork, fresh beef, or even other fish cut up into tempting morsels for "skittering"; that is, where you cast your line with a sinker, and then haul it in over the water, usually by lifting the pole, walking back, or reeling in; a dead frog or a dead fish is just as good as a live one. boys, as a rule, prefer to fish with bait, leaving artificial flies to the seniors. any small live creature will answer for bait; even mice have been used with good effect, and cheese, if it can be kept on the hook, is eagerly swallowed, in bottom fishing, by carp and catfish. when i was a boy we used to string our catches, through the gills, on a cut switch, but if it can be had, a fish basket is better. fishing tackle should be considered. this is of every variety, from the bent pin fastened to a string, and the string fastened to a stick, which most of us began with, up to the elaborate and costly rods, reels and flies of the wealthy sportsmen. boys, who seldom use reels, will find the bamboo, which is sold cheap, the lightest and strongest rod for general use. hooks are of endless size and variety, as are fishing lines. these must be bought with regard to the kind of fish they are to be used on, and of these, boys on the ground are the best judges. but let me urge this: when the fishing season is over do not throw your pole, line and hooks carelessly to one side, but clean them, wrap them, and put them away in safety for another season. the boy who does not take good care of the tools that give him pleasure is making a bad preparation for the serious business of life. summer [blank page] chapter vi hints about boating and canoeing the following rhyme was thought to be very funny when i was a boy: "mother, dear, may i go in to swim? yes, my lovely daughter; hang your clothes on a hickory limb, but don't go near the water." i must reserve for "swimming" a good long chapter, but let me say in all seriousness, before writing anything about boating, that every boy should learn to swim before he undertakes to manage a boat, or even to handle a raft. it is surprising at what an early age this most essential art is acquired, and once learned, it is never forgotten. it is better, if you are going a-boating, not to wear your sunday-go- to-meeting clothes. any old clothes will do, provided they are not too heavy. shoes are always in the way, more particularly if you should be sent splashing overboard. a bathing suit, good for a swim or a row, can be made from an old undershirt, with the sleeves cut short. an old pair of drawers, cut off at the knees and hemmed will do, and these can be fastened to the shirt by a light belt or buttons. of course, in such a rig as i have described, you are pretty sure to get sunburned to start off with, and i need not tell you that there is no fun about that. now, if you stand the exposure for about an hour and then cover up, and the next day try an hour and a half, and so on, the skin will turn at first to a light pink and gradually pass to a brown, without the slightest pain or inconvenience. or if you begin by covering the exposed parts with sweet oil, vaseline, lard, or mutton tallow, without salt, you will not suffer from sunburn. as i have said, learn to swim, but in the event of a capsize, even if you can swim, stick to your boat or canoe till help comes, unless you should be so close to the shore as to be quite sure of reaching it, and even then it is best to tow the boat along. every canoe should be provided with cork life preservers. they are cheap and can be used as seats, if placed in the bottom. every boy, whether living by an inland stream, where a boat can be used, or at the seashore, should know the names of the different parts of boats. here is a short definition of the terms that may be of use: the bow is the front end of the boat. the stern is the rear end. fore'ard means toward the bow. aft, toward the stern. the hull is the part of the boat without masts, spars, oars, or rigging. the keel, like the runner of a skate, runs along the center of the bottom of the boat. it keeps a boat under sail from sliding sideways. starboard is the right-hand side of the boat as you face the bow. port is the left-hand side, looking in the same direction. after dark ships and boats carry a red light at the bow on the port side, and a green light on the starboard. the rudder is a movable piece of board at the stern, by means of which the craft is steered. it is worked by a lever, ropes, or a wheel. the lever is called "the tiller." the helm is that part of the machinery you grasp when steering. the deck is the roof of the hull. the center board is an adjustable keel that can be lowered or raised at pleasure. the masts are upright poles to support the rigging and sails. the yards are poles hung on the masts at right angles to them, from which the sails hang when in use, and on which they are furled or folded when not in use. the boom is the movable spar at the bottom of the sail. the gaff is the pole or spar for spreading the top or head of the sail. the sail is really a canvas kite fastened to the boat. the bowsprit is the stick projecting from the bow. the rigging consists of the ropes attached to masts and bowsprit. stays are strong ropes for supporting the masts fore and aft. shrouds are strong supporting ropes reaching from the masts to the sides of the boat. ratlines are little ropes fastened to the shrouds by which sailors may climb up or down. the painter is a rope at the bow, used to fasten small boats as a halter fastens a horse. windward means the side of the boat against which the wind blows. leeward, opposite side to windward. ballast weights of stone, iron or bags of sand used to balance the boat. a good way to learn about the parts of a boat is to whittle out a small working model. this is a help, but only the actual experience can teach you how to manage a sail and at the same time steer the boat. of course, you can learn this for yourself, but the better way is to serve an apprenticeship to some more experienced companion. the first essential to a sail boat is that it should be well made and properly balanced. the second, that it should be carefully rigged, and the third that the man in charge should know just how to avail himself of these advantages. sailing before the wind is easy enough. it is in tacking and beating up against the wind that skill and care are required. jibing, that is changing the boom and sail when tacking, requires the greatest care, particularly if the wind is stiff, and beginners should never be permitted to attempt it. where the water is apt to be rough, the sail of every boat should be provided with reefing points--that is little ropes. they are on both sides of the sail. the sail is rolled up from the bottom and tied down to the boom. this is called "reefing" or "shortening" sail. at nights small boats and canoes should carry lights, as before indicated. it is a difficult thing to make a sailor through books. the best that can be done is to advise what to do, and still more, _what not to do._ advice don't overload the boat. don't carry too much sail. don't trust yourself alone in strange waters. don't leave your anchor at home. don't forget your oars. don't sit on the gunwale-the edge of the boat. don't alter course too suddenly. don't let go the helm for an instant. don't mistake caution for cowardice. don't be afraid to reef. don't let your gear get snarled. don't jibe in a stiff wind. don't get rattled. don't sail with "fool" companions. of course, there are many other "don'ts" that will suggest themselves to the sensible boy; among them, "don't fail to keep your boat pumped out or bailed," and "don't forget to carry an anchor of some sort," and not the least important," don't leave your eatables and drinkables ashore." chapter vii some small, sail boats that can be made in the winter, or that can be bought without much money there is no small boat so popular or so generally useful as the american catboat. the cat can sail into the very eye of the wind, while before the wind she is a flier, and yet she is not the best sail boat for a beginner. let me tell you why: first, the sail is heavy and so it is hard to hoist and reef. second, in going before the wind there is constant danger of jibing with serious results. third, the catboat has a very bad habit of rolling when sailing before the wind, and each time the boat rolls from side to side she is liable to dip the end of her heavy boom in the water and "trip herself up." when a boat trips up she does not necessarily go down, but she is likely to upset, placing the young sailors in an unenviable, if not dangerous, position. fourth, when the craft begins to swagger before the wind she is liable to "goose neck," that is throw her boom up against the mast, which is another accident fraught with the possibilities of serious mischief. mr. dan beard, the famous american artist and author, and an authority in such matters, thinks the sloop is the most graceful of all the single masters. this is the type of our great yacht racers. next to the sloop, and very much like it, is the schooner rig yacht. this is a fine boat, but beyond the pockets of boys; however, smaller sizes can be rigged on the same plan, with a jib and mainsail, and they will be found to be both safe and swift. the construction without careful working drawings, which but few boys could manage without the aid of a skilled workman, it would be impossible to show just how a good sail boat can be made. it should be said, however, that the ordinary rowboat may be easily changed into a sail boat, provided a keel is attached, or a lee board provided. the latter, as you know, is a broad piece of board that is slipped, when needed, into a groove along the side of the boat, to keep it from drifting when the wind is not full astern. good, light string timber that is easily worked should always be chosen. see that it is free from knots; if this cannot be had, do not try to build a boat. after all, unless all the conditions are favorable, and you have great talent for such work, it will be easier to save your money and then buy such a boat as you need, or if you cannot do this, get a carpenter who knows how to build such a craft to make the boat for you. i have known cases where a number of boys, living near the water, bought a sail boat which they owned in common. each had the right to its use on a fixed day, though, as they were school fellows, it happened that they usually went out together. the latter is the better way, provided always that when the crew starts off for a cruise it is distinctly understood that one of the number is to be the captain for the time and is to be obeyed accordingly. it was told when i was a boy, but i doubted the story then and i don't believe it now, that when migrating squirrels, that do not take kindly to the water, reach a wide stream they secure bits of wood or bark large enough to float them, then with their tails erect to catch the wind they sail gaily across. the natives of north australia, the most primitive people of whom we have any knowledge, use logs, singly or lashed together with vines, to cross rivers and arms of the sea. canoes our own american indians were more advanced. even the rudest of them had learned before the coming of the white man to hollow out the log by means of fire and to shape it with stone axes into the form of the present canoe. the birch-bark canoe, made by the indians of the northern rivers and lakes, is really a work of art. it is a model of lightness, and when we consider its frailty, and then the way in which it can be managed in the most turbulent currents, our admiration is divided between the craft of the maker and the surprising skill of the man who handles the paddle. the ancestor of the graceful yacht and of the great ocean steamers, that carry their thousands with as much comfort as if they were on shore, is the rude canoe or raft of our own forefathers. it is from these forefathers that we have inherited our love for outdoor life, for fishing and for water, and the instinctive desire to hunt which is inborn in every healthy boy. evolution in the evolution of water craft, the vessel propelled by pole, paddle or oar must have preceded the use of sails. the former required more strength and the latter more skill. but no matter what science and art may do to make sailing more secure and comfortable, the boy, particularly if he be country bred, and so forced to be more self- reliant, will have a try at the raft, dingey or canoe before he aspires to anything more elaborate and expensive. i like work that develops the ingenuity of the boy. on a long mill pond out in kentucky--this was some years ago--i came upon some boys who were managing a raft propelled by a sail made from two bed sheets. the body of this strange craft consisted of four logs, sharpened at the bow and of varying length, so as to present a wedge point to the water. across the logs cleats were nailed that kept them together and answered for a deck. a stout pole, secured in front, served for a mast and a smaller pole, with a piece of board nailed to the end, acted as a rudder. on board this strange craft there were four boys and a dog, the latter, judging from his barking, quite wild with the fun of it. before the wind this sailing raft made good time, but as the craft refused to tack, the boys lowered the sail and poled back for another try, just as boys clamber up hill in winter for the sheer joy of coasting down. other boats we have learned from the south sea islanders how to build and manage a catamaran. this consists of two canoes or long thin boats, placed parallel and joined together by wooden strips, which also answer for a deck. this craft can be rowed or driven by a sail, placed well forward. its great advantage is its stiffness, for it cannot be upset in an ordinary sea. the dingey, shaped like the bottom of a flatiron, with a blunt stern and a sharp nose, is the boat with which the boy in the country first makes acquaintance. it is propelled by two oars, usually fastened to the sides by pivot row-locks. this is a handy boat for getting about in, but it is quite impossible to learn the art of rowing from such a mechanical contrivance. rowing properly done, there is no single exercise that develops the arms, chest, back and leg muscles as does rowing. whether your boat is a dingey or an expensive rowing shell, always enter it, if the purpose is pleasure and exercise, with the determination to get the best out of it. be sure that your oars are of the right length, so as to avoid the contact of the ends. have the row-locks so arranged that the oars will turn or move in any direction without creaking or strain. the braces for the feet should be movable, so as to accommodate any length of leg, and the seat should not be too high. there are many styles of rowing, none of which may be discussed here. it is well at the start to learn how to "feather" your oars, whether you are handling one or two. this consists in bringing the edge of the blade parallel with the water--a splendid exercise for the wrists-- then turning the blade as it reaches the water, and with all the strength of every muscle drawing the oars steadily, never jerkily, till the stroke is finished. the one purpose is to keep up a uniform speed, and this can be done only by a uniform stroke. endurance, rather than mere brute strength, is the thing to be kept in mind in rowing, as in everything else requiring effort. always have in reserve a stock of endurance to be used should occasion require. never start out with a dash, even if you are in a hurry, but strike a gait that you can keep up without making severe demands on that most essential of all the organs--the heart. the canoe the canoe, as you know, is managed by a single paddle, though i have seen, up in some of the adirondack lakes, canoes that were driven by oars. but, excepting in name and shape, these were not canoes; they were long, narrow boats. the indian, and the white man who would learn the fine art of canoeing, sits in the bottom of the canoe and close to the stern end, though in fact a canoe is all stern and all bow, sailing equally well no matter which end is in front. the indian does not paddle on one side and then on the other. he uses, as a rule, the left hand side. he grasps the blade right hand at the top, left hand a foot or more down, and then reaching the paddle forward, he digs it into the water with a strong, firm grip, keeping it perpendicular and drawing it aft. when the paddle is abreast his erect body, he suddenly turns the blade so as to bring the flat against the body of the canoe. this acts at once as a lee board and a rudder. with these graceful movements the canoe is managed from one side, and can be made to go as straight as a bullet to a bull's-eye. unlike the dingey or flat bottom boat, the canoe is easily upset. therefore the paddler and his passengers, if he have any, must sit on the bottom. never rise unless you are alongside a float or dock. the boy or the man who "rocks the boat for fun" is either idiotic or insane; in either case he is unfit to care for precious human lives. now, the ordinary boat will stand a little of such fooling, but the canoe refuses to be rocked. at the first insult of that kind it very properly dumps out its occupants. the canvas canoe the lightness of the birch bark canoe is not the least of its advantages; but as birch bark is not available in the settled parts of our country, a substitute was desired, a substitute quite as light and of a material that would not be seriously injured by dents. this was found in a canvas cover over a light wicker, collapsible frame. a frame can be made of bamboo, rattan, willow or light strong pieces of pliant wood such as spruce or hickory. the pieces can be joined with screws or wire, never nails. the length as to breadth to insure safety should be as eight to one, though many canoes are narrower. with tools and material, both of which are easily obtained, any boy, with patience and some skill, can construct a frame to his own liking. the frame must be covered with a light, strong canvas, cut and sewed to make a good fit. when this is done, paint the canvas inside and out, taking care to paint under the frame, which can be removed if necessary. a second and even a third coat of paint may be needed. canvas covers should be made for the aft and front decks, under which a small tent or camping appliances can be carried. in a canoe of this kind, fourteen feet long and eighteen inches wide, three young american students made a voyage from the head-waters of the rhine to holland and the north sea. they made the canoe in paris, and carried it in a bundle to switzerland. this vessel held a complete camping outfit and provisions. chapter viii if you can't swim, learn at once--helps to learners--confidence is the thing every animal, except man, can swim naturally on finding itself in the water for the first time, for it takes a position nearly the same as if it were on land and walking. the physical structure of man, the lord of creation, is not so favorably adapted for his making his way through the water, his head being much heavier in proportion to its size than his trunk, while he has to make an entirely new departure, in abandoning his customary erect position, and has to adopt movements of the limbs to which he has not previously been accustomed. still, the specific gravity of the human body, particularly when the cavity of the chest is filled with air, is lighter than that of water, in proportion to the obesity of the individual, stout people being able to float more easily than those of spare build. there are thousands and thousands of boys in this vast country who have never seen big rivers, like the ohio and mississippi, or beheld the broad ocean, with its white, sandy beach and small, quiet bays, or the great blue lakes, and whose only chance to swim is in the deep holes of some small stream, a mill-pond or small lake. beginners are just as liable to meet with serious accidents in such places as in the large rivers or the salt sea. for it must be remembered it is not the width of the water, but its depth, that troubles a beginner. how to learn beyond the practice that makes for perfection, the only other thing necessary for swimming is _confidence_. every man, woman, and child-- even if never in the water before--could keep afloat if he, she or it had the required confidence, but as they have not this confidence, the question is: "how can it be acquired?" there is an old saying, "familiarity breeds contempt." while, like many other home-made proverbs, this is only partly true, there can be no doubt but that familiarity makes for confidence. the new recruit may be as strong and brave as the veteran soldier, but the lack of experience makes him nervous and unreliable under a fire which the older soldier faces without a visible tremor of eye or hand. it is difficult to get confidence if you begin by getting "awfully scared." every boy, and every girl too, should know how to swim, and both are more than eager to learn. now, the boy who can swim, and who is properly proud of the fact, will, if he stops to think, recall a time not very far distant when he lacked confidence and could not keep himself afloat for a second. and he may recall how frightened he was when some foolishly thoughtless friend or heartless bully tried to duck him, or to push him beyond his depth. be kind the first hard fight i ever had was with a big boy--it is the conflict i look back at with the most pleasure--who was holding a smaller boy under the water. we fought quite naked, and--well, i licked the bully, and never after that did he try to frighten small boys in that swimming hole. boys will be boys, but even then each should have in him much of the man he hopes one day to be. therefore i say, be a protector, a guide, philosopher and friend of the younger boys, and if you know more than they do of anything, and they want to learn, teach them in a cheery, manly fashion, if you have the time. avoid conflicts, but if you must have one, see to it that the bully will not be eager for another such meeting. good advice before saying more, let me give you another bit of good advice. never enter into water the depth of which you are not familiar with, unless you can swim, and in any event do not venture far into strange water unless you are accompanied by a companion as skillful as yourself. big boys, as a rule, are glad to help the smaller ones, and in this way they teach by assuring confidence and showing by example how the thing can be done. planks, floats, bladders and other artificial contrivances are advised by some, but after swimming for years in nearly all the waters of the world, i cannot endorse such doubtful assistance. as one cannot actually swim when supported in this way, it is far better to start in without them. there must be a beginning, and it should be made in the easiest and most sensible way. a good way with your back to the shore and the water almost up to the armpits, bend your knees till the water nearly reaches the chin. then gradually throw your bead back as far as it will go, until the base of the skull is immersed and the water covers your ears. now stretch your arms backwards behind your head, at their fullest extent, the palms uppermost and slightly hollowed. take a full breath, and swelling out the chest, give a little push off the bottom with both feet. keep your mouth shut, as, perhaps for an instant only, the water will ripple on your face as the head takes its position, and then you will find your legs, which must be stiffened and separated. in this position you will float for a second, moving the while towards the shore. then the water will dash over your nose and mouth, but, before it chokes, regain your feet and after a good long breath, try it again. franklin's way another capital dodge is that recommended by dr. franklin, in which the buoyant power of water is still more strikingly exemplified. procure an egg or lump of chalk of an easily handled shape, and, when the water is up to your chest, face the shore and let the egg drop in front of you. now take breath, shut your mouth, but not your eyes, which you can open and shut as easily in the water as out, duck under, and try to pick up the egg. you will find that while your legs rise from the bottom you will have to struggle with your arms to get down far enough to reach the "egg," owing to the great resistance offered by the water, and two or three attempts may be necessary to accomplish your object. you can come up at any moment by depressing the feet, and, as you face the shore, your struggles are working you into shallower water, so that the experiment is a safe one enough. you have now gained confidence, which is half the battle, and the next thing to be done is to try to move on the surface of that element which you have proved capable of sustaining you when motionless. it is certainly easier to float when the body is moving through the water than when it is stationary, on much the same principle which sustains the oyster shell that skips along the surface of the sea, until, the impetus given it by the thrower being exhausted, it sinks to the bottom. in like manner the pace acquired in swimming helps to sustain the body. if you can keep afloat while you count five, or long enough to inhale the breath once, the battle is won; and while you may not be qualified to enter for the long distance championship, you can modestly call yourself "a swimmer." books give us valuable information about how to do many things, but when it comes to swimming, all the book can do is to advise, and if the author gives us his own experience, as i am trying to do here, it must be of great help. confidence i have said that in learning to swim confidence is the great essential, but while still sticking unchangeably to that, i will add that perseverance is a good second. never get discouraged. stick to it. repeat over and over again either of the two exercises before given. each time you will find them easier. then suddenly, and before you know it, you will be keeping yourself afloat. what if it is only for a few seconds and you have not moved a foot? don't give up. "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again!" that's a motto you should heed, particularly in learning to swim. there are a great many strokes in swimming, but pay no attention to these at the start. strokes when i was a boy, and i presume it is so still, there was a stroke known as "dog fashion." as a matter of fact, it might as well be called the fashion of any other animal, for all quadrupeds swim exactly as they walk, that is by moving the feet alternately forward; and this is the very way one is inclined to try it at the start. if you can go dog fashion with some confidence, it will be well to learn the "breast stroke," which, though not the fastest, is perhaps the most general, as it is the most graceful, among non-professionals. but first a word as to the management of the legs. the legs while the arm movements can be greatly varied, there can be, in the nature of things, no such variation in the action of the legs. it is said, and truthfully, that the motion of the legs of a human swimmer are much like the motion of a frog's hind legs when swimming. that is, the boy draws his legs up simultaneously and kicks them out in the same way, but in so doing he is not imitating a frog, for if he works the limbs together there is no other possible way in which he can do it under water. the frog's breast stroke is another story. a man swims very much as does a frog, though he cannot do so well under water as the amphibian. the legs are kicked in the same way and there is the same motion of the arms of one as of the forelegs of the other. some swimming teachers believe that the main reliance is the legs, but this has not been my experience, and i have seen many swimmers in many waters. the legs steady the body, but it is the arms that make for speed as well as for steering, though on the back it is the legs that do the business. how to do it bring your hands together under your chin, with the palms down, fingers straight, close together, and pointing in the direction you are about to move. next shove the two hands straight out in front of you, keeping your thumbs touching. as your hands are pushed forward, kick backward with your legs, as previously described. when the knees are straight, the legs will be spread wide apart. bring them together, and, if you time this properly, your position will now be that of an arrow, the point being your extended hands. while the arms and legs alike do their share in the propulsion of the body, the legs perform by far the most important work, and the importance of a good "kick" cannot be too strongly urged. though the action of the soles of the feet upon the water helps the "drive," the momentum is also given by the "wedge" of water embraced and driven backwards by the action of the backs of the thighs and calves, as they almost come together at the completion of the leg stroke. hence, the wider the stretch the more powerful the "drive," and the beginner should try to rival as closely as possible that acrobatic performance known as "the splits" when trying to master the kick. the action of arms and legs is alternate; that is to say, when the legs are making their sweep, the arms are thrown forward to their fullest extent, thus helping to sustain the upper part of the trunk, and serving as a prow or cutwater; then, during the first part of the arm stroke, the legs, almost touching after finishing their work, remain stiff and extended, so as to offer as little resistance as possible. these positions are but momentary, but their rigid observance is necessary to ensure pace with the least expenditure of force. the arms the breast stroke will require some practice, and this can be helped by out-of-the-water exercise. close your fingers tightly, but not so as to be very conscious of the effort. in this position, bring them up till the chin rests on the two thumbs, which are side by side and parallel. next separate the hands, fingers still close together, shoot them edgewise as far in front as you can reach, then with the flat palms and closed fingers to the resisting water, draw them smartly back, like oars. for the second stroke, draw the arms edgewise to the first position and repeat as often as may be necessary. this exercise will strengthen the arm and shoulder muscles and greatly facilitate the movements when you come to use them in swimming. be careful always to bear in mind the following rules: keep the head thrown back so as to clear the mouth and chin. try to swim as low as possible. the lower and the nearer level the plane in which the body lies in the water, the less the waste of power and the greater the speed, so that all rising and falling must be avoided, and nothing seen below the chin. always keep the trunk steady and the spine hollowed, avoiding all squirming, wriggling and bending, while the motions must be made steadily, avoiding all hurry. exhale your breath when the hands are extended in front supporting the head, and inhale as they are brought back--an action which expands the chest and gives you almost instinctively the signal for taking breath, which should be inhaled through the nose as much as possible. chapter ix methods of swimming, floating, diving, and some good water games some girls, after they have learned the alphabet of music, and are able to play elementary scales on the piano, are eager to surprise themselves and annoy their listeners by starting in to play tunes, if indeed they are not ambitious to tackle grand opera. but the wise learner is satisfied to take one step at a time, and before going on he is sure that he can do the previous steps reasonably well. i am old enough to have boys of my own, still i hope i shall never be so old as to forget my own boyhood, nor to feel that much of the boy nature does not still keep with me; and this is why i advise my boy friends who read this to learn surely whatever they undertake; in this case it is swimming. after you can manage the breast stroke well, try the side stroke, which you will find more speedy, but it has its disadvantages in a long swim, by reason of the tension thrown on the muscles of the neck in keeping the head thrown so far back from its normal position, while the chest and shoulders, square to the front, offer considerable resistance to the water. history has not handed down the name of the founder of the side stroke, but he deserves canonization equally with the man who ate the first oyster. nature evidently intended man to swim on his side, as in this position the body moves more easily in the water, to which it offers less resistance, while the action of the arms is not so fatiguing, and the head is supported by the water at its proper angle to the trunk. there is no arbitrary rule as to which side you shall swim on, left or right being a pure matter of choice; but while i think the left is preferable, as it gives greater play to the right arm, the right is the usual side "put on" by the majority. the great thing is to be able to swim equally well on either, as this enables you to keep your face to the breakers in a rough sea on whichever tack you lay your course. when you have mastered this stroke you will seem to move forward continuously, and not in a succession of jerks, as with the breast stroke. the natives of the south sea islands, who are, to my thinking, the best swimmers in the world, use this stroke for a long, steady swim, and i have been surprised at the speed they make and the length of time with which they can keep it up without a sign of fatigue. racing the racing stroke is effective for speed, but it soon wears out all but the strong, expert swimmer. in acquiring it you must remember that pace is the great desideratum, and, consequently, rapidity of action is requisite. to gain this you must combine two movements in one, by striking with the propeller on whichever side you swim at the same time as the feet, the sustainer acting in the same manner as before. as the legs are brought up for the kick the propeller is lifted clear of the water, the arm being slightly bent in a graceful curve, and thrown forward in an arc to its fullest extent, the hand being held in the scoop-like position it maintains in the water. now kick, and bring the propeller simultaneously downwards and backwards, with a bold and vigorous sweep, until it reaches the thigh when the elbow is bent, drawing the hand upwards to be thrown forward again. as this stroke is being made, shoot out the sustainer quickly forwards, and while this arm is pulled in towards the body the legs and propeller are quickly brought into action for the next stroke. the learner will have to count one, two, only in effecting this movement, as, when the propeller and legs are striking, the sustainer is shot out, and _vice versa_. other ways swimming on the back is very easy, once the confidence is assured. in this method the hands are folded on the breast, or still better, kept under the water and close to the sides. this done, the feet are drawn up together, as in breast swimming, and then kicked out together. as the arms are the chief driving power, swimming on the back is at best but a slow, jerky method of proceeding, but if one has not learned to float, it is a good way to rest for a bit in a long swim. some swimmers, particularly those that are narrow chested or lank and lean, can never learn to float, though once you know how, it is easier and far more comfortable than "falling off a log." at first, when learning to float on your back, and by the way that is the only way to do it properly, you will find yourself sinking slowly, feet foremost, until you seem to be standing up, and must use some exercise to keep afloat; but you can learn. before lying flat on your back, inflate your lungs fully; as you do so you will be surprised to see how you seem to lift out of the water. now, before your lungs are exhausted, for you will sink as they empty, breathe deeply again and exhaust slowly as before, keeping your arms by your sides and your legs close together and extended. don't expect to float like a life boat at the first try, for you are not built along life boat lines; but if you stick at it, and make the experiment at least once every time you go in swimming, you will float well before the summer is over. going in if you know the water, the best way to enter it is by a quick plunge or a straight dive. to walk into the water and "duck" is rather an ignominious proceeding, only to be excused in the novice or the lady bather we see at our watering-places bobbing up and down at the end of a rope. the swimmer should not rest content until he is able to plunge in like a workman; but first, a word of caution! never attempt to dive unless you know that the water is deep enough for the purpose. many serious accidents have occurred from this mistake, notably when bathing at sea. an incautious plunge from the ship's side into the sail bath extemporized overboard to ward off any danger from sharks has resulted fatally to the rash swimmer, and at all times danger attends rash plunging. it is, nevertheless, astonishing into what shallow water an expert can fearlessly dive from a height, his arms and head emerging almost before the feet have disappeared beneath the surface. the diver needs to be very quick of hand and eye, and many accidents attest the fact of the game not being worth the candle. i have seen bathers extend the arms over their heads and fall forward, which generally entails a smart tingling of the chest and stomach, as the body is almost certain to drop flat on the surface. a very neat plunge, which requires practice and a little pluck, is made by standing erect on the brink edge or board and, instead of springing from the board, allowing the body, kept rigid, to fall forward until it attains the proper distance, then suddenly throw up the feet and plunge in like an arrow and without a splash. under water it requires some practice to swim under water, but you can soon do it. it is well to learn how to keep the eyes open under water. this is no more difficult nor painful than it is to keep them open in the air. this skill may be of great use in locating a body that has sunk for the last time. many such cases have been brought up and restored to consciousness, under proper treatment. water games are not as many as land games, but some of them afford good sport. one of these is "water bladder," which requires good swimmers, at least they must not be afraid of the water. to play this game place two places, for goals, at proper distances where the water is overhead, and mark each with crossed rods, the tops about a foot out of water. divide the party into two sides and take your positions as in an old-fashioned game of football. at the word "ready," the umpire, who is on the shore or at some convenient point, throws an inflated bladder between the opposite sides. the object of the players is to send the bladder over the enemy's goal, and the rules are very simple. it is foul to interfere with an opponent by putting your hands on him, it is foul to use more than one hand in handling the bladder, but you may swim in front of a man, dive under him, in fact "interfere" in every way you can. each goal counts one point, and five points make a game. tub races one might suppose that this would come under the head of boating, but one would be mistaken, for it properly belongs to swimming, as any one who has witnessed or taken part in such a race will tell you. each contestant supplies himself with an ordinary washtub. at the word "go!" he places it in the water, climbs in as best he can, and paddles with his hands for the taw line. this is great fun, and if one out of ten gets through he may count himself fortunate. he may not succeed a second time and will not if the others can help it. when i was a boy we had no end of sport in running and diving from a springboard. this, as you know, is a long, strong board--the longer the better--one end of which is firmly fixed in the bank and weighted with logs or stones; but no matter how weighted you must see to it that it does not get out of balance. the free end projects over the water at any desired angle, and care must be taken at the start to see that there are no stones or snags from which harm may come below the surface. it would be difficult to find anything more graceful than a lot of slender boys speeding up this spring-board and shooting out, feet first or head first, into the river, pond or swimming pool. when a boy can turn a somersault from the end of the board, and come down feet foremost in a clean-cut way, he may be said to be an expert. contrary to the belief of those who have not tried it, it is much easier to turn a back than a forward somersault, though neither can be achieved without some practice. in the back somersault great care should be taken that the diver leaps far, so as to be free and clear of the board when he turns; otherwise his head may strike with bad results. as i have said before, diving may be useful in saving life, or in finding objects that have been lost in the water. in such cases it will be necessary to keep the eyes open, otherwise you will be much like one groping in the dark. the tendency in diving is to keep the eyes closed. there is a feeling that if they are opened the water will hurt them, or that its touch will be painful; but this is a great mistake. if the water is clear, and clear water is the best to swim in, one can see under water nearly as well as on top and the eyes are in no way affected. pearl divers in the persian gulf sometimes stay under water for minutes at a time, and if they could not keep their eyes open while searching for the pearl shells, their descent would not profit much. the eyes of these people are never injured. in the bay of apia, in the samoan islands, i have seen native boys diving from a canoe under the bottom of a great ocean steamer. on one occasion a boy brought up from a depth of fifty feet a silver coin that had been tossed overboard to test his skill. closing advice never go into the water when at all warm. the best way to enter is to plunge or dive in. never go in more than twice a day, even if a fresh lot of boys come down to "dare" you. learn to laugh at dares. never stay in the water more than half an hour at a time, unless there is an absolute need for your so doing. you cannot learn too early that good health is easily lost and hard to regain. chapter x how sides are chosen in games when teams from different clubs, or schools, or places meet to try their skill in some game requiring skill and endurance, there is no occasion to "choose sides" for that has been done in advance. but when boys of the same school or association meet for a game, it is necessary that the leaders should be decided on in advance, as also the means by which the respective sides must be chosen. when two boys are contesting, one may pick up a pebble and ask, "which hand is it?" if the guess is right, the boy making it is "it." "drawing straws" is another method of choosing sides, and it is often used as a game in itself. from a handful of grass, one of the boys selects as many pieces as there are to be players. one of the blades is cut off so that it will be much shorter than the other pieces. "straw holder" arranges the straws so that the top ends protrude from his closed fist, either perfectly even or irregular in their height above the hand, according to his fancy. it may happen that the first boy to choose a straw will select the short one. this in a measure spoils the fun, and to guard against it the lads are often made to stand up in a line and each one in turn pulls a straw from the fist of "straw-holder." each one is expected and required to put it behind his back immediately and keep it there until all the boys in the line have straws behind their backs. then "straw-holder," holding up the straw left in his own hand, cries, "who is short straw?" at that each boy produces his straw and compares it with the others. another method is to place a button, pebble or other small object that can be easily concealed in one hand. then, with both fists closed, place one above the other and ask, "which is it, joe; high or low?" if the empty hand is chosen the boy goes free. so it goes on, the last holder of the stone being it, for the one making the unlucky guess has to hold the object. "odd or even" is often the method by which the one having the first choice in choosing shall be selected. the method is as follows: one boy selects at random a handful of pebbles, marbles or other small objects, and closing his hand, asks, as he holds it out: "odd or even?" if the other boy should say "odd," and on count the objects prove to be even in number, he has lost, and the other boy has first choice; or if it is a counting-out game, the one who guesses right goes free and the last is "it." a very old way is to toss up two coins, sometimes boys carry such things, though never for long. "heads or tails!" cries the tosser. if the other guesses he is free. sometimes a stone or a chip, moistened on one side is used, and the boy who tosses it up shouts, "wet or dry?" this is simply a variation of heads or tails, or odd or even. each section and each crowd of boys has its own way of choosing or counting out, and in this case the best known is best. chapter xi some interesting facts about counting-out games and the rhymes used by players when children indulge in counting-out games they are quite indifferent to the fact that since the infancy of history and in every land, civilized, barbarous and savage, other children have played the same game, in much the same way, and have used rhymes that are curiously alike. some learned men use this fact to prove the unity of all races. mr. beard, to whom i am indebted for much, has collected many of these rhymes. it will interest boys to compare some of them with those he already knows. sometimes it happens that there are more boys than words in the counting rhyme, or the counter foresees that he himself will be it. in both cases he adds to the verse something like this: one, two, three, out goes he! often he will add a whole verse and dialogue as follows: one, two, three, out goes he, into the middle of the deep blue sea! are you willing to be it? here is a rhyme that has in it a distinctly american twang: ena, mena, mina, mo, catch a niga by the toe, when he hollers, let him go, ena, mena, mina, mo. here is another familiar jingle: anna, mana, mona, mike, barcelona bona, strike; care, ware, frow, frack, hallico, ballico, we, wo, wack! huddy, goody, goo, out goes you! eatum, peatum, penny pie, babyloni, stickum stie, stand you out there by! this is irish: a lirripeg, a larrapeg, a bee, a nail, a stone, a stack, a bonny billie gelpie, a belia-bug, a warum rock, crib-i-stery, hick! the little turks and armenians use this count: allem, bellem, chirozi, chirmirozi, fotozi, fotoz, gider magara, magarada tilki bash, pilki beni korkootdi, aallede shooullede edirnede, divid bashi ben ilayen kehad bashi, french youngsters use this rhyme: un, deux, trois, tu ne l'est pas; quatre, cinq, six, va-t'en d'ici! one, two, three, thou art not "it"; four, five, six, go away from here! here is how dutch boys do it: een, twee, sen kopje thee; een, klotje er bij, af ben jij! along the rhine this is popular: ene, tene, mone, mei, paster, lone, bone, strei, ene, fune, herke, berke, wer? wie? wo? was? chapter xii do you know all about the game of tag? the poet pope says, "the proper study of mankind is man." if he did not mean this to include boys, then i don't quite agree with him, for i have found boys and girls, too, be it said, as a rule, far more interesting as objects of study than the average grown-up. i have always liked these stanzas from hood's fine poem, "the dream of eugene aram": "'twas in the prime of summer time, an ev'ning calm and cool, when four and twenty happy boys came bounding out of school; there were some that ran, and some that leapt, like troutlets in a pool. "like sportive deer, they cours'd about, and shouted as they ran, turning to mirth all things of earth, as only boyhood can." if the boys had not already decided on a game, it would be safe to wager that the first thing they started off with was the old and ever- popular game of tag. i have seen boys, and girls, too, playing tag among the indian tribes of arizona. the young and ever lightly-clad mexicans delight in it, and the chinese and japanese youngsters never grow weary of a game needing so little in the way of equipment, and which is so easily started, but not so easy to give up, when the spirit of the game has taken full possession of the players. although so simple, there is never monotony in tag. if you don't like one form you can try another, and there are certainly a lot to choose from. one can have brick, wood, iron, tree or any other kind of object tag, the principle being that so long as the pursued has his hand on the object decided on in advance, he cannot be touched. in what is known as "cross tag," the boy who starts the game tags another, who at once starts in pursuit. now, if another boy darts across "its" path this second boy becomes the object of pursuit, and so he continues until he has made a capture and is free to join the field. prisoner's base one of the oldest, and i think the most general and popular of tag games, is called now, as when i was a boy, "prisoner's base." in this game the two leaders choose sides. this done, two objects-- they may be walls, trees or posts that stand some distance opposite each other--are used as goals. before these goals, the two armies are drawn up in opposing lines. then the captains, or it may be others, lead off. one of these defies the other to meet him. after this the armies charge, but the purpose of each is to avoid being tagged by the other side, while it tries to tag or touch as many of the opponents as it can. every boy touched is regarded as a prisoner and must go to the base provided for the purpose, which is usually the goal of the other side, where he must remain till the game ends or he is released. the prisoner is guarded, but if he can escape and reach his own side, without being touched, he is free, or if one of his own side succeeds in touching him, he gains his liberty. when all of one side are prisoners the game is over, and the winners deserve their success, for they have had to fight hard for it. the wolf another variation of tag is called "the wolf" in some places, and in others, "when do you eat?" but no matter the name, it is good sport. this is how to do it. a good sized piece of paper--any paper that shows a pencil mark will do--is torn into as many bits as there are boys. each bit is marked with a number, showing some hour of the day. after every player has his marked paper, there must be one piece left. the last piece is marked with a number the same as that on one of those already given out. there are only twelve hour marks on the clock, but if there are more than twelve players, the extras can be given by half hours, like half- past one. now, under one of the hour or duplicate numbers, mark a cross like x. no one but the marker knows the numbers. each boy, as he draws, looks at his own number, but he must keep it a secret. the numbers must be drawn from a hat, without looking. the undrawn paper belongs to the marker, and he is the boy who holds the hat. the boy who has drawn the paper marked with the x is "it," and so is regarded as the wolf. he goes off some distance, while the huddled "sheep," as the other players are called, decide what time of day they shall each represent. when all is ready the wolf calls out in chilling, hungry voice: "i eat no meat but woolly sheep, my appetite is good; i thirst, i think, their blood to drink, if caught within my wood!" on hearing this, the sheep set up cries of fear and run to form a circle about the wolf. if the ring is not complete before he gets through the rhyme, he is free to seize any boy who is not holding the hands, on either side, of two other boys. if the ring is formed and no sheep captured, the sheep circle about the wolf, chanting this song: "wolf! wolf! wolf! with the brown ear, tell us what hour you dine on one of the sheep assembled here!" the wolf selects his own hour. if he answers "one o'clock," the sheep bearing that number darts out of the ring with the wolf after him. if this sheep circles the ring three times without being caught, he is safe and takes his old place. the same hour cannot be selected again until all the others have been called. when the wolf guesses the number corresponding to his own, he does not have to pursue, for his double becomes the wolf, and he is changed into a sheep. after the game has gone on so far that the number of each is pretty well known, the boys can change numbers without the knowledge of the wolf, and this adds greatly to the sport. bull in the ring another variation of tag is popularly known as "bull in the ring." the bull or "it" is a position to be sought after in this game. the bull can be selected in any one of the ways i have suggested, or in any other way that may be decided on. when all is ready, the boys form a ring by joining hands, with the bull penned in the center. this done, the bull seizes a pair of the grasped hands, and asks: "what is this lock made of?" one of the boys replies, "steel." "steel is strong. what is this lock made of?" asks the bull, as he grasps another pair of hands. "bronze," may be the answer. "and this?" "copper." the next reply, "i can break copper!" shouts the bull. he then makes a feeble effort to break through, or it may be that he is doing his best, but he knows he cannot get out in that way. suddenly he wheels and makes a dash for a part of the ring which he thinks is weakest. if he gets through he dashes away, with the others at his heels, and the first boy that tags him is "it" for the next game. chapter xiii "i spy" and leap frog, the ever-popular games like tag, "i spy" needs no apparatus and no great study. any boy with keen eyes and nimble legs can play the game better than a man four times his age. of course, "i spy" is not a game of solitaire. it needs at least two boys, but it will be more exciting if there are five or six times that number; the more the better. you know how to select who is to be "it." this done, and a goal or home selected, "it" remains at the goal and counts up to one hundred as fast as he can, and this is usually so fast as to eclipse the lightning calculator whom barnum charged an admission to see and hear. while "it" is counting, with his eyes closed and his head bent, his companions start off and conceal themselves in the neighborhood as best they can. when the count is up, and it is all too soon for the half hidden boys, "it" goes out to find them. any hider who can run and touch the goal before "it" shouts: "in free," and he is free. but if "it" spies a boy, then shouts the boy's name and reaches home first, that boy is caught. the game continues till all are free or caught. if "it" fails to catch any, then he must be "it" again for the next game. if he is successful, then the first boy caught is "it." the best time to play "i spy" is in the evening, for the dusk is the best time to hide, and in the dim light it is harder to recognize the boys. if "it" calls a boy by another's name, then he is free for that game. to deceive "it" the other boys often change hats or turn their coats--an act usually frowned down on, but quite permissible in this game. if the last hider gets in undetected and shouts "freeings!" all go out for another hide, and "it" stays in his old position. there are some varieties in this game, but they are not so different from the one given as to make them worth describing. leap frog is distinctly an athletic game, but it nevertheless requires that quality of brains called "judgment." the boy who does not know leap frog has something good to learn, and it is for him i am writing this. one boy turns his back to the player and, bending his head low, rests his hands on his knees. this is called "giving a back." the other boy places his hands on the first boy's back and leaps over him, by straddling his legs wide apart on each side like a frog. the second boy then assumes the stooping posture, and the third boy leaps over the first and second, and the fourth over all three, one at a time, of course. this goes on until there is no boy left who is not stooping. then the first boy's back straightens up and he goes leaping over his fellows and again gives a back, while the second follows, and so on until they are all tired and the game ceases. foot-an'-half the foot mentioned in this title is not the foot marked on a united states standard rule, but a boyish foot enclosed in a rusty shoe and owned by the leader in the game. the boy who is "it" is known as first back. he stands in the proper position at a taw. the leader tells the first back how and where to stand, then lays his hands on the stooping shoulders and straddles over when the leader strikes, he makes a mark to show the place, and the first back takes his place on this line. all the other boys must clear first back from the taw line, not always an easy task if the leader is a good jumper. when the leader's turn comes around again he marks a new taw line about a foot and a half--he uses his own foot for a measure--about eighteen inches or "foot-an'-half" in advance of the old one. on the second jump he marks where his heels strike, and the first back moves to that place, and the others make the leap. so the game goes on till a player fails to clear first back, a failure that usually results in tumbling both over. the player who fails is "it" for the next game, which begins at once. a variation of this game is known as "foot-an'-half," with a leader and a "foot-an'-half." in this game the first back, who must always select the leader, picks out, instead of the best, as in the former case, the very poorest jumper. he chooses for foot-an'-half a better player. his object in doing this is to have foot-an'-half, who is his ally, set tasks that are beyond the ability of the boy chosen as leader. when all is ready first back takes a position, with one foot on either side of the taw line and his side toward the players. foot-an'-half is the last to jump, and knowing what is expected of him, he leaps as far as he can. where his heels come down another line is drawn. to this line first back moves, placing a foot on either side. now comes the test of the leader. he can now take a foot and a half, using his own foot for a rule, and jump from that point, but if any other boy can make the leap from the old taw line, the leader becomes "it" and a new game is started. spanish fly i have been unable to learn where the boys got this name. it is started just like the preceding game. some player, usually one who has confidence in himself, shouts as he makes the leap, and just before his feet touch the ground: "spanish fly!" at once the fun begins in wild earnest. the boy who just shouts is regarded as leader. the second time he makes the leap he cries: "torchlight" and makes the jump with only one hand on first back's shoulders, while he waves his hat in the other. the player that fails to follow the leader's example becomes "it." on the third turn the leader shouts: "hats on deck," and he places his cap on first back's shoulders and goes over without knocking it off. the next player places his cap on top of the leader's and goes over. if there are many boys the hats pile up and the last jumper has a hard proposition to face, but if he succeeds he has a second try when he removes his own hat or cap without knocking the others off; and so it goes on till all the hats are removed. if this trick is successfully completed, and it rarely ever is, the leader goes over again, this time shouting: "hats full of water." as he leaps, he turns his hat so that it rests upside down on his head. if all the players succeed in doing this without losing their hats, the next cry is "hats in the water." as the leader goes over he shakes his hat off and all the others must follow his example. when the hats are all in the water the leader must jump over first back and alight on one foot without touching the hats. then, without touching his raised foot to the ground, he must hop to his own hat, and kneeling down, pick it up with his teeth, turn his back to taw and, with a head toss, throw the hat over first back. if any error should be made, the one making it becomes "it." each player must take his turn at every change made by the leader. there is good sport in this game, if it is played in the right spirit. sometimes boys with the rowdy element in them make it rough, boisterous and even dangerous. let me advise: never play any game with any boy who tries to boss and bully weaker boys. chapter xiv the game of cat, with a glance at some other games all should know the game of tip-cat, although very old in ireland, where it is said to have originated, and in all the british islands, where it is very popular, is comparatively new in this country. up to twenty years ago "cat," as it is generally called, was unknown to the boys of this country. now it is played from the atlantic to the pacific and from the lakes to the gulf. the cat is a piece of wood from four to six inches in length, and from one to two inches in diameter in the middle. from the middle to both ends it is whittled into blunt points. as it must stand a lot of pounding, it will be better if the wood is hard and tough. the bat or driver should be from one to two feet in length, an inch to an inch and a half in diameter, and of uniform thickness. when the cat is placed flat on the ground, or in a slight depression made with the heel, it will, when smartly struck, fly into the air. as soon as it rises it is struck again and sent in the direction desired. in the game of english cat there are from four to eight bases, depending on the number of players. the bases may be small stones, or even holes in the ground. the bases are marked on the circumference of a circle, at equal distances apart. after sides are chosen and it is decided which shall have first innings, the outs take to the field and the ins post themselves at the bases, one base for each. one of the outs throws the cat to the nearest man at base. if he makes a strike then all the boys on base change places, for safety's sake taking the nearest. if the cat has been sent far they keep on changing so long as they think it prudent. each base gained scores one point. if the cat _is_ caught the striker is out, or if the cat is thrown in front of an in who is changing bases, he is out. when the ins are made outs, the positions are reversed and the game goes on as before. when a striker fails to hit, he tosses the cat back to the fielder and tries again. country cat for this game a ring twenty or more feet in diameter must be made, in the center of which the striker stands. the fielder--any boy not a striker is now a fielder--tosses the cat, and if it is missed there is no count. if he hits and fails to send the cat outside the circle, he is out, or if the cat is caught, he is out. if the cat is sent beyond the circle, the striker calls out "twenty", "thirty" or "fifty", depending on the estimated distance the cat has gone. if his claim is allowed, the number called out is placed to the striker's credit. if it is disputed the bat is used for a measuring rod and the distance is measured from the striker's place to where the cat has fallen. if the striker claimed too much he resigns his stick to the one who has the next turn. if it is found that the striker did not claim too much, the number is placed to his credit and the game proceeds. the number of points that is to count for the game is decided on in advance, and when a player has served the full amount, he is declared victor, and another game is in order. american cat the american cat is smaller than the country or english cat, being over four or five inches long. if the game is played on the sidewalk, a small circle is drawn on the paving stones, where the striker stands; but if the game is played on the bare earth, a hole is made, where the striker stands. it is the duty of the batsman to defend the hole or ring with the stick he uses for a bat, and it is the object of the giver or pitcher to toss the cat in the circle or hole. if he is successful, the striker is out. if, on the other hand, it falls outside the circle, the striker places the cat inside the ring, strikes it on one end, which causes the little piece of wood to fly up in the air, and before it reaches the ground the striker endeavors to hit it again and send the cat as far as possible. if he misses he throws the cat back to the fielder, who again attempts to toss it into the circle, but if he succeeds in sending it a good distance he does not call his score, as described in country cat, but the pitcher offers him five points or ten, as the case may be. the striker, however, is not compelled to accept the offer, and may keep the pitcher bidding for some time, and if his last bid is refused the pitcher proceeds to measure the distance from the circle to the cat in jumps. if he can make the distance in fewer jumps than he has bid, the striker, or the striker's side, loses the number of points named in the last bid of the pitcher, and the striker is out. duck on a rock does not require an "it" to start with. as soon as it is decided to try the game, each player hurries to secure a good sized stone, or where this cannot be had, a club or a half brick will do. as each grasps his weapon he shouts, "my duck." the last boy to find a stone is "it" and must call out, "my drake." the drake places his stone on a rock, stump, or other prominence and stands guard. a taw line is drawn and from this the ducks are thrown at the drake, each trying to knock him off his perch. when a player has failed, he must recover his own duck, and in doing so he runs the risk of being tagged by the boy guarding the drake. the drake guardian cannot touch the other until he has put his hand on his duck. the best way is for the ducks to make a rush for their weapons at once when most of them are sure to escape, whereas one has but little chance. whenever a boy is tagged he must assume the place of guardian. if the drake is knocked off, all the boys make a rush for their ducks. the drake cannot tag till he has placed the stone in position. stone throw this game may be played with from six to twenty players. when the game is played outdoors, a large stone is placed on a boulder, and a player stands to guard it. a line is drawn twenty or thirty feet from the boulder. here each of the other players stands in turn and throws a stone at the stone on the boulder, which he tries to knock off the rock. if he does not succeed he goes and stands by the place where some stone has fallen, and waits until some one does succeed. if he prefers, he may pick up his stone and try to run back to the goal before the guard of the stone can tag him. if he reaches it in safety he has a chance to throw again. when some one succeeds in knocking off the stone all who have thrown may pick up stones and run back to the goal line, while the guard replaces the stone on the rock and tries to tag any one who has his stone in his hand, and who has not crossed the goal line. whoever is tagged becomes guard. chapter xv and now for ball--some of the many good games that can be played with a ball, bat, or racket ball in some form is played all the world over. before columbus came across, the indians of the st. lawrence valley played a ball game with rackets, which the french adopted and named lacrosse. no game requires more dexterity of foot, hand, and eye. certain games seem to be favored in certain lands; cricket in england, hand ball in ireland, and baseball in the united states. but, then, as we adopt and absorb peoples of all nationalities so we take all the good things they have to offer in the way of games and, modifying them to suit our own tastes, we make them american. in addition to these imported games, we have, with characteristic originality, invented a lot of games of our own, and in these the boy takes endless delight, without bothering about their origin. on cricket, baseball, hand ball and other great games, many books have been written telling how to play "scientifically". now, i am not trying to teach scientific games. my purpose is to add something to the knowledge of games which my readers already have, and so to increase their interests in those healthful sports that add to the joys of boy life. town ball this game, before being imported from england, long, long ago, was called "rounders." in this game the bat and ball are both different from those used in baseball. there are corners instead of bases, and there is a "giver" instead of a pitcher. the fielders may be of any number, but they are not known by distinctive names. the greatest freedom is permitted in the choice of ball. it may be of hollow rubber, or it may be of the good, old-fashioned, home-made sort. did you ever make a ball, but of course you have, by unravelling a heelless worsted stocking and then winding the thread about a core of cork or rubber till the whole is quite round, the end being sewed to keep it from unravelling. this ball is finished by a cover of thin leather, cut in the form of a three-leaved clover and neatly sewed on with a waxed thread. the bat is like that used in baseball but lighter and shorter. the corners are usually three in number, with a home- base, making four, but this varies according to the whim of the players or the locality where the game is played. ordinarily with three corners the distances are about the same as between the bases in baseball. in place of home-base there is a rectangle marked on the ground where the striker and catcher stand. the giver stands in the same position that the pitcher occupies in a game of baseball; but in place of pitching or making the underhand throw, he throws overhand and "gives" the ball to the catcher over the right shoulder of the batter. the batter stands at the front line of the home-base and holds his bat above his shoulder and strikes from that position, with both hands grasping the handle of the bat, if he is using a flat bat. but if he is using a "delill" he holds it with one hand and allows the swiftly thrown ball to strike his club and glance off at an angle to a part of the grounds where no fielders are on the outlook for it. every time the ball touches the bat it is considered a fair hit, and the batter must run for his first corner and reach it, if possible, before some fielder, the catcher, or giver secures the ball and "burns" or "stings" him, as they call it when they hit a player with the ball. no one stands on guard at the bases to catch the batter out, and the ball, in place of being thrown to the base, is thrown at the man running the corners. when one batter makes a hit or is put out the next batter takes his place as in baseball. the catcher stands behind the bat and without gloves, and with no protection for his face or body he catches the "hot" balls the giver sends to him. the balls are not heavy enough to be dangerous. the fielders scatter themselves over the field, according to the directions of the captain, and try to catch or stop all balls from the bat, or those that are thrown at and miss the runners between corners. when a man is out he is out until the next inning, and the game proceeds without him. if a striker sends a ball in the air and it is caught before it touches the ground by the giver, the catcher, or any one of the fielders, the batter is out. if the ball touches his bat it is counted a hit, and if it is caught by any one of the opposite side he is out. if any one of the fielders, the catcher, or giver makes a successive throw at a man running the corners and strikes him with the ball when he is not touching his corner, he is out. if the batter misses a ball that he strikes at, and the catcher catches the ball before it strikes the ground, the batter is out. when a man is put out, he is out for that inning, and cannot strike again until the next inning for his side. when all are out but one, that one has a very difficult task to make a score, unless he can make a home-run strike. there are no other batters to help him by sending a "skyscraper" over the fielders' heads; but he must run his corners while the giver and catcher, standing in their regular position, pass the ball between them. this always produces a great deal of excitement and sport, as all the batter's side coach him, and if he succeeds in stealing a corner or successfully dodges the ball thrown at him, he is greeted by wild cheers from his side. should he at last succeed in reaching home-base untouched, he has the privilege of "putting in" the best batter on his side, and there are then two men in and a better chance to score. one or two old cat is a modification of town-ball, and was played by our great grandfathers while in camp during the revolution. it is a good game for three or four boys, not less than three, as there must be a pitcher, a catcher, and a batter. any goal can be decided on in advance, but usually the striker, after making a hit, runs and touches the pitcher's base. if he gets back without being it, or stung by the thrown ball, he can keep on, each run counting one. if the ball is struck at and caught, the striker is out, and the catcher goes to the bat. this is one old cat. with two strikers, there are sides and it is called two old cat. hand ball is another game that has grown into popularity in the united states. it is said to have originated in ireland, where regular courts are built for it, but it can be played in any place where there is a high brick wall with a smooth open space in front. this game can be played by two, or sides may be chosen with any number of players on each. a medium ball, with good bounding qualities is the best for this game. the player throws the ball on the ground and in the bound he strikes it with the palm of his hand, sending it against the wall, above the three foot line. the force must be enough to cause the ball to drop outside the taw line. the next player uses his hand as a bat, and sends the ball back against the wall in the same manner. he must hit the ball on the first bound or before it has touched the earth. the next player is ready to take his turn and strikes the ball on the rebound, and so the game proceeds, until some one misses, or sends the ball below the three foot mark or outside the boundaries. if it is the first striker who misses or sends the ball out of the boundaries on the ground or side of the wall, then he loses his inning, and the boy on the other side drops the ball and strikes it as already described. if it is a player on "outs" that makes a miss, then the "inners" count one for each miss or foul. a foul is when the ball goes below the three foot line on the wall or rebounds outside the boundaries. the outs cannot count when the ins miss, but they take the place of the ins and the ins are out. after the first hand up or play it is unnecessary that the ball should rebound beyond the taw line. fifteen points make a game. in england the boys have the same game under the name of fives. anthony over or _house over_. this game was very popular out west when i was a boy. we called the game anthony over; in the east i find it is called house over. but no matter the name, it affords a lot of exciting sport. it is best played in the country for there can be found a house or a barn standing alone and with lots of space on either side for running. after sides are chosen and all are ready, divide into two groups, each out of sight on opposite sides of the building. the ball may be that used in town ball. the boy who has it throws it over the building at the same time shouting as a warning to the boys on the other side: "anthony over," or "house over." one of those on the opposite side must try to catch the ball before it reaches the ground and if he succeeds, he shouts, "over! over! over!" at the same time rushing around one end of the building. those on the side from which the ball was thrown at once make a rush for the opposite side, and all whom he reaches by touching or by striking with the ball are his captives and are counted "out". if there is no catch, there is no count and the sides remain as they were, each throwing the ball alternately, and shouting as before to give warning. in some places the boy hit, instead of being a captive, joins the opposite ranks. it is always very hard, sometimes impossible, to capture the last boy, but it can be done through strategy. corner ball in this game the corners depend on the number of players. with six boys there are three corners, which make the limits of a triangle. with eight boys there are four corners, the limits forming a square. you should have more than four players because with this number you would have only two bases and the boundaries would be a straight line. the ins take the bases and the outs group themselves inside the triangle, square or whatever figure may be formed by the corners. the ins pass the ball around the corners, throwing and catching until they see a good chance to hit one of the outs grouped inside the boundaries. the ball is then thrown at the outs, and if it hits one he is out of the game; and if it misses, the thrower is out of the game. but, if one of those in the center catch the ball, there is a laugh and the ball is thrown back to a corner man with no scorce either way. when all of the one side are put out of the game the opposite side has won, and all are entitled to a throw with the ball at the boy on the losing side who was first put out. the victim stands with head down and back arched facing the wall, while the victors line themselves at thirty feet distant and take turns "burning" the captive--that is, hitting him with the ball--if they can. it must be remembered that the dangerous baseball is never used in these games, and the other ball does no injury to the lad struck. chapter xvi baseball, the great american game. a few pointers that may help you the best baseball field is level and smooth. it is best, if it can be had, to start with the right kind of a layout. the catcher, or back stop, as he is called by professionals, is usually in front of the observation stand, or a board wall or other obstruction. this is usually ninety feet from the home plate. if you fasten a cord one hundred and twenty-seven feet four inches long straight out in the field, the place for second base is found. this done, take a rope or line one hundred and eighty feet long, fasten one end to the home plate and the other to second base; then draw the middle of the line at first to the right and then to the left, till it is tight. this will mark the places of first and third base. the place of the pitcher's box is fixed by measuring a line of fifty feet from home to second base. the pitcher's box should be five feet six inches long by four feet wide. for batsman there are two positions, one for the left and the other for the right handed. the batsman's stand is two rectangular spaces, each six feet long and four feet wide. the nearest line should be six inches from the home plate, and should extend three feet in front and three feet behind the center of the home plate. having thus laid out the field, we proceed to further mark the various points. in doing this, if the field is to be a permanent one, it is best to make use of the most improved apparatus; but if the field is only a temporary one, there are various devices which save expense, and which answer the purpose quite satisfactorily. the home plate is, by the rules, a whitened piece of rubber a foot square, sunk flush with the ground, its outer edges being within the lines to first and third bases. an excellent substitute for rubber is a piece of board painted white, or a bit of marble such as can be readily obtained at any marble yard. the first, second and third bases are canvas bags, inches square, stuffed with any soft material, and so fastened as to have their centers at the corners of the diamond which we have already marked out. they will thus extend several inches outside the diamond. the customary method of fastening the bag is by means of a leather strap passing through loops upon the bag and directly around the center. this strap is slipped through an iron staple in the top of a post driven firmly into the ground at the corner of the diamond, and the strap is then buckled on the under side of the bag. the wooden post and the iron staples can easily be had. it is better to have them to keep the base fixed. a stone is apt to work injury. the bags can be homemade, from old carpets, or old mattresses, or even from shavings or hay, stuffed into little calico or canvas pillows. a piece of stout clothes line will answer for more expensive straps. the pitcher's box must be permanently marked. this is done by sinking into the ground an iron plate, stone or a wooden post, four or six inches square. if there is thick grass in the infield it must be cut from the pitcher's box to the back-stop, nine feet in width, or better still remove the sod and fill in the space with hard-packed earth. the players will soon make the batting-crease and base lines marked on the field. to make a fair division of labor in laying out a field, let three boys agree to furnish the iron staples, and posts for the bases and pitcher's position, seven in all. the four for the pitcher's box may be anywhere from three to six inches square at the top, and two feet long; those for the bases being three inches in diameter; and all of these sharpened to drive in like stakes. the staples, three in number, should be two inches wide. let three others agree to furnish the bases; one boy to provide the six pieces of stuff--about sixteen inches square, another boy to furnish three two inch straps with buckles, or else sufficient rope. the straps must not be less than a yard long. the third boy can see that the bags are looped for the straps, stuffed and properly sewn. three other boys can agree to furnish the home plate, and to bring to the ground implements for marking and laying out, viz.: a tape line two hundred feet long, a supply of cord, a sharp spade, a sledge hammer to drive stakes, a small hammer to drive in staples, some lime to mark out the lines, and a pail to wet it in. a tennis marker will save much work. the best ball to purchase is the regular "league" ball. these balls are the most uniform in manufacture and quality, and give the best satisfaction in the long run. it is worth while to purchase more than one, because it often happens that wet grass ruins the cover of the ball. when a base ball has been used in wet weather it should be put aside, and the next time the nine wish to practice on a wet day this ball, which will be very hard, should be used. as soon as it is wet it softens again, and it is just as useful as a new one would be after wetting. constant wetting rots the covers, but a harness-maker will re-cover the balls, and they can be used for practice. in bats there is more variety. a special bat is said to be made of wagon-tongue, but the more commonly favored is of ash, second growth, thoroughly seasoned. these can be bought for from twenty-five cents to one dollar each, according to quality. lighter bats are made of willow; and the cheapest of basswood. these do not last so well as ash, however. the rules specify that the bat shall not be over two and a half inches in diameter, nor more than forty-two inches in length. in selecting a bat, individual taste is the best guide as to matters of weight and balance, but the grain should be examined carefully. if a bat is varnished, the handle should be scraped, so that it will not turn easily in the hands. the first baseman and catcher should each wear gloves to protect the hands from the pounding which playing these positions involves. you can make a pair of baseball gloves out of a stout pair of buckskins. the fingers and thumbs should be cut off at the first joint for the baseman, and if any extra padding is needed, pieces of felt can be sewn on. the catcher's gloves can be made in a similar way, except that the left-hand glove is kept whole and the ends of the fingers reinforced by heavy leather tips. a shoemaker can put on these tips which should be about an inch and a half long. both gloves should have padding in the palm and over the ball of the thumb. this padding can be made of as many layers of felt as are desired, sewn in when the glove is turned wrong side out. the pads should be so cut that they run up into the finger a little way, and thus form a protection for the base of the fingers. every man who catches should wear a mask. a body protector will also save many a bruise. individual uniforms should be considered where clubs are formed, and let me say it is better to start with a club. uniforms for boys need not be expensive; shirts of one color will do with the addition of a home cap. pads on the knees and along the thighs, as well as rough mitts are of use in sliding. any number of players may belong to a club, but only nine can play on a side. each side must have a captain, who must be a good leader as well as a good player. the umpire is chosen by both sides to decide questions in dispute. there is no appeal from his decision, even where both sides think him in error. it would take a whole book properly to go into the details of baseball, but no instructions can take the place of practice, and it will be better if this can be done under the direction of an expert. rules here are a few baseball rules that it will be well to remember: . the infield must be thirty yards square. . the bases must be four in number. . the ball must weigh not less than five nor more than five and a quarter ounces. it must be not less than nine nor more than nine and a quarter inches in circumference. . the bat must be wholly of wood, except that the handle may be wound with cord or wire. the length must not exceed forty-two inches nor the diameter, at the thickest, more than two and a half inches. . the players on each side shall be nine. the captain assigns them their places. . the pitcher must keep both feet on the ground, except when throwing the ball. . players' benches, out of the way, must be furnished by the home club. . each game must consist of nine innings. if the side first at bat scores less in nine innings than the other did in eight, the game is ended. . if after nine innings the score is a tie, the game shall continue unless called off by the umpire. . the game shall be forfeited if a player comes too late, or does not take the bat after five minutes when "game" is called. . every club shall be required to have one or more substitutes, in the event of an accident to a regular player. . men on the bases cannot have substitutes run for them. . the choice of innings shall be given to the captain of the home club. . a dead ball is one that strikes the bat without being struck at. . a score shall be counted every time a base run is made. . a ball that goes over the fence, outside the two hundred and thirty feet line, wins two bases. . a foul strike is when the batsman hits, when he is not in position. . the runner must touch each base in its order. . no umpire shall be changed during the game. . a coach is restricted to instructing the base runners only. autumn chapter xvii some details about football the mere act of kicking a football is a good exercise in itself, but very few who do so, particularly among boys, know anything about the game. in england and her colonies there are innumerable football clubs in every town and village, but in this country the game is largely confined to colleges, and even in these not all the students play; indeed, so many are the physical requirements and so strenuous is the work that only those with extraordinary strength and activity are selected in the making up of teams. yet, as it is, when properly played, one of our best out-door games, i think it well that my boy readers should know something about it. at one time there were fifteen players on a side; now eleven is the legal number. the ground has much the same appearance of a gridiron, and the name "gridiron" is often applied to it, just as "diamond" is applied to the space marked off for that game. along the field the ball is urged, in ways presently to be explained, and which only the strong and active would care to carry out if pleasure in the strenuous sport were not its own great reward. the ball used in this game is shaped somewhat like a lemon, or two cones joined at their bases. from the middle the angle of slope must be the same to the two ends. the cover is of leather, and enclosed in this is an inflated bladder or an inflated rubber ball of the same shape. the work of inflating is done through a nozzle or opening as in a rubber tire and it is closed in much the same way. this is done before the cover is put on. the football field is not hard to mark out; as in baseball, the flatter and smoother the better. the field is rectangular, one hundred and sixty feet wide by three hundred and thirty feet long. for convenience in telling the position of the ball, lines, indicated by whitewash as in tennis, are drawn across the field, fifteen feet apart. in laying out, measure eighty feet from one corner along the line and mark the point. on the opposite end mark in the same way. the end lines being one hundred and sixty feet long, the points indicated will mark the center of the lines. next measure nine feet three inches to the right, and the same to the left of the center points on the end lines, and place four goal posts, two at each end of the field. this will leave the proper space, eighteen feet, six inches between the posts. on these posts, and ten feet from the ground, the cross bars should be placed. the uprights should extend above the cross bar just ten feet. the team the teams in football consist of eleven men each, but where boys are out for practice, they need not be bound by the regular rules. the eleven men are classified into "rushes" and "backs." there is a quarter back, two half backs and a full back. the first seven are line men, further known as center, right guard, right tackle, right end, left guard, left tackle and left end. each player is given a number to designate him and this number is known to the captain only. the kicks have special names. drop-kick, when the ball is dropped from the hand and kicked the instant it touches the ground; the place-kick, made by kicking the ball after it has been placed on the ground; the punt, made by kicking the ball as it falls from the hands and before it reaches the ground; the kick-off is a place-kick made from the center of the field. the kick- off cannot score a goal. the kick-out, when one of the players on the side which has touched the ball down in its own goal makes a punt, drop-kick or place-kick. a free-kick, any kick where the rules forbid the opponents from advancing beyond a certain point. in-touch is out of bounds. a touch-down is when the ball is kicked or carried across the goal line and held there. a touch-back is when the player touches the ball to the ground behind his own goal, the ball having been propelled over the line by an opponent. a safety touch-down is when either by a kick, pass, or a snap-back, the player guarding his goal receives the ball from one of his own side and touches it down behind his goal line, or when he carries the ball across his own goal line and touches it down, or when he puts the ball in his own touch-in-goal, or if the ball, being kicked by one of his own side, bounds back from an enemy across the goal line and the player guarding the goal then touches it down. some rules when a kicked ball is caught on the fly by one of the opposite side, the catcher marks with his heel on the ground the spot where the catch was made. the catcher then shouts, "fair catch," or he may hold up one hand. beyond the heel mark the opponents of the catcher cannot advance till the ball is again put in play. the catcher is entitled to the privilege of falling back towards his own goal, as far as he chooses; from the point selected he may take a place-kick, a drop-kick, or a punt. instead of this, he may choose to give the ball to one of his own side for a "scrimmage." the scrimmage is governed by special rules. if the catcher chooses to kick, he must drive the ball at least ten yards, unless stopped by one of the other side. a player is said to be "on side" when he is not between the ball and the opponent's goal, or is where the ball touches an opponent. when a ball goes out of bounds, it is called going "into touch." in such case, a player is sent to bring it back to the place where it crossed the line. a member of the side that sent the ball out of bounds puts it again into play. when a player carriers the ball across one of the end lines he obtains what is called a "touch-down." any player on this side may now take out the ball; he makes a mark as he walks by twisting his heel. when he has reached a point that suits, he places the ball for one of his own side to kick. the other side meanwhile retires to its own goal line. when the ball has been carried to within kicking distance of the goal, the question of the kind of kick needed is often a question for deliberation. at any time a player may carry the ball across his own goal line, and touch it down there for safety. this counts two points for the other side, or instead the side may take the ball out twenty-five yards for a kick-out. the moment the ball touches the ground it is "in play," and the enemy lines up on their goal line will block the kick, if possible. the formation is to a great extent governed by the plays to be made, but as a general rule the seven rushers stand in line of battle facing their opponents. just behind the rushers stands the quarter-back, and a few yards in the rear of him the two half-backs are placed; while a dozen yards further back, alone in his glory, the full-back guards his precious goal. if a strong wind is blowing, the winner of the toss-up takes the side favored by the wind, and the other team have the kick-off. if there is no wind to speak of, and no great advantage in either goal, the winner of the toss-up chooses the kick-off, and the other side have the choice of goals. the two teams now line up in their respective positions, and the ball is placed upon the exact center of the field by the side having the kick-off. the full-back as a rule the full-back is a good kicker and is selected to open the game. to the right of the ball on the line stands right-guard, alongside of him is right-tackle, next to him is right-end, then comes right half- back and quarter-back, while stretched out on the line to the left of the ball are the center, left-guard, left-tackle, left-end and left half-back. all these sturdy men are ready to rush upon their opponents the moment full-back's toe touches the ball. as the rules require the opposite side to stand at least ten yards back of the middle line, they form themselves in a sort of rough triangle so as to be able to guard the field and stop the ball with the least possible waste of time. at the required ten yards back of the center line, center of the opposing side is posted, back of center stand the two guards, back of them the two tackles with the quarter- back between them, behind them the two half-backs are stationed with full-back in front of his goal. as there are no rules for placing the men on the field, this formation is altered to suit the captains. the player selected to kick the ball must send it at least ten yards into the opponent's camp, and it is usually sent as much farther as the judgment of the kicker directs. when the ball comes sailing over into their ranks the enemy catch it and either return it by a kick or one of them runs with the ball. when the player made the kick-off he calculated that the rushers on his side could reach the ball in time to prevent the enemy making much headway with it, and the enemy calculated to interfere in all lawful ways with the kick-off's rushers. if the enemy who holds the ball starts for a run, the men on the other side tackle him. as soon as the player and ball are brought to a standstill the runner cries "down." then some one on the runner's side places the ball on the ground at the spot where it stopped, and it is put in play by the snap-back kicking it or snapping it back, usually with his hand, but sometimes with his foot, to the quarter-back of his own side, who has taken a position just behind snap-back. up to this time the men of each team have kept their positions upon their own side, but as soon as the ball is put in motion both sides may press forward and the scrimmage begins. when a snap-back is to be made they arrange themselves in this way: center holds the ball, behind him stands quarterback; more to the rear is full-back, with left half-back and right half-back a little to the front. flanking these and slightly in advance are the two ends. each of these is ready to receive the ball, at a signal from quarter- back. on either side of center are two guards, and two tackles, and the rival fives face each other. when the ball is put in play there is a grand rush. the runner with the ball is surrounded by friends who try to force their way through the opposing line. it is impossible in a general article to go into all the details of this popular game. many authors have tried to make the rules and the methods plain, but they have not succeeded very well. the best way to learn is from an old player or to watch old players at the game. the points of the game are counted as follows: goal by touch-down touch-down without goal safety by opponent chapter xviii a hint at some well-known games, including hop-scotch during a good deal of world-travelling i cannot recall ever having seen a game of mumbly peg played outside of the united states and canada. i have placed it among the autumn games, but we all know that, except in winter when the conditions are unfavorable, it can be played at any time, where two boys and a jackknife can be assembled, with reasonably soft, smooth ground on which to play. this game has so many variations locally and even among individual players that i shall not attempt a detailed description of the many ways in which the blade of the knife is made to enter the ground. the feats, known to every boy, can be performed alone, and, when a boy, i know i did practice a lot by myself in order to avoid the consequences of defeat. the rule is for the first boy to take the knife and go through as many feats as he can, but at the first failure the second boy takes the knife and does the same. and when all but one have succeeded, the penalty for failure is as follows: a wooden peg two inches long is driven into the ground. a little must be left above the earth. the defeated boy has then to seize this with his teeth and draw it out. if he has difficulty in getting hold, the other boys are the more delighted and set up the cry, "root! root!" but this is not fair, and he should not be discouraged. jack stones is a much older and a more widespread game than mumbly peg. the knuckle bones of sheep and pigs, marbles, pebbles or any other small, heavy objects that can be thrown and grasped, are used. the best are made of iron and are sold cheaply. five stones or jacks are necessary for the game, a description of which i shall not attempt, for the feats vary, and the ingenious boy can add to them. there may be a penalty decided on in the game of jack stones, but it is not usual, and so may be placed among those contests of skill in which success is its own reward. hop scotch is a far more strenuous game than the two just mentioned, nor, when properly played, is it behind them in the skill required. of course, the best place for all games is out in the open country, but the children in towns and cities do not cease from the play for want of space. except when covered with snow and ice, hop scotch courts can be seen chalked out on the sidewalks of all our city blocks. a bit of brick, a flat stone, a shell, the lid of a blacking box, indeed any small object that can be moved by the foot can be used as what is known as the "potsherd." after choosing who shall be first, second, etc., the player stands at taw and tosses the potsherd into division number one. hopping on one foot over the line into number one, and still keeping one foot raised, he makes a hop-kick with the other and sends the potsherd out of the number to that in the right or left section, as may be decided on in advance. there are many local variations of the rules, just as there are variations of the plan of the ground, and perhaps the one you know best is the best. hop scotch may seem simple to those who have never tried it. in truth it is a game which, even in its simplest form, requires much skill and activity. but it is excellent for the muscles of the leg and it cultivates patience and persistency. rules when a player touches his hand or foot to the ground it is called "grounds," and he is out. when a player pitches the potsherd into the wrong division or on a line, he is out. when a player kicks into the wrong division or on a line, he is out. in the next turn he must play from taw. when the turns of the others come they must begin at the division in which they failed. chapter xix how to camp out--things every camper should know camping out is not in itself a game, but it would be hard to imagine a more delightful way for the boy or the man who has still something of the boy in him to spend a vacation. of course, boys in the country have more opportunities to learn about camping than boys living in the city. one thing is that they are more familiar with tools, but city boys are perhaps more eager for the life, as it is so primitive and in such striking contrast to their usual way of living. before going into camp there are many things for the camper to learn if he does not know how, and one of these things is how to make a fire. if one has matches, kindling and wood there is no trick in making a camp fire, but there is a good trick in making a fire where there are no matches and the wood is green or wet. of course, you know that men built fires in houses and camps many, many hundreds of years ago, but you may not know that up to one hundred years ago matches, which are now so cheap and so abundant, were practically unknown. how, then, did they start fires? our own indians get fire--i have seen them do it--by rotating a hard upright stick in a cup-shaped hollow of lighter wood, in which dry charcoal or the fungus-like shavings of punk were placed. cotton or any other substance that ignites easily would answer as well. this is getting fire by friction. every hunter in the west and among the indians and mexicans of two continents now carries a flint and steel, and a dry substance to catch and retain the spark. this substance with a full outfit can now be had in most stores that supply sporting goods, and every camper should have a supply. the back of a jackknife, a bit of flint-like rock, such as quartz, and some very dry cotton lint--kept for protection in a close box--will do just as well as the manufactured outfit, and it can nearly always be had. if you carry half-charred cotton rags in a box or bottle you will find them of use in making fire. shelter camps are either temporary, that is changed from day to day, or they are permanent and may be visited year after year, or they may be used for a few weeks at a time. temporary camps are the ones we are considering, and these can be elaborate or very, very simple. i prefer the latter, and i am sure the boys will agree with me. during the autumn and when the weather is dry and the nights not too cool, the best way to camp is in the open, sleeping on beds of boughs, about a roaring fire, and with one blanket under and another over. small dog tents, such as our soldiers carried in the civil war, are cheap and very convenient. each man carried a section, and two made a tent, into which two men crawled when it rained, but in dry weather they preferred to sleep in the open, even when it was freezing. shelters of boughs, arranged a fashion from a ridge pole make good temporary shelters and are first rate as wind brakes at night. if you have to sleep on the ground, you should have a poncho, that is a blanket faced with rubber on one side, to keep the body from too close a contact with the wet earth. the ideal camping place is near a good spring or beside a stream of pure water, in a natural grove with plenty of dry dead wood in the vicinity. the dry wood should be protected from rain if you are camping in the same place for some time. the camp fire should be made of two thick green sticks or legs to be used as andirons. these should be placed about eighteen inches apart, so as to keep the lighter, dryer fuel off the ground. they will also serve to support the cooking pots. where stones can be had, they serve well for andirons. a shack built of crossed logs requires some time to build and some skill to make, but it is not beyond the reach of any boy who has seen --and who has not--an old-fashioned log shanty. be sure to select a dry place for your camp, and if you are to stay for any time take care to keep it scrupulously clean, burning every scrap that might attract flies or the smaller wild animals, or might make a stench. mr. beard, an authority in such matters, writes: "never pitch your tent in a hollow or depression, or you may find yourself in the middle of a pond. soldiers always dig a ditch around their tents. the floor, which is often your bed, can be covered with straw, if straw is obtainable; if not, fir boughs; these lie flatter than spruce. it is best to lay the foundation of good-sized branches, cover them with smaller ones, and over all place a deep layer of fir twigs broken off the length of your hand and laid shingle-fashion, commencing at the foot of your bed, or the doorway of your shack or tent, each succeeding row of boughs covering the thick ends of the previous row. a properly made bough bed is as comfortable as a mattress, but one in which the ends of the sticks prod your ribs all night is not a couch that tends to make a comfortable night's rest. "candles, lamps and lanterns add to the luggage of a camper and may be dispensed with, yet it often happens that you will need a light at night. if you do, remember that almost any sort of fat or grease will burn with a wick." boys from our cities have even a greater desire to get back to the heart of mother nature than have country boys, perhaps because they find a greater novelty in the forests, the streams and the untrammelled conditions of our primitive ancestors. but even the boy brought up on the farm heartily enjoys the freedom of the camp, and he takes naturally to all its requirements. if lost but all boys, even trained foresters, are apt to get lost in strange woods; but no matter the person, it is well to know what to do under such circumstances. as a rule the denser growth of moss on trees is on the north side. this knowledge may help find the direction; but it is better to carry a small pocket compass. when the sky is clear, the sun and the stars help to guide the course, and if followed one is saved from travelling in a circle, as the lost are pretty sure to do in a dense forest. if twigs are broken from bushes they will serve to show the course to those out searching. a good plan is to follow down the course of a stream, which always flows into a larger body of water and will lead to some abode. if a hill is accessible, the lay of the land may be had from its summit. in any event, should you be lost, do not get rattled. you will be missed in camp and a search will be made by your friends. if you have to stay in the woods all night, make the best of it. others have made the best of it by sleeping near the foot of a tree or beside a log. it will be more cheery if you can make a fire without danger to the woods. the outfit now the camping outfit, including enough provisions for the proposed stay, must be carried, and unless the stay is to be short, a wagon or pack animals should be provided for this purpose. in the army and out west mules are used for this purpose, but any quiet horse will do just as well. the old sawbuck saddle, shaped like the letter x, answers very well, but the mexican pack, known as the aparcho, is much better. it is made of a plated straw matting, on which is fastened a strong wicker-work saddle, and a properly folded blanket, for you must be careful that the animal's back does not get sore. the saddle is fastened by pliant ropes, or broad belts of leather, called in the west "cinches," to fasten which securely requires some skill, as they pass through a circular ring and are secured by a hitch or peculiar knot that holds well and can be unfastened with a quick jerk. for a journey of ten miles or more i would not advise you to make the pack load more than two hundred pounds, though i have known mules to carry three hundred pounds at a pace of twenty miles a day over rough trails. if the pack is heavy, it may be lightened by having each camper carry his own blankets, in a roll, the case resting on the right shoulder. i would advise each to carry a canteen if there is danger of your being long away from good water. you should have the following articles: a long-handled frying pan, a bunch of a half dozen pieces of telegraph wire, each two feet long, with which to make a spider or broiler; by simply laying them across the fire or over the hot coals you have a gridiron; you may bundle it up when its work is done; three or four assorted tin buckets for cooking purposes and for water; a tin coffee pot; a long iron fork; a long iron spoon; some cheap tin cups, plates and spoons, and some forks and knives. do not depend upon the fish and game for food supply, but take along some boneless bacon and fat pork. with the latter, you can cook your fish, and the former is good for a relish with whatever fresh meat you may secure. then you should have some good ground coffee in a tightly closed box. some tea in a screw-top glass preserve jar, sugar, salt, prepared flour, corn meal, rice, beans, oatmeal, condensed milk, evaporated cream, crackers, and as much canned or dried fruits as you can transport without overloading--these are not necessaries, but all of them will come handy. _worth remembering_. it is not well for a lot of boys, no matter how strong and intelligent, to go off camping unless one of their number has had practical experience in that kind of life. it would be better to have a man in the party and to follow his instructions, as a soldier obeys his superior. before starting off it will be well to learn just what each member of the party can do best, and assign him to that work for the time. afterwards it might be advisable to take turns at the work thought to be least agreeable. cooking, washing dishes, gathering fuel and keeping the camp in order are just as essential as hunting or fishing, more so, indeed; for cooking, etc., are necessary, while fishing and hunting are pleasures. keep your own person clean and carry along needles and thread so that you may be able to repair the rents in your own clothes. before going into camp every boy should know how to wash, dry and fold his own flannel shirt, stockings and handkerchiefs. the captain of the camp should write out his orders and post them so that they can be read by all; nothing should be left to chance. under all circumstances keep your temper and remember your companions are entitled to a good time as well as yourself. don't be selfish, and don't go camping with boys who have that vulgar characteristic. chapter xx can you ride a "bike?" some things worth knowing about the wheel, and something about other things to begin with, i am not going to tell you how to ride a bicycle. the only way to learn that is to get a wheel, and if it bucks you off, mount again and keep on trying until you master the machine. i have heard folks say that the bicycle is going out of fashion. that is sheer nonsense! what have boys, or sturdy young men, or sturdy old ones for that matter, to do with fashion? the bike is here, and it has come to stay, and to go on revolving as long as folks live on a revolving world. bike parties that make explorations lasting for days, or even for weeks, are now not unusual, and if they travel prepared to make camp wherever night overtakes them, the more healthful the sport and the more novel and independent the tour. you should know how to carry the necessary baggage on your wheel. it is customary in ordinary wheeling to strip a machine of every ounce of weight not necessary. many riders travel without even a tool bag, pump or wrench. the additional weight of a few tools cannot be sufficient to make much difference to a rider. if you are a "scorcher" and are out to pass everything you meet, the less weight you carry the better time you can make. but the wheel is used by most boys for other purposes. the pathway of the biker is not always straight and smooth, as every boy who has ridden a wheel knows. the collision can always be avoided by good eyes and reasonable speed, but no eyes are keen enough to note, and no skill alert enough to avoid the broken glass, or the bits of scrap iron that beset the path and puncture the tire. repairs a friend assures me that he has mended a punctured tire with chewing gum. now i do not think well of the chewing gum habit, but if the stuff can be found to have better uses, i am not the one to discourage it. so it might be well to carry a supply to fill punctured tires. this is said to be the way to use it. let all the air out of the tire, then with a flat piece of wood force the gum into the hole--of course the gum must be "chewed" first to make it soft. plaster some over the hole, then bind the place with a strip of rag on your handkerchief. this done, pump in the air and ride with care. a broken handle bar is bad, but a substitute that will work can be made if you have some strong string and a stout pocket knife. cut two sections of a springy sapling, and bind them securely to the front fork, one on either side, and sufficiently long to reach just above the broken bar. next tie securely a stout stick of proper length to the broken bar, and tie to this the end of the uprights. if properly done, this will enable you to finish your journey, which for a long distance is much pleasanter than walking and leading your wheel. a rope tire will often enable the rider to reach home. a few yards of clothesline, borrowed, begged, or bought from some wayside house, will enable you to make a solid tire. remove the rubber tire, tie it to your handle-bar, and take the rope and bend one end diagonally across the hollow in the rim of the wheel. wind the rope carefully around, over the bent end of the rope, around again alongside of the first length until the rim is covered. keep the line tight, and wind it until it fills up the hollow and is considerably higher in the middle than at the sides. the neater this work is done, the more comfortable will be your ride home. when the rope tire is complete, pry up the side lap and force the free end of the rope diagonally under it until it comes out on the other side. draw it taut and cut off the end flush with the outer wrapping. now pour water all over the rope until it is thoroughly wet; this will cause it to shrink and become firm and hard. have a stand for your bicycle when not in use, and keep the wheel clean and well oiled. no boy is worthy to own a tool or a toy, or anything else that is perishable, if he is too lazy or too careless to have a pride in it, and to keep it in the highest state of efficiency. the very best time to make needed repairs is when the need is discovered. never wait until the time comes to use the thing again. the boy who gets into that habit is disqualifying himself for the battle of life, in which promptness, accuracy and energy are the prime requisites to success. if you cannot take care of your things, or prefer to resign that duty to others, then resign your ownership too, and let some more deserving comrades own them. i have often wondered why "the rope"--as our western cowboys call the lariat, and the mexican lariata--has not become a national sport, for its proper use requires great skill, and it is distinctly an american institution. children of the mexican herders begin practicing with the lariat as soon as they can coil a rope. i have seen them catching cats and chickens with their little lariats, and their dexterity surprised me. the lariat may be of any length from twenty to eighty feet. it consists of a long, strong, flexible rope, with a running noose at the end thrown. i have seen them made of hemp, horse hair and raw hide-- the latter are by far the best, provided they are flexible and soft enough. the raw hide is cut and specially tanned, but for practice an ordinary thin rope will do. the noose is made by fastening a small iron eyelet to an end of the rope, and through this the other end is drawn. the greater part of the rope is held coiled in the left hand, while the noose is circled above the head with the right, and thrown when the proper swing has been reached. a post makes a good target. it should be, to start with, not more than ten feet away. after a time the distance can be increased, and the nature of the target changed. you will be surprised, if you try this, at the skill you will gain, and the pleasure the lariat will afford to yourself and companions. chapter xxi the old scotch game of golf-something about hockey and shinny in scotland, where the game comes from, golf has been pronounced "goff" for more than five hundred years. now that our president and other great men have taken to golf, everybody reads about the popular game, but very few know anything about it but the name. to such, the following facts may be of use. the game is interesting, and its rules can be soon learned, but like everything else we do for pleasure or profit, it takes a good deal of practice before one can pose as an expert. boys take to golf and soon excel their seniors. the equipment for golf consists of a large field, called "the links," to play in, a set of sticks or clubs with which to make the strokes, and a ball to be hit at. the start is made from a point called "the tee." the player's purpose is to send the ball, which may be rubber or gutta percha, and is about one and three-quarter inches in diameter, into a small hole. this hole may be from twenty to a hundred or more yards away, and the skill consists in doing the trick with the fewest possible number of strokes. the player who makes the most holes with the fewest strokes wins the game. this sounds very simple, and it is simple to understand, but not so easy to do. the links many of the best links are laid out where the soil is sandy and the grass sparse and stiff. such links dry quickly after a rain, and the ball is easily played and seen. the course in this country for the regulation game is sometimes three miles long; shorter courses can be laid out for informal work and practice. the links do not extend in a straight line. it is much better to have them wind about and end near the start. by carefully planning the curves, a golf course may be made to occupy limited grounds. it has become a rule to make eighteen holes constitute a full course. in the united states, however, comparatively few courses have more than nine holes, and good practice can be had upon a course with even a fewer number. the starting-point is called "the teeing-ground," and is marked by two whitewash lines at right angles to the course, forming a parallelogram with the side lines of the course five or six yards in length by two or three in breadth. within the parallelogram the player places his ball upon a tee or small hill of sand or earth from a half to three-quarters of an inch high. the holes are about four inches in diameter, and are lined with iron-- condensed milk cans or similar vessels may be used--and the ground for seven or eight feet on all sides is more level than the rest of the course and is known as the "putting green." the holes are placed at distances varying from three hundred to twelve hundred feet apart, and are marked by little red flags, which are removed when the player approaches. as a match game consists of thirty-six holes, eighteen holes gone twice over give the required number; so will nine holes gone over four times, or six holes six times, or four holes nine times, or three holes twelve times. so you see that if your ground is limited you need have but three, four, six or nine holes, and the fewer the holes the fairer becomes the game for strangers, because in going over them so often they learn the ground, and that puts them on an even footing with the home players. the clubs the golf clubs are something like shinny sticks in shape, but modified and better made, as the ball must be driven more accurately and much farther. the heads are made of wood or iron. there are a great variety of them, but the beginner does not need more than four or five. the driver, a large club with a long shaft; the head is wood. it is used to start and when the ball is on the tee. let me add here that when the luxury can be afforded, it is usual to employ a boy, known as a "caddy" to carry the bag or receptacle in which the different clubs are kept. the brassie is much like the driver, except that it has a brass head or plate on the hitting part. it is used for a good send when the ball is in a favorable place. the cleek and lofter are iron-headed clubs, and are used to drive the ball far and low. a hundred and twenty yard stroke is good, but not unusual. the golf ball, as i have said, is made of hard rubber, but in learning the game any hard ball of medium size will do, and one club will be enough with which to practice. hazards are obstructions in the way of the ball. a bunker is a hazard, such as a fence, wall, hedge, depression, or trees. the ground between the holes should be cleared as far as possible of all obstructions. hazards are not objected to by good players, as they add to the sport. the game called "singles" is where two players, each with his own ball, play against each other. a "foursomes" is when two players play against another two, each side having a ball and the partners playing alternately. often a skilled player will match himself against a number of inferiors; this is called a three or four ball match. shinny of course every boy who can wield a stick has played at this fine, simple old game. one does not need many tools for this sport. a stout shinny stick, curved at the business end, like the best walking sticks, and a ball, or even a chunk of wood, if not too heavy, and large, will do. the game is played between chosen sides under the lead of properly selected captains. two goals, from ten to a hundred yards apart, are marked out, and between these the ball is placed. this done, the captains display their skill by stationing their men in such a way that they may guard their respective goals if their opponents are driving that way. the captains start the ball a-rolling; all are free to dash in and strike, taking care to guard their own heads and not to hurt the heads of the enemy, for this is a contest, not a battle. each party must keep on its own side, and each goal gained is a game. hockey does not differ much from shinny. in this game the ball is called a hockey, and it does not matter what you call the curved sticks. the goals are selected, and the sides chosen as in shinny, but in this game the captains toss up for first strike. when the ball is struck, the opposite side tries to stop it, and the contest is on. when the ball is sent over the opponent's goal line, the game is won. winter chapter xxii on the ice and snow--the royal sport of skating, with some hints on skiing, and snowshoes outdoor sports in winter are necessarily restricted to the thing that can be done in the snow or on the ice. but what glorious, health- giving, strength-making things they are! it is from the land of the stern winter that the world's greatest men have come. usually the frost comes before the snow, and with what joy the boys and the girls hear the news, brought by a rosy, eager comrade: "the ice is strong enough to bear." of course, our first experience on the ice was when we tried our first slide guided by the hand of a stronger and more expert companion. how soon we learned to do the trick, and what fun there was in "keep the pot a-boiling," while strings of youngsters took the slide. what if some did topple over? no bones were broken, and the incident always caused a lot of good-natured laughter. roller skating indoors or on smooth roads is certainly a good preparation for ice skating, but it is not at all necessary to begin that way, any more than it is to practice swimming with a support about the body. it is said the children in holland learn to skate as soon as they leave the cradle. certainly the young south sea islanders learn to swim at an equally early age. my advice is: begin skating as soon as santa claus, or some other good fairy gives you skates of the right size. some more advice: never, from first to last, skate with your hands in your pockets. leaves, sticks, bits of paper, or similar obstructions may check and stop, perhaps throw you, and at such times the hands should be free to ease the fall. in the old days, with the help of the blacksmith, the harness maker, and the carpenter, boys had to put their own skates together. those were certainly clumsy affairs, but there was no end of good sport in them. to-day, the patent, clamp skate, fitting snug and securely and without any tight straps or tiresome screws, can be bought cheaply and fastened on in a jiffy. but can you use them when on? that is the question. if you can't, be assured you will soon learn, with patience, practice and the advice of a more experienced companion. wrong help i note that some books on skating advise the beginner to take a chair to the ice and learn on this till confidence is gained. now confidence is never gained by leaning on anything or depending on any person. start in to win by having confidence in yourself. this applies to your life work as well as to skating. when you have mastered your legs somewhat, and can move fairly well forward, it will be quite time for you to learn some other way of getting experience and fun from the sport. begin the variation by trying to cut a forward circle. to begin, you strike out on the left foot, with the body leaning toward the left, the center of the proposed circle. when the weight of the body is on the outside edge, the line described by the skate runner will be a curve directed outward. as soon as you find that you can continue on that stroke no longer bring the right foot quickly forward and down. this last must be a short stroke of only sufficient duration to give you time for another outer-edge stroke with your left foot. at first you will make a very large circle, but gradually you will be able to contract the dimensions. when you have mastered the left-foot circle, try it on the right foot, and practice until you are able to go either way with equal speed. the backward circle, when learned, is easier than the forward ring, for the push stroke is made with the toe. when going backward great force can be given to the toe-push stroke by slightly lifting the heel. to cut the circle backward, you must simply reverse your forward movement. to skate backward, work or scull yourself along any way, until you are able to detect the proper movement and proper manner of giving the strokes. this accomplished, you may call yourself a good plain skater. the spread eagle is one of the first steps in the advance from plain to fancy skating. even when well done, it lacks the elements of grace, but it is most excellent practice to render the limbs supple, and make other more graceful tricks possible; and it is a favorite performance of boy skaters. you must skate straightaway until you have gained sufficient headway, then at the end of the last stroke turn the toes out so that the runners of your skates make a straight line, heel to heel, one skate following the other. in this position you will glide over the ice until the momentum first gained is exhausted. at first the beginner will be only partially successful, but gradually he will be able to describe a wide circle forward, and in a little while gain sufficient control of his feet to slide across the skating pond in a straight line. the spread eagle backward will be found more difficult, for it necessitates turning the toes out until they point backward. in performing this last feat, it is no easy matter to keep your balance, but perfection comes with practice, and soon the boy who devotes time to practice will excite the admiration of his comrades by the ease with which he turns either forward or backward. during his practice the beginner will undoubtedly bend his knees, but after he has reached that point of excellence where his whole mind need not be centered on his feet, he may learn gradually to straighten his legs until at last he can do the spread eagle forward and backward without looking like a straddle bug. a ring can be made without lifting your skates from the ice. this is called a spread-eagle circle, and it is cut by spreading the feet. the skater must learn to keep his feet moving, first the right foot forward and the left foot back, then the left foot forward and right foot back, always with toes turned out spread-eagle fashion. when properly done, this motion will cause the skater to glide around in a circle, his feet moving in a most bewildering manner, while they weave a pretty grape-vine pattern on the ice. it would take a volume properly to tell all the possibilities of skating, and the ice games, like shinny, and curling. but the boy who can manage the movements already indicated will be sure to learn by himself the more advanced art of this fine sport. snow shoes are not so well known in the united states as in canada and throughout the st. lawrence valley. snow shoes are shaped very much like tennis rackets, and are made in much the same way and of much the same material. they are from thirty to thirty-six inches in length, and about one-third that in width. the broad point is to the front, and some eight inches back of this the foot is fastened by means of straps to the front and sides. the framework can be of light willow or strong rattan. the meshes should be closer than in a racket, and the best are made of water-proofed rawhide. it requires much practice to become expert in the use of the snow shoe; but once the skill is acquired, twice the distance, over soft snow, can be made in the day, as compared with the average foot man on ordinary ground. without snow shoes, winter travel would be well nigh impossible over large areas of british north america. we are indebted to the indians for this valuable aid to locomotion. skiing pronounced in norwegian "sheeting"--is the great winter sport of the norwegians and swedes. the sport is fast being introduced into this country and is gaining in popularity in every place where the two requisites--snow and a long, steep hill--can be had. the ski is a strip of ash or spruce wood, turned up in front like a sled runner, and smooth and straight grained. the length varies from six to ten feet, the width from three to four inches, and the thickness from. a third to three-fourths of an inch. the strap, attached by screws to the middle of the ski, is fastened over the toe part of the foot, leaving the heel free to rise and fall. skies are hard to manage going up hill, but on a level of soft snow a great pace can be kept up. but it is in going down hill, and leaping from a "jounce" that the skier is at his best. it is not unusual for experts to jump one hundred and twenty feet from rise to fall. chapter xxiii coasting; sleds of many kinds--the toboggan long before the strong, light, machine-made sled was put on the market or even thought of, the american boy was his own sled-maker, and if this sled was not so sightly, it certainly got there as effectively as does its modern rival. the best of the old-time sleds were made by cutting down a small oak, beech, or maple tree that had a promising curve at the root. this was dressed, then sawed down the middle, so as to make the two runners. through each runner six holes were bored from the top, each pair of holes about two inches apart. into the holes were driven wooden pegs to hold the three benches. the pegs were long enough to go through the two stringers that ran in line with the runners. over this the frame was laid. the bottoms of the runners, when the material could be had, were shod with thick hoop iron, the nails being counter-sunk. in the center curve of the runners, holes were bored for the drawing rope, and all was ready for the snow. a quicker way was to saw out the proper length for runners from an inch, hardwood board, curve the fronts by means of a draw-knife, then connect the runners by braces, and cover with a frame of lighter material. these sleds, when shod at the blacksmith shop with half- curved iron shoes, were things to delight in, and two of them, properly hitched, made a fine "bob." the bob sled is superior in every way to the old long sled which delighted the grandfathers of the present boys. the old-fashioned sleds were steered by the boy in front kicking with his heels on the frozen snow, or the boy at the stern by dragging one foot behind as a rudder. this answers very well for the common sled, but when the sled is seven, eight, or ten feet long, and loaded underneath with pig iron to give it weight, the boy in front who steers has a difficult and exceedingly dangerous task, especially if the hill is steep and icy; and it is next to impossible to steer such a craft from the stern by dragging one foot behind. the double-runner is much lighter and very much easier to steer on account of the front sled being arranged so that it can be moved independently of the rear sled, for a turn to the right or the left causes the "bob" to take the direction indicated by the front runners; but double-runners steered with a wheel, lever or yoke in front, are very dangerous, as the steersman, in case of an accident, is thrown against the steering apparatus, usually with serious results. the safety double-runner does away with serious results, having a bridle with which it is steered. it also does away with the danger of collision by having an automatic brake that will stop it, in times of danger, within the distance of its own length. these are qualities which will be appreciated by all who "slide down hill," as we called it when i was a lad, or who are fond of coasting, as our school- readers called it then, and as every one calls it now. double-runners, or bob sleds, can be made at home, but the work requires so much varied material, so many tools, and so much skill that i shall not tell how the thing is done. a number of boys, who desire to own a bob sled in partnership, can have the work done by a wagon-maker, who knows just how, and has all the material to hand. such sleds, and they are usually well made, can be purchased at reasonable prices and of any size from establishments that deal in such articles. these can be found in any of our large cities. the safe and sane sled, for the ordinary youngster, and the average hill, is that which has a capacity for two--one is still better--and which is steered by sitting astern and keeping one leg back to act as a runner. tobogganing the toboggan is much used in canada, where the indians taught the first whites how to make and use it, and has become popular in the northern states, particularly along the great lakes. it is made of smooth, closely joined, flexible boards, turned up in front by being steam heated. the toboggan lies flat on the ground and may be of any length from six to twelve or even more feet. the passengers squat on furs or other coverings laid flat on the toboggan. the steerer sits behind and controls the direction by a trailing pole and sometimes with one foot. many canadian cities have constructed toboggan slides for the use of the people. the most famous of these is at montreal. this slide has a "joust" or obstruction at the bottom, which causes the toboggan and its occupants to leap into the air in a way that delights the experts and brings alarm to those who are taking their first ride. but the healthy boy does not limit his winter sports to skates and sleds. without either of these appliances no end of fun can be had in the snow itself. it would be a waste of time to describe snowballing, which may be made to afford pleasure, but which as too often done brings discomfort to the ones unexpectedly attacked. a snow battle now, a snow battle, if properly managed, is a different matter, and calls for that endurance and tact that distinguishes the true soldier. the two selected captains toss up in the usual manner for first choice of men. then alternately, as in a spelling bee, each chooses a soldier until all are taken. the taw lines are then drawn, about thirty feet apart, and two flag staffs with colored handkerchiefs for flags are erected in each camp. to bear the enemy's flag to your own camp, that is, over the taw line, wins the victory for your side. tackling is allowed, as in football, and is limited by the same rules. no boy bearing the mark of a snowball on chest or back is allowed to take further part in the game, as he is considered to be a dead soldier, but the dead soldiers may coach their comrades as often as they please. no tripping, no striking, no ice balls, and no "soakers" (wet snowballs) are allowed. snow tag is another good game. count out for "it." while "it" takes his place at the hub of the wheel, the other players scatter around the circumference or rim, and the word "ready" is given. "it" then darts out one of the "spoke" paths and endeavors to tag some one of the other boys, and the fun begins. two cannot pass each other on the narrow paths, and the fleeing boys often step on each others' heels, trip and tumble head first into the deep snow, forming an easy prey for "it"; but again the lads will dance around in a most provoking manner, and as "it" darts up one spoke toward the rim, the players dart down the other toward the hub, and show great skill in eluding "it." chapter xxiv some hints on general athletics, including walking, running and jumping i do not think the advice i have given, as to the games appropriate for each season would be at all complete, if i did not give some advice that will be useful for all seasons and every day in the year. to the boy the enjoyment of the sport is the first thing to be considered, but it is not the only thing. our lives are often affected for good or ill by very little things. injuries have been received by boys in sport that marred all their after lives. it is natural for the young to delight in exercise. it is by taking it that they develop, but the development, to be of value, must be along sensible lines. every healthy boy wants to be an athlete; wants to excel in some line, and as this ambition is reasonable, it should not be discouraged. the youth eager to win in his sports is not apt to be found lagging when he takes up the more serious business of life. competition is said to be the life of trade, and it certainly adds greatly to our interest in sports, but the boy who starts in to learn by trying to compete is doomed to failure. there would be more success in the end if we learned to go slower and so became more thorough in the beginning. there are certain exercises that every athlete must take to have a good physique, and the very first, and by far the most useful of these, is walking. walking can you walk? i hear you laughing at the question; but let me change it slightly and ask, "can you walk properly?" "of course i can," you reply. "i walk just like other folks who are not lame." now very few people walk properly, and no two people, unless it be soldiers or others who have been drilled to the exercise, walk alike. just watch and see for yourself. the good walker is always the graceful, easy walker. he stands erect, but not stiffly. his shoulders are well thrown back. he keeps his mouth closed, except when talking, and he breathes and exhales through his nostrils as the wise god meant him to do. his clothes fit him loosely and comfortably. he steps naturally, and without a trying stride, or a short step mincing gait, as if he wore hobbles. he walks by lifting his feet and not by raising his shoulders. and he wears shoes or other foot gear that do not breed corns or bunions. unless in a great hurry the walk, even the brisk walk, should never exceed three miles an hour; good heel and toe walkers have made forty miles without fatigue in ten hours, but this power comes only after long practice. walking is the very best, as it is the very cheapest, form of exercise, and it is best enjoyed on a country road with a cheerful companion. remember in all your exercising that good health is the one great object. suppress all ambition to be merely strong. many brutes are stronger than many of the strongest men, and many strong men have gone to pieces where lighter but more enduring men have come through the ordeal fresh and unharmed. this i have often noted in war times, when soldiers were called on to make a forced march over trying roads and in a downpour of rain. endurance is the great thing to strive for. the man who lasts is the man who wins. therefore, in your walks, particularly when you are learning to walk well, like an indian or a soldier, never try to do more than can be done without making too great a demand on your bodily strength. running running is a fine exercise, provided always that it be done in season and in reason. to do it in reason you must start in by acquiring the skill to run and the endurance to keep it up. there is one organ which if it stopped for a minute, the owner would be dead; that is the heart. yet many young athletes act as if they were not aware that they had hearts. no exercise that requires sudden violent effort, like fast rowing, or a hundred-yard dash in running, can be undertaken without serious effect to the heart. the andean indians will run, lightly and easily, at the rate of ten miles an hour, and keep it up for ten hours without rest, but you cannot induce them to make a short dash at high speed; they do not want to feel the warning thump of the heart. in learning to run, breathe as in walking, keeping the body slightly bent forward, and the elbows gripped close to the sides. under no circumstances start out by competing with any one, or by trying to run against time. such a course will result in final failure, and may bring on a serious injury. the jog trot is the thing to start in with. try it for a week or two, and you will be surprised at the ease with which you can do it. at first a mile is long enough for a run. after a month you can do two miles without as much fatigue. finally, if the gait be not too fast, you can keep it up for hours. after you have mastered the jog, it will be time enough to quicken the pace into a run, not your swiftest run, mark you, but a run that you can keep up for a mile, with as little exhaustion as you did your first mile trot. it is only by this slow, pleasant training, that you can ever learn to walk and run well, but when you have learned you will be paid for the effort, and then if the time comes to test your speed you will be ready to respond. jumping is closely related to running. it is an exercise in which boys delight, but which they seldom practice so as to achieve any skill. we divide this exercise into standing and running jumps, and each of these can be subdivided into high and broad jumps. in running contests, hurdles or other obstructions are placed in the path of the runner. these hurdles vary in height, but if you want to learn, start in with one or two about as high as your knee. of course, you could take them standing, and it is not a bad exercise, but learn to take them at a moderate run. when you can do this with ease, increase the number or the closeness of the hurdles and add to the length of the run. after a time you can take more and higher hurdles and lengthen the run, but never do either if you find your heart beating, or that the effort brings fatigue. i do not think the running high jump pays for the effort. it is spectacular, that is all; not so the running broad jump. this may be of use. it is safe and sane, and with practice it is surprising the distance that can be covered. after violent exercise of any kind, be sure to take a bath and a brisk rub down. if this cannot be had, a towel well soaked in cold water will make a good substitute, if you dry down with another towel. if your clothes are wet and you are exercising, they may be allowed to dry on you with safety, but if you cannot do this, get dry clothes if possible. i have known sturdy boys to contract rheumatism from wet clothes; and they never got over it. in conclusion, let me advise common sense. think before you act, even when you are out for sport. chapter xxv battle cries, hailing shouts, and college yells the american indians, like the uncivilized of all lands, had their own peculiar battle cry or war-whoop, which it is impossible to reproduce by letters. during our civil war the confederates gave a thrilling imitation of it in their famous "rebel yell," which every old soldier recalls with more or less admiration. the ancient greeks joined in battle with shouts of "eleleu!" the welsh cry was "ubub!" from whence comes our word hubbub, meaning a confusion. the irish war shout was nearly like that of the greek, being "ullulu!" the scotch clans had each its own shout or slogan; the pibroch being the chant of the march to battle. of old, the hungarian horseman, when charging shouted "huzza!" and so the name hussar is given to the light cavalry regiments of many of the european armies. the australian herders have a hailing cry, learned from the natives, which, properly done, carries a great distance. it sounds like "coo-ee!" the first syllable being made deep in the chest, and the other a shrill head note. the yaqui indians of northern mexico take their name from their peculiar war cry, "ya-kee," which is produced like the australian coo- ee. i have heard this thrilling cry for a distance of over one mile in the sierra madre mountains. all boys, whether bound for college or not, are always interested in what are known as "college yells." each college has its own yell, and in some of them great pains, if not great originality, is shown in the construction of the words. here are a few: _princeton_--"hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! tiger-siss-boom-ah! princeton!" and the sturdy sons of _yale_--"rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! yale!" quickly and sharply enunciated. _harvard_ boys cry, with long-drawn deep notes, "rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! rah! harvard!" _cornell_--"cornell i yell! yell! yell! cornell!" _williams college_--"rah! rah! rah! yums! yams! yums! willyums!" _trinity college_--"rah! rah! rah! trinity! boom-rah! boom-rah! trin- eye-tee!" _wesleyan college_--"rah! rah! rah! rah! wesleyan! rah! rah! rah! rah!" _brown college_--"rah, rah, rah, rah! brown!" _colorado college_--"rah! rah! rah! pike's peak or bust! colorado college! yell we must!" _the leland stanford, jr._--"wah hoo! ya hoo! l. s. j. u.! stanford!" _dartmouth college_--"hi! hi! hi! rah! rah! rah! d-d-d-d-dartmouth, wah, who, wah!" or, "wah, who, wah! wah, who, wah! da, di, di, dartmouth! wah, who wah!" _union college_--"rah, rah, rah! u-n-i-o-n. hikah! hikah! hikah!" _university of illinois_--"rah, hoo, rah! zipp, boom, ah! hip-zoo! rah-zoo. jimmy blow your bazoo! ip-sidi-iki u. off i. campaign!" _hanover_--"han, han! hanover!" _westminster_-"rah, rah, rah! oh, yes, sir! vive-la, vive-la! westminster!" _cornell, of iowa_-"zip-siss-boom! cor-cor-nell! c-c. tiger-la! zipp- siss-hur-rah!" _amherst_--"rah! rah! rah!" etc., and terminating with the name of their institution. boston university--"boston, b-b-boston! varsity! varsity! varsity! rah! rah! rah!" rutgers--"rah, rah, rah! bow-wow-wow! rutgers!" rochester university--"waxico, waxico, waxico, wax! waxico, waxico, waxico, wax! brek-k-ks--brek-k-ks, ah-h-ah! rochester!" university of washington--"u. of w.! hiah! hiah! u. of w.! u. of w.! siah! siah! shooken' shookem! washington!" hobart college--"hip-ho-bart! hip-ho-bart! hip-ho, hip-ho, hip-ho- bart!" syracuse university--"srah--srah--srah sy-ra-cuse!" this list by no means comprises all the college cries, but it will serve to illustrate the most striking of them. even the women's colleges have their own distinctive cries, and for oddness they quite equal those of the men. and now the high schools, and even the separate classes and school societies are indulging in original cries. but so long as these things keep up the class spirit and make for sound lungs and high spirits, why should old fogies object? chapter xxvi clever tricks worth knowing the vanishing knots for this trick you must use a silk handkerchief. twisting it, rope- fashion, and grasping it by the middle with both hands. you must request one of the spectators to tie the two ends together. he does so, but you tell him he has not tied them half tight enough, and you yourself pull them still tighter. a second and a third knot are made in the same manner, the handkerchief being drawn tighter by yourself after each knot is made. finally, take the handkerchief, and covering the knots with the loose part, you hand it to some one to hold. breathing on it, you request him to shake out the handkerchief, when all the knots are found to have disappeared. when the performer apparently tightens the knot, he in reality only strains one end of the handkerchief, grasping it above and below the knot. this pulls that end of the handkerchief out of its twisted condition and into a straight line, round which the other end of the handkerchief remains twisted; in other words, converts the knot into a slip-knot. after each successive knot he still straightens this same end of the handkerchief. this end, being thus made straight, would naturally be left longer than the other, which is twisted round and round it. this tendency the performer counteracts by drawing it partially back through the slip-knot at each pretended tightening. when he finally covers over the knots, which he does with the left hand, he holds the straightened portion of the handkerchief, immediately behind the knots, between the first finger and thumb of the right hand, and therewith, in the act of covering over the knots, draws this straightened portion completely out of the slipknot. the dancing sailor the dancing sailor is a figure cut out of cardboard, eight or nine inches in height, and with its arms and legs cut out separately, and attached to the trunk with thread in such a manner as to hang perfectly free. the mode of exhibiting it is as follows: the performer, taking a seat facing the company, with his legs slightly apart, places the figure on the ground between them. as might be expected, it falls flat and lifeless, but after a few mesmeric passes it is induced to stand upright, though without visible support, and, on a lively piece of music being played, dances to it, keeping time, and ceasing as soon as the music ceases. the secret lies in the fact that, from leg to leg of the performer, at about the height of the figure from the ground, is fixed (generally by means of a couple of bent pins), a fine black silk thread, of eighteen or twenty inches in length. this allows him to move about without any hindrance. on each side of the head of the figure is a little slanting cut, tending in a perpendicular direction, and about half an inch in length. the divided portions of the cardboard are bent back a little, thus forming two "hooks," so to speak, at the sides of the head. when the performer takes his seat, as before mentioned, the separation of his legs draws the silk comparatively taut, though, against a moderately dark background, it remains wholly invisible. when he first places the figure on the ground, he does so simply, and the figure naturally falls. he makes a few sham mesmeric passes over it, but still it falls. at the third and fourth attempt, however, he places it so that the little hooks already mentioned just catch the thread, and the figure is thus kept upright. when the music commences, the smallest motion, or pretence of keeping time with the feet is enough to start the sailor in a vigorous hornpipe. conjuring with coins coin-conjuring has its own peculiar sleights, which it will be necessary for the student to practice diligently before he can hope to attain much success in this direction. the first faculty which the novice must seek to acquire is that of "palming"--_i.e._, secretly holding an object in the open hand by the contraction of the palm. to acquire this power, take a half-crown, florin, or quarter (these being the most convenient in point of size), and lay it on the palm of the open hand. now close the hand very slightly, and if you have placed the coin on the right spot (which a few trials will quickly indicate), the contraction of the palm around its edges will hold it securely, and you may move the hand and arm in any direction without fear of dropping it. you should next accustom yourself to use the hand and fingers easily and naturally, while still holding the coin as described. a very little practice will enable you to do this. you must bear in mind while practicing always to keep the inside of the palm either downward or toward your own body, as any reverse movement would expose the concealed coin. passes being thoroughly master of this first lesson, you may proceed to the study of the various "passes." all of the passes have the same object --viz., the apparent transfer of an article from one hand to the other, though such article really remains in the hand which it has apparently just quitted. as the same movement frequently repeated would cause suspicion, and possibly detection, it is desirable to acquire different ways of effecting this object. it should be here mentioned that the term "palming" which we have so far used as meaning simply the act of holding any article, is also employed to signify the act of placing any article in the palm by one or the other of various passes. the context will readily indicate in which of the two senses the term is used in any given passage. pass i.--take the coin in the right hand, between the second and third fingers and the thumb, letting it, however, really be supported by the fingers, and only steadied by the thumb. now move the thumb out of the way, and close the second and third fingers, with the coin balanced on them, into the palm. if the coin was rightly placed in the first instance, you will find that this motion puts it precisely in the position above described as the proper one for palming; and on again extending the fingers the coin is left palmed. when you can do this easily with the hand at rest, you must practice doing the same thing with the right hand in motion toward the left, which should meet it open, but should close the moment that the fingers of the right hand touch its palm, as though upon the coin which you have by this movement feigned to transfer to it. the left hand must thenceforward remain closed, as if holding the coin, and the right hand hang loosely open, as if empty. palming in the motion of "palming," the two hands must work in harmony, as in the genuine act of passing an article from the one hand to the other. the left hand must therefore rise to meet the right, but should not begin its journey until the right hand begins its own. nothing looks more awkward or unnatural than to see the left hand extended, with open palm, before the right hand has begun to move toward it. pass .--this is somewhat easier than pass , and may sometimes be usefully substituted for it. take the coin edgeways between the first and third fingers of the right hand, the sides of those fingers pressing against the edges of the coin, and the middle finger steadying it from behind. carry the right hand toward the left, and at the same time move the thumb swiftly over the face of the coin till the top joint passes its outer edge, then bend the thumb, and the coin will be found to be securely nipped between that joint and the junction of the thumb with the hand. as in the last case, the left hand must be closed the moment the right hand touches it; and the right must thenceforth be held with the thumb bent slightly inward toward the palm, so that the coin may be shielded from the view of the spectators. this is an especially quick mode of palming, and if properly executed the illusion is perfect. pass .--hold the left hand palm upward, with the coin in position. move the right hand toward the left, and let the fingers simulate the motion of picking up the coin, and instantly close. at the same moment slightly close the left hand, so as to contract the palm around the coin, and drop the hand, letting it hang loosely by your side. the vanishing trick a word of caution may here be desirable. these "passes" must by no means be regarded as being themselves tricks, but only as processes to be used in the performance of tricks. if the operator, after pretending to pass the coin, say from the right hand to the left, and showing that it had vanished from the left hand, were to allow his audience to discover that it had all along remained in his right hand, they might admire the dexterity with which he had in this instance deceived their eyes, but they would henceforth guess half the secret of any trick in which palming was employed. if it is necessary immediately to reproduce the coin, the performer should do so by appearing to find it in the hair or whiskers of a spectator, or in any other place that may suit his purpose, remembering always to indicate beforehand that it has passed to such a place, thereby diverting the general attention from himself. as the coin is already in his hand, he has only to drop it to his finger-tips as the hand reaches the place he has named, in order, to all appearance, to take it from thence. the various passes may be employed not only to cause the disappearance of an article, as above described, but to secretly change it for a substitute of similar appearance. these exchanges are of continual use in conjuring; indeed, we may almost say that three parts of its marvels depends on them. such an exchange having been made, the substitute is left in sight of the audience, while the performer, having thus secretly gained possession of the original, disposes of it as may be necessary for the purpose of the trick. with this brief practical production, we proceed to describe a few of the simpler tricks with coins. heads or tails you borrow a quarter, and spin it, or invite some other person to spin it, on the table (which must be without a cloth). you allow it to spin itself out, and immediately announce, without seeing it, whether it has fallen head or tail upward. this may be repeated any number of times with the same result, though you may be blindfolded, and placed at the further end of the apartment. the secret lies in the use of a quarter of your own, on one face of which (say on the "tail" side) you have cut at the extreme edge a little notch, thereby causing a minute point or tooth of metal to project from that side of the coin. if a coin so prepared be spun on the table, and should chance to go down with the notched side upward, it will run down like an ordinary coin, with a long continuous "whirr," the sound growing fainter and fainter till it finally ceases; but if it should run down with the notched side downward, the friction of the point against the table will reduce this final whirr to half its ordinary length, and the coin will finally go down with a sort of "flop." the difference of sound is not sufficiently marked to attract the notice of the spectators, but is perfectly distinguishable by an attentive ear. if, therefore, you have notched the coin on the "tail" side, and it runs down slowly, you will cry "tail"; if quickly, "head." if you professedly use a borrowed coin, you must adroitly change it for your own, tinder pretence of showing how to spin it, or the like. odd or even; or, the mysterious addition you take a handful of coins, and invite another person to do the same, and to ascertain privately whether the number he has taken is odd or even. you request the company to observe that you have not asked him a single question, but that you are able, notwithstanding, to divine and counteract his most secret intentions, and that you will, in proof of this, yourself take a number of coins and add them to those he has taken, when, if his number was odd, the total shall be even; if his number was even, the total shall be odd. requesting him to drop the coins he holds into a hat, held on high by one of the company, you drop in a certain number on your own account. he is now asked whether his number was odd or even; and, the coins being counted, the total number proves to be as you stated, exactly the reverse. the experiment is tried again, with different numbers, but the result is the same. the secret lies in the simple arithmetical fact, that if you add an odd number to an even number, the result will be odd; if you add an odd number to an odd number, the result will be even. you have only to take care, therefore, that the number you yourself add, whether large or small, shall always be odd. to rub one dime into three this is a simple little parlor trick, but will sometimes occasion a good deal of wonderment. procure three dimes of the same issue, and privately stick two of them with wax to the under side of a table, at about half an inch from the edge, and eight or ten inches apart. announce to the company that you are about to teach them how to make money. turn up your sleeves, and take the third dime in your right hand, drawing particular attention to its date and general appearance, and indirectly to the fact that you have no other coin concealed in your hands. turning back the table cover, rub the dime with the ball of the thumb backward and forward on the edge of the table. in this position your fingers will naturally be below the edge. after rubbing for a few seconds, say: "it is nearly done, for the dime is getting hot," and, after rubbing a moment or two longer with increased rapidity, draw the hand away sharply, bringing away with it one of the concealed dimes, which you exhibit as produced by the friction. leaving the waxed dime on the table, and again showing that you have but one coin in your hands, repeat the operation with the remaining dime. the capital q take a number of coins, say from five-and-twenty to thirty, and arrange them in the form of the letter q, making the "tail" consist of some six or seven coins. then invite some person (during your absence from the room) to count any number he pleases, beginning at the tip of the tail and travelling up the left side of the circle, touching each coin as he does so; then to work back again from the coin at which he stops (calling such coin one), this time, however, not returning down the tail, but continuing round the opposite side of the circle to the same number. during this process you retire, but on your return you indicate with unerring accuracy the coin at which he left off. in order to show (apparently) that the trick does not depend on any arithmetical principle, you reconstruct the q, or invite the spectators to do so, with a different number of coins, but the result is the same. the solution lies in the fact that the coin at which the spectator ends will necessarily be at the same distance from the root of the tail as there are coins in the tail itself. thus, suppose that there are five coins in the tail, and that the spectator makes up his mind to count eleven. he commences from the tip of the tail, and counts up the left side of the circle. this brings him to the sixth coin beyond the tail. he then retrogrades, and calling that coin "one," counts eleven in the opposite direction. this necessarily brings him to the fifth coin from the tail on the opposite side, being the length of the tail over and above those coins which are common to both processes. if he chooses ten, twelve, or any other number, he will still, in counting back again, end at the same point. the rearrangement of the coins which is apparently intended to make the trick more surprising, is really designed, by altering the length of the tail, to shift the position of the terminating coin. if the trick were performed two or three times in succession, with the same number of coins in the tail, the spectators could hardly fail to observe that the same final coin was always indicated, and thereby to gain a clue to the secret. the number of coins in the circle itself is quite immaterial. the wandering dime have ready two dimes, each slightly waxed on one side. borrow a dime, and secretly exchange it for one of the waxed ones, laying the latter waxed side uppermost on the table. let any one draw two squares of ordinary card-board. take them in the left hand, and, transferring them to the right, press the second waxed dime against the center of the undermost, to which it will adhere. lay this card (which we will call a) on the table, about eighteen inches from the dime which is already there, and cover such dime with the other card, b. lift both cards a little way from the table, to show that the dime is under card a, and that there is (apparently) nothing under card b. as you replace them, press lightly on the center of card a. you may now make the dime appear under whichever card you like, remembering that, if if you wish the dime not to adhere, you must bend the card slightly upward in taking it from the table; if otherwise, take it up without bending. the magic cover and vanishing pennies for the purpose of this trick, you require half a dozen cents, of which the center portion has been cut out, leaving each a mere rim of metal. upon these is placed a complete cent, and the whole are connected together by a rivet, running through the whole thickness of the pile. when placed upon the table, with the complete coin upward, they have all the appearance of a pile of ordinary pennies, the slight lateral play allowed by the rivet aiding the illusion. a little leather cap (shaped something like a fez, with a little button on the top, and of such size as to fit loosely over the pile of cents) with an ordinary die, such as backgammon is played with, complete the necessary apparatus. you begin by drawing attention to your magic cap and die, and in order to exhibit their mystic powers, you request the loan of half a dozen cents (the number must, of course, correspond with that of your own pile). while they are being collected, you take the opportunity to slip the little cap over your prepared pile, which should be placed ready to hand behind some small object on the table, so as to be unseen by the spectators. pressing the side of the cap, you lift the pile with it, and place the whole together in full view, in close proximity to the die. the required cents having been now collected, you beg all to observe that you place the leather cap (which the spectators suppose to be empty) fairly over the die. taking the genuine coins in either hand, you pretend, by one or the other of the "passes", to transfer them to the other. holding the hand which is now supposed to contain the coins immediately above the cap, you announce that they will at your command pass under the cap, from which the die will disappear to make room for them. saying, "one, two, three! pass!" you open your hand, and show that the coins have vanished; and then, lifting up the cap by the button, you show the hollow pile, covering the die and appearing to be the genuine coins. once more covering the pile with the cap, you announce that you will again extract the coins, and replace the die; and to make the trick still more extraordinary, you will this time pass the coins right through the table. placing the hand which holds the genuine coins beneath the table, and once more saying, "one, two, three! pass!" you chink the coins, and, bringing them up, place them on the table. again picking up the cap, but this time pressing its sides, you lift up the hollow pile with it and disclose the die. quickly transferring the cap, without the pile, to the other hand, you place it on the table, to bear the brunt of examination, while you get rid of the prepared coins. the pepper-box, for vanishing money this is a small tin box, of the pepper-box or flour-dredger shape, standing three to four inches high. the "box" portion (as distinguished from the lid) is made double, consisting of two tin tubes sliding the one within the other, the bottom being soldered to the inner one only. by pulling the bottom downward, therefore, you draw down with it the inner tube, telescope fashion. by so doing you bring into view a slit or opening at one side of the inner tube, level with the bottom, and of such a size as to let a half-dollar pass through it easily. the lid is also specially prepared. it has an inner or false top, and between the true and false top a loose bit of tin is introduced which rattles when the box is shaken, unless you at the same time press a little point of wire projecting from one of the holes at the top, and so render it, for the time being silent. the box is first exhibited with the inner tube pushed up into its place, and the opening thereby concealed. a marked coin is borrowed, but either before or after the coin is placed therein, as may best suit his purpose, the performer secretly draws out the inner tube a quarter of an inch or so, thus allowing the coin to slip through into his hand. as he places the box on the table, a very slight pressure suffices to force the tube up again into its original position, and close the opening. having made the necessary disposition of the coin, the performer takes up the box and shakes it, to show (apparently) that the coin is still there, pressing on the little point above mentioned when he desires it to appear that it has departed, and immediately opening the box to show that it is empty. the pepper-box will not bear minute inspection, and is in this particular inferior to the rattle box. a nest of boxes this consists of half a dozen circular wooden boxes, one within the other, the outer box having much the appearance, but being nearly double the size, of an ordinary tooth-powder box, and the smallest being just large enough to contain a quarter. the series is so accurately made that, by arranging the boxes in due order one within the other, and the lids in like manner, you may, by simply putting on all the lids together, close all the boxes at once, though they can only be opened one by one. these are placed, the boxes together and the lids together, anywhere so as to be just out of sight of the audience. if on your table, they may be hidden by any more bulky article. having secretly obtained possession, by either of the means before described, of a coin which is ostensibly deposited in some other piece of apparatus, you seize your opportunity to drop it into the innermost box, and to put on the united lids. you then bring forward the nest of boxes (which the spectators naturally take to be one box only), and announce that the twenty-five cent piece will at your command pass from the place in which it has been deposited into the box which you hold in your hand, and which you forthwith deliver to one of the audience for safe keeping. touching both articles with the mystic wand, you invite inspection of the first to show that the money has departed, and then of the box wherein it is to be found. the holder opens the box, and finds another, and then another, and in the innermost of all, the marked coin. seeing how long the several boxes have taken to open, the spectators naturally infer that they must take as long to close, and (apart from the other mysteries of the trick) are utterly at a loss to imagine how, with the mere moment of time at your command, you could have managed to insert the coin, and close so many boxes. if you desire to use the nest for a coin larger than a quarter, you can make it available for that purpose by removing beforehand the smallest box. the ball of berlin wool an easy and effective mode of terminating a money trick is to pass the marked coin into the center of a large ball of berlin wool or worsted, the whole of which has to be unwound before the coin can be reached. the modus operandi, though perplexing to the uninitiated, is absurdly simple when the secret is revealed. the only apparatus necessary over and above the wool (of which you must have enough for a good-sized ball), is a flat tin tube, three to four inches in length, and just large enough to allow a quarter or half-dollar (whichever you intend to use for the trick) to slip through it easily. you prepare for the trick by winding the wool on one end of the tube, in such manner that when the whole is wound in a ball, an inch or so of the tube may project from it. this you place in your pocket, or anywhere out of sight of the audience. you commence the trick by requesting some one to mark a coin, which you forthwith exchange by one or the other of the means already described, for a substitute of your own, and leave the latter in the possession or in view of the spectators, while you retire to fetch the ball of wool, or simply take it from your pocket. before producing it, you drop the genuine coin down the tube into the center of the ball, and withdraw the tube giving the ball a squeeze to remove all trace of an opening. you then bring it forward, and place it in a glass goblet or tumbler, which you hand to a spectator to hold. taking the substitute coin, you announce that you will make it pass invisibly into the very center of the ball of wool, which you accordingly pretend to do, getting rid of it by means of one or other of the "passes" already described. you then request a second spectator to take the loose end of the wool, and to unwind the ball, which, when he has done, the coin falls out into the goblet. the only drawback to the trick is the tediousness of unwinding. to obviate this, some performers use a wheel made for the purpose, which materially shortens the length of the operation. chapter xxvii sleight of hand to balance an egg lay a looking glass upon an even table; take a fresh egg, and shake it for some time, so that the yolk may be broken and mixed up with the white. you may then balance it on its point, and make it stand on the glass. this it would be impossible to do if the egg was in its natural state. the juggler's lunch pare some large apples that are rather of a yellow tint; cut several pieces out of them, in the shape of a candle-end, round, of course, at the bottom, and square at the top; in fact, as much as possible like a candle that has burnt down within an inch or so. then, cut some slips out of the insides of sweet almonds, fashion them as much in the shape of spermaceti wicks as you can, stick them into your mock candles, light them for an instant, so as to make their tops black, blow them out again, and they are ready for use. when you produce them, light them (the almond will readily take fire, and flame for a few moments), put them into your mouth, chew and swallow them one after another. ring and ribbon select two pieces of ribbon, alike in length, breadth, and color; double each separately, so that the ends meet; then tie them together neatly, with a bit of silk of their own color, by the middle, or crease made in doubling them. this must all be done in advance. when you are going to exhibit this trick, pass some rings on the doubled ribbons, and give the two ends of one ribbon to one person to hold, and the two ends of the other to another. do not let them pull hard, or the silk will break, and your trick be discovered by the rings falling on the ground on account of the separation of the ribbons. request the two persons to approach each other, and take one end from each of them, and without their perceiving it, return to each of them the end which the other had previously held. by now giving the rings, which appeared strung on the ribbon, a slight pull, you may break the silk, and they will fall into your hand. the changing ball trick take a ball in each hand, and stretch your hands as far as you can, one from the other; then state that you will contrive to make both the balls come into either hand, without bringing the hands near each other. if any one dispute your power of doing this, you have no more to do than to lay one ball down upon the table, turn yourself, and take it up with your other hand. thus both the balls will be in one of your hands, without their approaching each other. the sensitive goblet to fill a glass with water, so that no one may touch it without spilling all the water. fill a common glass or goblet with water, and place upon it a bit of paper, so as to cover the water and edge of the glass; put the palm of your hand on the paper, and taking hold of the glass with the other, suddenly invert it on a very smooth table, and gently draw out the paper; the water will remain suspended in the glass, and it will be impossible to move the glass without spilling all the water. to light a candle by smoke when a candle is burnt so long as to leave a tolerably large wick, blow it out; a dense smoke, which is composed of hydrogen and carbon, will immediately rise. then, if another candle, or lighted taper, be applied to the utmost verge of this smoke, a very strange phenomenon will take place. the flame of the lighted candle will be conveyed to that just blown out, as if it were borne on a cloud, or, rather, it will seem like a mimic flash of lightning proceeding at a slow rate. the magic re-illumination after having exhibited the trick of lighting a candle by smoke, privately put a bit of paper between your fingers, and retire to one corner of the room with a single candle, and pass the hand in which you hold the paper several times slowly over the candle until the paper takes fire; then immediately blow the candle out, and presently pass your hand over the snuff and relight it with the paper. you may then crumple the paper, at the same time extinguishing the flame, by squeezing it suddenly, without burning yourself. if this trick be performed dextrously, it is a very good one. it is not necessary for the performance of this trick that all the other lights in the room should be extinguished; in fact the trick is more liable to discovery in a dark room, than in one where the candles are burning, on account of the light thrown out by the paper while it is burning, previous to the re-illumination. the moving ball roll up a piece of paper, or other light substance, and privately put into it any small insect, such as a lady-bird, or beetle; then, as the creature will naturally endeavor to free itself from captivity, it will move its covering toward the edge of the table, and when it comes there, will immediately return, for fear of falling; and thus, by moving backward and forward, will excite much diversion to those who are ignorant of the cause. the paper furnace enclose a bullet in paper, as smoothly as possible, and suspend it above the flame of a lamp or candle; you will soon see it melt and fall, drop by drop, through a hole which it will make in the paper; but the paper, except the hole mentioned, will not be burnt. the art of performing this trick consists in using a smooth round bullet, and enclosing it in the paper with but few folds or uneven places. storm and calm pour water into a glass until it is nearly three parts full; then almost fill it up with oil; but be sure to leave a little space between the oil and the top of the glass. tie a bit of string round the glass, and fasten the two ends of another piece of string to it, one on each side, so that, when you take hold of the middle of it to lift up the glass it may be about a foot from your hand now swing the glass to and fro, and the oil will be smooth and unruffled, while the surface of the water beneath it will be violently agitated. the end. tired church members. by anna warner, author of the "fourth watch," "the other shore," etc. "so two or three cities wandered unto one city, to drink water; but they were not satisfied: yet have ye not returned unto me, saith the lord."--amos iv. . "choked with cares and riches and pleasures of this life."--luke viii. . new york hurst & company publishers copyright, , by robert carter & brothers copyright, , by hurst & company. contents. tired church members music dancing theatres games what left? tired church members i suppose one never goes heartily into any bit of bible study, without finding more than one counted upon. and so for me, searching out this subject of christian amusements some curious things have come to light. as for instance, how very little the bible says about them at all. it was hard to find catchwords under which to look. "amusement"? there is no such word among all the many spoken by god to men. "recreation"?--nor that either; and "game" is not in all the book, and "rest" is something so wide of the mark (in the bible sense, i mean) that you must leave it out altogether. and "pastime"? ah, the very thought is an alien. "this i say, brethren, that the time is short." [ ] redeem it, buy it up, use it while you may,--such is the bible stand-point. it flies all too quickly without your help. "my days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle." [ ] "pass the time of your sojourning here in fear." [ ] not in frolic. so you can see that i was puzzled. however, by patiently putting words together, noting carefully the blanks as well, some things become pretty plain; and the vexed question of christian amusements is answered clearly enough for those who are willing to know. but as we go on searching and comparing, think always of the command once given and never repealed: "he that hath an ear, let him hear what the spirit saith unto the churches." [ ] for we call ourselves christians,--that "people of laws divers from all other people"; and now we are consulting our statute book. you think, then,--says somebody,--that christians are to do nothing but work, work, from morning to night: that the bible forbids all play and all pleasure? no, i think nothing of the sort. but let us see what it really does say. "to the law and to the testimony,"--and abide by them. to begin then where most of all, perhaps, the old and the modern times are like each other,--feasts have always been in vogue and always permitted; only for christians, like all else that concerns them, with a special set of regulations as to time, manner, and behaviour. you do not think of this when you dress for your dinner party: you did not suppose the bible meddled with such things. nay, it "meddles" (if you call it so) with the very smallest thing a christian can do. the feasts of old time were in all essentials so like the feasts of to-day, that not all the changes of race, dress, and viands can much confuse the likeness. there is the great baby celebration for isaac,[ ] and the wedding feast for the daughter of laban,[ ] and the impromptu set-out in sodom wherewith lot thought to entertain the angels.[ ] there are the great gatherings of young people over which job was so anxious;[ ] and the yearly sacrifice at the house of jesse "for all the family," [ ] reminding one of our thanksgiving. then follow state dinners of amity between two contracting powers; as when isaac feasted abimelech,[ ] and david feasted abner.[ ] then court entertainments: the birthday feast of pharaoh to all his servants, when he lifted up one and hanged another, and the birthday feast of solomon which marked his entrance upon a new life of duty, opportunity, and promise, and which he kept like a young heir coming of age. these are all well known to us: and alas, so also are the feasts of social excess, like those of nabal;[ ] and the idolatrous feasts of the men of shechem,[ ] and of the king of babylon;[ ] wherein men praise only "the gods of gold, and of silver, of brass, and of iron, of wood and of stone." "and the harp, and the viol, the tabret, and pipe, and wine, are in their feasts: but they regard not the work of the lord, neither consider the operations of his hands." [ ] "a feast is made for laughter,"--but this laughter is "mad"; utterly interdicted to all those who would "live soberly, righteously, and godly" in this world.[ ] such "revellings" are classed among "those works of the flesh which are manifest"; there can be no question about them: the "revellings, banquetings," [ ] for which "the time past of our life may suffice us." [ ] that time when we were without god in the world, walking as other gentiles walk. with all such "recreations" the true israel have absolutely nothing to do. does it follow then that a christian must stand aloof from all festivities that are not wholly among christian people? not quite that. "i am a companion of all them that fear thee," said david,[ ] and it certainly looks ill for a man if his habit is the other way. yet there are exceptions, there must be,--else, says the apostle, "ye must needs go out of the world." [ ] but like everything else for you and me, it is all within regulations. first as to the going. "if any of them that believe not bid you to a feast, and ye be disposed to go--" [ ] and then follows the first rule. whatsoever you can do there christian-wise; whatsoever you can join in that will not implicate you as a possible worshipper of _his_ idol that bade you--even the god of this world--that do. but otherwise there is the strictest hands-off! and for two reasons. "eat not for his sake that shewed it, and for conscience sake." [ ] no matter if it be something as simple as eating and drinking. that is the instance given by the apostle, the eating of meat which had been first offered to an idol. and just as once the missionaries in a far off eastern island never tasted beef for two whole years, because they could get none which they were sure had not been so offered; in like manner are you called upon to absolutely let alone everything which may cast even a doubt upon your loyalty to your master. can you go to the entertainment so, keeping your garments spotless? can you go as the lord did? "and levi made him a great feast in his own house; and there was a great company of publicans and others that sat down with them." [ ] pharisees murmured, but the lord knew why he went. "and jesus answered them, they that are whole need not a physician; but they that are sick." [ ] if you can go thus, to do your master's work; mingling with his enemies to win them for his friends; seeking their company not for their wealth and place, but rather because of their deepest need and danger; not for their gaiety, but for the abounding joy you would fain make known to them out of your own heart-store: then i should say again: "if any of them that believe not bid you to a feast, and ye be disposed to go,"--_go_! but beware of compromises,--that specious temptation not to make religion disagreeable. it can never be really that if it is the true thing,--a burning fire, a shining light,--but some one has well said: "when religion loses its power to repel, it loses also its power to attract." it must be intense, active, clear enough to do both. "the disciple is not above his master. if they have called the master of the house beelzebub, how much more them of his household"![ ] and it is only as an uncompromising servant of the lord jesus, that you can ever hope to do anything for him. on all days, in all places, you must count yourself on duty and under orders. you cannot pledge a man in the wine cup to-night, and to-morrow plead with him to escape for his life. you cannot join in the "foolish talking and jesting, which are not convenient," [ ] and afterwards reason of "righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come": or if you do, people will not listen. you will find that, like lot, you have "lost your spiritual credit." "he seemed as one that mocked, to his sons-in-law." "i had dined every week all winter with dr. ----," said a lady to me, "and never guessed that he was a clergyman till yesterday!" johnson said of burke, that "you could not stand with him five minutes under a gateway in a shower of rain, without finding out that he was an extraordinary man,"--and how long shall it take people to learn that you are a christian?--one bought back from slavery, called to be a saint, heir of a kingdom? ah, how ready men are to parade their worldly honours; their orders of merit and badges of bravery; but leave their christian colours at home, and hide their uniform with a pair of the world's overalls! alas!--"if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself for battle?" [ ] yes, if you can go into mixed society as the lord went, then go. but otherwise, for your own enjoyment, a different model is set. "then jesus, six days before the passover, came to bethany, where lazarus was which had been dead, whom he raised from the dead. there they made him a supper; and martha served; but lazarus was one of them that sat at the table with him. then took mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment." [ ] how exquisite the picture! how rare the intercourse, how precious the results! a few of the lord's own people met together with the lord himself; the one expensive thing mentioned being bought for him. it was only "a supper"; and there were sorrows before them, and sorrows behind, and only the spikenard was "very costly,"--that consecration to god which gives him all we have: but its fragrance filled the house. and not all arabia was ever so perfumed. and must christians give no other feasts but such as that? some one may ask. there is another sort mentioned, nay even insisted upon; but if the first looks to you dull, the second will seem--impossible! you will find a full description of it in luke xiv. . and so far as i know, this is the only sort of great entertainment that christians are encouraged to give; ruling out in toto the tit-for-tat customs of modern society. "for they cannot recompense thee." but it also spares you the perplexing question of full returns, for _these_ people have given you nothing. only the lord has given,--and now bids you keep open house for him in his absence. and do you see? the great master of assemblies will count the invitations as given to himself, and will one day make a royal return for them all when he cometh in his kingdom. "they cannot recompense thee." [ ] what!--never invite your friends unless they happen to be poor? o, yes indeed,--invite them, enjoy them, make much of them, precious things as friends are; yet _spend_ the most on the portionless lives that are all around you. there are fancy fountains in the rich man's grounds, throwing up jets of water just to catch the sunlight: let your small rills of refreshment flow silently to places where the tide is out and the streams run dry. "they cannot recompense thee; but thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just." [ ] and as soon as you make ready a blessing--not a compliment--in your hand, unfashionable dresses will not matter, untutored tongues will sound sweet; and your feast will be all glorified, for the lord himself will be there. "go your way, eat the fat and drink the sweet, and send portions unto them for whom nothing is prepared." [ ] "the levite, the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow," [ ]--"the poor that are cast out" [ ]--these were israel's special charge under the law. but the gospel gives deeper work. "when thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours; lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee. but when thou makest a feast call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind; and thou shalt be blessed, for they cannot recompense thee; for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just." [ ] the lord dates the note of payment far ahead, but indeed i think he is better than his word, and deals out much coin as we go along; it is such wonderful pleasure to fill an empty cup! this is "recreation," true and sweet; for of all the refreshments from one's own toil and sorrow, i think ministering to other people is about the best. i have said nothing--is it needful to say aught?--of the bible rules for _behaviour_ at a feast. one is ready to imagine that _christians_ do only that which is "lovely, and of good report." yet notice a few things. "they love the uppermost rooms at feasts," [ ] was spoken of the pharisees; but to his disciples christ said: "whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant." [ ] "when thou art bidden, go and sit down in the lowest room." [ ] other things follow close and easily upon that. "be courteous."-- "let your moderation be known unto all men." "whether therefore ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do it all to the glory of god." and to people with hearts so set, that other vexed question of dress will be easy; for all will be "clothed with humility";[ ] and the spotless garments will so far outshine the pearls and costly array, that no one will miss them, nor wish them there.[ ] [ ] i cor. vii. . [ ] job vii. . [ ] i pet. i. . [ ] rev. iii. [ ] gen. xxi. . [ ] gen. xxix . [ ] gen. xix. . [ ] job i. . [ ] i sam. xx. . [ ] gen. xxvi. . [ ] ii sam. iii. [ ] i sam. xxv. . [ ] judges ix. . [ ] dan. v. . [ ] isa. v. . [ ] titus ii. . [ ] gal. v. . [ ] i pet. iv. . [ ] ps. cxix. . [ ] i cor. v. . [ ] i cor. x. . [ ] i cor. x. . [ ] luke v. . [ ] luke v. . [ ] matt. x. . [ ] eph. v. . [ ] i cor. ii. . [ ] john xii. - . [ ] luke xiv. . [ ] luke xiv. . [ ] neh. viii. . [ ] deut. xiv. . [ ] isa. lviii. . [ ] luke xiv. , . [ ] matt. xxiii. . [ ] matt. xx. . [ ] luke xiv. . [ ] i pet. v. . [ ] sir matthew hale thus charged his grandchildren: "i will not have you begin or pledge any health; for it is become one of the greatest artifices of drinking, and occasions of quarrelling in the kingdom. if you pledge one health, you oblige yourself to pledge another, and a third, and so onward; and if you pledge as many as wilt be drunk, you must be debauched and drunk. if they will needs know the reasons of your refusal, it is a fair answer: 'that your grandfather that brought you up, from whom, under god, you have the estate you enjoy or expect, left this in command with you, that you should never begin or pledge a health.'" music "what do you mean by 'the world'?" said a gentleman to me. "i suppose of course you rule out music and painting." so people judge; taking for granted that whatever is pleasant, religion makes wrong. rule out music?--why it exorcised saul's evil spirit! yet even for the enjoyment of sweet sounds there are laws and limitations. it will be a good day when our so-called sacred music (much of it) more nearly resembles that of old time and has less kinship with the title of a little book yclept "rhymes and jingles." a paid choir (no objection to that, if you can buy up their hearts as well) an operatic organist, a silent, criticising congregation. is there much praise in that? much worship? much refreshment for a tired heart? look how it was when the ark of god, the visible sign of his presence, was brought home to jerusalem,--all took part in the music, from the king down; and did it _unto god_. "and david and all israel played before god with all their might, and with singing, and with harps, and with psalteries, and with timbrels, and with cymbals, and with trumpets." [ ] "the singers went before, the players on instruments followed after; among them were the damsels playing with timbrels. bless ye god in the congregations, even the lord, from the fountain of israel." [ ] not much like a quartette and its mute audience! or how does this compare, with the way we hand over the praise to some who do not even profess to feel it? "and david spake to the chief of the levites to appoint their brethren to be singers with instruments of music, psalteries and harps and cymbals, sounding, by lifting up the voice with joy." [ ] there is not much "joy" like that behind most of the choir curtains in our day; but by such means one would be pretty sure of good music. we are not told whether the women took part in the ordinary public music in the temple; but on all special occasions of deliverance and thanksgiving they had their full share. we people in this western world are so silent in our joy as in our grief,--as apt to bow the head for gladness as for sorrow,--we know nothing like those grand spontaneous bursts of music that once resounded on the shores of the red sea, or echoed through the hill country round about jerusalem. "then sang moses and the children of israel this song unto the lord, saying, i will sing unto the lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously." [ ] that was from the men. and answering them came the softer voices of miriam and "all the women," cheering them on: "sing ye to the lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously." [ ] this was no written music they had met to practise; it was fresh out of their hearts; with all their enemies "dead upon the shore," and israel free. or listen to the chorus of women that "came out of all the cities of israel" to meet the army, when david had conquered the philistine in single-handed fight. "and the women answered one another as they played, and said, "saul hath slain his thousands"-- "and david his ten thousands"-- you perceive that they understood music in those days; every word in the great swell of song so distinct, that saul heard every word--and "was very wroth." so "at the dedication of the wall of jerusalem" (think of _dedicating_ a city wall! how they must have believed ps. ) the dedication was kept "with gladness, both with thanksgiving, and with singing, with cymbals, psalteries, and harps." [ ] and as the bands of people went up to jerusalem to the three great feasts, they sang and chanted from time to time as they marched along, the levites at their head beginning the song, and the rest joining in. "i was glad when they said unto me--" [ ] "as the mountains are round about jerusalem" [ ]--and all the rest. ah what music! you see the bible is a great favourer of sweet sounds. but all this, you will say, was public and special,--not meant for recreation. let us listen to the bible music which is private and personal, and you will find it every bit as sweet. "praise the lord with harps. sing unto him with the psaltery and an instrument of ten strings. sing unto him a new song; play skilfully with a loud noise." [ ] are you not glad of that word "skilfully"? you see you may cultivate your talent to the last point, and may have any amount of new music. the lord's people are not meant to be bunglers, in any line. and yet some seem to think it is no matter how they sing holy words! this "new song" may perhaps be what david speaks of in another place: "he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our god." [ ] for as "his mercies are new every morning," [ ] so should also our praises be; new, fresh, vigorous; not always the same old words to the same old tune. "the songs of zion," so sung, are wondrously sweet; even the poor captives in babylon were called upon to sing them for the pleasure of their heathen captors. "the songs of zion." many of you imagine they are all pretty much alike; all solemn and tedious and slow. but listen. "i will sing unto the lord, because he hath dealt bountifully with me." [ ] can anything be gayer than that? or anything sweeter than this: "my heart is fixed, o god, my heart is fixed: i will sing and give praise." [ ] or where will you find richer chords that this: "i will sing of thy power, yea, i will sing of thy mercy in the morning: for thou hast been my defence and refuge in the day of my trouble." [ ] new, skilful, and then comes in another requirement; songs should be sensible. "i will sing with the spirit, and i will sing with the understanding also." [ ] know what you sing. does this keep out all _but_ sacred music? i should not think that. but it _does_ forbid singing you know not what in a foreign tongue, or mere dead nonsense in your own. i cannot see, for my part, why it is much better to sing "idle words" than to say them. how vapid, how senseless, is many a song one hears from a pretty mouth and a sweet voice. and in music as elsewhere, there is no middle ground: whatever does not edify--build up--pulls down. "it is better to hear the rebuke of the wise, than for a man to hear the song of fools." [ ] how run the directions? "singing and making melody in your hearts to the lord." [ ] can you do that? if not, music is no true recreation to you. whatever chills your feeling for eternal things, making them seem dull and far away, is no breath of life-refreshment, but comes bearing the fumes of death. do you think you would never sing at all, unless you sometimes forgot such solemn thoughts? ah there you are mistaken. "behold, my servants shall sing for joy of heart." [ ] not forgetfully, but in full remembrance. "is any merry? let him sing psalms." [ ] "thy statutes have been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage." [ ] now somebody will say that i have wandered quite away from recreation, and gone off to church. but no; i am speaking of heart and home music. you all know that there is no _recreation_ about most of your music now-a-days. you bore yourselves and other people with much practising, and when you have learned, as you think, then you drop it all. who is ready with a song for some weary, tuneless life? or who "keeps up her music" till the tired years of her own? work for it, pay for it, drop it,--that is the record. your music, as it is, is a dead thing; and i want you to put the principle of life in it. for whatever you begin for your master, you will also hold fast for him. read over these words and ponder them well: "he that had received the five talents, went and traded with the same, and made them other five talents." [ ] every gift the man had, was used for christ. how precious a gift this musical power is! how usable a gift. "a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument." [ ] how much it can do for ourselves, for the world. "david took an harp, and played with his hand; so saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him." [ ] i have never forgotten how a lady with no great musical skill or education sang a verse of a hymn for me one night. it was at a little party, so she could not raise her voice above the softest undertone; but she sang that verse just to let me hear the tune, which i did not know. the words were familiar: "there is a fountain filled with blood"-- i suppose i have often heard them what you call "better sung"; but never with more lovely effect. every word, every note, was absolutely distinct and clear, yet not one rising above that undertone: i doubt if even the people nearest to us heard; and the most restless nerves, the weariest head, could have listened and been refreshed. i know my eyes grew full; and i thought to myself, "ah, you have practised your voice by many a sick bed, and trained it for just that work." "the evil spirit departed from saul." but what of music that puts the evil spirit into men? of songs, however sweet sounding, that are written in the service of the devil, and sung at the high court of the world? for this is your rule: "singing with grace in your hearts to the lord." [ ] like your speech, "alway with grace." [ ] i chron. xiii. . [ ] ps. lxviii. , . [ ] i chron. xv. . [ ] ex. xv. . [ ] ex. xv. . [ ] neh. xii. . [ ] ps. cxxii. . [ ] ps. cxxv. . [ ] ps. xxxliii. , . [ ] ps. xl. . [ ] lam. iii. . [ ] ps. xiii. . [ ] ps. lvii. . [ ] ps. lix. . [ ] i cor. xiv. . [ ] eccle. vii. . [ ] eph. v. . [ ] isa. lxv. . [ ] james v. . [ ] ps. cxix. . [ ] matt. xxv. . [ ] ez. xxxiii. . [ ] i sam. xvi. . [ ] col. iii. . dancing "to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven." [ ] and so it comes among the rest, that there is "a time to dance." [ ] such being the case, we have only to find out the when and the how; for of course, for christians, dancing too must have its rules. in feasting the word is, "do all to the glory of god"; and in music, "with melody in your hearts to the lord"; and now for dancing the order comes: "let them praise his name in the dance." [ ] we are to praise the lord with our whole lives; in our recreation no less than in our work. you see it is all one: with that proviso you may do anything. "praise him for his mighty acts: praise him according to his excellent greatness." "praise him with the timbrel and dance." [ ] i fancy you did not expect this, secretly believing that the bible was all against dancing. i fancy most people would start back and say it cannot be done. _if_ it cannot, or if by _you_ it cannot, then--for you--the dancing question should be settled once and for all. the lord has given you "the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness," [ ] and you are not at liberty to lay it off for any dancing gear whatever. "ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light." [ ] the condition is absolute; and all doubts upon the dancing question are at an end for you. but for those who like to inquire into possibilities, let us search a little further. "praise him in the dance."--has it ever been done? never,--in such dances as you are accustomed to. but a great while ago, on the shores of the red sea, while the men were chanting the praises of that god who had brought them safe out of egypt, the women banded together "with timbrels and with dances" [ ] (no _mixed_ dances, observe), and so, dancing for joy at the great deliverance, answered the men, chorus like: "sing ye to the lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously." [ ] so after jephthah's victory,[ ] came out his daughter to meet him "with timbrels and with dances." so after the rout of the philistines, "the women came out of all the cities of israel, singing and dancing, to meet king saul." [ ] and though praise of the human agents mingled in, yet only divine power had won the day, and well they knew it. and again you remember how when the ark was brought home to jerusalem, "david danced before the lord with all his might." [ ] does it seem very strange to you? so it did to david's wife on that occasion; for as she had no praise in her heart, no sympathy with the joy, of course the expression of it tried her patience. dancing for joy,--we often use the image, but these people did the thing. it is hard enough to keep still sometimes, if one is very happy. not like our dancing!--you say. indeed not much. no special steps, no intricate figures, no elaborate positions, no dressing for effect. david even laid his royal robes aside, instead of putting them on; they were in his way. how could one dance for joy in a state dress? no need of partners, where every one danced for glad thankfulness of heart. no "envy, malice, and all uncharitableness" stirred up by another's dancing or another's dress; no "wall-flowers," no monopoly. no late hours, leaving mind and body jaded for the next day's work. i think "dancing before the lord" must have been very pure refreshment. and by the way, speaking of dress, i feel, somehow, as if--would people but choose their ornaments out of that treasure-chest of jewels "a meek and quiet spirit," ball dresses would lose their charm, and the german its great attraction. one never likes to go where one's dress is out of keeping. christian dancing, for christian joy. there was music and dancing, as well as feasting, when the prodigal son came home; returned from his sins, washed from his defilement, clothed at last in "the best robe" a sinner can wear.[ ] according to the word: "thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing." [ ] is such glad thankfulness so rare in our days that people have forgotten how it acts? and would such dancing be possible now? i do not know. but answer this question, and you settle at once the other perplexity whether christians may dance. for there is no other sort of dancing permitted to them, than this which springs up out of the mercies of the lord, and is all consecrated to his praise. it is not quite the only sort mentioned in the bible; but the others do not look attractive upon paper. one of them indeed comes more properly under another head, and the rest are all idolatrous; in the service and honour of that biggest idol, the world; whether any special graven image was set up or not. dances indulged in only by heathen, or by nominal christians who had swerved from their allegiance. when moses tarried long in the mount, receiving his orders, the people, you remember, grew tired and restless,--in want of recreation, we should call it now,--and then they "quickly corrupted themselves." weary of waiting, impatient of the monotony of their life, out of their own possessions they made themselves an idol, and then--danced before it! conducting themselves as well became those who had chosen a god that could neither hear nor see. "the people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play." [ ] and you will find this is always just what people do after unhallowed recreation: they _never_ rise up to do good work. test your amusements by that. recreation _should_ be a re-creation to every noble end. neither joy, nor thankfulness, nor the unbending from labour, was there among those poor israelites--those people of the lord in name; but only lawless mirth and unhallowed indulgence. "he saw the calf and the dancing, and moses' anger waxed hot." [ ] you think i am very hard upon dancing; and i have reason. "two years ago," said a young girl to me, "you told me that if i went on doing these things i should myself change; that i _could_ not do them, and keep myself. i was almost angry then, but do you know it has come true? i _have_ changed. things that i minded and shrank from then, i never notice now. i have got used to them, as you said. it frightens me when i think of it." poor child!--neither fright nor warning have stayed her course since then. a ceaseless thirst for excitement, an endless round of unsatisfying pleasure--so called,--a weary, old, disappointed look on the young face; broken engagements, forgotten promises, a wasted life,--this is what it has all come to. "hard upon dancing"? yes, i certainly have reason. do i not find it right in the way of some of my bible class who might else become christians? do i not know how it tarnishes the christian profession of others? do not the careless young men in the class boast that they can get the church members to go with them anywhere--for a dance? or how would you like to have a young girl come to you, frightened at things she had permitted at a ball the night before, entreating to know if you thought them "_very_ bad"? examine it, test it for yourself; only be honest. can you dance "in armour"? crowned and shielded and shining with "the hope of salvation," with "righteousness" and "faith"? are your shoes "peace"? peace of heart, of conscience. is your belt the girdle of "truth"? can you "shew your colours" in the throng? _dare_ you? are they not rather trailing in the dust, or quietly pocketed, or left at home? think honestly, and answer to yourself how it is. as in feasting, so here: you cannot dance all night with people, and next day warn them against "the world, and the things of the world," and even hope to be listened to. "i am as good as most church members,"--ah how often we teachers and talkers meet that rebuff! and how well the lord knew when he said: "he that is not with me, is against me." "doth a fountain send forth at the same place sweet water and bitter?" [ ] "a time to dance."--yes: whenever, and wherever, you can do it as the whole-souled servant of christ. and how about dancing at home, among ourselves, as people say?--without going any further, one thing forbids it all. if you dance anywhere,--you, a professing christian,--in the eyes of the world you dance _everywhere_. the world allows no middle ground for christians. "i saw her dancing,"--and nobody stops to inquire when, or with whom, or how. so that there is nothing for you but this: "avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away." [ ] [ ] eccle. iii. . [ ] eccle. iii. . [ ] ps. cxlix. . [ ] ps. cl. , . [ ] isa. lxi. . [ ] i pet. ii. . [ ] ex. xv. . [ ] ex. xv. . [ ] judges xi. . [ ] i sam. xviii. [ ] ii sam. vi. . [ ] luke xv. . [ ] ps. xxx. . [ ] ex. xxxii. [ ] ex. xv. . [ ] james iii. . [ ] prov. iv. . theatres. if i say that it degrades oneself to find pleasure in degrading things or degraded people, you will perhaps admit the fact but deny that it has any application to theatre-going. is it not a fashionable, intellectual, and what not, amusement? let us see. many of you who yet are theatre-goers, know well that you would feel yourselves degraded if even a dear friend went on the stage. "she has trailed an honoured name in the dust,"--so have i heard the comment, from one who was not even a personal friend. "she might at least have taken another name!"--and the speaker was not brought up among puritans, and belonged to a church which--as a church--has no fear of the theatre. i think occasional indulgence was common enough in the family. and the young actress had done nothing but become an actress, keeping her own name. friends are mortified,--and yet friends go to see, and to help along. "but what shall actors do?" you say; "it is their way of getting a livelihood." no, not if support were given only to _other_ ways. a man may make a round sum at a rowing match which cripples his strength for life; or by leaping across passaic falls, till he breaks his neck; he may set up for a wizard or a conjuror or a quack doctor,--he may pick your pocket or fire your house,--all in the way of business. the only question is in which way will you help him on. things must be judged of quite apart from their money-making results. the old african maker of "greegrees" (charms) burns them all when she becomes a christian; and the young carpenter just converted under mr. moody's preaching, gives up his only job because he can not do it for christ, and will not even drive a nail in the scaffolding about a theatre. for the money that changes hands there, is the price of "the souls of men." you do not believe all this: you do not believe that evil can hide among such fascinations. and for the actors, they are not men and women! are they not kings and queens and fairies? the glamour of their dress, the strangeness of the scenes, the un-everyday tragic or fantastic air of it all; with sometimes the witchery of music or the wonders of artistic effect, lay a spell upon your common sense. do i not know? have i not seen young christian girls from the country a standing jest with people who knew the world, because--beginning with what the laughers called "a holy horror" of the theatre--they yielded and went "just once." then, "only once more,"--and then presently would go every night, to see everything! when miriam was six years old, some acquaintances over-persuaded her father to let them take her to see cinderella,--cinderella and some part of der freischutz; and one who was there remembers well how hard the little hands grasped the edge of the box, and how impossible it was to win the young eyes round, even by a vision of sugarplums. to the end of her life, i fancy, she will see now and then a picture out of that fairyland. next day miriam entreated earnestly to have the pleasure over again; strengthening her plea with this remarkable promise, that if she might go once more, she would never do anything wrong again as long as she lived! her father paced up and down the room with a grave smile upon his lips, the little suppliant following with eager feet, ever renewing her request, and he answering little; for the matter was beyond her ken. but he was a christian who kept off the debatable land; and where his foot might not enter, he would not send his child. had he not himself dedicated her to be the lord's? she never went again. never to the theatre; never again to any such place, until long afterwards; and with that going he had nothing to do. miriam had grown up, had become a christian and a happy one; and as yet no "flatterer" had beguiled her off upon the "enchanted ground." but at last the temptation came, in a very specious way. there was a new prima donna at the opera house that winter; a young, pretty woman, working hard (it was said) to support her mother; and miriam, going daily to see dear friends at the same hotel, often heard the singing and practising that went on in the prima donna's rooms. and miriam was very fond of music, and had been able to hear very little that was really good; and now in a moment one thing took possession of her; she _must_ go to the opera!--tickets too costly, and no one to take her, made the thing look impossible on the one side; and on the other--there was her christian name and promise. of course it was wrong for christians to go!--she knew that. yet for the time, nothing seemed tangible or real but this; go she _must_! and so from week to week this fever of desire grew and increased, fed from time to time by those snatches of song that floated through the great hall of the hotel. at last one day her friends said (knowing nothing of all this), "miriam, you must go with us to an undress rehearsal. we have got tickets, and you must go." then beginning to answer the objections they expected--"it is only undress," they said; "the house half lighted, and the actors not in costume. anybody might go,--and you _must_."--"it's a very moral opera," began another. "of course we would never take you to see anything else." miriam was too ignorant of the world and its theatres to fairly understand all these advantages,--indeed i fancy longing made such a din in her ears that she paid but little attention. for a while she withstood--then desire rose up like a whirlwind and carried all before it. they had tickets for that very night,--her friends, said one morning,--a ticket for her also--and an escort. she yielded and went. went first to take tea with her friends, on the way; and i have heard her speak of the thrilling, pent-up excitement of that hour or two before it was time to set out:--excitement that made her as still as a mouse, and the careless chatter of her friends incomprehensible!--that made cake into plain bread and butter, and bread and butter into--chips, for all she knew. whether the excitement was all pleasure i doubt if she could tell; yet if you think miriam knew she was doing wrong, you would be mistaken. perhaps it was with her, in the tumult of longing, as fenelon says: "o how rare it is to find a soul still enough to hear god speak!" or perhaps the lord, in his wisdom, chose this time to let her set her own lesson. i can only vouch for the dream in which she sat at tea, and walked along the street, and entered the opera house; glad to get out into the starlight, almost awe-struck to find herself at last within those walls. the rehearsal was very "undress" indeed. the house, not half lighted, had yet fewer spectators than jets of gas,--a handful of shadowy figures, hid away by twos and threes in the dim boxes; which were almost too dark for the reading of libretti. however eyes were young, and the party put their heads together and began to study out the coming opera, and so get a taste of the pleasure beforehand. until--well, as i said, miriam was young and ignorant of the world, but a woman's instincts (if they have not been tampered with) outgrow her years and are independent of her experience. and as the girl bent over the libretto, some of these instincts took fright. she found out suddenly that those small pages were not just the reading she liked, with a gentleman looking over her shoulder; and instantly sat back, leaving the rest to their studies, and read not another word that night. she kept still, waiting for the music,--and then the music began. you who see such places only with all the conjuring power of light and dress upon them, have no idea how they look when things are transformed back again, and cinderella has lost her glass slippers, and the coach is a pumpkin, and the coachman is a rat. this night the actors came on the stage in more--or less--than ordinary dress; as men look when they have put on their dowdiest, for bad weather or dirty work: and these men wore their hats. only the young prima donna was bare-headed, and of course (being a woman) had not made herself a fright. "can a maid forget her ornaments?" and this just touched off the effect of all the rest. but the music!-- the many discords and melodies of life since then have at last confused in miriam's recollection the sounds she listened to that night; but for years liter she could hear them almost as distinctly as at first; and the _picture_ has never faded. the slim, fair girl; the rough, unwashed, unkempt-looking men; men whom (had she been _your_ sister) you would not have let touch her--as we say--"with a pair of tongs." the play went on. perhaps the libretto had given an uneasy stir to miriam's satisfaction, for as she sat now entranced with the music, suddenly there came to her the astounding revelation that this young girl on the stage, was singing those very words which the other young girl in the boxes had not quite liked to read. singing them at the top of her sweet voice,--trying to bring them out distinctly and with full effect. it was only a queen, to be sure; but somehow (missing the royal robes) miriam could see only a woman. close upon this came another shock. these dingy, untidy, soiled-looking men were now making love to the young prima donna,--first one and then another; this one in bass, and that one in baritone, and she answering in her clear soprano. answering,--sometimes _responding_. then they touched her, and handled her, and drew her about, as the exigencies of the piece demanded. and there was no glitter of dress to turn the one into a kingly suitor and the other into a faithful knight; the tarnished men were but men; and she--poor little uncrowned princess--was but a woman among them all; rubbing off the bloom and reserve of her woman's nature with every touch. miriam could never tell how sick hearted she grew as she looked. _that_ was this girl's livelihood; to go through all sorts of situations, with all sorts of men, for the amusement of other people. o yes, it paid well. had she been a teacher,--had she painted cups or stitched seams for a living,--her salary, her wages, would have been brought down to the lowest figure; but on the stage, at _that_ work, give her what she asks!--or make her so popular that the manager will. does she not "amuse" us all? if ever anybody was thoroughly cured of theatre going, that was miriam. it had been the greatest temptation of her life; but now a great recoil came over her, so that from that day, the mere thought of the stage brought only loathing and disgust. and so all women, _as_ women, should set their faces against it in every shape; even down to the most "private" of private theatricals. there cannot possibly be a wholesome imitation of a bad thing. i know it is very unfashionable doctrine. i know that even while i write, the newspapers set forth an advertisement of a play, prepared by a clergyman, to be acted by sunday schools in this sweet christmas time. alas poor sunday schools!--in full training for service under "the world, the flesh, and the devil."--"feed my lambs," the lord jesus said,--and between meals you give them whiskey and water! nor is it the children only who suffer. i could tell of one lady in that very man's church, who being much delighted with some such performance in the sunday school, went off the very next night to a theatre, to see the same thing _done better_. n. b.--she had never been before. "i will have dances at home for my children, lest they seek them elsewhere."-- "i will take my boys to the theatre, because i do not want them to go anywhere without me."-- real sayings, of real mothers, church members both. which sayings, in everyday english, read thus, "since i want my children to keep out of the world, i will bring the world to them at home."--"since my boys will do what i do not approve, i will guard them by doing it too." far different from the strong stern-words of scripture: "come out of her, my people." "touch not the unclean thing." and then the wonderful sayings of psalm i. . if anybody thinks i have given an unfair instance, or that i characterize it unfairly, let them take other testimony where no prejudice can be supposed. read mrs. kemble's "journal" of her stage life. read the opinion she gives of it all in her later "recollections." yet from childhood some of her nearest and dearest she had known as actors. i have spoken first as to people bound by the golden rule, and forbidden therefore to help anybody even to get a living in an evil way. for the work the theatre does upon yourselves, you know it, if you will be honest. people answer: "o if it hurt me, of course i would give it up." be honest with yourself, and you will come out of that delusion. you _know_ it does not make love to christ warmer, or thoughts of heaven sweeter; or the atmosphere of your everyday life more wholesome and sound. you know it leaves a restless craving for excitement,--you know it exalts the world before your eyes; and if you think a little you will find that, like my poor young friend in her dancing, you are not edified, not built up, but pulled down. let me tell you of one case where the mother was a church member, and had prayers regularly every morning with her family, but the command to _watch_ as well (_i.e._, "keep awake") she had forgotten. and the desire seized her to see--i will not write the name down here, but it was one of those foreign importations which have beguiled thousands. she did not want her son to know of her going, and so went with her young daughter for escort! but she found her son already there, and for twenty-eight nights running he was there again. why not?--if his mother went once? and as might be expected, the daughter has become (as people say) "wild for the theatre." among the people who loved mr. lincoln best, and could best understand the semi-official way in which he went to the theatre that fatal night, there was not one, i fancy, who did not feel an added shock at learning where he was when the messenger came, and who did not wish that he had been almost anywhere else. yet why? if the theatre is a proper place for christians to enter, it is as good a place as any other to be "waiting--waiting--when the lord shall come." the only thing i think of mentioned in the bible that is much like modern performances on the boards, is the dancing of the daughter of herodias before herod. she worked for hire, she beguiled her audience. "she pleased the king," and got from him all she asked for. it sounds very dreadful to you, no doubt, that the prophet's head should have been danced off by a pair of whirling feet?--but that is a slight matter. if dancing and theatre going did only take off the heads of protesting saints, like an old-time persecution, they at least would but exchange the prison for the palace, and so not lose much. but this stealing away the heart and service once vowed to christ, is another matter. you think it does not do this. you think your eye is as clear for heaven in the boxes as elsewhere. you think you can dress and go and look on and listen, keeping close to this command: "whatsoever ye do, in word or deed, do all in the name of the lord jesus." _do_ you think so? "i have never been to hear him," said dr. skinner, speaking then, only of a false prophet in a false church, "because i could not expect to meet my master there; and i will go nowhere for pleasure where he is not." what about the theatre, tried by that test? how surely the world marks every christian who is seen at such places; how certainly the children know that the parents have not yet forsaken all for christ. and how constantly ungodly men fence off your warning, with the words: "look at ---- and ----, i am as good as they. i do this and that, and they do it too. i don't see the difference." but "nobody knows." o yes, everybody knows. no matter if you are across the sea,--"a bird of the air shall carry the matter." but especially, the lord knows. he setteth "a print on the heels of my feet" [ ]--and step you never so lightly, the mark will be there, and the lord will know. and where your feet go, there others will follow. "is miss hope going to such and such a performance?" inquired a young man of me. i said no. he stood gravely thinking, and the talk drifted on. then suddenly i heard him say--to himself as it were:--"then i will not go either!"-- persuasions, entreaties, ridicule, are nothing, _mean_ nothing, if only you stand firm. and i have known gentlemen spend their strength in entreaties, and then when the lady held out in her quiet refusal, they said afterwards to other people that they liked to see any one true to his principles. staying once with some friends of rather free opinions and practice, priscilla was beset to go with them on a certain evening to the theatre. so eager were the words, so well-loved the friends, that at last she grew desperate. turning round upon the head of the house, she said: "do you really want me to go?"--he looked at her, sat back in his chair in silence, then answered soberly: "well, i guess i'd just as lieve you didn't!" depend upon it, the very people who press you hardest, professing to see "no harm," will feel they have lost something if you make them think the king's country is just like their own. whatever has happened to _your_ moral sense, _they_ know that the theatre is no place for a true-hearted servant of the lord jesus, if the master is all he is represented to be. if they met you there unawares, it would be with a thrill not of pleasure but of pain. let me repeat my question, is it as a christian you go to the theatre? can you go and keep your armour bright? does the helmet of salvation rest securely on your head? is the girdle of truth,--truth of life, purpose, and heart,--fast bound? the breastplate of righteousness burnished, the shield of faith ready against every dart that may fly in that great building? are they the shoes of peace on which you go in? not pleasure, but _peace_? is it the sword of the spirit with which you meet and parry the thrusts of idleness, folly, mischief? ah you know better! when you go to the theatre these defences are left at home, as not fit for the occasion. the house is built and managed and filled in the interests of the enemy; and of course your uniform is out of place. tired church members, do you go there for _rest_? [ ] job xiii. . games. dr. skinner[ ] used to say that all games of chance were unlawful. for inasmuch as there is no chance in the economy of this world, all use of dice or lottery in any shape is really an appeal to him of whom it is said: "the lot is cast into the lap, but the whole disposing thereof is of the lord." [ ] and you will agree with me that this is not a thing to be done lightly. in old times the casting of a lot was a solemn religious service: ushered in even among pagans with prayer and often with fasting; but what careless, reckless ignoring of god as the governor among the nations, is there in all connected with the lot in our days. what foul associations cloud and wrap up almost every game of chance: how soiled are the cards, how unhallowed the rattle of the dice. what degrading, debasing work is done by every species of lottery; what desperate evils spring up and grow out of "a chance" at a church fair! some years ago, at the time of the great german and french fairs in new york, a lady thoughtlessly gave her young son leave to buy "a chance" for a gold watch. thoughtlessly,--it was just a dollar to the fair and an amusement to the boy. and before twenty-four hours had passed, she would have given anything in the world to recall her permission. for at once the boy's mind became wholly absorbed in his "chance." the fair went on, the drawing was long delayed; and day after day--hour by hour, if he could--he went to inquire and to watch; and the mother saw her child in a true gambling fever, and she obliged to let it run its course. mercifully, as she said, the watch fell to another. "if it had come to george, i don't know what in the world i should have done." "we play for sugarplums,"--we "toss up" for nuts; but each time the evil seeds are planted. the mere habit of _talking_ of "chance," of "luck," of "fate," as if you believed in them all, tends directly to weaken your realizing trust in the great ruler of the world; who counts his sparrows, and numbers the hairs of your head. chance? if the watchmaker could not control one smallest wheel or point in his watch; if even a grain of dust got in and defied him; what think you he could do with mainspring and hands? one unmanageable atom would stop the whole. to quote dr. skinner again,--one to whom i think it never occurred to like anything but what god liked,--in his early life as a young man he had seen much wild company; and so strong was their association with evil, that to the end of his life he could never even hear the dice fall without a shiver. "put it away, my dear," he would say of even the backgammon board. "i don't like it--i don't like it!" for games of chance, as a rule, gather round them a setting of sin and sorrow which other games do not. i suppose men take in their practical infidelity, and grow lawless. you do not mean to appeal to god in your games of "chance,"--but if not to him, then to some other power supposed to be outside his rule or beyond his notice: "chance," "luck," or the devil. and it does not much matter which word you use. yet "tired" church members will play euchre and whist, and there are cards in the table drawer in the parlour, and of course a dingier pack in the kitchen, in many a so-called christian house; though the family hide them or apologize before people who are called "intense." the minister comes in upon a card party in his parish, and all rise in deprecatory confusion; and perhaps (ah i know it happened in one case) the minister waves his hand graciously, with a "don't let me disturb you,"--and so passes on. o it hurts one to have a fellow christian ask in the quiet evening at her own house, "would you object to our bringing out the cards?"--"i could not touch them," was all the answer, and the drawer stayed shut. but i wish a nonconformist church could rise up in these days. we are so busy calling ourselves episcopalians, methodists, presbyterians, that we seem to forget the old far-better name which should include all. in the war it was only loyal or disloyal: and new york was proud of the wisconsin boys that were all six feet two; and ohio wept for those of massachusetts who were among the first to shed their blood. dear friends, it is war time now: if you could only realize that, a good many things would be set straight. not able to give up doubtful games and questionable dances? why in ' the women fired at their tea kettles!-- nonconformists. but now, "my mother does it,"--"my aunt goes,"--"my father likes it": so run the excuses which the members of your bible class, children of church members, fling in your face. but what you call "lawful" games, are stupid. not all of them, perhaps; but if they were, that would not touch the question. paul's "if meat make my brother to offend, i will eat no flesh while the world standeth," was crippled with no such condition as "if i can get bread." and when the lord bade us cut off the offending right hand, no question of whether we could live without it came in. it is not absolutely needful that christ should find all his tired church members rested and fresh; but it _is_ necessary that they should be "spotless," "faithful," "ready," when he comes. there are other amusements that might be touched upon just here, but perhaps they are as well not named. whatever takes you full into the ranks of christ's enemies, not to fight but to follow them; whatever you cannot do straight through in the name of the lord jesus; whatever turns you away from the shining presence of his face; is unlawful for you. once remember that there is no middle ground, and then ask yourself what standing room there can be for you on a race course, what seat at a circus. if you are not with christ, openly, unmistakably, you are "scattering," even in your games. i asked a friend (a minister of deep experience) lately, if he had seen much of this private card playing among church members? he answered, "yes, a great deal." then i inquired what was the effect, as he had noticed it. and the reply was instant and emphatic: "_always_ evil!"-- carlyle tells of "patriots" in the french revolution who shaved each other out of the fragments of bomb shells, and wore ghastly trophies from the guillotine. but short of a reign of terror, making all men mad, one does not expect such things. few people (i fancy) if they knew it, would care to use the glass from which some poor wretch had drunk his draught of poison; and even to touch the murderer's knife stored up in a public museum, would turn most hearts sick. but if you could only see as god sees; if things in society were but labelled and classed; you would find your cards dark with the soul-life blood of thousands, and could hear their ruin in every fall of the dice. i was much interested in a recent english essay ("on the criminal code of the jews") to find how the typical israel regarded games of chance. as if something of the old blessed "the lord is our king," staid by them, even in the days of their downfall. the writer says: "all who made money by dice-playing or any games of hazard, by betting on pigeon matches and similar objectionable practices, were not only incapable of becoming members of a tribunal, but were not permitted to give evidence. the ghemara regards a man who gains money by the amusements named, as dishonest." [ ] once pastor of the mercer street church, new york, and professor in union theological seminary. [ ] prov. xvi. . what left? but you will say, i leave nothing for you, then; no amusements, no recreation. is that true? is the narrow way indeed so barren, that we must step out of it to rest? has the lord only food and water for his flock, and when they need change and refreshment must they leave their shepherd, and go over to the wolf for a run upon the hillside? that sounds hard for weak human nature--and strange, for a lord of boundless resources. and somehow the bible pictures of the flock shew wondrous contentment. "a stranger will they not follow." [ ] then following the master must be very sweet; for all men like variety, and the mere fact of a new voice is of itself enough to draw one aside. yet "a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him,"--o how much that tells! and here we touch the very root and spring of true refreshment, of real recreation. for while good general health is the best specific against mere bodily fatigue, so against a jaded, over-wrought state of nerves and energies, there is nothing like a heart full of joy and a mind at rest. "he that believeth on me shall never thirst." [ ] and if this satisfaction does not underlie all your pastimes, they will be a failure. no other stream alone can freshen even the small dry barrens of this earth. but besides that, what is there left for christian people? to begin: "dancing is such good exercise!" people say. granted. or at least it _might_ be. but instead of night hours in a ball room, get on horseback for two hours in the open day, and then balance the profit and loss. you don't know how?--then learn. you have no horse? go to riding school. an hour in the ring will stir your blood better than twenty germans. but you "cannot afford" to take riding lessons.--well to say nothing of ball dresses, just throw satin slippers and long gloves and carriage hire together, and see if you cannot afford it. ay, and have a ticket now and then for some one poorer than yourself. then for people who live within reach of the opera, there is generally much other good music to be had, at far less expense and with none of the objections. and there again, the money and time spent at the opera, would train the voices at home into a lovely choir. voices which now "have no time," and talents perhaps unknown. "everybody cannot sing."--no. and neither can everybody paint; but it is a delicious pleasure to those who can. what joy to go sketching! what delight to work up the sketches at home. what pure, noiseless, exquisite play it is. and if some of the party care nothing for pencils, let them lie under a tree with a book, and be part of your picture. "ah, books!--of course you disapprove of novels,"--some one exclaims. indeed no. a good novel is very improving as well as refreshing. and after much study over that word "good" (that is, for us, worth reading) i can give no better meaning than this. a good book, whether novel or other, is one which leaves you further on than it took you up. if when you drop it, it drops you, right down in the same old spot; with no finer outlook, no cleared vision, no stimulated desires, it is in no sense a good book for you. as well make fancy loaves of sawdust, and label them "good bread"; and claim that you rise from the banquet refreshed. a novel has special power of its own. it may be deeply historical, like "waverly," and "the tale of two cities." it may be a picture of vivid local colouring, like "ivanhoe," or "lorna doone," or "dr antonio." it may be full of social hints and glimpses, with many a covert wise suggestion, like miss austin's "emma." it may shew up a vital truth or a life-long mistake, like miss edgeworth's "helen," or open out new natural scenes like the "adventures of a phaeton"; or life scenes, like "oliver twist"; or be so full of frolic and fun and sharp common sense, that the mere laughter of it does you good "like a medicine." witness "christie johnstone," and miss carlen's "john." all such books are utterly helpful, and leave you well in advance of where they found you. they enlarge your world, they stimulate your life. only read none that enlarge it by a peep through the gates of hell. on _that_ side knowledge is death. but how is one to tell? you ask. books are not labelled "good," "bad," and "indifferent." no: and when you go to shops and houses you do not know what air you will find, perhaps not till you open the door. but you start back from one room, and hold your breath in another, hastening to get away; not because you have studied chemistry and can analyze the air, but because your keen physical sense is smitten. keep your moral sense as fresh, as keen; and the moment you find foul air in a book, throw the book in the fire. do not leave it about to poison some one else. and if you find no wholesome stir, no real refreshment, but only a feverish thirst beginning, lay the book down: remember, you are after _recreation_. re-creation,--the remaking and refitting of ourselves for better work, the resting for more labour, the learning, that we may grow thereby. _that_ is what you profess to need, dear fellow christians. then seek it,--and take no makebelieve. "nothing left?"--why the world is so full of delightful things to do, that one can but look at a quarter of them. they stand at my elbow ten deep. books and music, and painting, and riding, and gardening, with all sorts of studies of the wonderful works of god. you are not shut up to novels. books of art, books of travel, books of poetry, books of science. o how i have rested in the coolness of longfellow's "cathedral"; and with what delight seen alpine heights with ruskin. then there is that wonder of refreshment, the stereoscope. one comes back from a half hour there in a swiss valley as into a new world, with the dust all blown away. a stereoscope costs little, and views are not expensive,--that is if you are content with one or two at a time, which is the real way to buy them; choosing, considering, carefully selecting only those you cannot possibly go home without! i know we began with six; those six sorted out with jealous care from the contents of many boxes; and by ones and twos the little collection has grown into something worth having. and if you turn over every lot of views you come across, you will often find one rare and fine and cheap, thrown in among the rubbish. then there is the microscope,--full of rich pleasure and deep study and wonderful revealings. and here again no great outlay is needed. the days of only sixty dollar glasses are quite gone by, and for five or ten dollars--even less--you can get a microscope that will keep ahead of you for some time to come. on the other hand, if one has neither the skill nor the means to furnish a home-made telescope, there are other ways of studying the stars, from the days of ferguson down. you remember he used to measure the distance from star to star with beads upon a string. i have seen a man who could neither read nor write, and yet could tell by the stars the hour at any time of night; and it is a shame that we educated people who know so much, should also know so little. if you are in the country, and fond of "stones," get a geologist's hammer, and hugh miller's books, and give yourself up to happiness. or if you like flowers, study _them_; learning to know families and sub-families through all the floral peerage. but perhaps you "do not care for out-door things?" then get a bit of wood and a few carving tools, and see what dainty wonders you can make at home. or lose your cares in "illuminating"; or bury them fathom deep in german. from any of these, well begun and carried on, you will come back re-created for your work: made over "as good as new." not poisoned with bad air, nor wearied by late hours; not singed and jaded with chagrin, vanity, and disappointment. riding, rowing, archery, fishing, ought to give christian people enough exercise, without their being obliged to frequent ball rooms to find it; and as for the "grace" people talk of, nothing teaches that like a heart full of graces--"love, joy, peace," and the rest. do _they_ flourish at your doubtful entertainments? do they not rather droop and hang their heads, like the dear flowers in your bouquet? and if people sought their refreshment among all those sweet and wholesome things, conversation would no longer be the difficult and the dry thing it is in many a company. there would be something to talk about worth talking of; and men of sense would venture to talk sense, even to women; and gossip would go down. how much more interesting is a butterfly, than the curtains of the house across the way!-- the world is full of joys and pleasures and wonders, even yet, outside of eden. so full that as i said, you can only begin to taste them all, in all your life. i think it is stated that no ordinary life-term would suffice for the thorough study of merely the great family of orchids. and all these things which i have named (the list is really much longer), yes, every one of them, rightly used, will ennoble you, and build you up, and refresh you, with every time of using. not like the snail which crawled up three feet every day and fell back two feet every night: onward and upward shall be your course; with soul and body and mind re-created, restored by right means, to right ends. only make one rule to yourself: where anything is doubtful, let it alone. if you tell me i do not know the fascination of these other things, i tell you that i do; and in one line at least have known it as deeply as any one could. but i have also known, that with the coming of christ into my heart, with the new knowledge of his presence, the old taste fell dead in a moment, and never arose again. i cannot say it was not much to give up, for it was _nothing_. the former fascination fell off, like the dry skin of a chrysalis when the butterfly spreads its wings. and here we reach the very point of the whole difficulty. for with all their crosses, privations, and givings-up, the lord's people are not meant to dwell in any land of darkness or of drought. listen to some of the promises. "the righteous shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall be stronger and stronger." [ ] "they go from strength to strength." [ ] "they that wait on the lord shall renew their strength." [ ] for why? "for the joy of the lord is your strength." [ ] i believe the words are true for the body as for the mind. it is nowhere promised that you shall not be tired; but so waiting, so living, so abiding by the head waters of all strength, the most lovely, fresh, ever-renewed life shall be yours. "the righteous shall flourish like the palm tree." [ ] "their souls shall be as a watered garden." [ ] it is the man "whose delight is in the law of the lord" who not only "bringeth forth his fruit in his season," but also when the time for freshness and life and growth seems over, "they shall still bring forth fruit in old age." [ ] not only "created in christ jesus unto good works," but perpetually recreated in him, from hour to hour, from year to year. has he not said: "i will be as the dew unto israel"? [ ] no more age for them, thus dwelling in "the power of an endless life";[ ] no empty hands, for those who "have all things, and abound." [ ] no disgust of life or hopelessness of labour for servants who every now and then--from the midst of their work--follow the master (but only him) "apart to rest awhile," [ ] "a stranger will they not follow." you have seen such people; you may see them every now and then; with smooth brows and sweet faces and eyes full of the peace of god. "and i said, this is the rest, and this is the refreshing." [ ] i am persuaded, that without this, all forms of recreation that can be tried will be but as quack medicines, giving a temporary relief, only to be followed by a sorer need. and while there are a hundred lawful, sweet, wholesome means of rest at our disposal, i believe that even they will fail if used alone. and if you throw in all unlawful pleasures also, the failure will but be the more complete, "all my springs are in thee," [ ] and these other things are but channels through which may flow the loving kindness of the lord. from him comes all your skill to study, your power to sing: the ingenious fancy, the quick intellect, the deft hand, are all his gift. in this exquisite world of his wherein you work, his power, his care, his laws are around you as surely when you play as when you work. so that you can walk with christ always, as you are meant to do; looking up to him from relaxation as from labour, thus missing the intoxication of the one and forgetting the toil of the other. now whatever lawful things such a disciple may "amuse" himself with, you can see at once that for even the doubtful he could have no relish; counting them but as a draught from that "troubled sea whose waters cast up mire and dirt." [ ] neither would he come to his recreations tired of life, nor because his daily round had turned to "white of egg";[ ] but with genuine, honest fatigue, taking amusement as he takes sleep, and going back from it with a joyous rebound to his special weedy corner in the vineyard. "i know i am getting rested," i heard a minister once say in his vacation, "for i am getting hungry for my work!" "my people have forgotten their resting place"--let it not ever be said of you and me. but it is those not merely "planted in the courts of the lord," but who "flourish" there, that are the trees whose "leaf shall not wither"; and in this you have the whole story. a christian who is _flourishing_ where he belongs, will never go where he does _not_ belong. and no one who is dwelling daily in the clear sunshine of christ's presence, will need a dance to enliven him, or a horse race--or a walking match--to keep up his interest in life. there will be "melody in his heart" without the opera; and life will be full and bright and strong, without a speck of tinsel pleasure. work will be sweet, and play will be joyous; and by one and by the other the man will _grow_-- "grow, like the cedar in lebanon." now that you may prove all this, that you may begin right, be careful to take the full good of all the ordered resting times: to wit, the sundays. i wish all tired people did but know the infinite rest there is in fencing off the six days from the seventh. in anchoring the business ships of your daily life as the saturday draws to its close, leaving them to ride peacefully upon the flow or the ebb until monday morning comes again. o the delight, the lull, of feeling: "no need to settle this question--no need to think of this piece of work--for a whole long, sweet thirty-six hours!" why do you take sunday papers, to keep your nerves astir with business on the lord's own day of rest? why do you add up and consult and consider in the pauses of the sermon, or make opportunity for a business whisper in the porch, and on the way home? why do you let the perplexities of servants, of means, of plans, ruffle your spirits on the one great day of freedom? do not you know that even a debtor may walk abroad on sunday, with no fear of a prison; and house doors may stand open, and no sheriff can enter. shall it be worse with your mind than with your body? "sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares, of earth and folly born,"-- it is the high court of the prince of peace. "rest on sunday!"--i hear some earnest worker cry. "why sunday is the hardest of all the week!" yes, in a way that is true, for workers in the lord's work. yet as far as possible do not make it so. do not imagine that you have the whole world on your shoulders: do not try to have. do not lift up a burden you can by no means bear. the messengers came back to the lord with their reports,--so you. "lord, they will not hear--" "lord, it is done."-- work with your whole heart and strength; but then take work and class, and lay them at the lord's feet; and with them the tired worker too. so doing your work peacefully. and if monday morning finds you tired, it will find you also rested. the air of the world will have cleared somewhat, giving a nearer view of "the city"; its mountains will have sunk down well nigh out of sight, before the everlasting hills to which you may lift up your eyes for help. and labour and care and profit and loss will cease to be a tangle when stamped with this order: "occupy till i come." but for you who are _not_ workers (the why and wherefore are for yourselves to say) do you too make the sabbath a day of rest. yet do not let your sunday rest run into sunday dissipation by trying to hear all the good sermons at once. choose (and abide by) some true church so near that no street car shall be run for you, and yet--if possible--far enough off to give you a freshening walk as you go and come. neither take out your carriage, "that thine ox and thine ass may rest." [ ] of course i speak only of places where it is possible to walk to church. get up early enough to have no hurry and no "late." have a simple church dress that will need no fussing; have a simple breakfast, without "hot cakes," and a cold dinner, "that thy man servant and thy maid servant may rest as well as thou." [ ] i know it is charged upon the men of the family that they will never "stand" a cold dinner. but i have catered for just such many times, and i know they will. only be you careful on saturday, to provide a dainty repast that is _fit_ to eat cold--and then see. you will find those very grumblers charmed with their dinner, and praising it before any other in the week. you can always grace your cold dishes with hot coffee and baked potatoes. o the rest, the "recreation" of such a day! with all earth's turmoil pushed aside, and christ himself the one invited guest. unless indeed some needy friend, who can have no "sunday" elsewhere. people talk in these days with horror of the old puritan sabbath. but even if everything be true that they tell of it, i would rather spend sunday with blinds shut and pictures turned to the wall, than in the full week-day glare which fills some houses. and if you want refreshment from your play-times in the week, if you want heart and mind and face to keep fresh, begin the week with the lord's day kept wholly to the lord. "verily, my sabbaths ye shall keep: for it is a sign between me and you throughout your generations." [ ] a sabbath, a rest. rest of mind which lingering in bed will not give; rest of body which feasting could only hinder; a rest of heart by dwelling all day in the deep shadow of the lord's presence. so beginning the week, this promise shall be upon you as each day rolls on, "my presence shall go with thee, and i will give thee rest." [ ] "and in all things that i have said unto you be circumspect; and make no mention of the name of other gods, neither let it be heard out of thy mouth." [ ] [ ] john x. . [ ] john vi. . [ ] job xvii. . [ ] ps. lxxxiv. . [ ] isa. xl. . [ ] neh. viii. . [ ] ps. xcii. . [ ] jer. xxxi. . [ ] ps. xcii. . [ ] hosea xiv. . [ ] heb. vii. . [ ] phil. iv. . [ ] mark vi. . [ ] isa. xxviii. . [ ] ps. lxxxvii. . [ ] isa. lvii. . [ ] job vi. . [ ] ex. xxii . [ ] deut. v. . [ ] ex. xxxi. . [ ] ex. xiii. . [ ] ex. xxiii. . note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) transcriber's note: on page a printing error left a word or two not printed. the place is marked in the text: [**missing words**] holidays at the grange, or a week's delight. games and stories for parlor and fireside. by emily mayer higgins. [illustration: publisher's logo] philadelphia: porter & coates. copyright, , by porter & coates. [illustration: wyndham grange.] contents. chapter i. page the gathering.--christmas eve.--"consequences."--"how do you like it?" chapter ii. christmas day.--"rhymes."--"cento."--"genteel lady."--the fairy wood. chapter iii. "the rhyming game."--orikama, or the white water-lily; an indian tale. chapter iv. "proverbs."--"twenty questions."--the spectre of alcantra, or the conde's daughters; a tale of spain. chapter v. a skating adventure.--"what is my thought like?"--"questions."--the orphan's tale, or the vicissitudes of fortune. chapter vi. sunday.--bible stories.--"capping bible verses."--bible-class. chapter vii. sequel to the orphan's tale.--"who can he be?"--"elements."--the astrologers. chapter viii. "confidante."--"lead-merchant."--"trades."--the rose of hesperus; a fairy tale. chapter ix. new-year's day.--"characters, or who am i?"--"quotations."--"acting charades."--"riddles." chapter x. whispering gallery.--potentates.--three young men. games and stories. chapter i. the gathering.--christmas eve.--consequences.--how do you like it? not many miles from philadelphia, in a beautifully wooded and hilly country, may be seen a large rambling mansion, whose substantial walls show that it was built at a time when more attention was paid to the durability of dwellings than at present. it is, indeed, quite an ancient house for this part of the world, having been erected by a certain john wyndham, a hundred years ago; and it has remained in the family ever since, the owner of it generally inheriting the name of john, a taste for rural life, and the old homestead together. it was constructed in good taste, and with great regard for comfort; the broad hall, the favorite resort in summer, was ornamented with family portraits of many ages back, and a complete suit of armor, visor and all, struck awe into the hearts of young visitors, who almost expected its former occupant to resume possession, with his gauntleted hand to draw the sword from its scabbard, and, seizing the flag over his head, to drive the modern usurpers from the house. large antlers, bows and arrows, and rusty fowling-pieces against the wall, intimated that the descendants of the grim warrior had exercised their valor in the chase; while a guitar with blue ribbon, in the corner, told that gentler days had come, and spoke of peace, domestic joys, and woman's influence. many were the bright sunshiny chambers in that cheerful home; but i will describe one apartment only, the sitting-room, with which we are chiefly concerned. the furniture is quaint and massive; but it is the rich mellow light streaming through the room that principally attracts the eye. is it the western sun, tinted by the colored glass of the bay-window, or is it the ruddy hickory fire? what a remarkable chimney-place! few such can be seen now-a-days; they had gone out of date a hundred years ago; but it was ancient john wyndham's fancy, as far as possible, to possess a fac-simile of the family mansion in england, in which his childish days had been spent. what elaborate carving upon the huge mantel-piece!--hunters with their guns and dogs; shepherds and shepherdesses, with crooks and sheep; scriptural scenes and rural incidents, afford endless amusement to the groups gathered before the fire. before, did i say? around, is the right expression; for so large is the chimney, that while crackling up-piled logs blaze upon the hearth, a number might be accommodated on the benches at the side, as well as in front. it is the most sociable gathering-place in the world, and the stiffest and most formal person would soon relax there; while fingers are thawed, hearts are melted by that fire--warm and kind affections are drawn out--sparkles of wit fly about the room, as if in emulation of the good hickory: it is a chimney corner most provocative of ancient legends, of frightful ghost-stories, of tales of knight-errantry and romantic love, of dangers and of hair-breadth escapes; in short, of all that can draw both old and young away from their every-day cares, into the brighter world of fiction and poesy. in the recess on one side is a small library, comfortable enough to entice the student from the merry group so near him; on the other, is a room looked upon with great affection by the juvenile members of the family, for here does aunt lucy manufacture and keep for distribution those delicious cakes, never to be refused at lunch time; and those pies, jellies, whips, and creams, which promise to carry down her name to posterity as the very nonpareil of housekeepers. three persons are sitting in the room, whom in common politeness i should introduce to the reader: very pleasant people are they to know and to visit. uncle john and aunt lucy wyndham, the master and mistress of the house, are remarkable for kindness, and make their nephews and nieces, and whole troops of friends, feel perfectly at home at once; they are uncle john and aunt lucy to all their young acquaintances, and delight in the title. perhaps they would not have been generally called so, had they any children of their own; but they have none, and the only young person in the house at present is mary dalton--cousin mary--an orphan niece of mrs. wyndham, whom they have brought up from a child. she looks like her aunt, plump, rosy, good natured and sensible; she is just seventeen, and very popular with the whole cousinhood. she has many accomplishments: she does not talk french, spanish, or italian, but she knows how to play every game that ever was invented, can tell stories to suit every age, can soothe a screaming child sooner than any one else, can rattle off cotillions on the piano-forte of a winter's evening without thinking it hard that she cannot join in the dance; and lastly, can lay down an interesting book or piece of crochet work to run on an errand for aunt, or untangle the bob-tails of a kite, without showing any signs of crossness. self is a very subordinate person with her, and indeed she seems hardly to realize her separate individuality; she is everybody's cousin mary, and frowns vanish, and smiles brighten up the countenance, wherever she appears. a very happy looking group they are, but restless, this afternoon of the th of december; uncle john frequently goes to the hall door; aunt lucy lays down her knitting to listen; and cousin mary does not pretend to read the book she holds, but gazes out of the window, down the long avenue of elms, as if she expected an arrival. old cæsar, "the last of the servants," as mr. wyndham styles him, a white-haired negro who was born in the house, and is devoted to the family, always speaking of _our_ house, _our_ carriage, and _our_ children, as if he were chief owner, vibrates constantly between the kitchen and the porter's lodge, feeling it to be his especial duty and prerogative to give the first welcome to the guests. and soon the sound of wheels is heard, and merry voices resound through the hall, and cheeks rosy with the cold are made yet rosier by hearty kisses; it is the young wyndhams, come to spend their christmas holidays at the grange with uncle john. there is cornelia, a bright, intelligent girl of sixteen, full of fun, with sparkling black eyes. john, a boy of fourteen, matter-of fact and practical, a comical miniature of uncle john, whom he regards with veneration, as the greatest, wisest, and best of living men, and only slightly inferior to general washington himself; and george, his twin brother and very devoted friend, a good boy in the main, but so very full of mischief! he would get into a thousand scrapes, if his more sober companion did not restrain him. we must not overlook little amy, the sweet child of twelve, with flowing golden hair and languishing eyes, the gentle, unspoiled pet and playmate of all. her cheek is pale, for she has ever been the delicate flower of the family, and the winter winds must not visit her too roughly: she is one to be carefully nurtured. and the more so, as her mind is highly imaginative and much in advance of her age; already does the light of genius shine forth in her eye. scarcely are these visitors well ensconced in the chimney corner, after their fur wrappings are removed, before the sound of wheels is again heard, and shouts of joy announce the arrival of the greens. that tall, slender, intellectual girl, with pale oval face and expressive eyes, is ellen. her cousins are very proud of her, for she has just returned from boarding-school with a high character for scholarship, and has carried away the prize medal for poetry from all competitors; the children think that she can speak every language, and she is really a refined and accomplished girl. she has not seen mary or cornelia for a couple of years, and great are the rejoicings at their meeting; they are warm friends already. her manly brother tom, although younger, looks older than she does: a fine, handsome fellow he is. the younger greens are almost too numerous to particularize; harry and louis, anna and gertrude--merry children all, noisy and frolicsome, but well-inclined and tolerably submissive to authority; they ranged from nine years old, upward. just as the sun was setting, and aunt lucy had almost given them up, the third family of cousins arrived, the boltons. charlie bolton is the elder of the two--he will be called charlie to the end of his days, if he live to be a white-haired grandfather, he is so pleasant and full of fun, so ready with his joke and merry laugh; he is cornelia's great friend and ally, and the two together would keep any house wide awake. his sister alice is rather sentimental, for which she is heartily laughed at by her harum-skarum brother; but she is at an age when girls are apt to take this turn--fourteen; she will leave it all behind her when she is older. sentimentality may be considered the last disease of childhood; measles, hooping-cough, and scarlatina having been successfully overcome, if the girl passes through this peril unscathed, and no weakness is left in her mental constitution, she will probably be a woman of sane body and mind. alice is much given to day-dreams, and to reading novels by stealth; she is very romantic, and would dearly love to be a heroine, if she could. the only objection to the scheme, in her mind, is that her eyes have a very slight cast, and that her nose is _un petit nez retroussé_--in other words, something of a pug; and alice has always been under the impression that a heroine must have straight vision, and a grecian nose. hers is a face that will look very arch and _piquante_, when she acquires more sense, and lays aside her lack-a-daisical airs; but, at present, the expression and the features are very incongruous. it is excessively mortifying! but it cannot be helped; many times a day does she cast her eyes on the glass, but the obstinate pug remains a pug, and alice is forced to conclude that she is not intended for a heroine. yet she always holds herself ready for any marvellous adventure that may turn up, and she is perfectly convinced that there must be concealed doors, long winding passages in the walls, and perhaps a charmingly horrible dungeon, at the grange. why not? such things are of constant occurrence in story books, and that house is the oldest one she knows. she is determined on this visit to explore it thoroughly, and perhaps she may become the happy discoverer of a casket of jewels, or a skeleton, or some other treasure. thirteen young people there are in all, with pleasant faces and joyful hearts; and none of them, i am happy to say were of the perfect sort you read of in books. had they been, their aunt lucy, who was used to real children, would have entertained serious fears for their longevity. they all required a caution or a reprimand now and then, and none were so wise as not to make an occasional silly speech, or to do a heedless action. but they were good-tempered and obliging, as healthy children should always be, and were seldom cross unless they felt a twinge of toothache. how fast did their tongues run, that first hour! how much had all to tell, and how much to hear! and how happy did uncle john appear, as he sat in the centre of the group, with little amy on his lap, leaning her languid head against his broad and manly chest, while a cluster of the younger ones contended together for possession of the unoccupied knee. after the hearty, cheerful country supper, the whole party of visitors was escorted into a dark room adjoining the hall, while aunt lucy and cousin mary were engaged in certain preparations, well understood by the older guests, who were too discreet to allay the curiosity of the younger ones, who for the first time were allowed to share the hospitality of the grange at christmas. at last the folding-doors were thrown open, and the hall appeared to be in a blaze of light; colored lamps were suspended in festoons from the ceiling, showing how prettily the old portraits were adorned with evergreens. even the man in armor looked less grim, as if his temper was mollified by the ivy wreath wound around his helmet. but the chief object of interest was a stately tree at the end of the hall, from whose trunk proceeded thirteen branches, brilliantly illuminated with wax lights and pendant lamps of various hues; while gilded fruit, and baskets of flowers and confectionary, looked to the uninitiated as if the fairies themselves had been at work. many were the exclamations of delight, and intense the excitement; the old hall echoed with the shouts of the boys. uncle john, ever happy in the enjoyment of others, declared that he believed himself to be the youngest child there, and that he enjoyed the revels of christmas eve more than any of them. when the noise and rapture had somewhat subsided, cousin mary proposed that they should try some games, by way of variety. chess, checkers, backgammon, chinese puzzles, dominoes, jack-straws, etc., were mentioned, and each one of them was declared by different members of the group to be exceedingly entertaining; but charlie bolton said that "although he was neither grand turk nor perpetual dictator, he must put his veto upon all such games as being of an unsocial nature. it was all very well, when only two persons were together, to amuse themselves with such things; but for his part, he did hate to see people ride in sulkies, and play _solitaire_, when they could have such agreeable society as was there gathered together;" making, as he spoke, a dashing bow to the girls. "has not any one wit enough to think of a game at which we can all assist?" "do you know how to play 'consequences?'" said mary. "i never heard of it," replied cornelia; "how do you play it?" "with paper and pencils. here is my writing-desk full of paper, and my drawing-box with pencils ready sharpened, and you have nothing to do but all to write according to my directions, and doubling down the paper, to hand it to a neighbor, so that each time you have a different slip. when it is finished, i will read them aloud, supplying some words which will make sense--or, what is much better, arrant nonsense--of the whole. so begin by writing a term descriptive of a gentleman." "now write a gentleman's name--some one you know, or some distinguished person." "next, an adjective descriptive of a lady." "and now, a lady's name." "mention a place, and describe it." "now write down some date, or period of time when a thing might happen." "put a speech into the gentleman's mouth." "make the lady reply." "tell what the consequences were." "and what the world said of it." "and now allow me to enlighten the company. here is one specimen: "the gallant and accomplished nero met the beautiful, but rather coquettish mrs. wyndham at gretna green, that place once so famous for runaway couples and matrimonial blacksmiths, upon the th of july, a.d. he said, 'dearest madam, my tender heart will break if you refuse my hand;' but she replied, 'la, sir, don't talk such nonsense!' the consequences were, that their names were embalmed together in history; and the world said, 'it is exactly what i expected.'" "are you sure, mary," said mrs. wyndham, laughing, "that you are not taking any liberties with my name?" "here it is ma'am, you can see it yourself; but i think you escaped very well. here's another: "the refined and dandified jack the giant-killer met the modest, retiring cleopatra, queen of egypt, at the pyramids, (ah! some one peeped!) those wonderful monuments of ages long since passed away, on christmas day, in the year one. he said, 'i never entertained a very lofty opinion of your ladyship;' she replied, 'i perfectly agree with the noble sentiments you have just uttered: our hearts shall henceforward be united in the strictest friendship.' the consequences were that they parted, to meet no more; and the partial world remarked, 'what a pair of fools!'" "here is another: "the brave, daring, thoughtless king solomon met the elegant, fashionable queen semiramis upon the top of mont blanc, that lofty mountain, crowned with perpetual snow, on the th of february. he remarked, 'do you like the last style of bonnets, madam?' she answered, 'sir, do not press the matter. i am but young; you can speak to my papa.' the consequences were, that they took an ice-cream, and went up to the clouds in an air-balloon; and the amiable world said, 'who would have believed it?'" after reading all the papers, which caused much diversion, one of the party proposed playing "how do you like it." while tom green was waiting in another room, the remainder of the company fixed upon a word of double or treble meaning, which it was his duty to discover by the answers given to three questions he was to ask of all in succession. if unable to guess the word at the end of the third round, he would be crowned with the dunce-cap, and must recommence his questions: if, on the contrary, he hit upon the right word, the person whose answer led him to conjecture it must take his place. "anna," said tom, "how do you like it? now, don't tell me you like it very well, or not at all; give me something descriptive." "i like it with a large capital." "you do? then it may either be a word, a state, a pillar, or a man of business. cousin alice, how do you like it?" "i like it shady and covered with moss." "and you, sister ellen?" "with vaults secure and well filled." "what do you say, gertrude?" "i like it covered with violets." "how do you prefer it, charlie?" "with a good board of directors." "and you, amy?" "covered with strong and skilful rowers." "what is your preference, george?" "i like it high and picturesque." "how do you like it, john?" "with numerous branches." "it can't be a tree--how do you like it, mary?" "very green." "and you, harry?" "of red brick or white marble." "how contradictory! what have you to answer, cornelia?" "i like it steep and rocky." "and you, louis?" "i like it warranted not to break." "when do you like it, anna?" "when i have an account in it." "when do you like it, alice?" "when i am in the country, and feel weary." "and you, ellen?" "when i hold a check in my hand." "and you, gertrude?" "in the spring of the year, when i feel languid and sentimental." "when do you prefer it, charlie?" "when i want a loan, and can give good security." "and you, amy?" "when i am in a boat, and becalmed." "and you, george?" "when i am at sea, anxiously looking out for land." "what say you, john?" "when i am a merchant, engaged in large transactions." "when do you like it, mary?" "when my eye is weary of a flat, dull country." "and you, harry?" "when i am a stockholder." "so i should think, if it paid a good dividend. and if i were to ask you my third question, 'where will you put it!' one would place it under an umbrageous tree, another by the sea, a third by a river, and a fourth on a good business street, near the exchange. my good friends, i would be dull indeed if i did not guess it to be a bank; and you, sister ellen, may take my place; your well-filled vaults first gave me the clue." after amusing themselves a little longer, they adjourned to the sitting-room, as the tall, old-fashioned clock in the hall gave warning of the rapid flight of time; and mary, as was her custom, brought to her uncle the large family bible. when he opened the holy book, the very youngest and wildest of the children listened with reverence to the solemn words, and tried to join in the thanks which the good man offered up to heaven for bringing them together in health and peace, and granting them so much happiness. and then kisses and good-nights were exchanged, and the young group was scattered; but not without a parting charge to each from aunt lucy, "not to forget to hang up the stocking for kriss-kinkle, near the chimney place; and not on any account to lock their doors--for they might easily be taken sick in the night." chapter ii. christmas day.--rhymes.--cento.--genteel lady.--the fairy wood. sound were the slumbers that night at the grange, notwithstanding the determination of little amy to lie awake and catch kriss-kinkle for once; although as she said, "i know it _must_ be cousin mary." those happy days of innocence and unsuspecting faith have passed away, when children believed in a literal kriss-kinkle, clad in furs, and laden with presents for the good, and sticks of wood for the naughty little urchins who refuse to learn their a, b, c's, and to stand still while mamma combs out their hair. the "infantry" of america have quite given up their old-fashioned credulity, and as, according to the obsolete saying of the older philosophers, "nature abhors a vacuum," and there must be some children in the world, to keep the balance, the spirit-rappers have kindly stepped into their vacant places, and may be regarded as the true and only children on this side the atlantic. the frightful skepticism of the young ones with regard to kriss-kinkle has come to such a pass, that a little girl of three years old, who had been kept, as her relations thought, in all the verdure becoming to her tender years, upon her aunt telling her that she ought not to expect many gifts that season, as it was such stormy weather that poor kriss-kinkle could scarcely venture out, replied: "but, aunty! could he not take grandma's carriage--he would not get wet then!" if the merry old soul really came down the chimney at the grange, he shewed great discernment in the gifts he bestowed, for each found in the stocking some article that had been ardently desired. ellen, who was deeply interested in the study of italian, found a beautiful copy of dante's "divina commedia;" mary, who possessed a fine talent for drawing, and frequently sketched from nature, discovered that a complete set of artist's colors and brushes had fallen to her lot; george, who was devoted to skating, found a pair of skates, "real beauties," as he said, appended to his stocking; all plainly saw that their individual tastes and peculiarities had been consulted in a very gratifying manner. of course they did not neglect to express their pleasure and gratitude to their kind friends, requesting them to inform that very worthy old gentleman, mr. kriss-kinkle, of their delight at his selection. nor were uncle john and aunt lucy forgotten: their nephews and nieces had all provided some little gifts, as expressions of love. mrs. wyndham declared that she was quite set up in crochet bags and purses, for a year to come; and tastefully worked book-markers, with appropriate sentiments, were very plentiful. tom green made himself exceedingly agreeable to the whole party, by presenting to each some pretty little box, thimble-case, or other ingenious trifle, which he had made at his leisure with the aid of his turning-lathe; whereupon charlie bolton assumed an irresistibly ludicrous air of dejection, and asserted that he felt quite crushed by tom's superior gallantry. "really, a fellow is not much thought of now-a-days, unless he can do something in the pretty line. i must get a turning-lathe at once, or else learn to carve brooches out of marbles, and rings out of peach-stones, and baskets out of cherry and apricot stones. if i can't get up that much artistic talent, i might as well resign myself to complete insignificance all my life." cornelia wyndham highly approved of his intentions, and told him that when he had come to perfection in the fancy business, she hoped he would remember her devoted and perfectly disinterested friendship; her cousinly affection was of the warmest and truest quality, especially when there were any hopes of cherry-stone baskets. full of enjoyment as they were, none were too intent upon fun and frolic to neglect accompanying their kind relatives to the pretty little country church, for it was their uncle's habit to begin the day with religious exercises: he said it seemed to him ungrateful to spend it in unbroken jollity, and to forget entirely the original motive of its institution. it was a very pleasant custom, and very conducive to mutual attachment, for friends and relations to give and to receive presents: but this should be subordinate to the remembrance of god's great gift to the children of men, which was celebrated on that happy day. so the young people passed a unanimous vote that church-going was as regular a part of keeping christmas as presents or mince-pie, and gladly set off to walk through the frosty air to the ivy-covered church, shaded by ancient trees. it was situated on a hill, and was approached by numerous paths running across the fields; and as ellen gazed upon its spire, standing in relief against the deep blue sky, she thought of that beautiful line of wordsworth, "pointing its taper finger up to heaven!" the chime of bells, too, joyfully pealing out, appeared to be the voice of the church calling upon all who heard it, to return thanks to him who blesses the families of men; it seemed to say, "both young men and maidens, old men and children, let them praise the name of the lord." what a mistake it is, to think of religion only as a refuge from sorrow, and a solace for the disappointments of the world! it is that, truly, but it is also the sanctifier of joy: the happy young heart should be laid upon god's altar, as well as the stricken spirit, and the eye moistened with tears. that the services of the church had not a depressing effect upon the minds of any, was very evident from the heart-felt greetings and warm shakes of the hand which were exchanged by all, as they left the house of prayer. it was a very pleasant sight to behold young and old, rich and poor, joined together in one common feeling of brotherhood, under the genial influences of the season. "a merry christmas" seemed not only to spring from every tongue, but to sparkle in every eye. if i were to attempt to describe the varied pleasures of that day, which was declared by charlie bolton to be the most glorious one he had ever spent, i should be obliged to dip my pen, not in ink, but in a solution of rainbow, or dancing sun-beams, or in any thing else that is proved to be the most joyful thing in nature. at dinner-table, after being helped the second time to a slice of "splendid" turkey with oyster sauce, little louis green, the youngest of the party, occasioned a general burst of laughter by laying down his knife and fork, which certainly deserved a little rest if activity ever can earn it, and leaning back in his chair, saying with the greatest earnestness: "uncle, if i were asked to point out the very happiest time of the whole year, i would fix upon christmas day, at exactly this hour--the dinner hour--as the thing for me!" "o you gormandizer!" said his sister ellen, "you don't really think the dinner the best part of the day?" "indeed i do, though," replied louis; "and i rather guess a good many people are of the same opinion. and, sister ellen, if you were a boy, and just come home from boarding-school, where they always want you to eat potatoes, i think you'd value turkey and mince-pie as much as i do! hurra for christmas, i say!" there was some conversation at the dinner-table about the origin of the different modes of keeping christmas day in our country. mr. wyndham remarked, that probably the reason why it was so universally kept in philadelphia, was from the large mixture of the german element in the population of pennsylvania: perhaps the little swedish colony which penn found already settled on the ground when he came over, may have had some influence, as the nations in the middle and north of europe have always celebrated the day, making it a sort of festival of home, and fireside pleasures. he said that when he was a young man he had passed a winter in germany, and was spending some time in the house of a friend, in the month of december: being very intimate with all the family, he had been admitted into numerous little secrets, both by young and old. he had seen beforehand the drawings and the ornamental needle-work which were intended as a surprise to the parents, and were executed after they had retired to rest; and he had been allowed to hear the new songs and pieces of instrumental music, learnt by stealth during their absence from home; and had even been privileged to hear the little boy of eight, the pet of the family, recite the verses composed in honor of the joyful occasion, by his oldest sister. and the parents, also, had their own mysteries: for a fortnight before the eventful day, the blooming, comfortable mamma rode out regularly, and returned laden with bundles, which were immediately transferred to a certain large parlor, the windows of which were carefully bolted, the door locked, and the very key-hole stopped up, so that nothing was visible. the children were sent out of the way, and then there were raps at the door, and the carrying of heavy articles along the hall, into the mysterious chamber--blue beard's room of horrors was not more eagerly gazed at, than was this parlor, but its blank walls told no secrets. at length the long-expected day arrived; on christmas eve all were assembled in a dark room adjacent--you see i have taken a few hints from my german friends--and at last the doors being thrown open, the mystery was revealed. the room was ornamented with evergreens and colored lamps, very much in the style of our hall, and a large tree blazed with light and sparkled with candied fruits and gilded cornucopias; i made up my mind then, that if ever i had a house of my own, i would keep christmas eve in the same way. the little children stood a while, awe-struck by the grandeur of the spectacle: for i can tell you, young people, that the german children are kept in a state of innocence--what you would call _greenness_--that would amaze you. the good mother then came forward, and took them by the hand: "come in, carl; come in, hermann; fear nothing, little ida; come in and see if there is any thing here for you." encouraged by this invitation, all entered, and the room was found to be lined with tables, piled with articles both for use and pleasure; there was a separate table for every one in the house, including the servants, who in germany live many years in one family, and even for the baby. their guest also was not forgotten; i found upon my table a pair of slippers, and sundry other gifts, some of which i still keep with care, as a memorial of that very happy evening. "that must have been really charming! i think the mystery adds very much to the pleasure," said alice. "and, uncle, is not the custom of hanging up the stocking derived from germany?" "i think it is. in holland there is a little variation, for there the _shoe_ is placed at the door of the chamber, for adults as well as children enter into the sport. i heard an amusing story connected with this practice, when i was in holland; if you like, i will relate it; the event is said really to have happened." "do tell it, uncle!" said john wyndham. "i like true stories." "there was a poor, but very handsome and excellent young minister, a licentiate, i think they call it, when a young man is not yet settled in a church; to support himself until he was appointed to a congregation, he took the place of tutor in a rich burgomaster's family, where he fell in love with the pretty, amiable, and mischievous daughter. she fully reciprocated his feelings, and as her parents approved of the match, she gave the bashful young man all the encouragement she could: she felt very sure as to the nature of his sentiments towards her, but notwithstanding all she could do, the young man _would not propose_--as she rightly concluded, the thought of her superior wealth deterred him; and meantime the foolish fellow became pale and melancholy, as if he seriously meditated going into a decline. so the merry maiden thought, 'this will never do; i must take strong measures, or the poor soul will mope himself to death.' christmas eve came round, and the assembled family were joking about the presents they expected. 'put your slippers outside your door to-night, dominie,' said the father, calling him by the title commonly applied to clergymen in holland, and among the descendants of the dutch in the state of new york, 'i have no doubt your friend caterina has something to put in them.' 'oh, it is not worth while--no one cares for me, sir.' 'but, indeed, we do,' replied little caterina; 'i have something for you, but i am not at all sure you will condescend to accept it. 'have you indeed, miss caterina? i shall feel highly honored; i give you my word that whatever it is, i will accept it joyfully.' 'very well: only please to remember this, when you see what is in your slippers.' "the next morning, when the young dominie opened his door, full of eagerness to see what was in store for him, lo and behold! his slippers had vanished. 'i might have known that the light-hearted, mischievous maiden was only laughing at me--and well i deserve it--fool that i am to dream about one so much above me!' thus trying to scold himself into stoicism, the young man went over to the breakfast-table, where all were gathered together except caterina. 'a very merry christmas! but my dear dominie, how sober you look!' 'do i, indeed? that is very improper; but i've been thinking of going away--i had better do so--that makes me look rather sad, perhaps; i've spent so many happy hours among you all.' 'going away! oh, no, you are not to think of that; i cannot allow such a word. by the way, what have you found in your slippers?' 'to reprove my presumption, no doubt, my slippers have been spirited away in the night: it is not for a poor fellow like me to receive gifts from lovely young ladies.' as he spoke these words, the door opened, and caterina entered, bright as the morning, her face covered with smiles and blushes; she shuffled along in a strange way, and all eyes naturally fell upon her little feet, which were sailing about in the dominie's slippers! amid the general laughter, she walked up to the diffident youth, who could scarcely believe his eyes, and said with an air of irresistible drollery, by which she tried to cover her confusion: 'here is your christmas present, sir; do you hold to your promise of accepting it?' of course, the lady having broken the ice, the dominie could do no less than speak out, and, all being willing, the two were soon converted into one; a good church was procured for him by the influence of the burgomaster, and they lived as happily as possible all their days." "she was a determined damsel!" cried cornelia; "i think she had brass enough to set up a foundry." "probably it was leap-year, cornelia," replied ellen; "you know it is then the ladies' _privilege_--great privilege, forsooth!--to pay attention to the lords of the creation." "i hope, when women take advantage of their prescriptive rights, they will wear the bloomer costume, and make themselves look as little like the rest of their sex as possible!" said mary. "come, girls," cried charlie bolton, "you are too hard on that frank little caterina; i approve of such conduct entirely, and some ten years hence, when i am ready to be appropriated, i shall certainly leave my slippers outside my door as a hint to whomsoever it may concern. it would save us men a great deal of trouble, if all girls were as sensible as caterina." "us men, indeed! how long since?" said cornelia. "ever since i got out of frocks and into trowsers," replied charlie, laughing good-naturedly. he and cornelia were always sparring, but never quarrelled. in the evening they played at various games; among others, at writing rhymes. each had a slip of paper, and would write a line, then double it down, and hand it to the next, telling the last word; the second person then added a line rhyming with the first, the third started a fresh rhyme, and so it went on. when read, it of course made the greatest farrago of nonsense imaginable. ellen then proposed "cento," a spanish or italian game, which requires great readiness of memory, and a large acquaintance with poetry. one person quotes a well-known line, the next another that rhymes with it, and so on, making some sort of connection whenever it can be done; but after trying it, and finding that only three or four of the eldest could think of appropriate passages, they voted cento _a bore_, cornelia remarking that there was great stupidity somewhere; of course they could not think it was in themselves, and therefore it must be in the game. mary said that there was another game requiring a good memory, but the advantage of it was, that the more you forgot the more merriment you made; if you were not witty yourself, you were the cause of wit in others. it was called _genteel lady_, and was played by one person politely bowing to his neighbor, and reciting a certain formula, which must be repeated, with an addition, by the next, and so round the circle; whenever the least mistake or omission was made, the person had to drop the title of genteel lady, or genteel gentleman, and putting a horn of twisted paper in the hair or button-hole, could now glory in the dignity of being a one-horned lady or gentleman. very soon horns become so plenty that few can claim any gentility; as the description proceeds, and becomes more complicated, it is perfectly laughable, and the whole party look ludicrous enough. "here is a whole bundle of lamp-lighters," said cornelia; "let us begin the game, i think it must be comical." mary bowed to tom green, and commenced. "good evening, genteel gentleman, ever genteel, i, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that genteel lady, ever genteel, to tell you that she owns a little dog with hair on its back." tom bowed to ellen: "good evening, genteel lady, ever genteel, i, a genteel gentleman, ever genteel, come from that genteel lady, ever genteel (bowing to mary), to tell you that she owns a little dog with hair on its back, and a red tongue in its mouth." ellen took up the play: "good evening, genteel gentleman, ever genteel, i, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that genteel gentleman, ever genteel, to tell you that he owns a little dog with hair on its back, a red tongue in its mouth, and two ears on its head." it was now charlie bolton's turn: "good evening, genteel lady, ever genteel, i, a genteel gentleman, _ever_ genteel, come from that genteel lady, ever genteel, to say that she owns a little dog with ears on its back, a tongue in its head, hair in its mouth, and a bone between its teeth." "charlie! charlie! three horns!" "all honorable horns! hurra! i'm the only one with horns!" "you'll soon have companions in misfortune," said mary, laughing. "good morning, genteel lady, ever genteel," said gertrude, bowing to alice, "i, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that three-horned gentleman, ever three-horned, to say that he owns a little dog with hair on its back, a red tongue in its mouth, two ears on its head, a bone between its teeth, and a tail a yard long." "good morning, she said! that's one horn!" cried the other children. "good evening, genteel gentleman, ever genteel," said alice, reverently bowing to john wyndham, "i, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that one-horned lady, ever one-horned, to say that she owns a little dog with hair on its back, a red tongue in its mouth, a bone between its teeth, a fell a yard long, and three legs and a half." "you left out two ears on its head! a horn!" "i'm resigned," said alice, "gentility seems to be at a discount." so the game went on, becoming every moment more difficult and more ludicrous--as charlie called it, more _trippy_--and by the time it went round the second time, none escaped the horns. any thing will do for the genteel lady to own, and it makes it more agreeable to vary it each time it is played: for instance, an eagle with a golden beak, silver claws, diamond eyes, ostrich feathers, bird-of-paradise tail, a crown on its head, a diamond ring on its thumb, a gold chain round its neck, a pocket-handkerchief in its hand, and any other nonsense you can string together. a lady's étagère or what-not would be a good medium for collecting together absurdities--mont blanc at the top, a gridiron below, a gold thimble at the side, the poets in a corner, a breakfast set on one shelf, a card-case above, a smelling-bottle at the side, a work-box, a writing-desk, a piece of coral, etc. a _genteel_ lady's description of her mansion--certainly an extraordinary one--would be suitable; a modern-built house, with a _porto-ricco_ in front, and a _pizarro_ in the rear, a summer-house _contagious_, and _turpentine_ walks, etc. being now weary of games, amy proposed that they should vary their pleasures by a tale, which gained the general approval; and ellen green was commissioned to relate it. ever ready to oblige, she told them she would, if they chose a subject. "what sort of a story will you have?" "an indian story!" exclaimed the younger boys. "do tell us about some great historical character--washington, or king alfred, or napoleon bonaparte, or some other hero!" cried john wyndham. "i go in for a very frightful ghost-story, that will make our hair stand on end, and make the girls afraid to go to bed!" said his brother george. "tell us a romantic narrative about a knight going to the crusades, and his fair lady following him in the disguise of a page!" said alice bolton. "that's exactly like you!" cried her brother charlie; "now, i say give us some exciting adventures by sea or by land; a real fish-story, or escape from a lion or tiger, or a tale of a bear, or something of that sort." "poor cousin ellen! how can she please you all?" said mary. "as amy first proposed it, let us leave it to her to choose the kind of story she prefers, and so settle the difficulty." "agreed! agreed! choose, amy!" "as for me, i always like a real fairy-tale," said amy, her eyes sparkling with pleasure as she saw with what good nature all had left the choice to her. "then you shall have it; and i don't doubt that aunt lucy or cousin mary will contrive to please all in turn, another day." "most especially, i hope they will not forget to give charlie that brush with the _bear's tail_ that he wants so much!" said cornelia, with a saucy glance of her eye. "attention, miss cornelia! or you will prove that you deserve it yourself. don't you see that ellen is ready to begin?" the fairy wood. upon the banks of the rhine there stand the ruins of an ancient castle, which still attracts the attention of the passer-by, from its gigantic remains, and the exceeding beauty of its situation. and if now, when its glory has departed, the traveller is irresistibly impelled to ask its name, how imposing must it have been when its dark shadow was thrown unbroken upon the smooth waters below, and troops of cavaliers and armed retainers rode over its drawbridge, and mounted its battlements. here, in the olden time, dwelt the noble baron sigismund; and here, nothing daunted by the gloomy grandeur of the fortress, his little son rudolph romped and frolicked the live-long day. a charming fellow he was, with eyes of heavenly blue, and a complexion of pure milk and roses; a true boy, full of activity and vivacity, and with not a slight touch of mischief in his composition. and yet he was such an affectionate and good-hearted little soul, that his arms would be about your neck in a moment, if he thought you were offended by his conduct; and so generous, that he would take the cake from his own lips to give it to the beggar--no trifling stretch of charity in a boy. is it wonderful, that rudolph was the idol of his parents, the favorite of his playmates, and the cherished darling of the whole castle? his merry spirit and winning ways completely gained the hearts of the servants and retainers, and many voices in the adjacent cottages were loud in the praise of the beautiful, golden-haired boy. what a proud man was fritz, the old seneschal, when he taught him to manage the horse, to couch the lance, and draw the bow! and when, for the first time, the young heir followed him to the chase, who so happy as he? and rudolph reciprocated his affection; next to papa and dear mamma, sweet little black-eyed cousin bertha, and the ugly, shaggy mastiff to which he was devoted, old fritz came in for his warmest love. and some people were malicious enough to say that there was a strong resemblance between these last two favorites, both in countenance and character; certain it is, that both bruno and fritz were faithful, every ready to contribute to his amusement, and although rough with other people, gentle enough with their young master. one day, in the absence of his father, he set out to ride, with fritz for his only attendant. it was a splendid afternoon; the sky was of that pure exquisite blue you sometimes see, rendered deeper by a pile of snowy clouds in the west; the birds were silent, as if unwilling to disturb the holy calm of nature; not a leaf stirred, save here and there a quivering aspen, emblem of a restless, discontented mind. rudolph was in excellent spirits, and saladin, his good arab steed, flew like the wind; old fritz tried to restrain his ardor, but in vain; the impetuous boy kept far ahead. they were soon some miles from home, and rudolph saw before him a point where the road branched off in several directions, one of them leading back again to the castle, another taking a circuit of some distance, and a third, a narrow, unfrequented path, entering into a dark forest. into this wood the boy had never been allowed to enter, from the evil name it had acquired in the traditions of the peasantry. some said that robbers haunted its deep recesses, for travellers had entered it, notwithstanding all the entreaties of those who would have detained them, but had never been seen again; in fact, none had ever been known to return, who had been fool-hardy enough to enter into that snare. others argued that they had been devoured by the wild beasts, whose savage roar might sometimes be heard at night; or that, losing their way, they had perished with hunger. but the older and wiser shook their heads at these suggestions, insinuating that skepticism on such awful subjects might bring down vengeance upon the unbelieving; and intimated, more by look and by gesture than by word, that the whole forest was enchanted ground, and that powers more than mortal claimed it as their own. all agreed that the fairy wood--so it was called--was a dangerous place, and few, indeed, would venture into its shady depths. rudolph's curiosity had been excited in the most vivid manner by what he had heard concerning the mysteries of the forest, and he had long determined to seize the first opportunity of gratifying it. old fritz would not have consented to his entering it, if he had given him his weight in gold, but the worthy seneschal was now out of sight, and here was a glorious opportunity for the boy--he dashed into the wood, and urging saladin onward, was soon involved in the intricacies of the forest. on went the fearless boy, determined to explore, and doubting nothing, although the dark, gloomy shades might well have appalled an older person, and the numerous, faintly defined paths would certainly have made an experienced one hesitate. on he went, deeper and deeper into the wood, until he was suddenly startled by low, prolonged, growling thunder. he tried to retrace his steps, but was only more entangled in the maze: the sky had become black as midnight, the rain fell in torrents, the lightnings flashed fearfully, and all nature appeared convulsed. rudolph had never before witnessed such a storm, and brave boy as he was, his heart quaked with terror--he felt how powerless a human being is, when, unsheltered, he is brought face to face with the elements, lashed up to fury. he now realized, in addition, that he had lost his way, and feared that in his efforts to extricate himself, he might penetrate still deeper into the wood; so he determined to throw the reins upon his horse's head, and trust to his instinct, as he had often heard that travellers had done successfully, when they had wandered out of their road. he accordingly did so, and speaking cheerily to saladin, allowed him to choose his own path: to his surprise his beautiful arab left the track, and set off on what he concluded to be a short cut out of the forest. after about an hour, however, poor little rudolph began to doubt the instinct of horses, for the aspect of every thing around him became wilder every moment; but, happily, the rain had ceased falling, and as far as he could judge from the occasional glimpse he got of the sky, it had cleared up. on went saladin, and did not stop until they entered an open glade; when, as if his task were quite accomplished, he came to a dead halt. rudolph alighted, and looked about him: all was so still and beautiful, that it had the effect of calming the agitation of his spirits, and filling his mind with an indescribable awe,--it looked pure and holy, as if the foot of man had never trod there, from the foundation of the world. the setting sun, at this moment, pierced through the clouds, tinting them with purple, crimson, and gold, and revealing the full beauty of the scene. rudolph found himself in a circular opening, around which lofty trees, overgrown with moss and lichen, seemed planted as a wall of defence. as he approached, seeking to leave the spot, they tossed their long arms as if warning him away, and the thick darkness behind appeared to become denser, and to frown him back. a superstitious fear crept into his heart, and he turned his eyes to the sweet glade rejoicing in the sunlight, where all looked smiling and inviting. in the centre, upon a gentle mound covered with a carpet of the softest, richest green, there towered a majestic oak, which had looked upward to the sky for centuries, while generation after generation of men had entered the world, had laughed and wept, grown old and died. it showed no signs of the decrepitude of age, and raised up its head proudly like the monarch of the forest; but a deep rent in its heart showed that decay was at work, and that the lofty tree would, one day, he laid low in the dust. led by an irresistible impulse, rudolph ascended the mound, and entered the little chamber in the oak. the boy was exhausted by fatigue and excitement, and, insensibly, his eyes closed, and his weary frame was wrapt in slumber. and now a strange thing occurred. whether he dreamed, or whether he waked, he scarcely knew; but delicious music stole through his soul, and he opened his eyes. the little woodland glen was steeped in soft moonlight; and, if it looked wonderful and beautiful when the sun shone upon it, how much more so now, when the very light was mysterious, and suggestive of something beyond! around the mound there doated--for that word only can express their motion--like bright and fleecy clouds, a band of lovely beings, resembling none he had ever seen before. as he gazed upon them, he thought not of creatures of earthly mould, but of the most rapturous and fleeting sights and sounds of nature;--of the rainbow, spanning the sky after a storm; of the dashing cataract, descending in mist from stupendous heights; of the nightingale, singing in her hidden nest; of harmless sheet-lightning, suddenly revealing hills, domes, and castles in the clouds, then as suddenly dispelling the illusion. as he looked more closely, he found that, as with linked hands they glided round, their gossamer wings moving through the air waked up a melody like that of the eolian harp; while a few, standing apart, made silvery music by shaking instruments, which looked like spikes of bell-shaped flowers, and deeper tones were evolved from larger, single bells, struck with rays of light. as the bells swung to the breeze, and the cadence swelled and rose, a delicious fragrance of wild-flowers filled the air, and from the depths of the forest all animated creatures came forth to gaze upon the spectacle. the glow-worm crept there, but his tiny lamp was dimmed by brighter fairy eyes; the noisy cricket and the songsters of the grove hushed their notes, to listen to the harmony. the wolf and the bear drew near together, but laid aside their fierceness; the deer and the hare came forward fearlessly, under the influence of the potent spell. suddenly, from a hollow in the oak, an owl with glaring eyes flew down: the music and the dance were hushed, and all listened to his voice. to his surprise, rudolph found that he could understand the language of all animals, which had formerly seemed to him mere unmeaning sounds. "bright fairy queen, shall mortal dare on beauty gaze beyond compare; shall one of earth unpunish'd see the mazes of your revelry? that ancient oak, by your donation, for years has been my habitation; and now a child usurps my right, sleeping within its heart to-night; nor that alone, but dares to view the mysteries of nature too. and shall he go, unscath'd, away? as privy counsellor, i say nay! else man will learn our secrets dread. and higher raise his haughty head: all nature soon would subject be, nor place be left us, on land or sea. e'en now, prophetic, i see the day when steam exerts resistless sway-- and iron monsters, with breath of flame, shall blot from earth the fairy name. then to the beasts that throng the wild, dread queen, give up the intruding child!" at this address, to which the wolves howled a dismal chorus of assent, all eyes were turned upon the chamber in the ancient oak, in which rudolph sat, his heart quaking with terror at the thought of the fate before him. but a sweet voice, clear and piercing, spoke his name, and commanded him to descend, fearing nothing if his conscience was pure, and if he had not obtruded through vain curiosity upon the revels of the queen of fairy land. rudolph obeyed. the queen was standing, with the ladies of her court ranged on either side. they all were beautiful, but she was like the brightness of the morning and the freshness of flowers. dazzling loveliness distinguished her, and a dignity to which all paid obeisance. upon her brow sparkled the evening star, her only diadem. she gazed mildly, yet searchingly, upon the boy, as if she read his very thoughts; and then she spoke: "'tis true, wise counsellor, that according to our laws of fairy realm, the child should die; and yet my heart yearns to the innocent, blue-eyed boy. does no one have compassion upon him? have none a plea to offer for his pardon? i solemnly declare that he shall be saved, were my very crown and life endangered, if but one act of kindness and mercy shown by him to weaker creatures, can be proved. for to the kind and merciful, mercy should ever be shown; this law stands higher than any judicial enactment." as she spoke these words, a dove with gentle eyes and downy breast flew to her feet, and thus timidly offered her prayer: "i plead for mercy, gracious queen, i pray you to forgive! and if my voice were silent now, i were not fit to live. one day, when absent from my nest, a falcon, fierce and strong, seized me, all helpless to resist-- soon would have ceased my song. just then, young rudolph, brave and fair, perceived my urgent need; he risk'd his life in saving mine-- and shall that kind heart bleed?" "it shall not: he is saved; and you, gentle dove, ever wear this collar round your neck as a token of my approbation; it shall descend in your family to the latest generations." the queen then touched rudolph with her golden wand; an electric thrill passed through his frame, and he fell down senseless to the ground. when he awoke, he found himself lying upon a couch of purple and gold, in a superb crystal hall, whose pillars, sparkling with gems, rose upward to a lofty transparent dome of blue, through which the sun was shining brilliantly. over him bent the fairy queen, radiant in beauty, and eying him with indescribable tenderness. at last she spoke, kindly caressing him: "my son, you are now in my dwelling, where no harm shall befall you; fear nothing. here you shall live forever, in splendor and happiness; your every wish shall be gratified; no more scorching suns, no more dark and gloomy days for you--all shall be joy, unvaried pleasure, eternal youth and health. one solitary restriction i must lay upon you, but that is positive; on no account shed a tear, for on that day when you weep, you must return to earth--even my power could not keep you here. tears must never sully the palace of the fairy queen. but why should you weep? i myself will take care of you, teach you, be a mother to you: when you feel a desire, mention it to me, and it is already accomplished." with ardent gratitude and passionate love and admiration, rudolph embraced the beautiful queen, and said, "is this really true? and is this splendid place to be my own home?" "it really is; i have adopted you for my son. it is my intention to educate you myself." "how very good of you! how i love you! and my papa and mamma, and dear little bertha, can they live here too? and may bruno, and saladin, and old fritz come too?" "oh no, little rudolph, you must not talk about those other people; they belong to the earth--let them stay there. you must forget about that old home of yours, for all that has passed away; your home is with me, in fairy land. it is much more beautiful here; there is nothing on earth that can compare with it. i will show you such splendid things! i will teach you how to paint the flowers, and to make diamonds, and emeralds, and pearls. you shall see me mix the rainbow, and scatter the dew upon the flowers at night. i have a thousand pretty things i want to teach you: do you not wish to learn them?" "oh, very much indeed! i should like to do such things; i love dearly to work: mamma often lets me water her flowers with a little watering-pot; is that the way you scatter the dew?" "child, child! how ignorant he is! but under my tuition he will soon learn to understand the mysteries of nature. on earth, children are so mismanaged--no wonder they become the sort of men they do. my rudolph shall be different; he shall hear no silly nursery tales, shall waste no time in learning exploded nonsense, but shall early become acquainted with _things_, and shall learn to value science. i quite long to begin! it is a grand experiment; the work of education is a noble one. and when he is a man, and has become under my teaching a perfect specimen of what a man should be, what then? shall i let him return to earth? it is time enough yet to think of that." "may i go now, and play, pretty lady? you are not talking to me." "true, i forgot myself; come with me, rudolph, and i will show you through my palace and pleasure-grounds: recollect that you are now my son." what words can describe the sights of beauty that awaited him? all spectacles that could enchant the eye, all melodies that could ravish the ear, were collected together, in infinite variety. nothing that was exquisite upon earth was unrepresented; but the grossness and the imperfection which will cleave to every thing earthly, was left out. it was the very palace of delights. and nothing faded here--the flowers were ever-blooming, and if picked, were instantly replaced by fairer blossoms. delicious fruit, ever ripe, but never decaying, hung from the boughs; streams of milk, wine, sherbet, and other delicious drinks, trickled from the rocks into marble basins, and gold cups were suspended near, to invite the thirsty to partake; while pure, sparkling water rose high into the air, as if ambitious to greet the kindred clouds, and then fell into large receptacles, fashioned out of one pearl, emerald, or ruby. the pleasure-grounds were separated from the gross outer world by a thick and lofty wall of evergreens, impervious to mortals, which forbade both ingress and egress: at least, rudolph's eyes could see no mode of exit. but what could be wished for beyond? it was a paradise! rudolph was allowed to roam undisturbed through the splendid saloons, vast halls, and pillared galleries of the palace, where at every step he saw some new subject of wonder. no treasure-house of princes could for one moment compare with the wealth and grandeur here exhibited, and the fairy queen informed him that all should be his, when by knowledge he had earned a title to it--it should be the reward of his application to the noble studies to which she wished to introduce him. "i would do a good deal to get all these beautiful things: i hope the lessons are not very hard, for i never did like to study. i love play a great deal better." "but play is only meant for babies and kittens, rudolph: it is unworthy of a being who can think. i know you have great talents, and i am the one to develop them. i mean to teach you mineralogy and chemistry, natural philosophy and history, astronomy and geology, botany and geometry. you shall be wise, and shall learn to look beyond the surface of things into their natures and constituent parts. you shall know _why_ every thing was made just as it is, and shall understand the exact proportions of all things to each other, and to the universe, so that the whole system goes on in perfect and beautiful harmony. you shall learn the balancings of the clouds, and the potent spell which keeps the sun in its place, and makes the moon circle round the world. you shall go with me into the dark caverns of the earth, and see how rocks and metals are made in nature's forging shop. you shall witness the operation of the subterranean forces which have altered the whole aspect of this planet, and thrown up the lofty mountains, and tossed out from the treasury below the varied wealth it held, making the world both beautiful and rich. and i will show you ancient creatures, more huge than whales, which once frolicked on the earth, before man was made: oh, i have a thousand wonders to point out to you, and a great deal to teach." "thank you; you are very good. but indeed it sounds very hard, and i don't like such things at all. i'd much rather play ball." "silly child!" thought the fairy queen, "he has been too long perverted by the trifling ways of man: i should have taken him younger. i see that i cannot at once indoctrinate him into the arcana of nature; i must gradually lead him on, as if in play. good! a bright idea! that must be the right way to educate frivolous, frolicksome childhood. science in sport! excellent. yes, i'll teach him the vocabularies in rhyme, and set them to lively music--that will do; he'll like it nearly as well as if it were nonsense. i'll lead him on to the knowledge of principles, by means of beautiful experiments: he'll think i am amusing him, when i am gravely in earnest in the work of instruction. i will set rewards before him, to impel him onward: i will excite his curiosity, and make it a favor to gratify it; and then the boy will swallow knowledge as if it were cake." "come with me, rudolph, i have something pretty to show you." "that i will: i love to see pretty things, dear lady." "call me mamma, rudolph: you are now my son." "indeed i cannot: nobody is mamma but my own dear mamma who loves me so--oh, i do _so_ wish i could see her!" "hush, child, that's silly. now keep very quiet in this dark room, and you'll see something. what is this i hold in my hand?" "a great glass jar, like one of mamma's preserve jars, only much larger." "do you see any thing in it?" "yes, ma'am, ever so much iron wire twisted round and round." "is there any thing else in the jar?" "nothing at all." "nothing you can see, but there is a kind of gas we call oxygen, which will burn when i put in a lighted piece of stick, very carefully. look!" "oh, beautiful, beautiful! how the wire burns! only look at the sparks! that is very pretty indeed, ma'am. now it has all burnt out--what a pity!" "now, rudolph, i want to tell you about it. you must know that the air we breathe is made up of this oxygen, of nitrogen, a very little carbonic acid gas, and a small quantity of water. if the oxygen was taken out of the air, you could not live for one moment: i'll show you. you see this jar? it is full of nitrogen--of air with the oxygen taken out." "but what are you putting into it? a little mouse, i declare!" "yes: but you see it dies instantly; it cannot live because there is no oxygen in the air." "poor little mouse, how i wish you had not killed it! it is a shame! if _i_ did such a cruel thing, my mamma would punish me." "don't talk so, child! it's silly. the mouse died without any pain, and if one principle of science is fixed in your head, it is well worth the sacrifice of its insignificant life. there will be less cheese eaten in the world--that's all. now, do you understand about oxygen and nitrogen, which chiefly make up the atmospheric air?" "i know that oxygen made the wire burn beautifully, and i know that horrid nitrogen killed the poor little mouse; but i don't half believe that they are in the air i breathe. i like to see pretty experiments, but i do hate explanations. now will you let me fly a kite?" "yes; come out into the open air--remember it is composed of oxygen and nitrogen--and i'll make you a kite." so saying, she led him into the gardens, and waving her wand over a piece of birch bark, behold three splendid kites! the larger one resembled an eagle, and as it mounted into the air, and its light wings flapped in the wind, it seemed about to pounce upon the two smaller kites, which were in shape like pigeons. rudolph was enchanted, and clapped his hands with glee. after allowing him to enjoy the novelty for some time, the fairy said to him, "to-morrow i will show you another kite, more wonderful than these. i will make it so, that it will draw down the electricity from the sky. have you ever rubbed a cat's fur the wrong way, in the dark?" "oh, that i have! it's great fun. there's our black cat, at home, i have often done it to her, and i can see the sparks in cold weather." "well, that is electricity, and there is electricity in every thing, only some objects have more than others. when you see the sparks, it is the electricity leaving a thing which is overcharged with it, for another which has less, to keep up a balance. the lightning is nothing but electricity, and to-morrow i'll make a storm, to show you how to draw down this subtle element from the clouds." "oh, don't trouble yourself! i like this kind of kite well enough: if i have to learn about that old electricity, i'd rather give up playing kite." "rudolph, would you like to play at soap-bubbles?" "that i would! how i wish bertha was here--wouldn't she clap her hands and jump, as the large bubbles fly up into the air!" "i do not wish you to think about little bertha. here are your basin of soapsuds and your golden pipe; now blow away, my boy!" "oh, how very pretty! do you see that big fellow, how he shines in the sun, and shows all the colors of the rainbow? isn't it fine?" "that is the very thing i want to tell you about. the sun, shining upon vapor and falling water, makes all these beautiful colors. that is the way i mix the rainbow. the science which teaches about the rays of light, their reflection and refraction, and the coloring they give to different objects, is called optics: it is an interesting study, and i wish you to be a proficient in it." "optics, is it? that seems to me very different from blowing soap-bubbles. i do hate to be cheated into learning big words, and understanding things, when i am playing." "the child has no brains for science, i fear!" thought the fairy. "i almost repent my bargain! however, i will not be discouraged quite yet, perhaps the proper chord has not been struck." accordingly, she invented for him various pretty toys, since then copied by men: the kaleidoscope, with its infinite variety of shifting figures; the orrery; the prism; the burning-glass; the microscope and the telescope; and the magic lantern, with its vast variety of entertainment. another magic spell she put into operation, by which, with the aid of an instrument in a little square box, the sun was compelled to paint landscapes and portraits, so true to life that they seemed only to lack motion. rudolph was very happy, playing with these beautiful and ingenious toys: he thought them more entertaining than marbles, or battledore and shuttle-cock. but when the _rationale_ came to be explained, his preceptress found her labor was all lost--there was no mistaking the fact that the child had an invincible dislike to science. "i believe i see my mistake," thought the unconquerable fairy. "i began at the wrong end. children _feel_ before they _think_. i must elevate his fancy, and train his imagination by communion with forms of beauty. i see that he cannot yet penetrate into the reason of things around him; but he can feel the power of the external, and when his nature is sufficiently exalted and matured, then he will of his own accord seek knowledge. yes, sentiment comes first, and reflection will follow in its train." accordingly, the fairy queen commenced his poetical training, and for some time she flattered herself that it advanced charmingly. as the attraction of novelty had worn off from her extensive pleasure-grounds, she caused the landscape daily to change, so that all the beauties, scattered over the wide earth, were in succession placed before him. at one time, the lofty alps rose to the sky, filling his soul with the sense of the sublime; and the chamois, with fleet foot, climbed their snowy pinnacles; while the deep, frowning precipices and the dark valleys gave him a sensation of terror, not unmingled with pleasure. suddenly the scene would change, and he stood upon an island of the pacific, a little emerald gem of the ocean. around the coral reefs the waves lashed themselves into fury, and the white surf flew upward; but one little opening admitted the water gently into a quiet bay, where the deep blue rivalled that of the sky, and the water-birds swam in peace. the cocoa-nut, the plantain, and the banana spread their broad leaves to the sun, and flowers of brilliant hues and exquisite fragrance enlivened the landscape. behind, there uprose tall cliffs covered with the richest foliage, and cascades, like silver threads, dashed downward to the sea. again the spectacle changed, and vesuvius appeared in flames, reddening the sky, and paling the moon; floods of lava rolled down, and rocks and ashes were tossed aloft. it seemed as if evil spirits were sporting beneath, and the mountain shook in agony. in the distance, peacefully slept the city of naples, and that broad and beautiful bay, the admiration of the world. these objects, however, did not last. rudolph soon lingered among sweet-scented orange groves, and plucked the golden fruit by the light of the moon, and rejoiced in perfect beauty; or wandered off into a magnolia forest, where the huge white flowers shone forth among the dark glistening leaves, and the air was heavy with fragrance. or he paddled his small canoe among the waters of the amazon, and saw those magnificent water-lilies, on one of whose round green leaves, with up-turned edges, he could float with perfect safety; while the brilliant tropical birds flew around, and monkeys climbed the tall trees, which were festooned with vines of luxuriant growth. again did the scene vary--and niagara thundered down its cliffs, filling his heart with delighted awe; resistless and changeless, rolled it then, when the deer wandered undisturbed upon its shores, as now, when thousands of visitors marvel at its grandeur, and feel the infinitude of nature and the insignificance of man. one day the rhine was presented to his view--its vine-clad hills, its frowning castles, its romantic scenery, and the happy peasants coming from the vintage, with songs of rejoicing. but this struck a chord untouched before. it brought up home and homely pleasures with a force and vividness that made the boy, in the midst of all sensual delights, feel a sudden sickness of the heart, a longing for the fireside, and for the every-day occupations from which he had been snatched. he thought of his father and mother, so kind and good; of merry little bertha, ever so pleased to frolic with him--and he almost felt her chubby arm around his neck; he remembered old fritz, and his rides upon saladin, with his arched neck and flowing mane. he thought of the ancient hall, in which he had played such mad pranks with bruno--even the black cat came in for a portion of his regret. and never, never more was he to behold these objects of his love! so feels the swiss, when in a foreign land, when breathing the balmy air of italy, or wandering amid the gayeties of paris, he hears the ranz des vaches; the simple notes recall the alpine home, the mother and the friends: he sickens and dies. rudolph's sad countenance soon attracted the notice of his kind protectress, who eagerly asked what she could do to promote his happiness. he told his trouble, and especially dwelt upon his loneliness; he longed to see his papa and mamma, and little bertha; and he wanted companions of his own age--human children, with whom he could laugh and play, whom he could toss in the snow in winter, and with whom he could rove the fields in summer, picking the flowers and chasing the butterflies. the fairy queen shook her head: "you ask an impossibility, rudolph; my very existence was endangered by bringing you here, and how can i convey other mortals to the crystal palace, the inner temple of nature? it cannot be--however, now i think of a plan; yes, to-morrow you shall have your wish, only you must smile and be happy once more, rudolph." on the morrow, with the early dawn, a troop of merry, rosy children awaited his waking: how soon they were friends! children, and child-like hearts, are not long in knowing each other. they were all pretty, but different, both in appearance and disposition; they were crowned with flowers and green leaves, of various sorts. "what funny names you have!" said rudolph, as they introduced themselves. "yes; but we did not name ourselves," they replied; "it is not our fault if we have hard names--you'll soon learn them." and so he did: there was cochlearia, a sharp-witted girl, who made rather biting speeches occasionally; there was daucus, a red-headed youngster, and raphanus, a pretty child of brilliant complexion, crowned with violet-colored flowers; there was brassica, and zea, and maranta, and capsicum, a fiery fellow, and nasturtium, crowned with bright orange-flowers, and a great many others. rudolph liked most of them very much, but his especial favorites were little solanum and farinacea, brother and sister, both crowned with blue flowers. he thought they were so good, he could never get tired of them; perhaps brassica and zea were sweeter, and raphanus was more piquant, but these two friends of his could never cloy his taste; he should always love them. as for cochlearia, he could not abide her: she was so pert. several times she came near disturbing the harmony of the little band by her speeches: she reproached daucus with his carroty head, and told capsicum that his temper was too hot, and called nasturtium only a weedy fellow, after all. hereupon, solanum, who was a very amiable soul, told her she was enough to bring tears into anybody's eyes; and at that, she turned round, and informed him that he was such a mealy-mouthed fellow, he was no judge at all. at last rudolph was obliged to tell her that he had never known a child whose society he relished so little, and that he would be compelled to complain of her, unless she went away; accordingly she did so, and then they enjoyed uninterrupted peace. how happy was that day! how varied the amusements! what joyful shouts! what heart-felt laughter! rudolph, long debarred from the company of other children, was almost out of his wits with excitement. but the sun now approached the west, and with one accord they hastened away, notwithstanding all his entreaties. "why must they go? they could sleep with him; there was plenty of room in the palace; they should not leave." "they would return to-morrow, but now they must go; before the sun set--good-by, good-by." "you shall _not_ go," cried rudolph, seizing hold of solanum and farinacea, who struggled hard to evade him, while their companions swiftly passed them, and vanished through a little postern gate he had never seen before, into the forest beyond. "why should you want to go? do you not love me?" said rudolph, as the two struggled yet more earnestly to escape his grasp. "i assure you we _have_ hearts, but we cannot now stay," was all they could utter, for at that moment the sun sank below the horizon, and the beautiful children vanished from his sight: in their place, there fell to the ground--two potatoes! scarcely believing his eyes, he quickly opened the little gate, calling to his friends to return; but no voice replied, and no children were to be seen. instead, scattered about upon the ground, were radishes, carrots, turnips, parsneps, cabbages--all that remained of his playmates. the disappointed child burst into a fit of passionate weeping. was all deception, illusion? was there nothing real, naught to satisfy the heart? was he ever to be alone, consumed by vain longings for affection he was destined never to receive? what did _he_ care for all that beauty and grandeur--one heart-given human kiss was worth it all. the child was still sobbing bitterly when the fairy queen drew near. her starry crown was dim, like the evening star seen through a mist; the sparkle had gone out of her eye and her face. she was sad, for she knew that she must lose her little protégé; she was vexed, for she had been completely baffled. "and cannot i make you happy?" she said. "is all the power, and the grandeur, and the wisdom, and the beauty you see in fairy land, insufficient to satisfy that foolish heart of yours? silly boy! he longs for human love. go then--even if i _could_ keep you, i think i scarcely would; i can teach you nothing." "and may i really go? go to my own dear, sweet mamma? oh, how happy i am!" "you little ungrateful wretch! is that all the thanks i get for the pains i have taken to make a man of you?" "of course you are very good: but indeed i always told you i wanted to remain a little boy." "out of my sight!" said she, stamping her tiny foot upon the rock on which she was standing--sympathizing with her passion, it threw out sparks, which hardened into diamonds when they cooled. "my experiment has proved a signal failure; i see a child will be a child, in spite of all the charms of science: if ever i take another--if ever i try again to bring up a philosopher, may i lose my crown!" rudolph, affrighted, had run through the little gate, which immediately closed behind him. he looked around; the scene was strangely familiar. he found himself at the border of a wood, in a place where three roads crossed. "it was there," thought he, "that, a year or two ago, i dashed into the forest on saladin, and got lost: and since then i have been in fairy land." at that moment he lifted up his eyes, and saw old fritz approach, leading saladin; he ran forward to meet him, and fritz, on his part, seemed overjoyed at seeing his young master. "you dear old soul! how glad i am to see you! why, you don't look a day older than when we parted!" "it would be queer if i did, as we only parted company an hour ago, when you rode off and left your poor old fritz. how you have frightened me! i thought you had gone home the nearest way, and rode there to see: but no, you were not at the castle. so i came back again, very much worried about you on account of the shower that came up so suddenly, and met your horse, quite near the wood. i'm glad to find you at last!" "is it possible it was only an hour ago? i can hardly believe it." "oh yes, no more, though it has seemed longer to me, i have been so anxious." rudolph laughed. "i do believe i have been asleep! and i have had the funniest dream! do you know, i thought i was in fairy land? it was all so sweet, and so grand, and learned, and tiresome--oh, i am glad it was only a dream. i did want so much to get home again, and have some fun." "how could he wish to leave such a charming place, where there was every thing that was lovely on earth?" cried gertrude. "i think he had very little taste." "there was all there," said aunt lucy, "but the very things he wanted--his father and mother, his playmates, kind old fritz, and his horse and dog--not to speak of a very important thing in a boy's eyes, liberty to play without being pestered with continual lectures." "i think your fairy queen has a tart temper of her own, sister ellen," said tom. "when she was rating the poor little fellow for ingratitude, i thought of that passage in virgil, where the rage of the gods is spoken of--'tantæne animis coelestibus iræ!'" "do translate, for the benefit of the unlearned. it is so _mannish_ to quote latin," said cornelia. "'can such anger dwell in celestial souls?' you see i am all obedience," answered tom. "you should remember, my dear critic, that fairies never yet claimed to be perfect beings. they are very far from being angels, and are decidedly of the earth, earthy. you know that the inferior specimens of the race--the vulgar fairies--delight in playing tricks upon careless housekeepers, spilling their cream and spoiling their butter: that is not very angelic, i'm sure. of course, the queen would be too dignified and too spiritual for such frolics; but she could not understand much about human nature, or child-nature, and especially she would think the affections to be great nonsense. but she has bought her experience now, with rudolph." "one comfort is, that she does not intend to take another child to educate--she has had enough!" said amy. "she could not, if she would," replied mary. "i think the day has now come, foreseen by the prophetic owl, 'when iron monsters, with breath of flame, shall blot from earth the fairy name.'" "steam engines and locomotives?" said louis. "nothing else," replied ellen. "i do not doubt in the least that the whole of that fairy wood has been carefully surveyed and graded, and iron tracks run directly through the palace itself." "oh what a shame!" cried harry. "'tis very sad, indeed, to have all romance spoiled in this way," said mrs. wyndham. "but we have a modern substitute for the magic of elfdom--this very steam-engine, which works such wonders; the electric telegraph, which beats time itself, making news depart from philadelphia for st. louis, and reach its destination an hour before it started, if you may believe the clock. and some of those toys, originally invented by the fairy queen, if we may credit ellen--the telescope, bringing down the moon so near to you, that you feel inclined to take a long step, and place yourself in another planet--and photography, which enables you in one moment to possess upon metal or paper an exact fac-simile of your friend. if these things do not surpass all we read of in fairy land, i know nothing about it." "i have one very serious objection to your fairy queen, cousin ellen," said charlie bolton, trying to keep a long, sober face. "what is that? poor queen, how she is criticised! if she were here, she would show her temper now, i think!" "she is such a horrid _blue_. it's all very well for her to dance, and mix the rainbow, and sprinkle the dew upon her flowers, and wear the evening star on her forehead, if she does not find its weight oppressive--that's all feminine enough. but when she tries to come over us as an _esprit fort_--a strong-minded woman--it's rather too much. oxygen and hydrogen, and all the _ologies_--i never can stand that sort of thing in a woman." "just as if we had not a right to knowledge as well as the lords of the creation! and besides, i want to know, master charlie, which is the most disgusting--for a woman to lisp learning, or for a man to talk politics, as the creatures will do!" "oh, i beg your pardon--i very humbly retract, my dear coz. i must use the words of that sensible 'coon, who has earned immortality by meeting his death like a philosopher--'is that you, captain scott?' 'yes.' 'then you need not fire--don't take the trouble to raise your rifle--if it's you, captain scott, i might as well come down.' so, if it's you, miss cornelia wyndham, you can spare your shot, for i'll come down at once;--i would rather face the woman's rights' convention, in full conclave assembled, than my cousin cornelia, when she stands up for the rights of her sex to be pedantic and disagreeable!" "i was quite amused at the queen's experiments in education," said mr. wyndham. "she is not the only one who has tried to force knowledge upon unwilling minds, and to develop children as we would spring peas and asparagus, by subjecting them to hot-house stimulants. these fancy methods of training the young idea do not appear to succeed very well; to see some of the cards used in infant schools, and to read occasional school advertisements, you would deem it quite impossible that any dunces could escape the elevating processes now applied to the unfortunate little ones--yet, happily, the constitutions of most children are very elastic, and there are not as many instances of dropsy on the brain as we might expect." "i wonder the fairy did not take a hint from the bees," remarked mary. "how is that? have they any particular mode of training?" "very much so: when they want to rear up a sovereign who shall be fitted to govern the hive with wisdom, they take any one of their hundred little grubs at random, and put it under tutors and governors. these cram it, not with lectures on political economy, books on international law, or any thing of that sort, but with food much more to its taste--the very best honey, and a kind of _royal food_, which i suppose it is considered high treason for a subject to touch. day by day, the grub becomes more and more the princess, and finally expands into queenly magnificence, when, of course, she must have a hive of her own, or do as dido of tyre--colonize, and found a carthage." "quite amusing! but is it true?" "yes, actually; and if only some such process could be applied to children, would it not save trouble?" "and wouldn't we like it!" cried george wyndham, "ah, but i'd make a bonfire of my euclid and virgil, and all the other worthies, or bury them, as the fellows do yearly at yale college--i had much rather be fed with some essence of knowledge, like the bees." "this talk about fancy modes of mental culture," remarked mr. wyndham, "reminds me of a life i lately read of mr. day, the author of that delightful book, sandford and merton. he was a remarkably benevolent and excellent man, but visionary, and had some peculiar crotchets about education. when quite a young man, he took charge of two poor, pretty orphan girls, and had them trained up in accordance with his own ideas, intending to make one of them his wife. both grew to be fine women, but to spoil the romance, fell in love with other men! so that he enjoyed the pleasure of sedulously educating good wives for two worthy tradesmen, and being left in the lurch himself. a second experiment turned out yet worse, for it cost him his life: he had doubtless had enough of girls, so he took another animal, which he thought might be tamer and more tractable--a horse. he would not allow it to be broken in the usual method, which he considered very cruel: he would talk to it, caress it, make it his friend, win it by kindness. but unfortunately for his experiment, the horse killed him, by a kick, i believe, before it had succeeded." "poor day! uncle, you remind me of the cow that the man wanted to train so as to consider eating a superfluity--she was coming on admirably, but unfortunately for the full success of the experiment, she perversely died, the very day her owner had reduced her to one straw." "how very unlucky!" "aunt lucy," said alice, "when ellen gave us the queen's theorizing in education, i could not help thinking of the old saw, 'bachelors' wives and old maids' bairns are always the best guided.' it's very easy to manage _dream_ children; but when you come to real flesh and blood, it's quite another matter. it does not appear to me that all this systematizing and speculation does much good." "not a bit of it," cried george wyndham. "we boys must be boys to the end of the chapter; and i tell you, some of us are pretty tough subjects! the only hope is that we may turn out not quite so horrid, when we grow up." "i once heard a plan proposed for getting rid of boys of your age, brother george," said cornelia. "much obliged; what was that?" "to bury them at seven, and dig them out at seventeen; how do you like it?" "'tis a bad plan. there would be nobody left in the world to run errands for older sisters--it would never do." "when little rudolph was so fond of his vegetable friends," said mary, "and found them so good, so sweet, so much to his taste, i thought of an account i had somewhere read, written, i think, by the witty sydney smith, of a conversation a new missionary in the south sea islands held about his predecessor, who had been eaten by the cannibals. he asked the natives if they had known him--we will call him mr. brown, as it's rather fabulous. 'mr. brown? oh yes! very good man--mr. brown! very good.' 'and did you know his family?' 'oh yes! such sweet little children! so nice and tender! but mrs. brown was a bad woman--she was _so very tough_.' she was not to their taste." "but, cousin ellen," said amy, "i want to know about those vegetable friends of rudolph. i know that capsicum is a kind of pepper, and i have often met nasturtium, crowned with his orange-flowers; i suppose, of course, that solanum and farinacea are potatoes--but who is that sharp cochlearia, who told solanum he was a mealy-mouthed fellow?" "horse-radish--which solanum thought enough to bring tears into anybody's eyes." "and daucus--was he a carrot?" "yes; and raphanus, with his brilliant complexion, was a radish. maranta was arrow-root, zea was indian corn, and brassica, a turnip--we often enjoy their society at table." "i shall always think of cochlearia when i eat horse-radish on my beef," said charlie bolton. "especially when i take too much, by mistake." "and when i find, to my sorrow, that potatoes have hearts i shall think of solanum." chapter iii. the rhyming game.--orikama, or the white water lily, an indian tale. great was the chagrin of our young party on the following morning, to find that a storm had set in, giving no prospect of amusements out of doors for the day: the rain came down in a determined manner, as if it had no intention of clearing up for a week, and the winds whistled and scolded in every variety of note; even the boys, who prided themselves upon a manly contempt for wind and weather, agreed that the chimney corner was the best place under the circumstances, and that they must try to make themselves as agreeable as possible at home. cornelia quoted, for the benefit of the rest, a receipt she had somewhere met with for the "manufacture of sunshine," which she thought would be especially valuable on such a darksome day: "take a good handful of industry, mix it thoroughly with family love, and season well with good-nature and mutual forbearance. gradually stir in smiles, and jokes, and laughter, to make it light, but take care these ingredients do not run over, or it will make a cloud instead of what you wish. follow this receipt carefully, and you have an excellent supply of sunshine, warranted to keep in all weathers." accordingly, it was resolved to make sunshine, and aunt lucy offered to provide the industry, if they would furnish the other materials. soon were heaps of flannel and other stout fabrics produced from her "dorcas closet," as she called it, in which her provisions for the poor were laid up, in nice order; for even in our happy land does it hold true that "the poor ye have always with you, and whensoever ye _will_ ye may do them good," and kind aunt lucy was not one to neglect this duty. on the day preceding christmas, according to her principle of making as many happy as possible, she had ordered a barrel of flour to be baked into cakes and pies, and had distributed them, along with a turkey and a bushel of potatoes to each, among all the poor families of the neighborhood; and this was only one specimen of the numerous kindly acts by which she drew together the hearts of all around her, and made them realize the christian brotherhood of man. where there were children, she made them happy by the present of a few penny toys; a very cheap investment, yielding a large return of rapture! she could never deny herself the pleasure of giving these little offerings of love with her own hands, and wishing her poor neighbors a "happy christmas;" and on this occasion she had learnt the destitution of a poor widow, who struggled hard to support her young family and to maintain a decent appearance, but who was now laid up with sickness, and unable to provide clothing and fuel for herself and her little ones. mr. wyndham had immediately sent her a load of wood, and his wife was now anxious to furnish the necessary garments. the young girls were rejoiced to aid in the good work, and soon all fingers were busy, and needles were in swift operation; while the boys took turns in the entertainment of the sewers, by alternately reading aloud from a pleasant book. tom green was an excellent reader; his agreeable tones of voice made it a pleasure to listen to him, and his clear articulation and varied expression added greatly to the interest of the narrative. why is it that this desirable accomplishment, which promotes so much the happiness of the home circle, is not more cultivated? after dinner, charlie bolton proposed some games, as he said that quite enough of industry and gravity had been put into the preparation, and he feared the sunshine would not be properly made without the smiles, jokes, and laughter spoken of in the receipt. "how do those lines of milton run, ellen, in l'allegro? my favorite piece--before the old fellow got to be so very sublime, as he is in the paradise lost." "you irreverent jackanapes! to speak so of the immortal bard! i suppose you mean, 'but come, thou goddess fair and free, in heaven yclept euphrosyne, and by men, heart-easing mirth; haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee jest, and youthful jollity, quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, nods and becks, and wreathed smiles, such as hang on hebe's cheek, and love to live in dimple sleek: sport, that wrinkled care derides, and laughter, holding both his sides.'" "that is the passage i mean, and that is the very company i should like to invite, if the rest have no objection." all approved of the suggestion, and soon the whole party was busily engaged in various lively games, "graces," "battledore and shuttlecock," "hunt the slipper," etc., which combined bodily exercise with healthful excitement of the mirthful organs, which some philosophers assert to be, after all, the distinguishing trait of mankind. some call man a "thinking animal," but this is so self-evident a slander upon the great majority of the species, that no words are needed to refute it: one attempted to define him as "a biped without feathers," but when a plucked fowl was brought forward as a specimen of his man, he was obliged to give up that definition. others again describe him as "a cooking animal," but while dogs can act as turnspits, and monkeys can roast chestnuts, he cannot claim this lofty epithet as peculiarly his own; besides, some savages have been found so degraded as to be unacquainted with the use of fire. but wherever man is found, whether under the heats of an african sun, or shivering in the cold of a lapland winter, upon the steppes of tartary, or the pampas of south america, his joyful laughter shows that he is a man, intended for social life and for happiness. 'tis true, we read of the _hyena laugh_, but we protest against such a misapplication of terms: the fierce, mocking yell of that ferocious creature has nothing in common with hearty, genial, human laughter: other animals can weep, but man alone can laugh. and how great a refreshment is it! it relieves the overtasked brain, and the heart laden with cares; it makes the blood dance in the veins of youth, and gives a new impetus to the spirits; work goes on more briskly, when a gay heart sets the active powers in motion. well did the wise king say, "a merry heart doeth good like a medicine:" it keeps off gray hairs and wrinkles, better than any cosmetic that ever was invented. the ancient greeks realized its value, when they placed a jester in the society of their gods upon olympus: as their deities were clothed with human attributes, they did not omit to provide for their amusement. the young ladies were not too dignified and fastidious, nor aunt lucy too wise to join in the sports, and the old lady's spectacles and cap did not feel at all insulted when the handkerchief was tied round them in "blind man's buff," and the hall rang with the jocund shouts of the children, whose greater activity eluded her grasp. when even the youngest acknowledged that they had enjoyed enough romping for one day, mary proposed a new amusement of a quieter character, which she had just heard of, entitled "the rhyming game." as it was found very pleasant, i will give a specimen, that the reader may try it of a winter's evening. one person thinks of a word, but instead of naming it, mentions another with which it rhymes; the next thinks of another rhyme, which is to be _described_, not spoken, and then the leader of the game, guessing from the description what word is meant, says it is, or it is not, such a thing. and so all round the circle. "i've thought of a word that rhymes with _sat_," said mary. "is it that sly animal of the tiger species which is domesticated by man, and delights to steal the cream and to torture poor little mice?" said amy. "no, it is not a _cat_." "is it that useful article which covers the floor in summer, that is on the dinner-table every day in the year, and may be seen behind or before almost every front door?" said cornelia. "no, it is not a _mat_." "is it that nondescript winged quadruped, something like a bird, something like a mouse, something like a kangaroo, which troubles us sometimes of a summer's evening, by flying about the room and entangling itself in our hair?" said ellen. "no, it is not a _bat_." "is it that other agreeable creature, which infests old houses, but is prudent enough to leave them when they begin to fall down: that is very voracious, and sometimes eats babies' noses off?" said tom. "no, it is not a _rat_." "is it a very gentle slap, indicative of love?" "no, it is not a _pat_." "is it one of the wooden pieces of which blinds are composed?" "no, it is not a _slat_." "is it a manly covering for the head?" "no, it is not a _hat_." "is it that word sometimes applied to a disagreeable child?" "no, it is not a _brat_." "is it the opposite of leanness?" "no, it is not _fat_." "is it that covering for the head occasionally worn by young misses, and also a frequent quality of their conversation?" said charlie bolton. "no, insulting sir, it is _not_ a _flat_." "is it that amiable insect, so anxious to discover whether all are made of the same blood, which pays such particular attention to visitors among pine forests?" "no, it is not a _gnat_." "is it a large receptacle used in the brewery and tannery?" "no, it is not a _vat_." "is it an ornamental way of dressing the hair?" said gertrude. "yes, it is a _plait_. now it's your turn, gertrude." "i've thought of a word that rhymes with _rock_." "is it an important part of woman's attire?" "no, it is not a _frock_." "is it an article of infants' clothing?" "no, it is not a _sock_." "is it the thing that brokers buy and sell?" "no, it is not _stock_." "is it a common weed, and also the place where ships are built?" "no, it is not a _dock_." "is it a collection of sheep?" "no, it's not a _flock_." "is it a german wine, highly prized by connoisseurs?" "no, it is not _hock_." "is it a rap at the door?" "no, it is not _knock_." "is it a curious instrument that has hands, but no eyes or ears, and that always weighs its actions, but never does any thing but reprove other people's laziness?" "no, it is not a _clock_." "is it that word, which followed by head, shows what we all are, for not guessing it sooner?" "yes, you are right, it is a _block_." in the evening, mary was appointed by general consent to tell that eagerly-desired indian story. "and mind you give us scalping enough," said charlie bolton; "i'm a little afraid you are too tender-hearted to give your story the proper dramatic effect. it's worth nothing unless there is a great deal of blood spilt, and a whole string of scalps." "horrible, charlie! how can you bear such things! however, i needn't be afraid, if cousin mary is to tell the tale," said amy. "how can i possibly please the taste of both?" replied mary; "i plainly see that only one way is left for me; to suit myself--so, if you'll excuse me, that's the thing i'll do." "we'll be compelled to excuse you, i suppose," said charlie with a shrug: "well, go on then, and be as merciful as your weak woman's nature compels you to be." accordingly, with this encouraging permission, mary began her story, which she called orikama, or the white water-lily: an indian tale. nearly a hundred years ago, when the greater part of pennsylvania was still covered with forests, and was peopled chiefly by wild deer and yet wilder indians, there might have been seen, upon the banks of the beautiful susquehanna, a log cottage of very pretty appearance. it consisted of two stories, and was surrounded by a piazza, whose pillars, trunks of trees unstripped of their bark, were encircled by a luxuriant growth of ivies and honeysuckles, which ran up to the roof, and hung down in graceful festoons. the house was situated so as to command the finest prospect of the river and the distant hills, and gave the traveller the impression that it was erected by people of more refinement than the common settlers of that region, rough backwoodsmen, who thought of little else than the very necessary work of subduing the wild, planting corn and potatoes, and shooting bears and deer. and so it was: james buckingham, who with his young wife had settled there, having purchased land in that vicinity, was a man accustomed to a more polished state of society, and had received a college education in new england. but having become deeply attached to a young girl whose parents refused consent to their union, the impetuosity of his character prevailed over his sense of filial piety, and he persuaded the beautiful ellen farmington to leave her home and duty, and to give him a husband's right to protect her. in all probability, patience and submission might have prevailed upon her parents to give up an opposition, which was in reality unreasonable and groundless, as buckingham was a young man in every way calculated to make their daughter happy; but this rash act of youthful folly had embittered their feelings, and the young couple were forbidden ever to show their faces in the old homestead, lest a parent's curse should light upon their heads. too proud to show any repentance, even if he felt it, james buckingham determined to settle in another state, where nothing should recall the past, and where his small amount of capital, and large stock of energy and industry, might be employed to advantage; accordingly, he fixed his lot among the pioneers of penn's colony, and chose a romantic situation upon the susquehanna for his dwelling. very toilsome were the first years of their settlement, and great their privations; but they were young and happy, and willing hands and loving hearts made toil a pleasure. in a few years, woods were cleared, fields inclosed, barns built, and then, agreeably to solomon's advice, the buckinghams thought of building a commodious dwelling. "prepare thy work without, and make it fit for thyself in the field, and afterwards build thy house." the aid of neighbors, ever ready for such an undertaking, was called into requisition, and soon they removed from the small and only too well ventilated hut, through the chinks of which the sun shone in by day and the moon by night, and the rain penetrated whenever it would, to the ample, pleasant home already described. here it was that little emily buckingham, their only child, first saw the light; and then the cup of their happiness seemed only too full for mortals to quaff. as the child daily grew in beauty, and her engaging ways filled their hearts with delight, then first did they realize the absorbing nature of a parent's love, and regret that _they_ were separated from those who had so felt to emily's mother, when she lay, a helpless infant, in their arms. yet pride prevailed, and no overtures were made to those whom they still thought severe and unrelenting. few, and scattered far, were the farmers in that region, for they were on the very outskirts of civilization. at a short distance rose a primeval forest, untouched by the axe of the settler, where the deer roamed freely, unless shot by the indian hunter; and many were the friendly indians who visited the cottage, and exchanged their game, their baskets, and their ornamented moccasins, for the much-coveted goods of civilized life. frequent among these guests was towandahoc, great black eagle,--so called from his first boyish feat, when, riding at full gallop, he had shot down an eagle on the wing, so unerring was his aim; and its feathers now adorned his head. towandahoc was a great hunter, and did not disdain to traffic with the "pale faces," not only for rifles and gunpowder, but for many domestic comforts to which most indians are indifferent. but great black eagle, although fearless as the bird whose name he bore, was a humane man, more gentle in character than most of his race, and a great friend of the whites, the brethren of the good onas, as the red men called the man who laid the foundations of our commonwealth in peace, by a treaty which, in the language of voltaire, "is the only one never confirmed by an oath, and never broken." especially was towandahoc attached to the buckingham family, who ever treated him kindly, and to the little girl who played with his bow and arrows, and tried in her artless prattle to pronounce his name. unbroken peace had hitherto prevailed between the red men and the pale faces, owing to the just and friendly treatment the natives had experienced; but symptoms of another spirit began now to appear. the war waged between england and france had extended to the colonies, and the french were unremitting in their efforts to gain the indians to their side. a line of fortifications was erected by them, extending from canada to the ohio and mississippi, and they were strongly intrenched at fort du quesne, the site of the city of pittsburg. braddock's expedition and memorable defeat had just taken place; and it was thought by many that the pennsylvania tribes, enraged by the honorable refusal of the assembly to accept their tomahawks and scalping-knives in the war, and courted, on the other hand, by the french, were cherishing a secret, but deep hostility. many of mr. buckingham's neighbors erected blockhouses, protected by palisades, to which they might retreat in case of an attack, and stored them with arms, ammunition, and provisions; but his confidence in the good disposition of the aborigines was too great to allow him to appear suspicious of those who came backward and forward to his dwelling in so much apparent friendship. such was the posture of affairs when emily had reached her fourth year: dear as she was to her parents, the return of her birthday found her unspoilt, and as sweet and well-trained a child as any in the colony. it was worth a walk to see her: her golden curls fell upon a neck of alabaster, and her delicate, regular features were illuminated by dark vivacious eyes: she strongly resembled her mother, who had one of those faces which once seen, are never forgotten, and that seem to ripen merely, not to change, from youth to old age. but this extreme loveliness of person formed but the setting of the gem; emily herself combined so much sweetness and liveliness of disposition, was so affectionate, gentle, and docile, that it was no wonder her parents made her the centre of all their plans and enjoyments. it was she who must always outstrip her mother, in welcoming her father in from the field, "and climbed his knee, the envied kiss to share," and to listen to the delightful tale, that could never be repeated too often: she must bring his slippers, and place his seat near the fire in winter. and she must "help mamma" in all her concerns; and although such help was only a delicious kind of hindrance, her bright face and winsome ways made all tasks light and pleasant. never had she looked so lovely in her mother's eyes as she did on the evening of her birthday, when in her little white night-slip, with bare feet and folded hands, she knelt down to recite the simple prayer she had been taught that day, as a reward for good conduct; the setting sun streamed in at the window, and as its rays lingered among her curls, as if they belonged there, and were reluctant to leave, the mother thought of a kneeling cherub, with a glory encirling her head--but blessed god that her child was yet upon the earth. long did that picture dwell upon her memory. after singing her to sleep with a gentle lullaby, such as a mother only can employ, she imprinted a tender kiss upon the sleeping child, and having seen that all things were well and safely arranged in the house, she and her husband left, intending to spend the evening with mr. markley and his family, who lived at a distance of five or six miles. they were on more intimate terms with them than with any other neighbors, and took back with them roland markley, a boy of ten, who had spent the day with little emily, his especial friend and pet, whom he was never weary of assisting and amusing. it was a pleasure to see the children together: the little girl looked up to him as almost a man, and he made her every whim a law. for her he would make the trip little vessel, and launch it upon the water; for her he would construct the bridge of stones across the brook, and guide her little feet safely to the other side. the conversation at mr. markley's house was of an alarming character; it was said that sure information had been received of a speedy rising of the indians, and the buckinghams were urged instantly to remove to that more thickly settled spot, where a large blockhouse was erected, and all preparations were made to give the enemy a warm reception. the addition of even one able-bodied man to their force was desirable, and they strove to impress upon their neighbors the imminent peril of their exposed situation. so earnest were they, and so probable did the news appear, that mr. buckingham resolved to comply with their wishes, and to remove on the morrow; and with hearts heavier than when they left home, they started to return to it. "do you perceive the smell of smoke? if it should be our cottage!" said ellen buckingham, first breaking the silence in which they rode along. "the woods may be on fire again: do not be alarmed; the conversation this evening has unnerved you," replied her husband; but he could not conceal the tremor of his own voice, as a horrible fear entered into his heart; a fear, soon to become a more horrible certainty! as they drew near, the air became thick with smoke, and when they entered the cleared ground and looked for their home, no home was there! instead, burning rafters and smoking ruins: around, the ground was trodden down by many feet of moccasined men. partly consumed by the fire, lay the bodies of two farm-servants who had been in mr. buckingham's employ; a tomahawk, smeared with fresh blood, lay among the smoking embers; and a golden curl singed by fire, was near it--all they could discover of little emily! the murderers had left, doubtless disappointed that, their prey was so small; and in the first moments of agony, the bereaved parents wished that they too had fallen victims to their fiendish rage. emily was dead, certainly dead! the fresh blood, the lock of hair, proved it only too clearly; her body had been consumed by the flames. the light of their lives had been put out, the glory had passed away from their sky, and they must now go mourning all their days; they felt as did a parent in the olden time, whose words are recorded in scripture, "if i am bereaved of my children, i am bereaved." one little hour had changed the aspect of the whole earth to them. and yet, broken-hearted as they were, they must act: not now could they fold their hands in despair. soon was the news of the indian rising spread among the settlers; and while all flew to arms, and joined in the necessary preparations, tears fell from eyes that were never known to weep before, and rough men spoke soothing words to the mourners; for little emily was known and loved by all for miles around, and many said "she need not change much to be made an angel." it was agreed that with the earliest dawn, when the women and children were safely disposed of, they should meet at the ruins of the hopedale cottage, so was it called, and follow the trail of the savages through the woods; some sanguine spirits, chief among whom was little roland markley, still asserted that emily might live, and have been carried away into captivity; but her parents could not so deceive themselves--that lock of hair had convinced them of her death; hope could not enter their hearts, it had died with emily. one entire day did the indian-hunters follow in the trail and came upon the spot where their enemies had encamped; and there, three trails in different directions, looked as if the savages had scattered. what was to be done? to follow all was impossible, as their own force was a small one; and meantime night had come on, wrapping all things in her mantle of secrecy, and fatigue required them to rest their weary frames. setting a watch, and lighting a fire, with loaded rifles within reach, they slept; such a sleep as men can take, when they dream of a red hand at their throats, and a tomahawk glancing before their eyes. light hearts make heavy sleep; but such a deed as had been committed in the midst of them, makes men start from their slumbers if but a cricket chirps, or a withered leaf falls to the ground. during the night, heavy rains began to fall, and when morning light appeared, all traces of the pathway of their enemy had disappeared; the leaves fell abundantly from the trees, and no mark was left upon the earth to show where they had passed. the baffled party did not give up the search for several days, but nothing transpired to throw any light upon the subject; and they were obliged reluctantly to return, in order to defend their own homes and families from a similar fate. few doubted little emily's death; but some still clung to the hope that she was in the land of the living, and might yet be recovered. but her father and mother hoped nothing: grief entirely filled up their hearts. and with the grief arose a new feeling--bitter and poignant remorse. "this is the just punishment," they thought, "that offended heaven has inflicted upon us, for having wrung _our_ parents' hearts with anguish. now we feel a parent's agony: now can we realize what we made them suffer. this was the tender spot on which a wound would penetrate to the heart; and here it is that a retributive providence has struck us. the arrows of the almighty have pierced us--shall we any longer strive against our maker? we will humble ourselves in the dust, o righteous judge, and will return to duty: if it be not yet too late--if our parents still live--incline their hearts to forgive!" and their pitying god heard their prayer, and brought them in safety to their childhood's home, and prepared for them pardon and peace of conscience. for ellen buckingham's father had been brought to the brink of the grave by sudden illness, and the stern old man wept like a child, when the village pastor, a faithful minister of the gospel, told him that the most faultless creed would not avail him if he cherished a hardened, unforgiving spirit, and exhorted him to pardon and bless his exiled son and daughter. his iron heart was subdued within him, and when his wife, whose gentler nature had long since pined for a reconciliation, joined her entreaties to the commands of religion, then, like the sudden breaking up of the ice upon a noble river, his feelings gushed forth beyond control; all coldness and hardness vanished. at this moment it was that james and ellen buckingham arrived: they had come in the spirit of the prodigal son, not thinking themselves worthy to be called the children of those they had offended; and they were greeted with the same tenderness and overflowing affection described in the parable--their confessions of guilt were stopped by kisses and embraces, and soon they were weeping and recounting their loss, with arms encircling their long-estranged parents. when the doctor paid his next visit, he said that a greater physician than he had interfered, and had administered a new medicine, not very bitter to take, which threw all his drugs into the shade: it was called _heart's ease_, and nothing more was wanting to his patient's recovery, than very tender nursing, and daily applications of the same dose. and tender nursing indeed did he receive from his daughter ellen, and proudly did he lean on the strong arm of his son, when sufficiently convalescent to venture abroad: it seemed as if the affection, restrained within their bosoms for so long a time, now gushed forth more fully and freely than if there had never been a coldness. and thus did sorrow on one side, and sickness on the other, guided by an overruling providence, join together long severed hearts, purify affections too much fixed upon the earth, and lead all to look upward to him who ruleth in the affairs of mankind. truly, "he doth not afflict _willingly_ nor grieve the children of men." at the earnest request of ellen's parents, her husband agreed to continue with them, acting in all respects as their son, and taking off from them the burdens of life: and their latter years were made happy by religion and filial piety. after their death, the buckinghams removed once more to their farm upon the susquehanna, and rebuilt their cottage, in all respects as it was before its destruction. soon again did the vines clamber up the pillars, and hang in beautiful festoons from the roof; but where was she, the beloved one, who had so wound herself round their feelings, that death itself could not unclasp the tendrils? joy had vanished with her, and no portion remained for them in this life but peace, which will ever follow the diligent discharge of duty: the hope of happiness they transferred to that better world, where little emily awaited to welcome them. what, meantime, had been her fate? on that eventful evening she lay upon her little crib, in a darkened corner of the room, buried in the sweet slumber of childhood and innocence. the savage yells did not disturb her, she peacefully slept on; angels must have guarded her bed when a fierce indian, with bloody tomahawk in hand, rushed into the room, but saw her not in her little nest, and returned to his comrades, reporting that all the rest of the inhabitants had fled. determined to do all the mischief in their power, they set fire to the house and barns, and then pushed off into the woods, to seek new victims in the unoffending moravian settlement of guadenhutten. little emily was first awakened by a suffocating heat and smoke, and by the crackling of the flames: she screamed aloud to her father for help, and tried to approach the stairs, but the blinding smoke and the quickly spreading fire drove her back. just then, a tall and noble form, arrayed in indian garb, forced a passage through the raging flames and among the falling rafters, and guided by her cries, sought her chamber, caught her in his arms, and rushed down to the outer air. not without peril to both: the arm which encircled her was burnt so as to bear the scar ever after, but still it sustained its precious burden, and the little girl was unharmed, save that some of her long golden tresses, hanging loosely behind her, were severed from her head by the fire: hence the lock of hair that remained unconsumed, convincing her friends of her death. and who was her brave preserver? towandahoc, great black eagle, the friend of the pale faces! the secret plans of his tribe had been kept from his ears, from the fear that he might betray them to the unsuspecting whites; and it was not until after the expedition had departed for the banks of the susquehanna, that he learned their hostile intentions towards his friends. he lost no time, but followed rapidly in their steps, hoping by his representations to induce his people to give up their murderous purpose, or perhaps, by a short but difficult route through the mountains, to reach the cottage of hopedale before them. but hate is as swift as love in its flight, and as he approached the spot, and saw the flames mounting up to the sky, he thought himself too late, and the work of murder and of destruction complete. just then he heard little emily's cries, and rushed in at the peril of his life, to save the child. supposing her parents to be dead, he resolved to take the helpless little one to his wigwam, and to adopt her as his own. his home was at the distance of several days' journey from the susquehanna, in a retired valley of the alleghany mountains, and thither, through a dense forest, he bent his steps. the greater part of the way he carried the child, her white arm wound round his dusky neck, her fair head lying upon his shoulder; he dried her tears, he picked berries in the wood to refresh her, and strove to comfort her little heart, which was very heavy with sorrow. at last they arrived at his wigwam; his wife ponawtan, or wild rose, ran out to meet her husband, and great was her wonder at the sight of his beautiful burden. he said to her:-- "ponawtan, i have brought you home a child, as the great spirit has taken away our own, and sent them to the good hunting grounds, where forever they hunt the deer. take good care of the child, for she is like a white water-lily, encircled by troubled waters: in our wigwam may she find rest and peace." ponawtan, with a woman's tenderness, took into her arms the trembling, weeping child, who, with the quick instinct of childhood, soon learned that she was a friend. the indian woman understood not even the few words of english by which towandahoc made his kind intentions intelligible, but the language of the heart is a universal one, and in that she was a proficient. well was it for little emily--or orikama, white water-lily, as she was henceforth called, that she had fallen into such good hands. ponawtan was a kind, affectionate being, who had deeply mourned the loneliness of her cabin; and now that a child was given her, that a little motherless, homeless outcast was thrown upon her love, she was happy, and her sweet voice was again heard singing snatches of wild indian melodies at the door of her hut, and about her work. for some weeks orikama drooped her head, and her pale cheek looked indeed like the flower whose name had been given her; and ponawtan grieved when she beheld her languid step, and the sad expression in her large speaking eyes, or when she found her weeping in a corner of the hut. but childhood is happily elastic in its feelings, and again the merry glance came back to her eye, and the little feet danced upon the green grass, and the soft baby voice caught up the indian words she heard, and learned to call her kind protectors by the holy name of father and mother. and was the memory of the past blotted out from her mind? not so--indelibly painted there, was the image of a whitewashed cottage, overgrown with vines, near which a noble river rolled, seen through an opening of the trees; and of a kind father, who wore no plumes in his hair, who bore no bow and arrows, whom she had run to greet, and on whose knee she daily sat, listening to beautiful tales. and of a sweet, pretty mother, in whose face she loved to look, who taught her to say a prayer, kneeling with clasped hands; especially did she think of her as she appeared on that last evening, when she kissed her good-night, and sang her to sleep with a gentle lullaby. and never did she forget to kneel down, before she lay upon her bed of sweet grass, and with folded hands and reverent look to recite her evening prayer. what though the full meaning of the words did not enter into her mind--with childlike piety she looked upward to her maker, and impressions of purity and goodness were made upon her heart. in the beautiful language of keble, "oh, say not, dream not, heavenly notes to childish ears are vain, that the young mind at random floats, and cannot reach the strain. dim or unheard, the words may fell, and yet the heaven-taught mind may learn the sacred air, and all the harmony unwind. and if some tones be false or low, what are all prayers beneath, but cries of babes, that cannot know half the deep thoughts they breathe. in his own words we christ adore, but angels, as we speak, higher above our meaning soar than we o'er children weak: and yet his words mean more than they, and yet he owns their praise: why should we think, he turns away from infants' simple lays?" towandahoc and ponawtan wondered when they saw her kneeling in prayer, but did not interfere with the lovely child; and doubtless this daily habit not only kept up within her mind purer notions of god and duty than she could otherwise have entertained, but enabled her to cherish a more vivid remembrance of the parents she believed to be dead, and of the beautiful home of her infancy. never hearing aught spoken but the indian tongue, the little girl would soon have entirely forgotten her native language, had it not been for this daily practice, which kept at least some words of english fresh in her memory. among the indistinct, but most pleasing recollections of the home of her early childhood, was one of a boy with curly black hair and smiling face, who brought her beautiful flowers, and made for her rabbits out of his handkerchief, and pretty little boats out of nut-shells. she remembered eagerly leaning over the water, watching the tiny bark till it got out of sight, while he held her hand tightly, for fear she should fall into the water. another scene, of a different character, was imprinted upon her mind, never to be erased--that fearful waking, when the flames crackled and roared around her, and the thick smoke filled the air, when she called upon her father for help, but no father was there; and when her dark-skinned father towandahoc rushed in to her rescue. when she thought of this night of horror, she instinctively clasped her hands before her eyes, to shut out the fearful sight. these remembrances, however, did not hinder the bright and lively child from being very happy in her new life. and why not? true, here were none of the conveniences or refinements of civilized life, but the little girl grew up without the feeling of their loss, and "where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." no mirrors reflected her erect and graceful figure, unspoiled by corset or by long, wearisome hours of confinement at the school-bench; it was lithe and well-proportioned as one of diana's nymphs; but instead, she arranged her golden tresses, and decked her head with a wreath of wild-flowers, bending over a small mountain lake, which she had appropriated to her own use, and which served her as bathing-house, dressing-room, and looking-glass, all in one. no turkey or persian carpets were spread upon the floor, no sofa with rich carving and velvet seat invited her to indolence; but instead, she trod upon soft green moss, sweet grass and flowers, and when weary, reposed upon such seat as dame nature provides for her children in her beautiful mansion--the old stump, the mossy bank, the well-washed rock, or the tree prostrated by a storm. no sparkling fountain rose into the air, and fell into its ornamented basin, to please her taste; but the mountain waterfall, of which this is but a feeble imitation, rushed down the rocks in snow-white foam, near her cabin; and she would gaze upon it for hours with delight. to the imaginative mind, to the eye and the ear open to the impressions of beauty, nature has many school-books, unopened in the great city, and amid the busy haunts of men; and her ready scholars may gain many a lesson from the great common mother, undreamt of amid the cares of business, the dreams of ambition, and the bustle of fictitious wants. to orikama the world was one vast temple: instead of marble pillars with corinthian capitals, instead of gothic aisles and dark cathedrals, her eye rested with admiration upon the nobler, loftier columns of trees that had grown for centuries, crowned with graceful spreading foliage; upon long avenues, whose overlapping branches formed a natural arch, imitated long since by man, and called an invention; upon the deep recesses of forests, with their "dim religious light," or with their sudden, glorious illumination, when the last rays of the sun stream in lengthwise, with coloring as rich as any painted window can furnish. her choristers were the birds; her incense the sweet perfume which the grateful earth and her innocent children the flowers continually offer up to their maker: instead of the gaudy chandelier, she gazed upon the full-orbed moon, hanging like a silver lamp from its dome of blue, and forcibly recalling the divine hand which placed it there. all nature had a voice and a meaning to her, and in the absence of the ordinary means of education, and of the invaluable aids of the christian ministry, her pure and religious soul "found tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in every thing." living thus constantly in the open air, while her mind expanded in tranquil beauty, she grew up a blooming, healthful maiden, whose kindly, candid nature shone out through a countenance of rare loveliness. "thoughtless of beauty, she was beauty's self." none were there to flatter the young girl, and to awaken that uneasy vanity which fills the mind with the consciousness of observation, and gives awkwardness to the timid, and affectation to the self-possessed. seeing herself so different from those she loved the best, the fair water-lily often wished she could darken her skin and hair, that she might more resemble others. nor think that orikama was totally unaccomplished; her kind mother ponawtan taught her all she herself knew--to fear and love the great spirit; to be obedient, kind, and patient; to speak the truth, and to bear pain without a murmur. she learned that important part of the indian woman's duty, to raise the vegetables needed for their simple repasts, and to prepare savory dishes of venison and other game; to fabricate their garments, ornamenting them with uncommon skill and taste, and to manufacture baskets of exquisite workmanship. these were her tasks: and when they were accomplished, how joyfully did she bound off to the woods, or up the hills, to gather herbs and barks, such as observation and tradition taught the children of the forest to employ in the cure of diseases: she knew all the trees, shrubs, and roots which grew in that region, and was skilled in domestic surgery, such as woman has ever practised where medical colleges are unknown. in her frequent and distant excursions for this purpose, she had attained one accomplishment not to be taught in schools; her voice was one of exquisite tone and great compass, peculiarly rich and mellow; and she had learned to imitate the birds in their varied warblings, so that frequently answers would be returned to her from the deceived songsters of the wood. then, louder still would ring the notes, and the feathered tribe were excited to emulation by the young girl, singing in the gayety of her heart. thus passed the early youth of orikama, in intercourse with sweet nature, under the kind protection of two of the best specimens of the indian tribes, and almost debarred from any other society. seldom did a moccasined hunter enter their wigwam, yet seldomer did a squaw pass through that lonely valley; and a white man, never. when she had attained the age of thirteen, a change occurred, which threw a shadow over her young life, and was greatly regretted by towandahoc and ponawtan. a detachment of their tribe having determined to migrate, fixed upon that beautiful and fertile vale for the place of their settlement, and soon an indian village arose, where before had rested the holy, maiden calmness of a region almost untrod by man. now, all was dirt, confusion, discord: the vices of civilized life were added to those of the savage, without the decency or refinement which seeks to throw a veil over their deformity. orikama woke up as from a beautiful dream, to find that those whom she would love to think of as brethren, were vile and degraded: she saw lazy, drunken men, lounging about at the doors of smoky huts, or administering chastisement to yelping curs, or to women as noisy, reduced by ill-treatment and domestic drudgery to be the cunning, spiteful slaves they were. every thing shocked the noble and pure spirit of orikama: there were none here that she could make companions and friends, nor would towandahoc and ponawtan have been pleased to have her associate with them. it could not be expected that she should be a favorite with the young girls of the tribe, who were jealous of her superior attractions, and hated her for her reserve; and their conduct made her feel sensibly that she was of another race, and of another nature. their malice was perhaps quickened by the fact, that some slight hostilities had again arisen between the red men and the pale faces, in which their tribe had been very prominent. so unpleasantly changed did the whole family find their beautiful valley, that it was resolved to remove to some distant spot, where they should not be crowded out by uncongenial companionship. accordingly, towandahoc departed for an absence of some weeks, to choose a situation for settlement; the less reluctantly, as all the warriors of the tribe had already left upon an expedition, which he had reason to suspect was aimed against the whites. none remained behind but old men, squaws, and pappooses, not to forget the indian dogs, ever ready by their snarl to recall their unwelcome existence to your mind. one day during her husband's absence, ponawtan departed early in the morning, with a view to gather some herbs which grew upon one spot alone, a marsh at a considerable distance: she left orikama to take charge of the wigwam till her return, which would not be before nightfall. soon after she had left, the crack of the rifle was heard, and the indian village was startled from its repose by the shout of the white man, and armed backwoodsmen rushed in, expecting to meet their enemies: but the warriors were absent, and the rough but generous foe disdained to wreak vengeance upon old men, women, and children. all were taken prisoners, and the cabins were fired: but how great was their amazement, upon coming to the larger, handsomer wigwam of towandahoc, which they concluded from its appearance to belong to a sachem, to see there, shrinking back with terror, a fair young girl of their own blood! few words could she speak in english, and but little could she understand of that tongue which for ten years she had not heard spoken, except by herself in prayer; she had even forgotten her own former name. great was the excitement when the news flew through the band, that a lost or stolen child was recovered, and all rushed eagerly to see her. and she, what mingled feelings filled her heart! childish memories of just such men crowded into her mind. she was lost in wonder and vague remembrance. just then, full of ardor, there rushed forward a youth of twenty, who exclaimed the moment his eyes fell upon her, "it _is_ she! i knew she was living! it is little emily buckingham!" as she gazed upon his open brow, round which the crisp black curls were clustered, and heard the long-forgotten name, she was troubled--she thought of the boy who held her hand as she leaned over the edge of the stream to watch the mimic boat, and with faltering tongue she repeated her name. "the voice and all! do you not see, comrades, how she resembles her mother, ellen buckingham? oh, hasten homeward, to give joy to the hearts of her father and mother!" "father, mother, dead. towandahoc, ponawtan, indian father, mother." after some difficulty, roland markley, for it was really he, succeeded in explaining to her that her parents still lived: and against her tears and prayers, determined at once to break all bonds with her indian home, they tore her away, without waiting for the return of towandahoc and ponawtan; but left their wigwam standing, out of gratitude for the care they had taken of the child. the indians had made an incursion into the territory of the whites, and committed many ravages, and it was with the intention of breaking up their villages, and driving them away, that this expedition had been undertaken. the prisoners they had captured were ransomed on condition of their removal, and the whole tribe passed to the other side of the alleghanies. as the band travelled homeward, and first came across the beautiful susquehanna, orikama--or emily, as we should again call her--started, and gazed eagerly around her: the broad stream called up memories of the past. and when they arrived at the cottage of hopedale, and she beheld the house and grounds, the river and the woods, and the distant hills, she recognized her home, and her earliest recollections were vividly recalled. soon was she folded in the arms of her mother, who so long had mourned for her; and by her father she was welcomed back as one from the grave. the news spread far and wide, and great was the gathering of friends and neighbors to wish joy to the parents, and to welcome back the pride of hopedale: much to the confusion and distress of poor emily. all noticed the strong likeness she bore her mother, in person, voice, and countenance; and if now she resembled her, how much more was this the case when she had exchanged her indian garb for one more suitable to the american maiden! soon were the bonds of love knit together most closely between the parents and their recovered treasure; her tongue relearned the lost language of her childhood, and happiness again brightened the hearth at hopedale; the birds sang more sweetly to her mother's ears, and the sun shone more cheerfully than it had done for years. amidst all her new joys, emily very often thought of her beloved indian parents, towandahoc and ponawtan, and longed to see them again; but indian life, as developed in the village, was abhorrent to her very soul, and here she enjoyed all the freedom and communion with nature she had once so highly prized, with society, and advantages for mental cultivation she was now at an age to appreciate. all were delighted to teach the docile and intelligent girl, so ready to take up ideas, so judicious in the application of them; but roland markley, the playmate of her childhood, installed himself as head tutor, and soon every setting sun saw him on the way to the cottage, eager to apply himself to the task. ten other years have passed; and near the cottage of hopedale stands another, within whose porch, overgrown by the prairie rose, at her spinning wheel, sits a beautiful young matron; perfect contentment is enthroned upon her brow, and happiness beams out from her radiant smile; golden curls cluster gracefully around her well-shaped head, and dark, lustrous eyes follow lovingly a little girl at play, although her skilful fingers do not forget their task. "what is the matter, my little ellen?" she said, as the child ran to hide her face in her lap. "an indian, mamma! an indian, coming out of the wood!" at these words emily springs up; she will ever love the red man for the sake of those who nourished her childhood, and never will a son of the forest be sent away uncheered from her door. but times have greatly changed since her father built the neighboring cottage: seldom now does the indian visit that comparatively thickly settled spot; his course is still westward, and ever onward, with the setting sun. when emily emerged from the thickly shaded porch, she saw indeed a red man approach from the forest; he was old, but his majestic figure was still erect, his eye bright and piercing; black eagle plumes adorned his stately head--it was towandahoc! he was soon clasped in the embrace of his long-lost water-lily, and indian though he was, the old man wept over his recovered darling. he told her how ponawtan had returned by nightfall, to find her daughter gone, and the village in ashes: their own wigwam had caught fire from the flying cinders, and was entirely consumed. she had lingered around the spot of her former happiness till his return; after a little time, as they could hear no news of orikama, they had removed far away from the scene of desolation, to the valley of the mohawk. grief for the loss of her daughter had injured the health of ponawtan, although time had now somewhat reconciled her to it: but towandahoc said that the wild rose was drooping, that her leaves were withered, and her flowers falling one by one; and much he feared that another winter would lay her low in the dust. when little ellen understood that this was the dear indian grandpa of whom she had so often heard, her shyness passed away, and soon she drew near to the aged hunter, handling his bow and arrows, and even presuming to climb up and scrutinize the feathers, that were at once her admiration and her dread. the old man took her upon his knee, and was showing her his bow, when roland returned home; he eagerly seconded his wife's persuasions, to induce towandahoc to remain with them for some time, and then to return for ponawtan, that both might pass the remnant of their days within their daughter's dwelling. but the aged hunter shook his head: "it cannot be," he said; "the great spirit has made the pale faces to dwell in houses, to plough the fields, and to listen to the voice which comes from the printed book, held up before his eyes; but he has made the red man to hunt the deer, and to live alone in the open air. when the great spirit created man, he made his red child first, out of the best clay: he then made the pale faces; and lastly, out of what was left he made the black man. and he placed before them three boxes; and because his red child was the favorite, he told him to choose which he would have. so he chose the box containing a bow and arrows, a tomahawk, and a pipe. then the pale face chose; and he took the box which held a plough, carpenters' tools, a gun, and a book. and the black man took what was left: in his box was an overseer's whip, a spade, and a hoe. and this has been the portion of each ever since. i am a red man, and i cannot breathe where men are thicker than trees: to me belong the bow and arrows, the wild deer, and the open sky. the old man has returned to visit the graves of his ancestors; but soon, far away from them, he will drop to the ground, like the ripe persimmon after a frost. orikama has returned to the ways of her fathers, and i do not blame her, for she is a pale face. but the old man cannot change, like a leaf in october; soon will his sun set in yonder western heaven, and he must now keep on his course. i have said." when the moon arose, towandahoc left the house, bending his steps to the forest: but he did not go without passing his word that he would bring ponawtan to see her daughter. before the winter set in, they arrived, and emily's tender heart was grieved as she gazed upon the wasting form of her who had so often sheltered her in her arms: it was only too evident that another summer would not see her upon the earth. ponawtan was greatly cheered by her visit; but could only be prevailed upon to stay for a few days, when she departed, never more to return. in the spring, towandahoc came alone; his sorrowful face and drooping form told the tale of sorrow before he opened his lips: his energy and vital powers seemed to have died with ponawtan. he never came again; and doubtless he soon found a resting-place by the side of her who had been his life-long companion. "so, you didn't kill any of your people off, but the two farm-servants, for whom we do not care a fig!" cried charlie bolton. "not i," replied mary; "i'm not very partial to blood and murder; i would not have put them out of the way, except to please you; i lay the manslaughter at your door, cousin mine." "i'm very willing to bear the penalty: if it's a hanging matter, please to imagine that my neck has paid the forfeit--just consider me hung--as the man said at the crowded dinner table, when an irritable fool took offence at something he had spoken, and being too far off to throw his glass of wine in his face, told him '_to consider the wine as thrown at him_.' 'very well, i will,' replied the first; 'and do you consider this sword as run through your body.'" "a very good retaliation! and what did they do then? did they fight?" "not they! they did much better--they laughed, shook hands, and were good friends ever after." "and their honor was as well satisfied as if they had made targets of their bodies, i dare say: it was much more sensible." "but, cousin mary," said amy thoughtfully, "i've been trying to find out the reason why towandahoc did not take little emily to the nearest white settler, instead of carrying her off into the wild woods; i think it would have been much better for the poor child." "what do you think was the reason?" replied mary. "i know!" cried george. "the indians are such dunces, that old thunder-gust, or whatever his name is, hadn't the sense to do such a straightforward thing as that, but must drag the child off through the woods, scratching her finely with the blackberry and whortleberry bushes, no doubt. i'll warrant she screamed and tried to get away, although cousin mary does try to made her out so gentle--i know i would." "i declare you do not know how to appreciate my fine sentiment! are you boys made of different stuff from us, i want to know?" "i rather suppose we are," said george, laughing. "well, am i right in my explanation?" "not in the least; some one else must try." "i concluded," said alice, "that it was the natural kindness of his heart, and his fondness for the little girl, which made him wish to have her for his own child. of course, he did not realize that he was only a savage, and not fit to bring her up rightly." "that's nearer the truth than the other guess," rejoined mary. "but none of you have mentioned the great reason why towandahoc carried her off." "what can it be?" "simply this--if he had not, what would have become of my story, i'd like to know? i made him take her home with him, on the same principle that novel writers place their heroines in a thousand distressing situations--that they may extricate them from their difficulties, and make a longer tale." "but what's the moral of your story?" said practical, matter-of-fact john. "i don't see much use in a tale, unless there's a regular drawn moral in it, that everybody can discover at once." "oh nonsense! i do hate morals!" said cornelia. "just as if we were to be instructed the whole livelong day, and never to have amusement without a good reason being given! that's too tiresome! i always skip the morals and the _good talk_, when i read stories--if they're pleasant, that's enough: i hate to be cheated into a sermon when i want a story. i feel something as the man did who was fishing for a pike: he caught a cat-fish instead, and throwing it back into the river, exclaimed, 'when i go a-catting, i go a-catting; but when i go a-piking, i go a-piking.'" "i'm afraid a good many people think as you do, cornelia," said mrs. wyndham, laughing. "but perhaps we can find a moral for john, if we look sharply enough. let's see--there are good, kind people in every race, of every complexion; and if we only make the most of our opportunities, there are means of education open to all who have eyes and ears, and willing minds. do you see any other moral?" "oh yes, indeed!" replied ellen. "when the buckinghams were deprived of their child, it was a sort of punishment to them for disobedience to their parents; and they understood it in that way." "true enough," said mr. wyndham. "and i have often noticed that disobedient children are punished in after life, by means of their own offspring: either by their suffering or death, or, still more frequently, by their ingratitude and disrespectful conduct. and then they feel themselves, as their parents did before them, 'how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless child!'" "i have often remarked this also," rejoined mrs. wyndham. "and it appears to be consistent with all the dealings of the disposer of events: he himself says that he will treat us as we treat our fellow-creatures: 'with the merciful thou wilt show thyself merciful, and with the just thou wilt show thyself just, and with the froward thou wilt show thyself froward.'" "and, when we notice these coincidences, is it not an argument for a superintending providence?" said tom green. "undoubtedly it is," replied his uncle; "and although evil conduct here is frequently unpunished, being left for the more perfect retributions of eternity, yet it is so often followed by unhappiness, and by a reward in kind, that no thinking mind can doubt the moral government of god. and it appears to me that of all the commandments, that one which says 'honor thy father and thy mother, that it may be well with thee,' is the one taken under the especial protection of providence. i have ever noticed that dutiful children are honored by the world, and honored in their own family circle, and that, on the other hand, it is ill with the rebellious and unthankful." "then there is another thing i was thinking of," said amy; "the good uses of sorrow: you know it brought the buckinghams to repentance; and ellen's father being taken ill, he repented too--i think he had as much need of it as they. i'm glad my father is not cross and severe." "so am i, heartily. would you run off, amy, if he were?" said cornelia. "oh! i hope not! i should think 'how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless child.' i shall not forget that passage, uncle, as long as i live: who wrote it?" "shakspeare: and as a general rule you may conclude, when you meet a particularly striking passage, that it is either in shakspeare or milton. but it is getting late: will mary be kind enough to bring the bible, for it will then be time to say, good-night to you all!" chapter iv. proverbs.--twenty questions.--the spectre of alcantra, or the conde's daughters, a tale of spain. brightly and joyfully did the sun arise after the storm, like a prisoner released from dungeon and chains, again to look upon the faces of those he loved; and all nature put on a holiday garb to greet him. every tree and bush was sparkling, as if with rapture. if a magician of superhuman power had waved his wand over the earth, it could not have been more changed. long icicles were suspended from the fences and the overhanging roofs, and even the sheds looked brilliant and beautiful in their icy covering; but the trees! what words can describe them? the pines bristled themselves up like stiff warriors arrayed in steel, their armor making a clanking sound when the cold winds whistled by; and the sycamores, with their little dependent balls, looked like christmas trees hung with bon-bons and confectionery for good children. every stray leaf that had resisted the storms of winter, every seed-vessel upon the shrubs, shone with beauty; the ground was one glittering sheet, like a mirror; the sky was of a deep blue, washed from all impurities, and the sun smiled down upon the beautiful earth, like a crowned king upon his bride, decked with sparkling diamonds. it was one of nature's gala-days, in which she appears to invite all her children to be happy; one of those scenes which forbid us to call winter a dreary time, and which outshine in brilliancy all the verdure of the tropics. at any time we enjoy the clear sky after a sullen rain, or a driving, impetuous storm, and young people especially feel the truth and beauty of solomon's expression, "truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun;" but when, in addition, such a spectacle as this is presented to those long pent up within city walls, how does the heart swell with rapture! no introduction at court, no coronation, no theatrical exhibition, can for a moment compare with it in splendor; nature has shows more beautiful by far than any that man can produce, and all she asks for in exchange is the seeing eye and the feeling heart. truly, the best gifts of heaven to man are free and universal, bestowed without money and without price, and maybe enjoyed by the penniless as well as by the millionaire, if the spirit be only opened to the impressions of happiness they were intended to convey--the good god is daily blessing and feasting his creatures with impartial liberality. what exclamations of delight were heard in the grange when the fairy scene was first beheld! every room in the house was visited, to see which presented the finest prospect, and soon, with feet well provided with gum-elastics, and with old-fashioned socks, still better preservatives from falling, all sallied forth to enjoy the spectacle more fully. the clear sky and the keen air raised their spirits, and an occasional slip and tumble was only an additional provocative to laughter; youth and health, and merry hearts, that had never yet tasted of sorrow, made life appear to them, not a desert, not a valley of tears, as it is felt by many to be, but a paradise of sweets, a joyful festival. to combine duty and pleasure, mrs. wyndham proposed that they should bend their steps to the humble home of mrs. norton, the poor widow for whom their fingers had been so busily plying the preceding day. accordingly, laden with bundles, and with a basket of comforts which would prove very acceptable to a sick person, they walked towards her little cottage. the boys, after a private consultation, declared that they did not intend to allow the girls to do all the charitable, and that they wished to invest some of their surplus christmas cash in a pair of large warm blankets, for the widow's benefit. their aunt heartily approved of the suggestion, and all agreed that a far better interest would accrue from a capital so laid up, than from shares taken in the confectioner's or the toymaker's stock; and the walk was considerably prolonged by a visit to the country store, where the desired purchases were made. joy lighted up the sick woman's eyes when she saw this unexpected provision for her wants, and witnessed the kindly interest of the young people of the grange: she thanked them with few words, but with overflowing eyes and heart. she was an interesting woman, kind and motherly, and looked as if she had seen better days: her little black-eyed children also were well trained, with manners much superior to their station. one little girl of about twelve attracted mrs. wyndham's particular notice; she appeared to have installed herself into the office of chief nurse, and the younger children seemed to look to her for help and advice: when not engaged in waiting upon them or the sick mother, she seated herself near the window, busily occupied with a piece of needlework. she was a very pretty child, of fair complexion and deep blue eyes, with the beseeching look that you sometimes see in the young face, when trouble and hard treatment have too early visited the little heart--like an untimely frost, nipping the tender blossoms of spring. sad indeed it is to see that look in childhood, when, under the sheltering wings of parents and friends, the body and mind should expand together in an atmosphere of love and gentleness--such is the great creator's will. mrs. wyndham observed to her mother, "that oldest child of yours does not resemble you and the other children." the sick woman smiled: "no, ma'am, she is an adopted child, although i love margaret as much as any of my other children." "indeed! with so many little ones, could you take another?" "yes, ma'am, she was thrown into our keeping by providence, at a time when we wanted nothing; my husband was then living, and in excellent business as a saddler, and we enjoyed every comfort. times are now sadly changed, but margaret shall share our last crust; but indeed she is our main stay--i should be obliged to give up entirely, and perhaps to go to the almshouse, if it were not for her help." "i am glad to see that she makes herself so useful; is she any relation to you?" "none at all. i will tell you her story, if you will hear it, some time when we are alone: it is rather a long one." the young people left mrs. wyndham still conversing with mrs. norton, and returned homeward. after tea, various games amused the fleeting hours, and among them "proverbs" was played as follows: while one is absent from the circle, all fix upon some well-known old saw or proverb; the absentee then returns and asks a question of every individual, to which an answer must be returned, embracing some one word of the sentence, care being taken not to emphasize it. the first proverb was this: "when the cat's away, the mice will play." cornelia had been out of the room. "cousin mary, didn't you enjoy the clear-up to-day?" "yes, _when_ it clears after a storm, one always does." "charlie, are you tired from your long walk this morning?" "o no, _the_ day was so fine, _the_ walk so pleasant, and _the_ company so agreeable, that i did not feel _the_ fatigue." "ellen, didn't you pity poor mrs. norton?" "yes, and i pitied her _cats_, they looked so thin." "cats! i thought she had only one. cats? hum! tom, don't you hope we'll have a story to-night?" "yes, i enjoy it vastly, and will take care not to be _away_ when it's told." "gertrude, don't you think _the mice will play_ to-night?" "yes--but from whom did you take the idea? who let that cat out of the bag?" "ellen, to be sure, with her plural number for mrs. norton's cat, which does not look starved at all--so go into the hall, miss ellen, while we think of a proverb." "let's have 'it is more blessed to give than to receive,'" said amy, "i thought of that to-day at mrs. norton's." "very well, that will do. come in, ellen; cornelia will bring in the first two words, as they are small." "cornelia, have you finished your crochet purse?" "_it is_ almost done." "amy, are you not almost roasted in that hot corner of the chimney?" "it would be _more_ pleasant further from the fire." "george, you are so fond of skating, don't you hope to enjoy the sport to-morrow?" "yes indeed--i think we'll have a _blessed_ cold night, and then we'll have skating." "john, how many miles did you walk to-day?" "_two_," said john. "that's not fair! that's not fair!" cried some of the younger children. however, it was agreed that playing upon words, where the sound was the same, was quite allowable. "tom, do you like to ask questions?" "yes, i like to _give_ a question to be answered." "aunt lucy, what shall be our story to-night?" "that is more easy to ask _than_ to answer." "charlie, are you fond of mince-pie?" "yes, and of cherry pie _too_." "alice, are you not almost tired of this game?" "yes, i'd _receive_ pleasure from a change." "let me see--george's _blessed_, and john's _two_--blessed too--oh, i know, 'it is more blessed to give than to receive.' now let's play 'twenty questions.'" "how is that played? it is quite a new game to me." "it used to be a favorite game in distinguished circles in england; canning, the celebrated minister, was very fond of it; and it really requires some knowledge and skill in the lawyer-like craft of cross-examination, to play it well--so have your wits about you, young people, for the more ready you are, the better you'll like it. one person thinks of a thing, and by a skillful questioning on the part of one, two, or the whole party, as you prefer it, your thought can always be found out. twenty questions and three guesses are allowed. if cornelia will think of something, i'll discover what it is, to show you how it is played." "i have a thought," said cornelia, "but you never can find it out." "we'll see: does it belong to the animal, vegetable, mineral, or spiritual kingdoms?" "the animal." "is it biped or quadruped, fish, flesh, fowl, or insect?" "biped." "man, monkey, or bird?" "bird." "wild or tame?" "tame." "is it the species you think of, or one individual of it?" "one particular individual." "is it used for the table?" "the species is--but i doubt that this individual was ever used for food." "did this bird live in ancient or modern times--before or after the christian era?" "very ancient; before the christian era." "does this ancient bird belong to the goose, duck, chicken, peacock, or turkey tribe?" "turkey." "was it very thin?" "very, indeed--to a proverb." "job's turkey?" "you've guessed it, and with ten questions too. now you can think, ellen, and the rest of us will question you, in turn." "i have a thought," said ellen. "treasure it then," said charlie bolton; "thoughts are very rare things with me. animal, vegetable, mineral, or spiritual?" "vegetable." "in its natural or prepared state?" "natural." "is it the whole, or only a part of the plant?" "a part." "is it a part of a tree, a shrub, a vine, or is it of the grass kind?" "a vine." "is it the root, stem, leaf, flower, or fruit?" "fruit." "is it used for food?" "the species is--this one was not." "is this fruit pulpy like the grape, or mealy like the bean?" "mealy like the bean." "is it a bean?" "yes--that's one guess." "was this bean an ancient or modern one?" "very ancient." "i know!" cried amy; "it was the bean jack the giant killer planted, which grew up to the moon in one night, and fastened itself round one of the horns." "you are right--eight questions and two guesses; that's pretty well. now, amy, 'tis your turn to think." "i have a thought." "animal, vegetable, or mineral?" "animal." "quadruped or biped, fish, snake, or insect?" "none of these; it is the production of a biped." "in its natural or prepared state?" "natural--but a slight alteration was made in its shape at the time to which i refer." "what time is it--before or after the christian era?" "after." "before or after the year ?" "very much about that time." "had it any thing to do with columbus?" "yes; at least columbus had something to do with it." "was it columbus' egg?" "the very thing. and now, shall we not vary the scene by having a story?" "agreed, we are all ready to listen; but who shall tell the tale?" "it is alice's turn; and do give us a ghost story, for once, a nice frightful one that will make our teeth chatter and our hair stand on end--do, alice!" "i'm afraid you'll be disappointed, but i'll tell you some sort of a tale, and hope that you will make allowances for a young beginner. i'm no scheherezade." "no _what_?" said amy. "is it possible you have not read the arabian nights? scheherezade was the princess who saved her life by telling such interesting stories; the tyrant of a sultan intended to put her to death in the morning, but she left off in such an important part of her tale, that his curiosity led him to spare her head till she had finished the narrative. of course she took good care to tell what the sailors call 'long yarns,' and the sultan found out he could not live without her to divert him." the spectre of alcantra, or the conde's daughters. a spanish tale. the conde de alcantra was a spanish nobleman, universally esteemed by those who knew him, as a man of high honor and moral worth. in person he was tall, dark, and commanding, in manner grave and dignified. the grandee of spain is never one with whom you feel inclined to take a liberty, but the noble conde was uncommonly reserved and serious, even sad, in the expression of his countenance. he was a widower, with two lovely children, daughters, of the ages of sixteen and eighteen. clara, the elder, a very handsome girl, strikingly resembled her father in appearance, save that a bright, hopeful, energetic spirit was displayed in her face and in almost every motion. magdalena, the younger, and the cherished darling of both father and sister, scarcely looked as if she belonged to the same family: she inherited from her mother the transparent, delicate complexion, azure eyes, and fair, clustering curls, sometimes seen in spain and italy, and always so highly prized from their rarity. gentleness, and an up-looking for love and protection, were the characteristics both of her face and mind; and doubtless her timidity and dependence upon others was much fostered by the loving cares and constant vigilance of her father. their ordinary residence was in madrid, where the conde was much engaged in affairs of state; his strict integrity, political wisdom, and fidelity in the discharge of duty, caused business of the highest moment to be committed to him by his sovereign. but, as is only too frequently the case, public cares engrossed him to the detriment of his private concerns, and some little entanglements in money matters made him resolve to look more closely into his account books, and see where the difficulty lay. it was certainly surprising, that the hereditary estates which brought in so large an income till within fifteen years, had so unaccountably decreased in value, and that the castellan, or mayordomo, who managed them, was continually complaining of the difficulty he found in raising from the peasantry the comparatively small sums he yearly transmitted to his master. but so it was: and although the conde carried his confidence in his dependents, and his easiness of disposition, to such an extent as almost to become a fault, yet as he examined the accounts of some years' standing, a strong suspicion arose in his mind that somehow he had been most egregiously cheated, and that while he had so skilfully managed the finances of the country as almost to double her revenues, he himself had been as completely managed by a cunning knave. being a kind and a just man, he was anxious not to run the risk of wronging a faithful servant, who was always profuse in expressions of attachment to the family, and he determined to keep his suspicions within his own breast, until he had given the matter a personal investigation. great was the astonishment and delight of clara and her sister when he announced to them his intention of paying a visit to the castle of alcantra. it was there that magdalena first saw the light, and it was there that her mother closed her eyes upon the world, leaving her husband almost distracted; he immediately removed with his little children from the scene of this great affliction. it was soon after this sad event that the old and faithful mayordomo died; he had long been intrusted with the entire control of the estate, and was greatly beloved by his fellow-servants and by the peasantry. the conde gave orders that the sub-steward, who had lately come into his service, and who was acquainted with the duties of the office, should take his vacant place; his feelings were at that time too much engrossed with his recent loss to institute the proper inquiries into his character and capabilities, and from that time it was that, from some cause, either from misfortune, negligence, or corruption, the entanglement of his affairs was to be dated. the conde had never before been willing to revisit the castle; and his daughters, with the ardent curiosity of youth, longed to behold the place in which a long line of their ancestors had lived, and eagerly availed themselves of his invitation to accompany him. their imaginations were fired by all they had heard of the old chateau; and the ruinous condition into which it had fallen of late years, only added fuel to the flame. clara remembered, or fancied that she remembered, a vast dark building, with huge towers and buttresses; she often tried to picture to her mind the home of her infancy, and to describe it to magdalena, but these vague remembrances were all that she could recall. don alonzo informed his daughters that the journey was to be commenced on the morrow, without much preparation, or any thing like an ostentatious style of travelling; they themselves would set out in the old family coach, accompanied by his secretary, señor roberto, and would be followed by another carriage containing their maid, fernando, his valet, and anselmo, a trusty servant. he intended to take with them a supply of comforts indispensable to persons of their condition, as it was probable that the castle might be destitute of them, having so long been without the presence of its master; and this was the more needful, as the castellan had received no intimation of the proposed visit. on the following morning they set out: the castle of alcantra was situated in the north of spain, among the wildest mountains, and as they travelled onward, scenery of the most diversified kind passed before their eyes. it was the time of the vintage; and the noble peasants of castile, in their picturesque costume, came homeward laden with the rich purple grapes, singing the romantic lays of love and chivalry, which have passed down from one generation to another. the ballads of the cid, and the laments of the moors, formed the chief burden of their song. every now and then they could distinguish some well-known passage in "admiral guarinos," "baviaca," or "don roderick," or that sad-chorus, which sounds like a moorish sigh, "woe is me, alhama!" at sunset, they would see the peasants seated at the doors of their cottages, cheerfully feasting upon bread and fruit, varied by the light wine of the country, preserved in goat-skins, as it is in the east: one leg of the skin forms the mouth of the bottle; and they noticed, what is generally reported by travellers, that even in this time of rejoicing, intoxication was nowhere to be witnessed. many were the groups they met dancing upon the grass by the light of the moon; and a pleasant thing it was to see the white-haired grandsire looking on, and occasionally joining the merry band of his descendants in innocent sport and festivity, keeping a young heart under the weight of years. clara and magdalena were particularly struck by the native grace displayed by the youths and maidens in the bolero, a dance originally introduced by the moors: with castanets in their hands, accompanying their steps with unpremeditated music, they would alternately advance and retreat, fly and pursue, until, exhausted by the exercise, they would rest upon the rustic bench or the green bank, and while away the hours with song and guitar. what noble-looking men are the peasants of spain! every one of them, from the dignity of his deportment, might well pass for a hidalgo in disguise; and the feeling of self-respect is so common, that it has passed into a proverb among the people that they are "as good gentlemen as the king, only not so rich." proud and independent, and jealous of any encroachment upon their rights, they are yet scrupulously polite to others, and pay marked attention to strangers. while in italy the foreigner will meet with imposition at every step, the spaniard disdains to take advantage of his ignorance, and the significant reply, "señor, i am a spaniard," is sufficient answer to any suspicion of meanness or duplicity. their tall, manly forms, wrapped in the ample cloak which the spaniard wears with unequalled grace, their oval faces, dark complexions, and flashing eyes, make them most interesting features in the landscape. probably in no country does man, in the humbler walks of life, appear so universally clothed with the majesty suitable to his rank as lord of the creation, as he does in spain. as they travelled through castile, the scene was occasionally varied by meeting a band of strolling gitanas, or gipsies, whose swarthy hue, slender forms, and wild appearance, clearly pointed out their foreign origin; of course, they were anxious to tell the fortunes of the beautiful señoritas, and on one occasion their father consented to gratify their curiosity. but he repented of his compliance, when he heard the woman predict to the timid and somewhat superstitious magdalena, a speedy and imminent danger as about to befall her, and he noticed with concern the changing color with which she heard these hints of peril: but clara, whose fearless and joyful spirit could not be daunted by such prophecies, soon laughed the roses back again into her sister's cheeks, and made the wrinkled hag retreat, full of rage at her incredulity. they also met some of those immense flocks of sheep, which form such an important item in the national wealth of spain, and which are led southward early in the autumn, to enjoy the rich pasture grounds of estremadura and andalusia. as they proceeded towards the north, the country became more rugged and mountainous, and changes in the costume of the peasantry showed that they had passed into another province: the black velvet cap of the castilian, ever worn so as to display to advantage his noble, lofty forehead, was replaced by one of woollen material, of a brilliant red, long, and hanging down behind. the scenery every moment became more grand and sublime, and the young girls, who had spent their lives chiefly in madrid, were full of delight and admiration. "how can people live in the city," they exclaimed, "when such a free and happy life is before them? how can they prefer brick and stone to the everlasting hills, the soft green turf, and the majestic forests? here, you can really behold the sky, with its beautiful fleecy clouds, ever changing in shape and hue, and you can see the starry universe spread out before you; there, you can perhaps catch a glimpse of a few stars, and a small piece of a cloud, but the rest is hidden by dead walls. in the city, our time is taken up, and our hearts are frozen, by ceremonious visits, stately dinners, and the rules of etiquette; here, in the country, a real, true life could be spent, free from insincerity and busy idleness. dear father, will you not give up your offices at court, and live henceforth at alcantra?" their father smiled at their enthusiasm, and felt himself almost rejuvenated, as he listened to their raptures, flowing fresh from young and ardent hearts; but told them that they had not yet seen their ancestral castle, and that perhaps their expectations might be grievously disappointed; he would wait until they had spent some time there, before he gave them his answer. as they approached the termination of their journey, the country became yet wilder, and the villages were more thinly scattered; while here and there a wooden cross appeared upon the roadside, with some simple inscription, calculated to inspire terror in proportion to its very simplicity. "here they killed iago," or "here the robbers killed señor jose blanco." they noticed, on their last day of travel, when they had entered into the territory of the conde, that the roadside crosses became more frequent, and the cottages of the peasantry assumed a look of poverty they certainly did not bear in former times, when the lords of the manor resided upon their estate, and were able to see to the welfare of the people. when they entered the little inn of the village of alcantra, about four miles from the castle, the garrulous old landlord greeted the conde most warmly. "and a good thing it is for the country that your excellencia has returned once more to his estates. now we may hope to have a little peace; now the peasants will not be ground down to the dust, as they have been; now some villanous upstarts i know of, will not dare to ride over them rough-shod, and to treat them as if they were beasts of the field. viva! viva! the illustrious conde has returned!" the count was much affected by the representations of this man, whom he knew to be an honest and worthy fellow, and was full of regret for what he now felt to be criminal negligence on his own part; and promised him that full investigations should take place, and that perfect justice should be done. the innkeeper asked him if his servants were well armed; "for," said he, "the nearness of the castle is no protection to you from robbery. many travellers have left this inn, in high health and spirits, and with trunks laden with merchandise, but have never arrived at their destinations. the road is, as you well know, rough and precipitous, over-hung by huge rocks and dark forests, and the banditti have taken up their quarters somewhere in this neighborhood, though where it is none can discover. many murders have been committed here, and many a poor fellow lies buried in unconsecrated ground, heaven have mercy on their souls! but the murderers have never yet been caught. it is not thought that the band can be a large one, but they are very daring; it is now more safe than usual, for an atrocious murder occurred a few miles from this place within the last week, and a company of soldiers is expected here every moment; they will stay a week, and will try to capture them, but unless the saints defend us, and all the martyrs, heaven only knows what will become of us all." don alonzo assured him that he feared nothing, as including the coachmen they were six well-armed men, upon every one of whom he could entirely depend. "and," said he, smiling, "if matters come to a bad pass, i could count upon my daughter here, my brave clara, as my seventh soldier; i have taught her to fire a pistol without shrieking, and to hit the mark, too, and with her protection magdalena and i need fear nothing." after this conversation, it is not wonderful that all were on the qui vive as they ascended the mountain road leading to the castle of alcantra. magdalena started at every sound, and even clara, fearless as she was, felt relieved when she saw the lofty turrets and extensive battlements she had dimly remembered, spreading out before her, their dark outline relieved against the blue sky. if the approach was romantic and alarming, it was a good preparation to their minds for the castle itself; it was built in the times of feudal power and intestine wars, and its massive walls had well performed their part in the defence of its inmates during many sieges. and yet, strong as it was, and built, as it appeared, for eternity, a portion of this noble structure was going to decay; one wing had been very much battered in the last siege it had sustained, and the cannon-balls had done the work of centuries; but the main building looked very imposing, as if able to resist the lapse of ages, and appeared, from its elevation, to frown down upon intruders, and to scorn the very idea of danger. it was exactly such a place as was calculated to fire the imaginations and to win the hearts of young girls, brought up in a gay metropolis, from the very contrast to all they had ever seen before; there was a romance about its very gloom that was attractive to them. associated as it was with much historic interest, and with many family traditions, they had ardently longed to behold it, and now that they saw it rise, in its dark grandeur, before them, they acknowledged that their expectations were more than realized. there were no signs of life to be seen about the castle, and it was long before the loud, imperious knocking at the gate-way brought any one to open it; and then a man appeared, whose hesitating manner and vacant countenance plainly showed that he had never been gifted with a large share of mother-wit. with some difficulty he was made to understand that the party had a right to admittance, and the carriages entered within the courtyard. the rest of the household was by this time aware of an unusual arrival, and came forward to receive them; but it was very evident that their visit was not only unexpected, but undesired, although the castellan and his wife strove very hard to throw into their hard, dark countenances, an expression of welcome. señor don juan baptista--so was the castellan called--was a man of most repellant countenance; his eye had a sinister, cunning look, and there was something in his large, shaggy, overhanging brow, that was really appalling; it was to be supposed that he had now put on his most amiable expression, but unless his face greatly belied him, fierce, ungoverned passions were accustomed to rule his being. his wife, francisca, had one of those countenances that appear to dare you to find them out: hard, silent, and sullen, she looked as if the rack itself could not force her to speak unless she willed it; and her face reminded you constantly of a _wooden mask_, which not even the strongest emotions could make transparent, and allow you to catch a glimpse of the soul behind. both were loud in their expressions of regret that their dear lord and the sweet, beautiful señoritas had not let them know, beforehand, of their visit, that they might have had things more fit for their reception; the castle was rather disarranged, and not anticipating this honor, they had allowed most of the servants to depart, to enjoy a holiday for a few weeks--their household was at present very small. don alonzo cut short their apologies by telling them that he had attendants with him sufficient to supply the wants of himself and his daughters, although it was certainly unfortunate that it should have occurred just at this juncture; and entering the castle, he tenderly embraced clara and magdalena, welcoming them to their ancestral home. the girls almost shuddered, as they gazed upon the the huge hall, with its lofty carved ceiling, and its dark oak panelling. in ancient times, when it was crowded by armed retainers, or echoed to the joyful chorus of the feast and the minstrel's song, it must have been admirably suited to its purpose; but now it looked solitary and desolate, like a fit abode for the owl and the raven. at one end, a wide, substantial stone staircase led to the upper regions of the castle, branching off above in many directions; a long oak-table, capable of accommodating more than a hundred guests, extended for some distance along the hall, but it was scarcely noticed in the vast apartment. a large chimney, surrounded by stone settles, and richly ornamented with curious antique carving, formed a prominent feature in it; the tapestry on the wall, from which hunters and grim warriors appeared to look down upon our little party with surprise and displeasure, hung loosely, in many places was completely tattered, and waved in the wind as the keen air of the mountains whistled through, making clara and magdalena shiver with cold. don alonzo looked round with concern; "it is indeed many years since i have been here," said he, "and things look considerably altered; but now, my daughters, let me advise you, with the aid of your waiting-woman, to make yourselves as comfortable as possible in your own rooms, and meanwhile señor baptista will be kind enough to have a large fire built in the hall, for it will really prove very acceptable." francisca showed them to their rooms: large, magnificent chambers, fitted up with massive furniture of the richest description; but the tapestry was faded and worn, and every thing showed neglect and desertion. francisca, after escorting them to these apartments, told them that she would send maria, the housemaid, to make up fires, bring water, and provide every thing else that they wished, but the girl was always out of the way when she was wanted, and was really not worth the salt she ate. maria speedily appeared, however: a pale young girl of dejected aspect, with black hair drawn off from a forehead of marble whiteness, and large, sad eyes cast upon the ground. her appearance greatly interested the kind feelings of clara and magdalena; she looked sorrowful and reserved, as if her heart had been chilled, and her spirit broken by harsh treatment; and the girls, who were very much of her own age, felt an instinctive pity, and resolved to win her confidence. they learned by their questions that she was an orphan, and had been brought up in the castle. she had never known any other home, and had no relations in the world, so it was not wonderful that she appeared unhappy. as their maid appeared to be quite unwell from the journey, they dispensed with any further services from her for the day, and descended to the hall. its aspect was considerably changed by a large, sparkling fire which blazed upon the hearth; and, after supper, don alonzo and his daughters drew around it, with a feeling of comfort they had not experienced since they had entered the castle. as the conde wished to discover the character of the castellan as much as possible from personal observation, he ordered him to be sent for, and invited him to a seat with them by the fire; and they were soon engaged in interesting conversation. señor baptista was undoubtedly a person of quick intelligence, and endowed with the gift of imparting a vivid, dramatic interest to any narrative: he told several ancient legends connected with the castle, in such a manner as to enchain the attention of his hearers. one story excited the deepest interest in magdalena: we will call it doÑa inez; or the castellan's tale. several centuries ago, as my lord the conde and the noble señoritas very well know, this castle was in the possession of an older branch of the alcantra family, long since extinct; and at that time the lord of the manor was a certain don pedro, a dark, stern man, whose portrait, clad in armor, the señoritas may see on the morrow in the old picture-gallery. don pedro was a man of unflinching bravery, and indomitable will; his word was law. his vassals obeyed his very looks, and flew to execute his behests. accustomed from infancy to command, he became absolute and tyrannical; his gentle wife was all submission, and his fair daughter inez was educated in the practice of the strictest obedience, so as scarcely to know that she had a mind of her own, when her father was nigh. is it wonderful that when the unnatural constraint was removed by his absence, her innate gayety of disposition broke out with all the impulsiveness of youth, and her young affections clung to the nearest object? such an object was found in bernardo, a handsome and noble young man, an orphan, and distant relative, who had been reared in the castle: he had been the playmate of inez in childhood; her comforter, companion, and teacher in girlhood; and now, as she advanced to woman's estate, they made the discovery that their hearts were knit together by a love which had grown with their growth and strengthened with their strength, till it had become a part of their very souls. but how dare to reveal their affection? bernardo, although of noble lineage, and in himself every thing that the fondest father could desire for his daughter, had his fortune yet to win by his good sword; and inez was heiress to broad lands, and might well aspire to a princely alliance. but love scorns all such distinctions: humble thoughts of herself, and proud thoughts of her bernardo, filled the heart of inez, and as she plighted her troth to him, she vowed she would wed none but him, and would patiently wait until the time should come when her betrothed could claim her as his own. bernardo went to the wars, and greatly distinguished himself against the moors: ferdinand conferred upon him various marks of favor, and the noble and lovely queen isabel girded on the sword presented by the king with her own jewelled fingers. and now, with a heart beating high with hope, and with the prospect of great advancement before him, the young man returned to visit the home of his childhood: it was his purpose, with the sweetness of a few weeks' holiday, to repay himself for all the toils, dangers, and privations of a year. but when he arrived, how changed was the whole aspect of the castle! inez was in disgrace, and was ordered by her tyrannical father to be shut up in her room, and to be fed with the bread of affliction and the water of humiliation. bernardo was deeply distressed: he at length succeeded, through the pity of the servants, in obtaining an interview, and the poor girl, weeping upon his breast, where she had so often been comforted before, told him the sad tale of her trials. soon after he had left, a noble marquis, of great wealth, had made overtures for her hand, which don pedro, without consulting her, had at once accepted, and promised that within a year the bridal feast should be celebrated. when he informed his daughter of her fate, she besought him with tears not to send her from her home; but his only reply was that the matter was determined, and that all she had to do was to submit and to prepare for the wedding. dreading as she did her father's wrath, she dreaded yet more this hateful, compulsory marriage, and kneeling down at his feet, with streaming eyes, she prayed him in the humblest manner to spare his only child; she could never survive the union--it would break her heart--she was young, and wished still to remain for some years under the paternal roof. but tears and entreaties were unavailing. don pedro commanded her, in the most peremptory manner, to obey. rising, with a dignity and composure of manner he had never seen in her before, for she had ever appeared in his presence only a timid and frightened child, she professed her readiness to make his will her law in every other point; she would serve him like a slave, die for him; she would never marry against his wishes, but would ever strive to approve herself a dutiful daughter. but in this point she must imitate his own firmness, and prove herself his child; a vow was upon her soul that she must not break, and she could not, she would not, marry the marquis de oviedo. as she stood there, so young and so determined, with all the pride of her race and all the dignity of womanhood rising up to aid the true love which beat in her heart, even her father was struck with admiration, and for a moment hesitated. but vindictive passion triumphed over better feelings, and he ordered her to be placed in her chamber, under strict confinement. once a month, since then, had he visited her apartment, to ask her if she were now ready to yield her submission; and, upon her reply that she would rather die than wed the marquis de oviedo, with an angry scowl he would leave her room. poor inez looked thin and care-worn, but was greatly comforted by seeing her betrothed; and they agreed that it was better, whatever the consequences might be, to inform her father of their engagement, and to endeavor to mollify his heart. as bernardo had returned from the wars with such distinction, he had some slight hope that the crime of loving don pedro's daughter might possibly be forgiven. they were still engaged in these discussions, when the door opened, and don pedro appeared; his face was wild with passion, black with rage. he roughly snatched doña inez from the arms of her lover, to whom she clung with all the energy of despair, as the shipwrecked mariner holds fast to the mast or beam which is his only hope of safety, or even to the anchor which will surely sink him to the lowest depths. turning to his followers, who were trained to obey his every command without a question, he ordered them to convey don bernardo to the deepest dungeon of the castle, and to chain him to the wall; and then to bring the key to him. doña inez, in a phrensy of terror, knelt at his feet, and begged that all his anger might be visited upon her; but spurning her from him, he told her that she should feel enough of it yet, and need pray for no more--he had a punishment still in store for her, and in due time she should realize what it was to defy his power. he left her in a swoon, and did not see her again until after ten days, when he entered her apartment, and grimly smiling, commanded her to accompany him, as he wished to conduct her to her lover; adding, with a peculiar look, that if it were her wish, as he was all devotion to her slightest whim, he would never henceforth separate them. scarcely knowing what to think, but dreading the worst from the ironical tone of mock gallantry with which he spoke, she followed him with faltering steps, a vague terror dimming her eyes and chilling her heart. he led her through many winding passages, opening heavy iron gates, until they at length reached the deep dungeons which are found beneath this castle. there, in a damp cell, heavily chained to the wall, she beheld, by the light of the torch don pedro carried, her own bernardo! but, oh, how changed! how emaciated! he seemed to be asleep. her father told her to awake him; she took his hand, but started back--that icy touch had told her all--he was dead, starved to death by her own father! that moment reason forsook the agonized mind of doña inez; the vaults were filled with her shrieks, and so awful was the spectacle of her despair, that even her father was terrified. he tried to soothe her, but it was too late; he carried her back again to her room, a raving maniac. a brain fever ensued, of the most violent description; and happily for the distracted girl, in a few days she was released by death from all her sufferings. and now it was that, in the consequences of his own actions, don pedro found his punishment; as he witnessed the agony of his afflicted daughter, as he heard her ravings, as he saw her toss her white arms and pitifully cry out for bernardo, or tear her long, black, dishevelled tresses, horror and despair filled his heart. his conscience, so long torpid, at length awoke, and remorse preyed upon his soul like a vulture. and when he beheld that form, lately so lovely and blooming, stretched out, pale and motionless, upon the bed of death, anguish seized upon him to such a degree that, rushing into his own chamber, he put a period to his miserable existence. queen isabella, when she heard the particulars of these tragical events, ordered the lovers to be interred within one tomb; the señoritas may see it in the old chapel, in the north-east corner--their effigies are on the top, carved in marble, with clasped hands, with this inscription: amor morte, or love in death. the old branch being now extinct, having, as it were, burnt itself out with its fiery passions, the estates passed into the hands of your honorable ancestry; may it remain in the family for a thousand years! but my tale is not yet done--would that it were! there would be more peace in this castle if this were the case! for people do say that don pedro cannot rest, even in purgatory. i am not one at all given to credulity, and it takes something to startle me; but i must own that i would never willingly be found in the old parts of the castle after nightfall. i myself have seen strange lights and startling forms, and have heard noises for which i could not account, groans, and shrieks, and the clanking of chains. none of the peasants in the neighborhood will venture here after night; and the servants can scarcely be induced to stay in, what they call, the haunted castle. the story runs, that about midnight don pedro begins his peregrinations, clad in armor, as he is represented in his portrait; in one hand he bears a flaming torch; in the other a large bunch of keys, and a chain which trails upon the ground. he has been seen bearing in his arms a female form, clad in white, with long black hair streaming to the wind, tossing her arms in wild despair, and uttering piteous cries. it is thought that his punishment consists in nightly visits to the cell in which bernardo died, and nightly endurance of the sight of his daughter's anguish; some also say that the skeleton of his victim is presented to his eyes, beaming with light, and that every ray eats into his soul like a canker. i do not answer for all these tales, but this is the universal belief. i merely relate to your favors the common talk of the peasantry, ever given to superstition. "i dimly remember hearing some such story in my childhood, from the old castellan, from whom, i suppose, you have received the legend," said the conde; "but old don pedro never walked in my day, and if he does now, his conscience must have become more tender with the lapse of years. cheer up, magdalena, light of my eyes! you look quite pale from this horrible tale. i'll answer for it that don pedro will not appear to you; if he does, i'll settle his uneasy spirit for him. surely, you do not believe in ghosts? you are not so weak?" "no, dear father; i know that it cannot be; and yet i own to feeling some nervousness on the subject. much as i long to live here, if i thought there were any truth in such a spectral appearance, i would beg you to leave to-morrow." "that would be a sad loss to this castle, señorita," said baptista, furtively glancing at her pallid face from under his shaggy eyebrows. "we must hope that don pedro may not walk to-night." "another romantic tale is told about a daughter of our house," said don alonzo, wishing to draw off magdalena'a thoughts from the subject which filled them. "if you feel inclined to hear it, i will relate it." "nothing would be more pleasant," said the girls, who delighted in these traditions. doÑa isabel, or the secret passage. about a hundred and fifty years ago, when our branch had been long-established at alcantra, there flourished here a certain don alphonso, who also had a beautiful daughter, isabel by name. her portrait hangs in the gallery, and is remarkable for a sweet bravery of look, and for a merry, piquant glance of her black eye, which i greatly admired when a young man, and of which i have been often reminded when i looked at my clara. i think, my daughters, that you will agree with me in seeing a strong resemblance in person, as i also do in character; you can judge of that as my story proceeds. and by the way, clara mia, tradition gives the room you occupy to the lady isabel; it has ever since been called doña isabel's chamber; so, when lying upon her bed to-night, you can dream of your fair predecessor. her father, also, was rather fond of having his own way, and in this the daughter fully sympathized with him; it is said to be a characteristic of our race, so we had better call this obstinacy a noble firmness, and thereby save our self-love. don alphonso, however, was not quite such a bloody-minded tyrant as don pedro: how could he be, as he was one of our ancestors? the matter is clearly impossible. and i wish you to notice, my daughters, how, with the lapse of years, the race of fathers improves: beginning with a murderous don pedro, a self-willed don alphonso then walks upon the stage; and lastly, as a perfect specimen of a dutiful, obsequious papa, behold me, ladies--at your feet! i have told you that isabel had a mind of her own; she showed it very plainly by falling in love in a most unorthodox, unfilial, enthusiastic sort of way--with whom? you will be so shocked, my daughters, that i almost dread to tell you. if she had waited, like a dutiful child, till her father had told her she _might_ love, it would have been another thing! but this headstrong girl seemed to think she had as good a right to be happy in her own way as a peasant! true, the man of her choice was not a reprobate: he was not even a low-born, unmannerly churl: don fernando de velasquez stood foremost among the young cavaliers of spain, in gallantry and in that nobility of mind which, should ever accompany gentle birth. but yet it was in that very gentle birth that all the offence lay, for fernando's ancestors had long been at enmity with the house of alcantra, and this ancient feud had been embittered by years. but, sometimes, there appears to be a fate in the affairs of men, especially when a woman, and a pretty woman, is in question: so it happened that don fernando was, one day, riding at some distance from his home, when his good fortune enabled him to rescue a lady, whose horse, frightened by some object in the road, reared and plunged in a most alarming manner. it was doña isabel, who had out-ridden her attendants, and who now felt that she owed her life to this very handsome, polite, and noble-looking cavalier. could he do less than soothe her fluttered nerves, guide her horse, and make himself as agreeable as possible? could she do less than feel ardently grateful, and manifest it in every look and accent? very improper it was, certainly, as i said before, for a daughter to think of a young man until her parents' permission is given; but i have heard of one or two other instances in which this occurred; and before either made the discovery who the agreeable companion was, when, of course, if they were dutiful, antagonism and animosity would have filled their bosoms, they were both unmistakably, undeniably, desperately in love! is it wonderful that don fernando escorted her to the gate of the castle? or that proud don alphonso did not invite him in, notwithstanding his daughter's imploring looks, even after he had heard from her lips of her deliverance? are my daughters very much astonished that little perfumed notes, exquisitely written, doubtless with little kissing doves stamped in the corners, and signed 'yours till death,' passed between the two castles? there was a prodigious waste of sentiment on the occasion, quite enough to set up twenty pairs of well-behaved, proper, respectable lovers. it came to such a pass that fernando declared, and i believe the fellow was in earnest, that existence would be intolerable to him unless he could meet his isabel; and the lady, although feeling some qualms of conscience about the matter, agreed to see him daily, when the evening star rose in the sky. so, while her poor old father--good easy man! thought that his daughter was in her chamber, or piously engaged in the oratory saying her _ave marias_ and _pater nosters_, and singing a vesper hymn to the virgin, the naughty girl had gone by a secret passage underground to a wood at some distance, where she met her betrothed. this passage is said to begin in one of the chambers of the castle, and winding along in the wall, to proceed downward towards the dungeons underground, and then to pass away to the wood already mentioned. it was originally intended, no doubt, as a means of escape, or of communication with the outer world, in case of a siege; but, at that time, it had almost passed into oblivion. after the events i am relating, the outlet into the wood was stopped up, and where the passage is to be found no one knows: so that if clara wishes to imitate the conduct of her beautiful kinswoman, and to arrange clandestine meetings, she will have to spoil the romance of the proceeding by quietly walking through the open gate. but at length, some prying eyes found out these nocturnal interviews, and great was the rage of don alphonso. the lovers were seized, brought back in tribulation to the castle, and imprisoned, one in her chamber, the other in a dungeon. but love finds many devices: whether it was a golden key that opened her door, or whether it was her eloquent tongue and pleading looks, i know not, but certain it is that in the dead of night, when all but two in the castle were sunk in profound slumber, a fair lady softly stepped into her father's apartment, drew a large bunch of keys from under his pillow, and proceeding down to the dungeons by the secret passage, set don fernando at liberty! soon did they breathe the sweet, fresh air of freedom: soon did they find their way to the territory of the count de velasquez, and to the chapel where an obedient priest spoke over their kneeling forms those words which can never be unsaid, by which holy mother church sanctions the union of loving hearts. and the father? he stormed considerably--we fathers generally do in such cases. but, upon mature consideration, he concluded that amiability was, under the circumstances, the best policy: and being in reality a kind-hearted man, he forgave the young couple, and invited them to dinner! and thus ended the ancient feud between the houses of alcantra and velasquez! after the termination of the tale, señor baptista retired, and the conde and his daughters remained chatting by the fire for some time; at length the wasting embers, and the increasing chilliness of the air, warned them that it was time to seek repose. with a reverence unhappily too much wanting in our land of youthful independence, clara and magdalena knelt before their father, and as he imprinted the warm kiss upon their brows, and uttered the heart-felt "god bless you, my daughters!" their feelings, both of piety and of filial love, feelings, how closely united! were certainly freshened. taking their little night-lamps, they proceeded up the staircase, but soon parted, as their rooms were situated in different galleries. from the dim light, and the many branching corridors, magdalena mistook her way, and was just convinced of her mistake, when a sudden puff of wind put out her lamp. feeble glimmering as it gave, it yet would have enabled her to find her way, and she was just on the point of calling out for aid, when she perceived a light approach from an adjacent gallery. she thought it must be a servant, but upon stepping where she could command a better view of it, what was her horror to see a form advance like that described in the story of the castellan! it appeared to be a tall man, clad in complete armor, with visor down: in one hand he bore a torch, which seemed to emit a supernatural light and in the other, a bunch of keys, and a long chain, dragging upon the ground. she distinctly heard the clanking sound of the chain, and the ringing noise of his footstep upon the stone, ere she distinguished the figure, so exactly similar to that of the spectre of alcantra, the vengeful don pedro which was so vividly impressed upon her imagination. she did not shriek, she did not faint; but quickly bounding along the corridor, she flew like lightning down the broad staircase, and found herself in the hall. she had hoped to find her father still there, but it was dark and deserted, and looked so vast and so gloomy, by the cold light of the moon, which streamed in at the furthest windows, that she felt a cold chill creep over her. at this moment the clock struck twelve: as she counted the strokes, which seemed to her excited fancy as if they would never cease tolling, she thought she heard the ringing footsteps approach: in an agony of terror, she rushed through the darkness, which was indeed to her a darkness which could be felt, a palpable thing, towards the chimney place, hoping to find enough of flame to light her lamp; but in vain. the air felt to her so thick and heavy, as if her lungs could scarcely breathe it: she listened for the sound of a step, but heard only the beating of her own heart. at length she summoned courage to retrace her steps, to find either her own room or her sister's, for the silence and solitude of that vast hall were too oppressive to be endured. softly and slowly she crept up the staircase, when suddenly she felt her wrist clasped by a cold iron hand: she gave one piercing shriek, and fell senseless to the ground. when she came to herself, she was lying upon her bed, in the same clothes she wore the preceding day, and the bright sun was streaming in at the windows. she arose, with a sense of pain and confusion, as if some dreadful thing had happened, which she could not recall to her mind; but suddenly the whole scene of the preceding night flashed upon her. she thought, it is impossible: certainly it was a painful dream, caused by the exciting conversation of last evening, and by my impressions of the castle. but all the minute circumstances crowded so vividly into her mind, that she thought it could not be that a mere vision of the night should produce so powerful an effect. but what convinced her of the reality of these occurrences, was the fact that she had not undressed for the night: casting her eyes down upon her person, as she thought this, they fell upon her hand; and there she distinctly saw the marks left upon her delicate skin by that iron grip to which she had been subjected! as she saw this, all the crawling horror and choking fear of the preceding evening came back thick upon her, and a feeling of faintness which she could scarcely resist: but just then her eye fell upon the crucifix, and with a sensation of self-reproach that she had so long forgotten the supports and comforts of religion, she knelt down, and fervently besought aid from on high. and never, under any circumstances, is such a prayer in vain: her mind, so fearfully tried, resumed its self-command, and calmness and peace stole back again into her heart. she opened her window: it was a lovely day, and the mountain air, so bracing and reviving, so deadly to sickly fears and nervous sentimentalities, had an inspiring effect upon her; she laved herself in the cold spring water, arranged her dress, and sought her sister's room. when there, she felt her tremors return, as she related to her the events of the night; but clara's brave and joyous spirit was not of the kind to yield, even for a moment, to supernatural terrors. with her arm around her sister, as if to shield her from all harm, she told her that the first thing to do was to remove all magdalena's effects to her chamber, as she did not think she could trust her out of her sight for one moment, after such an adventure. "but, surely, it must have been your excited imagination!" "how then do you account for my finding myself on top of my bed, and dressed? and how do you make out these purple marks?" "true; but it's very certain a ghost could not have carried you in his arms to your room--it makes me laugh, the very idea! you are not very heavy, but rather too substantial for a ghost, i should think! and he must have been a very smart hobgoblin to know so well which was your room--that seems to me as if he must be an acquaintance of our very earthly-looking castellan. and just as if a ghost could make such a mark upon your wrist! bah! what a clumsy contrivance! i've read of these amiable spirits _burning_ their marks into your flesh, but the blue spots! they are made by good strong muscles. was your _spook_ polite enough to bring your lamp, as well as yourself, into your room?" "i never thought of that! i am sure not, for i always put it on the dressing-table; come and see!" they looked, and no lamp was there; they examined the staircase, and there was a large grease spot, but no lamp. "see, sister! here is a corroboration of my tale!" "oh, i don't doubt a word of it; and i don't doubt the ghost put the lamp into the pantry this morning, nicely trimmed. there is villany here, magdalena; i believe that rascal of a baptista--i must call him so, he has such a hang-dog look--wants to drive us away, for reasons of his own: i can never forgive him for frightening my poor darling so. we'll see if the ghost assail you, or pay you any polite attentions, while you are with me! i've never been so lucky as to see any of the creatures, and should like to try a few experiments upon them: i never even meet snakes in the woods, or any of those things that frighten others. so, señor hobgoblin, come and welcome!" by this time clara had completely chased away her sister's lowness of spirits, and they descended to the breakfast-room, pleasantly talking together. the castellan was in the hall, and clara did not fail to notice that he fixed his eye searchingly upon magdalena as they passed, and did not take it off while he asked, with an obsequious air, if the señoritas had passed a comfortable night in the cheerless old castle? "an uncommonly refreshing one, owing to the hospitable cares of yourself and francisca," said clara, answering for both; "my sister had something like the nightmare, but otherwise we were very comfortable." when they were alone, they told their father the events of the night, and it was his first impulse at once to charge the castellan with villany, and to dismiss him from his post; but clara persuaded him to wait yet some days, until the whole matter was well cleared up, before he took any action. "but, magdalena! i cannot have my little girl's cheek blanched, and her mind filled with ghostly terrors!" "don't be afraid for me, dear father," said his daughter, smiling; "clara's bravery has quite reanimated mine, and she has laughed me out of the belief of its being a spirit at all; i now wonder i could ever have thought so." "all very well, my beloved; but there is a great difference between breakfast time, when the sun is shining brightly into the room, and midnight, with dark corridors and a feebly burning lamp--especially when it goes out." "true, father," said clara, laughing; "but i intend to provide for quite an illumination to-night, and do not expect to let poor magdalena stir from my sight all day." that day passed off without any incidents, and was very agreeably spent in an examination of the ancient castle, with its many relics of by-gone times, its collection of portraits, its spacious rooms, winding galleries, and magazine of armory and weapons. from the battlements they enjoyed a view of the country beneath them, unsurpassed in extent and grandeur: it spread out before their eyes a beautiful panorama, comprising hill and dale, forest and cultivated land; the little whitewashed cottage, with its ascending smoke, and the flocks of sheep scattered about, gave a lively interest to the scene, and endeared it to their hearts: man ever loves to see tokens of the nearness of brother man. magdalena clasped her father's hand: "o, may we not always live here?" "but what about that ghost?" "o, i forgot; but if clara lays the uneasy spirit of don pedro, then will you not remove here?" "i think i will, my daughters, if you both desire it. i dreaded to come here, but find that time has so mellowed and softened my grief, that i can now feel pleasure in revisiting the spots made sacred to me by your dear mother's presence. and i also feel as if i had neglected my duty, through too great an abandonment to grief; here, in my ancestral possessions, it certainly lies. the peasants, i fear, have greatly suffered from my absence, and now they scarcely know me; and i am almost a stranger to the neighboring gentry. if we remove here, will you, my daughters, aid me in making this castle the scene of hospitality and kindness, and will you extend your care to the neglected poor and ignorant, who are scattered through these valleys?" the girls answered with joy in the affirmative, and already began laying plans for visiting the sick, reading to the old, and teaching the young. that night magdalena's fair head was encircled by clara's arm, and their hands clasped together; the younger sister soon fell asleep, after some light confidential chat, such as sisters only can have, there being in that connection the sensation of perfect safety, of the fellow-feeling of youth, and of that entire understanding of every thought and allusion, resulting from intimate intercourse from birth. but clara was wakeful; she thought over the strange events of the preceding night, and the more she reflected, the more convinced she was of some plan on the part of the castellan, for she connected together his looks, his tale, and the sequel of magdalena's ghost, as the merry girl would call the spectral appearance. while engaged in these thoughts, the clock struck twelve: "the witching hour!" she thought; "i wonder if the illustrious don pedro is walking now!" just then her sharp ear detected a little clinking noise on the opposite side of her large, dark chamber; she was all attention, but not a motion did she make to disturb her sleeping sister; her arm still encircled her lovingly, her hand clasped magdalena's. gazing into the darkness, there suddenly appeared in the room a luminous skeleton, frightful enough, truly, to weak nerves; but clara was gifted with a calm and fearless spirit, _mens sana in corpore sano_; and her unspoken thought was--"ah, phosphorus! pretty well done that, for the country! it is really worthy of one of our madrid conjurers!" watching intently to see if any other show was forthcoming, the skeleton as suddenly disappeared as it had come, and she heard various sepulchral groans and sighs, with a running commentary of the rattling of chains and jingling of keys. at last this pleasing interlude, as she termed it, ceased altogether, and in a few moments she again distinguished that clinking sound, and all was silence in her chamber. "well!" thought clara, "the show is certainly over for the night, i might as well go to sleep. very kind, certainly, to provide for our entertainment! but i am glad magdalena did not wake." the following day clara told her adventure in such a mirthful manner to her father and sister, that it was impossible to avoid seeing it in a ludicrous light. however, arrangements were made to stop any further display of theatricals, if they should be attempted the ensuing night; and clara spent some time in her own room, examining the wall opposite her bed. the result was, that upon raising the tapestry, and carefully striking every panel, she observed that one gave a hollow sound: she tried to slide it up, she tried to slide it down, she tried to slide it sideways, but it was unavailing. determined not to give it up, she felt in every part, and at last, after spending several hours in the search, her perseverance was rewarded; it suddenly flew open! she had at last touched the hidden spring, and here, in her own room, as she had suspected, was doña isabel's secret passage! greatly was she tempted to explore the dark and narrow way, and to descend the stairs she saw through the gloom; but prudence prevailed, and she comforted herself with the thought that she had made discoveries enough for one day. another awaited her, however: she had scarcely closed the panel and replaced the tapestry, when there was a knock at the door; it was maria bringing in wood and water. poor maria appeared to be the general drudge of the house, and her slender, delicate frame was borne down with labor. clara's bright and cheerful kindness had quite gained the young girl's heart, unused as she was to aught but harshness and reprimand. her soul expanded, and her silent lips were opened under the genial influence--it was like the sun shining upon the little flower, shut up against the chilling dews of night, but spontaneously opening under his joyful beams. she told her her history: she was the only grandchild of the former castellan, the faithful servant of the house, so beloved by don alonzo: at his death she was a little child, and had ever spent her life in the service of his successor. when very young, she had met with kindness from the other servants; but they were soon dismissed, and for years there had been none in the castle but those she now saw--the castellan and his wife, the half-witted sebastiano, and herself. but she said that occasionally señor baptista had company--and she shuddered as she said it--ferocious-looking men, armed to the teeth, and generally wearing masks. she always kept out of the way when they were about; but one thing she knew, that they did not enter nor depart by the gate of the castle, and that señor baptista must have some other way of admitting them. "do you think they can be the banditti they talk of?" "i do not doubt it, and i have so longed to get away from this wicked place, that i often lie awake at night thinking about it. they would kill me if they thought i had betrayed them;--will you protect me?" "[**missing words**] my poor maria: and so you are the old castellan's grandchild! i remember hearing my father say that he yearly transmitted to baptista a handsome annuity for this poor orphan: of course you never got any portion of it?" "not a single quarto: but now i must go, i should be missed; á dios, señorita querida!" clara lost not a moment in seeking her father, and in communicating to him her important intelligence. cool action was indispensably necessary: for the first and the last time in their lives, there was a secret between the sisters. after dinner, don alonzo expressed a wish to ride, to see if any changes had taken place in the neighborhood, and his daughters declining to accompany him, as had been agreed between them, he invited his secretary, with the castellan and his wife, to accompany him--an honor which they gladly accepted. soon after their departure, clara sent a note don alonzo had written, by the hands of their trusty anselmo, to the village of alcantra, requiring the immediate attendance of the band of soldiers stationed there; and before the return of the carriage, they were admitted by maria, and conducted to a room adjoining clara's, the weak-minded sebastiano being easily kept out of the way. at night, a change of apartments took place: clara and magdalena slept, or rather waked, in their father's room, and he quietly awaited in theirs the progress of events. at twelve o'clock, he heard the slight sound described by his daughter, as proceeding from the opening of the panel. he waited a few moments, to allow the intruders to enter, and then, beholding forms arrayed in flames and white winding-sheets before him, he raised the pistol he held in his hand, pulled the trigger, and the foremost fell groaning to the ground. instantly the soldiers and servants stationed in the adjoining chamber rushed into the room with lights, and before the rest of the villains could recover from their surprise, they were all captured. upon raising the wounded man, they beheld, gnashing his teeth with fury, señor baptista himself, the leader of the band! ten men were they in all, and as they subsequently discovered, this comprised the whole of the banditti. entirely under the control of the artful baptista, their object was not to injure, but to alarm the conde's family, hoping thus to drive them away from a place filled with supernatural horror; whereas any harm done to them would have infallibly brought down upon their heads the vengeance of government. francisca, also, was secured, and the whole band was sent off to the nearest prison, to await their trial. the attempt was made to work upon the woman's fears of francisca, to induce her to make confession, and to implicate her companions. iron can be fashioned into any shape upon the anvil, but a will like hers no fire is hot enough to melt, no hammer hard enough to break or subdue. they promised her pardon, if she would open her lips; but her scornful smile showed that she would remain true to her own code of honor, be the consequences what they might. abundant evidence proved the guilt of all concerned: the men suffered the penalty of offended justice, and francisca was condemned to perpetual imprisonment, but managed to escape, and was never heard of more. on the morning following the capture, the secret passage was thoroughly explored, and a discovery made, involving many important results. a number of the dungeons were found piled up with merchandise of various descriptions, and whole chests of gold and silver were there deposited: information was immediately transmitted to government, but the king himself wrote a letter to don alonzo, thanking him for his many faithful and unrequited services, and begging his acceptance of the treasure found within his walls, much of which was no doubt his own. the conde gratefully accepted this evidence of his sovereign's favor, and took great pains to discover the relatives of those who had been murdered by the banditti, restoring to them fourfold. the treasure that remained was more than sufficient to disencumber his estates, and to restore them to the flourishing condition of olden times. he endowed hospitals, churches, and schools with the residue; and the peasants of all that region will long have cause to bless doña clara's bravery and don alonzo's munificence. it is almost needless to add that maria, in whom every day developed new graces under the quickening influence of kindness, was well provided for by the conde; and upon her marriage with his secretary, señor roberto, he presented her with a handsome dowry. the old castle of alcantra, delivered from its spectre, was soon converted by masons, carpenters, and upholsterers, into a most comfortable abode; and the hospitality of its noble master, and the charms of his fair daughters, attracted to it all that was worthy, intelligent, and lovely in the adjacent country. "is that all?" said amy, who had been listening with glistening eyes. "all? i hope so indeed; for do you know, my dears," said mrs. wyndham, "that it is past eleven o'clock? hasten away now to your nests, and take care not to dream of the spectre of alcantra." chapter v. a skating adventure.--what is my thought like?--questions.--the orphan's tale, or the vicissitudes of fortune. saturday morning was so bright and cold--such a frosty, finger-pinching winter day, that, at breakfast, george proposed the riddle, "what two fishes would you tie together on a day like this?" as none were able to guess it, he pronounced the assembled company intolerably stupid, and gave as the solution, _skates_ and _soles_. he declared the weather was made on purpose for skating; and although his uncle expressed some doubts as to the thickness of the ice, george's eloquence and earnestness carried the point, especially as, from his own account, his experience was so great that you would have concluded he was at least sixty years old. so the boys set off for a large pond, at the distance of about a mile, accompanied by the girls, well wrapt up in cloaks, furs, and mufflers, of every description, all in the highest spirits, and quite ready for fun and frolic; and the quick walk through the frosty air, broken by many a hop, skip, and jump, certainly did not tend to repress the exuberance of their laughter and excitement. is any one too grave and too wise to approve of such conduct? allow me to ask, reverend sir, or venerable madam, as the case may be, how many centuries are pressing their weight upon your silver locks? methuselah himself might remember that he once was young, and sympathize with the innocent light-heartedness of youth: and surely you cannot have arrived at quite his length of years. 'tis a great mistake to suppose that dullness and moping gravity have any thing in common with either goodness or wisdom: they are but the base imitations, the spurious counterfeits, which can pass only with the undiscerning. welcome, joyous laugh, and youthful glee! the world has quite enough of care and sorrow, without repressing the merry heart of childhood. wiser would it be for you, oh sad and weary spirit, sick of the buffetings of the cold and selfish crowd, for a little time to come out of your unhappy self, and by sympathy with others, again to become a little child. your soul would be refreshed and strengthened by bathing in the morning dews of youth; here would you find a balm for the wounds inflicted by the careless world; many a mourner has been drawn away from that sorrow which feeds upon the very springs of life, by the innocent caresses and gay converse of a child. cleave then to your liveliness, young people! and throw away from you all vapors, megrims, and melancholic feelings! believe me, real sorrow will come soon enough, and your groundless depression of spirits may have more in common with ill-nature than with thoughtfulness or earnestness of mind: true wisdom is both cheerful and loving. the girls staid for some time admiring the evolutions of the skaters as they gracefully wound about in intricate figures, or cut their names upon the ice; but they declared at last that they must retreat before the attacks of jack frost, who pinched their noses, fingers, and toes in an unmerciful manner. the boys, ardent in the pursuit of sport, still persevered, and george especially, who was devoted to this amusement, distinguished himself by his skill. "take care, george!" said his brother john, "you are going too far from the shore; it's hardly safe out there. please to recollect, that neither you nor i can swim, and we'd be in a fine case if you fell in." "who's afraid? i'm not for one!" cried george, fearlessly dashing off to the centre of the pond: but at the very moment when he was raising a triumphant shout, and calling upon the rest to follow him, a sharp crack was heard, the ice gave way under him, and he disappeared in the water! a cry of dismay broke from the group of his companions: instinctively john rushed forward to save him, but was held back by the others, who well knew that two would then be lost, instead of one. but in an instant, before george rose again to the surface, tom green, the oldest of the cousins, and a tall, manly fellow, had stripped off his coat, and gaining the spot, had plunged into the water. it was intensely cold, and he was obliged to break away the ice for some distance round before he was able to seize hold of poor george, who had risen up only to find a glassy wall, impenetrable to all his efforts, between himself and the outer air, and who had given himself up for lost. tom at length succeeded in forcing his way to ice thick enough to sustain his weight, and giving up his precious burden to the anxious group above, he reached the shore in safety. both were chilled through, and almost numb, from the excessive cold of the water, and tom's hands were cut by the ice, which he had been obliged to break: but they were not the lads tamely to give up, and moan over their condition, when they were able to act. "now, boys, for a race!" cried tom: "it's the only hope of putting a little life into us, and of keeping off the rheumatism--let us see who will be the first at the grange!" they accordingly started, running as fast as the numbness of their feet would allow, and soon arrived at the house; but what remarkable objects were tom and george, when they presented themselves before the eyes of their astonished aunt and cousins! their dress, soaked with water, was now perfectly stiff, like a coat of armor, and the edges hung with icicles, as did their hair; cornelia, concerned as she was for her brother and cousin, could not, when she thought of it, long afterwards, refrain from merry peals of laughter at the ludicrous appearance they made--they looked as if they had come from the north pole, representatives from the regions of eternal ice and snow. mrs. wyndham very soon had beds prepared for them, where, wrapt up in blankets, and comforted by a warm drink, which the advocates of the maine liquor law would not have altogether approved of, they speedily recovered their vital warmth, and the elasticity of their spirits. uncle john assured the young party, who were full of fears for their health, that his anticipations of evil consequences had been scattered by seeing those piled-up plates at dinner-time return to him to be replenished: he thought that such fine appetites were very good symptoms. they spent the day in bed, but were so much recruited from their exhaustion by a sound sleep, that aunt lucy mercifully took off her restriction, and allowed them to join the family group at supper. tom's hands were bound up, on account of "those honorable scars," as cornelia called them, and the two, the rescued and the rescuer, were decidedly the heroes of the evening: the girls, ever full of admiration of gallant conduct, looked upon good-natured and pleasant tom green with a respect they had not felt before. one of the games this evening was "what is my thought like?" mary went round the circle asking the question, and when she announced that her thought was _president taylor_, there was some amusement at the incongruity of the replies. she then asked each one for a reason of the resemblance, and an answer was to be given immediately, or a forfeit to be paid. "cornelia, why was president taylor like a _sunset_?" "because his career was splendid like the sun, and his loss equally regretted." "john, why was he like a _brick_?" "so substantial." "amy, why was he like a _cat_?" "why--because he was so 'cute." "alice, why was he like a _sigh_?" "he always excited so much sympathy in the hearts of the people." "george, how did he resemble _cream_?" "because he was the very best and tip-top of all that was good." "tom, why was he like a _cow_?" "because he did not know how to run." "ellen, why was he like an _umbrella_?" "because he sheltered many." "gertrude, how did he resemble the _alps_?" "he towered aloft majestically above his fellow-men." "harry, how did you make him out like a _laugh_?" "oh, he was such a merry old soul." "then, how does anna make him resemble a _tear_?" "he was so sympathetic with the woes of others." "aunt lucy, how was he like a _fire_?" "he was warm-hearted, and the centre of attraction to so many." "and, louis, how do you make him like a _flower_?" "his presidential career was bright, and short-lived, like a flower." "charlie, why was he like a _vine_?" "that's plain enough--his motto was _'a little more grape_.'" amy went round collecting resemblances for her thought, and then said that she had the watch-dog, trusty, in her mind. "why is trusty like _paper_?" "because he's white." "then, why is he like _ink_?" "because he's so useful." "why is he like a _table_?" "because he's a quadruped." "why is he like _aunt lucy_?" "he is so good and faithful." "why is he like a _bed_?" "his steadiness at his post enables us to enjoy undisturbed sleep." "how does he resemble a _carpet_?" "he generally lies on the floor, but is sometimes brushed off." "how is he like a _lion_?" "he is very fond of meat." "how does he resemble _cousin mary_?" "he has a collar round his neck." "how is he like a _tree_?" "he is so very full of bark." gertrude then proposed trying another game she had seen played, which was called "questions." she said it was generally done by using playing-cards, but as she knew uncle and aunt had an objection to having them in the house, she had prepared a set of blank cards for the purpose. there were duplicates of every one, and she had numbered them, , , , etc., in large characters: one set was placed in the centre of the table, around which they drew up, and the duplicates were shuffled and dealt to each in turn. when they were all supplied, one would draw a card from the table, asking some personal question; and all looking at their cards, the one who had the duplicate must throw it upon the table, and say, "it is i." it was found that the sillier and more impertinent the question, the more laughter it caused. "who comes down last to breakfast?" said tom, drawing from the pack one marked . "i do," replied aunt lucy, throwing down her corresponding . "who is the prettiest person present?" said aunt lucy, drawing out a . "i am," said george, with a grin--being quite reconciled to the fact that he was decidedly the ugliest one of the party; at the same time mating his with its companion on the table. "who loves mince-pie the best?" said amy "i do," replied ellen, with a laugh. "which of us is the old maid of the company?" said cornelia. "it is i," cried tom, in a tone of triumph. "which of us has a hole in her stocking?" said alice. "oh, it is i myself." and so it went on until the pack was exhausted, when all agreed that it was time for the daily story, which they seemed to think as much a matter of course as the supper. aunt lucy said that she would gladly tell them a short one, which should be called the orphan's tale, or the vicissitudes of fortune. the early days of margaret roscoe were spent in the beautiful manse of linlithgow, in the north of scotland, where her venerable grandfather had for half a century been engaged in breaking the bread of life to a large congregation of humble parishioners. no wealth or grandeur was to be seen within the walls of the kirk where alan roscoe officiated: there were no waving plumes, no flashing jewels, no rustling silks; and when, as a young man, he accepted his appointment to this remote parish, his college friends grieved that his noble talents should be wasted, and his refinement of mind thrown away upon rough country folks, unable to appreciate him. but the young minister was convinced that his proper field of labor was now before him, and resolutely putting aside the temptings of ambition, he devoted himself in the most exemplary manner to his parochial duties. although he and his family were debarred from the advantages of cultivated society, and from the mental excitement which only such intercourse can afford, they cheerfully made the sacrifice, for the sake of the cause to which they were wholly given up; and they thought themselves more than repaid by the improvement and the reverent love of the people. it is a great mistake to suppose that plain, unlettered men cannot rightly estimate superior abilities, erudition, and refinement; where there is any native shrewdness and strength of mind, these higher gifts are quickly discerned, and add greatly to the influence which sincerity and earnestness of character will ever command. in scotland this is especially true, for the countrymen of bruce and wallace are distinguished for their sagacity; and their acquaintance with scripture is so extensive that their natural intelligence is sharpened, and superficial knowledge and flowery discourses are not tolerated from the pulpit. certain it is, that as years rolled on, and the white hairs became thicker on mr. roscoe's head, love and veneration were the universal feelings entertained toward him: and at the time when our story commences, when the infant margaret and her young widowed mother removed beneath the shelter of his roof, he was the respected pastor, the beloved friend, and the revered father of all within the circle of his influence. malcom roscoe, margaret's father, was a young man of superior abilities, but of great original delicacy of constitution; he was retiring, studious, meditative, and in all respects a contrast to his older and only brother, alan, who early developed those qualities which are necessary to the active man of business. a very warm attachment united these two young men, and a sad blow it was to malcom, when his brother, with the energy and decision natural to his character, announced his intention of emigrating to america, where bright prospects had opened before him. an old friend had commenced a large commercial establishment in one of the atlantic cities, and had offered him a clerkship, with the prospect of speedy admission into the firm: he regretted to leave his aged father, and his only brother, but such an excellent opportunity of advancing himself in life was not to be neglected, and he gratefully accepted the proposition. with many tears, he bade adieu to the beloved inmates of the manse, and set out for the new world: his industry and integrity had been greatly prospered, and in a few years he was an honored partner of the house into which he had entered as a penniless clerk. what, meantime, had been malcom's lot? he had applied himself with assiduity to the study of divinity, for which both his character and his abilities had admirably fitted him, but his health was unequal to the demands made upon it. he passed his examination with great honor, was immediately called to a parish, and went there to settle, accompanied by his young wife, a delicate and interesting orphan girl, to whom he had been long attached. his zealous spirit saw much to rectify, and many labors to perform, in his new sphere: he entered with ardor into the discharge of his duties, but soon he found that his frail body had been overtasked by its imperious master the soul, and was no longer able to do his bidding. he faded away from earth, as do so many of the best and noblest of the race, when just ready to apply to the loftiest purposes the faculties so carefully trained. to us, such occurrences appear to be very mysterious dispensations of providence: but the individual himself has attained the true object of his being, the full development of all his powers, and is prepared for a more elevated existence. and we may believe, since not even a sparrow falls to the ground unheeded by our father, and since no waste is allowed in nature, so that even the dead leaf ministers to new combinations of being, that the noble gifts of the mind will not be unused after death. in other spheres, amid other society, they will doubtless be employed for the benefit of immortal beings. mutual beneficence must form a large part of the business and pleasure of heaven. after malcom's death, his widow and infant child came to live with old mr. roscoe at linlithgow. happily for the young mourner, the household cares of the manse now devolved upon her, in addition to the charge of margaret; and these occupations, no doubt, aided greatly in restoring the serenity of her spirit. she had little time to brood over her sorrows--those small solicitudes and minute attentions to the feelings and comfort of others, which fill up so large a portion of a true woman's time, were with her a double blessing, cheering both the giver and receiver. she realized that it is woman's honor and happiness to be, in an especial manner, a ministering spirit; and thus she learned to resemble the bright hosts above, whom she hoped one day to join, and grow in the likeness of him who declared, "the son of man came not into the world to be ministered unto, but to minister." no wonder is it that the gentle young widow, whose face ever beamed with kindness, whose hand was ever outstretched to aid the unfortunate, was looked up to with a love and veneration only inferior to that with which mr. roscoe himself was regarded. in such an atmosphere of affection, and under the best influences of unaffected piety and refinement, little margaret expanded in beauty and goodness, like a sweet flower planted in a fertile soil, and refreshed by soft-falling dews and healthful breezes. she was something like her own scottish heather--distinguished by no uncommon brilliancy of mind or person, but yet one upon whom your eye delighted to fall, and on whom your heart could dwell with pleasure. her clear, rosy complexion showed that she had inherited none of her parent's delicacy of constitution; and large, deep, violet-colored eyes, shaded by long lashes, made her face a very interesting one. she was a most lovable little girl, gentle and thoughtful beyond her years; it seemed as if something of the shadow of her mother's grief had fallen upon her young spirit, repressing the volatility of childhood, and making her ever considerate of the feelings and studious of the comfort of others. she was her grandfather's constant companion; and it was very beautiful to see these two, so widely separated by years, and so closely united by affection, entwining their lives together--the old man imparting instruction and guidance, and the child warming his heart with the bright hopes and sweet ways of her innocent age. and so the three lived on, in perfect contentment and uninterrupted peace, until margaret was seven years old, when her grandfather was taken ill, and the manse, once so happy, was filled with sorrow. he lingered for some time, faithfully nursed by his daughter, who overtaxed her own strength by her daily toils and nightly watchings. he at last sank into the tomb, as a shock of corn, fully ripe, bends to the earth: he was full of years, and of the honor merited by a life spent in the arduous discharge of duty. his only regret was that he was unavoidably separated from his son; and he advised his daughter, as soon as she had settled his affairs, to accept alan's pressing invitation to her to make her home with him, and to depart with her child for america, where she would be gladly welcomed. after the funeral, as the new incumbent of the parish wished to take possession of the manse as soon as possible, mrs. roscoe made arrangements to leave the spot she loved so well: and disposing of the furniture, and settling the debts incurred by her father's illness, she found that no very large sum would be left after the passages across the atlantic were paid for. in alan roscoe's last letter, he had entered into many details about his circumstances, in order to take from her mind the objections which delicacy might urge as to her dependent position. he told her that he had been eminently successful as a merchant in charleston, and had amassed so considerable a fortune that he intended very soon to retire from business; and that he had some thoughts of settling in one of the northern cities, as his health, and that of his family, had suffered from the climate. he said that a dear and only sister, as she was, ought to have no reluctance in sharing the superfluity of his wealth: she would thereby give far more than she received. and his brother's orphan should be most heartily welcomed to his heart and home: she should be taught with his children, and should share in every respect the situation and prospects of his own little ones, for he must receive malcom's child, not as a niece, but as a daughter. he advised her sailing direct for charleston, as it would save all trouble and difficulty: he should be on the wharf to meet her, and if, as was frequently the case with business men, he was unavoidably absent, his very attentive partner would be there to greet her, in company with mrs. roscoe. she accordingly wrote, accepting his kind proposition, and stating that they should sail in the first vessel bound for charleston, as she was anxious to have little maggie again settled in a home; and the more so, as her own health was very delicate, and she knew not how long her dear child might have a mother to watch over her. then taking leave of the humble friends, who would gladly have kept them ever in scotland, mrs. roscoe and her daughter set off for the nearest seaport, where the shrinking young widow, entirely friendless and unknown, was obliged herself to make inquiries among the shipping offices and wharves. she found that no vessel would start for some weeks for charleston, and she felt that every day was of consequence to her: but she was at last relieved of her distress by a bluff, good-natured captain, who told her that although he didn't hail from charleston, it was exactly the same thing; he sailed to boston, and the two places were as close together as twin cherries on one stalk, or kernels in a nut, and that he would see to it she had no trouble in finding her friends. being a scotchman, and partaking of that ignorance of american geography which is so common both in great britain and on the continent, he naturally mistook charleston, south carolina, for which she was inquiring, for charlestown, near boston--an error which has frequently been made. nor is it as gross a one as some others which have been perpetrated; as, for instance, that of the late prince schwartzenberg, minister of austria, who directed some dispatches for our government to "the united states of new york." and now behold little margaret actually launched upon the stormy ocean of life! for her small bark was destined soon to be severed from its guide and conductor, and to be left, without a pilot, to the wildly tossing waves and bleak winds of a selfish world. did i say without a pilot? not so! a hand, unseen, directed her fate, and although she was called to pass thus early through troubled waters, the end will doubtless show that all was well. but the present trial was a very bitter one. a few days only after the embarkation, mrs. roscoe's weak frame gave way, under the combined influence of sorrow, fatigue, and anxiety; she was only ill a week, then sank, and was consigned to a watery grave. little margaret could not be separated from her for one moment during her illness, but, clasping her mother's hand in hers, remained by her, smoothing her pillow, bringing her the cooling draught, and seeking, in a thousand loving ways, to cheer and relieve her. before her death, mrs. roscoe called the captain, and committed little maggie to his especial care. she told him of her expectation that her brother, mr. alan roscoe, a prominent importing merchant in charleston, would immediately come on board to claim his niece, when the vessel arrived; but to guard against any possibility of a mistake, she gave him the number of the street in which he resided. the bluff, but kind-hearted man drew his red, hard hand repeatedly across his eyes, as he listened to her anxious directions about the little girl she was so soon to leave. he told her he didn't know much himself about either charleston or the people who lived in it, as he had been engaged until very lately in the south sea trade; but, of course, his consignees at boston would, and if there were any difficulty, he should put the matter into their hands. he begged her to be under no uneasiness--her daughter should be well attended to. on the last day of her illness, the little girl sat by her in the berth, and for the first time appeared to realize that her mother, her only earthly friend, was about to die. her little cheek was now almost as white as the dying woman's, and she moistened the bed with tears: she could not restrain her sobs. her mother passed her arm around her, and strove to comfort her: she told her that, although she must now leave her, and go where her dear father and grandfather awaited her, her little girl had one friend who would never cast her off, and who could never die, who had promised to be the father of the fatherless. whatever should befall her, she must put all her trust in him who had said, "when thy father and thy mother forsake thee, then the lord shall take thee up." with all the energy which the love of a dying woman could give, she besought her child to cleave with perfect love to him who was so kind and pitiful. she then placed around her neck a medallion, inclosing a portrait of herself and her husband, with their initials, the date of their marriage, and locks of their hair, and told her never to part with it, but to wear it next her heart. she directed her to be in all respects obedient to her uncle, and ever to act toward him as if he were her own father. at last, exhausted by the the long conversation she had held, she sank back and fell asleep: it was so sweet and natural a rest, that margaret long waited by her side, afraid to stir lest she should awake her mother. a happy smile seemed diffused over that face, lately so earnest and so anxious; it appeared to say, my troubles are now over, my work is done, i have entered into my reward. and so it was! the sorrow-stricken woman had gently passed away from earth, and little margaret was watching beside the dead. shall i attempt to describe the grief of the child, deprived of all she loved? the rough, but kindly sailors were much moved by it, and strove, in their uncouth way, to comfort her. after the first few days of passionate lamentation, the motherless girl became more quiet in her sorrow, and then the demonstrations of sympathy ceased: but any one who gazed upon her wasted form, her white cheek, and languid steps, might have guessed the tears she shed upon her pillow at night. at last the vessel arrived in boston, and margaret's heart beat quick each time she saw a good-looking gentleman step on board, for every instant she thought her unknown uncle would arrive. she tried to fancy how he looked, and although she had heard that he and her father were very unlike, still her imagination brought up before her a face like that within her highly-prized medallion. so passed the day, in anxious waiting and nervous tremors, but her uncle came not; and as the night drew near, a sense of perfect loneliness and desertion came over her, and she leaned her head upon her hands, and tears, wrung from the heart, trickled through them. all around her was bustle; every one had an object, all had a home, and a place in the world, and some to love them--all but she; she felt completely the orphan. some think that children do not suffer mentally as their elders do--what a mistake! their emotions are more transitory, but frequently more violent while they last. many an angry child, if he had the physical strength, would commit deeds from which reason and conscience deter the man--and keen and bitter, although fleeting, are the sorrows they experience. as the little creature, so tenderly reared and now so utterly desolate, sat upon the deck, with no earthly being to look up to for love and sympathy, surely a pitying angel must have wafted into her heart her mother's dying words, "when thy father and thy mother forsake thee, then the lord shall take thee up." it stole into her soul like oil upon the troubled waters: it seemed as if a voice had said to the tempest within her, "peace, be still." she felt that there still was one who cared for her--one who could neither die nor change; and the prayer of faith ascended from those young lips to "_our father_ who art in heaven." soothing, blessed influence of religion! felt by young as well as old--how, in trouble, could we dispense with it? would not our hearts sink under their load? would not our spirits be crushed within us? the next day the captain set himself in earnest to fulfill his promise to the dying woman. the head of the firm to which his goods were consigned was absent from home, but a very kind-hearted young fellow, a junior partner, attended to the business during his absence, and accordingly he directed his inquiries to him. "mr. alan roscoe, a merchant of charlestown!" said young howard, "why, i never heard the name--there is surely some mistake. i know all the business men of the place, and there is no such person. have you the direction?" "yes, sir, no. meeting-street." "why, captain, here is a complete blunder! there is no street of that name in charlestown. i should not wonder, now i come to think of it, if charleston, south carolina, were meant; meeting-street is, i know, one of the most fashionable promenades. and i remember hearing of a mr. roscoe, a great southern merchant--either in charleston, or mobile, or new orleans, i don't rightly know where--but somewhere in the south. i'll tell you what, captain, you're full of business, and can't attend to her; i'll take her home with me, for she's a dear little thing, and then i can inquire about her uncle, and send her on by the first opportunity. great pity such a blunder was made!" accordingly, mr. howard engaged a hack, which was piled up with little maggie's trunks, and he was about jumping in, when he was nearly run over by his friend russell. "hallo, howard!" "is that you, russell?" "no one else; but what on earth are you doing with such a heap of trunks? has a friend arrived?" "only a little orphan, who came in one of our ships; her mother died on board, and to crown the misfortune, they got into the wrong vessel. they wanted to go to charleston, s.c., where this child has an uncle, mr. alan roscoe, a rich merchant; so they came to charlestown by mistake. i'm taking the little creature home with me, until i find out about him." "the luckiest thing in the world! why, i know mr. roscoe myself; he lives in meeting-street; i became acquainted with him in charleston last winter. but he has either given up business, or intends to do so; he is in new york at this moment; i saw him the other day at the astor house, and he told me he had some thought of removing to new york or philadelphia." "in new york, is he? what a piece of good fortune! how i wish i knew some one going on there. if i were not so uncommonly busy, now that mr. field is away, i would take her myself." "if you'd like it, my dear fellow, i'll take charge of the child--you know i always have acquaintances going on to new york--i know every one in the two cities, pretty much. i'll give her over to some safe person, and then she'll be with her uncle to-night." "thank you, you're a real good soul; you can attend to it as well as i, of course. and i am anxious to get the poor little thing to her relations as soon as possible, so i'll be much obliged to you." "good-by, then;--driver, go as fast as your horses can carry you to the new york depot, for we're rather late." when they arrived, they were only a few minutes before the time. mr. russell walked through the cars, looking on either side, but, to his chagrin, he saw no one he knew. any one who has ever sought for an acquaintance, while the steam was puffing, and panting, and screeching, as if in mortal pain until it was allowed to have its own way, and send the train along at the rate of forty miles an hour, can understand the flustered, bewildered feelings of young russell, as, with the child in one hand, he perambulated the cars. "is any gentleman here willing to take charge of this little girl?" said he. "what's to be done with her when we get to new york?" answered a man near him. "her uncle, mr. alan roscoe, is staying at the astor house; all you have to do is to take the child and her baggage to him, and as he is a southern gentleman, and very rich, he'll see that you are well paid for your trouble." "i'll take charge of her; have you got her ticket?" "no; and i declare i have no more than half a dollar with me--can you advance the money? you will be paid tenfold when you get to new york." "i'll do it as a speculation: here, my pretty young lady, sit in my seat while i see to your baggage." "just got it in the baggage-car in time,--good-by, sir!" "good-by--good-by, miss roscoe!" "good-by, sir--i wish it were _you_ going on to new york!" little maggie did not like her travelling companion at all. children are great physiognomists, and their simple instincts are frequently surer guides than the experience and wisdom of older persons, in detecting character. she could not bear to talk to him--his conversation, garnished with low cant phrases, was so different from any thing to which she had ever been accustomed. but when she looked up into his face, the repugnance she had at first felt became changed into aversion--the low, narrow forehead, the furtive, but insolent glance of his eye, and the expression of vulgar cunning about the mouth, formed a countenance which might well justify her in shrinking back into her seat, as far from him as possible. when they arrived in new york, smith, for that was the man's name, engaged a carriage, and drove with little margaret to the astor house; but, in answer to his inquiries, he was told that no one of the name of roscoe was lodging, or had been boarding there for the past month. he muttered a curse, and jumped again into the hack. "what do you make of this? that uncle of yours is not there." "oh dear, what _shall_ i do? but, indeed, the gentleman said he saw him in the astor house." "what is the gentleman's name, can you tell me?" "i don't know his name." "don't know his name, don't you? i'm prettily bit! but perhaps he may be in some other hotel, we'll go and see." they accordingly drove round to the chief hotels, but no mr. roscoe was to be found at any of them. smith flew into a terrible passion. "cheated for once in my life! sold, if ever a fellow was! it's a regular trick that was played! they wanted to get rid of their beggar's brat, and palmed her off upon me, with that humbug story of the nabob of an uncle. i'll nabob her! and there's her ticket, which i was fool enough to pay for, and the carriage hire, and my trouble with this saucy thing, who holds her head up so high; if ever i am swindled again, my name's not sam smith!" "i'm sure i'm very sorry; what are you going to do with me, sir?" "take you home with me, until i can get rid of you, and pay myself out of your trunks, unless they're filled with stones. it wouldn't be such a bad idea to lose you in the streets, accidentally; but no, on second thoughts, it's better not; there are always some troublesome philanthropists about." "oh, sir, if you can't find my uncle, won't you send me on to boston again? the captain told my mother he'd find him for me--or that good gentleman would." "the captain's a rogue, and so is your _good gentleman_. are you such an eternal fool as to think i'll pay your passage again? you're mightily mistaken, i can tell you. i don't believe you ever had an uncle, you little cheat--and if you don't hush up about him, i'll find a way to make you." little margaret was too much frightened to answer, and they kept on their way, through narrow muddy streets lined with lofty warehouses, and alleys filled with low german and irish lodging-houses and beer-shops, until they came to a wider highway, at the corners of which margaret read the name of chatham street. on each side of the way were shops of the strangest appearance--furniture, old and new, was piled up together, coats and cloaks hung out at the doors, watches and jewelry of a tawdry description made a show in the windows, and men with keen black eyes and hooked noses, and stooping backs which looked as if they had never been erect in their lives, stood at the entrances, trying to attract the attention of the passer-by. as margaret looked at them, she thought of the stories her mother had read to her of the ant-lion, stealthily watching at the bottom of its funnel-shaped den for its prey, which the deceitful sand brings within its reach, if once the victim comes to the edge of the pit; and of the spider, so politely inviting the fly within its parlor. "will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly, "'tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy; the way into my parlor is up a winding stair, and i've many curious things to show you when you're there." "oh no, no," said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain, for who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again." at the door of some of the shops, she saw a man standing upon a box, with a hammer in his hand, and a crowd around him, eager, and bidding against one another. "going, going, a splendid gold watch at five dollars--the greatest bargain in the world--tremendous sacrifice--going, going, _gone_!" at last they came to his den; a shop like the rest, piled up with old brass andirons, sofas, bureaus, tables, lamps, coats and pants, ropes, feather-beds, and hideous daubs of pictures. old-fashioned mantel-ornaments, looking-glasses, clocks pointing to all hours of the day, waiters with the paint rubbed off, old silver candlesticks, and a heap of other trash, completed the furniture of the room. stumbling through this lumber, smith led her up to a little garret, where the bare rafters were covered with dust, and one hole of a window let in some light, enough to reveal the nakedness of the place. in one corner, upon the dirty floor, was an old bed; a piece of a mirror was fastened against the wall, which looked quite innocent of the whitewash brush; and a stool, which had lost one of its legs, was lying in a very dejected attitude near the door. "here you are to lodge," said smith, with a sardonic grin, as he noticed the child's dismay at the announcement. "you can stay up here till i want you, and when you are hungry, you can go down stairs to the little back kitchen and get a slice of bread; but don't dare to show your face in the shop." "when will my trunks come?" said the little girl, whose wits were sharpened by the necessity of looking out for her own interests. "never you mind about them trunks," replied smith; "i advise you to keep quiet, and it will be the better for you." so saying, he descended into his shop, and left the poor child to her meditations, which were none of the pleasantest. two days passed without smith making his appearance, and margaret worked up her courage to the point of going into the shop, even if it did excite his anger, and insisting upon his taking her to her uncle, or sending her back to the ship. she walked in, unnoticed, and the first object that met her sight was one of her mother's large trunks, open and empty, with the price marked upon the top. around the room she saw the others, and the contents, so precious to her from association with her deceased parent, were hanging about upon pegs, looking ashamed of their positions. horrified, the little girl ran up to smith: "these are my things," she said; "how dare you put them into the shop?" "you had better hush up, little vixen," replied the man, "or i'll take the very clothes from off your back. you don't think i am going to keep you without receiving board, do you?" "but i'm not going to stay here. i'll go back to the ship--the captain will _make_ you give me my things," cried the child, bursting into passionate tears. "go--i'd like nothing better; go back to boston as fast as you can, cry-baby, and give my compliments to the gentleman who cheated me into taking you," replied smith, with his odious smile. "then why will you not take me to my uncle? i don't want to stay in this horrid place." "take care, or you'll get into a worse--as for your uncle, i saw in the paper yesterday an account of his death, so you need have no hopes from him." "dead! all dead!" said margaret, sinking down into the nearest seat, for her head swam, and her knees trembled so that she could not stand. "yes, he's dead as a door nail--no mistake about that. so you had better not be troublesome, or you won't fare as well as you do. here, jackson," he said to a rough, bloated-looking, elderly countryman, who had been purchasing some old furniture, and had now re-entered the shop, "didn't you say that you wanted a little girl to do your work?" "yes, i did," replied the man, "my old woman is not worth any thing any more. but i must have some one that will not be interfered with: i intend to get an orphan from the alms-house, that will suit me best." "here is an orphan, who is the very thing: she has no relations or friends in the world, and i'm rather tired of keeping her--i'll give her to you for nothing." "that would do, but she does not look like a poor child: she is dressed like a little lady, and her hands are small and white, as if she wasn't used to rough work." "she _is_ dressed up more than she should be, but you can soon mend that; and i'll answer for it, she'll learn to do the rough work soon enough." "well, i'll take her: have her bundle ready by the afternoon, and i'll call for her in the wagon, and take the girl and the other baggage at the same time." "agreed--she shall be ready." it would be hard to describe little margaret's feelings during the preceding dialogue: she plainly saw that there was no escape for her, unless she rushed into the street, and claimed the protection of any chance passer-by, and that honest smith took pains to prevent, by locking her up in her room. when there alone, she threw herself down upon the bed, and sobbed as if her heart would break: "if my mother, my dear, dear mother, was living, _she_ would take care of me. she would not let me stay in this filthy place--she would not let me eat dry bread and water--she would not let that ugly old man take me away, to do servants' work. oh mother! mother! i wish i were dead too!" when her passion of grief was exhausted, comfort and hope began to dawn upon her, and she thought, "it cannot certainly be as bad in the country, where the old man lives, as here, in this vile hole, with all these disgusting smells and sights. and my mother said, that god is a friend who can never die or change, who will never leave or forsake the poor orphan. i will try to be a better child, and then god will love me: perhaps i deserve this, for being naughty. i certainly will try to be good." in the afternoon, jackson came for his baggage, as he called it, and after the furniture was stowed away, smith brought down the little girl, and gave into her hand a very small bundle of clothes, bidding her tell no tales, or she should find she was in his power yet. she was put into the wagon, on top of the furniture, and the old man, whose face was red, and whose breath smelt of liquor, set off at a smart pace. it was late in the evening before they reached the solitary and desolate farm-house, which jackson called his home: margaret scrambled out as best she could, and entered the dwelling. although it was now late in the autumn, there was no fire upon the hearth, and the room looked to the last degree dismal. it had something more of a habitable aspect when the furniture was brought in, but it was evident that no "neat-handed phillis" had been accustomed to range through the house; and the spiders had provided the only ornaments to be found anywhere about, by hanging the walls with tapestry, which certainly could not be produced in the looms of france. margaret found that there were two other inhabitants of this neglected house--jackson's wife, a sad, heart-broken woman, only too evidently in a dying condition, and a son of about fifteen, rude, stubborn, and rebellious, whose only good-feeling seemed to be love to his poor mother. jackson brought out some food, of which margaret stood greatly in need, and she was then happy to be allowed to retire to the loft allotted to her, as she was exhausted by the ride and the agitation of mind she had gone through during the past week. miserable as was her attic, she slept soundly until waked by the sun shining into her eyes: she quickly dressed, but did not escape a scolding from her sullen master, who commanded her to make a fire, and get his breakfast for him. margaret was remarkably quick and handy for a child of her age, as her affection to her mother and grandfather had prompted her to do many little things for them which so young a girl seldom thinks of; but her delicate white fingers were unused to menial tasks, and to make a fire was quite beyond the circle of her accomplishments. jackson then called upon his son to do it, but told her that he should not make it a second time, and grumbled and swore at her while he remained in the house. it is astonishing how human nature can adapt itself to circumstances, so that the thing which we must do we can do: little margaret, who had ever been so tenderly nurtured, soon learned to make the fire, to sweep the rooms, and cook the meals. not in the most scientific manner, truly; her cookery would scarcely have been approved by kitchener, glass, or soyer, but it was done to the best of her slender ability. while poor mrs. jackson lived, maggie had at least the satisfaction of feeling that her efforts to please her were understood: the grateful look, the languid smile, and the half-expressed pity for the little slave, who was now to fill her place, reminded the child of her mother, and made her more contented with her situation. but when, exhausted by the life of hardship and cruelty which the drunkard's wife must ever experience, mrs. jackson slept her last sleep, and went to the home appointed for all the living, "where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest," then the little girl had none to feel for her. in a few days, the boy, bill jackson, told her that now his mother was dead, he wasn't such a fool as to stay there to be kicked and starved by his father; he intended to run off and go to sea, and he advised her too "to make herself scarce" as soon as she could. when he had gone, all the brutality which had been divided between the mother and son, was now visited on the innocent head of little maggie; and unassisted even by counsel, she had to perform all the household tasks. if she had received kind words in payment, she could have overlooked many of the hardships of her condition; but these she never got. let her be as diligent and pains taking as she would, severity and reproaches were all she met: jackson was always sullen and morose in the morning, and at night, frequent potations from a large stone jug worked him up to a passion. then he would knock the furniture about, throw chairs at margaret's head if she came in his way, and swear in such a dreadful manner that the little girl was glad to seek shelter in her cold and cheerless loft, where at least she could be alone, and could pray to the one friend she had left. as the winter advanced, the child's sufferings greatly increased. the cold was intense, the situation a bleak one, and the old farm-house full of cracks and crannies which admitted the winter winds. her clothing was of a thin description, and nearly worn out by hard usage: at night also, in her airy loft, she was often kept awake by the cold, or cried herself to sleep. but the more severe the weather was, the more did jackson think it needful to take something a little warming, and the stone jug was frequently replenished: of course his temper became more violent, and margaret was the sufferer. she kept out of the way as much as possible, but had no place to which she could retreat, except her loft. here she would frequently solace herself by bringing out her medallion, which, according to her mother's directions, she wore next her heart, and gazing upon the beloved countenances of her parents--this dying gift was the only relic she had left of former times. one day a snow-storm set in, which reminded her of those she had seen among her own scottish hills, where the drifts are so great that the shepherd frequently loses his life in returning to his distant home. the wind was piercing, and the snow was so driven about that you could scarcely see a few feet before you; and by evening it lay in deep piles against the door, and around the house. jackson had of course resorted to the whiskey jug very frequently during the day, for consolation; and little margaret, seeing him more than usually excited, had sought refuge in the cold and dismal loft, wrapping herself up as well as she could. as she sat there, shivering, and thinking how differently she was situated on the last snow-storm she remembered, when she was seated on a little stool, between her mother and grandfather, holding a hand of each, before a large blazing fire, and listening to beautiful tales--she heard jackson call her name in savage tones. she hastened, but before she could get down the ladder which led to the room below, he called her again and again, each time more fiercely so that her heart trembled like a leaf upon a tree, dreading to meet his rage. he received her with oaths and abuse; called her a lazy little wretch, who did not earn the bread she eat, and commanded her to bring in an armful of wood from the pile, as the fire was going out. she ventured to tell him that she had already tried to find some, but ineffectually; in some places the snow was above her head, and the air was so thick with it, now that night had come on, that she could not see before her. but the violent man would take no excuse: he drove her out with threats, and long she groped about, vainly trying to discover the wood, which was completely hidden by the snow. her hands and feet became numb, and she felt that she _must_ return to the house, if he killed her--she would otherwise die of the cold. she came, timidly crawling into the room--the moment her master saw her, he started up; fury made him look like a demon. seizing a stick of wood which still remained, he assailed her violently: the child, so tender hearted, and so delicately reared, who could be recalled to duty by one glance of the eye, was now subjected to the chastisement of a brutal, insensate drunkard! at last he stopped, but his rage was not exhausted. opening the door, he told her never to darken it again--never more should she dare to show herself within his house. falling upon her knees, the little girl besought him with tears not to expel her--she had no one to go to, no father, no mother to take care of her. if she was driven out into the snow, she should die with cold--if he would only allow her to stay that night, she would leave on the morrow, if he wished it! but tears and prayers were unavailing; all of man he had ever had in his nature was now brutified by strong drink; as well might she have knelt to the tiger thirsting for blood, as to him. driving her out with a curse, he shut and bolted the door. the depths of distress call up energies, even in the childish heart which have never been felt before. what was there upon earth to revive the spirit of the little orphan, so utterly deserted, so ready to perish? nothing. but there was something in heaven--and within that girlish bosom there lived a faith in the unseen realities, which might well have shamed many an older person. with her uncovered head exposed to the falling snow, she knelt down, and this time she bent the knee to no hard, cruel master; but with the confidence of filial love, she uttered her fervent prayer to him who is a very present help in time of trouble. she called upon her father to save a little helpless orphan; or, if it were his will, to take her up to heaven--"_thy_ will be done." and she rose with a tranquillity and calm determination which many would have deemed impossible in one so young; but there is a promise, and many weak ones can testify to its fulfilment, "as thy day, so shall thy strength be." margaret went onward towards the public road: there was no farm-house nearer than about a mile, and the child greatly doubted her ability to reach it; but she had resolved to persevere in her efforts, while any power remained in her muscles, any vital warmth in her heart. onward went that little child, painfully, but still steadily onward; she struggled against the drowsiness that attacked her, but at last she began to feel that she could do no more. but yield not yet to despair, thou gentle and brave orphan! one stronger than thou has come to thy assistance. for hearest thou not the subdued sound of horses' hoofs scattering the snow? thou art saved! a traveller approaches, made of other stuff than the crafty smiths and the brutal jacksons of the earth,--he sees that slight childish figure, that bare head, those failing steps,--he thinks of his own little ones at home, seated by the sparkling fire, and awaiting his return. he is not one of those who hold the creed of impious cain, "am i my brother's keeper?" but, instead, he is a follower of the good samaritan, or rather, i should say, of him who taught that lesson and practised it, seeking and saving those who were lost. he stopped his horse. "my little girl, what are you doing out of doors on a night like this? you will be frozen to death. why are you not at home with your father and mother?" "i wish i were!" she said. "they are both dead--i wish i were with them!" "but, my child, you must have a home; why are you out on such a stormy night?" "i have no home, sir," replied poor margaret. "i lived at the nearest farm-house, but my master was angry with me for not bringing in the wood, and beat me, and turned me out of doors; and i shall die of cold very soon, unless you take care of me, sir." "poor little deserted one!" said the gentleman, jumping off from his horse. "such a tiny thing as she, cannot have done any thing very bad--and to send her out to die! poor child! god sent me to you, and i will surely take care of you." so saying, he took off his cloak, lined with warm fur, and shaking the snow from her hair and clothes, carefully wrapped it around her, and placed her in front of him upon his horse. "my good, thoughtful wife!" said he; "when i laughed at you this morning for insisting upon my wearing this cloak outside my great-coat, little did i think it would save a precious life--i always do find it to my advantage to mind your womanly, wifely instincts. and now, little girl, we will go home as fast as we can--i will try to keep jack frost away from you with this cloak." urging his horse onward, mr. norton, for that was the good man's name, every now and then spoke cheerily to the child whom he sustained with one arm, striving to keep her awake, and telling her of the bright warm fire she should see when they got home. at last they arrived there: when mr. norton jumped off his horse, margaret saw that they had come to a small town, which looked very pretty as the snow lay upon the roofs and fences. before he could ring, the door flew open, and the warm light, which looked like an embodiment of the love and happiness of home and fireside pleasures, streamed out upon the pure, cold snow, revealing, to the group within doors, the father carefully holding his burden. "dear father! are you not almost perished?" cried his oldest son, frederic, a manly little fellow, muffled up in cap, and coat, and worsted scarf. "you must let me take old charlie to the stable, and come in yourself and thaw--you see i am all ready." "well, my son, i believe i will; particularly as i have a bundle here that i must take care of." "what has father got?" said the younger children, wonderingly. "why, it as large as a bag of potatoes!" "i have brought you home a little sister, children," mr. norton replied, entering the sitting-room and unwrapping poor margaret. "my dear wife, i found this child upon the road, almost perished with cold: she is an orphan, and was cruelly treated by the wretch of a master who turned her out of doors to-night. only look at her thin, worn-out gingham dress--and at the holes in her shoes!" "poor little lamb!" said mrs. norton, gazing on her with a mother's pity--blessed effect of paternal and maternal love, that it opens the heart to all helpless little ones! "don't cry, my dear, you will not be turned out of this house!" "indeed, i cannot help it, ma'am; you are so very kind--like my mother." "but, wife and children, we must not stand here talking; we must get a tub of cold water, and keep her hands and feet in it for some time, or she will be all frost-bitten. sally, my child, you need not place that chair for her so near the fire, for she cannot sit there: help your mother to bring the water." sally, although rather younger than little margaret, was a large child for her age, and while the latter was getting thawed, and the good mother was making a warming drink, she hunted up her thickest clothes, and begged that the poor stranger might wear them. "and may she not sleep with me to-night, mother?" "oh no, mother, let her sleep with us," said kate and lucy, the two younger children. "i am glad to see you want to have her with you," replied their mother, "but as sally is the nearest her age, and spoke the first, i think i must gratify her. but if kate and lucy wish it, she may sit between them at table." "thank you, thank you, dear mother, that will be pleasant. oh how glad we are we have a new sister!" soon was the story of the orphan's trials confided to the sympathizing ears of those who had now adopted her as one of themselves, and soon did the little girl feel at home in that household of love. every day, as it developed her warm feelings, her lively gratitude, and the intrinsic worth of a character which seemed to inherit the virtues of her pious ancestors, attached her new friends to her more closely. mrs. norton declared that margaret was the best child she had ever seen, and perfectly invaluable to her: if she did not keep her because it was her duty, and because she loved her, she certainly would as a daily pattern to her own children. and besides, she had such pretty manners, and knew so much, that it was better than sending the children to school, to have them with her. if i were making up a story for your entertainment, my dear nieces and nephews, i should tell you that margaret always lived with this admirable family, in perfect happiness, and that when she became a woman she married frederic, the oldest son, thus keeping the place of a daughter in the house. but i am telling you the truth, which, you know, is often stranger than fiction, and often sadder also. in stories, good people are generally rewarded with uninterrupted prosperity, just as some very judicious parents give their children plum-cake and sweetmeats when they say their lessons well and do not scratch each others' eyes out. but it is not so in the real world: the all-wise father above, acts on other principles. he knows that his children require evil, as well as good, and that the best soil will become dry, hard, and sterile, if the sun always shines upon it;--therefore it is that he sends dark, heavy clouds and gloomy days. unwise and unthankful as we are, we grievously complain; but the showers still descend, and when we least expect it, behold the beautiful sun! all nature is again gay and joyous: the birds sing cheerily, the flowers raise up their dripping heads, new blossoms are put forth, and, to use the language of scripture, the little hills skip like rams, the valleys shout, they also sing, and all the trees of the field do clap their hands. my heroine is still under the cloud of adversity, sharing in the fate of her protectors, and lightening their trials by her ready hand and most affectionate heart. two years after she entered mr. norton's home, her benefactor was taken ill, and lingered for some months before he was transferred to that better mansion which is provided for each one of the faithful. sad was the desolation caused by his death. i will not speak of the sorrow of the widow and of the orphans--you can all imagine that--but, in addition, they were deprived of their home, and cast out upon the world. after the bills were paid--the physician's, the apothecary's, and the undertaker's, in addition to those necessarily contracted for the household while the father was earning nothing, mrs. norton found that not a penny was left her. selling what she could, she removed to philadelphia, where she had resided in her youth, thinking that she could easily obtain employment for her needle, and so support her young family, while they shared the advantages of our excellent system of public schools. but she found herself friendless and unknown in the great city, with many competitors for a very little sewing; and she came to the conclusion that it is the very poorest way by which a woman can support herself. she obtained a situation for frederic in a store, where he receives rather more than is necessary for his own wants; and, removing to the country, she took a little cottage for the sum which one room would have cost her in town. frederic is able to pay her rent: and when she is well, with the aid of our little margaret, she can maintain herself and her helpless children in tolerable comfort. thus the orphan has it in her power to repay the kindness shown to her, and by exercising the noble virtue of gratitude, to rise daily higher in the scale of being." "dear aunty!" cried amy, with all eagerness, "have you not been telling us the story of _our_ mrs. norton, and that pretty little adopted daughter of hers, with the large, deep blue eyes?" "you have guessed my riddle, amy," replied her aunt, smiling. "i called there this morning while you were all out--while george was amusing himself by falling into the pond--and heard the whole history from the sick woman's lips. i felt so deeply interested in it, that i thought you could spend an hour worse than in listening to the simple tale." "are you sure that you have not embellished it?" asked mr. wyndham, with a smile. "quite sure: for, although i filled up a few gaps in the narrative by using my very common-place imagination, i assure you that all the facts are substantially the same. and i don't doubt that if i had witnessed the scenes described, i should have been able to make my story far more pathetic, and far more romantic, because it would then have been a daguerreotype of the truth. i have talked with little margaret herself, and certainly i have never seen a more engaging and lovely child. at my urgent request, she consented to lend me her precious medallion for a few days--and here it is." "what a spiritual, poetical face!" exclaimed mr. wyndham. "i declare it reminds me of a portrait of schiller which i once saw." "and the mother, too--there is no doubt of that woman being a real lady," said ellen. "did you ever see a sweeter, gentler countenance?" "never," replied alice. "but, uncle, do you not know that i have an idea? i guessed all along that margaret roscoe was _our_ little friend--but i feel sure that rascal of a smith was lying, when he said he had seen her uncle's death in the paper. it's not very likely such a fellow as he was, would object to telling an untruth! he only wanted to get her trunks, and to quiet her, you may be sure. and i believe that mr. alan roscoe is now living in philadelphia--and i believe that i know him, uncle!" her uncle started, and exclamations of surprise and delight burst from all the circle. "it might very well be," mr. wyndham said; "i remember thinking our amiable friend smith was speaking an untruth, at the time, although i did not carry out the idea. but do you know any one of that name, alice? surely, it cannot be mr. roscoe, the retired merchant, who is so prominent for his benevolence and liberality?" "yes, sir, it is--i am intimate with his oldest child, carrie. and i know that he is a scotchman, and they used to live in charleston, and his name is alan, and his little boy is called malcom! that's after margaret's father, i am sure. carrie told me he had been named after an uncle in scotland who was dead!" "is it possible?" replied mr. wyndham. "it really does look like it--if it be actually so, my dear wife, here is another reverse of fortune for your heroine, which you did not expect. the contrast would be great indeed, between the little whitewashed cottage, and the magnificent mansion on walnut-street!" "i hope it will not turn her head!" said charlie bolton. "there is little fear of that, i think," rejoined mrs. wyndham. "margaret has early been tried in the furnace of affliction, and she has come out gold: i believe she really possesses that gospel charity, one of the marks of which is, that it is not, and cannot be, puffed up. but what shall we do? shall we tell her of our hopes?" "by no means," replied her husband. "it would only excite expectations which, after all, may be disappointed--although i am strongly convinced that our suppositions are correct. for the first time in my life, i regret that to-morrow will be sunday; but early on monday morning i shall set out for the city, and for mr. roscoe's house or counting-room. with my good wife's permission, i will take this medallion with me, and show it to mr. roscoe--then i shall know in a moment if he is really margaret's uncle." "will you be so kind as to take me with you?" asked a dozen voices at once. "no, i will not," replied mr. wyndham, laughing. "the carriage cannot possibly hold you all. if alice wishes it, i will take her, both as a reward for her quickness in making this discovery, and as a means of introduction to mr. roscoe, with whom i am not acquainted. and if our surmises prove correct, i expect to bring mr. roscoe back with me, which is another reason for not riding twenty or thirty in a carriage." "oh, uncle! uncle! twenty or thirty!" "well, you are a baker's dozen, at least, that you cannot deny. i quite long to get to town! i believe i am as much of a boy as harry, there, or lewis--i _really_ wish i could put off sunday just for one day, i am so impatient!" "it will be an admirable exercise of your noblest faculties, uncle," said cornelia, slyly. "i am rather impatient myself, even at my mature age. but the _moral discipline_, uncle, that is so invaluable that we ought not to wish it to be otherwise." "ah, you witch! i believe in my heart this is your revenge for my refusing to take you to town with me," rejoined her uncle. "not a bit of it--i bear no malice--it is only my native and unconquerable pertness, which i sometimes fear may get me into a difficulty with some one yet. but i am not at all afraid of you, dear uncle; i know you understand that it's only my way." "certainly, certainly; i should be a cross old fellow if i wished to repress your youthful spirits." "but, uncle," said charlie bolton, "couldn't you put off sunday as dean swift, or somebody or other, put off the eclipse? that would obviate all the difficulty." "i never heard that story," cried george wyndham, "but every one knows about 'hail columbia' _putting on_ an eclipse." "i don't, i must own," replied cornelia, laughing. "do tell it straight, if you can, you monkey." "i'll try, my own true sister. if it wasn't hail columbia, it was columbus, and that's all one, the whole world knows. when the indians began to discover that the spaniards were not gods, as they at first thought, they became a little obstreperous, and wanted to starve them out--quite natural, under the circumstances. but columbus, from his knowledge of astronomy, was aware that a total eclipse of the moon would take place the next night. so he called a meeting of the natives, and informed them that they had brought upon themselves the vengeance of the great spirit by their conduct--that at a certain hour, the light of the moon would be nearly put out, and its orb would look like blood, as a sign to them of the displeasure of heaven. and when the poor creatures really saw it happen as he had said, they were nearly frightened to death, and came to him, laden with provisions, and begging him to pray to the great spirit, that he might remove his wrath from them. now i call that putting on an eclipse." "the funniest circumstance in relation to an eclipse, happened to me," said mrs. wyndham. "when i was a very small child, i thought that quite as great a miracle was about to happen, as the indians did. you must know that there came to philadelphia a certain famous race-horse named eclipse, of whose speed great marvels were told. handbills about him were thrown into the house, and i thought he must really be a wonderful animal. just at that epoch, i heard my father say something about an eclipse that night, and the moon in connection with it. my imagination was instantly fired. "did you say, father, that eclipse would go over the _moon_? why, can that be true?" "oh yes, my dear, the eclipse is really going over the moon: if you wish it, you can stay up till nine o'clock, to see it." "thank you, thank you, i should like to very much. but i don't see how it can be!" "more wonderful things than that happen, my child: you'll understand it better when you are older; but you shall see it to-night, if you are not too sleepy." "no danger of that--i wouldn't miss it for the world!" "how much interest little lucy seems to feel in the eclipse, mother!" said my father. "we must certainly let her stay up." night came on, and the show began. the best seat at an upper window was reserved for me, and i looked at the moon constantly, afraid that if i turned away my eyes for one moment the wonderful event might take place without my observing it. all were interested in my seeing it. "lucy, do you see it, dear i do you see the moon getting dark?" "oh yes, i see that, but i don't see eclipse." "why, that's the eclipse--when the dark shadow goes over the moon, that is an eclipse of the moon." "but i don't see the horse jumping over the moon, at all." "the _horse_? what do you mean, child?" "you said that eclipse was to go over the moon, but i can't see him in the least!" "oh, auntie! were you, really, such a _green_ child as that?" "yes, it is a literal fact. i thought it a most astonishing thing that it could happen; but since my father so gravely said it would, my faith was equal to the demand made upon it. when i found it was only something about the shadow of the earth falling on the moon, i went to bed, grievously disappointed and quite disgusted: i felt somewhat as the amiable smith did, that i had been _sold_." "ah, auntie, we children could not be taken in so now, i can tell you!" said lewis. "i know it," replied his aunt, smiling. "i am quite aware that the age of faith has passed away, and that republican institutions have made the young ones as wise and incredulous as their elders. i don't half like it myself!" chapter vi. sunday.--bible stories.--capping bible verses.--bible class. sunday morning arose upon the earth, so clear, and calm, and beautiful, that it almost seemed as if it were conscious of the blessings bestowed by it upon millions of the human family. happy day! when the man bent under the heavy load of oppressive labor and corroding care, may take the rest which the maker of his frame intended for him, from the very beginning. now, throwing off the weight, he can realize that he is a man--made in the image of his creator, and made for happiness and immortality. now, he can afford to think: he is no longer the mechanical drudge; he is no longer one little wheel in the great social machine; he is to-day a reflecting being, and the desire for mental and spiritual elevation throbs strongly within his heart. he sits at his hearth, whether in the proud palace or in the humble cottage, for the working-man is equally to be found in both, and feels himself to be the centre of the home. he enjoys sweet converse with the wife of his youth, and his children cluster round him, delighted to have his society. he walks to the house of prayer, surrounded by those he loves, and joins with his fellow-men in adoration of the great supreme. he is happy, and is prepared by the sweet sabbaths below for the bliss above. nor should we forget, on this day, the numerous attractive circles to be found throughout our highly-favored land, gathered together for sunday-school instruction. here, the voluntary system works to a charm: both teachers and scholars, drawn together by love, assemble, with sparkling eyes and kindly words, in their respective classes. here, all ages can find something to interest them: the rosy-cheeked, chubby child runs along to its infant school, fearing to be one moment behind the time, and singing, "oh, let us be joyful, joyful, joyful," with a full understanding of at least that part of the duty to be performed. and the adult walks quietly to the bible class, where mutual study and conversation about some passages of the sacred word elicit its meaning, and throw new light upon the holy page. and, in the ages intermediate between these two extremes, how bright and joyous are the groups clustered around each loving teacher! if the toil be great, how much greater the reward! how delightful is it to see the young mind expand, and the warm affections glow, beneath the hallowing influence of religion! and how pleasant and how good is it to find the hearts of adults and of children, of rich and poor, knit together by a common feeling of interest in the common cause! some such thoughts arose in the minds of our party at the grange, and were fostered by the lovely calm of nature, which is so observable on sunday in the country, where the very animals seem to know that they are included within the merciful commandment of rest. mr. wyndham was religiously observant of the day, but exceedingly disliked the gloom by which many worthy people think it a duty to lessen their own happiness, and to throw a chill and constraint upon that of others on this joyful festival. he thought that the weekly commemoration of the saviour's resurrection should fill us with bright hopes and an enlivening piety; and that an air of cheerfulness should be thrown around it, which might say to all who had not yet entered within the gates of zion, "come ye, and taste that the lord is gracious." people are doubtless much affected, in these minor shades of difference, by their natural temperaments. mr. wyndham's frame of mind was so kindly and hopeful, and so open to all that is pleasant and animating, that his religion partook of the genial influence. on sunday, his face beamed with a more radiant smile than on other days, and he appeared to realize that it was indeed the foretaste of eternal joy. in the morning, both old and young repaired with one consent to the little country church, in which they filled up quite a number of pews. being the last sunday in the year, the venerable clergyman, whose earnest manner and silver hairs made his message doubly impressive to the hearts of his hearers, exhorted all, of every age, to bring back to their minds the fleeting days of that division of time which was so soon to pass away, and to be numbered with those laid up against the judgment. when that year had begun, what resolutions of improvement had been formed, what vows of greater fidelity had been made? and how had they been kept? all had, during the seasons past, received new proofs of the kindness and long-suffering of the father above; but had the goodness of the lord led them to repentance? or had it fallen upon hard, unfeeling hearts, which it could not penetrate? how stood they in their accounts? not their ledgers, not their cash-books did he now call upon them to examine; but records of a far higher character, which affected their heavenly interests, as well as their temporal prosperity--the deeds, the words, the cherished feelings of that year, which had left an impress upon their souls forever, and made them richer or poorer for eternity. they owed debts to their maker and redeemer, and to their fellow-men: how had they paid them? they continually received--did they also dispense the goodness of god? if unwilling now to think of these unsettled accounts, they should remember that one debt, notwithstanding all their reluctance, they would be obliged to pay--the debt of nature: and then would follow the final adjustment of all things--then would each one reap as he had sowed below. all listened with deep attention to the discourse, which was well calculated to arrest the most careless trifler; and thoughts were suggested, and resolves were formed that day, which acted, long afterward, as a stimulus to the discharge of duty. the hand which scattered that precious seed has since been laid low in the dust; but the "winged words" did not fall to the ground: they still live, and produce results, in immortal spirits. there was no service in the afternoon. "oh dear!" said george, "i suppose it's not right to say so, but it's rather stupid, i think. how we do miss sunday school! we can't play to-day, and a fellow like me doesn't want to read the whole time: what on earth can we do? cousin mary, are you too much engaged with your book to help us poor souls?" with a smile, mary shut it up. "how would you like bible stories?" said she. "if you please, i'll tell you one, keeping to scriptural facts, but clothing them in my own language, and omitting the name, or giving a false one. and then you are to find out whom it is i have been telling you about, and to answer the questions i may ask you. how would you like that?" it was agreed that it would be delightful: so mary began by telling the story of the good grandmother. in ancient times, in a country of the east, there lived a queen dowager, whose heart was eaten up by ambition. she was a king's daughter, and had ever been accustomed to rule. while her husband lived she had exerted great influence at court, and had turned away his heart from the true and established religion of the state to the cruel worship of the idols of her native land; and this she accomplished, although he had been religiously educated, and was the son of an eminently good man. little did it affect her, that a highly-distinguished prophet of god wrote a letter to the king her husband, foretelling the evils that should befall himself, his family, and his kingdom, and that this prophecy had been literally fulfilled. little did it humble her proud spirit, that by the common consent, her degenerate husband, who, through _her_ persuasions and example, had been led away from the path of duty, was judged unworthy to be interred within the sepulchres of his ancestors, and was buried apart. she had too much of her mother within her to be daunted by such trifles as these; for both of her parents had acquired an eminence in wickedness which have made their names by-words: but her mother's especially is considered almost a synonym for every thing that is unlovely in woman. after her husband's death, her son succeeded to the throne, and he also did wickedly, for he had been educated under his mother's eyes, trod in her footsteps, and courted the society of her connections. and this was the cause of his death; for while paying a visit at the court of his uncle, her brother, they both were killed together in a successful insurrection. and now, if ever, if any thing of the woman was left in her nature, the queen's heart would be softened and humbled: at one fell swoop, death had carried off her only son, her brother, and every member of her father's house; she only was left, of all that proud and numerous family. her aged mother, aged, but not venerable, although now a great-grandmother, had met her fate in a characteristic manner. determined, if she must die, to do so like a queen, she had put on her royal robes, and adorned herself with jewels, and caused her withered face, upon which every evil passion had left its mark, to be painted into some semblance of youth and beauty. her eyelids were stained with the dark antimony still used in the east, to restore, if possible, the former brilliant softness to eyes of hard, blazing, wicked blackness. gazing from an upper window of the palace upon the usurper, as he drove into the courtyard, the fearless woman, resolved to show her spirit to the last, railed upon him, and quoted a notable instance from history of one who, like him, had been a successful rebel, but had reigned for only seven days. enraged at her insolence, her enemy, looking up, asked, "who in the palace is on my side?" at these words, some officers of the household cast her down from the window: thus ingloriously she died, and the prancing horses of the chariot trampled over her. he who now was universally acknowledged to be the king, soon gave orders that she should be buried, observing that, wretch as she was, she was of royal blood. but the vulture and the jackal had been before him: naught remained of that haughty, revengeful, and heaven-defying woman, save the skull, the feet, and the palms of her hands. thus, to the very letter, was fulfilled the prediction of a prophet, one of her contemporaries: it was the same individual who had sent an epistle to her son-in-law, the late husband of our heroine, announcing his fate. this fearless reprover of kings did not live to see the accomplishment of the divine messages he was commissioned to deliver, and yet he had not died: read me that riddle, if you can. when the queen, who, from one distinguishing act of her life, i have called _the good grandmother_, heard the sad tidings of the death of her only son, of her mother, and of all her kin, what did she? mourn, and weep, and give herself up to melancholy? she was quite incapable of such weakness. if she had no children left, she at least had grandchildren--she must take care of them--the tender little playful babes, her own flesh and blood, and all that was left upon the earth of her late son. and she did take care of them--the care that pharaoh took of the israelitish infants--the care that herod took of the nurslings at bethlehem--the care that the tiger takes of the lamb. she was worse than the tigress; for the latter will at least defend her young ones from all attacks, even at the peril of her own life. but she--shame of her sex!--commanded the immediate execution of all the children of her son, that she might reign alone, and never be called upon to resign the sceptre to a lawful heir. they are slain! the shouts and laughter of that band of little ones is stopped forever--the galleries will never more re-echo to their youthful voices; vainly did they rush into the arms of their nurses for protection. they are slain; all save one! for if they have a grandmother they also have an aunt, and one who is ruled by different principles. she is the sister of their father, but probably had not the same mother as he: she early chose the paths of piety and goodness, and was wedded to a man of uncommon firmness and of the noblest character--the high priest of the nation. soon as she had an intimation of the intentions of the queen, she hastened to the palace. but one only could she save--a little crowing babe, whom, with his nurse, she secreted in a safe place, until, under cover of the night, she was able to convey them to her own abode. there, in the house of the lord, the young child was reared. for six years he was hidden, and tenderly and carefully trained in the fear of god, while his grandmother reigned supreme in the land, to the subversion of all law and order. but when the prince was seven years old, the high priest, his uncle, took measures to secure to him the possession of his rights. he consulted with the wisest of the nation, and brought together the levites from all parts of the land, and divided them into bands, giving each a particular post, to guard against surprise. he then brought forth from the treasuries of the temple the spears, shields, and bucklers which had belonged to king david, and distributed them among the captains of the several divisions. when all arrangements were made, and the people who were gathered together in the spacious courts for worship, waited to see what was about to happen, he retired; and came back, in his priestly garments, with the mitre upon his head, on which was written, on a golden plate, holiness to the lord--this sentence showing the intention of the priestly office. his robe, or under-garment, which hung in rich folds down to his feet, was of deep blue, and around the hem were alternate pomegranates of brilliant colors, and little golden bells, which made a tinkling sound as he moved along. above this was worn the ephod, splendidly embroidered in gold, and blue, and purple, and scarlet, with a long and broad girdle at the waist, manufactured of the same gorgeous materials. upon his bosom flashed the breastplate, composed of twelve large precious stones, all different, upon each one of which was engraved the name of a tribe of israel; so that the high priest bore them all upon his heart, when he ministered before the lord. well was this magnificent dress, which was made "for glory and for beauty," calculated to set off the dignity of the holy office, and to make the people gaze in admiring awe. but it was not the splendor of the pontifical robes, it was not the inspiring person of the high priest, at which the assembled multitudes eagerly gazed, when the head of the church again appeared before them. it was a little boy, of seven years old, who now attracted their attention--a pretty child, arrayed in royal garments, who was led forward by the venerable man. his stand was taken beside a pillar, and the guards, with drawn swords, gathered round him: his uncle placed upon his clustering curls the golden circlet, the symbol of how much power, what heavy cares, and what fearful responsibility! and when the people, long crushed to the earth by tyrannical rule, beheld it, hope again awaked in their hearts, and, with one accord, they clapped their hands, and shouted out, "god save the king!" and the trumpeters sounded aloud, and the harpers struck up the notes of praise and joy, and the full choir of trained singers joined in the jubilee. and thus was the young king proclaimed--while, in the innocence of childhood, he wonderingly looked on. but the queen heard the shouts in her palace. for the first time in her life, it is most probable, she came to the house of god--but she came not to worship. "what means this riotous assembly?" she thought. "can it be, that the vile rabble dare to think of revolt--against _me_? i will go, even alone, and awe them by my presence: it shall never be said that my mother's daughter feared aught in heaven above or the earth beneath." she went, that audacious woman, with all her crimes upon her head, and entered alone into the temple of the holy one. she went to her death. the people made way for her, although they gazed upon her with loathing; and within the sanctuary she beheld the grandson, whom she had long thought to be numbered with the dead, in royal array, with the crown upon his head. when she saw this, she rent her clothes, and cried loudly, "treason! treason!" but none joined in the cry: an ominous silence pervaded that vast assembly, and looks of hatred were cast upon her from the crowd. seeing plainly that all were against her, her insolent pride gave way, and she turned to flee from that mass of stern, relentless eyes, all gazing, as it were, into her black and blood-stained heart. as she passed along, the people shrank back, as if an accursed thing were near them; and when she had passed from the consecrated limits, she was slain. none shed a tear over her grave, but the people enjoyed rest and peace, now that her tyranny was terminated. "and that was the end of her!" said george. "and well she deserved her fate. a good grandmother, indeed! but who was she?" "that's the very thing i want to know," replied mary. "but perhaps some of you can tell me who her very lovely mother was?" "there is no mistaking her," said amy. "there is only one jezebel in the world, i hope. think of the horrid old thing, painting herself off, and trying to look like a beauty! i wonder if she thought she could possibly captivate the murderer of her son!" "hardly that, i should think. perhaps it was on the same principle that julius cæsar drew his robe around him, before his death--an idea of the proprieties becoming the station they occupied. it reminds me of a passage in pope, describing 'the ruling passion strong in death:' "'odious--in woollen! 'twould a saint provoke,' (were the last words that poor narcissa spoke;) no, let a charming chintz and brussels' lace wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face; one would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead: and--betty--give this cheek a little red.' and now, can you tell me who was that prophet that sent a letter to the husband of 'the good grandmother,' and who predicted the fate of her parents, ahab and jezebel?" "he who did not _live to see_ their accomplishment, and yet was not dead," said cornelia. "oh, i remember well about that: it was elijah, the tishbite, who had ascended to heaven without dying. by the way, how do you understand that saying of elisha's, mary--'my father, my father! the chariot of israel, and the horsemen thereof?' i never knew rightly whether the latter part of his exclamation referred to the ascending prophet, or to the chariot and horses of fire." "i once asked our clergyman that very question; and he told me that it alluded to elijah himself, and meant to say, that he was the defence of the country, and a whole host in himself: comprising cavalry, and those heavy chariots filled with warriors, and armed with scythes on either side, which did such deadly execution in ancient warfare. i suppose elisha thought, how can _i_, how can our country exist without you!" "i remember now the name of 'the good grandmother,'" said ellen, smiling. "it was athaliah--and a worthy daughter she was for ahab and jezebel to leave as a legacy to the world. and her son was ahaziah, who was killed in samaria, while on a visit to his uncle, king jehoram. and now i think some one else should tell who the usurper was, under whose chariot-wheels the wicked jezebel was slain." "it was jehu, the furious driver," answered her brother tom; "the same eminently pious individual who invited a friend to 'go with him and see his zeal for the lord,' when he intended to murder the rest of ahab's relations. a fine way of showing goodness, that!" "and who was the good aunt?" "you must really let me look for that," said amy, getting a bible. "it was jehosheba, and her husband, the high priest, was named jehoiada, and the little king was joash, or jehoash. i'm sorry to see that he was only kept straight by his uncle: as soon as he died, the young monarch, appears to have become as bad as any of them." "and now, cousin mary, tell us another story!" said harry. "very well, if you wish it. i'll call this tale the prophet and the fortune-tellers. in former times there was a king of judah, an excellent man, who, through some unaccountable ideas of policy, had entered into an alliance with a very wicked king of israel, and had even encouraged his son to marry the daughter of his idolatrous neighbor. on one occasion, he was paying a visit to his ally, when the latter proposed to him that they should join together in recovering a city which had formerly belonged to the jewish nation, from their enemy, the king of syria. he replied, that they were of one blood, and had but one interest, and that he should most gladly aid him; but cautiously added, that it was his particular wish that god's oracle should be consulted, as he did not like to undertake any thing without his direction. to gratify this superstitious whim, as he considered it, the israelitish monarch collected together about four hundred false prophets, who were ready to say any thing that would give him pleasure, and asked whether he should or should not go up against the city. of course, they obsequiously replied, "go up; for the lord shall deliver it into the hand of the king." but the king of judah wag not satisfied. he had seen real, true prophets of god, and they had neither looked nor acted like these very smooth, courtier-like men. he mistrusted these pretenders, and said to his brother-monarch, "is there not another, a prophet of jehovah, of whom we could inquire the lord's will?" the latter answered, "yes, there _is_ another man; but i did not send for him, for i hate the very sight of his face. instead of predicting good, he makes a point of foretelling evil; i detest that man." but his more amiable and pious friend said, "pray, do not speak so, your highness: it is not right." seeing that he was unwilling to go until he had consulted the prophet, the king of israel ordered the latter to be sent for. the two sovereigns awaited him in state, in their royal robes upon their thrones, at the large open space always left in oriental cities at the entrance of the gates, for public meetings, business, and courts of justice. before the messenger returned, the false prophets had renewed their predictions of a safe and successful career to the two kings; and one of them had distinguished himself by making horns of iron, which he placed upon his head, agreeably to the allegorical style of the east, and said: "thus shalt thou push against thy enemies, and shalt overcome them, until they be utterly consumed." meanwhile, the royal messenger approached with the prophet; and being a good-natured man and a courtier, he begged the latter not to affront his master, by speaking differently from the other seers, who all, with one accord, joined in predicting peace and success. but the undaunted man of god replied, that what jehovah revealed to him he would speak, neither more nor less. at last, they arrived in the presence of royalty; and the king of israel said to him, "speak, and declare the counsel of god: shall we go up against the city, or shall we abandon our undertaking?" with a manner of cutting irony--for he well knew that the monarch neither cared to know the will of the lord, nor would obey it, when known--the prophet answered, quoting the language of the fortune-tellers around him: "go up, and prosper; for the lord will deliver it into the hand of the king." but it was so evident that there was something behind this satire, that the idolatrous prince replied to him, "how often must i be compelled to tell you to speak the truth, and to declare the will of heaven?" then the prophet spoke, and this time the mockery had vanished from his tone and manner, and his voice was serious and sad: "i see a vision that distresses me: all israel is scattered upon the hills, like sheep which have no shepherd. and jehovah says, 'these have no master: let each one return to his house in peace.'" when he heard this, the king of israel turned to his friend: "now you see a proof of my words," said he. "did i not tell you that he would never predict aught but evil of me?" but the prophet still spoke on: "i have a parable to tell thee, o mighty king. i saw, sitting upon his lofty throne, one mightier than thou--the king of kings; and upon his right hand and upon his left were ranged all the host of heaven. and he said, 'who shall persuade the lord of israel to go up against ramoth-gilead to his destruction?' and various counsel was given from different sources. at last, a power spoke, and offered to go forth as a lying spirit in the mouth of all the king's prophets. the lord answered him, 'go, and thou shalt likewise succeed.' this, o monarch, is my parable: a lying spirit has gone forth into thy prophets; for truly, jehovah hath spoken evil concerning thee." at these words, the man who had made himself so especially prominent in predicting good fortune to the expedition came up to the prophet, and struck him upon the cheek, with an insulting speech; and the king commanded that he should be carried to the governor of the city, and kept closely confined, upon bread and water, until he returned in peace and triumph, having conquered all his enemies. but the prophet answered, "if thou return at all in peace, the lord hath not spoken by me." but, unrestrained by any thing he said, the two princes went forth to the battle. more completely to insure his safety, the israelitish monarch disguised himself, and requested the king of judah to wear his royal robes, which he accordingly did. but the syrians had received orders to aim only at the enemy's head and leader, and not to attack the common people. this nearly caused the death of the king of judah, who wore his friend's conspicuous garments, and who was pursued, and almost slain, before the mistake was discovered. but notwithstanding his precaution in wearing a counterfeit dress, the fated king did not escape. an arrow, shot by chance, struck him in a vital part, and he died. when the death of their lord was known, all israel fled in dismay, and every man sought the shelter of his own home. we may presume that the true prophet was liberated from his confinement, and that the base and impudent impostor was punished as he deserved. "are not these kings near relatives of 'the good grandmother?'" said charlie bolton. "you are right," replied mary. "they are her father, ahab, and her father-in-law, jehoshaphat. who was the true prophet, and who the false?" "the true prophet was micaiah, the son of imlah; and the other--i think his horns should have been made of _brass_, impudent fellow that he was--was called zedekiah." other bible stories were called for, which were found so interesting, and, as the younger children confessed, so _new_ to many of them, that all agreed to begin a more systematic mode of reading the scriptures--that treasury of historic truth, of varied biography, and of poetic beauty. john wyndham remarked that the best thing about the romantic incidents in the bible was, that you could be sure they had all really happened: and the events were told with so much simplicity, and the characters were so natural and life-like, that even a dull fellow like him, who had no more imagination than a door-post, could see it as if it were passing before his eyes. and another thing that struck him was, that all was related without the exclamations, and the comments upon the incidents and the people, which you find in common books: you were treated as if you had both sense and conscience enough to find out the moral intention of the narrative, and that made you think a great deal more than if it was explained out in full. the young people all got their bibles, and counting the chapters, formed a plan for reading through the whole book once a year. they found that if they read three chapters a day, and occasionally an extra one, they could accomplish it: and resolved to begin in genesis, the psalms, and st. matthew's gospel, in order to give more variety. when this point was settled, amy proposed capping bible verses: she said they could have their books before them to help them a little, if their memories failed. one was to recite a verse, and the next another, beginning with the letter which ended the preceding passage; and if the person, whose turn it was, hesitated, any one else who first thought of a suitable sentence should recite it. but it ought to be something which made good sense, when disconnected from the adjoining verses: and it was a rule of the game, that if any one present did not understand the meaning of a quotation, they should talk it over until they got some light upon the subject. amy began: "'blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.'" "stop!" cried lewis. "for if that means that gentle, patient, forgiving people, shall become rich and great, i don't understand it at all." "certainly it cannot mean that," replied his sister ellen. "i have heard it explained in this way:--they shall possess the best blessings of earth, by living in love and peace, and having easy consciences." "that makes a very good sense, i think," said tom; "but i have heard another explanation given, which i like better. the earth, in that place and in many others, can be translated _land_, with equal propriety; and as the land of canaan was promised to the jews as a reward, the heavenly canaan is held out as a recompense to christians." "i'm satisfied," said lewis. "let me see--h--'hear, o heavens, and give ear, o earth, for the lord hath spoken.'" "'never man spake like this man,'" added george. "i think there are some words in the verse before that n," said gertrude. "but that is of no consequence," replied amy. "when a clause makes a complete sense in itself, that answers, even if it is not at the beginning of a verse. you know that the division of the bible into chapters and verses is quite a modern thing." "indeed, i did not know it," said gertrude. "are you quite sure?" "oh, yes, certain. i don't know when, or by whom it was divided into chapters--but my sunday-school teacher has told me that the books of the old testament were not parcelled out in that way among the jews. they had other, and longer divisions, one of which was read every sabbath day in the synagogues, so that the whole was heard by the people, in the course of the year. she told me that the new testament was first distributed into chapters--it was not originally written so--and then the old; and that in some places it would make better sense if the end of one chapter was joined to the beginning of the next." "and how is it about the verses, amy?" "it was first separated into verses by robert stephens, a publisher, when riding on horseback between paris and lyons: he marked it thus as he rode along. he was about to publish an edition of the bible, and a concordance, and divided it for facility of reference. this was in the middle of the sixteenth century." "there is one thing i've always wanted to know," said john. "along the margin, among the references, every now and then there are a few words--generally, _or_ so and so. what is the meaning of that?" "that occurs when the translators were doubtful which of two words gives the right meaning," said mrs. wyndham, coming forward. "and i have frequently noticed, that the one in the margin is preferable to the other." "another point i wish to have explained," said cornelia. "why is it that in all bibles some words are put in italics? there must be a reason." "yes, my dear, there certainly is. the translators did not find these in the original text, but thought them necessary to make up the sense. you know that you are obliged to take such liberties in rendering any foreign language into english. but they very properly distinguished _their_ words from those found in the original; and occasionally, when the former are omitted, the passage is more forcible, and gives a slightly different sense. it is well to remember this." "but we have wandered very far from our game," said charlie bolton. "'never man spake like this man,' was the last--another n--'not unto us, o lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory.'" "'ye are the light of the world. a city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.'" "'divers weights and divers measures, both of them are alike abomination unto the lord.'" "'drink waters out of thy own cistern, and running waters out of thy own well.'" "'love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty.'" and so the game went on, until, to the surprise of all, cæsar announced that tea was ready, and they found that the afternoon had quite passed away, in pleasant and profitable talk. in the evening, ellen green asked her aunt if she would not consent to convert them into a bible-class, as an hour could be spent very agreeably in that way. of course, mrs. wyndham agreed to the proposition, and requested the young party to bring bibles in as many different languages as they could understand. they had latin, greek, and german versions in the library, which the boys would find useful, as all the older ones were pretty well versed in the classics, and tom green was studying german; and as she had seen amy reading her french testament, and ellen the italian, she knew they were provided for. accordingly, they ran to get their books; and by comparing the various translations, they found that the sense was frequently made clearer. each one read a verse; and then, before the next person proceeded, mrs. wyndham explained it, and asked questions, which frequently led to the most animated conversation. by requiring a definition of all words which were not perfectly familiar, she arrested their attention. when she, or any other member of the class, thought of a passage in scripture which threw light upon the subject, all searched for it, with the aid of the concordance. any peculiarity of rites, manners, customs, etc., was made more intelligible by the bible dictionary; and when the whole lesson was finished, the young people gave a summary of the religious truth, and practical inferences to be deduced from it. a quotation from the book of daniel led to some pleasant talk about that prophet, his greatly diversified life, and the important changes in the world's history which he witnessed. mrs. wyndham remarked that the jews have a tradition which in itself is very probable, that the venerable man pointed out to cyrus, after his conquest of babylon, the verses in isaiah, wherein he is spoken of by name, as conquering by the power of the lord, and giving orders to rebuild jerusalem and the temple: and also that other passage, in which the destruction of the babylonish empire by the medes is foretold, both prophecies being recorded more than a hundred years before the birth of the mighty king by whom they were accomplished. "i never heard of that," said cornelia. "but, of course, it would be the most likely thing for daniel to do. you can imagine the interest with which cyrus would listen to these predictions about himself--and from the lips of such a noble, lovely, white-haired man as daniel must have been. i don't wonder at all that he gave the decree to rebuild jerusalem." "this reminds me of another jewish tradition, recorded in josephus," rejoined mrs. wyndham. "this one, i think, is not at all probable; but as it would interest you, i will narrate it. alexander the great, while engaged in the siege of tyre, sent orders to the high priest at jerusalem, to furnish his army with provisions, as they had been in the habit of doing to darius. but jaddus, the high priest, gave answer that they were still bound by their oath to the king of persia, and that, while he lived, they could not transfer their allegiance to another. this noble response awakened the rage of alexander, who, as soon as tyre was reduced, marched towards jerusalem, determined to inflict signal vengeance upon that city. the inhabitants, totally unable to withstand the conqueror, were filled with consternation. their town was, indeed, admirably fortified; but since tyre, the queen of the sea, had been subdued, how could they hope to escape? weeping and loud lamentations were heard throughout the streets. the high priest knew that his only hope was in help from on high: he ordered prayers and sacrifices to be offered up, and awaited the result, confident that he had at least discharged his duty. "but on the night before the mighty greek arrived, jaddus received directions, in a dream, to array the streets with flowers, and to go forth, in his pontifical robes, to meet the victor, followed by the people, dressed in white. he awoke, with fresh hope and energy, told his dream to the assembled populace, and gave orders that the city should be decked with garlands, triumphal arches, and gay streamers, and that the gates should be left open. when all preparations were made, he marched out, agreeably to the commandment, at the head of the priests and people, and awaited the approach of the invaders, at a point commanding a beautiful view of the city, with its open gates, unarmed walls, and smiling environs. at last, the clank of weapons was heard; and, with military music, the victorious army moved along, anxious for fresh conquests. but how different was their reception from that they had anticipated! many, it is true, had come out to meet them, but all in the garb of peace; dressed in white, and crowned with flowers, as if for a festival. hostility died away in the bosoms of the warriors, as they gazed on these defenceless men,--few are so brutal as to attack the unresisting and the friendly. but what was the astonishment of the whole army, when they beheld the fiery alexander himself go forward towards the jewish high priest, who headed the brilliant procession, and humbly kneel down at his feet! then rising, he embraced him. the israelites themselves were amazed, and acknowledged the merciful interposition of god. at length, parmenio addressed the king, and asked why he, before whom monarchs and nations trembled, and at whose feet all were ready to fall, should condescend thus to do homage to a man? alexander replied, 'that he did not bow down to the man, but to the mighty name which was written upon his forehead--to the great god to whom he was consecrated. for that, while he was yet in macedon, meditating the expedition to asia, he had been favored with a remarkable dream, in which he had beheld this very man, in his pontifical robes, who had addressed him, encouraging him to persevere in his undertaking. he told him that he, alexander, was acting under the immediate guidance of god, and that he should prosper. and now,' continued the king, 'i do not pay obeisance to the man, but to the god whose high priest he is, and who has given success to my arms.' "the jews escorted him into their capital with shouts of applause and loud rejoicings. the grecian monarch then entered the temple, and offered sacrifices, complying with all the requirements of the law: and jaddus showed him, in the book of daniel, the prophecy concerning himself and his kingdom overcoming the medo-persian realm. mary, will you be kind enough to read it?" mary opened the book at the th chapter, d verse: "then i lifted up mine eyes, and behold, there stood before the river a ram which had two horns: and the two horns were high; but one was higher than the other, and the higher came up last. "i saw the ram pushing westward, and northward, and southward; so that no beast might stand before him, neither was there any that could deliver out of his hand; but he did according to his will, and became great. "and as i was considering, behold, an he-goat came from the west on the face of the whole earth, and touched not the ground: and the goat had a notable horn between his eyes. "and he came to the ram which had two horns, which i had seen standing before the river, and ran unto him in the fury of his power. "and i saw him come close unto the ram, and he was moved with choler against him, and smote the ram, and brake his two horns: and there was no power in the ram to stand before him, but he cast him down to the ground, and stamped upon him: and there was none that could deliver the ram out of his hand. "therefore the he-goat waxed very great: and when he was strong, the great horn was broken; and for it came up four notable ones towards the four winds of heaven." and at the twentieth verse it says: "the ram which thou sawest having two horns are the kings of media and persia. "and the rough goat is the king of grecia: and the great horn which is between his eyes is the first king. "now that being broken, whereas four stood up for it, four kingdoms shall stand up out of the nation, but not in his power." "this is very plain, aunt lucy," said mary; "and i suppose that the larger horn of the ram, which came up last, refers to the power of persia, which overshadowed media, originally so much its superior. if you notice, the ram comes from the east, and pushes westward, northward, and southward: while the he-goat comes from the west to attack the ram, and so rapidly, that he is represented as not touching the ground." "i suppose that is a poetical expression," said john; "but if it were anywhere else but in the bible, i'd say it was far-fetched." "it is exactly in unison with the figurative language of the east," replied mrs. wyndham. "the arab praises the swiftness of his steed, at this day, by saying, that before his hoof touches the ground, he is out of sight. that's a bold figure for you." "i love poetical expressions," said amy. "and i prefer plain english, not arabian," answered john. "i think i can answer for one thing," said charlie. "when jaddus showed alexander that prediction, he did not lay much stress upon the verse about the great horn being broken while it was yet strong, and four others coming up in its place. it all came true enough, but alexander would not have liked that part as well as the rest, about his conquests." "do you, who are fresh from school, remember the names of the four generals and kingdoms who succeeded him?" rejoined mrs. wyndham. "ptolemy seized egypt; seleucus, syria and babylon; lysimachus, asia minor; and cassander took greece for his share of the plunder. but though these were notable horns, they were none of them in _his_ power--none could compare with alexander." "auntie," said amy, "don't you think alexander must have seen these predictions--you know how much he favored the jews, and what especial privileges he gave them in his city, alexandria?" "well, perhaps so," said mrs. wyndham, smiling. "i see you want to believe it, at any rate. there is no proof to the contrary, so you might as well indulge your organ of wonder." chapter vii. sequel to the orphan's tale.--who can he be?--elements.--the astrologers. on monday morning, our merry party at the grange breakfasted rather earlier than usual, and mr. wyndham and alice bolton set off for philadelphia, full of eagerness to hunt up an uncle for little margaret roscoe. charlie told him, laughingly, that he was sure he would persuade some one to be her uncle, if rich mr. roscoe did not prove to be the right man: he could pick one up somewhere along the streets. but mr. wyndham replied, with an offended air, that he was sorry he had not yet learned his worth: good uncles, like him, were not to be met with every day--they should be valued accordingly. "do you remember the anecdote about frederic the great, of prussia?" asked his wife. "there are many funny stories told of him," answered mr. wyndham; "which is the one you refer to?" "one sunday, a young minister preached an admirable sermon before him, showing uncommon talent and erudition. frederic afterwards sent for him, and asked where he was settled. 'unfortunately, sire, i have had no opportunity of being installed anywhere: i have never had a living presented to me.' 'but what is the reason?--you preach an excellent discourse, and appear to be an active young man.' 'alas! sire, i have no uncle.' 'then i'll be your uncle, said frederic. and he kept his word: the next vacancy in the ecclesiastical appointments was filled up with the name of his adopted nephew." "but, aunt," said harry, "i can't see what his having no uncle had to do with it." "you know that in most other parts of christendom, where the stars and the stripes do not float in the breeze, what we call the voluntary principle in church maintenance and government is not the rule at all. here, people choose their own clergymen, and of course it is their business to support them. but in nearly the whole of europe, rulers are so very paternal as to take that trouble and responsibility off the shoulders of the people: they are kind enough to do all their thinking for them. the subjects pay very heavy taxes; and from these, and from old endowments, all the expenses of the national establishments are discharged. they look at it in the same light as your parents do, when they pay your school-bills--it's a duty they owe you to see that you are properly taught; but it would be very weak in them to consult you as to which teacher you preferred, and what school you chose to go to--they're the best judges, of course." "but, aunt lucy! you surely don't mean to say that the governments are the best judges as to what church the people shall attend, and what ministers they shall have?" "i do not mean to say that is my opinion, of course--that would be rather anti-american, and not at all aunty-lucyish. no, no; i stand up for the rights of conscience, and approve of treating grown men, and children too, as if they had reason and common sense; and then they will be far more likely to possess it, than if they are always kept under an iron rule. but, on the other side of the water, they have not so exalted an opinion of the mass of the people as we have; and the government, in some form--either through ecclesiastical boards, or inspectors of churches, or members of the aristocracy--exercises the power of filling vacant churches. this is the reason why it is important to have an uncle; in other words, some influential person to aid you in rising." "even the _memory_ of an illustrious uncle is sometimes a stepping-stone," remarked charlie bolton. "the late emperor louis napoleon is an example--lucky fellow; his uncle's name and fame got him a throne--with the help of considerable cheating." "not so lucky, if you look at his end," said john. "but from other and quite disinterested motives, i intend to keep as close to _my_ uncle as he. i shall very soon begin to subscribe myself john wyndham, junior, and i am determined to be like you, uncle--as like as your own shadow." "then you will be an illustrious example of failure, my boy--for my shadow, although always near me, is generally cast down, which i never am--and it always looks away from the sunny side, you know, which i don't do. besides, a shadow has no particular character: any one's shadow would suit me as well as my own." "i intend to be an original, for my part!" cried cornelia, laughing. "i won't be cast in anybody's mould, as if i were a bullet--not i!" "that's right, my dear original!" said her uncle, pinching her rosy, dimpled, laughter-loving cheek. "the grave world always wants a pert little cornelia to tease it out of its peculiarities: people in old times kept their jesters, and you're nearly as good!" "why, uncle! you insult me! you've quite mistaken my character; i intend to be the dignified miss wyndham!" "oh, pray, spare us that infliction!" replied her uncle, laughingly, jumping into the carriage. mr. wyndham met with good success. he arrived at mr. roscoe's door at the moment that gentleman was about to leave home. alice bolton, who was an especial favorite of his, introduced her uncle; and when he understood that they had private business with him, he led them up to his library, where, hanging over the mantle-piece, mr. wyndham immediately saw a portrait, the counterpart of the one in his possession, although evidently taken some years before the miniature. involuntarily, he stopped before it, and gazed earnestly. mr. roscoe sighed. "here is all that remains," said he, "of a dear and only brother. i value this picture more than any thing else in my house, except its living furniture." "had your brother no family, sir? no wife or child?" rejoined mr. wyndham. "that is rather a tender subject, my dear sir," answered mr. roscoe: "one that has caused me much sorrow, and some self-reproach. he left a wife and child, indeed, who were to join me in america. i have reason to think they sailed; but from that day to this, i have heard no tidings from them. would to god i knew their fate! whether the unknown ship in which they took passage went down at sea, or what else may have happened, i know not. all my efforts to unravel the mystery have been in vain." "perhaps i can help you," said mr. wyndham, with that peculiarly benevolent smile, which opened all hearts to him, as if by magic. "you recognize this countenance?" continued he, holding up to him little maggie's medallion. "my brother malcom! tell me, sir, tell me where you got this; it was his wife's!" "his sweet little daughter--your niece, margaret roscoe--handed it to my wife a few days ago. she knows not she has an uncle living: her mother is dead, and she is dwelling in comparative poverty near my house." "i cannot doubt it, from this picture--although it is all a mystery still. but i must see her--my dear brother's child. i will order up my carriage immediately, and beg you to take seats in it. i must see her as soon as possible." "on that very account i have made arrangements for you to come out to the grange in mine," replied mr. wyndham. "we can explain all things by the way; and you can return whenever you say the word. you will find old cæsar quite at your disposal." "i gratefully accept your offer, my dear sir, and can never be sufficiently thankful to you, if you indeed restore to me my brother's child. i will order my carriage to follow us to the grange." accordingly, he acquainted his family, in few words and great haste, with the discovery that had been made, and left carrie, alan, and malcom in an intense state of excitement, at the idea of regaining the long-lost cousin. the three then drove immediately to mrs. norton's little cottage, where the gentle and womanly child was busily engaged at her work-- "stitch, stitch, stitch, band, gusset, and seam--" striving, by her small, but active fingers, to aid in the support of that family which had sheltered her in adversity. as the door opened, she raised her deep blue eyes--the very reflection of her father's. the work fell from her hands; that face reminded her of home, of her grandfather, of her unknown uncle. they have recognized each other; the ties of blood speak out in their hearts; the long-severed are now united. i will not attempt to raise the veil which hides from the world the strongest and purest affections of our nature: they were never intended for the common eye. but now, after the first rapture of meeting had subsided, there arose a tumult within the soul of our affectionate and grateful little maggie: her heart urged her in two opposite directions. she felt, in an ardent and uncommon degree, that instinctive love of kindred which is implanted in our nature, and manifested so strongly by the natives of scotland; but, on the other hand, gratitude and duty appeared to bid her stay with her benefactors. mr. roscoe perceived the struggle, and it raised his little niece highly in his estimation. he told her that it was not his wish to separate her entirely from the family to which she was so warmly attached; that she should come very frequently to see them, and that, as his niece, she would find it was in her power to aid them more effectually than she could do as their adopted daughter. mrs. norton, although with tears in her eyes, told her that she could not now dare to detain her; her duty was clear, to follow her uncle, who filled her father's place. having made the arrangement to call for her in the afternoon, mr. roscoe accompanied mr. wyndham and alice to the grange, where he dined, and spent the intermediate time; greatly to the pleasure of our young party, who could not have felt sure of maggie's future happiness, had they not themselves experienced the attractive influence of his kind, gentlemanly, and paternal manner. after dinner, the two gentlemen had a little private conversation about mrs. norton. they wished to place her above poverty, and yet to do so in a way which should not mortify her feelings of independence. mr. roscoe remarked that "he had it in his power to bring frederic forward in business; and that, if he were an industrious and intelligent lad, he should enjoy as good an opportunity of rising in the world as the son of the richest merchant in the land. he would see to it that the girls had the best advantages of education; and if they showed sufficient talent, they should be trained for teachers. but, meantime, what was to be done for mrs. norton? would she accept from him an annuity, which, after all, was only a small return for her kindness to his brother's child?" mr. wyndham thought that it would be a better plan to establish her in a neat dwelling and well-furnished shop, either in the country or in the city, where frederic could board with her. he knew, from his wife's account, that she had an acquaintance with business, and had thought of setting her up, himself, in a small way: he should be happy to aid in the good work. but mr. roscoe insisted that the debt was all his own, and that no one should share with him the privilege of helping her; and, accordingly, this plan was determined upon as combining the most efficient assistance to the widow, with a regard to her self-respect. in the evening, after the excitement produced by the unexpected turn in the fortunes of little maggie and of her generous protectors had somewhat subsided, our happy party drew up to the fire, which crackled and blazed as if conscious of the animation it imparted to the group around it. "what game shall we play to-night?" said cornelia, who possessed such an active mind as to think it stupid and "poking," unless some visible fun was in progress. she never could think the fire was burning, unless the sparks flew right and left. "what do you say to 'who can he be?" asked mary. "'tis a game, partly of my own invention, that i think may prove entertaining. i've seen a set of historical cards, in which a description is read of a general, king, or other illustrious character; and any one having the card on which the corresponding name is printed, calls it out, and gains the other one. but if a beautiful queen of egypt, who lived a short time before the christian era, is portrayed, it's quite as well for boys who own a moses or a mary of scotland, not to be in too great a hurry to speak." "we wouldn't be such dunces, i hope," cried harry. "but, cousin mary, what's your improvement? i don't see any cards here at all." "oh no: i think when people have brains, they can play much better without them. my plan is, for a person to describe the individual, naming the country and age in which he lived, what gained him distinction, and every thing else that is interesting; and then any one of the circle can guess who the hero is, having the privilege of asking one question previously. if the conjecture be correct, the guesser describes another character, and so the game proceeds. or, if you prefer it, you can narrate one well-known anecdote of your hero, and then three questions are allowed previous to a guess. i call it 'who can he be?'" "i think i shall like it," said ellen. "if you please, i'll begin. once there lived a roman emperor--he was a nephew, like louis napoleon and cousin john. we often say people lived in the year one: he certainly did. he was a great patron of literature and the fine arts, and was a munificent friend to virgil. who can he be?" "i can tell you, without asking my question," cried tom. "augustus was eminently the nephew, and succeeded his uncle, julius cæsar, in the empire. he was reigning at the time of our saviour's birth, and of course lived in the year one: every thing fits--he's the man." "you are right. now 'tis your turn, brother tom." "the first of the english poets--who wrote splendid poetry, if only one could read it. 'tis such hard, tough, jaw-breaking english, that it is little wonder his very name shows we must use the muscles of our mouths when we attempt it. he lived soon after the time of wickliffe, and imbibed some of his ideas. who can he be?" "who but chaucer?" said cornelia. "now who is the hero who was almost elected king of poland, but who lost that honor through the interference of a queen of england, unwilling to lose the brightest jewel of her crown by parting with him? he is mortally wounded on the battle-field, and thirsting for water. his soldiers procure some, with great difficulty, and he is about to raise it to his lips, when he sees the longing eye of a dying man, at his side, fixed upon it. 'he wants it more than i,' said he, and gave it to the poor fellow. who can he be?" "we are allowed three questions to an anecdote," said alice, "but none are required here. there is only one sir philip sydney. but who was the selfish queen, unwilling to have her noblest subject exalted beyond her control?" "none other than good queen bess," answered cornelia. "and who is the poet that has immortalized sydney's sister, in the following lines? "'underneath this marble hearse lies the subject of all verse: sydney's sister, pembroke's mother-- death, ere thou hast slain another good, and fair, and wise as she, time shall throw his dart at thee!'" "was it 'rare ben jonson?'" cried charlie bolton. "even so, charlie: now, what have you got to say for yourself?" "i intend to disprove the assertion of alice, that there is only one sir philip sydney. who was that other equally valiant knight, and much sweeter poet, who used to sing his own verses, accompanying himself upon the harp; and could thereby soothe the most troubled spirit? on one occasion, this brilliant genius, whose romantic adventures might fill a volume, and who subsequently became a king, was in exile, and was hidden, with some devoted followers, in a large cave. the enemies of his country were encamped around, and lay, in strong force, between his hiding-place and the small town where he had spent his childish years, which they also garrisoned. while in this situation, cut off from all intercourse with his home and friends, his heart turned to them with an intense longing; and in a moment of thoughtlessness, he said before three of his captains, 'oh, what would i not give, could i once more drink water from the well, outside the gate of my native town!' at the peril of their lives, the gallant men fought their way through the hosts of the enemy, and returned with the water. but the poet-warrior would not drink: he poured it out as a libation to god, saying, 'can i indeed drink the blood of these noble friends, who have risked their lives to gratify my idle whim? i cannot do it.' now, who can be this poet, warrior, and king?" "did he live about a thousand years before the christian era?" said amy. "he did." "it was the sweet psalmist of israel, david, son of jesse, the bethlehemite. now, who is the man that long ago published a book of jests, said to be greatly studied now-a-days by diners-out and professed wits, and endlessly copied into other works of a similar character. his reputation is so high, that many anecdotes are called by his name. who can he be?" "is it punch?" said lewis. "how silly!" cried harry, with the knowing look of a boy two years older: "punch is a newspaper. was it hood?" "no: do you all give it up?" "yes: we can't imagine who he can be." "joe miller, of jesting memory." "now let us try another game," said gertrude. "of course, cousin mary has an endless store at her disposal." "let us try 'elements,'" mary answered. "i will throw my handkerchief at some one, calling out water, air, or earth; and the person who catches it must immediately name an animal living in or upon the element. but if i say _fire_, you must be silent. the answer should be given before i count ten; and then the one in possession of the handkerchief must throw it to another, carrying on the game. any one who repeats an animal that has been already mentioned, pays a forfeit--except that i think forfeits are stupid things." "instead of that," said charlie, "let the unlucky wight who makes the greatest number of blunders, have the privilege of proposing the first game to-morrow." "very well," said mary, throwing her handkerchief at tom. "water." "codfish," answered he, tossing it to cornelia. "earth." "elephant," replied cornelia, sending the missive to charlie. "fire." "water," rejoined charlie, flinging it to amy. "eel," responded amy, casting it into anna's lap. "air." "eagle," cried the latter, hurling the embroidered cambric at george's face. "earth." "have pity upon my poor little handkerchief!" said mary. and so the game proceeded; and simple though it was, it caused diversion. "who shall be appointed to tell the story to-night?" asked ellen. "it seems to me that tom or charlie, george or john should be selected; as it generally happens, 'the softer sex' has done the chief talking. isn't it right and proper for the boys to take their equal share?" "oh, by no means!" answered charlie. "it is the ladies' privilege--it would be very ungallant to deprive them of it. besides, my trade is that of a critic, not an author: you must be aware that it is a higher branch, giving larger scope to my superior judgment and exquisite powers of fault-finding. yes, criticism is my forte: do you tell stories, ellen, and i'm the chap to slash them up." "you are only too kind," replied his cousin, laughing. "after such a generous offer, who wouldn't be tempted?" "i know you are right, sister ellen," said tom, "and that it is our duty to help in the entertainment of the company; but, for my part, i throw myself upon your mercy. i wouldn't, for the world, hint that we are more solid than the girls, but 'tis very certain that we are more lumbering. if i were to begin a tale, i'd flounder through it, like a whale with a harpoon in its body; while any of the girls, even down to little anna, would glide along, like a graceful, snow-white swan upon a silver lake--happy in her element, and giving pleasure to all who witnessed her undulating motions." "very pretty that, tom!" cried cornelia. "after such a well-turned compliment, our hearts would be flinty indeed, if we didn't excuse you. but what do george and john say?" "as for me," responded george, "it appears to be my vocation, at present, to eat hearty dinners, grumble over my lessons, skate, and now-and-then, by way of a frolic, fall into a pond. you may be thankful if i don't get into all sorts of mischief. you need not expect me to make myself agreeable till i arrive at the 'digging-up' age, that cornelia spoke of." "for my part," added john, "you know that i couldn't invent a story, to save my life. i've no fancy at all; and have made up my mind, as i can't be agreeable, that i'll at least be useful. everybody ought to be one or the other." "we should aim to be both," said mr. wyndham. "but, indeed, uncle, 'tis hard work for a fellow, when he's plain-spoken and rather dull, like me. i'd prefer sawing wood, any day, to entertaining a parcel of girls!" "that being the case," answered mrs. wyndham, smiling, "we couldn't be hard-hearted enough to impose such an arduous duty upon you. i appoint cornelia to the honorable office of story-teller this evening." "then i bargain that i make my tale as short as i like, and that i am not compelled to lug in a moral by the hair of its head, as the germans express it," said cornelia. "i approve of every one following the bent of his genius, and mine is not of the didactic order." "we certainly should not expect a moral essay or an instructive treatise from our wild little girl," replied mr. wyndham. "i suppose there is no danger of its being immoral." "i don't know, indeed," answered she, tossing her black curls, and looking archly at her uncle, whom she dearly loved to tease. "i'll leave you to judge of that: i don't answer for the injurious effect it may have upon these unformed minds around me. i call my story the astrologers. william forsythe and edward barrington were lively young fellows of twenty, who had left their homes in the south to complete their education at one of our northern colleges. i don't think my strict uncle would call them "immoral" young men, but they certainly did not carry gray heads upon their green shoulders: they loved fun and mischief about as well as i do. they did not neglect study, and were up to the mark in their recitations; and they never perpetrated any thing really bad. they would not have intentionally hurt any one's feelings for the world; but yet, were any frolic to be carried into execution, these two were "the head and front of the offending." the grave professors, while they entertained their families at home with some of their exploits, were obliged to put on a very sober face in public, and even to hint at expulsion from the "alma mater," if the merry and thoughtless youngsters persevered in their course. i must relate one or two instances which caused considerable laughter at the time, and have added to the stock of traditionary stories that may be found in every boarding college throughout our land. contraband turkeys or geese, roasted in their room for supper, and intended for a jolly party of friends who would collect together, were, of course, quite common affairs. on one occasion, just as the odor had become very exciting to their gastric organs, and the skin had assumed that tempting brown hue betokening a near approach to perfection in their culinary operations, the watchful tutor scented out either the supper or some mischief, and rap-rap-rap was heard at the door. every sound was instantly hushed, and the offending bird was quickly transferred to a hiding-place in the room. after some little delay, the door was opened, with many apologies; and the tutor, looking suspiciously through his spectacles, entered the apartment. "very studious, gentlemen! very studious, i see!" he said, glancing at the array of learned volumes open before them. "let me beg you not to injure your health by too close application to books. but what a very curious smell! one would think you had been carrying out the classical lessons contained in apicius. allow me to examine: ah, mr. forsythe, i see that you grease your boots to keep out the wet--a good precaution." so saying, he pulled out the nice little goose from a new boot in the corner, to the mingled mortification and amusement of the young men. "suppers are doubtless agreeable things at night," added the tutor; "but the worst is, that they often leave unpleasant consequences the next morning: of course, you are aware that you meet the faculty, to-morrow, gentlemen." on another occasion, our two heroes were out all night, exerting themselves strenuously for the public good. i suppose they thought that if some of the impediments to familiar intercourse in the neighborhood were removed, the state of society would be greatly benefited. some such grave purpose they must have had in view; for, in the morning, when the inhabitants of the town awoke, they found to their surprise that all the gates, small and great, had been removed from their hinges, and collected in one large pile, in the middle of the campus! to complain to the faculty would do no good: it would only raise the laugh against them. so, when any of the townspeople, or the farmers in the neighborhood, came to select their gates from the pile, the cry was given, "heads out!" and from all the windows surrounding the campus, roguish eyes peeped forth, to watch the proceedings; and frequently the property-owner returned, feeling very much as if he had been the culprit. one day, a countryman drove up with a load of wood. as he disappeared around an angle of the building in search of the purveyor, our heroes approached, with a select party of classmates, weary of recitations, and longing for a change. forsythe, whose genius for military tactics was so striking that he was dubbed, by universal consent, "the general," instantly formed his plan of attack; and, being nobly seconded by his quick-witted aids, he carried it into execution with the rapidity and decision characteristic of a great commander. in five minutes, the farmer returned, having concluded his bargain; but where was his cart, and horse, and load of wood? nothing of the kind was to be seen; and it was very evident that patient dobbin had, for once in his life, resolved to take a frolic, and see a little of life; or else that some rogue had gotten possession of him and his appurtenances without the formality of a purchase. the town was searched, and all the adjacent roads. the neighbors, ever ready, from a principle of pure benevolence, to take a lively interest in all that was going on, gave advice in rich profusion, and sent the poor man flying hither and thither, in vain. but, at last, the contradictory reports appeared to settle down into the following facts: that many persons had seen the cart enter the town, but that none had witnessed its departure--wherein might be traced a strange likeness to the old fable of the sick lion and his visitors. the suspicion at last became general, that the students were somehow at the bottom of it; so just an appreciation did the townspeople possess of their capabilities for mischief, that no tricks of diablerie seemed too much to ascribe to them. as the weary countryman and his sympathizing companions approached those academic shades, where earnest study and severe meditation filled up all the hours, a stir was apparent within the building; and the tramping of feet upon the stone staircase, and the laughter of many voices, told that something unusual had occurred. with ill-disguised merriment, the worthy rustic was escorted up three flights of stairs, until, uneasily stamping upon the brick pavement of the hall, his wondering eyes fell upon his horse, looking decidedly out of his element. how came he there? behind him was the cart, loaded with wood--not a buckle of his tackling was amiss--it looked as if old dobbin had marched up the stairway, load and all. no one knew any thing of the prodigy--no one ever does, in such cases. the horse looked indignant, as if he had a tale to tell; but the words wouldn't come. no other witness could be produced in court; and the end of it was, that all, except the unfortunate animal himself, indulged in a hearty horse-laugh. in what way they drove the cart down stairs, history does not mention. that was the concern of the owner and of the college authorities, and not mine nor my heroes--it may be in the hall to this day, for aught i know. but how they got up so high in the world is another matter, and i will let you into my secret, merely to convince my incredulous hearers that the thing was possible. each of the fellows shouldered as many logs as he could carry, conveyed them to the appointed place, and returned swiftly to the charge. the wheels were now off, and ready for four of them, and the body of the cart for eight more. forsythe and barrington reserved for themselves the honor and glory of managing the live-stock. slipping woollen socks over his feet, they somehow got him up-stairs with marvellous celerity; and whilst his owner was gazing up and down for his vanished property, the astonished horse was again tackled to the loaded cart, his hose were taken off, and he was left to his meditations, in solitary possession of the hall. so quietly was all this done, that, although students and tutors were in the rooms adjoining, nothing was suspected, until the horse, who felt himself to be placed, without any fault of his own, in a false position, made known his sentiments by his impatient movements. the worst trick our heroes ever played, and one of a somewhat kindred character, consisted in ornamenting professor x's horse. at midnight, when the authorities were sound asleep, they took the poor animal out of his comfortable stable, and shoeing him with an extra quantity of felt, to prevent any noise, they conveyed him, with great difficulty, up the staircase, to the hall in the third floor. that might have satisfied them; but no, they were not pleased with his color. he was of pure white, and the scapegraces wished a variegated hue. so, after a preliminary shaving, they painted him in green stripes, and when they had arranged it to their satisfaction, they went to their own rooms. the unfortunate victim was not well contented, either with his quarters or his condition, and stamped about at a great rate, being quite unable to get down stairs. in the morning, when the professor was ready for his usual ride, where was his horse? it had vanished, and the stable-door was open: thieves must have been prowling about in the night. at last, the trick was discovered; and then, as will forsythe said, "i could paint that horse, which was rather restive, but i would not undertake to paint the wrath of the professor." of course, no one did it--it was impossible to discover the guilty individuals. but the poor animal did not enjoy the frolic as much as the wild youngsters, for he died in consequence; and this unfortunate termination of the exploit put a stop to any practical jokes for the enormous period of several months. to make up the unexpected loss to the professor, the two friends sent him, anonymously, a sum of money equal to the value of the horse. but the moral discipline inflicted by the luckless death of the green and white horse, did not endure forever. they say, that when a subterranean fire exists, and old craters are abandoned, new ones are thrown up: the inward, irresistible power must have a vent. perhaps it's somewhat so with us, lovers of fun. i see uncle shake his head at me, and know that he thinks i'm inculcating bad morality: but indeed, nature will out, as well as murder. you must know that the excellent president, who had a great deal of dry humor in his composition, had procured a nice new vehicle. every one liked the old gentleman, and yet, so great is the love of frolic inherent in some reprobate minds, that when the idea of carrying off his carriage was first broached at one of their little private suppers, by that wicked imp will forsythe, it was met with shouts of applause. it was resolved to convey it away, in the dead of the night, to a little piece of woods belonging to the doctor, at a distance of about three miles from the college, and there to leave it. the plan was to be carried into execution that very night. accordingly, at midnight, eight forms might have been seen carefully descending from eight windows, and skulking along in the shade, for the moon was shining brilliantly, until they got beyond the college limits. they drew out the carriage, and proceeded slowly along the road: no one was astir except themselves. when they had passed all the houses, they no longer felt the need of keeping the strict silence they had at first thought necessary, and the merry laugh and the gay repartee went round. "hallo, forsythe!" exclaimed barrington, "how do you stand it? i think this concern is as ponderous as if the old fat doctor were inside it himself!" "i conceive this joke to be rather a heavy one," replied his friend, laughing. "i begin to wonder if we are not fools for our pains: dr. franklin would say that we paid too dear for our whistle." "never give up the ship, my boy!" cried the other. "only think how the old doctor will stare about him to-morrow, when he misses it! it will be a second edition of the professor's horse." "now, 'an thou lovest me, hal,' don't say a word about the professor's horse, or i'll turn back with the carriage. that cost me to the tune of a hundred dollars, and more, not to speak of the remorse i felt when the poor creature died. but didn't he look comical when i had put on the green!" thus, with jocund peals of laughter, they shortened the way, until they reached the little piece of woods in which they intended to deposit the coach. had they been obliged to toil as much to gain their daily bread, they would probably have thought it hard work. they took down the bars, drew in the carriage, and placed it in a snug position, out of sight. "and now for home!" said forsythe. "won't we get there a little sooner than we came?" at that moment the carriage window was thrown up, a large white head was put forth into the moonlight, and, to the horror of all concerned, they beheld the doctor! whether to run, or what to do, they did not know. the old president enjoyed their confusion for a few moments, and then said, "much obliged to you for a pleasant ride, young gentlemen: now, suppose we go home again." putting in his head, and shutting the window and blind, he left them to their dismay. completely taken in! they had been betrayed, somehow. they might look for an expulsion, after that; and, what was worse, would be heartily laughed at besides. between their mortification and the unwonted hard work, the perspiration rolled off their faces in large drops by the time they got home--that is to say, to the coach-house. forsythe humbly opened the coach-door and let down the steps. "many thanks," said the doctor, with a grave face: "i have seldom enjoyed a more agreeable ride. i don't know when i have had horses i liked so well." every day for a fortnight "the horses" were trembling, in expectation of a notice to canter off from the college, in disgrace; but no such intimation came. the worthy old doctor was contented with the punishment he had already inflicted, but reminded them occasionally of their midnight frolic, and brought blushes up to their cheeks, by some sly allusion. college days are now over: our heroes have graduated with some distinction, notwithstanding their many peccadilloes, and have bid farewell forever to the "academic shades," figuratively speaking, of their alma mater. they have amazed, delighted, and edified the ladies present at the commencement by the eloquence of their greek and latin orations: the pretty creatures listened with rapt attention, and most intelligent countenances, to the whole. had it been cherokee, it would have proved the same thing. they did not enlighten the audience, as a learned old scotchman, who, some fifty years ago, was president of one of our northern colleges, actually did at a commencement speech. he had a board of trustees, whom he looked upon with great contempt, as illiterate men; and not being on the best terms with them, he determined upon a characteristic revenge. turning round to one side of the stage, where some of them were seated, whenever he quoted latin, he gave the explanation, "that's _latin_, gentlemen;" and again, when he introduced any greek, bowing to the other side, "that's _greek_, gentlemen." but one incident occurred, showing equal respect to the classical acquirements of those around him: will forsythe, whose memory was none of the best, feeling a sudden lapse of it in the very middle of his speech, with imperturbable impudence, recommenced from his starting-point, and made an admirable impression. thunders of applause rewarded him when he made his parting bow. the two friends still kept together. they visited the falls of niagara, canada, saratoga, and newport; and yet, strange to say, their purses were not exhausted. what shall they do next? they are ready for any frolic that presents itself. they have money in their pockets, young blood in their veins, unlimited time at their disposal, and, of course, they must be in some mischief, as neither of them has lost his heart, and become sentimental. while in new york, forsythe accidentally took up a newspaper, and that determined the especial kind of wickedness in which they should engage. he noticed a number of pompous advertisements of fortune-tellers under the head of astrology, which gave him an idea. he showed them to barrington, who observed that "it was astonishing how many fools and ignoramuses there were still in the nineteenth century, when the schoolmaster was abroad." "a very sage remark," answered his friend. "if the schoolmaster would stay at home, and mind his own business, instead of being abroad so much, perhaps the world would be better taught. i notice that he is always going to an education convention. but i didn't show you that for the purpose of eliciting wisdom: quite the contrary--folly is what i'm after, just now. what do you think of our turning astrologers?" "grand! you're a genius, will! that's the very thing to wake us up! here are you and i, dashing blades, who have been doing penance by trying to be fine gentlemen at watering-places, when it wasn't at all in our line. i began to think we looked as much like fops as the rest of the scented and bearded dress-coats, who strut about, and imagine the world is looking at them. this would throw us into quite another rank of life, and give us new ideas. how shall we manage it though, my fine fellow?" "nothing easier in the world. let us rent a small house, somewhere near the bowery--that's the right neighborhood; and when we have fitted it up suitably to our trade, i'll engage to put an advertisement in the papers that shall draw us customers. how do you think i could pass for a jew?" "pretty well, with your coal-black eyes and hooked nose: but what is that notion?" "i think it would cause a great sensation if the wandering jew were to appear again in real life. what between croly and eugene sue, he has been kept very extensively before the public in books: but i believe no one has had the audacity as yet to represent him in an every-day, money-getting capacity, at least in america. how do you like my plan?" "superb! the only objection is that you are rather youthful in appearance for one who has wandered over the earth for more than eighteen hundred years. could you alter that, will?" "somewhat, with the aid of a snow-white wig and yellow dye; and you know i always possessed the accomplishment of furrowing up my face with wrinkles when i chose. i don't doubt i could look the character pretty well, in a rich, flowing oriental dress. and the little hebrew we picked up at college from our good friend the learned young rabbi, will also stand us in hand. have you any objection to being my servant, ned?" "none at all; i shall feel quite honored by the position. i don't consider myself competent to play the first fiddle in this amusing duet, but can follow your lead very well." "remember, then, that our english is rather broken, and that we communicate our meaning to one another in french, spanish, scraps of hebrew, or latin and greek. i have not quite yet forgotten all i learned at college, though i suppose i shall do so in another month." "you remember your speech, at least--eh, will?" "the first half; if it is necessary to make a great sensation, i can come out with that." full of the new plan of diversion, the boys, for they were boys at heart, although men in stature, set out to hunt a house; and were successful in finding one that suited their notions. very soon it was furnished in oriental style, and an inner room was fitted up with various occult instruments, calculated to inspire the minds of the vulgar with a wholesome dread. it was agreed that barrington should make very little change in his wardrobe, and merely dye his hair and whiskers, and add a richer brown to his complexion, to give a more travelled look, and, as he said, to hinder any of the saratoga belles from finding him out, if they came to have their fortunes told. but forsythe took infinite pains to alter his appearance, and was so successful, that his friend assured him his own mother could not detect his identity, and that garrick himself, who could look any character and any age he pleased, would have been jealous had he seen how successfully he had hidden his youth and beauty. when all preparations were made, the advertisement was written. it stated that "the wandering jew, having reached new york in his peregrinations, would stay for the space of one fortnight only, it being then indispensably necessary that his travels should recommence, and highly probable that he might not revisit the city for a century. being now the sole depository of the mysterious knowledge acquired in egypt in ancient times, some scraps of which had been picked up by the astrologers of the middle ages, and especially by merlin, michael scott, cornelius agrippa, and friar bacon, he was ready, during the short period of his stay, to lift the veil which separates the present from the future. not being actuated in the slightest degree by a lust for gain, the illustrious exile would not consent to gratify mere idle curiosity, and to afford amusement to the gay and frivolous; but where an earnest, inquiring mind was intent upon discovering the hidden things of life, upon investigating the secrets of the past, or searching into futurity, the wanderer would give his mighty assistance. by books and science, by spells and conjurations, the powers were compelled to reveal their arcana, and fate itself whispered its dark mysteries into his ear. the spirits being subjects of the great magician, their aid would be called in when desired. where this mode was preferred to the ordinary methods of consulting the stars, the cabala, and black-letter volumes, these intelligences answered all questions by significant raps, or in writing, guiding the hand of the wanderer, who acted as their medium." the first day that the advertisement appeared, no visitors of any distinction came to see the wanderer, who yawned, and smoked cigars, and read through the last novel, declaring that it was intolerable to be dressed up for a show, and to have nobody come to see them. but in the evening, they were rewarded for their trouble. there was a quick, nervous ring, and barrington opened the door: a timid little man walked in, looking back over his shoulder to see if he were observed. when he found himself alone with barrington, he asked, with some surprise, if he were the great magician. "i! oh, no, my lord: far be it from me. i am the humblest of his slaves. i will see if my venerable master can now receive you." opening the door leading into a back apartment, he made a low salam to the wanderer, who was seated in state upon a divan, immersed in his studies. addressing him in hebrew, with a few words of greek to make out the sense, he received a response which he interpreted to the newcomer as a permission to approach the august presence. the little man went in, feeling at every step an increase of reverential awe. the oriental, costumed with all magnificence, his hoary head bent with age, his brow, from beneath which black eyes flashed brightly, furrowed with years and care, filled him with admiration. every thing around heightened the impression. a curious-carved cabinet, whose doors looked as if they concealed a mystery, was surmounted by folio volumes filled, of course, with potent spells: and above these again, a skull and cross-bones made him shudder. in one corner was a globe, covered with strange figures, dragons, scorpions, distressed damsels fastened to a rock, etc. scattered about the room were singular instruments of various kinds, jars with hideous snakes preserved in spirits, books in unknown tongues, and parchments upon which cabalistic diagrams were portrayed, which no doubt had power to command the spirits and to reveal futurity. the wanderer waved his hand, to invite his visitor to a seat: the humble slave stood, with head meekly bowed down, near the door. with some difficulty the little man, who was frightened nearly out of his small stock of wits, explained his errand. it seems that he had fallen heir to a property, the deed of which had been lost. he had tried every method he could think of to discover it: he had rummaged over all the drawers and chests in his relative's house; he had said his prayers backwards, so that a dream might be sent him in the night; and he had been to three fortune-tellers, but strange to say, had returned no wiser than he was when he went. and now, this was his last hope: if the wandering jew, of whom he had heard so much, could not help him, he knew that no one could. he was asked in which way he wished to receive the desired information: should the answer appear in flames before him, should it be discovered by the magic books, or should the spirit of his deceased friend signify his presence to him by a rap, and then respond to the question? the stranger evidently preferred the last mode of operating, and let out the fact, in the course of conversation, that his relative had been lost at sea. the wanderer then performed various evolutions, burning incense, bowing to unseen visitors, who were admitted into the room by the slave upon a rap being heard at the door, and muttering, meanwhile, mysterious words in an unknown tongue, to which his attendant occasionally responded. the poor little man began to quake all over: he felt as if surrounded by charms, and spells, and wicked spirits. he wished himself heartily out of the house: but there was no retreat now--some ghosts it is easier to raise than to lay. when the room was filled with fragrant smoke, and the subject of the conjuration was completely mystified and frightened, selim, for so the wanderer called his assistant, brought in a circular table, around which the three seated themselves in profound silence; but the venerable oriental, who acted as the medium of communication, alone placed his hand upon it. a rap, which caused the little man nearly to jump off his chair, announced that the spirit was ready to be consulted. the medium asked, "whether the inquirer should recover his rights, and obtain a copy of the deed?" three impressive, decided raps gave an affirmative reply. "will he be satisfied upon this point to-morrow?" again three raps. "will the spirit condescend to signify, in writing, in what way he shall act to obtain this end?" three raps again testified that the amiable spirit was willing to oblige. accordingly, selim having produced an antique ink-stand and an eagle's quill--a goose quill and steel pens would have been quite too common--the hand of the medium was guided in tracing strange characters, which looked like a jumble of the greek, arabic, and cuneiform alphabets. this "spirit dialect" was translated to the inquirer: it contained a direction to call early the next morning, between the hours of eight and nine--for during that hour the fates were propitious to him--at the office of a lawyer named warren, no. broadway. upon seeing him, he was to lay down a $ gold piece, and to say that he wanted him to procure a copy of the missing will. he must answer all questions mr. warren might ask, and, above all, must feel implicit faith in him, as the agent appointed by the spirits to restore to him his property. full of awe as he was, the little man still wished to gratify his curiosity as to the manner of his kinsman's death: could that be done? "oh, yes," answered the mysterious one, "nothing is easier." as he was speaking, the table began to creak, as a ship would do in a storm. it was excessively agitated; the noise of the rudder was heard, and at last, after a series of agonizing movements, the whole concern fell over, with a sudden crash. and yet no one appeared to touch it--the passive hand of the venerable exile could scarcely have affected it so strangely. "you see the fate of the ship," said the wanderer; "it has gone to the bottom in a storm." "how very odd!" replied the simple-hearted little man; "when it came home, the captain said he had fallen overboard." "he did," answered the magician, in a solemn manner, avoiding, however, to look in the direction of selim. "did you not hear the plunge into the sea? this describes the ultimate fate of the vessel." the good, easy man was perfectly satisfied. he was directed to come on the morrow, when the deed had been found, and the correctness of the spirit's directions was fully proved: and payment was indignantly' refused. the next day, various sentimental chambermaids visited them, desiring to be shown the likeness of their future husbands. this was done, greatly to their satisfaction, by exhibiting to them one and the same hyalotype, magnified by the magic lantern, so that the life-like countenance appeared to approach them from the opposite wall in the darkened room. it was observed, that the more ignorant they were, the more were they affected with horror by the sight of the cross-bones, skull, and chemical apparatus. still, this was rather tame work; and both the aged one and selim were relieved when they saw their dupe of the preceding night reappear, with happiness beaming in every feature of his countenance. "the lawyer," he said, "had not appeared at all surprised at being told to get him a copy of the will: he said something about the recorder's office. he was a young-looking man to be chosen by the spirits: and he wanted to know who had sent him to himself. of course i told him, and then he laughed, and said it was a great humbug. i was very much afraid that the spirits would be offended, and refuse to discover to him the will: but he told me to return towards evening, and lo! here it is." the poor little man was full of the warmest gratitude, and wanted to force a purse upon the unwilling astrologers: but they finally overcame his importunities by representing that the spirits would not obey their summons, if made a subject of bargain and sale, and that he should best please them by distributing it among the sick and poor. this circumstance, which found its way into one of the daily papers, with many embellishments, brought crowds of believers in "the night side of nature" to our mischievous youngsters, who were ready to humor the credulous public to the top of its bent. very many people looked sage, and quoted the passage-- "there are more things in heaven and earth, horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." select circles of intelligent people insisted upon it, that although they could not give in their adhesion to such mysteries, yet they greatly disapproved of the spirit of skepticism which had been so prevalent for the last fifty years. the new discoveries in science plainly showed that nature had many secrets yet unrevealed to man: and no one should audaciously set a limit to his powers. did not animal magnetism, containing so many things which could not be explained away, plainly prove it? could they have seen our merry graduates, when the door was locked for the night, and the venerable wig was thrown aside, jollifying over their supper! could they have heard the peals of laughter caused by the unlooked-for success of the frolic, how would their cheeks have been covered with blushes! the astrologers became decidedly the rage: had it been their object to gain wealth, they could have charged any price they pleased for their conjurations, and would have obtained it. but their popularity was of course increased by the fact that the mysterious wanderer uniformly refused to accept any compensation, and majestically commanded those who sought his aid, to apply the sum of money offered him to the relief of the first poor widow, orphan, or aged person they met. this peculiarity induced many young persons, of a rank in life and a style of education who do not commonly patronize fortune-telling, to visit the great unknown, partly in fun, partly in earnest; for there is a vast deal of superstition hidden in the recesses of most characters, and ready to start forth at the first call. bright eyes, obscured by thick veils, excited the curiosity even of the venerable wanderer; and white, jewelled hands were extended, that his searching glance might decipher the lines of life. several interesting love-tales were poured into the sympathizing ear of benign old age, and the recollections of centuries were called up, to furnish suitable counsel and to encourage the despairing heart to hope. forsythe assured his friend that he would not exchange the knowledge of human nature, and especially of woman nature, which he had acquired in this fortnight, for the experience of ten years of ordinary life. the joke was very consistently carried out. our youngsters were both possessed of ready mother wit, and the world was charmingly mystified. the answers furnished to inquirers partook much of the dimness and ambiguity of the ancient oracular responses, when delphi was yet in its glory, and the oaks of dodona reflected some of their own rich green tint upon those who consulted its priestesses. on one occasion, "selim" found it very difficult to retain the gravity of his sad, oriental countenance. a sharp, quick-witted young fellow, frank warren, their former college chum, to whom they had sent his first fee, had accompanied the grateful little man who had made their reputation, ostensibly for the purpose of consulting the spirit of milton, but really, as they plainly perceived, to detect their tricks. they were on their guard: they had not seen warren for some time, but their former habits of intimacy made the danger of discovery imminent. it was warren's wish that the spirit should guide the pen of his medium, and accordingly our ancient sat down, and tried to indite miltonic lines. "very blank verse, indeed, it was," as he subsequently confessed to his familiar, at their midnight conference. the face of the visitor twitched convulsively as he read the so-called poetry, and the young fellows, ever ready to enjoy a joke, would have dearly loved to join him in a loud and merry peal of laughter. by a great effort, all three restrained themselves; but the inquirer remarked, with a grave countenance, that "it appeared as if the genius of milton had not expanded in the upper world--he certainly never wrote such trash when he was upon the earth. it reminded him of the saying of the wits of athens: that although apollo was the god and patron of poetry, any common rhymster would be ashamed of the lines which emanated from the deity at delphos." when selim escorted the gentleman into the outer apartment, the skeptic slipped some gold into his palm, which the former at first pretended to receive; and by cunning cross-examination, strove to make him confess that his master was not so old as he assumed to be. "how long have you been in his service?" "not very long, myself." "but do you think him as ancient as he pretends to be?" "that is a delicate question: i hardly like to answer it. to be frank, i have sometimes had doubts about the great length of his life, although i cannot feel any hesitation on the subject of his wonderful powers." "but how long have you known him?" "let me see. it was friar bacon who first introduced me to his eminence, and advised me to enlist in his service. he did not look so very old at that time, and it was only six centuries ago. this occurred at oxford, on the magic eve of st. john's day, in a.d.--i remember the date distinctly. no, between ourselves, i have some suspicions that he is not quite so old as he says he is." very soon after that, the investigator left. one thing was certain, that he had not recognized them. on the last day of their intended stay, an incident occurred which furnished a proper termination to their frolic. a rough, boorish fellow came to visit them, who evidently "hailed" from remote country districts, into which the civilizing influences of education had not penetrated. all his utterances, for his words should scarcely be dignified with the name of conversation, showed him to be ignorant in the extreme, and to be credulous in proportion. he had come to new york, hoping, in that centre of light and science, medical and theological, to find relief from a certain demon which possessed him. this wicked spirit made him often do things he didn't wish to do--caused him to foam at the mouth, tear his clothes, etc., and he wanted to know whether the wanderer was not possessed of a spell to quiet the tormentor. "certainly; follow our directions, and you never shall be troubled with him again." accordingly, the patient was brought into the back room, which had been darkened up purposely. a circle was described, within which incense was burnt, and in the centre stood the awful one in his flowing robe, with his magical wand in his hand, uttering terrible conjurations. "do you feel any thing?" he would occasionally ask the countryman, who was gaping with wonder and admiration. "n--no, i dunna that i do," the man would reply. "then it has not left you yet: you'll be sure to know when it does. you'll feel a sort of shock go all through you, and will see sparks: then open your mouth wide, and the spirit will jump out." as it was some time before the sufferer obtained relief, selim was called to his aid; and the way in which their latin and greek orations were tossed about at one another, would have astonished the professors. at last the wanderer placed the patient upon a stool, and proceeded with his incantations. suddenly the countryman uttered a shriek, and jumping into the air, cut a pigeon-wing. "he's gone! i felt him go!" he had touched the electrical machine, which had been fully charged, and was put there, as it were, in ambush. "do you feel much better?" "yes; i'm another man." the poor fellow went away, declaring himself a perfect cure. and forsythe and barrington agreed, that after such a brilliant finale it was as well to beat a retreat: just as some gentlemen, at the close of an evening visit, relate a witty anecdote, or sparkle out a brilliant repartee, snatch up their hats, make their bows, and leave you in the middle of a laugh. but another adventure was in store for them, which had not entered into their calculations at all. the play-bills show us that after a tragedy there generally comes a farce: the case was reversed with them, for they had enjoyed their farce, and had laughed over it heartily--and now there was danger of its ending in a tragedy. when their preparations were nearly complete for a sudden and inexplicable disappearance, our astrologers were horrified by the apparition, in the day time, of stars they had never consulted--stars of this gross, lower world--stars which, in case of resistance, become shooting stars, and which revolve, in very eccentric orbits, around the central police station. what these portended, it needed no wisdom of chaldean sage to decipher--exposure, ridicule, disgrace, and the prison. they had enjoyed their laugh at the world--now the tables would be turned, and the world's dread laugh be raised against them. resistance was utterly in vain. attired as they were, in flowing oriental garb, the distressed wanderer and his faithful selim were hurried into a cab, which no conjuration, not even that of "the golden eagle," could prevent from driving to the mayor's office. here they beheld their former friend, warren, evidently the "very head and front of the offending:" he was talking to the little man of the famous will case, who appeared to be on the verge of a violent nervous fever. the latter wished to escape, but the lawyer was too resolute and pertinacious to be conquered by his weak irritability, and he was obliged to resign himself into his hands. the exile had time allowed him to reflect upon his course of action. a multitude of petty cases were up for examination, and the patience of his honor, the mayor, was heavily taxed, especially as he knew that a very capital dinner and excellent company were waiting for him at home. at last this case of deception, imposture, and swindling came up in turn; but not before the aged, wrinkled, care-worn man had whispered a few words into the ears of the young lawyer, which made him start, and give the other an admiring glance of surprise, as if he recognized in him a genius of the highest order. his honor was angry and tired, and gave rather a savage look at the culprits. "a case like this needs very little proof--they are arrant swindlers, evidently--with all that foolery of dress about them! remove that wig and beard." the red blood rushed up to the cheeks and forehead of poor will forsythe, and showed itself through the yellow dye of his skin, as he was obliged to submit to this indignity; and he mentally exclaimed: "if ever i pretend again to be any thing i am not, may my head come off too!" "you appear in this case, mr. warren," said the mayor. "let me hear what can be urged against these men, and produce your witnesses." "i find that i have very little to say on the subject, your honor. it is true, i can prove that this gentleman went to consult the prisoner as to a missing will, and that he is under the impression that spirits were consulted on the occasion. but i can also prove that very sensible advice was given to my client--to consult a lawyer of great respectability and high promise; and accordingly he came to me. and further, i can prove that the astrologers did not receive one farthing in payment for their counsel, and, indeed, positively refused the offer of a handsome gratuity from my grateful client. and i can challenge any one in the city of new york to prove that, in any one case, the prisoners received money in return for advice or assistance given to any visitor. this fact takes from the case the appearance of a swindling transaction, according to the well-known law of george iii., which doubtless your honor thoroughly remembers." "there appears, then, to be no prosecution in this case? i find that, like a true lawyer, you can argue on one side as well as the other." "there is none, your honor: my client withdraws the prosecution. may i be allowed a word in private?" after a whispered consultation of some minutes, during which our unmasked jesters observed his honor cast very highly-amused glances in their direction, and heard occasional snatches of the conversation,--"ha, indeed? sons of *** and ****, do you say? the first families in the south! i knew their fathers well! tell them to come to dinner just as they are--the ladies will make allowances." but that degree of impudence was too much for the brass of even forsythe and barrington. they respectfully declined, and hastened homeward, accompanied by frank warren. one more merry supper did they eat in that house which had been the theatre for the display of so many strange adventures, and then they vanished. when morning came, no trace of the astrologers was to be found. the furniture had gone, the house was shut up, the birds had flown. had there been a storm in the night, the believers in gotham would have thought they had been claimed by their dread master, and had been snatched away in a blaze of lightning. as it was, there was nothing to reveal the mystery. the good little man, who never quite understood the scene in the mayor's office, is gratefully enjoying his property, and thinks that the wandering jew may now be in the centre of africa, or climbing the heights of the himalaya mountains. but as i happen to be better informed, i know that both he and his faithful selim slipped out of new york as quietly as possible, and returned to their homes in the sunny south. they have since then married, have settled down into quiet orderly citizens, and have given up all practical jokes; but they frequently amuse their wives with some of their varied experience, obtained when playing the rôle of astrologers in new york. "but you do not really think people could be so cheated now-a-days, uncle!" cried george. "i certainly do not consider the world too wise to be fooled in almost any way," answered his uncle. "look at the various _isms_ which have sprung up, even in our own day. think of the imposture of mormonism,--it has fairly peopled a territory. think of the pretensions of clairvoyance, claiming almost omniscience and omnipresence for the human spirit. think of matthias and his followers. but remarkable as that delusion was, it is almost forgotten now, so many extravagancies tread upon one another's heels, and hustle each its predecessor off the stage. spirit-rapping is the last, and is spreading like wildfire throughout the land: some characters have so much tinder in their composition, that they catch in a moment. but it will soon go out--'tis like the crackling of thorns under the pot--a quick blaze for a moment, and then it expires." "the alarm about witchcraft, both in england and america, was, i think, one of the most noticeable delusions of modern times," said mrs. wyndham. "how many eminent and excellent men were deceived by it! the learned, judicious, and pious sir matthew hale condemned at least one witch to be burnt alive--although, i believe, it cost him some remorse afterwards. and in new england, cotton mather was prominent in hunting out those who were supposed by their neighbors to be on too familiar terms with a certain nameless individual. i am glad i did not live in those days! if a poor old woman was ugly, and cross, and mumbled to herself, as we old women will do sometimes, and above all, if she kept a large black cat, woe betide her! her fate was well-nigh sealed." "i don't think you would have been in any danger, aunt lucy," said amy, laughing. "i don't know, indeed--probably not, while i had such an array of young people around me. but if i were left desolate and alone in the world, and became peevish and odd from the mere fact of having no one to love me, i would not have answered for the consequences at all." "i had to laugh," added ellen, "at the marvellous cure effected by the electrical machine. it reminded me of a well-attested anecdote i have read of the beneficial effects wrought by a thermometer, through the medium of the imagination. the physician intended to try whether the galvanic battery could not be usefully employed in a case of paralysis, but before commencing operations, he applied a small thermometer to the tongue of the patient. upon removing it, he was told by the latter that it gave him very curious feelings, and that he thought himself a little better. seeing the mistake he had made, the doctor resolved not to undeceive him, but to persevere in the application of the thermometer. he did so, and the man was soon a complete cure." "i have heard of instances of sudden joy or fright restoring the vital energies to poor bed-ridden mortals," said cornelia, "but to be cured by a thermometer is too comical!" "it was that powerful principle, faith," answered mrs. wyndham. "i remember very well the time when certain metallic tractors were all the fashion, to draw away pain from the parts affected, by magnetic influence. well-authenticated cures were wrought; but at last a physician applied a test, which proved the beneficial results to be entirely the work of the imagination. he had wooden tractors made, painted so as to resemble the metal ones, and they exerted equal powers. when this fact was published, of course the cures ceased, and metallic tractors became things that were." "another fact is told to show how the imagination can kill or cure," said mr. wyndham. "a criminal was condemned to death for some atrocious deed, and it was resolved to try an experiment upon him, as he would have to die at any rate. he was informed that he would be bled to death; and when the appointed time had arrived, his eyes were effectually bandaged, his arm bared, and the surgeon pretended to cut the artery. luke-warm water was poured, in a steady current, upon his arm, and trickled down into a basin below: and the physician held his hand, feeling the pulse. the wretched criminal became paler and paler, his pulse beat more faintly, and at last he died, a victim to his own imagination." "poor creature!" added mary. "and i have repeatedly heard of cases, uncle, in which persons fancied themselves about to die at a certain hour, from having had a dream to that effect, or some other supernatural indication of the will of heaven. and sometimes they actually expired, from sheer fright. but when the clock was put back an hour or two, the time passed without any fatal result ensuing." "those chaps were wilder than we are, charlie!" cried george, with an air of triumph. "yes," answered his cousin. "but i very much fear that does not prove our innocence, but only their depravity. it reminds me of that line in milton-- 'and in the lowest deep, a lower deep.'" chapter viii. confidante.--lead-merchant.--trades.--the rose of hesperus; a fairy tale. as the time drew nigh when our young party would be called upon to separate, and to return to the every-day duties of the boarding or day school, and the home, the centralizing influences of affection appeared to be felt in an increasing degree. aunt lucy remarked that they greatly resembled a flock of birds or of sheep: where one came, the rest were sure very soon to follow. cousin mary asked george, with a look of great concern, if he felt very unwell indeed. "i? oh no, i never was better in my life. what could have put the notion into your head that i was ill?" "my dear coz, you are so uncommonly good. you have not teased anna or gertrude at all to-day, and i begin to feel seriously alarmed for your health. i have so often noticed a sudden attack of meekness to precede a sudden attack of fever, that i really think it would be wiser to send for the doctor in time." "don't concern yourself," replied he. "if that be all, i can soon prove that my pulse is in good order." so saying, he gave mary's work-basket a sudden twitch, which sent her spools of cotton, winders, thimble, and emery-bag flying in every direction; when, of course, with the malice peculiar to things of such small natures, they carefully hid themselves in the darkest corners, and ran behind the legs of tables and sofas for protection, "preserve me from boys!" said mary with a laugh, as george ran out of the room. "if it were not unladylike, i really should box those ears of yours!" "they are quite large enough to bear it--no danger of their being crushed," he replied, giving a pinch to the protruding members. in the evening, as gertrude claimed the honor of having been the most stupid person in playing "elements" the night before, it was agreed that it appertained to her to introduce to the company another game. she said she had seen one played that resembled "consequences," in so far that you wrote what you were ordered, and read it aloud when it was finished: but you were not obliged to turn down the papers after writing, as you did not change them with the rest of the company. she would call this game "confidante," as she had never heard a name for it. accordingly, every one got a pencil and sheet of paper, and wrote agreeably to her directions. "let each boy write a lady's name, and each girl a gentleman's name." "now, any past time--some date, if you please; yesterday, or a thousand years ago--it makes no difference." "the name of a place." "either yes or no." "yes or no, again." "every boy write a lady's name, every girl a gentleman's." "some time to come." "write yes or no." "yes or no, again." "mention a place." "tell us your favorite color." "set down any number not exceeding ." "another color." "yes or no." "let all write a lady's name." "let all write a gentleman's name." "all, another lady's name." "every boy write a gentleman's name, every girl a lady's." "set down the name of a clergyman." "now, any sum of money." "the name of a place." "and lastly, any number." "now that we have finished, every one must read aloud his or her paper, without cheating, whatever it contains--each portion as an answer to a question. charlie, to whom did you make your first offer?" "happily, to no one present: it was to queen victoria." "when was it?" "in the year : the day columbus discovered america." "where did this interesting event take place?" "in the tower of babel." "does she love you?" "yes: how could she help it?" "do you love her?" "yes: to distraction." "whom will you marry?" "queen jezebel." "how soon does this auspicious match come off? for i want to have my wedding-dress ready." "to-morrow--new-year's day." "do you love her?" "no, not at all." "does she love you?" "no, alas!" "where does she live?" "in calcutta." "what is the color of her hair?" "brilliant scarlet." "what is her height?" "nine and a half feet." "please to mention the color of her eyes." "a charming green." "is she pretty?" "yes, very." "who is to be bridesmaid at this happy wedding?" "miss alice bolton." "who will wait upon her?" "king nebuchadnezzar." "who is your sympathizing confidante?" "cousin cornelia." "pray, tell us the name of your rival?" "his majesty, william the conqueror of normandy and england. i should not be sorry if he carried off my gentle dame." "what clergyman will marry you?" "the archbishop of canterbury." "how much is the lady worth?" "three cents." "where will you live?" "in the black-hole of calcutta." "how many servants will you keep?" "two millions, five hundred thousand." "i must say, you are moderate, considering the lady's fortune. in asking the girls, i merely reverse the questions: 'from whom did you receive your first offer?' etc. as the game wants a name, i think it should be called 'confidante:' the reader not only has a confidante in the play, but is called upon to intrust his secrets to the whole assembled company." "but isn't this rather silly--all this about love and marriage?" asked mr. wyndham, with the hesitating manner of one who knows that he shall instantly be put down. "certainly it is, my dear uncle," answered cornelia. "if it were not, we should not like it half so well, i can tell you. you know we must be foolish some time in our life--so, for my share, i'm taking it out now." "well, well--there's no harm in it, any how. though you wouldn't believe it, i was young once myself, and don't like to be too hard upon the rising generation. there's a game i remember playing when i was a youngster, that is not too wise for you, but ought to have more solidity in it than the last, as it is all about lead. it is called the 'lead-merchant.' one tries in every mode to dispose of his lead to the company, asking question after question, to which you must answer without introducing the words _lead_, _i_, _yes_, or _no_. he tries to trip you in every way, and as soon as you say one of the forbidden words, you are out of the game. would you like to try it?" "very much, uncle. will you be the lead-merchant?" "if you wish it. amy, will you buy any lead?" "not any at present." "but pray, why not?" "because none is desired at my house." "shall i call next week?" "it is scarcely worth while: we do not wish any." "i will stop to-morrow: your little boys want lead to make some bullets." "they would only burn their sweet little fingers in melting it: they must not have any." "then you will not buy my lead?" "positively not." "i noticed that the lead upon your roof wanted repairing: the rain will beat in, and you'll all be taken ill, unless you buy my lead. 'tis only one cent a pound." "if you gave it to me as a present, i wouldn't take your lead." "amy, you're caught! you said both _i_ and _lead_." notwithstanding all their care, the persevering lead-merchant entrapped every one in some moment of weakness; and the company agreed that he would make his fortune as a yankee pedlar, or as an agent for some book that nobody wanted,--many would buy to get rid of him, on the same principle that the lady married her tiresome lover. "and now," said charlie, "let us play 'trades.' we apprentice our son or daughter to some business, and mention that the first thing sold begins with a specified letter: but we must never repeat an article. the person who guesses, apprentices his son the next. i apprenticed my son to a carpenter, and the first thing he sold was a t." "a table?" asked mary. "i apprenticed my daughter to a milliner, and the first thing she sold was a yard of r. r." "red ribbon?" added gertrude. "i apprenticed my son to a grocer, and the first thing he sold was a b. of r." "box of raisins?" inquired cornelia. "i apprenticed my son to a cabinet-maker, and the first thing he sold was a s." "sofa?" said tom. "i apprenticed my daughter to a dry-goods store, and the first thing she sold was ten yards of l." "lace?" asked ellen. "no--guess again." "linen? i see that's right. i apprenticed my son to a tinman, and the first thing he sold was a n. g." "nutmeg-grater?" inquired george. "now, i apprenticed my son to a hardware man, and the first thing he sold was a p. of s." "pair of skates?" said amy. "i apprenticed my son to a book-store, and the first thing he sold was a p. b." "prayer-book? i apprenticed my daughter to a dressmaker, and the first thing she made was a v. m." "velvet mantilla?" and so the game proceeded, the questions and answers being tossed from one to another, like ball or shuttlecock, so that the general interest was kept up. "i think it high time we had our daily story," said amy. "so do i," replied her uncle; "and i commission you to tell it." "i? oh no, uncle, i'm too young. i think the older ones should have the monopoly of that trade--i wasn't apprenticed to it." "not at all--you are of suitable age to be apprenticed now, so you may consider the bargain struck. begin, my little amy, and if you break down in the middle of your tale, i'll promise to finish it myself." "very well, uncle; i feel quite tempted to fail, to inveigle you into a sensible termination to a foolish story. we often invent tales in the interval at school, and i'll give you one that my schoolmates like. it is called the rose of hesperus; a fairy tale. every one has heard of the garden of hesperus, famous in all ancient times for its exquisite beauty. its golden fruit, more precious by far than the fleece of jason, in search of which heroes perilled their lives on board the good ship argo, was watched by a terrible dragon, whose eyes were never sealed by slumber. a hundred heads belonged to the monster, a hundred flames of fire issued from his numerous throats, and a hundred voices resounded threats against the audacious being who should invade his province. hercules alone, of all the children of men, was able to overcome him: but although he then expired, the next rising sun again beheld him full of life and vigor. the dragons of earth are never annihilated. each generation has the same work to perform, has its monsters to conquer; and this it is that makes the noble heroes whom we all delight to praise. so small was the number of mortals ever favored with a sight of this earthly paradise, that it is not surprising its site is now unknown. even among the ancients, it was a matter of speculation and mystery. the majority placed it in the north of africa; and it is not improbable that travellers who for the first time beheld them, mistook for the gardens of hesperus the oases of the desert, those gems of nature which are all the more brilliant for being set in sand and clay. others again asserted that this region of delight was to be sought beyond the western main, in a lone isle if the ocean. but all agreed that it was at the west, towards the sunset, that this treasure of earth was to be found: and thence it was that the name of hesperus was bestowed upon it. strange it is, that mankind has ever followed the sun in its path; and that while human life, religious truth, and science all point to the east as their source, they hasten westward for the fulfillment of their destiny. the east belongs to the past--it is the land of memory: the west to the future--it is the land of hope: and there it is that man seeks his happiness. it is in the yet unrevealed--in the mysterious west that the golden fruits and the perennial flowers bloom for him: not in oriental climes, where, in his infancy, the garden of eden sheltered him. so great is the lust for gold, and so small the love of moral beauty among the fallen race of man, that of all the varied productions of hesperus, the golden apples alone have been mentioned in tradition and poetry. but in truth, these were far inferior to the precious roses which grew in the very centre of this paradise, and which were endowed, not only with exquisite form, hue, and fragrance, but with certain magic properties, invaluable to their possessors. if the bosom on which the flower rested were candid, pure, and kind, the rose bloomed with still richer loveliness, and emitted a delicious sweetness: and a grace was shed over the person of its owner, which grief and sickness could not dim, and old age itself was powerless to destroy. this indescribable something shone out in the eye, spoke in the voice, made the plainest features pleasing, and imparted an irresistible charm to the manner. it was as far superior to mere external beauty as the latter is to revolting ugliness. nothing could destroy it: once gained, it was a lasting heritage. but on the other hand, if this rose were possessed by the false-hearted, the sensual, and the selfish, it sickened and paled day by day, giving forth a fainter fragrance continually, until it was completely withered. and in proportion as it lost its bloom, did the hideous heart of the wearer imprint itself upon the countenance, until the eye would turn away in disgust from the most brilliant complexion and chiselled regularity of features. it acted as a moral test, making evident to the dull eye of man, ever prone to think only of outside show, the beauty or the deformity within. until the time of our story no roses had been dipt from the magic tree; and men, always ready to look to the bright side of the wonderful unknown, thought merely of the charm it could impart, and not of the danger incurred by the unlovely in heart and life. i will not attempt to fix the date of my tale with historic accuracy. it is sufficient to say that the events occurred in that period of unreasoning faith, when the myths of greece and rome were mingled in the popular mind with the fairy legends of the north; and both were baptized in the waters of christianity. it was a charming period for all lovers of romance: it was the childhood of modern europe. but i must warn you that it is in vain to search for the names of my emperors in chronological tables. they lived at a time when the historian was somewhat at a discount, and the minstrel wrote the only records, with his harp and voice, upon the memory of his hearers; save that here and there a solitary monk wore out his days in copying the treasures of antiquity, and used his imagination in embellishing the lives of saints and martyrs. when the manuscript is found which settles the exact date of king lear's reign, i cannot doubt that it will give all particulars about my kings also. in those happy, misty days, there lived an emperor of germany, hildebrand by name, a potent monarch. his court was splendid, and his retinue large and magnificent. but the chief glory of his palace, and the pride of his heart, was his daughter clotilda, whose amazing beauty formed the theme of poets' praise, and whose fame was spread far beyond the limits of the empire. her form was of queenly majesty, her movements swan-like. her glossy raven tresses set off a complexion of the greatest brilliancy: her faultless features would have served as a model to the sculptor. large, sparkling eyes gave animation to her countenance, and took all hearts by storm. add to these rare endowments a lively though malicious wit, great skill in all showy accomplishments, and especially in the arts of coquetry, and is it wonderful that she was almost worshipped in her father's court as a divinity? to win her hand, embassies were sent from distant lands, and kings even came in person to plead their cause; but, hitherto, none had been successful. the fair clotilda knew that she could choose among very many suitors, and her heart was none of the softest. besides, she was well aware that she should be no portionless bride, as she and her younger sister edith were her father's only heirs. she loved to keep many admirers in her train, but possessed too high a spirit to throw herself away upon any one inferior to herself in rank, power, or wealth. in addition to this, she had too keen a wit not to perceive and to enjoy the ridiculous, even in a suitor anxiously striving to gain her love. truth to say, the adorable clotilda had one small fault, unperceived by her worshippers, and hidden by the splendor of her beauty. she was heartless. if born with that important organ, she had early offered it up upon the altar of her own pride and vanity. deprived of her mother at a very early age, and deferred to by all around, including her imperious father, she had soon learned to issue her commands with authority, and to rule the household and the court as a mistress. love of power had now become her ruling passion, and fierce and headstrong was the will hidden under that brilliant and winning exterior. it was like a wild beast, slumbering behind a bank of roses. far different, both in person and character, was the neglected edith, who grew up in the imperial court like a sweet wild-flower, overlooked when the gorgeous exotic is nigh. her slender girlish figure, with its undeveloped grace; her airy step; her color, coming and going with the varying feelings of her quick sensibility, like the delicate pink clouds at sunset; her soft brown hair, waving around a face of child-like purity and womanly tenderness: and her large gray eye, from whose transparent depths an earnest and loving spirit looked out upon the world--these were not the traits to win admiration in a sensual, splendor-loving court, where all acknowledged the sway of clotilda. her father lavished the whole of his affection upon his elder daughter: the latter seldom noticed her, and thought her more fit for a nunnery or for a peasant's cottage, than for the station of a princess. and so edith grew to womanhood, unspoiled by flattery--that incense was reserved for clotilda's shrine. not in that crowd of selfish courtiers and of worldly women, wholly given up to dress and gayety, could the refinement and simplicity of the gentle edith be appreciated. she was with them, but not of them: hers was the loneliness most felt when in a crowd, the want of congenial companionship. her unassuming modesty and poor opinion of her own worth, saved her heart from the sharp pangs of envy at the thought of her sister's superiority: and thus, even in the impure atmosphere of the palace, did this artless maiden live on, humbly looking up to one infinitely her inferior, and dwelling in love and peace. her greatest enjoyments were of a kind despised by clotilda. it was her delight to steal away from the gay assembly, where she was never missed, and to pore over the romantic lays of troubadours and monkish legends, and to make to herself a world, different from the one in which her lot was cast. then she would be the lowly peasant-girl, singing while she worked, beloved by those for whom she toiled, and rising before the sun to deck the shrine of the virgin with flowers. or, if she were a princess, she lived but to bless and to relieve her people, and possessed the power of scattering happiness, as the beneficent night sprinkles dew-drops from her lap. from these day-dreams, the play of an active mind which had not yet found its true place in the universe, she would rouse herself to some deed of kindness, which others were too much immersed in pleasure to fulfil. if one of her maidens was ill, it was she who watched untiringly by her pillow, administering the medicines and the cooling draught. and it was she who rose by daybreak, while most of the menials of the palace were yet sleeping, and gave the daily portion of alms to the poor who waited at the gate--making the brown bread sweet by the gentle tones and kind words of sympathy. it is not strange, therefore, that edith was beloved by all the children of affliction, and that she became universally known to the common people as "the good princess." in honor of clotilda's birthday, a tournament was proclaimed, to which princes and knights from all the neighboring countries were invited. the anxiously-expected day at length arrived: the sky was cloudless, and all nature appeared to smile upon the festival. every thing was there united that could please and dazzle the eye. there were satins and damasks, cloth of gold and velvet; flowers, and cheeks more rosy; gems, and eyes more brilliant. at one end of the lists, upon his throne of gold and ivory, sat the emperor, blazing with jewels. near him stood his ministers of state, in their official robes, bearing aloft the insignia of royalty; and around him were his faithful guards, in complete armor, with drawn swords. opposite sat his queenly daughter, the beautiful clotilda, the cynosure of all admiring eyes. she was magnificently arrayed, and surrounded by a bevy of fair damsels, who shone like stars, eclipsed by the superior brightness of the moon. seated a little apart, attired in simple white with a sash of blue, and wearing no ornament save her favorite flowers, the wood-violet and the lily of the valley, was edith, gazing with unusual interest on that lively, gorgeous scene. and truly, the amphitheatre crowded with spectators, themselves a show, and the lists filled with gallant knights, whose pawing steeds seemed impatient for the combat to begin, might excite the imagination of the dullest, and was well calculated to fire her ardent spirit. unusual splendor marked this tournament, in honor of certain distinguished guests who had arrived, candidates for the hand of the princess clotilda. the most eminent among them for knightly bearing was the young duke of milan. he was handsome, proud, and imperious, but withal brave and courteous as became his gentle birth; and he was a magnificent patron of minstrels and men of letters, aiming to make his court the centre of literature and the fine arts. his personal qualities and accomplishments were such as to win for him the admiration of the fair princess, who had never before been wooed by a suitor so much to her taste. his rank and possessions were so great that all would have acknowledged the match a suitable one even for clotilda's pretensions. but a wider career of ambition was now opening before the vision of the aspiring lady. who would stoop to be a duchess, when the diadem of an empress was placed at her disposal? certainly not the princess clotilda, be her preferences what they might: she would have considered it childish folly to hesitate in her choice. and three emperors now graced the court, each provided with a numerous and splendid retinue. these daily vied with each other in gorgeous fêtes and costly presents to the proud beauty whom they hoped to win. in flowing robe of richest fabric, stiff with sparkling gems, behold the emperor of china, the sacred son of heaven, the supreme ruler of the earth! his shaven head is surmounted by a conical cap, at the crown of which one pearl of uncommon size points out his rank: beneath it hangs down a jet-black queue below his waist. his small, oblique eyes, his yellow complexion, and thin beard show him unmistakably to belong to the central flowery land. he is a heathen: but perhaps for her sake he might be baptized. at any rate, there would be little difficulty in procuring a dispensation from holy mother church, which is ever hopeful that such alliances may bring converts into her bosom. will she, can she accept him? she will at least accept his gifts and his attentions, and will decide hereafter. millions, unnumbered millions of slaves call him their lord; vast is his power and wealth; provinces would be her dowry. but would she not, herself, merely add another to his list of slaves? secluded within his palace, with many rivals to counteract her, would she not gather thorns, as well as blossoms, in the flowery land? it is a matter to be considered. but who are these two other asiatics, as they appear by their dress, fashioned in oriental magnificence? one is from the frozen north, the other from the sunny south, and they divide the east of europe between them. that pompous, formal old man, whose small heart and head are stuffed full of etiquette, and who lives and breathes only in a sense of his own importance, is the ruler of the byzantine empire. he was born in the purple chamber, and wears the purple; he eats purple, drinks purple, sleeps purple--only as the emperor does he exist--he could live as well without his head, as without his crown. he is so imbued with notions of his own dignity that he would prove a tough subject to manage. but his rival from the north is still undescribed. tremble at the sight of this ugly cossack, with small dull eye, flat nose, and bushy red beard; for in him behold the autocrat of all the russias! not yet had the genius and perseverance of peter the great introduced the arts and sciences into that vast region of snow and mental darkness. ivan, the squinter, ruled over his serfs with oriental despotism: he was ignorant, coarse, and profligate. at his feasts, the dishes were of gold from the ural mountains, and the attendants who waited upon the monarch were arrayed in all the grandeur of eastern princes; but the slightest blunder on their part subjected them to death, to the more dreaded knout, or to banishment in siberia. nominally a christian, the emperor of china is quite a saint when compared with him, and infinitely more respectable. but the czar is a fool, chiefly immersed in the pleasures of the table; and clotilda, if empress of russia, could easily seize all real power, and sway the sceptre over millions of obsequious subjects. these potentates are seated on thrones near hildebrand, to witness the spectacle. but udolpho, duke of milan, is among the combatants, mounted on a powerful charger, in armor blazing with gold: he looks like the flower of chivalry. he wears the colors of the princess clotilda, scarlet and green; and having ridden to the end of the lists, and made a lowly obeisance to his fair lady, he has returned to his place among the competitors for honor. others there are who wear the same colors, but none to compare with him in rank and knightly bearing; and as the princess gazed upon him, she wished him success. but what cavalier is this, with closed vizor, whose head towers above the rest like the cedar of lebanon above all the trees of the forest? a kingly majesty marks every motion, and notwithstanding the unusual plainness of his accoutrements, all eyes are turned upon him with interest and curiosity. he is clad in brightly-shining steel, and no heraldic emblems show his rank. his moorish page bears before him his shield, upon the black ground of which one blooming rose, and the motto _quero_, "i seek," form the only device. he is an utter stranger to all: yet both emperor and princess command the herald to discover who he is. that he is illustrious, none can doubt. a blue ribbon, worn upon his arm, shows that he has not enlisted himself among the admirers of the lady clotilda: in whose honor can he wear it? when the heralds have taken the oath of the combatants that they will in all respects obey the laws of chivalry in the approaching conflict, the names and titles of those who were about to engage in it were called aloud, with the sound of the trumpet. when the unknown knight was courteously requested to announce his name, he gave that of "the knight of the blooming rose." the mystery as to who he could be increased the interest felt in him; and as one after another of the cavaliers was unhorsed by his firm and skilful arm and rolled in the dust, the excitement became intense. the grand duke udolpho had also greatly distinguished himself, and it was soon very evident that the victory would lie between these two. clotilda's sympathies were enlisted on the side of udolpho: edith's, for the knight of the blooming rose, whose success she watched with breathless interest. the contest was not long undetermined: the shouts of the populace, and the waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs by fair hands, soon proclaimed the unknown cavalier to be the victor. escorted by the heralds he approached the emperor, who, after pronouncing a eulogy upon his bravery and skill, threw round his neck a costly chain, and placed in his hand the wreath to be worn by the queen of love and beauty, whose duty it should be to preside over the games during the remainder of the week, and to distribute prizes to the winners. it was his envied privilege to confer this dignity upon the lady who was fairest in his eyes. as he rode round the barriers, gazing at the numberless lovely faces assembled there, many a heart thrilled with emotion; and as he passed the princess clotilda, surprise, mortification, and resentment could only too plainly be traced upon her countenance. never before had she been so slighted. but when the knight stopped before the lady edith, and kneeling down, besought her to confer dignity upon the office of queen of love and beauty by filling it, the young girl's astonishment was great, as she had not for a moment thought of herself as a candidate for the honor. quickly recovering herself, however, with the native courtesy of the high-born lady, agreeably to the manners of the day, she raised the cavalier, and taking off her blue sash, fastened it round his waist with her own hands, begging him to wear it as her knight, and ever to prove himself faithful and brave. thus ended the first day's tournament. meanwhile, the burghers and yeomanry joined in the general festivity, having wrestling-matches, quoits and bowls, and various other rural games. a purse of gold was conferred upon the victors, and barrels of beer were continually running for the benefit of the public. the noble guests were invited to a banquet at the palace, which was to be repeated daily during the continuance of the games. the knight of the blooming rose was, of course, a prominent person in these gay assemblies, and his noble person and courtly bearing greatly excited the admiration of the ladies of clotilda's circle. but while courteous to all, his marked deference to the gentle edith plainly showed that he was faithful to his allegiance. it was a new experience to the timid girl to be thus singled out in preference to the more brilliant beauties around her; and while it raised her in the estimation of others, it gave a decision and self-possession to her character in which it was previously deficient. and the intimate intercourse which she thus enjoyed with a kindred mind of high cultivation, earnest thought, and large acquaintance with mankind, gave a stimulus to her mental powers which only human sympathy can impart. the emperor himself was greatly pleased with the gallant knight, and frequently honored him with confidential conversation. and yet no one could discover who he was. free and unreserved in his communications with those around him, when this subject was approached, his lips were sealed in silence, and a certain dignity of manner warned off all intrusion. efforts were made to arrive at the truth through the medium of his page; but the noble-looking moor was a mute, and would only hold intercourse with those around him by gestures and expressive looks. in the succeeding days of the tournament, various games of knightly skill and prowess engaged the attention of the competitors for honors, and in all of them did our cavalier come off victorious. in the use of the bow he was unrivalled, ever piercing the centre of the target, and bringing down the bird upon the wing. udolpho of milan was the second in distinction, and the two were united by a generous friendship. the last day was a trial of minstrelsy. in this, also, the knight of the blooming rose bore the palm away from all his rivals, both professional and amateur. accompanying himself upon the harp, he sang spirit-stirring lays which awakened the enthusiasm of all his auditors. in the evening, the emperor requested him to give the meaning of his motto, and of the emblem on his shield. taking the harp, and striking up a bold and brilliant prelude which gradually arranged itself into a simple air of great beauty, he sang as follows: "not wealth nor trappings proud, nor shouts of envying crowd, that swell both long and loud, 'i seek.' "no jewels from the mine, nor gold, so pure and fine, nor generous, sparkling wine, 'i seek.' "soft pleasure's bonds are vain-- i feel for them disdain; and still, through toil and pain, 'i seek.' "it is not kingly crown-- that subjects may kneel down, and tremble at my frown-- 'i seek.' "to keep my knightly oath, be faithful to my troth, to god and jesu both, 'i seek.' "to help the poor that cry-- to wipe the widow's eye-- to humble tyrants high, 'i seek.' "the maiden weak to save, to free the christian slave, and punish impious knave, 'i seek.' "at noblest deeds i aim. to win a lofty name upon the roll of fame, 'i seek.' "to pluck the magic rose in hesperus which grows, and fadeless beauty knows, 'i seek.' "to wear it on my breast-- there may it ever rest!-- honor and truth to test, 'i seek.' "to lay it at the feet of noble lady sweet: for her an off'ring meet! 'i seek.' "to win fair edith's praise-- merit the poet's lays-- grow nobler all my days-- 'i seek.'" "and is it really the wonderful rose of hesperus which you seek?" asked the monarch: "that magic flower hitherto unplucked by mortals? bring one to each of my daughters, and i here pledge you my word that you shall wed one of them, if you can gain her consent!" the knight, full of gratitude, knelt down to express his thanks. he then told the emperor and the listening edith in what manner he had been led to take the vow to acquire these precious roses, and to place this emblem upon his shield. he had been engaged in defence of his native land against the invader and the oppressor, but his efforts, and those of a small, brave band of friends, had been wholly in vain: his country was crushed by the ruthless heel of despotism. on that night when it had been agreed in assembled council that all resistance was fruitless, and that nothing now remained for patriots but to seek freedom in exile, after tossing in troubled slumbers, he had been visited with a calming and inspiring dream. he saw bending over him a lovely female form, which he knew instinctively to be that of his guardian angel. she was clothed in white, and a soft light streamed out from her soul. the morning before the tournament, as he rode along at break of day, he had seen the princess edith bending down to speak encouragement to a poor cripple, and he had at once recognized the earthly form of which he had then seen the glorified image. the angel spoke, and commanded him not to yield to despair: she had work for him still to do. she said that, with her help, he should pluck roses from the gardens of hesperus, which mortal man had never yet done. she gave him exact directions how to reach the spot where the invisible gate was placed, through which alone he could enter the charmed paradise. only at sunrise, upon the repetition of a form of words, which she gave him, could a brave knight, of unsullied honor and purity, obtain admittance. and only at sunset could he leave, upon reciting the same formula. and then telling him that the accomplishment of this feat would lead to the fulfilment of his destiny, and that a crown yet awaited him, she had suddenly vanished, leaving a smile upon the air. the next day, having bid adieu to his friends at court, the cavalier departed with his moorish page. they travelled in a southwesterly direction, towards the mediterranean sea. it is worthy of remark, that when they had passed away from towns and populous districts, the page rode alongside of his master, instead of following at his former humble distance. and, miraculous as it may appear, it is very certain that they no longer conversed together by signs, but with audible sounds. at length they reached the borders of the sea. following it for a few days, they came to a lofty rock: here they alighted, and searching carefully along the water's edge, the knight perceived a small entrance, so covered up by overhanging grass and ferns that one unacquainted with its existence could never have detected it. entering, they found themselves in a lofty and spacious cave, where nature had amused herself by uniting in strange confusion the odd and the beautiful. the roof was hung with sparkling stalactites, and wonderful forms were ranged around. there was an organ, with its numerous pipes--but the wind was the only musician. there was a lofty throne--but the king was not yet born who would fill it with dignity. there was a pulpit--but solitude was the only preacher. strange shapes, like those in a hindoo rock-temple, were ranged along into the darkness. stars and flowers of crystal were strewed around, and the grotto looked like a fit abode for sylphids or fairies. the deep blue water formed a lake in the centre, upon the bosom of which a small boat lay sleeping like a swan. when the knight and his page had sufficiently admired the beauties of the place, the cavalier advanced to the edge of the lagoon and called the boat. it instantly waked up, and came like a living thing to crouch at his feet. the two friends stepped into it, and it shot out of the cave into the broad open sea, darting across the water with the speed of the wind. no visible means of motion could be detected; no sail or oars were there in the fairy boat--there was nothing mechanical about it; but it sped on its way like a water-bird or a graceful nautilus. once, indeed, gazing into deep blue water, the knight fancied that he saw a soft white hand, with rings of pearl and bracelet of coral, guiding it in its course; but if this were not the effect of his heated fancy, the hand was at least speedily withdrawn, and he saw it no more. when the moon had risen upon the expanse of waters, which reflected her image, breaking it into a thousand fragments--while the waves danced up to greet her bright face, like children clamoring for a mother's kiss--the little boat ran into a quiet inlet, and stopped to let its passengers alight. they rested that night in an orange-grove, and awoke refreshed, to begin their search while the bright morning-star was still shining. at the break of day they arrived at lofty perpendicular rocks, which, after pursuing a straight line, suddenly formed a right-angle. here the knight and his companion stopped, and turning to the east, awaited the sunrise. at the moment when the glorious orb of day started up from his couch, impatient to commence his course, the cavalier spoke: "open, thou gate of stone, for the hour has come, and the man." at these words, with a noise like that of thunder, the rock was rent asunder, and a wide passage was opened, through which the friends proceeded. it had appeared to be a lofty chain of mountains, but they were soon at the end of it, and came out into the open air. but an obstacle opposed itself. a huge dragon, ladon the terrible, reared up his hundred heads, his eyes flashing fire and fury, his mouths emitting baleful flames and pestilential breath, his tail, covered with metallic scales of green, scarlet, and blue, coiling away to a great distance. the page drew his sword; but the knight took a little black book and aimed it at the volcanic heads. it was a holy book, and the names therein quenched the threatening fire and quelled the rage of the monster, who sank back exhausted upon the green sod, and slept the sleep of death. "that little book can do more than the sword," remarked the cavalier. they proceeded onward: the earthly paradise was unfolded to their view; the air was balmy, and laden with rich fragrance from the numberless flowers around; but instead of filling the spirit with soft languor, and indisposing the body to exertion, the gentle breezes imparted new vigor to the frame, and the buoyant, hilarious feelings of early youth shot through the veins, making the thoughtful eye sparkle, and giving to the grave foot of saddened maturity the elasticity of childhood. a new, unsuspected power of enjoyment was awakened in the bosom of the friends, combining somewhat of the gladness of the child, and the ardor of the youth--qualities, alas, how transitory!--with the appreciating taste and refined feelings of riper years. many faculties lie dormant in our nature: the capacity for much higher happiness is one of them; and it will be awakened in the breast of all the good in the resurrection morn. they may have lain down to die, weary and heart sore, but they shall find that "light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart." with joyful spirits, their eyes drinking in beauty, and their ears harmony, the knight and his comrade moved along, guided by wayward fancy. here a sparkling, dancing rivulet would entice them to follow its course, amid mossy rocks, flowery banks, and drooping trees, which whispered their secrets to its babbling waves; and then suddenly it would vanish into the earth, like a child playing at hide-and-seek, gurgling a merry laugh at its bewildered followers. at every step a new beauty was unfolded. now the brilliancy of hue and splendor of coloring in the sky, the flowers, the birds, filled their minds with admiration: but when they wandered into the deep, cool woods, with their sober tints, and their mysterious whispers, they gave the latter the preference. and when they left these green recesses, and viewed the extensive landscape opened before them--gently swelling hills, distant mountains, and the boundless ocean--then they wondered that more limited scenery could have given such entire satisfaction. climbing among the rocks, wild and sublime views, of a rugged grandeur, prepared their souls for nature's masterpiece, the foaming waterfall. down the stupendous precipice rolled the torrent, masses upon masses of water, almost lost to the eye in the dark distance below; while, above, the gorgeous rainbow closed it in, as if a crown of glory were bestowed upon it in recompense for its agony. and day and night a voice might be heard from its mighty heart, "i can endure forever and forever." then the friends felt how deep is that bliss which takes away all words--they felt how great a joy there is in awe. descending from these heights, soft scenes of beauty attracted their gaze. the setting sun threw its mellow light over a landscape of italian character; it seemed as if nature and art were here combined to make perfection. statues of rare loveliness took them by surprise when strolling over the grassy walks, or sauntering under the deep umbrage of the trees; mossy grottoes, adorned with shells, invited them to repose; unexpected openings in the woods revealed vistas beyond, exciting to the imagination. lakes of crystal clearness reflected the fleecy clouds, and the snowy forms of the swans upon their azure surface; and gold and silver fishes chased each other through their pellucid waves. birds of brilliant plumage came there to lave in the pure water, and then shaking off the diamonds from their wings, rose into the air with a gush of melody, pouring out their souls to their maker. and all gentle and exquisite creatures were met together in that spot, to glad the eye with life--the soft-eyed gazelle, the swift antelope, the graceful stag, the java deer, smallest of its kind: nothing was absent which could add beauty and variety to the scene. amid such innocent joys, drinking in poetry at its very fount, several days were passed, each shorter than the one preceding. their hunger was satisfied with delicious fruits; and when weary, a natural couch of moss received them, and the trees locked their arms together, and bent over them, as if to keep off all harm, if harm could have existed in that place. it seemed that life could glide away in perfect bliss in those gardens of beauty, where naught repulsive or annoying could enter, and delight succeeded delight. could glide away, did i say?--not there; for in the centre of that paradise flowed the fountain of eternal youth, and over its brink hung the bush whose magic roses were famed abroad. the sight of them awoke the sleeping energies of the noble and resolute knight. "and shall i falsify my motto?" said he. "shall the bliss of the present satisfy me, while so much remains unaccomplished--while might is triumphant over right, innocence is oppressed, and brute force bears rule upon the earth? shall i lap my soul in indolent ease while the work of life is before me? not so: still must i seek what is higher, purer, nobler; still must my heart pant for excellence; still must i learn bravely to endure." speaking thus, he plucked three roses from the magic tree, and placed them upon his breast, and as the sun approached the western horizon, the comrades drew near to the gate which separated them from the world of common life. the stony barrier opened before the charmed words, and when they had emerged from its gloom, closed again with a clap of thunder. never since has mortal man profaned those regions of unclouded happiness. their little fairy skiff speedily conveyed them to the cave, and with the early morning they resumed their journey. their route lay, as before, through an attractive country, and the peasants, in picturesque costumes, were engaged in the various labors of rural life: but how changed did all at first appear! it seemed as if scales had fallen off their eyes, showing coarseness and deformity, where previously none had appeared. they had tasted the rapture of a more beautiful life; and now the ordinary toils of humanity appeared "stale, flat, and unprofitable," and common men and women tedious, rude, and mean. but the brave knight struggled against this feeling. "shall we be so ungrateful, because a glimpse of the earthly paradise has been vouchsafed us, as to sink into idle, repining dreamers? shall we allow the visions of fancy, or the charms of nature, to steal away our hearts from human sympathy? rather let these remembered joys excite us to fresh effort; let the useful and the good be ever clad with beauty, in our eyes; let us act as men, strive and be strong in our rightful purposes, sure that in the end the true will ever prove to be the beautiful." he might have said, in the language of a modern poet, "i slept, and dream'd that life was beauty; i woke, and found that life was duty: was then thy dream a shadowy lie? toil on, sad heart, courageously, and thou shall find thy dream to be a noonday light and truth to thee." in due time, they arrived at the imperial court. some important events had taken place during their absence. the splendors of royalty had not been able to preserve the emperor from a loathsome disease, from which his attendants fled away in horror. the princess clotilda could not endanger her beauty by approaching his side; neither did the cares and toils of a sick-bed comport with her views of life. but edith now took her rightful position, and by her fearless example recalled those around her to a sense of duty. she was her father's gentle, untiring nurse: his wishes were forestalled, his fretfulness soothed, and his thoughts directed to higher things. she rose in her father's love day by day, as he felt her worth; and bitterly did he now think of the undeserved slight with which she had been treated, while the ungrateful clotilda had been his pride. he was at present recovering from his illness; but he felt himself unequal to the labors of his position, and had seriously resolved to lay down the crown and sceptre, that he might end his days in peace. he had announced the day when his daughters should fix upon one of the suitors for their hands, and when the assembly of barons and knights should decide upon the successor to his throne. the knight of the blooming rose was gladly welcomed back to court. in the emperor's presence, he presented the magic flower to each of his fair daughters,--his own bloomed sweetly upon his breast, proving the purity and fidelity of his heart. edith's cheek was pale, from her late watchings; but never had she looked more lovely than when she placed the rose upon her bosom; her face was glorified by its expression. and clotilda's ill-concealed scorn and jealousy not only detracted from her queenly beauty, but the flower paled as it touched her breast--pride and worldliness, and every selfish passion, had swayed her being too long, to be repressed at a moment's notice--like the fumes of poison, they were taking away the life of the precious rose. it was impossible that the contrast should not be noticed: comparisons were made which filled the mind of the despotic clotilda with rage against her unoffending sister; and the more violent her evil passions became, the fainter grew the perfume of her flower, and the more fading its hue. not all the flattery of her adorers could restore her equanimity; and her face showed, only too plainly, the workings of the evil spirit within. at last the day approached when the fate of the empire and of so many individuals was to be decided. clotilda, meantime, consistent in her desire for universal sway, received the homage of all her admirers, but refused to declare her preference until the day of public betrothal--the day when she proudly expected to be hailed as empress. her numerous suitors indulged in flattering hopes, each for himself; while all agreed in pitying the delusion of the rest. the electors met in the audience-chamber, which was splendidly decorated for the occasion: all the dignitaries of the state, and the great nobility were assembled, presenting a very imposing spectacle. the emperor was seated upon a throne, but the crown and sceptre, whose weight he felt himself unequal longer to endure, lay upon a cushion at his side. the people, in a dense mass, thronged the courtyard of the palace, anxious to know the result of the election, and to hail the new lord of the land. at the appointed hour, the doors were flung open, and the two royal brides entered, followed by their maids of honor. clotilda, self-possessed in her proud beauty, looked like a queen indeed. she was magnificently dressed, and the pale, scentless rose upon her breast was almost hidden by diamonds. but many there turned their eyes from her handsome, haughty face, to gaze upon young edith, who leaned upon the arm of her betrothed, the unknown knight. they wondered that they had never before remarked the exquisite delicacy and sensibility of her countenance, the very exponent of the beautiful soul within, which flashed out brightly as if through a transparent covering. when in repose, the calm and happy expression reminded the beholder of the deep purity and peace of the sunny sky--when moved by passing thoughts and feelings, of the same heavens, ever heavenly, over which the fleecy clouds are driven by the wind, in varying shapes and hues. edith's dress, though elegant, was as simple as consisted with her rank. the pearls and white jasmine in her hair well became her, and the magic rose upon her breast adorned her as no jewels could, and filled the chamber with its rich, refreshing fragrance. as the sisters stood, one on each side of their father, they might well have passed for types of spiritual and sensual beauty--of heaven and earth. the emperor arose, and addressed the assembly. he said that the cares of state weighed too heavily upon his feeble old age, and that his most earnest wishes were now directed to a tranquil retirement, in which he should enjoy the leisure he required for preparations to meet the king of kings. that his daughters were before them--he wished to see the diadem encircling the youthful brow of one, whichever they should choose. but well he knew that a firm and valiant arm was needed to sway the sceptre, and that an experienced mind must govern the nation; and therefore it was his will that the princesses should this day make known their choice of a consort from among the many candidates for their hands. his younger daughter, edith, had already plighted her faith, with his entire approval, to the stranger knight. no kingdom awaited her, for her betrothed was a landless exile; but the fame of his valor and wisdom had gone throughout the earth--and in the future husband of his daughter he now presented to them one whom he was proud to claim as a son--arthur, prince of britain, the renowned champion of christendom! at these words, shouts of enthusiastic joy rent the hall. when the tumult was hushed, the emperor called upon the suitors of the princess clotilda to come forward. the rival sovereigns approached, among whom the duke of milan was conspicuous for dignity and knightly courtesy. all wished him success; but clotilda passed him by, and placed her hand within that of the czar. at that moment, a sound was heard throughout the hushed room, resembling somewhat a deep sigh and an expiring groan--it proceeded from the rose, which fell from her bosom, shrivelled and lifeless. an expression of disdainful rage rendered her face almost repulsive, as she noticed the sensation excited by the circumstance, and the cold, gloomy silence with which her choice was received. after a short conference, the electors reported that they had chosen arthur of britain and the princess edith to be their lawful sovereigns. hildebrand then led them to a balcony, and presented them to the people; and loud and enthusiastic were the shouts of the populace: "long live our emperor, arthur the brave! long live the good princess!" the plaudits were echoed far and wide. the achievements of the noble arthur, and the kind deeds of "the good princess," formed the theme of the fireside-tale in the humble cottage, and of the troubadour's lay in castle and banquetting-hall. arthur, who in britain was mourned as dead, or as lying in enchanted sleep with his good sword excalibar at his side, ready to start up to his country's rescue in some hour of future peril--enjoyed, instead, a happier fate. long and glorious was his reign: the wicked fled away from his presence, like mists before the sun; the upright rejoiced under his protection, and peace reigned throughout all the borders of the empire. excalibar was sheathed: no foes dared to invade the land. brightly and sweetly bloomed the magic roses, which once grew on the same tree in the earthly paradise, and which were now seldom far asunder; flourishing, in their transplanted state, upon hearts which diffused a moral paradise of love and purity around them. and what became of the imperious clotilda? enraged at the decision of the electors, and at her father's acquiescence, she soon left the imperial court to accompany her lord to his distant empire. there her life passed unhappily enough amid the rude magnificence and brutal amusements of the palace. she did not find that ivan was easily managed, as she had hoped: fools seldom are--it requires a portion of good sense to perceive our deficiencies, and to allow the superiority of others. they became more and more estranged, both giving way to the evil passions most natural to them. ivan, indulging in sensual pleasures, became more and more brutified; and clotilda, yielding up her soul to the dominion of pride, hatred, and violence, became so embittered against her unfortunate husband that she compassed his death by violence, and seized the crown, reigning in the name of her infant son, constantine. and never, under the most despotic sovereigns, had the iron rule been exercised with more unrelenting vigor than during the reign of clotilda the terrible. but a day of vengeance was at hand. a secret conspiracy was formed, at the head of which her young son was placed: the palace was seized in the night, and the murderess was hurried away to a distant fortress, where she spent the remainder of her unhappy life--the victim of her own ungoverned passions. "how i wish that i possessed such a magic rose!" said alice bolton. "it might cure my unfortunate pug nose--i should so love to be beautiful!" "you own such a rose, my dear girl," said her uncle. "it is invisible, but i often perceive its fragrance. each one of you carries such an indicator of character and feeling about with you, wherever you go. we may as well call it a rose as any thing else." "but what can you mean, uncle? do you mean our tell-tale faces?" "nothing else. it is one of the many proofs of beneficent design in the formation of our frame, than we can scarcely help giving a timely warning to others of the evil passions which may fill our breasts. the angry man becomes inflamed or livid with rage before his arm is raised to strike--just as the rattle-snake is heard before he darts upon his victim. and so with the gentle and kind emotions. friendly feeling softens the eye and soothes the heart before the tongue utters a sound. then take my advice, my dear nephews and nieces, if you wish to be attractive now, seek moral beauty, and the external will follow, in some degree here below, and completely in a better world. you can afford to wait." chapter ix. new-year's day.--characters, or who am i?--quotations.--acting charades.--riddles. "a very happy new-year to you, aunt and uncle!" "the same to you, dear children! and may each one in your lives be happier than the last!" "as the spaniards say, 'may you live a thousand years!'" cried charlie bolton. "i feel glad that wish is an impossible one," answered mr. wyndham, with a smile. "how tired the world would be of seeing me, and how weary i should be of life! no, no, my boy--i hope when my season of active labor shall be closed, and i can no more be useful to my fellow-men, that my kind father in heaven will grant me a mansion above, where time is swallowed up in eternity." there was service in the morning in the pretty little country church. strange that this beautiful and appropriate mode of commencing the new-year, which is so general in continental europe, should be frequently neglected here! it appears so very natural, upon entering upon a new division of time, to consecrate its commencement by acknowledgments of our dependence upon the great creator. at least, so thought the family party assembled at the grange; and they were amply rewarded for the effort it cost them by the joyful, hopeful nature of the services, which were intended to lead the soul to repose upon god with unshaken trust for all future time. in the evening, it was agreed that there should be no story, but that games and conversation should fill up the time. mary proposed a new game she had heard of, "_characters, or who am i?_" while one left the room, the rest agreed upon some historical personage who was to be represented by the absentee upon his return. when he re-entered, unconscious whether he was a nero or a howard, they addressed him in a manner suitable to his rank and character, and he replied in such a way as to elicit further information in regard to the important question, "who am i?" as he grew more sure of his own identity with the illustrious person whose deeds they alluded to, his answers would become more unequivocal, until at last he could announce that he had solved that difficult problem, "know thyself." an amusing state of puzzle--a dreamy feeling that you might be anybody in the world, was found to pervade the first replies. cornelia, who led the way in assuming a character, declared that she felt like the little woman in mother goose's melodies, "if i be's i, as i suppose i be, i have a little dog at home, and he knows me!" and that when she found out who she really was, it was as grateful to her as was the little dog's joyous bark to the unfortunate woman, doubtful of her own identity. when cornelia entered, mary said to her: "does your majesty feel very sore from your fall?" "very little bruised, indeed." "physically, i presume that you feel nothing; but you must suffer mentally," remarked ellen. "for a queen to be so disgraced, and for a moment's pride to be brought down to the rank of a subject, and of a divorced wife, is indeed a dreadful fate." "a lofty mind," replied cornelia, "can bear reverses." "true," rejoined charlie. "i rejoice to see your majesty bear up so nobly: it is well that pride can sustain you in adversity, since it occasioned your descent. and yet, do you know, most sovereign lady, i have always entertained the idea that the reason you refused, in obedience to your royal husband's command, to unveil your beauty to the court, was not so much modesty and pride, as the fact of an unfortunate pimple upon your nose, and a sty upon your eye, which had the effect of making you look uncommonly ugly." "shame, ungallant sir! never, unless my silver mirror deceived me, did i look more lovely. but if the laws of the medes and persians cannot be changed, neither can the modest customs of their women be altered, even at the command of the king, of ahasuerus himself. i stand here, a martyr to the rights of my sex: i, vashti, queen of persia, and of all the ends of the earth, have proved myself to be strong in will, and the champion of womanhood. i shall appear before all eyes as the first asserter of woman's rights. but oh! that jewish girl! that modest, shrinking, beauteous, hateful esther! that _she_ should wear my crown!" "well done, cornelia! you have entered into the spirit of the game. and now charlie should go out, as you caught the idea from him." upon charlie's re-entrance, alice spoke: "did dante's genius inspire you, gifted mortal, or did you sit so long at the feet of isaiah, that your harp caught up some of the tones of his?" "don't know, ma'am, indeed. couldn't possibly give you any information on that subject. scarcely knew i was much of a poet until you told me." "a man like you," said ellen, "did not write for the unthinking multitude, but for the select number who could appreciate. 'fit audience, though few,' is what you ask for. how shameful is it that such worth and genius should languish in obscurity, in a pleasure-seeking age! and that, while court minions rolled in luxury, you should sell your glorious poem for the paltry sum of ten pounds!" "it was really too bad," replied charlie. "and the money went very fast, too." "and yet," answered amy, "you were never of prodigal habits. you lived simply, in the country: your supper was of bread and milk; your greatest pleasure, to play upon the organ, or to listen to the music of others. you retired early to rest: to be sure, you often awoke in the night, your brain so filled with visions of beauty that you felt obliged to arouse your daughter, that she might write them down, and so they were saved for the benefit of future ages." "what do people think," said charlie, "about my waking up my daughter, instead of taking the trouble to write down my poetry myself?" "how could you, when you are stone-blind? and of what great consequence was it that one common-place girl should sleep an hour or two later in the morning, when such strains as yours were in question? a dutiful daughter would feel honored by acting as your amanuensis, even in the night season. true, the girl did grumble occasionally, being afflicted with some portion of human weakness; and those who do not love inspiring strains have called you cross, in consequence. but you should no more regard these things than samson--your own samson agonistes--caved for the mockings of the philistines." "of man's first disobedience"--began charlie. "hurrah! i feel quite elevated since i have become miltonic. and yet, do you know, i would rather wear a strait-waistcoat than try long to sustain such a character as that. i couldn't do it, indeed." "i think you could not," replied tom. "now tell us whose speech gave you the first impression of being milton?" "oh, amy's, to be sure. so go out, little amy, and we'll try to find some very angelic character for you to fill." when amy returned, anna spoke: "what remarkable worldly prosperity! and yet, though a strikingly handsome woman, with polished manners, and italian craftiness, you do not look happy." "i am not--my heart is not at ease." "nor your conscience either," rejoined charlie. "unless you have found some way to polish that, to make it match your face and manners, i should think your majesty might find your conscience rather a disagreeable companion." "my majesty is not accustomed to rebuke." "i know it--and if i were in france, i should fear that some of your italian powders might be sprinkled in my food or wine, in consequence. but i wonder when i think of you--a simple duke's daughter--being raised to the throne; and not only that, but of your ruling so absolutely over the three kings, your sons. mother-in-law to one of the greatest kings of france, and to the most renowned of beautiful, suffering queens, what more do you want to make you celebrated?" "one thing only," answered amy. "the massacre of st. bartholomew will carry my name down to posterity. my daughter-in-law, mary, queen of scotts, was interesting, but i am great. she could kill one husband: i, catharine de medici, will not say how many men groaned out my name that night." "and now," said ellen, "let us play _quotations_. one quotes a well-known passage from some book, and if another mentions the author, she is entitled to propose the next passage. it all depends for interest upon our cleverness; so brighten up your wits, cousins mine." "as i'm a poet," said charlie, "i'll give you this: 'the poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven.'" "shakspeare!" cried tom. "now where does this come from: 'the better part of valor is--discretion.'" "shakspeare again," replied alice. "and in what book do you find this passage, which corroborates that noble sentiment: 'he that fights and runs away, may live to fight another day.'" "in butler's hudibras, i believe," rejoined ellen. "and where may that truth be found, which evidently is intended only for boys and men--'use every man after his desert, and who shall escape whipping?'" "of course it was said by no one else than will shakspeare, the deer-stealer--he knew it held good of himself, and was indulgent to others. and who was it that wrote this epitaph: 'underneath this stone doth lie as much beauty as can die: which in life did harbor give to more virtue than can live.'" "that was 'rare ben jonson,' i am sure," replied alice. "if her pale ghost could have blushed, i think it would, at such lofty and exquisite praise. for my part, i could say, 'speak of me as i am; nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.'" "that's shakspeare again," cried charlie. "it is surprising how many passages come into one's head from that wonderful man's works. where is this to be found: 'god tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.'" "in the bible, of course--though i do not remember in what part," said mary. "think again," replied charlie, "for you are quite wrong: it can never be found in the bible." "oh, but i'm sure it is there: i'll get a concordance and find the passage in a minute." accordingly she did so, but was obliged to acknowledge herself defeated: it was nowhere to be discovered. "since you are at a loss, i can set you right, for once," said mrs. wyndham. "the passage is to be found in sterne's works: i have myself heard it quoted in the pulpit as from the bible, and many people really think that it is. here's another: 'when greek meets greek, then comes the tug of war.'" "that's from shakspeare, i know," answered tom. "'tis from troilus and cressida, i imagine--that is a greek play." "then find it, my boy," said mrs. wyndham, handing him mrs. cowden clarke's elaborate volume. "it is not in the whole book," replied tom, after a diligent search, laying down the volume, with a face as blank as the leaves at the end. "if it is not in shakspeare, i give up." "'how poor are they, that have not patience!'" cried cornelia. "can you tell us where that piece of wisdom may be found?" "yes--in shakspeare--the same author who writes 'this was the most unkindest cut of all!'" "i thought of that passage concerning the greek, which seems to have baffled you all," rejoined mrs. wyndham, "because i was once a whole year on the watch to discover it. it happened to be quoted at a little literary gathering, and none of us could tell the author, although it was 'familiar in our mouths as household words.' we agreed to search for it, but it was full a year before i found it, in looking over the play--quite a celebrated one--entitled 'the rival queens,' by poor nat. lee, commonly called the 'crazy poet.' alexander the great is the hero." "we know so many quotations at second-hand," said mrs. wyndham, "that i like this game: it will set us to hunting up the original passages, and seeing their connections. if people would act upon this principle, of going to head-quarters, with regard to history--and in private life too--how many mistakes might be saved." "and now, just to keep us from becoming too wise," cornelia chimed in, "i propose that we act charades. a group of us will arrange the plot in the library, and when we open the door, the rest of you must guess from our actions what word we intend to depict. we'll choose one of several syllables, so that there will be repeated opportunities given you to sharpen your wits. and if you should conjecture the whole word before we are through, please not to spoil sport by telling it." "we are all obedience," was the reply: and cornelia, charlie, and george, after a whispered consultation, and a foraging expedition into the housekeeper's room, shut themselves up in the library. soon the door was thrown open, and the three were seen gravely seated at a small table, sipping imaginary tea, while cornelia, as hostess, was anxious to fill her part by replenishing their cups. "tea," "tea," sounded from every part of the room, and the door was closed. when again opened, the three cousins were disclosed in the very height of enjoyment: charlie's mirth-provoking face, cornelia's gay laugh, and george's loud and long haw-haw, quite upset the gravity of the spectators, and peal after peal of laughter rewarded the trio. "how merry we are!" said aunt lucy. as she spoke the word, the door was shut, showing that the right expression had been used. when re-opened, cornelia was discovered carefully arranging charlie's cravat. "shall i make a sailor's knot, or how shall i fix it?" "give it a plain tie, if you please." there was little difficulty in discovering that the word was _temerity_; and to make "assurance doubly sure," the whole of it was acted out. george and cornelia stood up, holding hands, while charlie, who had in a marvellously short time metamorphosed himself into a minister, with gown, bands, and book, put to the former the question, "will you take this woman to be your lawful wife?" "i will," responded george. "will you take this man to be your lawful husband?" "no, i will not," answered cornelia, hysterically. "you will not? what, madam, is the reason of this change of purpose? have you not well considered the matter?" "no, i have not--i have been very rash--i never saw him till yesterday!" "what _temerity_!" exclaimed the clergyman reprovingly, and the door was closed, amid great laughter. when it was re-opened, george was found seated in the centre of the room, under the hands of the doctor, who was examining his eye; while cornelia, with an appearance of great anxiety, held the light. "is it out yet?" "no, doctor: i feel it still--how it hurts!" thereupon the doctor produced a formidable instrument from his pocket, and appeared about to gouge out the eye by way of curing it; and the door was closed amid cries of "eye!" "eye!" "eye!"--quite parliamentary, as charlie said. the second scene disclosed cornelia apparently engaged in household avocations, which were interrupted by a rap at the door. she gave admittance to a man and boy who were peddling tin wares, and there ensued such a sounding of tin-pans, and such a chaffering about tins, that no doubt could exist in the minds of the spectators as to the word. to act out the third syllable, cornelia and george were seated at a table, with lamp and books, when a knock was heard, and a traveller, with carpet-bag and umbrella, entered the room. he had lost his way--he was going to the town of certainty, in the land of theoretical speculation, and wanted some plain directions. "oh, i can tell you exactly how to get there," cried cornelia. "keep along this road, the highway of inquiry, until you find it bends off to the left into the path of metaphysics. the path becomes narrower and more difficult continually, and many side-walks lead off to other spots: one, to the wilderness of atheism; another, to the populous city of thinkasyouplease; still another, to the dangerous bog of alldoubt. but if you follow the right road, you cannot possibly err." "much obliged: i'll try to keep the path." presently, the traveller returned, in a battered condition: he had wandered from the right track; his cloak of philosophical reason had been torn by the briers of difficulty; his feet pierced, through the shoes of intellectual pride, by the sharp stones of suffering: he could not hear of any town of certainty in the whole country of theoretical speculation. "i believe we have all made a mistake," replied george. "we erred in giving you a wrong direction: you erred in following it. certainty is situated in the land of truth: follow this highway of inquiry in the opposite direction, until it leads you to a well-trodden road formed by the juncture of faith and facts; and then you cannot fail to reach certainty. my sister fancy misled you into error." and when the company in the sitting-room cried out "err," "err," the shutting of the door showed they were not mistaken. for the last scene, aunt lucy was called into requisition, and formed the central object of the exhibition. but little wit was required to make, of the whole, the word _itinerant_. "now for a few puzzles and conundrums," cried charlie, "i have one which i think none of you can guess. who are the most immoral of manufacturers? do you give it up?" "i have heard the answer--we could not guess it, as it consists of puns," replied mary. "those who make you _steel_ pens, and then say they do _write_." "here's another. why is the clock the most humble of all things?" "because it covers its face with its hands, and is continually running itself down." "when is it in a passion?" "when it is ready to strike one." "pray, what can be the difference between joan of arc and noah's ark?" "one was made of gopher-wood--the other was maid of orleans." "two persons met in the street, and one of them said, 'i am _your_ son, but you are not _my_ father.' how could that be?" "it could not be, charlie!--how could it?" said lewis. "it might be, if the person happened to be his mother," answered mary, with a laugh. "it is that, of course--how silly we all are!" "my first is on the table, and under the table; my second is a kind of grain; my third and fourth combined, form what the most romantic people cannot well dispense with; and my whole is one of the united states." "let us see--california? no. massachusetts will not do, nor connecticut. oh, i have it: it is _matrimony_--not always a united state, however!" "you think not, ellen? then here is a piece of advice for you, and to make it more emphatic and intelligible, i will write it upon a card." be [a] meddling man family wife. [illustration: word puzzle] "i have it! _eureka_!" cried tom bolton. "be above meddling in a family between man and wife." "why are pens, ink, and paper like the fixed stars?" "they are stationary." "a gentleman visited a prisoner; and, pointing to him, said to the bystanders, "'brothers and sisters have i none; but this man's father was my father's son.' what relationship was there between them?" "a slight one--only that of father and son," answered cornelia. "what glorious fun we have had this week!" cried george. "it will be hard work to go back again to _hic, hæc, hoc_--i wish christmas holidays could come once a week!" "so do not i, much as i love them," replied mr. wyndham, smiling. "it is the alternation of grave and gay, of diligent study and active duty with lively social intercourse, which will make you complete men and women. i would not have you to be mere drudges, in the most useful work; nor book-worms at home, only in the library, and unfit for mingling with your fellow-men. but much less would i like to see you triflers--butterflies--living only for amusement. i hope you will become earnest men and women: choosing great and good aims in life, and working your way upward continually to greater usefulness, and to a higher moral elevation. but amusement is not wasted time: it may be so indulged as to be improving to the wits, and never to transgress the line of innocency. i have often felt the benefit of a hearty laugh, when my brain has been overtasked: it is recreation, in the strict meaning of the term--it gives new life to the exhausted spirits. yes, i approve of entertainment, in its place." "so do i, heartily, my dear sir!" chimed in cornelia. "and its place is everywhere, i think. i never heard uncle make so long a speech before!" "beware, or i will punish you by making another!" replied mr. wyndham, drawing the mischievous girl towards him. "but i have news for you all, which i think will scarcely disturb your slumbers. i received a note this afternoon, informing me that the united wisdom of your parents had concluded to prolong your holiday by one day; and so your 'week's delight,' as amy calls it, must be counted by long measure--a week and a day." "glorious!" cried george. "let's pack the day as full of fun as ever it will hold. i never shall forget the jolly time we have had this year at the grange!" "not even the ice-bath at the pond, george?" said cornelia. "no, indeed; nor my kind deliverance; nor my brave rescuer," answered george. "that might, indeed, have turned our laughter into weeping," replied mr. wyndham, lighting his lamp. "and now, good-night, and happy dreams!" chapter x. whispering gallery.--potentates.--three young men. the last day at the grange had come, and well was it filled up with active exercise and sport, song, laughter, and sweet converse. in the evening all met as usual in the library, eager for whatever amusement might turn up; for everything was _impromptu_ among our young people, and, whether story, games, or conversation, had at least the merit of spontaneity. "i have a thought," said alice. "there is a game i would call 'gossip, or whispering gallery,' which can take in the whole of us, and possibly take us all in, in a double sense. let aunt lucy sit in one corner of the room, and uncle john in another; and we young folks can range ourselves between. aunty can say anything she pleases in a low whisper to her next neighbor, only she must be careful to name some one; and he must repeat it to a third, and so through the line. the last person must announce distinctly what the whisper was, and settle any differences with aunt lucy, who originates the whisper." "very good," replied mrs. wyndham. "only it is evident to me that i am going to be victimized!" "o, you can stand it; you can stand it!" cried out several young voices. "your character for truth and prudence is established; and with uncle john at the other end of the line, you need not fear!" and so the company was arranged, and care taken that no ear heard the "gossip," save the one for which it was designed. the mysterious message was at last announced, amid laughter and shouts from the youngest. "aunt lucy says that cornelia told her that charlie reported that john had eaten ten slices of mince-pie to-day. he is very sick, and i'll send him home to his mother." "but i only said, 'cornelia and charlie both told me john hadn't eaten one slice of mince-pie to-day. i'm afraid he is sick, and it is well he is going home to his mother!' "rather a difference! but who altered it? it seems to me cornelia looks mischievous!" "o, that's a way i have! poor little me, all the mischief is put on my shoulders! but--honest now--tom whispered so low, that i thought it might as well be ten slices as one!" "and now change places," said alice, "and put cornelia head as a reward of merit--we'll fix her; and then we can try 'whispering gallery' again." no sooner said than done, and cornelia started the game by saying to her nearest neighbor, "how sorry i am to leave the grange! i never was so happy in all my life; and charlie says so too!" but the outcome of this very innocent remark was as follows: "how sorry i am i came to the grange! i never will be happy again in all my life, and charlie says so, too!" "are you sure there was no cheating?" asked mr. wyndham. "no, dear uncle, impossible," replied cornelia. "i couldn't, and they wouldn't; they are all quite too good for that; every one of them, except, perhaps, charlie, who is in a peculiar sense my own first cousin. but it seems to be a property of a whisper to be a _twister_; it is sure to get in a tangle, and comes out quite different from the way you started it." "just so," answered up charlie. "it is like what they say happens in cincinnati. you put in a grunter at one end of the machine, and in a few minutes it comes out in the form of bacon, hams, lard, sausages, and hair-brushes!" "my dear charlie," chimed in his uncle, "that is the loudest 'whisper' i've heard yet! but, seriously, boys and girls, don't you see in the game how evil reports originate, and how easy it is, by the slightest variation from the straight line, to falsify the truth?" "that's so," said mary. "and i have often noticed how whispers glide into gossip, and gossip into scandal, before people are aware. i've resolved many a time not to talk about _people_, but things, and then i'll escape doing harm with my unruly member." "i, too," said charlie, demurely, "have frequently written in my copy-book, 'speak not of the absent, or speak as a friend.'" "now for another game," cried gertrude. "here is one of mine. i call it 'potentates.' it's very simple, and you can vary it according to your taste. you visit a foreign country, and see the rulers and grandees; you can mention their names or not, as you wish. i'll begin, to show one way of playing it. "i went to england and was presented at court. i had a superb dress made for the occasion, which i will not describe, as i see the boys are all ready to laugh. but my father had to wear a special drawing-room suit for the presentation, also, and he looked as funny and quaint as if he had stepped out of an old picture. his sword hung at his side, and he had to practice walking with it, and bowing over it, or it would have played him a trick. it was worse than my long train. "when my turn came to be presented and the lord chamberlain announced my name, i felt like sinking into the ground; but i didn't. i think the dignity of my grand dress supported me. somehow i reached the throne, where sat in state victoria, queen of great britain and ireland, empress of india, defender of the faith, etc. on either side were princesses of the blood, ladies of honor, and others according to rank. i had seen my predecessors kneel before her majesty, so i had to put my democratic feelings into my pocket and do the same. i made believe to myself that i knelt because she is a pattern woman, is the best queen england ever had, and is old enough to be my grandmother, having reigned fifty years. she graciously extended her hand. i did not shake it, as report says one fair american savage did, but humbly kissed it, and then retreated backward with eyes still fixed upon the queen in all her glory, and scarcely knowing which gave me the most trouble, my long train or my wounded self-respect. "i afterwards saw the prince and princess of wales, the archbishop of canterbury, dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies--a brilliant constellation. but i very much doubt if they saw me. and these are the potentates of old england." "as for me," said charlie bolton, "i saw the dey of algiers, and a very brilliant dey he was! by way of contrast, i determined to visit the knights of malta, but on inquiry found that they had not been in existence for nearly ninety years, and therefore gave it up. instead i concluded to see the knights of labor, who abound in this favored land, and appear to be potentates, as they can stop railroad travel, mines, manufactories, etc., at their own sweet will." "as charlie was in north africa," remarked john, "i went to egypt to be in his neighborhood, and had the privilege of seeing the khedive. i found the country quite demoralized, the finances in a very bad condition, and few appeared to know who was the real potentate of the land, the khedive, the sultan of turkey, or the money kings of england. general gordon had been murdered, and el mahdi, the false prophet, was dead also. those two men were the greatest potentates africa has had for centuries!" "and i crossed over into turkey," continued tom green, "and had an audience with the sultan. i saw numerous pashas in attendance of one, two, and three tails." "o, tom!" cried gertrude, "that can't be! even darwin doesn't claim that for man in the nineteenth century!" "my dear young friend," answered tom, "these tails were not carried monkey-fashion, but were insignia of office, the man having three tails holding the highest rank. they are of horse-hair, placed on a long staff with a gilt ball on top, and are always carried before the pasha on his military expeditions. always ask for information," said he, bowing to the circle, "and i shall be happy to impart such as is suitable to juvenile minds!" "very condescending!" "deeply interesting!" "just from college, isn't he?" were some of the remarks of the girls. "the grand vizier presented me," continued tom. "we had a good deal of pleasant conversation together, the sultan and i; and i tried to convince him that the republican form of government was the best. strange to say, my eloquence failed in effect. but he was very friendly, and asked me to stay to tea, and he'd introduce me to his little family--" "tom! tom!" cried several voices, "do keep probability in view." "i declined, of course, even at the risk of hurting his feelings. _i_ don't want to see women with thick veils on; some may think it romantic--i know alice does, for it is so mysterious--but _i_ think it looks as if they were marked with small-pox! just then, the muezzin sounded for prayers from the nearest minaret, and the sultan instantly fell prostrate on his rich turkish rug, and began his devotions. he was just saying, 'do come, tom, for'--but he stopped in the midst, and i'll never know what strong inducement he was going to offer; perhaps he wanted me to be grand vizier. i slipped out while he was at his prayers." "o tom, tom!" cried john. "i didn't think you could draw so long a bow!" "it is quite understood that we are indulging in fiction," replied he. "you know that falsehood consists in the _intent to deceive_. no one will be taken in by my yarns, dear coz!" "nor mine, either," said cornelia. "for i was in paris before the french revolution, at the same time as our philosopher, benjamin franklin. i was present at court on a grand occasion. the king, louis sixteenth, a handsome and amiable monarch, and the beautiful and graceful queen, marie antoinette, were there of course; the young dauphin was, i hope, sound asleep. the ladies of the court were brilliant, and everything as gay as gay could be. but to my surprise, our plain, simple republican dr. franklin was the central object, the 'cynosure of all beholders.' the king was quite secondary. philosophy was then quite the rage, and republican simplicity--in the abstract--was adored by these potentates. one of the grand, gay ladies crowned franklin with a wreath of flowers! and he was wonderfully pleased with all the attention he received, i assure you. it was a different scene from any in the philadelphia of those days--with our staid citizens, and sweet, gentle, modest quaker ladies in their plain dress!" "and now," said amy, "aren't you all tired of potentates? i am. this is our last evening, and i want dear uncle to tell us a story--something from his own life, if he will--to finish up our pleasures." "it would finish up your pleasures by putting you to sleep," mr. wyndham answered, laughing gayly. "mine has been an unusually happy life, but not an adventurous one. i was never even in a railroad collision. do you remember the story of dr. samuel johnson, when writing his 'lives of the poets'?" "do tell us, uncle," chimed in the young voices. "he was trying to get information in a certain case, but could not elicit anything of interest. at last, out of patience, he burst forth: 'tell me, didn't he break his leg?' i never broke mine; i can't get up an incident." "and i'm very glad you didn't, uncle mine," said little amy. "and now i speak by permission in the name of the assembled company: you are unanimously requested to tell us your life, or something that happened to yourself." "'story! why, bless you, i have none to tell, sir,' as canning's needy knife-grinder says. but if you all insist, as a good uncle, i must e'en obey; so prepare for those comfortable slumbers i have predicted. i will call my story three young men. "now you must not expect from me," said mr. wyndham, "exciting tales of adventure, and hairbreadth escapes by sea and land. i have never read a dime novel in my life, and therefore couldn't undertake to rival them in highway robbery, scalping indians, and bowie-knives and revolvers. my heroes were never left on a desert island, nor escaped with difficulty from the hands of cannibals, nor were pursued by hungry wolves; and never even saw a lion or tiger except behind the bars of a menagerie. they were not strikingly handsome nor charmingly hideous, nor had they rich uncles to die opportunely and leave them heirs to a few millions; indeed, they were very much such young men as you see every day walking the streets of your own city. "i would gladly leave my name entirely out of the story if i could; but as it is an 'o'er true tale,' and i happened to be mixed up with the other two, whom i have known from childhood, i am very sure my dear nephews and nieces will not accuse me of egotism. it is the other two who are my heroes--not myself. "john howard and mortimer willing were my schoolmates, in the same class for years, neighbors and playfellows, so that i know them well. and i speak of them the more freely because they are now both living at a great distance from here, one being the honored governor of a western state, and the other residing in a remote town in the interior of texas. such are the changes in our land of freedom. "but to begin with our school-days. we had not a genius in the class, neither had we a dunce; we were average boys, digging our way through the classics and mathematics, and not too familiar with science, history and geography. the world we live in was not much studied then. such minor knowledge we were somehow expected to pick up at home, and we did after a fashion. i liked both these boys; but while willing was the more self-possessed, showy and brilliant, i always felt howard to be the most true; he was the very soul of honor, as transparent as glass without a flaw in it. willing did things with a dash, and by his superior tact and ready language often appeared to know more than he really did. if he got into a scrape he was pretty sure to get out of it smoothly. "i have sometimes known him, for example, to go unprepared to a recitation, depending upon his luck not to be called upon to recite, when, with his ready wit and retentive memory, he would gather up what it required hard study for the rest of us to put into our craniums. but it sometimes happened that dame fortune, wicked jade! forsook him, and willing had to march up, as we thought, to certain disgrace. but whatever forsook him, one thing never did--invincible assurance. he would bear himself in so composed a manner, talk round the subject so ably, and bring what little he knew so prominently forward, that the professor himself was often deceived, and was sometimes entrapped into telling the very thing willing most wanted to know. "if any side-helps were given by sympathizing friends--for willing was a general favorite--he availed himself of them without scruple. i remember the question was once put to him, 'what is the latin name of the earth?' any boy surely should know that; but for once his memory failed him. he nudged the boy next him, saying in a stage whisper, 'tell us.' the teacher's ears were quick, and his wit also; he answered, with a quizzical look--before the boy could speak--'that's right, tellus is one of the names; but you should direct your answer to the desk, and not to your neighbor.' "in composition he was sometimes brilliant, but not always sustained or original, for i have more than once detected a striking likeness to addison and other well-known worthies of our english tongue. evidently the same muse inspired both, for in style and sentiment they were identical; but unfortunately for willing, they had the advantage in point of time, and made their mark in the world before he came along. the wonder to me was that the teacher did not see it; but his was not a wide range of scholarship, though thorough in what he taught. his groove was narrow but deep and well worn, i felt indignant when i heard willing praised for what should have brought him disgrace; but he was so pleasant and ready to oblige, such a good companion and playfellow, that i soon forgot my righteous anger--until next time. "another trick of his i could not like. possibly my young friends may have seen the same; for schoolboy failings are very similar throughout the ages. i don't doubt school-children cheated before the flood! they certainly have done so since. he sat at the same desk with honest jack howard, the most unsuspicious of mortals because himself so free from guile. many a time have i seen him slyly glance at howard's slate when we were solving hard problems in arithmetic or algebra. they were sure to come out even, neck and neck, as they say. but _i_ knew that if willing had been called upon to explain the process he couldn't have done it; and he was sure to get the praise. "as for howard, he plodded on, never getting all the appreciation he deserved. always prepared, but not always ready--for he was easily abashed, and then his tongue did not do justice to his thoughts. no fellow in the class--or, as we then said, no _man_ in the class--was so thorough as he, but the teachers did not always find it out. we boys did, however; and we knew, too, that what jack howard once got he kept, in the way of mental acquisition. but the best of it was, he was such a solid fellow as to worth. his word was never doubted; we could trust him in everything. '_falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus_,' holds true, and the converse is also true, faithful in one, faithful in all. howard was true and faithful from the time i first knew him, a little shaver, 'knee-high to a grasshopper,' as children say. "i'm the more particular in giving you an insight into the character of these boys as a key to their after-life. i know that the child is not always 'father to the man,' and that the insertion of a new and transforming principle into the soul will elevate and ennoble the meanest man. but as a general rule the mainsprings of character develop early, and the man is very much as the child has made him. the sowing then, brings forth a harvest afterwards. they tell us, that two natives of scotland settled in the far west, and that each took with him a memorial of his fatherland--one the thistle, the national emblem, the other the honey-bee. rather different sowing that! for while the dwellers on the pacific coast have to keep up a continual fight with the thistle, the honey of that region is now largely exported, and is worth its millions. a little time has done it--and thistles are especially prolific, you need take no pains in the sowing. "but we didn't think much of sowing and reaping in those days, though we were sowing all the time. the years flew fast till we had seen seventeen birthdays, and our fathers thought we should learn something of business if we were ever to be business men. willing had influential connections, excellent abilities, and popular manners; he was a general favorite. he was placed without difficulty in a large importing house, where he gave entire satisfaction, and was rapidly advanced to a position of great trust, collecting moneys and keeping the accounts. his salary was large, and he was considered a rising and prosperous young man; he moved in fashionable society, married a dashing girl, lived in a handsome house, gave elegant entertainments, and kept a horse. "howard and i got on more slowly. somehow, we always kept together, so that 'the two johns' became a by-word. we were clerks in the same commercial house, and, although self-praise is no recommendation, i may say that both of us did our whole duty. we worked hard, as was then expected; were at the store soon after sunrise, and had everything in order before our employers arrived. young gentlemen in those days did many things that are now the porter's work, making fires, sweeping the store, etc., quite new duties to us, who were fresh from academic shades, and from communion with homer, virgil, and horace. i can't say we enjoyed it much. neither did we like the lifting of heavy packages and being ordered about as if we were inferiors. but we did not shirk our duty, and kept our tempers. john, good fellow, came out of the ordeal sweet-tempered, kind, and obliging; and i don't doubt that we both feel the benefit of this practical training to this day. certain it is, that we mastered all the details of the business, and knew what to expect from others, when our time came to employ them. "'the two johns' went into business together, and for a time everything was prosperous. we married happily, and lived in comfort and moderation, as becomes young people who have to make their way in the world. meantime we saw less and less of willing, for in the daytime we were busy, and our evenings were very differently employed. he and his young wife--a pretty and attractive creature she was--cultivated the society of the gay and rich, gave entertainments, or were seen in full dress at balls, concerts, the opera, and the theatre. i sometimes wondered how a clerk on a three-thousand-dollar salary could live at the rate of eight or ten thousand. and so, with all kind feeling, we drifted apart; your dear aunt and john's wife found their style of living so different, ideas on all subjects so opposite, and friends so dissimilar, that visits were only exchanged once or twice a year. "when we were about thirty, commercial disasters befel us. a financial crisis swept over the land, by which some houses closely connected with our own were engulfed, and could not meet their engagements. we lost heavily. we struggled through it for a time, but were compelled at last to call a meeting of our creditors, lay our statements and books before them, and offer to give up all we had to satisfy their claims. that was the best we could do, and we then could not pay more than fifty cents on the dollar. "our creditors behaved most nobly and generously. they expressed the utmost confidence in our integrity and business skill, uttered no word of blame but much of encouragement, and begged us to go on and retrieve our fortunes. they settled upon fifty cents in the dollar as full satisfaction for our debts, and told us to take our own time for the payment; nothing could have been kinder and more considerate. for my part, knowing we were not to blame, i bore up bravely till that point; but there i broke down. i am not ashamed to say, that i wept like a child. "howard was the bookkeeper of our house, and a beautiful set of books he kept. the accounts were exact, the writing clear, the figures unmistakable--not a blot or erasure in the whole. they excited great admiration, and from none more than from stewart & gamble, who were prominent creditors. after the meeting, they invited howard to look over their books in the evening, remarking that although they had all confidence in their head clerk, their receipts had fallen off considerably of late, and as they wished to understand the reason, they had concluded to get the services of an expert, which howard certainly was. john accepted the offer, although he looked grave when he remembered that willing had been head clerk for years. "as our business perplexity was now comparatively settled, we went on as usual, only taking in sail and trimming the boat for the storm. but in our private affairs both families resolved to retrench. our wives came nobly to our support, proving themselves true women; they themselves proposed to _double-up_--the two families to occupy one house, and in several ways to reduce our expenses one-half. such an arrangement would never have answered if we had not all thoroughly understood one another--but we did. my wife is, as you all very well know, a model of amiability and of every household virtue, and the other john thinks as well of his rib, and i suppose is right. the old saying is, 'if a man wishes to be rich let him ask his wife;' i can add, if a man wishes to be honest and pay his debts, let him ask her counsel, aid and coöperation also. we were determined to be honest; and our good wives helped us in this effort with all their might. "how they managed it you can't expect a man to explain--it is a problem too deep for our limited intelligence--but certain it is, that while we always sat down to a plentiful table and maintained a respectable appearance, what had supported one family now answered for two. i don't think our wives were reduced to the straits of the irish family, whose little boy reported to his schoolmates: 'there's a great twisting and turning going on at our house. i'm having a new shirt made out of daddy's old one, and daddy's having a new shirt made out of the old sheet, and mammy's making a new sheet out of the old table-cloth.' but 'twistings and turnings' of a marvellous kind there must have been, which the male understanding could not fathom; for while the house was always in order, and the two ladies looked as neat as if they had just stepped out of a bandbox, no bills came in, and a little money went a great way. "one word more about this very practical thing of expense in living. we could have lived on as we had done, and no blame from any one, for we were in no respect extravagant; but we could not reconcile it to our consciences to spend a penny without necessity when we owed money. all four thought alike about that; we were thankful for health, and that we could provide the comforts of life for our young families. as you know, our dear children were then living. and i may here add, that both john and i lived to see the solid benefits accruing from the ten years of strict economy and active work in which all shared. our boys and girls learned betimes to help themselves and one another, and were invaluable aids to their mothers. the lessons of self-denial were not lost upon them. they attended the public schools and received a solid education there; but the languages were picked up at home, and thoroughly, too. it is astonishing how much can be learned by devoting a short time every day to any study when the heart is in it; and i found that the boys were prepared for college, when our ten years were up, and we were able to spend more freely. "but meanwhile, what about willing, and the very mixed accounts of stewart & gamble? alas, alas! how happy was our lot compared with his! we had cheerful content, hope for the future, peace in our consciences. we were respected by those around us, and by the business world, never more so than then. but poor willing! "howard found it as we had feared. there were inconsistencies between the debtor and creditor columns, increasing with each successive year; and the effort had been made to cover them up by the alteration of figures so as to appear square and correct. howard knew too much of prices to be deceived by these, being in the same business. the aggregate stealings--for it was nothing else--amounted to $ , ! and this was the payment the firm received for their liberal kindness and their blind confidence! "when all was discovered, and willing's guilt clearly proved, he was summoned to meet his injured employers. he must have gone with quakings of heart: but not even then did his cool assurance fail him, or the blush rise to his cheek, until he was made conscious that all his trickery was understood, and that public exposure and the penitentiary were before him. then he gave way, and confessed all. he had not, in the beginning, planned deliberate villany--very few ever do who have been brought up to know the right. but the temptations to extravagance had proved too much for him, and his principles, never strong, had given way. he had taken two hundred dollars, intending to return it from his salary, and none should be the wiser. but fast living is a deceitful thing--almost as deceitful as the human heart. bills came in fast--store bills, butchers' bills, carriage bills, confectionery bills, milliners' bills--swallowing up his quarter's salary; and one must have ready money, you know; so instead of returning what he had taken, as hope had whispered, he took more--still to be repaid in the future. "i need hardly say, that each time he yielded to temptation the resistance of his conscience became less and less, until finally it appeared to be paralyzed. he had woven the toils about himself until he seemed powerless to escape; no chrysalis, apparently lifeless in its silky shroud, was feebler than he. he was strong to do evil but weak to do good. everything conspired to push him down hill--circumstances were against him, he thought--but one thing was certain, he must have money, and then all would be right. "but how to break the meshes? how to retrieve himself? one way only was clear to him--speculation in stocks, and on a margin; he could borrow money for that, for he would be sure to repay. _borrowing_ was now the convenient name he applied to his stealing. he tried it, and at first succeeded; the deluded victims of all gambling, whether in the exchange or in gambling hells, are pretty sure of success at first; and so they are enticed to higher ventures. now he might have returned the ill-gotten money, and at least have saved his reputation. but no! the gambling passion was now aroused, and he felt sure he could soon realize enough to make him easy. he tried again and for a larger sum and _lost_. "and so he went on until he was tangled inextricably in the net, and felt that he was a rascal, and a lost, not a successful one. remorse seized him, but not repentance; for still he went on in his guilt. indeed, he was more reckless than ever, struggling to get out of the meshes. gay to excess at times, then gloomy; his temper became unequal, and to drown reflection he sometimes drank to excess. he was a ruined man--ruined _before_ exposure, for that only opened the eyes of others--his own down-fall had already taken place. "i am told that when the proofs of his guilt were laid before him, and his confession was made, his pleadings for mercy were most pitiful. stewart & gamble had a stern sense of justice, and their indignation was in proportion to their former confidence. they were determined that he should not escape, and that, not so much from personal vengeance as because they thought it wrong to interfere with laws due and wholesome in themselves, and necessary to deter others from evil doing. he was committed to prison, a trial took place, and poor willing was sentenced to five years in the penitentiary. "when he first stood up for trial, he was alone; all the friends of his prosperity had forsaken him. he was thoroughly stricken down, abashed, shame-faced, not lifting his eyes to the crowd in court; and no one of his intimates care to claim acquaintance with a felon. i could not hold back; much as i hated the crime, i could not hate the criminal. my schoolmate, my playfellow, stood there, alone, forsaken, despised; crushed to the ground, ready to despair. i went to him, gave my hand and stayed, while his case was up. never shall i forget the look of mingled gratitude and hopelessness in his haggard eyes which had scarcely known sleep since his disgrace. "o, it is well to be just! no doubt of that. the law should be sustained, and no sentimental pity should interfere. we must not condone crime, or the very object of law and penalty will be annulled. philanthropy should be tender, but not weak; and if tears are shed and bouquets of flowers sent, it should rather be to the victims of crime, than to the criminal. but when a man is crushed with a sense of guilt, and down on the ground, that is not the time to spurn him; when disgrace is added to trouble, friends must not stand aloof. many a poor fellow is driven to suicide by this course who might have been saved by kindness and brought to repentance. "willing's dashing friends, by whose example he had been helped in the downward career, who had eaten his dainty little suppers and enjoyed his society, now forsook him and held up their hands in horror at his conduct--it was so disreputable! i may be wrong, but i can't help despising men and women who share a poor fellow's prosperity and fall off in his adversity; giving an additional kick, if need be, to send him down the hill. of all his gay companions not one stood by him on his trial, or said one word of pity, hope, or cheer, when he was condemned. the friendship of the world is a hollow thing, more unsubstantial than a bubble. it seems to me that nothing is so hardening to the heart as self-indulgence, luxurious living, idleness, the absence of any high aim in life, or any earnest effort for the life beyond. certain it is the summer friends all vanished; their friendship wilted like flowers before a frost. "that was the time for howard and me to act like men. we were busy, very busy, but we took turns to stand by him, and show that we had not forgotten 'auld lang syne' and boyish days. poor fellow! he wept then. well did he know that we would be the last to extenuate his crime, but he saw that we pitied him while we condemned his sin. he spoke the first words of genuine repentance, or what looked like it, then and there. "after his condemnation, when immured in prison walls, dressed in convict garb, and fed on prison fare, we visited him whenever the rules allowed it. we found him quite broken up--thoroughly humiliated, ready to despair of god's mercy as well as man's forgiveness. he was in the depths of trial, all the waves and the billows had gone over him, the deeps had swallowed him up, as the psalmist poetically and truly says. we could not in conscience say one word that might lessen the weight of his guilt, but we could point him to the lamb of god that taketh away the sin not of one only, but of the whole world. we could tell him that christ came, not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance, to which he promptly added, and from the heart, 'of whom i am chief.' "calamity, sorrow, reverses and all the punishments due to iniquity, can never be relied upon to bring men to repentance; but in this case they worked well, and willing became a new man. it was a great pleasure to us to see the change in his very countenance, wrought out by the inward principle, and that his sorrow, as time went on, was not so much for his punishment and disgrace as for his guilt. he made no effort to get a commutation of his sentence, saying, it was all right; he had deserved that and much more. "of course our pity was much excited for his poor little wife, who seemed almost heart-broken. my dear lucy and john's wife, who had never cultivated intimacy with her in their prosperous days, now came forward in true womanly style, and made her feel that she had sisters in heart, whom she had not known. she had no near kindred, and the few relatives she had held aloof. truly she might say, 'my lovers and my friends stand aloof from my sore; and my kinsmen stand afar off.' no one offered her help or shelter, of all those who had enjoyed her elegant hospitality. "immediately upon the conviction of her husband she wrote to stewart & gamble, offering to give up all her handsome furniture and pictures, and even her jewels, as a small indemnity for their losses; but they very nobly refused to accept it, advising her to sell and invest the proceeds. john and i, acting under the direction of our wives, who were enthusiastic in their admiration and pity for olive willing in her trouble, told her to pack her trunks at once and come to our house, where we had room enough and to spare, and that we would attend to the sale. she could scarcely believe she heard aright, and was full of surprise and gratitude, and, of course, accepted the offer. "i don't wonder you think our house was made of gum-elastic; it really seemed so. 'room in the heart, room in the house," was our motto; and the children most amiably agreed to give up one room and be sociable together; and i fancy they were, from the peals of laughter that often came from that room, so full of young life and spirits. and so poor olive was settled down as one of the family. it was a new experience to her in every way. the industry of the house surprised her, and from gratitude and a proper ambition she soon sought to help, which really was the best thing she could do to relieve her trouble, and regain a measure of cheerfulness. but she had to learn first, and found two willing teachers in the noble women who had given her a home. she was an apt scholar and soon became mistress of domestic arts, which were indispensable to her in after life. indeed, what woman should be ignorant of them, if she wishes to be helpful to herself and useful to others? who would wish to be considered a mere ornamental piece of bric à brac, good to be set upon the mantel or against the wall, but not good for everyday use and comfort? better be an eight-day clock, for that at least will regulate the goings of the household! "in these new employments and in our happy home circle olive in a few months recovered something of her wonted tone. she then formed the plan of putting her hitherto useless accomplishments to work, by taking pupils in music, drawing, and embroidery. we all approved her plan, and lucy found pupils for her among our friends--not among those who had cast her off. this supplied her with ready money, and with a little increase to the sum john and i had safely invested for her. "when his five years were accomplished, and willing was notified that he was once more a free man, we were there to receive him, and conduct him to our house. he entered it, a wiser and a sadder man. we had formed a plan for him into which he and his wife heartily entered, and had already written to correspondents in texas, to obtain information as to localities for settlement. after a week's rest willing and olive left us for their distant home, where they were soon at home on a small ranche stocked with sheep--the whole paid for by the modest sum held in olive's name. they did well and are much respected. he has been able to enlarge his operations, and is now a thriving man; and what is far better, he is upright, honest; always on the right side; fearing god, and having favor with those who know him. "but to return to ourselves. we persevered in a strict course of industry and economy, declining help proffered from outside sources. my dear grandfather, who had brought me up after my father's death, was very kind in offering financial aid; but i did not wish to involve any one in my misfortunes, or to cause embarrassment to one i so greatly loved. besides, i felt confident that we should retrieve our affairs by our own efforts. so it proved. eight years to a day from the time we attempted to make our assignment to our generous creditors we paid them, not fifty cents on the dollar, but one hundred, with compound interest. it was a glad surprise to them, but a much greater joy to us. o, boys! better it is to step forth clear of debt; to be able to look every man in the eye; to feel that you owe no man anything, than to own the mines of california, arizona, or the whole of a pacific railroad! i cannot describe to you the exquisite pleasure it gave us to pay out that money. those who have never experienced losses and embarrassments can scarcely understand it. "we now had a fresh start in business, with a good stock on hand, boundless credit, and no debts. we soon came to the front rank among merchants. indeed, so successful were we, that on my fiftieth birthday i resolved to retire, feeling that i was rich enough. my dear grandfather, who had entered into rest some years before, had left me the grange, in which my earliest years had been passed, and here, amid the beautiful scenes of nature, and with still a large scope for my activities, i have enjoyed years of happiness. my dear friend, howard, had landed property in one of the western states and fancied there was more elbow-room there for his children who were settling in life; so at last we were obliged to separate. he has risen, as you know, to prominence, being the most popular governor of the state they have had for years, and even political opponents are loud in praise of his integrity and fidelity to trusts. "i need scarcely say a word to show the meaning of my simple tale. a life of unspotted integrity and honor is the only life worth living; and to love god and keep his commandments is the only safeguard. you may have a good disposition, but that is not enough. you may have been well trained and instructed, but that is not enough. your father may be the very soul of honor and to be trusted with uncounted gold, but virtue is not an inheritance, and you must be honest for yourself, self-denying for yourself, diligent for yourself, if you wish to build up a character respected by men and pleasing to god. 'tis true, this is only one part of your duty, but it is a very important part. truth and rectitude are pillars in family life, and the very bulwarks of society. if these fail, all else fails. "and now, a pleasant and a dreamless sleep to you all. to-morrow you return to the studies and duties of the new year, which has begun so happily for us all. i dislike to say that word, farewell, and so i will only wish you now, good-night!" file was produced from scans of public domain material produced by microsoft for their live search books site.) [illustration: see p. "all the fellows came round and asked him what he was going to do now"] the flight of pony baker a boy's town story by w.d. howells author of "a boy's town" "christmas every day" etc. illustrated new york and london harper & brothers books by w.d. howells annie kilburn. mo. april hopes. mo. between the dark and daylight. new edition. mo. boy life. illustrated. mo. boy's town. illustrated. post vo. certain delightful english towns. illustrated. vo. traveller's edition, leather. christmas every day, and other stories. illustrated. mo. holiday edition. illustrated. to. coast of bohemia. illustrated. mo. criticism and fiction. portrait. mo. day of their wedding. illustrated. mo. familiar spanish travels. illustrated. vo. fennel and rue. illustrated. new edition. mo. flight of pony baker. post vo. hazard of new fortunes. new edition. mo. heroines of fiction. illustrated. vols. vo. imaginary interviews. vo. imperative duty. mo. paper. impressions and experiences. new edition. mo. kentons. mo. landlord at lion's head. illustrated. new edition. mo. letters home. mo. library of universal adventure. illustrated. vo, cloth. three-quarter calf. literary friends and acquaintance. illustrated. vo. literature and life. vo. little swiss sojourn. illustrated. mo. london films. illustrated. vo. traveller's edition, leather. miss bellard's inspiration. mo. modern italian poets. illustrated. mo. mother and the father. illustrated. new edition. mo. mouse-trap, a likely story, the garroters, five-o'clock tea. illustrated. new edition. mo. my literary passions. new edition. mo. my mark twain. illustrated. vo. my year in a log cabin. illustrated. mo. open-eyed conspiracy. mo. pair of patient lovers. mo. parting and a meeting. illustrated. square mo. quality of mercy. new edition. mo. questionable shapes. ill'd. mo. ragged lady. illustrated. new edition. mo. roman holidays. illustrated. vo. traveller's edition, leather. seven english cities. illustrated. vo. traveller's edition, leather. shadow of a dream. mo. son of royal langbrith. vo. stops of various quills. illustrated. to. limited edition. story of a play. mo. the seen and unseen at stratford-on-avon. crown vo. their silver wedding journey. illustrated. vols. crown vo. in vol. new edition. mo. through the eye of a needle. new edition. mo. traveller from altruria. new edition. mo. world of chance. mo. farces: a letter of introduction. illustrated. mo. a likely story. illustrated. mo. a previous engagement. mo. paper. evening dress. illustrated. mo. five-o'clock tea. illustrated. mo. parting friends. illustrated. mo. the albany depot. illustrated. mo. the garroters. illustrated. mo. the mouse-trap. illustrated. mo. the unexpected guests. illustrated. mo. harper & brothers, publishers, new york copyright, , by harper & brothers. published september, . _contents_ chap. page i. pony's mother, and why he had a right to run off ii. the right that pony had to run off, from the way his father acted iii. jim leonard's hair-breadth escape iv. the scrape that jim leonard got the boys into v. about running away to the indian reservation on a canal-boat, and how the plan failed vi. how the indians came to the boy's town and jim leonard acted the coward vii. how frank baker spent the fourth at pawpaw bottom, and saw the fourth of july boy viii. how pony baker came pretty near running off with a circus ix. how pony did not quite get off with the circus x. the adventures that pony's cousin, frank baker, had with a pocketful of money xi. how jim leonard planned for pony baker to run off on a raft xii. how jim leonard backed out, and pony had to give it up _illustrations_ "all the fellows came round and asked him what he was going to do now" _frontispiece_ "being dressed so well was one of the worst things that was done to him by his mother" "'i'll learn that limb to sleep in a cow-barn!' "real indians, in blankets, with bows and arrows" "very smiling-looking" "he began being cold and stiff with her the very next morning" "frank baker was one of those fellows that every mother would feel her boy was safe with" "'why, you ain't afraid, are you, pony?'" _the flight of pony baker_ _the flight of pony baker_ i pony's mother, and why he had a right to run off if there was any fellow in the boy's town fifty years ago who had a good reason to run off it was pony baker. pony was not his real name; it was what the boys called him, because there were so many fellows who had to be told apart, as big joe and little joe, and big john and little john, and big bill and little bill, that they got tired of telling boys apart that way; and after one of the boys called him pony baker, so that you could know him from his cousin frank baker, nobody ever called him anything else. you would have known pony from the other frank baker, anyway, if you had seen them together, for the other frank baker was a tall, lank, tow-headed boy, with a face so full of freckles that you could not have put a pin-point between them, and large, bony hands that came a long way out of his coat-sleeves; and the frank baker that i mean here was little and dark and round, with a thick crop of black hair on his nice head; and he had black eyes, and a smooth, swarthy face, without a freckle on it. he was pretty well dressed in clothes that fitted him, and his hands were small and plump. his legs were rather short, and he walked and ran with quick, nipping steps, just like a pony; and you would have thought of a pony when you looked at him, even if that had not been his nickname. [illustration: "being dressed so well was one of the worst things that was done to him by his mother"] that very thing of his being dressed so well was one of the worst things that was done to him by his mother, who was always disgracing him before the other boys, though she may not have known it. she never was willing to have him go barefoot, and if she could she would have kept his shoes on him the whole summer; as it was, she did keep them on till all the other boys had been barefoot so long that their soles were as hard as horn; and they could walk on broken glass, or anything, and had stumped the nails off their big toes, and had grass cuts under their little ones, and yarn tied into them, before pony baker was allowed to take his shoes off in the spring. he would have taken them off and gone barefoot without his mother's knowing it, and many of the boys said that he ought to do it; but then she would have found it out by the look of his feet when he went to bed, and maybe told his father about it. very likely his father would not have cared so much; sometimes he would ask pony's mother why she did not turn the boy barefoot with the other boys, and then she would ask pony's father if he wanted the child to take his death of cold; and that would hush him up, for pony once had a little brother that died. pony had nothing but sisters, after that, and this was another thing that kept him from having a fair chance with the other fellows. his mother wanted him to play with his sisters, and she did not care, or else she did not know, that a girl-boy was about the meanest thing there was, and that if you played with girls you could not help being a girl-boy. pony liked to play with his sisters well enough when there were no boys around, but when there were his mother did not act as if she could not see any difference. the girls themselves were not so bad, and they often coaxed their mother to let him go off with the other boys, when she would not have let him without. but even then, if it was going in swimming, or fishing, or skating before the ice was very thick, she would show that she thought he was too little to take care of himself, and would make some big boy promise that he would look after pony; and all the time pony would be gritting his teeth, he was so mad. once, when pony stayed in swimming all day with a crowd of fellows, she did about the worst thing she ever did; she came down to the river-bank and stood there, and called to the boys, to find out if pony was with them; and they all had to get into the water up to their necks before they could bear to answer her, they were so ashamed; and pony had to put on his clothes and go home with her. he could see that she had been crying, and that made him a little sorry, but not so very; and the most that he was afraid of was that she would tell his father. but if she did he never knew it, and that night she came to him after he went to bed, and begged him so not to stay in swimming the whole day any more, and told him how frightened she had been, that he had to promise; and then that made him feel worse than ever, for he did not see how he could break his promise. she was not exactly a bad mother, and she was not exactly a good mother. if she had been really a good mother she would have let him do whatever he wanted, and never made any trouble, and if she had been a bad mother she would not have let him do anything; and then he could have done it without her letting him. in some ways she was good enough; she would let him take out things to the boys in the back yard from the table, and she put apple-butter or molasses on when it was hot biscuit that he took out. once she let him have a birthday party, and had cake and candy-pulling and lemonade, and nobody but boys, because he said that boys hated girls; even his own sisters did not come. sometimes she would give him money for ice-cream, and if she could have got over being particular about his going in swimming before he could swim, and pistols and powder and such things, she would have done very well. she was first-rate when he was sick, and nobody could take care of him like her, cooling his pillow and making the bed easy, and keeping everybody quiet; and when he began to get well she would cook things that tasted better than anything you ever knew: stewed chicken, and toast with gravy on, and things like that. even when he was well, and just lonesome, she would sit by his bed if he asked her, till he went to sleep, or got quieted down; and if he was trying to make anything she would help him all she could, but if it was something that you had to use a knife with she was not much help. it always seemed to pony that she begrudged his going with the boys, and she said how nice he used to keep his clothes before, and had such pretty manners, and now he was such a sloven, and was so rude and fierce that she was almost afraid of him. he knew that she was making fun about being afraid of him; and if she did hate to have him go with some of the worst boys, still she was willing to help in lots of ways. she gave him yarn to make a ball with, and she covered it for him with leather. sometimes she seemed to do things for him that she would not do for his sisters, and she often made them give up to him when they had a dispute. she made a distinction between boys and girls, and did not make him help with the housework. of course he had to bring in wood, but all the fellows had to do that, and they did not count it; what they hated was having to churn, or wipe dishes after company. pony's mother never made him do anything like that; she said it was girls' work; and she would not let him learn to milk, either, for she said that milking was women's work, and all that pony had to do with the cow was to bring her home from the pasture in the evening. sometimes when there was company she would let him bring in a boy to the second table, and she gave them all the preserves and cake that they could eat. the kind of company she had was what nearly all the mothers had in the boy's town; they asked a whole lot of other mothers to supper, and had stewed chicken and hot biscuit, and tea and coffee, and quince and peach preserves, and sweet tomato pickles, and cake with jelly in between, and pound-cake with frosting on, and buttered toast, and maybe fried eggs and ham. the fathers never seemed to come; or, if the father that belonged in the house came, he did not go and sit in the parlor with the mothers after supper, but went up-town, to the post-office, or to some of the lawyers' offices, or else a store, and talked politics. pony never thought his mother was good looking, or, rather, he did not think anything about that, and it always seemed to him that she must be a pretty old woman; but once when she had company, and she came in from the kitchen with the last dish, and put it on the table, one of the nicest of the other mothers came up, and put her arm around pony's mother, and said: "how pretty you do look, mrs. baker! i just want to kiss you on those red cheeks. i should say you were a girl, instead of having all those children." pony was standing out on the porch with his five sisters, and when he looked in through the door, and saw his mother with her head thrown back laughing, and her face flushed from standing over the stove to cook the supper, and her brown hair tossed a little, he did think that she was very nice looking, and like the girls at school that were in the fourth reader; and she was very nicely dressed, too, in a white muslin dress, with the blue check apron she had been working in flung behind the kitchen door, as she came into the sitting-room carrying the dish in one hand. he did not know what the other mother meant by saying "all those children"; for it was a small family for the boy's town, and he thought she must just be fooling. sometimes his mother would romp with the children, or sing them funny, old-fashioned songs, such as people used to sing when the country was first settled and everybody lived in log cabins. when she got into one of her joking times she would call pony "honey! honey!" like the old colored aunty that had the persimmon-tree in her yard; and if she had to go past him she would wind her arm around his head and mumble the top of it with her lips; and if there were any of the fellows there, and pony would fling her arm away because he hated to have her do it before them, she would just laugh. of course, if she had been a good mother about everything else pony would not have minded that, but she was such a very bad mother about letting him have fun, sometimes, that pony could not overlook it, as he might have done. he did not think that she ought to call him pony before the boys, for, though he did not mind the boys' calling him pony, it was not the thing for a fellow's mother, and it was sure to give them the notion she babied him at home. once, after she called him "pony, dear!" the fellows mocked her when they got away, and all of them called him "pony, dear!" till he began to cry and to stone them. but the worst of her ways was about powder, and her not wanting him to have it, or not wanting him to have it where there was fire. she would never let him come near the stove with it, after one of the fellows had tried to dry his powder on the stove when it had got wet from being pumped on in his jacket-pocket while he was drinking at the pump, and the fellow forgot to take it off the stove quick enough, and it almost blew his mother up, and did pretty nearly scare her to death; and she would not let him keep it in a bottle, or anything, but just loose in a paper, because another of the fellows had begun to pour powder once from a bottle onto a coal of fire, and the fire ran up the powder, and blew the bottle to pieces, and filled the fellow's face so full of broken glass that the doctor was nearly the whole of that fourth of july night getting it out. so, although she was a good mother in some things, she was a bad mother in others, and these were the great things; and they were what gave him the right to run off. ii the right that pony had to run off, from the way his father acted pony had a right to run off from some of the things that his father had done, but it seemed to him that they were mostly things that his mother had put his father up to, and that his father would not have been half as bad if he had been let alone. in the boy's town the fellows celebrated christmas just as they did fourth of july, by firing off pistols and shooting crackers, and one christmas one of the fellows' pistols burst and blew the ball of his thumb open, and when a crowd of the fellows helped him past pony's house, crying and limping (the pain seemed to go down his leg, and lame him), pony's mother made his father take pony's pistol right away from him, and not let him have it till after new year's; and what made it worse was that pony had faithfully kept his promise to her that he would not fire anything out of his pistol but paper wads, while all the other fellows were firing shot, and tacks, and little marbles, out of theirs; and some of them tried to shame him into breaking his word, and he had to stand their calling him cry-baby, and everything. then, she would not let his father get him a gun to go hunting with, because he would have to fire something besides wads out of that, and would be sure to kill himself. pony told her that he would not kill himself, and tried to laugh her out of the notion, but it was no use, and he never had a gun till he was twelve years old; he was nine at the time i mean. one of the fellows who was only eight was going to have a gun as soon as his brother got done with his. she would hardly let his father get him a dog, and i suppose it was something but pony's disappointment about the gun that made her agree to the dog at last; even then she would not agree to his having it before it had its eyes open, when the great thing about a puppy was its not having its eyes open, and it was fully two weeks old before he was allowed to bring it home, though he was taken to choose it before it could walk very well, and he went every day afterwards to see how it was getting along, and to watch out that it did not get changed with the other little dogs. the first night after he got it to his own house, the dog whined so with homesickness that it kept everybody awake till pony went to the woodshed, where it was in the clothes-basket, and took it into his own bed; then it went to sleep, and did not whine a bit. his father let him keep it there that one night, but the next he made him put it out again, because he said it would get the house full of fleas; and he said if it made much more trouble he would make pony take it back. he was not a very good father about money, because when pony went to ask him for a five-cent piece he always wanted to know what it was for, and even when it was for a good thing a fellow did not always like to tell. if his father did not think it was a good thing he would not let pony have it, and then pony would be ashamed to go back to the boys, for they would say his father was stingy, though perhaps none of them had tried to get money from their own fathers. every now and then the fellows tried to learn to smoke, and that was a thing that pony's father would not let him do. he would let him smoke the drift-wood twigs, which the boys picked up along the river shore and called smoke-wood, or he would let him smoke grapevine or the pods of the catalpa, which were just like cigars, but he was mean about real tobacco. once, when he found a cigar in pony's pocket, he threw it into the fire, and said that if he ever knew him to have another he would have a talk with him. he was pretty bad about wanting pony to weed his mother's flower-beds and about going regularly to school, and always getting up in time for school. to be sure, if a show or a circus came along, he nearly always took pony in, but then he was apt to take the girls, too, and he did not like to have pony go off with a crowd of boys, which was the only way to go into a show; for if the fellows saw you with your family, all dressed up, and maybe with your shoes on, they would make fun of you the next time they caught you out. he made pony come in every night before nine o'clock, and even christmas eve, or the night before fourth of july, he would not let him stay up the whole night. when he went to the city, as the boys called the large town twenty miles away from the boy's town, he might get pony a present or he might not, but he would not promise, because once when he promised, he forgot it, and then pony's mother scolded him. there were some boys' fathers in the boy's town who were good fathers, and let their children do whatever they pleased, and pony could not help feeling rather ashamed before these boys. if one of that sort of fellows' fathers passed a crowd of boys, they would not take any notice of their boys; but if pony's father came along, he would very likely say, "well, pony!" or something like that, and then all the fellows would hollo, "well, pony! well, pony!" and make fun of his father, when he got past, and walk like him, or something, so that pony would be so mad he would hardly know what to do. he hated to ask his father not to speak to him, or look at him, when he was with the fellows, but it seemed to him as if his father ought to know better without asking. there were a great many things like that which no good father would have done, but the thing that made pony lose all patience, and begin getting ready to run off right away, was the way his father behaved when pony got mad at the teacher one day, and brought his books home, and said he was not going back to that school any more. the reason was because the teacher had put pony back from third reader to the second and made him go into a class of little fellows not more than seven years old. it happened one morning, after a day when pony had read very badly in the afternoon, and though he had explained that he had read badly because the weather was so hot, the teacher said he might try it in the second reader till the weather changed, at any rate; and the whole school laughed. the worst of it was that pony was really a very good reader, and could speak almost the best of any of the boys; but that afternoon he was lazy, and would not pay attention. at recess, after the teacher had put him back, all the fellows came round and asked him what he was going to do now; and he just shut his teeth and told them they would see; and at noon they did see. as soon as school was dismissed, or even before, pony put all his books together, and his slate, and tied them with his slate-pencil string, and twitched his hat down off the peg, and strutted proudly out of the room, so that not only the boys but the teacher, too, could see that he was leaving school. the teacher looked on and pretended to smile, but pony did not smile; he kept his teeth shut, and walked stiffly through the door, and straight home, without speaking to any one. that was the way to do when you left school in the boy's town, for then the boys would know you were in earnest; and none of them would try to speak to you, either; they would respect you too much. pony's mother knew that he had left school as soon as she saw him bringing home his books, but she only looked sorry and did not say anything. she must have told his father about it when he came to dinner, though, for as soon as they sat down at the table his father began to ask what the trouble was. pony answered very haughtily, and said that old archer had put him back into the second reader, and he was not going to stand it, and he had left school. "then," said his father, "you expect to stay in the second reader the rest of your life?" this was something that pony had never thought of before; but he said he did not care, and he was not going to have old archer put him back, anyway, and he began to cry. it was then that his mother showed herself a good mother, if ever she was one, and said she thought it was a shame to put pony back and mortify him before the other boys, and she knew that it must just have happened that he did not read very well that afternoon because he was sick, or something, for usually he read perfectly. his father said, "my dear girl, my dear girl!" and his mother hushed up and did not say anything more; but pony could see what she thought, and he accused old archer of always putting on him and always trying to mortify him. "that's all very well," said his father, "but i think we ought to give him one more trial; and i advise you to take your books back again this afternoon, and read so well that he will put you into the fourth reader to-morrow morning." pony understood that his father was just making fun about the fourth reader, but was in earnest about his going back to school; and he left the table and threw himself on the lounge, with his face down, and cried. he said he was sick, and his head ached, and he could not go to school; his father said that he hoped his headache would wear off in the course of the afternoon, but if he was worse they would have the doctor when he came home from school. then he took his hat and went out of the front door to go up town, and pony screamed out, "well, i'll run off; that's what i'll do!" his father did not take any notice of him, and his mother only said, "pony, pony!" while his sisters all stood round frightened at the way pony howled and thrashed the lounge with his legs. but before one o'clock pony washed his face and brushed his hair, and took his books and started for school. his mother tried to kiss him, but he pushed her off, for it seemed to him that she might have made his father let him stay out of school, if she had tried, and he was not going to have any of her pretending. he made his face very cold and hard as he marched out of the house, for he never meant to come back to that house any more. he meant to go to school that afternoon, but as soon as school was out he was going to run off. when the fellows saw him coming back with his books they knew how it was, but they did not mock him, for he had done everything that he could, and all that was expected of anybody in such a case. a boy always came back when he had left school in that way, and nobody supposed but what he would; the thing was to leave school; after that you were not to blame, whatever happened. before recess it began to be known among them that pony was going to run off, because his father had made him come back, and then they did think he was somebody; and as soon as they got out at recess they all crowded round him and began to praise him up, and everything, and to tell him that they would run off, too, if their fathers sent them back; and so he began to be glad that he was going to do it. they asked him when he was going to run off, and he told them they would see; and pretty soon it was understood that he was going to run off the same night. when school was out a whole crowd of them started with him, and some of the biggest fellows walked alongside of him, and talked down over their shoulders to him, and told him what he must do. they said he must not start till after dark, and he must watch out for the constable till he got over the corporation line and then nobody could touch him. they said that they would be waiting round the corner for him as soon as they had their suppers, and one of them would walk along with him to the end of the first street and then another would be waiting there to go with him to the end of the next, and so on till they reached the corporation line. very likely his father would have the constable waiting there to stop him, but pony ought to start to run across the line and then the fellows would rush out and trip up the constable and hold him down till pony got safe across. he ought to hollo, when he was across, and that would let them know that he was safe and they would be ready to let the constable up, and begin to run before he could grab them. everybody thought that was a splendid plan except archy hawkins, that all the fellows called old hawkins; his father kept one of the hotels, and old hawkins used to catch frogs for the table; he was the one that the frogs used to know by sight, and when they saw him they would croak out: "here comes hawkins! here comes hawkins! look out!" and jump off the bank into the water and then come up among the green slime, where nobody but old hawkins could see them. he was always joking and getting into scrapes, but still the boys liked him and thought he was pretty smart, and now they did not mind it when he elbowed the big boys away that were talking to pony and told them to shut up. "you just listen to your uncle, pony!" he said. "these fellows don't know anything about running off. i'll tell you how to do it; you mind your uncle! it's no use trying to get away from the constable, if he's there, for he'll catch you as quick as lightning, and he won't mind these fellows any more than fleas. you oughtn't try to start till along about midnight, for the constable will be in bed by that time, and you won't have any trouble. you must have somebody to wake you up, and some of the fellows ought to be outside, to do it. you listen to your grandfather! you ought to tie a string around your big toe, and let the string hang out of the window, the way you do fourth of july eve; and then just as soon as it strikes twelve, the fellows ought to tug away at the string till you come hopping to the window, and tell 'em to stop. but you got to whisper, and the fellows mustn't make any noise, either, or your father will be out on them in a minute. he'll be watching out, to-night, anyway, i reckon, because--" old hawkins was walking backward in front of pony, talking to him, and showing him how he must hop to the window, and all at once he struck his heel against a root in the sidewalk, and the first thing he knew he sat down so hard that it about knocked the breath out of him. all the fellows laughed, and anybody else would have been mad, but old hawkins was too good-natured; and he got up and brushed himself, and said: "say! let's go down to the river and go in, before supper, anyway." nearly all the fellows agreed, and old hawkins said: "come along, pony! you got to come, too!" but pony stiffly refused, partly because it seemed to him pretty mean to forget all about his running away, like that, and partly because he had to ask his mother before he went in swimming. a few of the little fellows kept with him all the way home, but most of the big boys went along with old hawkins. one of them stayed with pony and the little boys, and comforted him for the way the rest had left him. he was a fellow who was always telling about indians, and he said that if pony could get to the indians, anywhere, and they took a fancy to him, they would adopt him into their tribe, if it was just after some old chief had lost a son in battle. maybe they would offer to kill him first, and they would have to hold a council, but if they did adopt him, it would be the best thing, because then he would soon turn into an indian himself, and forget how to speak english; and if ever the indians had to give up their prisoners, and he was brought back, and his father and mother came to pick him out, they might know him by some mark or other, but he would not know them, and they would have to let him go back to the indians again. he said that was the very best way, and the only way, but the trouble would be to get to the indians in the first place. he said he knew of one reservation in the north part of the state, and he promised to find out if there were any other indians living nearer; the reservation was about a hundred miles off, and it would take pony a good while to go to them. the name of this boy was jim leonard. but now, before i go the least bit further with the story of pony baker's running away, i have got to tell about jim leonard, and what kind of boy he was, and the scrape that he once got pony and the other boys into, and a hair-breadth escape he had himself, when he came pretty near being drowned in a freshet; and i will begin with the hair-breadth escape, because it happened before the scrape. iii jim leonard's hair-breadth escape jim leonard's stable used to stand on the flat near the river, and on a rise of ground above it stood jim leonard's log-cabin. the boys called it jim leonard's log-cabin, but it was really his mother's, and the stable was hers, too. it was a log stable, but up where the gable began the logs stopped, and it was weather-boarded the rest of the way, and the roof was shingled. jim leonard said it was all logs once, and that the roof was loose clap-boards, held down by logs that ran across them, like the roofs in the early times, before there were shingles or nails, or anything, in the country. but none of the oldest boys had ever seen it like that, and you had to take jim leonard's word for it if you wanted to believe it. the little fellows nearly all did; but everybody said afterwards it was a good thing for jim leonard that it was not that kind of roof when he had his hair-breadth escape on it. he said himself that he would not have cared if it had been; but that was when it was all over, and his mother had whipped him, and everything, and he was telling the boys about it. he said that in his pirate book lots of fellows on rafts got to land when they were shipwrecked, and that the old-fashioned roof would have been just like a raft, anyway, and he could have steered it right across the river to delorac's island as easy! pony baker thought very likely he could, but hen billard said: "well, why didn't you do it, with the kind of a roof you had?" some of the boys mocked jim leonard; but a good many of them thought he could have done it if he could have got into the eddy that there was over by the island. if he could have landed there, once, he could have camped out and lived on fish till the river fell. it was that spring, about fifty-four years ago, when the freshet, which always came in the spring, was the worst that anybody could remember. the country above the boy's town was under water, for miles and miles. the river bottoms were flooded so that the corn had to be all planted over again when the water went down. the freshet tore away pieces of orchard, and apple-trees in bloom came sailing along with logs and fence rails and chicken-coops, and pretty soon dead cows and horses. there was a dog chained to a dog-kennel that went by, howling awfully; the boys would have given anything if they could have saved him, but the yellow river whirled him out of sight behind the middle pier of the bridge, which everybody was watching from the bank, expecting it to go any minute. the water was up within four or five feet of the bridge, and the boys believed that if a good big log had come along and hit it, the bridge would have been knocked loose from its piers and carried down the river. perhaps it would, and perhaps it would not. the boys all ran to watch it as soon as school was out, and stayed till they had to go to supper. after supper some of their mothers let them come back and stay till bedtime, if they would promise to keep a full yard back from the edge of the bank. they could not be sure just how much a yard was, and they nearly all sat down on the edge and let their legs hang over. jim leonard was there, holloing and running up and down the bank, and showing the other boys things away out in the river that nobody else could see; he said he saw a man out there. he had not been to supper, and he had not been to school all day, which might have been the reason why he would rather stay with the men and watch the bridge than go home to supper; his mother would have been waiting for him with a sucker from the pear-tree. he told the boys that while they were gone he went out with one of the men on the bridge as far as the middle pier, and it shook like a leaf; he showed with his hand how it shook. jim leonard was a fellow who believed he did all kinds of things that he would like to have done; and the big boys just laughed. that made jim leonard mad, and he said that as soon as the bridge began to go, he was going to run out on it and go with it; and then they would see whether he was a liar or not! they mocked him and danced round him till he cried. but pony baker, who had come with his father, believed that jim leonard would really have done it; and at any rate, he felt sorry for him when jim cried. he stayed later than any of the little fellows, because his father was with him, and even all the big boys had gone home except hen billard, when pony left jim leonard on the bank and stumbled sleepily away, with his hand in his father's. when pony was gone, hen billard said: "well, going to stay all night, jim?" and jim leonard answered back, as cross as could be, "yes, i am!" and he said the men who were sitting up to watch the bridge were going to give him some of their coffee, and that would keep him awake. but perhaps he thought this because he wanted some coffee so badly. he was awfully hungry, for he had not had anything since breakfast, except a piece of bread-and-butter that he got pony baker to bring him in his pocket when he came down from school at noontime. hen billard said, "well, i suppose i won't see you any more, jim; good-bye," and went away laughing; and after a while one of the men saw jim leonard hanging about, and asked him what he wanted there, at that time of night; and jim could not say he wanted coffee, and so there was nothing for him to do but go. there was nowhere for him to go but home, and he sneaked off in the dark. when he came in sight of the cabin he could not tell whether he would rather have his mother waiting for him with a whipping and some supper, or get to bed somehow with neither. he climbed softly over the back fence and crept up to the back door, but it was fast; then he crept round to the front door, and that was fast, too. there was no light in the house, and it was perfectly still. all of a sudden it struck him that he could sleep in the stable-loft, and he thought what a fool he was not to have thought of it before. the notion brightened him up so that he got the gourd that hung beside the well-curb and took it out to the stable with him; for now he remembered that the cow would be there, unless she was in somebody's garden-patch or corn-field. he noticed as he walked down towards the stable that the freshet had come up over the flat, and just before the door he had to wade. but he was in his bare feet and he did not care; if he thought anything, he thought that his mother would not come out to milk till the water went down, and he would be safe till then from the whipping he must take, sooner or later, for playing hooky. sure enough, the old cow was in the stable, and she gave jim leonard a snort of welcome and then lowed anxiously. he fumbled through the dark to her side, and began to milk her. she had been milked only a few hours before, and so he got only a gourdful from her. but it was all strippings, and rich as cream, and it was smoking warm. it seemed to jim leonard that it went down to his very toes when he poured it into his throat, and it made him feel so good that he did not know what to do. there really was not anything for him to do but to climb up into the loft by the ladder in the corner of the stable, and lie down on the old last year's fodder. the rich, warm milk made jim leonard awfully sleepy, and he dropped off almost as soon as his head touched the corn-stalks. the last thing he remembered was the hoarse roar of the freshet outside, and that was a lulling music in his ears. the next thing he knew, and he hardly knew that, was a soft, jolting, sinking motion, first to one side and then to another; then he seemed to be going down, down, straight down, and then to be drifting off into space. he rubbed his eyes, and found it was full daylight, although it was the daylight of early morning; and while he lay looking out of the stable-loft window and trying to make out what it all meant, he felt a wash of cold water along his back, and his bed of fodder melted away under him and around him, and some loose planks of the loft floor swam weltering out of the window. then he knew what had happened. the flood had stolen up while he slept, and sapped the walls of the stable; the logs had given way, one after another, and had let him down, with the roof, into the water. he got to his feet as well as he could, and floundered over the rising and falling boards to the window in the floating gable. one look outside showed him his mother's log-cabin safe on its rise of ground, and at the corner the old cow, that must have escaped through the stable door he had left open, and passed the night among the cabbages. she seemed to catch sight of jim leonard when he put his head out, and she lowed to him. jim leonard did not stop to make any answer. he clambered out of the window and up onto the ridge of the roof, and there, in the company of a large gray rat, he set out on the strangest voyage a boy ever made. in a few moments the current swept him out into the middle of the river, and he was sailing down between his native shore on one side and delorac's island on the other. all round him seethed and swirled the yellow flood in eddies and ripples, where drift of all sorts danced and raced. his vessel, such as it was, seemed seaworthy enough. it held securely together, fitting like a low, wide cup over the water, and perhaps finding some buoyancy from the air imprisoned in it above the window. but jim leonard was not satisfied, and so far from being proud of his adventure, he was frightened worse even than the rat which shared it. as soon as he could get his voice, he began to shout for help to the houses on the empty shores, which seemed to fly backward on both sides while he lay still on the gulf that swashed around him, and tried to drown his voice before it swallowed him up. at the same time the bridge, which had looked so far off when he first saw it, was rushing swiftly towards him, and getting nearer and nearer. he wondered what had become of all the people and all the boys. he thought that if he were safe there on shore he should not be sleeping in bed while somebody was out in the river on a roof, with nothing but a rat to care whether he got drowned or not. where was hen billard, that always made fun so; or archy hawkins, that pretended to be so good-natured; or pony baker, that seemed to like a fellow so much? he began to call for them by name: "hen billard--_o_ hen! help, help! archy hawkins, _o_ archy! i'm drowning! pony, pony, _o_ pony! don't you see me, pony?" he could see the top of pony baker's house, and he thought what a good, kind man pony's father was. surely _he_ would try to save him; and jim leonard began to yell: "o mr. baker! look here, mr. baker! it's jim leonard, and i'm floating down the river on a roof! save me, mr. baker, save me! help, help, somebody! fire! fire! fire! murder! fire!" by this time he was about crazy, and did not half know what he was saying. just in front of where hen billard's grandmother lived, on the street that ran along the top of the bank, the roof got caught in the branches of a tree which had drifted down and stuck in the bottom of the river so that the branches waved up and down as the current swashed through them. jim leonard was glad of anything that would stop the roof, and at first he thought he would get off on the tree. that was what the rat did. perhaps the rat thought jim leonard really was crazy and he had better let him have the roof to himself; but the rat saw that he had made a mistake, and he jumped back again after he had swung up and down on a limb two or three times. jim leonard felt awfully when the rat first got into the tree, for he remembered how it said in the pirate book that rats always leave a sinking ship, and now he believed that he certainly was gone. but that only made him hollo the louder, and he holloed so loud that at last he made somebody hear. it was hen billard's grandmother, and she put her head out of the window with her night-cap on, to see what the matter was. jim leonard caught sight of her and he screamed, "fire, fire, fire! i'm drownding, mrs. billard! oh, do somebody come!" hen billard's grandmother just gave one yell of "fire! the world's a-burnin' up, hen billard, and you layin' there sleepin' and not helpin' a bit! somebody's out there in the river!" and she rushed into the room where hen was, and shook him. he bounced out of bed and pulled on his pantaloons, and was down-stairs in a minute. he ran bareheaded over to the bank, and when jim leonard saw him coming he holloed ten times as loud: "it's me, hen! it's jim leonard! oh, do get somebody to come out and save me! fire!" as soon as hen heard that, and felt sure it was not a dream, which he did in about half a second, he began to yell, too, and to say: "how did you get there? fire, fire, fire! what are you on? fire! are you in a tree, or what? fire, fire! are you in a flat-boat? fire, fire, fire! if i had a skiff--fire!" he kept racing up and down the bank, and back and forth between the bank and the houses. the river was almost up to the top of the bank, and it looked a mile wide. down at the bridge you could hardly see any light between the water and the bridge. pretty soon people began to look out of their doors and windows, and hen billard's grandmother kept screaming, "the world's a-burnin' up! the river's on fire!" then boys came out of their houses; and then men with no hats on; and then women and girls, with their hair half down. the fire-bells began to ring, and in less than five minutes both the fire companies were on the shore, with the men at the brakes and the foremen of the companies holloing through their trumpets. then jim leonard saw what a good thing it was that he had thought of holloing fire. he felt sure now that they would save him somehow, and he made up his mind to save the rat, too, and pet it, and maybe go around and exhibit it. he would name it bolivar; it was just the color of the elephant bolivar that came to the boy's town every year. these things whirled through his brain while he watched two men setting out in a skiff towards him. they started from the shore a little above him, and they meant to row slanting across to his tree, but the current, when they got fairly into it, swept them far below, and they were glad to row back to land again without ever getting anywhere near him. at the same time, the tree-top where his roof was caught was pulled southward by a sudden rush of the torrent; it opened, and the roof slipped out, with jim leonard and the rat on it. they both joined in one squeal of despair as the river leaped forward with them, and a dreadful "oh!" went up from the people on the bank. some of the firemen had run down to the bridge when they saw that the skiff was not going to be of any use, and one of them had got out of the window of the bridge onto the middle pier, with a long pole in his hand. it had an iron hook at the end, and it was the kind of pole that the men used to catch drift-wood with and drag it ashore. when the people saw blue bob with that pole in his hand, they understood what he was up to. he was going to wait till the water brought the roof with jim leonard on it down to the bridge, and then catch the hook into the shingles and pull it up to the pier. the strongest current set close in around the middle pier, and the roof would have to pass on one side or the other. that was what blue bob argued out in his mind when he decided that the skiff would never reach jim leonard, and he knew that if he could not save him that way, nothing could save him. blue bob must have had a last name, but none of the little fellows knew what it was. everybody called him blue bob because he had such a thick, black beard that when he was just shaved his face looked perfectly blue. he knew all about the river and its ways, and if it had been of any use to go out with a boat, he would have gone. that was what all the boys said, when they followed blue bob to the bridge and saw him getting out on the pier. he was the only person that the watchman had let go on the bridge for two days. the water was up within three feet of the floor, and if jim leonard's roof slipped by blue bob's guard and passed under the bridge, it would scrape jim leonard off, and that would be the last of him. all the time the roof was coming nearer the bridge, sometimes slower, sometimes faster, just as it got into an eddy or into the current; once it seemed almost to stop, and swayed completely round; then it just darted forward. blue bob stood on the very point of the pier, where the strong stone-work divided the current, and held his hooked pole ready to make a clutch at the roof, whichever side it took. jim leonard saw him there, but although he had been holloing and yelling and crying all the time, now he was still. he wanted to say, "o bob, save me!" but he could not make a sound. it seemed to him that bob was going to miss him when he made a lunge at the roof on the right side of the pier; it seemed to him that the roof was going down the left side; but he felt it quiver and stop, and then it gave a loud crack and went to pieces, and flung itself away upon the whirling and dancing flood. at first jim leonard thought he had gone with it; but it was only the rat that tried to run up blue bob's pole, and slipped off into the water; and then somehow jim was hanging onto blue bob's hands and scrambling onto the bridge. blue bob always said he never saw any rat, and a good many people said there never was any rat on the roof with jim leonard; they said that he just made the rat up. he did not mention the rat himself for several days; he told pony baker that he did not think of it at first, he was so excited. pony asked his father what he thought, and pony's father said that it might have been the kind of rat that people see when they have been drinking too much, and that blue bob had not seen it because he had signed the temperance pledge. but this was a good while after. at the time the people saw jim leonard standing safe with blue bob on the pier, they set up a regular election cheer, and they would have believed anything jim leonard said. they all agreed that blue bob had a right to go home with jim and take him to his mother, for he had saved jim's life, and he ought to have the credit of it. before this, and while everybody supposed that jim leonard would surely be drowned, some of the people had gone up to his mother's cabin to prepare her for the worst. she did not seem to understand exactly, and she kept round getting breakfast, with her old clay pipe in her mouth; but when she got it through her head, she made an awful face, and dropped her pipe on the door-stone and broke it; and then she threw her check apron over her head and sat down and cried. [illustration: "'i'll learn that limb to sleep in a cow-barn!'"] but it took so long for her to come to this that the people had not got over comforting her and trying to make her believe that it was all for the best, when blue bob came up through the bars with his hand on jim's shoulder, and about all the boys in town tagging after them. jim's mother heard the hurrahing and pulled off her apron, and saw that jim was safe and sound there before her. she gave him a look that made him slip round behind blue bob, and she went in and got a table-knife, and she came out and went to the pear-tree and cut a sucker. she said, "i'll learn that limb to sleep in a cow-barn when he's got a decent bed in the house!" and then she started to come towards jim leonard. iv the scrape that jim leonard got the boys into as i said, it was in the spring that jim leonard's hair-breadth escape happened. but it was late in the summer of that very same year that he got pony baker and all the rest of the boys into about one of the worst scrapes that the boy's town boys were ever in. at first, it was more like a dare than anything else, for when jim leonard said he knew a watermelon patch that the owner had no use for, the other boys dared him to tell where it was. he wagged his head, and said that he knew, and then they dared him to tell whose patch it was; and all at once he said it was bunty williams's, and dared them to come and get the melons with him. none of the boys in the boy's town would take a dare, and so they set off with jim leonard, one sunny saturday morning in september. some of the boys had their arms round one another's necks, talking as loud as they could into one another's faces, and some whooping and holloing, and playing indian, and some throwing stones and scaring cats. they had nearly as many dogs as there were boys, and there were pretty nearly all the boys in the neighborhood. there seemed to be thirty or forty of them, they talked so loud and ran round so, but perhaps there were only ten or eleven. hen billard was along, and so were piccolo wright and archie hawkins, and then a great lot of little fellows. pony baker was not quite a little fellow in age; and there was something about him that always made the big boys let him go with their crowd. but now, when they passed pony's gate and his mother saw them, and because it was such a warm morning and she thought they might be going down to the river and called out to him, "you mustn't go in swimming, pony, dear; you'll get the ague," they began to mock pony as soon as they got by, and to hollo, "no, pony, dear! you mustn't get the ague. keep out of the water if you don't want your teeth to rattle, pony, dear!" this made pony so mad that he began to cry and try to fight them, and they all formed in a ring round him and danced and whooped till he broke through and started home. then they ran after him and coaxed him not to do it, and said that they were just in fun. after that they used pony first-rate, and he kept on with them. jim leonard was at the head, walking along and holloing to the fellows to hurry up. they had to wade the river, and he was showing off how he could hop, skip, and jump through, when he stepped on a slippery stone and sat down in the water and made the fellows laugh. but they acted first-rate with him when they got across; they helped him to take off his trousers and wring them out, and they wrung them so hard that they tore them a little, but they were a little torn already; and they wrung them so dry that he said they felt splendid when he got them on again. one of his feet went through the side of the trouser leg that was torn before it got to the end, and made the fellows laugh. when the boys first started jim said he had got to go ahead so as to be sure that they found the right patch. he now said that bunty williams had two patches, one that he was going to sell the melons out of, and the other that he was going to let them go to seed in; and it was the second melon patch that he had deserted. but pretty soon after they got over the river he came back and walked with the rest of the boys, and when they came to a piece of woods which they had to go through, he dropped behind. he said it was just the place for indian, and he wanted to be where he could get at them if they started up when the boys got by, as they would very likely do. some of the big fellows called him a cowardy-calf; but he said he would show them when the time came, and most of the little boys believed him and tried to get in front. it was not long before he stopped and asked, what if he could not find the right patch? but the big boys said that they reckoned he could if he looked hard enough, and they made him keep on. one of the dogs treed a squirrel, and jim offered to climb the tree and shake the squirrel off; but hen billard said his watermelon tooth was beginning to trouble him, and he had no time for squirrels. that made all the big boys laugh, and they pulled jim leonard along, although he held back with all his might and told them to quit it. he began to cry. pony baker did not know what to make of him. he felt sorry for him, but it seemed to him that jim was acting as if he wanted to get out of showing the fellows where the patch was. pony lent him his handkerchief, and jim said that he had the toothache, anyway. he showed pony the tooth, and the fellows saw him and made fun, and they offered to carry him, if his tooth ached so that he could not walk, and then suddenly jim rushed ahead of the whole crowd. they thought he was trying to run away from them, and two or three of the big fellows took after him, and when they caught up with him, the rest of the boys could see him pointing, and then the big boys that were with him gave a whoop and waved their hats, and all the rest of the boys tore along and tried which could run the fastest and get to the place the soonest. they knew it must be something great; and sure enough it was a watermelon patch of pretty near an acre, sloping to the south from the edge of the woods, and all overrun with vines and just bulging all over with watermelons and muskmelons. the watermelons were some of the big mottled kind, with lightish blotches among their darker green, like georgia melons nowadays, and some almost striped in gray and green, and some were those big, round sugar melons, nearly black. they were all sizes, but most of them were large, and you need not "punk" them to see if they were ripe. anybody could tell that they were ripe from looking at them, and the muskmelons, which were the old-fashioned long kind, were yellow as gold. now, the big fellows said, you could see why bunty williams had let this patch go to seed. it was because they were such bully melons and would have the best seeds; and the fellows all agreed to save the seeds for bunty, and put them where he could find them. they began to praise jim leonard up, but he did not say anything, and only looked on with his queer, sleepy eyes, and said his tooth ached, when the fellows plunged down among the melons and began to burst them open. they had lots of fun. at first they cut a few melons open with their knives, but that was too slow, and pretty soon they began to jump on them and split them with sharp-edged rocks, or anything, to get them open quick. they did not eat close to the rind, as you do when you have a melon on the table, but they tore out the core and just ate that; and in about a minute they forgot all about saving the seeds for bunty williams and putting them in one place where he could get them. some of the fellows went into the edge of the woods to eat their melons, and then came back for more; some took them and cracked them open on the top rail of the fence, and then sat down in the fence corner and plunged their fists in and tore the cores out. some of them squeezed the juice out of the cores into the shells of the melons and then drank it out of them. piccolo wright was stooping over to pull a melon and archie hawkins came up behind him with a big melon that had a seam across it, it was so ripe; and he brought it down on piccolo's head, and it smashed open and went all over piccolo. he was pretty mad at first, but then he saw the fun of it, and he took one end of the melon and scooped it all out, and put it on in place of his hat and wore it like a helmet. archie did the same thing with the other end, and then all the big boys scooped out melons and wore them for helmets. they were all drabbled with seeds and pulp, and some of the little fellows were perfectly soaked. none of them cared very much for the muskmelons. somehow pony would not take any of the melons, although there was nothing that he liked so much. the fellows seemed to be having an awfully good time, and yet somehow it looked wrong to pony. he knew that bunty williams had given up the patch, because jim leonard said so, and he knew that the boys had a right to the melons if bunty had got done with them; but still the sight of them there, smashing and gorging, made pony feel anxious. it almost made him think that jim leonard was better than the rest because he would not take any of the melons, but stayed off at one side of the patch near the woods, where pony stood with him. he did not say much, and pony noticed that he kept watching the log cabin where bunty williams lived on the slope of the hill about half a mile off, and once he heard jim saying, as if to himself: "no, there isn't any smoke coming out of the chimbly, and that's a sign there ain't anybody there. they've all gone to market, i reckon." it went through pony that it was strange jim should care whether bunty was at home or not, if bunty had given up the patch, but he did not say anything; it often happened so with him about the things he thought strange. the fellows did not seem to notice where he was or what he was doing; they were all whooping and holloing, and now they began to play war with the watermelon rinds. one of the dogs thought he smelled a ground-squirrel and began to dig for it, and in about half a minute all the dogs seemed to be fighting, and the fellows were yelling round them and sicking them on; and they were all making such a din that pony could hardly hear himself think, as his father used to say. but he thought he saw some one come out of bunty's cabin, and take down the hill with a dog after him and a hoe in his hand. he made jim leonard look, and jim just gave a screech that rose above the din of the dogs and the other boys, "bunty's coming, and he's got his bulldog and his shotgun!" and then he turned and broke through the woods. all the boys stood still and stared at the hill-side, while the dogs fought on. the next thing they knew they were floundering among the vines and over the watermelon cores and shells and breaking for the woods; and as soon as the dogs found the boys were gone, they seemed to think it was no use to keep on fighting with nobody to look on, and they took after the fellows. the big fellows holloed to the little fellows to come on, and the little fellows began crying. they caught their feet in the roots and dead branches and kept falling down, and some of the big fellows that were clever, like hen billard and archie hawkins, came back and picked them up and started them on again. nobody stopped to ask himself or any one else why they should be afraid of bunty if he had done with his melon patch, but they all ran as if he had caught them stealing his melons, and had a right to shoot them, or set his dog on them. they got through the woods to the shore of the river, and all the time they could hear bunty williams roaring and shouting, and bunty williams's bulldog barking, and it seemed as if he were right behind them. after they reached the river they had to run a long way up the shore before they got to the ripple where they could wade it, and by that time they were in such a hurry that they did not stop to turn up their trousers' legs; they just splashed right in and splashed across the best way they could. some of them fell down, but everybody had to look out for himself, and they did not know that they were all safe over till they counted up on the other side. everybody was there but jim leonard, and they did not know what had become of him, but they were not very anxious. in fact they were all talking at the tops of their voices, and bragging what they would have done if bunty had caught them. piccolo wright showed how he could have tripped him up, and archie hawkins said that snuff would make a bulldog loosen his grip, because he would have to keep sneezing. none of them seemed to have seen either bunty's shotgun or his bulldog, but they all believed that he had them because jim leonard said so, just as they had believed that bunty had got done with his melon patch, until all at once one of them said, "where is jim leonard, anyway?" then they found out that nobody knew, and the little fellows began to think that maybe bunty williams had caught him, but hen billard said: "oh, he's safe enough, somewheres. i wish i had him here!" archie hawkins asked, "what would you do to him?" and hen said: "i'd show you! i'd make him go back and find out whether bunty really had a bulldog with him. i don't believe he had." then all the big boys said that none of them believed so, either, and that they would bet that any of their dogs could whip bunty's dog. their dogs did not look much like fighting. they were wet with running through the river, and they were lying round with their tongues hanging out, panting. but it made the boys think that something ought to be done to jim leonard, if they could ever find him, and some one said that they ought to look for him right away, but the rest said they ought to stop and dry their pantaloons first. pony began to be afraid they were going to hurt jim leonard if they got hold of him, and he said he was going home; and the boys tried to keep him from doing it. they said they were just going to build a drift-wood fire and dry their clothes at it, and they told him that if he went off in his wet trousers he would be sure to get the ague. but nothing that the boys could do would keep him, and so the big fellows said to let him go if he wanted to so much; and he climbed the river bank and left them kindling a fire. when he got away and looked back, all the boys had their clothes off and were dancing round the fire like indians, and he would have liked to turn back after he got to the top, and maybe he might have done so if he had not found jim leonard hiding in a hole up there and peeping over at the boys. jim was crying, and said his tooth ached awfully, and he was afraid to go home and get something to put in it, because his mother would whale him as soon as she caught him. he said he was hungry, too, and he wanted pony to go over into a field with him and get a turnip, but pony would not do it. he had three cents in his pocket--the big old kind that were as large as half-dollars and seemed to buy as much in that day--and he offered to let jim take them and go and get something to eat at the grocery. they decided he should buy two smoked red herrings and a cent's worth of crackers, and these were what jim brought back after he had been gone so long that pony thought he would never come. he had stopped to get some apples off one of the trees at his mother's house, and he had to watch his chance so that she should not see him, and then he had stopped and taken some potatoes out of a hill that would be first-rate if they could get some salt to eat them with, after they had built a fire somewhere and baked them. they thought it would be a good plan to dig one of these little caves just under the edge of the bank, and make a hole in the top to let the smoke out; but they would have to go a good way off so that the other fellows could not see them, and they could not wait for that. they divided the herrings between them, and they each had two crackers and three apples, and they made a good meal. then they went to a pump at the nearest house, where the woman said they might have a drink, and drank themselves full. they wanted awfully to ask her for some salt, but they did not dare to do it for fear she would make them tell what they wanted it for. so they came away without, and jim said they could put ashes on their potatoes the way the indians did, and it would be just as good as salt. they ran back to the river bank, and ran along up it till they were out of sight of the boys on the shore below, and then they made their oven in it, and started their fire with some matches that jim leonard had in his pocket, so that if he ever got lost in the woods at night he could make a fire and keep from freezing. his tooth had stopped aching now, and he kept telling such exciting stories about indians that pony could not seem to get the chance to ask why bunty williams should take after the boys with his shotgun and bulldog if he had given up the watermelon patch and only wanted it for seed. the question lurked in pony's mind all the time that they were waiting for the potatoes to bake, but somehow he could not get it out. he did not feel very well, and he tried to forget his bad feelings by listening as hard as he could to jim leonard's stories. jim kept taking the potatoes out to see if they were done enough, and he began to eat them while they were still very hard and greenish under the skin. pony ate them, too, although he was not hungry now, and he did not think the ashes were as good as salt on them, as jim pretended. the potato he ate seemed to make him feel no better, and at last he had to tell jim that he was afraid he was going to be sick. jim said that if they could heat some stones, and get a blanket anywhere, and put it over pony and the stones, and then pour water on the hot stones, they could give him a steam bath the way the indians did, and it would cure him in a minute; they could get the stones easy enough, and he could bring water from the river in his straw hat, but the thing of it was to get the blanket. he stood looking thoughtfully down at pony, who was crying now, and begging jim leonard to go home with him, for he did not believe he could walk on account of the pain that seemed to curl him right up. he asked jim if he believed he was beginning to have the ague, but jim said it was more like the yellow janders, although he agreed that pony had better go home, for it was pretty late, anyway. he made pony promise that if he would take him home he would let him get a good way off before he went into the house, so that pony's father and mother should not see who had brought him. he said that when he had got off far enough he would hollo, and then pony could go in. he was first-rate to pony on the way home, and helped him to walk, and when the pain curled him up so tight that he could not touch his foot to the ground, jim carried him. pony could never know just what to make of jim leonard. sometimes he was so good to you that you could not help thinking he was one of the cleverest fellows in town, and then all of a sudden he would do something mean. he acted the perfect coward at times, and at other times he was not afraid of anything. almost any of the fellows could whip him, but once he went into an empty house that was haunted, and came and looked out of the garret windows, and dared any of them to come up. he offered now, if pony did not want to go home and let his folks find out about the melon patch, to take him to his mother's log-barn, and get a witch-doctor to come and tend him; but pony said that he thought they had better keep on, and then jim trotted and asked him if the jolting did not do him some good. he said he just wished there was an indian medicine-man around somewhere. they were so long getting to pony's house that it was almost dusk when they reached the back of the barn, and jim put him over the fence. jim started to run, and pony waited till he got out of sight and holloed; then he began to shout, "father! mother! _o_ mother! come out here! i'm sick!" it did not seem hardly a second till he heard his mother calling back: "pony! pony! where are you, child? where are you?" "here, behind the barn!" he answered. pony's mother came running out, and then his father, and when they had put him into his own bed up-stairs, his mother made his father go for the doctor. while his father was gone, his mother got the whole story out of pony--what he had been doing all day, and what he had been eating--but as to who had got him into the trouble, she said she knew from the start it must be jim leonard. after the doctor came and she told him what pony had been eating, without telling all that he had been doing, the doctor gave him something to make him feel better. as soon as he said he felt better she began to talk very seriously to him, and to tell him how anxious she had been ever since she had seen him going off in the morning with jim leonard at the head of that crowd of boys. "didn't you know he couldn't be telling the truth when he said the man had left his watermelon patch? didn't any of the boys?" "no," said pony, thoughtfully. "but when he pretended that he shouldn't know the right patch, and wanted to turn back?" "we didn't think anything. we thought he just wanted to get out of going. ought they let him turn back? maybe he meant to keep the patch all to himself." his mother was silent, and pony asked, "do you believe that a boy has a right to take anything off a tree or a vine?" "no; certainly not." "well, that's what i think, too." "why, pony," said his mother, "is there anybody who thinks such a thing can be right?" "well, the boys say it's not stealing. stealing is hooking a thing out of a wagon or a store; but if you can knock a thing off a tree, or get it through a fence, when it's on the ground already, then it's just like gathering nuts in the woods. that's what the boys say. do you think it is?" "i think it's the worst kind of stealing. i hope my boy doesn't do such things." "not very often," answered pony, thoughtfully. "when there's a lot of fellows together, you don't want them to laugh at you." "o pony, dear!" said his mother, almost crying. "well, anyway, mother," pony said, to cheer her up, "i didn't take any of the watermelons to-day, for all jim said bunty had got done with them." "i'm so glad to think you didn't! and you must promise, won't you, never to touch any fruit that doesn't belong to you?" "but supposing an apple was to drop over the fence onto the sidewalk, what would you do then?" "i should throw it right back over the fence again," said pony's mother. pony promised his mother never to touch other people's fruit, but he was glad she did not ask him to throw it back over the fence if it fell outside, for he knew the fellows would laugh. his father came back from going down-stairs with the doctor, and she told him all that pony had told her, and it seemed to pony that his father could hardly keep from laughing. but his mother did not even smile. "how could jim leonard tell them that a man would give up his watermelon patch, and how could they believe such a lie, poor, foolish boys?" "they wished to believe it," said pony's father, "and so did jim, i dare say." "he might have got some of them killed, if bunty williams had fired his gun at them," said pony's mother; and he could see that she was not half-satisfied with what his father said. "perhaps it was a hoe, after all. you can't shoot anybody with a hoe-handle, and there is nothing to prove that it was a gun but jim's word." "yes, and here poor pony has been so sick from it all, and jim leonard gets off without anything." "you are always wanting the tower to fall on the wicked," said pony's father, laughing. "when it came to the worst, jim didn't take the melons any more than pony did. and he seems to have wanted to back out of the whole affair at one time." "oh! and do you think that excuses him?" "no, i don't. but i think he's had a worse time, if that's any comfort, than pony has. he has suffered the fate of all liars. sooner or later their lies outwit them and overmaster them, for whenever people believe a liar he is forced to act as if he had spoken the truth. that's worse than having a tower fall on you, or pains in the stomach." pony's mother was silent for a moment as if she could not answer, and then she said, "well, all i know is, i wish there was no such boy in this town as jim leonard." v about running away to the indian reservation on a canal-boat, and how the plan failed now, anybody can see the kind of a boy that jim leonard was, pretty well; and the strange thing of it was that he could have such a boy as pony baker under him so. but, anyway, pony liked jim, as much as his mother hated him, and he believed everything jim said in spite of all that had happened. after jim promised to find out whether there was any indian reservation that you could walk to, he pretended to study out in the geography that the only reservation there was in the state was away up close to lake erie, but it was not far from the same canal that ran through the boy's town to the lake, and jim said, "i'll tell you what, pony! the way to do will be to get into a canal-boat, somehow, and that will take you to the reservation without your hardly having to walk a step; and you can have fun on the boat, too." pony agreed that this would be the best way, but he did not really like the notion of living so long among the indians that he would not remember his father and mother when he saw them; he would like to stay till he was pretty nearly grown up, and then come back in a chief's dress, with eagle plumes all down his back and a bow in his hand, and scare them a little when he first came in the house and then protect them from the tribe and tell them who he was, and enjoy their surprise. but he hated to say this to jim leonard, because he would think he was afraid to live with the indians always. he hardly dared to ask him what the indians would do to him if they did not adopt him, but he thought he had better, and jim said: "oh, burn you, maybe. but it ain't likely but what they'll adopt you; and if they do they'll take you down to the river, and wash you and scrub you, so's to get all the white man off, and then pull out your hair, a hair at a time, till there's nothing but the scalp-lock left, so that your enemies can scalp you handy; and then you're just as good an indian as anybody, and nobody can pick on you, or anything. the thing is how to find the canal-boat." the next morning at school it began to be known that pony baker was going to run off on a canal-boat to see the indians, and all the fellows said how he ought to do it. one of the fellows said that he ought to get to drive the boat horses, and another that he ought to hide on board in the cargo, and come out when the boat was passing the reservation; and another that he ought to go for a cabin-boy on one of the passenger-packets, and then he could get to the indians twice as soon as he could on a freight-boat. but the trouble was that pony was so little that they did not believe they would take him either for a driver or a cabin-boy; and he said he was not going to hide in the cargo, because the boats were full of rats, and he was not going to have rats running over him all the time. some of the fellows thought this showed a poor spirit in pony, and wanted him to take his dog along and hunt the rats; they said he could have lots of fun; but others said that the dog would bark as soon as he began to hunt the rats, and then pony would be found out and put ashore in a minute. the fellows could not think what to do till at last one of them said: "you know piccolo wright?" "yes." "well, you know his father has got a boat?" "yes. well?" "well, and he's got a horse, too; and everything." "well, what of it?" "get piccolo to hook the boat and take pony to the reservation." the fellows liked this notion so much that they almost hurrahed, and they could hardly wait till school was out and they could go and find piccolo and ask him whether he would do it. they found him up at the canal basin, where he was fishing off the stern of his father's boat. he was a pretty big boy, though he was not so very old, and he had a lazy, funny face and white hair; and the fellows called him piccolo because he was learning to play the piccolo flute, and talked about it when he talked at all, but that was not often. he was one of those boys who do not tan or freckle in the sun, but peel, and he always had some loose pieces of fine skin hanging to his nose. all the fellows came up and began holloing at once, and telling him what they wanted him to do, and he thought it was a first-rate notion, but he kept on fishing, without getting the least bit excited; and he did not say whether he would do it or not, and when the fellows got tired of talking they left him and began to look round the boat. there was a little cabin at one end, and all the rest of the boat was open, and it had been raining, or else the boat had leaked, and it was pretty full of water; and the fellows got down on some loose planks that were floating there, and had fun pushing them up and down, and almost forgot what they had come for. they found a long pump leaning against the side of the boat, with its spout out over the gunwale, and they asked piccolo if they might pump, and he said they might, and they pumped nearly all the water out after they had got done having fun on the planks. some of them went into the cabin and found a little stove there, where pony could cook his meals, and a bunk where he could sleep, or keep in out of the rain, and they said they wished they were going to run off, too. they took more interest than he did, but they paid him a good deal of attention, and he felt that it was great to be going to run off, and he tried not to be homesick, when he thought of being down there alone at night, and nobody near but piccolo out on the towpath driving the horse. the fellows talked it all over, and how they would do. they said that piccolo ought to hook the boat some friday night, and the sooner the better, and get a good start before saturday morning. they were going to start with pony, and perhaps travel all night with him, and then get off and sleep in the woods, to rest themselves, and then walk home; and the reason that piccolo ought to hook the boat friday night was that they could have all saturday to get back, when there was no school. if the boat went two miles an hour, which she always did, even if she was loaded with stone from piccolo's father's quarry, she would be fifteen miles from the boy's town by daybreak; and if they kept on travelling night and day, and pony drove the horse part of the time, they could reach the indian reservation monday evening, for they would not want to travel sunday, because it was against the law, and it was wicked, anyway. if they travelled on sunday, and a storm came up, just as likely as not the boat would get struck by lightning, and if it did, the lightning would run out along the rope and kill the horse and piccolo, too, if he was riding. but the way for piccolo to do was always to come aboard when it began to rain, and that would keep pony company a little, and they could make the horse go by throwing stones at him. pony and piccolo ought to keep together as much as they could, especially at night, so that if there were robbers, they could defend the boat better. of course, they could not make the horse go by throwing stones at him in the dark, and the way for them to do was for pony to get out and ride behind piccolo. besides making it safer against robbers, they could keep each other from going to sleep by talking, or else telling stories; or if one of them did doze off, the other could hold him on; and they must take turn about sleeping in the daytime. but the best way of all to scare the robbers was to have a pistol, and fire it off every little once in a while, so as to let them know that the boat was armed. one of the fellows that had a pistol said he would lend it to pony if pony would be sure to send it back from the reservation by piccolo, for he should want it himself on the fourth, which was coming in about three weeks. another fellow that had five cents, which he was saving up till he could get ten, to buy a pack of shooting-crackers, said he would lend it to pony to buy powder, if he only felt sure that he could get it back to him in time. all the other fellows said he could do it easily, but they did not say how; one of them offered to go and get the powder at once, so as to have it ready. but pony told him it would not be of any use, for he had promised his mother that he would not touch a pistol or powder before the fourth. none of the fellows seemed to think it was strange that he should be willing to run away from home, and yet be so anxious to keep his promise to his mother that he would not use a pistol to defend himself from robbers; and none of them seemed to think it was strange that they should not want piccolo, if he hooked his father's boat, to travel on sunday with it. after a while piccolo came to the little hatch-door, and looked down into the cabin where the boys were sitting and talking at the tops of their voices; but in about a minute he vanished, very suddenly for him, and they heard him pumping, and then before they knew it, they heard a loud, harsh voice shouting, "heigh, there!" they looked round, and at the open window of the cabin on the land-side they saw a man's face, and it seemed to fill the whole window. they knew it must be piccolo's father, and they just swarmed up the gangway all in a bunch. some of them fell, but these hung on to the rest, somehow, and they all got to the deck of the cabin together, and began jumping ashore, so that piccolo's father could not catch them. he was standing on the basin bank, saying something, but they did not know what, and they did not stop to ask, and they began to run every which way. they all got safely ashore, except jim leonard; he fell over the side of the boat between it and the bank, but he scrambled up out of the water like lightning, and ran after the rest. he was pretty long-legged, and he soon caught up, but he was just raining water from his clothes, and it made the fellows laugh so that they could hardly run, to hear him swish when he jolted along. they did not know what to do exactly, till one of them said they ought to go down to the river and go in swimming, and they could wring jim leonard's clothes out, and lay them on the shore to dry, and stay in long enough to let them dry. that was what they did, and they ran round through the backs of the gardens and the orchards, and through the alleys, and climbed fences, so that nobody could see them. the day was pretty hot, and by the time they got to the river they were all sweating, so that jim's clothes were not much damper than the others. he had nothing but a shirt and trousers on, anyway. after that they did not try to get piccolo to hook his father's boat, for they said that his father might get after them any time, and he would have a right to do anything he pleased to them, if he caught them. they could not think of any other boat that they could get, and they did not know how pony could reach the reservation without a canal-boat. that was the reason why they had to give up the notion of his going to the indians; and if anybody had told them that the indians were going to come to pony they would have said he was joking, or else crazy; but this was really what happened. it happened a good while afterwards; so long afterwards that they had about forgotten he ever meant to run off, and they had got done talking about it. vi how the indians came to the boy's town and jim leonard acted the coward jim leonard was so mad because he lost his chip-hat in the canal basin, when he fell off the boat (and had to go home bareheaded and tell his mother all about what happened, though his clothes were dry enough, and he might have got off without her noticing anything, if it had not been for his hat) that he would not take any interest in pony. but he kept on taking an interest in indians, and he was the most excited fellow in the whole boy's town when the indians came. the way they came to town was this: the white people around the reservation got tired of having them there, or else they wanted their land, and the government thought it might as well move them out west, where there were more indians, there were such a very few of them on the reservation; and so it loaded them on three canal-boats and brought them down through the boy's town to the ohio river, and put them on a steamboat, and then took them down to the mississippi, and put them on a reservation beyond that river. the boys did not know anything about this, and they would not have cared much if they had. all they knew was that one morning (and it happened to be saturday) three canal-boats, full of indians, came into the basin. nobody ever knew which boy saw them first. it seemed as if all the fellows in the boy's town happened to be up at the basin at once, and were standing there when the boats came in. when they saw that they were real indians, in blankets, with bows and arrows, warriors, squaws, papooses, and everything, they almost went crazy, and when a good many of the indians came ashore and went over to the court-house yard and began to shoot at quarters and half-dollars that the people stuck into the ground for them to shoot at, the fellows could hardly believe their eyes. they yelled and cheered and tried to get acquainted with the indian boys, and ran and got their arrows for them, and everything; and if the indians could only have stayed until the fourth, which was pretty near now, they would have thought it was the greatest thing that ever happened. jim leonard said they belonged to a tribe that had been against the british in the last war, and were the friends of the long knives, as they called the americans. he said that he read it in a book; and he hunted round for pony baker, and when he found him he said: "come here, pony; i want to tell you something." [illustration: "real indians, in blankets, with bows and arrows"] any other time all the other fellows would have crowded around and wanted to know what it was, but now they were so much taken up with the indians that none of them minded him, and so he got a good chance at pony alone. pony was afraid that jim leonard wanted him to run off with the indians, and this was just what he did want. he said: "you ought to get a blanket and stain your face and hands with walnut juice, and then no one could tell you from the rest of the tribe, and you could go out with them where they're going and hunt buffaloes. it's the greatest chance there ever was. they'll adopt you into the tribe, maybe, as soon as the canal-boats leave, or as quick as they can get to a place where they can pull your hair out and wash you in the canal. i tell you, if i was in your place, i'd do it, pony." pony did not know what to say. he hated to tell jim leonard that he had pretty nearly given up the notion of running off for the present, or until his father and mother did something more to make him do it. ever since the boys failed so in trying to get piccolo to hook his father's boat for pony to run off in, things had been going better with pony at home. his mother did not stop him from half so many things as she used to do, and lately his father had got to being very good to him: let him lie in bed in the morning, and did not seem to notice when he stayed out with the boys at night, telling stories on the front steps, or playing hide-and-go-whoop, or anything. they seemed to be a great deal taken up with each other and not to mind so much what pony was doing. his mother let him go in swimming whenever he asked her, and did not make him promise to keep out of the deep water. she said she would see, when he coaxed her for five cents to get powder for the fourth, and she let him have one of the boys to spend the night with him once, and she gave them waffles for breakfast. she showed herself something like a mother, and she had told him that if he would be very, very good she would get his father to give him a quarter, so that he could buy two packs of shooting-crackers, as well as five cents' worth of powder for the fourth. but she put her arms around him and hugged him up to her and kissed his head and said: "you'll be very careful, pony, won't you? you're all the little boy we've got, and if anything should happen to you--" she seemed to be almost crying, and pony laughed and said: "why, nothing could happen to you with shooting-crackers"; and she could have the powder to keep for him; and he would just make a snake with it fourth of july night; put it around through the grass, loose, and then light one end of it, and she would see how it would go off and not make the least noise. but she said she did not want to see it; only he must be careful; and she kissed him again and let him go, and when he got away he could see her wiping her eyes. it seemed to him that she was crying a good deal in those days, and he could not understand what it was about. she was scared at any little thing, and would whoop at the least noise, and when his father would say: "lucy, my dear girl!" she would burst out crying and say that she could not help it. but she got better and better to pony all the time, and it was this that now made him ashamed with jim leonard, because it made him not want to run off so much. he dug his toe into the turf in the court-house yard under the locust-tree, and did not say anything till jim leonard asked him if he was afraid to go off and live with the indians, because if he was going to be a cowardy-calf like that, it was all that jim leonard wanted to do with him. pony denied that he was afraid, but he said that he did not know how to talk indian, and he did not see how he was going to get along without. jim leonard laughed and said if that was all, he need not be anxious. "the indians don't talk at all, hardly, even among each other. they just make signs; didn't you know that? if you want something to eat you point to your mouth and chew; and if you want a drink, you open your mouth and keep swallowing. when you want to go to sleep you shut your eyes and lean your cheek over on your hand, this way. that's all the signs you need to begin with, and you'll soon learn the rest. now, say, are you going with the indians, or ain't you going? it's your only chance. why, pony, what are you afraid of? hain't you always wanted to sleep out-doors and not do anything but hunt?" pony had to confess that he had, and then jim leonard said: "well, then, that's what you'll do if you go with the indians. i suppose you'll have to go on the warpath with them when you get out there; and if it's against the whites you won't like it at first; but you've got to remember what the whites have done to the indians ever since they discovered america, and you'll soon get to feeling like an indian anyway. one thing is, you've got to get over being afraid." that made pony mad, and he said: "i ain't afraid now." "i know that," said jim leonard. "but what i mean is, that if you get hurt you mustn't hollo, or cry, or anything; and even when they're scalping you, you mustn't even make a face, so as to let them know that you feel it." by this time some of the other fellows began to come around to hear what jim leonard was saying to pony. a good many of the indians had gone off anyway, for the people had stopped sticking quarters into the ground for them to shoot at, and they could not shoot at nothing. jim leonard saw the fellows crowding around, but he went on as if he did not notice them. "you've got to go without eating anything for weeks when the medicine-man tells you to; and when you come back from the warpath, and they have a scalp-dance, you've got to keep dancing till you drop in a fit. when they give a dog feast you must eat dog stew until you can't swallow another mouthful, and you'll be so full that you'll just have to lay around for days without moving. but the great thing is to bear any kind of pain without budging or saying a single word. maybe you're used to holloing now when you get hurt?" pony confessed that he holloed a little; the others tried to look as if they never holloed at all, and jim leonard went on: "well, you've got to stop that. if an arrow was to go through you and stick out at your back, or anywhere, you must just reach around and pull it out and not speak. when you're having the sun-dance--i think it's the sun-dance, but i ain't really certain--you have to stick a hook through you, right here"--he grabbed pony by the muscles on his shoulders--"and let them pull you up on a pole and hang there as long as they please. they'll let you practise gradually so that you won't mind hardly anything. why, i've practised a good deal by myself, and now i've got so that i believe if you was to stick me with--" all of a sudden something whizzed along the ground and jim leonard stooped over and caught one of his feet up in his hand, and began to cry and to hollo: "oh, oh, oh! ow, ow, ow! oh, my foot! oh, it's broken; i know it is! oh, run for the doctor, do, pony baker! i know i'm going to die! oh, dear, oh dear, oh dear!" all the boys came crowding around to see what the matter was, and the men came, too, and pretty soon some one found an arrow in the grass, and then they knew that it was a stray arrow that had hit jim leonard on the side of the foot, after missing one of the dimes that was stuck in the ground. it was blunt, and it had not hurt him that anybody could see, except rubbed the skin off a little on the ankle-bone. but jim leonard began to limp away towards home, and now, as the indians had all gone back to their boats, and the fellows had nothing else to do, they went along with him. archy hawkins held him up on one side, and hen billard on the other, and archy said, "i tell you, when i heard jim yell, i thought it was a real indian," and hen said: "i thought it was the scalp-halloo." archy said, "the way i came to think it was a real indian was that a real indian never makes any noise when he's hurt," and hen said: "i thought it was the scalp-halloo, because jim was stooping over as if he was tearing the scalp off of a white man. he's been practising, you know." "well, practice makes perfect. i reckon if jim hasn't got so far that he would smile when you scalped him, or just laugh if you shot an arrow through him, or would let you stick a hook into him, and pull him up to the top of a pole, it's because he's begun at the other end. i'll bet he could eat himself full of dog stew, and lay around three days without stirring." jim leonard thought the fellows had come along to pity him and help him; but when he heard archy hawkins say that, and hen billard began to splutter and choke with the laugh he was holding in, he flung them off and began to fight at them with his fists, and strike right and left blindly. he broke out crying, and then the fellows made a ring around him and danced and mocked him. "hey, jim, what'd you do if they pulled your hair out?" "jimmy, oh, jim! would you hollo much louder if they tomahawked you?" "show your uncle how to dance till you drop, jim." they kept on till jim leonard picked up stones to stone them, and then they all ran away, jumping and jeering till they got out of sight. it was about dinner-time, anyway. no one was left but pony baker. he stooped down over jim when he sat crying over his foot. "does it hurt you much, jimmy?" he asked. "yes, it hurts dreadfully, pony. the skin's all rubbed off. i'm afraid it's broken my leg." "well, let me help you home," said pony. "your mother can tie it up, then." he made jim lean on him, and keep trying his foot, and pretty soon they found he could walk with it nearly the same as the other foot, and before they got to jim's house they were talking and laughing together. after that, pony baker gave up running off to the indians. he about gave up running off altogether. he had a splendid fourth of july. his mother would not let him stay up the whole of the night before, but she let him get up at four o'clock, and fire off both his packs of shooting-crackers; and though she had forbidden him to go down to the river-bank where the men were firing off the cannon, he hardly missed it. he felt sleepy as soon as his crackers were done, and another fellow who was with him came into the parlor, and they both lay down on the carpet and went to sleep there, and slept till breakfast-time. after breakfast he went up to the court-house yard, with some other fellows, and then, after dinner, when they all came round and begged, and the big fellows promised to watch out for pony, his mother let him go out to the second lock with them, and go in swimming in the canal. he did not know why this should be such a great privilege, but it was. he had never been out to the second lock before. it was outside of the corporation line, and that was a great thing in itself. after supper, pony's mother let him fire off his powder-snake, and she even came out and looked at it, with her fingers in her ears. he promised her that it wouldn't make any noise, but she could not believe him; and when the flash came, she gave a little whoop, and ran in-doors. it shamed him before the boys, for fear they would laugh; and she acted even worse when his father wished to let him go up to the court-house yard to see the fireworks. a lot of the fellows were going, and he was to go with the crowd, but his father was to come a little behind, so as to see that nothing happened to him; and when they were just starting off what should she do but hollo to his father from the door where she was standing, "do be careful of the child, henry!" it did not seem as if she could be a good mother when she tried, and she was about the afraidest mother in the boy's town. all the way up to the court-house the boys kept snickering and whispering, "don't stump your toe, child," and "be careful of the child, boys," and things like that till pony had to fight some of them. then they stopped. they were afraid his father would hear, anyway. but the fireworks were splendid, and the fellows were very good to pony, because his father stood in the middle of the crowd and treated them to lemonade, and they did not plague, any more, going home. it was ten o'clock when pony got home; it was the latest he had ever been up. the very fourth of july before that one he had been up pretty nearly as late listening to his cousin, frank baker, telling about the fun he had been having at a place called pawpaw bottom; and the strange thing that happened there, if it did happen, for nobody could exactly find out. so i think i had better break off again from pony, and say what it was that frank told; and after that i can go on with pony's running off. vii how frank baker spent the fourth at pawpaw bottom, and saw the fourth of july boy it was the morning of the fourth, and frank was so anxious to get through with his wood-sawing, and begin celebrating with the rest of the boys, that he hardly knew what to do. he had a levvy (as the old spanish _real_ used to be called in southern ohio) in his pocket, and he was going to buy a pack of shooting-crackers for ten cents, and spend the other two cents for powder. he had no pistol, but he knew a fellow that would lend him his pistol part of the time, and he expected to have about the best fourth he ever had. he had been up since three o'clock watching the men fire the old six-pounder on the river-bank; and he was going to get his mother to let him go up to the fireworks in the court-house yard after dark. but now it did not seem as if he could get wood enough sawed. twice he asked his mother if she thought he had enough, but she said "not near," and just as jake milrace rode up the saw caught in a splinter of the tough oak log frank was sawing and bumped back against frank's nose; and he would have cried if it had not been for what jake began to say. he said he was going to pawpaw bottom to spend the fourth at a fellow's named dave black, and he told frank he ought to go too; for there were plenty of mulberries on dave's father's farm, and the early apples were getting ripe enough to eat, if you pounded them on a rock; and you could go in swimming, and everything. jake said there was the greatest swimming-hole at pawpaw bottom you ever saw, and they had a log in the water there that you could have lots of fun with. frank ran into the house to ask his mother if he might go, and he hardly knew what to do when she asked him if there was wood enough yet to get dinner and supper. but his aunt manda was spending the summer with his mother, and she said she reckoned she could pick up chips to do all the cooking they needed, such a hot day; and frank ran out to the cow-house, where they kept the pony, because the bakers had no stable, and saddled him, and was off with jake milrace in about a minute. the pony was short and fat and lazy, and he had to be whipped to make him keep up with jake's horse. it was not exactly jake's horse; it was his sister's husband's horse, and he had let jake have it because he would not be using it himself on the fourth of july. it was tall and lean, and it held its head so high up that it was no use to pull on the bridle when it began to jump and turn round and round, which it did every time frank whipped his pony to keep even with jake. it would shy and sidle, and dart so far ahead that the pony would get discouraged and would lag back, and have to be whipped up again; and then the whole thing would have to be gone through with the same as at first. the boys did not have much chance to talk, but they had a splendid time riding along, and when they came to a cool, dark place in the woods they pretended there were indians; and at the same time they kept a sharp eye out for squirrels. if they had seen any, and had a gun with them, they could have shot one easily, for squirrels are not afraid of you when you are on horseback; and, as it was, jake milrace came pretty near killing a quail that they saw in the road by a wheat-field. he dropped his bridle and took aim with his forefinger, and pulled back his thumb like a trigger; and if his horse had not jumped, and his finger had been loaded, he would surely have killed the quail, it was so close to him. they could hear the bob-whites whistling all through the stubble and among the shocks of wheat. jake did not know just where dave black's farm was, but after a while they came to a blacksmith's shop, and the blacksmith told them to take a lane that they would come to on the left, and then go through a piece of woods and across a field till they came to a creek; then ford the creek and keep straight on, and they would be in sight of the house. it did not seem strange to frank that they should be going to visit a boy without knowing where he lived, but afterwards he was not surprised when dave black's folks did not appear to expect them. they kept on, and did as the blacksmith told them, and soon enough they got to a two-story log-cabin, with a man in front of it working at a wheat-fan, for it was nearly time to thresh the wheat. the man said he was dave black's father; he did not act as if he was very glad to see them, but he told them to put their horses in the barn, and he said that dave was out in the pasture hauling rails. frank thought that was a queer way of spending the fourth of july, but he did not say anything, and on their way out to the pasture jake explained that dave's father was british, and did not believe much in the fourth of july, anyway. they found dave easily enough, and he answered jake's "hello!" with another when the boys came up. he had a two-horse wagon, and he was loading it with rails from a big pile; there were two dogs with him, and when they saw the boys they came towards them snarling and ruffling the hair on their backs. jake said not to mind them--they would not bite; but they snuffed so close to frank's bare legs that he wished dave would call them off. they slunk away, though, when they heard him speak to the boys; and then jake milrace told dave black who frank was, and they began to feel acquainted, especially when jake said they had come to spend the fourth of july with dave. he said, "first rate," and he explained that he had his foot tied up the way they saw because he had a stone-bruise which he had got the first day he began to go barefoot in the spring; but now it was better. he said there was a bully swimming-hole in the creek, and he would show them where it was as soon as he had got done hauling his rails. the boys took that for a kind of hint, and they pulled off their roundabouts and set to work with him. frank thought it was not exactly like the fourth, but he did not say anything, and they kept loading up the rails and hauling them to the edge of the field where dave's father was going to build the fence, and then unloading them, and going back to the pile for more. it seemed to frank that there were about a thousand rails in that pile, and they were pretty heavy ones--oak and hickory and walnut--and you had to be careful how you handled them, or you would get your hands stuck full of splinters. he wondered what jake milrace was thinking, and whether it was the kind of fourth he had expected to have; but jake did not say anything, and he hated to ask him. sometimes it appeared to frank that sawing wood was nothing to it; but they kept on loading rails, and unloading them in piles about ten feet apart, where they were wanted; and then going back to the big pile for more. they worked away in the blazing sun till the sweat poured off their faces, and frank kept thinking what a splendid time the fellows were having with pistols and shooting-crackers up in the boy's town; but still he did not say anything, and pretty soon he had his reward. when they got half down through the rail-pile they came to a bumblebees' nest, which the dogs thought was a rat-hole at first. one of them poked his nose into it, but he pulled it out quicker than wink and ran off howling and pawing his face and rubbing his head in the ground or against the boys' legs. even when the dogs found out that it was not rats they did not show any sense. as soon as they rubbed a bee off they would come yelping and howling back for more; and hopping round and barking; and then when they got another bee, or maybe a half-dozen (for the bees did not always fight fair), they would streak off again and jump into the air, and roll on the ground till the boys almost killed themselves laughing. the boys went into the woods, and got pawpaw branches, and came back and fought the bumblebees till they drove them off. it was just like the battle of bunker hill; but frank did not say so, because dave's father was british, till dave said it himself, and then they all pretended the bees were mexicans; it was just a little while after the mexican war. when they drove the bees off, they dug their nest out; it was beautifully built in regular cells of gray paper, and there was a little honey in it; about a spoonful for each boy. frank was glad that he had not let out his disappointment with the kind of fourth they were having; and just then the horn sounded from the house for dinner, and the boys all got into the wagon, and rattled off to the barn. they put out the horses and fed them, and as soon as they could wash themselves at the rain-barrel behind the house, they went in and sat down with the family at dinner. it was a farmer's dinner, as it used to be in southern ohio fifty years ago: a deep dish of fried salt pork swimming in its own fat, plenty of shortened biscuit and warm green-apple sauce, with good butter. the boy's town boys did not like the looks of the fat pork, but they were wolf-hungry, and the biscuit were splendid. in the middle of the table there was a big crock of buttermilk, all cold and dripping from the spring-house where it had been standing in the running water; then there was a hot apple-pie right out of the oven; and they made a pretty fair meal, after all. after dinner they hauled more rails, and when they had hauled all the rails there were, they started for the swimming-hole in the creek. on the way they came to a mulberry-tree in the edge of the woods-pasture, and it was so full of berries and they were so ripe that the grass which the cattle had cropped short was fairly red under the tree. the boys got up into the tree and gorged themselves among the yellow-hammers and woodpeckers; and frank and jake kept holloing out to each other how glad they were they had come; but dave kept quiet, and told them to wait till they came to the swimming-hole. it was while they were in the tree that something happened which happened four times in all that day, if it really happened: nobody could say afterwards whether it had or not. frank was reaching out for a place in the tree where the berries seemed thicker than anywhere else, when a strong blaze of light flashed into his eyes, and blinded him. "oh, hello, dave black!" he holloed. "that's mean! what are you throwin' that light in my face for?" but he laughed at the joke, and he laughed more when dave shouted back, "i ain't throwin' no light in your face." "yes, you are; you've got a piece of look-in'-glass, and you're flashin' it in my face." "wish i may die, if i have," said dave, so seriously that frank had to believe him. "well, then, jake milrace has." "i hain't, any such thing," said jake, and then dave black roared back, laughing: "oh, i'll tell you! it's one of the pieces of tin we strung along that line in the corn-field to keep the crows off, corn-plantin' time." the boys shouted together at the joke on frank, and dave parted the branches for a better look at the corn-field. "well, well! heigh there!" he called towards the field. "oh, he's gone now!" he said to the other boys, craning their necks out to see, too. "but he _was_ doing it, frank. if i could ketch that feller!" "somebody you know? let's get him to come along," said jake and frank, one after the other. "i couldn't tell," said dave. "he slipped into the woods when he heard me holler. if it's anybody i know, he'll come out again. don't seem to notice him; that's the best way." for a while, though, they stopped to look, now and then; but no more flashes came from the corn-field, and the boys went on cramming themselves with berries; they all said they had got to stop, but they went on till dave said: "i don't believe it's going to do us any good to go in swimming if we eat too many of these mulberries. i reckon we better quit, now." the others said they reckoned so, too, and they all got down from the tree, and started for the swimming-hole. they had to go through a piece of woods to get to it, and in the shadow of the trees they did not notice that a storm was coming up till they heard it thunder. by that time they were on the edge of the woods, and there came a flash of lightning and a loud thunder-clap, and the rain began to fall in big drops. the boys saw a barn in the field they had reached, and they ran for it; and they had just got into it when the rain came down with all its might. suddenly jake said: "i'll tell you what! let's take off our clothes and have a shower-bath!" and in less than a minute they had their clothes off, and were out in the full pour, dancing up and down, and yelling like indians. that made them think of playing indians, and they pretended the barn was a settler's cabin, and they were stealing up on it through the tall shocks of wheat. they captured it easily, and they said if the lightning would only strike it and set it on fire so it would seem as if the indians had done it, it would be great; but the storm was going round, and they had to be satisfied with being settlers, turn about, and getting scalped. it was easy to scalp frank, because he wore his hair long, as the town boys liked to do in those days, but jake lived with his sister, and he had to do as she said. she said a boy had no business with long hair; and she had lately cropped his close to his skull. dave's father cut his hair round the edges of a bowl, which he had put on dave's head for a pattern; the other boys could get a pretty good grip of it, if they caught it on top, where the scalp-lock belongs; but dave would duck and dodge so that they could hardly get their hands on it. all at once they heard him call out from around the corner of the barn, where he had gone to steal up on them, when it was their turn to be settlers: "aw, now, jake milrace, that ain't fair! i'm an indian, now. you let go my hair." "who's touchin' your old hair?" jake shouted back, from the inside of the barn. "you must be crazy. hurry up, if you're ever goin' to attack us. i want to get out in the rain, myself, awhile." frank was outside, pretending to be at work in the field, and waiting for the indians to creep on him, and when jake shouted for dave to hurry, he looked over his shoulder and saw a white figure, naked like his own, flit round the left-hand corner of the barn. then he had to stoop over, so that dave could tomahawk him easily, and he did not see anything more, but jake yelled from the barn: "oh, you got that fellow with you, have you? then he's got to be settler next time. come on, now. oh, do hurry up!" frank raised his head to see the other boy, but there was only dave black, coming round the right-hand corner of the barn. "you're crazy yourself, jake. there ain't nobody here but me and frank." "there is, too!" jake retorted. "or there was, half a second ago." but dave was busy stealing on frank, who was bending over, pretending to hoe, and after he had tomahawked frank, he gave the scalp-halloo, and jake came running out of the barn, and had to be chased round it twice, so that he could fall breathless on his own threshold, and be scalped in full sight of his family. then dave pretended to be a war-party of wyandots, and he gathered up sticks, and pretended to set the barn on fire. by this time frank and jake had come to life, and were wyandots, too, and they all joined hands and danced in front of the barn. "there! there he is again!" shouted jake. "who's crazy _now_, i should like to know?" "where? where?" yelled both the other boys. "there! right in the barn door. or he _was_, quarter of a second ago," said jake, and they all dropped one another's hands, and rushed into the barn and began to search it. they could not find anybody, and dave black said: "well, he's the quickest feller! must 'a' got up into the mow, and jumped out of the window, and broke for the woods while we was lookin' down here. but if i get my hands onto him, oncet!" they all talked and shouted and quarrelled and laughed at once; but they had to give the other fellow up; he had got away for that time, and they ran out into the rain again to let it wash off the dust and chaff, which they had got all over them in their search. the rain felt so good and cool that they stood still and took it without playing any more, and talked quietly. dave decided that the fellow who had given them the slip was a new boy whose folks had come into the neighborhood since school had let out in the spring, so that he had not got acquainted yet; but dave allowed that he would teach him a few tricks as good as his own when he got at him. the storm left a solid bank of clouds in the east for a while after it was all blue in the western half of the sky, and a rainbow came out against the clouds. it looked so firm and thick that dave said you could cut it with a scythe. it seemed to come solidly down to the ground in the woods in front of the hay-mow window, and the boys said it would be easy to get the crock of gold at the end of it if they were only in the woods. "i'll bet that feller's helpin' himself," said dave, and they began to wonder how many dollars a crock of gold was worth, anyhow; they decided about a million. then they wondered how much of a crock full of gold a boy could get into his pockets; and they all laughed when jake said he reckoned it would depend upon the size of the crock. "i don't believe that fellow could carry much of it away if he hain't got more on than he had in front of the barn." that put frank in mind of the puzzle about the three men that found a treasure in the road when they were travelling together: the blind man saw it, and the man without arms picked it up, and the naked man put it in his pocket. it was the first time dave had heard the puzzle, and he asked, "well, what's the answer?" but before frank could tell him, jake started up and pointed to the end of the rainbow, where it seemed to go into the ground against the woods. "oh! look! look!" he panted out, and they all looked, but no one could see anything except jake. it made him mad. "why, you must be blind!" he shouted, and he kept pointing. "don't you see him? there, there! oh, now, the rainbow's going out, and you can't see him any more. he's gone into the woods again. well, i don't know what your eyes are good for, anyway." he tried to tell them what he had seen; he could only make out that it must be the same boy, but now he had his clothes on: white linen pantaloons and roundabout, like what you had on may day, or the fourth if you were going to the sunday-school picnic. dave wanted him to tell what he looked like, but jake could not say anything except that he was very smiling-looking, and seemed as if he would like to be with him; jake said he was just going to hollo for him to come over when the rainbow began to go out; and then the fellow slipped back into the woods; it was more like melting into the woods. "and how far off do you think you could see a boy smile?" dave asked, scornfully. "how far off can you say a rainbow is?" jake retorted. "i can say how far off that piece of woods is," said dave, with a laugh. he got to his feet, and began to pull at the other boys, to make them get up. "come along, if you're ever goin' to the swimmin'-hole." [illustration: "very smiling-looking"] the sun was bright and hot, and the boys left the barn, and took across the field to the creek. the storm must have been very heavy, for the creek was rushing along bank-full, and there was no sign left of dave's swimming-hole. but they had had such a glorious shower-bath that they did not want to go in swimming, anyway, and they stood and watched the yellow water pouring over the edge of a mill-dam that was there, till dave happened to think of building a raft and going out on the dam. jake said, "first rate!" and they all rushed up to a place where there were some boards on the bank; and they got pieces of old rope at the mill, and tied the boards together, till they had a good raft, big enough to hold them, and then they pushed it into the water and got on it. they said they were on the ohio river, and going from cincinnati to louisville. dave had a long pole to push with, like the boatmen on the keel-boats in the early times, and jake had a board to steer with; frank had another board to paddle with, on the other side of the raft from dave; and so they set on their journey. the dam was a wide, smooth sheet of water, with trees growing round the edge, and some of them hanging so low over it that they almost touched it. the boys made trips back and forth across the dam, and to and from the edge of the fall, till they got tired of it, and they were wanting something to happen, when dave stuck his pole deep into the muddy bottom, and set his shoulder hard against the top of the pole, with a "here she goes, boys, over the falls of the ohio!" and he ran along the edge of the raft from one end to the other. frank and dave had both straightened up to watch him. at the stern of the raft dave tried to pull up his pole for another good push, but it stuck fast in the mud at the bottom of the dam, and before dave knew what he was about, the raft shot from under his feet, and he went overboard with his pole in his hand, as if he were taking a flying leap with it. the next minute he dropped into the water heels first, and went down out of sight. he came up blowing water from his mouth, and holloing and laughing, and took after the raft, where the other fellows were jumping up and down, and bending back and forth, and screaming and yelling at the way he looked hurrying after his pole, and then dangling in the air, and now showing his black head in the water like a musk-rat swimming for its hole. they were having such a good time mocking him that they did not notice how his push had sent the raft swiftly in under the trees by the shore, and the first thing they knew, one of the low branches caught them, and scraped them both off the raft into the water, almost on top of dave. then it was dave's turn to laugh, and he began: "what's the matter, boys? want to help find the other end of that pole?" jake was not under the water any longer than dave had been, but frank did not come up so soon. they looked among the brush by the shore, to see if he was hiding there and fooling them, but they could not find him. "he's stuck in some snag at the bottom," said dave; "we got to dive for him"; but just then frank came up, and swam feebly for the shore. he crawled out of the water, and after he got his breath, he said, "i got caught, down there, in the top of an old tree." "didn't i tell you so?" dave shouted into jake's ear. "why, jake was there till i got loose," said frank, looking stupidly at him. "no, i wasn't," said jake. "i was up long ago, and i was just goin' to dive for you; so was dave." "then it was that other fellow," said frank. "i thought it didn't look overmuch like jake, anyway." "oh, pshaw!" dave jeered. "how could you tell, in that muddy water?" "i don't know," frank answered. "it was all light round him. looked like he had a piece of the rainbow on him, or foxfire." "i reckon if i find him," said dave, "i'll take his piece of rainbow off'n him pretty quick. that's the fourth time that feller's fooled us to-day. where d'you s'pose he came up? oh, _i_ know! he got out on the other side under them trees, while we was huntin' for frank, and not noticin'. how'd he look, anyway?" "i don't know; i just saw him half a second. kind of smiling, and like he wanted to play." "well, i know him," said dave. "it's the new boy, and the next time i see him--oh, hello! there goes our raft!" it was drifting slowly down towards the edge of the dam, and the boys all three plunged into the water again, and swam out to it, and climbed up on it. they had the greatest kind of a time, and when they had played castaway sailors, frank and jake wanted to send the raft over the edge of the dam; but dave said it might get into the head-race of the mill and tangle itself up in the wheel, and spoil the wheel. so they took the raft apart and carried the boards on shore, and then tried to think what they would do next. the first thing was to take off their clothes and see about drying them. but they had no patience for that; and so they wrung them out as dry as they could and put them on again; they had left their roundabouts at dave's house, anyway, and so had nothing on but a shirt and trousers apiece. the sun was out hot after the rain, and their clothes were almost dry by the time they got to dave's house. they went with him to the woods-pasture on the way, and helped him drive home the cows, and they wanted him to get his mother to make his father let him go up to the boy's town with them and see the fireworks; but he said it would be no use; and then they understood that if a man was british, of course he would not want his boy to celebrate the fourth of july by going to the fireworks. they felt sorry for dave, but they both told him that they had had more fun than they ever had in their lives before, and they were coming the next fourth and going to bring their guns with them. then they could shoot quails or squirrels, if they saw any, and the firing would celebrate the fourth at the same time, and his father could not find any fault. it seemed to frank that it was awful to have a father that was british; but when they got to dave's house, and his father asked them how they had spent the afternoon, he did not seem to be so very bad. he asked them whether they had got caught in the storm, and if that was what made their clothes wet, and when they told him what had happened, he sat down on the wood-pile and laughed till he shook all over. then frank and jake thought they had better be going home, but dave's mother would not let them start without something to eat; and she cut them each a slice of bread the whole width and length of the loaf, and spread the slices with butter, and then apple-butter, and then brown sugar. the boys thought they were not hungry, but when they began to eat they found out that they were, and before they knew it they had eaten the slices all up. dave's mother said they must come and see dave again some time, and she acted real clever; she was an american, anyway. they got their horses and started home. it was almost sundown now, and they heard the turtle-doves cooing in the woods, and the bob-whites whistling from the stubble, and there were so many squirrels among the trees in the woods-pastures, and on the fences, that frank could hardly get jake along; and if it had not been for jake's horse, that ran whenever frank whipped up his pony, they would not have got home till dark. they smelt ham frying in some of the houses they passed, and that made them awfully hungry; one place there was coffee, too. when they reached frank's house he found that his mother had kept supper hot for him, and she came out and said jake must come in with him, if his family would not be uneasy about him; and jake said he did not believe they would. he tied his horse to the outside of the cow-house, and he came in, and frank's mother gave them as much baked chicken as they could hold, with hot bread to sop in the gravy; and she had kept some coffee hot for frank, so that they made another good meal. they told her what a bully time they had had, and how they had fallen into the dam; but she did not seem to think it was funny; she said it was a good thing they were not all drowned, and she believed they had taken their deaths of cold, anyway. frank was afraid she was going to make him go up stairs and change his clothes, when he heard the boys begin to sound their call of "ee-o-wee" at the front door, and he and jake snatched their hats and ran out. there was a lot of boys at the gate; hen billard was there, and archy hawkins and jim leonard; there were some little fellows, and frank's cousin pony was there; he said his mother had said he might stay till his father came for him. hen billard had his thumb tied up from firing too big a load out of his brass pistol. the pistol burst, and the barrel was all curled back like a dandelion stem in water; he had it in his pocket to show. archy hawkins's face was full of little blue specks from pouring powder on a coal and getting it flashed up into his face when he was blowing the coal; some of his eye-winkers were singed off. jim leonard had a rag round his hand, and he said a whole pack of shooting-crackers had gone off in it before he could throw them away, and burned the skin off; the fellows dared him to let them see it, but he would not; and then they mocked him. they all said there had never been such a fourth of july in the boy's town before; and frank and jake let them brag as much as they wanted to, and when the fellows got tired, and asked them what they had done at pawpaw bottom, and they said, "oh, nothing much; just helped dave black haul rails," they set up a jeer that you could hear a mile. then jake said, as if he just happened to think of it, "and fought bumblebees." and frank put in, "and took a shower-bath in the thunder-storm." and jake said, "and eat mulberries." and frank put in again, "and built a raft." and jake said, "and dave got pulled into the mill-dam." and frank wound up, "and jake and i got swept overboard." by that time the fellows began to feel pretty small, and they crowded round and wanted to hear every word about it. then jake and frank tantalized them, and said of course it was no fourth at all, it was only just fun, till the fellows could not stand it any longer, and then frank jumped up from where he was sitting on his front steps, and holloed out, "i'll show you how dave looked when his pole pulled him in," and he acted it all out about dave's pole pulling him into the water. jake waited till he was done, and then he jumped up and said, "i'll show you how frank and me looked when we got swept overboard," and he acted it out about the limb of the tree scraping them off the raft while they were laughing at dave and not noticing. as soon as they got the boys to yelling, jake and frank both showed how they fought the bumblebees, and how the dogs got stung, and ran round trying to rub the bees off against the ground, and your legs, and everything, till the boys fell down and rolled over, it made them laugh so. jake and frank showed how they ran out into the rain from the barn, and stood in it, and told how good and cool it felt; and they told about sitting up in the mulberry-tree, and how twenty boys could not have made the least hole in the berries. they told about the quails and the squirrels; and they showed how frank had to keep whipping up his pony, and how jake's horse kept wheeling and running away; and some of the fellows said they were going with them the next fourth. hen billard tried to turn it off, and said: "pshaw! you can have that kind of a fourth any day in the country. who's going up to the court-house yard to see the fireworks?" he and archy hawkins and the big boys ran off, whooping, and the little fellows felt awfully, because their mothers had said they must not go. just then, pony baker's father came for him, and he said he guessed they could see the fireworks from frank's front steps; and jake stayed with frank, and frank's father came out, and his aunt and mother leaned out of the window, and watched, while the roman candles shot up, and the rockets climbed among the stars. they were all so much taken up in watching that they did not notice one of the neighbor women who had come over from her house and joined them, till mrs. baker happened to see her, and called out: "why, mrs. fogle, where did you spring from? do come in here with manda and me. i didn't see you, in your black dress." "no, i'm going right back," said mrs. fogle. "i just come over a minute to see the fireworks--for wilford; you can't see them from my side." "oh," said mrs. baker, softly. "well, i'm real glad you came. you ought to have heard the boys, here, telling about the kind of fourth they had at pawpaw bottom. i don't know when i've laughed so much." "well, i reckon it's just as well i wasn't here. i couldn't have helped in the laughing much. it seems pretty hard my wilford couldn't been having a good time with the rest to-day. he was always such a fourth-of-july boy." "but he's happy where he is, mrs. fogle," said mrs. baker, gently. "well, i know he'd give anything to been here with the boys to-day--i don't care where he is. and he's been here, _too_; i just know he has; i've felt him, all day long, teasing at me to let him go off with your frank and jake, here; he just fairly loved to be with them, and he never done any harm. oh, my, my! i don't see how i used to deny him." she put up her apron to her face, and ran sobbing across the street again to her own house; they heard the door close after her in the dark. "i declare," said mrs. baker, "i've got half a mind to go over to her." "better not," said pony baker's father. "well, i reckon you're right, henry," mrs. baker assented. they did not talk gayly any more; when the last rocket had climbed the sky, jake milrace rose and said in a whisper he must be going. after he was gone, frank told, as if he had just thought of it, about the boy that had fooled them so, at pawpaw bottom; and he was surprised at the way his mother and his uncle henry questioned him up about it. "well, now," she said, "i'm glad poor mrs. fogle wasn't here, or--" she stopped, and her brother-in-law rose, with the hand of his sleepy little son in his own. "i think pony had better say good-night now, while he can. frank, you've had a remarkable fourth. good-night, all. i wish i had spent the day at pawpaw bottom myself." before they slept that night, pony's mother said: "well, i'd just as soon you'd kept that story to yourself till morning, henry. i shall keep thinking about it, and not sleep a wink. how in the world do you account for it?" "i don't account for it," said pony's father. "now, that won't do! what do you think?" "well, if it was _one_ boy that saw the fourth boy it might be a simple case of lying." "frank baker never told a lie in his life. he couldn't." "perhaps jake could, or dave. but as they all three saw the boy at different times, why, it's--" "what?" "it's another thing." "now, you can't get out of it that way, henry. do you believe that the child longed so to be back here that--" "ah, who knows? there's something very strange about all that. but we can't find our way out, except by the short-cut of supposing that nothing of the kind happened." "you can't suppose that, though, if all three of the boys say it did." "i can suppose that they think it happened, or made each other think so." pony's mother drew a long sigh. "well, i know what _i_ shall always think," she said. viii how pony baker came pretty near running off with a circus just before the circus came, about the end of july, something happened that made pony mean to run off more than anything that ever was. his father and mother were coming home from a walk, in the evening; it was so hot nobody could stay in the house, and just as they were coming to the front steps pony stole up behind them and tossed a snowball which he had got out of the garden at his mother, just for fun. the flower struck her very softly on her hair, for she had no bonnet on, and she gave a jump and a hollo that made pony laugh; and then she caught him by the arm and boxed his ears. "oh, my goodness! it was you, was it, you good-for-nothing boy? i thought it was a bat!" she said, and she broke out crying and ran into the house, and would not mind his father, who was calling after her, "lucy, lucy, my dear child!" pony was crying, too, for he did not intend to frighten his mother, and when she took his fun as if he had done something wicked he did not know what to think. he stole off to bed and he lay there crying in the dark and expecting that she would come to him, as she always did, to have him say that he was sorry when he had been wicked, or to tell him that she was sorry, when she thought she had not been quite fair with him. but she did not come, and after a good while his father came and said: "are you awake, pony? i am sorry your mother misunderstood your fun. but you mustn't mind it, dear boy. she's not well, and she's very nervous." "i don't care!" pony sobbed out. "she won't have a chance to touch me again!" for he had made up his mind to run off with the circus which was coming the next tuesday. he turned his face away, sobbing, and his father, after standing by his bed a moment, went away without saying anything but, "don't forget your prayers, pony. you'll feel differently in the morning, i hope." pony fell asleep thinking how he would come back to the boy's town with the circus when he was grown up, and when he came out in the ring riding three horses bareback he would see his father and mother and sisters in one of the lower seats. they would not know him, but he would know them, and he would send for them to come to the dressing-room, and would be very good to them, all but his mother; he would be very cold and stiff with her, though he would know that she was prouder of him than all the rest put together, and she would go away almost crying. he began being cold and stiff with her the very next morning, although she was better than ever to him, and gave him waffles for breakfast with unsalted butter, and tried to pet him up. that whole day she kept trying to do things for him, but he would scarcely speak to her; and at night she came to him and said, "what makes you act so strangely, pony? are you offended with your mother?" "yes, i am!" said pony, haughtily, and he twitched away from where she was sitting on the side of his bed, leaning over him. "on account of last night, pony?" she asked, softly. "i reckon you know well enough," said pony, and he tried to be disgusted with her for her being such a hypocrite, but he had to set his teeth hard, hard, or he would have broken down crying. "if it's for that, you mustn't, pony, dear. you don't know how you frightened me. when your snowball hit me, i felt sure it was a bat, and i'm so afraid of bats, you know. i didn't mean to hurt my poor boy's feelings so, and you mustn't mind it any more, pony." [illustration: "he began being cold and stiff with her the very next morning"] she stooped down and kissed him on the forehead, but he did not move or say anything; only, after that he felt more forgiving towards his mother. he made up his mind to be good to her along with the rest when he came back with the circus. but still he meant to run off with the circus. he did not see how he could do anything else, for he had told all the boys that day that he was going to do it; and when they just laughed, and said: "oh yes. think you can fool your grandmother! it'll be like running off with the indians," pony wagged his head, and said they would see whether it would or not, and offered to bet them what they dared. the morning of the circus day all the fellows went out to the corporation line to meet the circus procession. there were ladies and knights, the first thing, riding on spotted horses; and then a band chariot, all made up of swans and dragons. there were about twenty baggage wagons; but before you got to them there was the greatest thing of all. it was a chariot drawn by twelve shetland ponies, and it was shaped like a big shell, and around in the bottom of the shell there were little circus actors, boys and girls, dressed in their circus clothes, and they all looked exactly like fairies. they scarce seemed to see the fellows, as they ran alongside of their chariot, but hen billard and archy hawkins, who were always cutting up, got close enough to throw some peanuts to the circus boys, and some of the little circus girls laughed, and the driver looked around and cracked his whip at the fellows, and they all had to get out of the way then. jim leonard said that the circus boys and girls were all stolen, and nobody was allowed to come close to them for fear they would try to send word to their friends. some of the fellows did not believe it, and wanted to know how he knew it; and he said he read it in a paper; after that nobody could deny it. but he said that if you went with the circus men of your own free will they would treat you first-rate; only they would give you burnt brandy to keep you little; nothing else but burnt brandy would do it, but that would do it, sure. pony was scared at first when he heard that most of the circus fellows were stolen, but he thought if he went of his own accord he would be all right. still, he did not feel so much like running off with the circus as he did before the circus came. he asked jim leonard whether the circus men made all the children drink burnt brandy; and archy hawkins and hen billard heard him ask, and began to mock him. they took him up between them, one by his arms and the other by the legs, and ran along with him, and kept saying, "does it want to be a great big circus actor? then it shall, so it shall," and, "we'll tell the circus men to be very careful of you, pony dear!" till pony wriggled himself loose and began to stone them. after that they had to let him alone, for when a fellow began to stone you in the boy's town you had to let him alone, unless you were going to whip him, and the fellows only wanted to have a little fun with pony. but what they did made him all the more resolved to run away with the circus, just to show them. he helped to carry water for the circus men's horses, along with the boys who earned their admission that way. he had no need to do it, because his father was going to take him in, anyway; but jim leonard said it was the only way to get acquainted with the circus men. still pony was afraid to speak to them, and he would not have said a word to any of them if it had not been for one of them speaking to him first, when he saw him come lugging a great pail of water, and bending far over on the right to balance it. "that's right," the circus man said to pony. "if you ever fell into that bucket you'd drown, sure." he was a big fellow, with funny eyes, and he had a white bulldog at his heels; and all the fellows said he was the one who guarded the outside of the tent when the circus began, and kept the boys from hooking in under the curtain. even then pony would not have had the courage to say anything, but jim leonard was just behind him with another bucket of water, and he spoke up for him. "he wants to go with the circus." they both set down their buckets, and pony felt himself turning pale when the circus man came towards them. "wants to go with the circus, heigh? let's have a look at you." he took pony by the shoulders and turned him slowly round, and looked at his nice clothes, and took him by the chin. "orphan?" he asked. pony did not know what to say, but jim leonard nodded; perhaps he did not know what to say, either; but pony felt as if they had both told a lie. "parents living?" the circus man looked at pony, and pony had to say that they were. he gasped out, "yes," so that you could scarcely hear him, and the circus man said: "well, that's right. when we take an orphan, we want to have his parents living, so that we can go and ask them what sort of a boy he is." he looked at pony in such a friendly, smiling way that pony took courage to ask him whether they would want him to drink burnt brandy. "what for?" "to keep me little." "oh, i see." the circus man took off his hat and rubbed his forehead with a silk handkerchief, which he threw into the top of his hat before he put it on again. "no, i don't know as we will. we're rather short of giants just now. how would you like to drink a glass of elephant milk every morning and grow into an eight-footer?" pony said he didn't know whether he would like to be quite so big; and then the circus man said perhaps he would rather go for an india-rubber man; that was what they called the contortionists in those days. "let's feel of you again." the circus man took hold of pony and felt his joints. "you're put together pretty tight; but i reckon we could make you do if you'd let us take you apart with a screw-driver and limber up the pieces with rattlesnake oil. wouldn't like it, heigh? well, let me see!" the circus man thought a moment, and then he said: "how would double-somersaults on four horses bareback do?" pony said that would do, and then the circus man said: "well, then, we've just hit it, because our double-somersault, four-horse bareback is just going to leave us, and we want a new one right away. now, there's more than one way of joining a circus, but the best way is to wait on your front steps with your things all packed up, and the procession comes along at about one o'clock in the morning and picks you up. which'd you rather do?" pony pushed his toe into the turf, as he always did when he was ashamed, but he made out to say he would rather wait out on the front steps. "well, then, that's all settled," said the circus man. "we'll be along," and he was going away with his dog, but jim leonard called after him: "you hain't asked him whereabouts he lives." the circus man kept on, and he said, without looking around, "oh, that's all right. we've got somebody that looks after that." "it's the magician," jim leonard whispered to pony, and they walked away. ix how pony did not quite get off with the circus a crowd of the fellows had been waiting to know what the boys had been talking about to the circus man; but jim leonard said: "don't you tell, pony baker!" and he started to run, and that made pony run, too, and they both ran till they got away from the fellows. "you have got to keep it a secret; for if a lot of fellows find it out the constable'll get to know it, and he'll be watching out around the corner of your house, and when the procession comes along and he sees you're really going he'll take you up, and keep you in jail till your father comes and bails you out. now, you mind!" pony said, "oh, i won't tell anybody," and when jim leonard said that if a circus man was to feel _him_ over, that way, and act so kind of pleasant and friendly, he would be too proud to speak to anybody, pony confessed that he knew it was a great thing all the time. "the way'll be," said jim leonard, "to keep in with him, and he'll keep the others from picking on you; they'll be afraid to, on account of his dog. you'll see, he'll be the one to come for you to-night; and if the constable is there the dog won't let him touch you. i never thought of that." perhaps on account of thinking of it now jim leonard felt free to tell the other fellows how pony was going to run off, for when a crowd of them came along he told them. they said it was splendid, and they said that if they could make their mothers let them, or if they could get out of the house without their mothers knowing it, they were going to sit up with pony and watch out for the procession, and bid him good-bye. at dinner-time he found out that his father was going to take him and all his sisters to the circus, and his father and mother were so nice to him, asking him about the procession and everything, that his heart ached at the thought of running away from home and leaving them. but now he had to do it; the circus man was coming for him, and he could not back out; he did not know what would happen if he did. it seemed to him as if his mother had done everything she could to make it harder for him. she had stewed chicken for dinner, with plenty of gravy, and hot biscuits to sop in, and peach preserves afterwards; and she kept helping him to more, because she said boys that followed the circus around got dreadfully hungry. the eating seemed to keep his heart down; it was trying to get into his throat all the time; and he knew that she was being good to him, but if he had not known it he would have believed his mother was just doing it to mock him. pony had to go to the circus with his father and sisters, and to get on his shoes and a clean collar. but a crowd of the fellows were there at the tent door to watch out whether the circus man would say anything to him when he went in; and jim leonard rubbed up against him, when the man passed with his dog and did not even look at pony, and said: "he's just pretending. he don't want your father to know. he'll be round for you, sure. i saw him kind of smile to one of the other circus men." it was a splendid circus, and there were more things than pony ever saw in a circus before. but instead of hating to have it over, it seemed to him that it would never come to an end. he kept thinking and thinking, and wondering whether he would like to be a circus actor; and when the one came out who rode four horses bareback and stood on his head on the last horse, and drove with the reins in his teeth, pony thought that he never could learn to do it; and if he could not learn he did not know what the circus men would say to him. it seemed to him that it was very strange he had not told that circus man that he didn't know whether he could do it or not; but he had not, and now it was too late. a boy came around calling lemonade, and pony's father bought some for each of the children, but pony could hardly taste his. "what is the matter with you, pony? are you sick?" his father asked. "no. i don't care for any; that's all. i'm well," said pony; but he felt very miserable. after supper jim leonard came round and went up to pony's room with him to help him pack, and he was so gay about it and said he only wished _he_ was going, that pony cheered up a little. jim had brought a large square of checked gingham that he said he did not believe his mother would ever want, and that he would tell her he had taken if she asked for it. he said it would be the very thing for pony to carry his clothes in, for it was light and strong and would hold a lot. he helped pony to choose his things out of his bureau drawers: a pair of stockings and a pair of white pantaloons and a blue roundabout, and a collar, and two handkerchiefs. that was all he said pony would need, because he would have his circus clothes right away, and there was no use taking things that he would never wear. jim did these up in the square of gingham, and he tied it across cater-cornered twice, in double knots, and showed pony how he could put his hand through and carry it just as easy. he hid it under the bed for him, and he told pony that if he was in pony's place he should go to bed right away or pretty soon, so that nobody would think anything, and maybe he could get some sleep before he got up and went down to wait on the front steps for the circus to come along. he promised to be there with the other boys and keep them from fooling or making a noise, or doing anything to wake his father up, or make the constable come. "you see, pony," he said, "if you can run off this year, and come back with the circus next year, then a whole lot of fellows can run off. don't you see that?" pony said he saw that, but he said he wished some of the other fellows were going now, because he did not know any of the circus boys and he was afraid he might feel kind of lonesome. but jim leonard said he would soon get acquainted, and, anyway, a year would go before he knew it, and then if the other fellows could get off he would have plenty of company. as soon as jim leonard was gone pony undressed and got into bed. he was not sleepy, but he thought maybe it would be just as well to rest a little while before the circus procession came along for him; and, anyway, he could not bear to go down-stairs and be with the family when he was going to leave them so soon, and not come back for a whole year. after a good while, or about the time he usually came in from playing, he heard his mother saying: "where in the world is pony? has he come in yet? have you seen him, girls? pony! pony!" she called. but somehow pony could not get his voice up out of his throat; he wanted to answer her, but he could not speak. he heard her say, "go out to the front steps, girls, and see if you can see him," and then he heard her coming up the stairs; and she came into his room, and when she saw him lying there in bed she said: "why, i believe in my heart the child's asleep! pony! are you awake?" pony made out to say no, and his mother said: "my! what a fright you gave me! why didn't you answer me? are you sick, pony? your father said you didn't seem well at the circus; and you didn't eat any supper, hardly." pony said he was first-rate, but he spoke very low, and his mother came up and sat down on the side of his bed. "what is the matter, child?" she bent over and felt his forehead. "no, you haven't got a bit of fever," she said, and she kissed him, and began to tumble his short black hair in the way she had, and she got one of his hands between her two, and kept rubbing it. "but you've had a long, tiresome day, and that's why you've gone to bed, i suppose. but if you feel the least sick, pony, i'll send for the doctor." pony said he was not sick at all; just tired; and that was true; he felt as if he never wanted to get up again. his mother put her arm under his neck, and pressed her face close down to his, and said very low: "pony, dear, you don't feel hard towards your mother for what she did the other night?" he knew she meant boxing his ears, when he was not to blame, and he said: "oh no," and then he threw his arms round her neck and cried; and she told him not to cry, and that she would never do such a thing again; but she was really so frightened she did not know what she was doing. when he quieted down she said: "now say your prayers, pony, 'our father,'" and she said "our father" all through with him, and after that, "now i lay me," just as when he was a very little fellow. after they had finished she stooped over and kissed him again, and when he turned his face into his pillow she kept smoothing his hair with her hand for about a minute. then she went away. pony could hear them stirring about for a good while down-stairs. his father came in from up-town at last and asked: "has pony come in?" and his mother said: "yes, he's up in bed. i wouldn't disturb him, henry. he's asleep by this time." his father said: "i don't know what to make of the boy. if he keeps on acting so strangely i shall have the doctor see him in the morning." pony felt dreadfully to think how far away from them he should be in the morning, and he would have given anything if he could have gone down to his father and mother and told them what he was going to do. but it did not seem as if he could. by-and-by he began to be sleepy, and then he dozed off, but he thought it was hardly a minute before he heard the circus band, and knew that the procession was coming for him. he jumped out of bed and put on his things as fast as he could; but his roundabout had only one sleeve to it, somehow, and he had to button the lower buttons of his trousers to keep it on. he got his bundle and stole down to the front door without seeming to touch his feet to anything, and when he got out on the front steps he saw the circus magician coming along. by that time the music had stopped and pony could not see any procession. the magician had on a tall, peaked hat, like a witch. he took up the whole street, he was so wide in the black glazed gown that hung from his arms when he stretched them out, for he seemed to be groping along that way, with his wand in one hand, like a blind man. he kept saying in a kind of deep, shaking voice: "it's all glory; it's all glory," and the sound of those words froze pony's blood. he tried to get back into the house again, so that the magician should not find him, but when he felt for the door-knob there was no door there anywhere; nothing but a smooth wall. then he sat down on the steps and tried to shrink up so little that the magician would miss him; but he saw his wide goggles getting nearer and nearer; and then his father and the doctor were standing by him looking down at him, and the doctor said: "he has been walking in his sleep; he must be bled," and he got out his lancet, when pony heard his mother calling: "pony, pony! what's the matter? have you got the nightmare?" and he woke up, and found it was just morning. the sun was shining in at his window, and it made him so glad to think that by this time the circus was far away and he was not with it, that he hardly knew what to do. he was not very well for two or three days afterwards, and his mother let him stay out of school to see whether he was really going to be sick or not. when he went back most of the fellows had forgotten that he had been going to run off with the circus. some of them that happened to think of it plagued him a little and asked how he liked being a circus actor. hen billard was the worst; he said he reckoned the circus magician got scared when he saw what a whaler pony was, and told the circus men that they would have to get a new tent to hold him; and that was the reason why they didn't take him. archy hawkins said: "how long did you have to wait on the front steps, pony, dear?" but after that he was pretty good to him, and said he reckoned they had better not any of them pretend that pony had not tried to run off if they had not been up to see. pony himself could never be exactly sure whether he had waited on the front steps and seen the circus magician or not. sometimes it seemed all of it like a dream, and sometimes only part of it. jim leonard tried to help him make it out, but they could not. he said it was a pity he had overslept himself, for if he had come to bid pony good-bye, the way he said, then he could have told just how much of it was a dream and how much was not. x the adventures that pony's cousin, frank baker, had with a pocketful of money very likely pony baker would not have tried to run off any more if it had not been for jim leonard. he was so glad he had not got off with the circus that he did not mind any of the things at home that used to vex him; and it really seemed as if his father and mother were trying to act better. they were a good deal taken up with each other, and sometimes he thought they let him do things they would not have let him do if they had noticed what he asked. his mother was fonder of him than ever, and if she had not kissed him so much before the fellows he would not have cared, for when they were alone he liked to have her pet him. but one thing was, he could never get her to like jim leonard, or to believe that jim was not leading him into mischief whenever they were off together. she was always wanting him to go with his cousin frank, and he would have liked to ask frank about running off, and whether a fellow had better do it; but he was ashamed, and especially after he heard his father tell how splendidly frank had behaved with two thousand dollars he was bringing from the city to the boy's town; pony was afraid that frank would despise him, and he did not hardly feel fit to go with frank, anyway. frank baker was one of those fellows that every mother would feel her boy was safe with. she would be sure that no crowd he was in was going to do any harm or come to any, for he would have an anxious eye out for everybody, and he would stand between the crowd and the mischief that a crowd of boys nearly always wants to do. his own mother felt easy about the younger children when they were with frank; and in a place where there were more chances for a boy to get sucked under mill-wheels, and break through ice, and fall from bridges, or have his fingers taken off by machinery than any other place i ever heard of, she no more expected anything to happen to them, if he had them in charge, than if she had them in charge herself. [illustration: "frank baker was one of those fellows that every mother would feel her boy was safe with"] as there were a good many other children in the family, and mrs. baker did her own work, like nearly every mother in the boy's town, frank almost always had some of them in charge. when he went hunting, or fishing, or walnutting, or berrying, or in swimming, he usually had one or two younger brothers with him; if he had only one, he thought he was having the greatest kind of a time. he did not mind carrying his brother on his back when he got tired, although it was not exactly the way to steal on game, and the gun was a heavy enough load, anyway; but if he had not got many walnuts, or any at all--as sometimes happened--it was not a great hardship to haul his brother home in the wagon. to be sure, when he wanted to swim out with the other big boys it was pretty trying to have to keep an eye on his brother, and see that he did not fall into the water from the bank where he left him. he was a good deal more anxious about other boys than he was about himself, and once he came near getting drowned through his carelessness. it was in winter, and the canal basin had been frozen over; then most of the water was let out from under the ice, and afterwards partly let in again. this lifted the ice-sheet, but not back to its old level, and the ice that clung to the shores shelved steeply down to the new level. frank stepped on this shore ice to get a shinny-ball, and slipped down to the edge of the ice-sheet, which he would be sure to go under into the water. he holloed with all his might, and by good luck some people came and reached him a stick, by which he pulled himself out. the scare of it haunted him for long after, but not so much for himself. whenever he was away from home in the winter he would see one of his younger brothers slipping down the shore ice and going under the ice-sheet, and he would break into a cold sweat at the idea. this shows just the worrying kind of boy frank was; and it shows how used he was to having care put upon him, and how he would even borrow trouble when he had none. it generally happens with any one who makes himself useful that other people make him useful, too, and all the neighbors put as much trust in frank as his mother, and got him to do a good many things that they would not have got other boys to do. they could not look into his face, a little more careworn than it ought to be at his age, without putting perfect faith in him, and trying to get something out of him. that was how he came to do so many errands for mothers who had plenty of boys of their own; and he seemed to be called on in any sort of trouble or danger, when the fathers were up-town, and was always chasing pigs or cows out of other people's gardens, and breaking up their hens from setting, or going up trees with hives to catch their bees when they swarmed. i suppose this was how he came to be trusted with that pocketful of money, and why he had a young brother along to double his care at the time. the money was given him in the city, as the boy's town boys always called the large place about twenty miles away, where frank went once with his mother when he was eleven years old. she was going to take passage there on a steamboat and go up the ohio river to visit his grandmother with his sisters, while frank was to go back the same day to the boy's town with one of his young brothers. they all drove down to the city together in the carriage which one of his uncles had got from the livery stable, with a driver who was to take frank and his brother home. this uncle had been visiting frank's father and mother, and it was his boat that she was going on. it lay among a hundred other boats, which had their prows tight together along the landing for half a mile up and down the sloping shore. it was one of the largest boats of all, and it ran every week from cincinnati to pittsburgh, and did not take any longer for the round trip than an ocean steamer takes now for the voyage from new york to liverpool. the children all had dinner on board, such a dinner as there never was in any house: roast beef and roast chicken; beefsteak and ham in chafing-dishes with lamps burning under them to keep them hot; pound-cake with frosting on, and pies and pickles, corn-bread and hot biscuit; jelly that kept shaking in moulds; ice-cream and spanish pudding; coffee and tea, and i do not know what all. when the children had eaten all they could hold, and made their uncle laugh till he almost cried, to see them trying to eat everything, their mother went ashore with them, and walked up the landing towards the hotel where the carriage was left, so as to be with frank and his little brother as long as she could before they started home. she was about one of the best mothers in the boy's town, and frank hated to have her go away even on a visit. she kept giving him charges about all the things at home, and how he must take good care of his little brothers, and see that the garden gate was fastened so that the cows could not get in, and feed the chickens regularly, and put the cat out every night, and not let the dog sleep under his bed; and they were so busy talking and feeling sorry that they got to the hotel before they knew it. there, whom should they see but one of the boy's town merchants, who was in the city on business, and who seemed as glad to meet them as if they were his own relations. they were glad, too, for it made them feel as if they had got back to the boy's town when he came up and spoke to mrs. baker. they had started from home after a very early breakfast, and she said it seemed as if they had been gone a year already. the merchant told her that he had been looking everywhere for somebody he knew who was going to the boy's town; and then he told mrs. baker that he had two thousand dollars which he wanted to send home to his partner, and he asked her if she could take it for him when she went back. "well, indeed, indeed, i'm thankful i'm not going, mr. bushell!" mrs. baker said. "and i wouldn't have supposed i could be, i'm so homesick. i'm going up the river on a visit to mother; but if i was going straight back, i wouldn't take your two thousand dollars for the half of it. i would be afraid of losing it, or getting robbed and murdered. i don't know what wouldn't happen. i would be happy to oblige you, but indeed, indeed i couldn't!" the merchant said he was sorry, but if she was not going home he supposed he would have to find some one who was. it was before the days of sending money by express, or telegraphing it, and the merchant told her he was afraid to trust the money in the mail. he asked her who was going to take her carriage home, and she told him the name of the driver from the livery stable in the boy's town, who had come to the city with them. mr. bushell seemed dreadfully disappointed, but when she went on to say how anxious she was that the driver should get frank and his brother home before dark, he brightened up all of a sudden, and he asked, "is frank going back?" and he looked down into frank's face and smiled, as most people did when they looked into frank's face, and he asked, "what's the reason frank couldn't take it?" mrs. baker put her arm across frank's breast and pulled him away, and said, "indeed, indeed, the child just sha'n't, and that's all about it!" but mr. bushell took the boy by the arm and laughed. "let's feel how deep your pants' pocket is," he said; and he put his hand into the pocket of frank's nankeen trousers and felt; and then, before mrs. baker could stop him, he drew a roll of bank-notes out of his own pocket and pushed it into frank's. "there, it's just a fit! do you think you'd lose it?" "no, he wouldn't lose it," said his mother, "and that's just it! he'd worry about it every minute, and i would worry about him!" she tried to make the merchant take the money back, but he kept joking; and then he turned serious, and told her that the money had to be put in the bank to pay a note, and he did not know any way to get it to his partner if she would not let frank take it; that he was at his wits' end. he said he would as lief trust it with frank as with any man he knew; that nobody would think the boy had any money with him; and he fairly begged her to let frank take it for him. he talked to her so much that she began to give way a little. she felt proud of his being willing to trust frank, and at last she consented. mr. bushell explained that he wished his partner to have the money that evening, and she had to agree to let frank carry it to him as soon as he got home. the boy's town was built on two sides of a river. mr. bushell's store was across the river from where the bakers lived, and she said she did not want the child to have to go through the bridge after dark. perhaps it was her anxiety about this that began the whole trouble; for when the driver came with the carriage, she could not help asking him if he was sure to get home before sundown. that made him drive faster than he might have done, perhaps; at any rate, he set off at a quick trot after mr. bushell had helped put the two boys in. mrs. baker gathered her little girls together and went back to the boat with her heart in her mouth, as she afterwards said. the driver got out of the city without trouble, but when he came to the smooth turnpike road, it seemed to frank that the horses kept going faster and faster, till they were fairly flying over the ground. the driver pulled and pulled at the reins, and people began to hollo, "look out where you're going!" when they met them or passed them, and all at once frank began to think the horses were running away. he had not much chance to think about it, though, he was so busy keeping his little brother from bouncing off the seat and out of the carriage, and in feeling if mr. bushell's money was safe; and he was not certain that they were running away till he saw people stopping and staring, and then starting after the carriage. the horses tore along for two or three miles; they thundered through the covered bridge on mill's creek, and passed the four-mile house. by the time they reached the little village beyond it they had the turnpike to themselves; every team coming and going drove into the gutter. at the village a large, fat butcher, who was sitting tilted back in a chair at the door of his shop, saw the carriage coming in a whirlwind of dust, and he knew what the matter was. there was a horse standing at the hitching rail, and the butcher just had time to untie him and jump into the saddle when the runaways flew by. he took after them as fast as his horse could go, and overhauled them at the end of the next bridge and brought them to a stand. it had really been nothing but a race against time. no one was hurt; the horses were pretty badly blown, that was all; but the carriage was so much shaken up that it had to be left at a wagon-shop, where it could not be mended till morning. the two boys were taken back to four-mile house, where they would have to pass the night. frank worried about his father, who would be expecting them home that evening; but he was glad his mother did not know what had happened. he was thankful enough when he felt his brother all over and found him safe and sound, and then put his hand on his pocket and found that mr. bushell's money was still there. he did not eat very much supper, and he went to bed early, after he had put his brother in bed and seen him fall asleep almost before he got through his prayers. frank was very tired, and pretty sore from the jouncing in the carriage; but he was too worried to be sleepy. he began to think, what if some one should get mr. bushell's money away from him in the night, while he was asleep? and then he was glad that he did not feel like sleeping. he got up and put on his clothes and sat down by the window, listening to his brother's breathing and looking out into the dark at the heat-lightning in the west. the day had been very hot and the night was close, without a breath of wind. by-and-by all the noises about the house died away, and he knew everybody had gone to bed. the lantern under the tavern porch threw a dim light out into the road; some dogs barked away off. there was no other sound, and the stillness was awful. he kept his hand on the pocket that had the money in it. after a while frank began to feel very drowsy, and he thought he would lie down again, but he promised himself he would not sleep, and he did not undress; for if he took his pantaloons off, he did not know how he could make sure every minute that the money was safe, unless he put it under his pillow. he was afraid if he did that he might forget it in the morning, and leave it when he got up. he stretched himself on the bed beside his brother, and it seemed to him that it was hardly a second before he heard a loud crash that shook the whole house; and the room looked full of fire. another crash came, and then another, with a loud, stony kind of rolling noise that seemed to go round the world. then he knew that he had been asleep, and that this dreadful noise was the swift coming of a thunder-storm. it was the worst storm that was ever known in mill creek valley, so the people said afterwards, but as yet it was only beginning. the thunder was deafening, and it never stopped a moment. the lightning hardly stopped, either; it filled the room with a quivering blaze; at times, when it died down, the night turned black as ink, and then a flash came that lit up the fields outside, and showed every stick and stone as bright as the brightest day. frank was dazed at first by the glare and the noise; then he jumped out of bed, and tried for two things: whether the money was still safe in his pocket, and whether his brother was alive. he never could tell which he found out first; as soon as he knew, he felt a little bit better, but still his cheerfulness was not anything to brag of. if his brother was alive, it seemed to be more than any one else in the house was besides himself. he could not hear a soul stirring, although in that uproar there might have been a full-dress parade of the butler guards in the tavern, firing off their guns, and he could not have heard them. he looked out in the entry, but it was all dark there except when he let the flashes of his room into it. he thought he would light his candle, for company, and so that the lightning would not be so awfully bright. he found his candlestick easily enough--he could have found a pin in that glare--but there were no matches. so he decided to get along without the candle. every now and then he put his hand in his pocket, or on the bulge outside, to make sure of the money; and whenever a very bright flash came, he would listen for his brother's breathing, to tell whether he had been struck by lightning or not. but it kept thundering so that sometimes he could not hear. then frank would shake him till the boy gave a sort of snort, and that proved that he was still alive; or he would put his ear to his brother's breast, and listen whether his heart was beating. it always was, and by-and-by the rain began to fall. it fell in perfect sheets, and the noise it made could be heard through the thunder. but frank had always heard that after it began to rain, a thunder-storm was not so dangerous, and the air got fresher. still, it blazed and bellowed away, he could never tell how long, and it seemed to him that he must have felt a thousand times for mr. bushell's money, and tried a thousand times to find whether his brother had been struck by lightning or not. once or twice he thought he would call for help; but he did not think he could make anybody hear, and he was too much ashamed to do it, anyway. between the times of feeling for the money and seeing whether his brother was alive, he thought about his mother: how frightened she would be if she knew what had happened to him and his brother, after they left her. and he thought of his father: how troubled he must be at their not getting home. it seemed to him that he must be to blame, somehow, but he could not understand how, exactly; and he could not think of any way to help it. he wondered if the storm was as bad on the river and in the boy's town, and whether the lightning would strike the boat or the house; the house had a lightning-rod, but the boat could not have one, of course. he felt pretty safe about his father and the older-younger brother who had been left at home with him; but he was not sure about his mother and sisters, and he tried to imagine what people did on a steamboat in a thunder-storm. after a long time had passed, and he thought it must be getting near morning, he lay down again beside his brother, and fell into such a heavy sleep that he did not wake till it was broad day, and the sun was making as much blaze in the curtainless tavern-room as the lightning had made. the storm was over, and everything was as peaceful as if there had never been any such thing as a storm in the world. the first thing he did was to make a grab for his pocket. the money was still there, and his brother sleeping as soundly as ever. after breakfast, the livery-stable man came with the carriage, which he had got mended, and frank started home with his brother once more. but they had sixteen miles to go before they would reach the boy's town, and the carriage had been so badly shattered, or else the driver was so much afraid of the horses, that he would not let them go at more than a walk. frank was anxious to get home on his father's account; still he would rather get home safe, and he did not try to hurry the driver, for fear they might not get home at all. it was four o'clock in the afternoon when they stopped at his father's house. his older-younger brother, and the hired girl, whom his mother had got to keep house while she was gone on her visit, came out and took his little brother in; and the girl told frank his father had just been there to see whether he had got back. then he knew that his father must have been as anxious as he had been afraid he was. he did not wait to go inside; he only kicked off the shoes he wore to the city and started off for his father's office as fast as his bare feet could carry him. he found his father at the door. he did not say very much, but frank could see by his face that he had been worrying; and afterwards he said that he was just going round to the livery stable the next minute to get another team, and go down towards the city to see what had become of them all. frank told him what had happened, and his father put his arms round him, but still did not say much. he did not say anything at all about mr. bushell's money or seem to think about it till frank asked: "i'd better take it right straight over to his store, hadn't i, father?" his father said he reckoned he had, and frank started away on the run again. he wanted to get rid of that money so badly, for it was all he had to worry about, after he had got rid of his brother, that he was out of breath, almost, by the time he reached mr. bushell's store. but even then he could not get rid of the money. mr. bushell had told him to give it to his partner, but his partner had gone out into the country, and was not to be back till after supper. frank did not know what to do. he did not dare to give it to any one else in the store, and it seemed to him that the danger of having it got worse every minute. he hung about a good while, and kept going in and out of the store, but at last he thought the best thing would be to go home and ask his father; and that was what he did. by this time his father had gone home to supper, and he found him there with his two younger brothers, feeling rather lonesome, with frank's mother and his sisters all away. but they cheered up together, and his father said he had done right not to leave the money, and he would just step over, after supper, and give it himself to mr. bushell's partner. he took the roll of bills from frank and put it into his own pocket, and went on eating his supper, but when they were done he gave the bills back to the boy. "after all, frank, i believe i'll let you take that money to mr. bushell's partner. he trusted it to you, and you ought to have the glory; you've had the care. do you think you'll be afraid to come home through the bridge after sunset?" the bridge was one of those old-fashioned, wooden ones, roofed in and sided up, and it stretched from shore to shore, like a tunnel, on its piers. it was rather dim, even in the middle of the brightest day, and none of the boys liked to be caught in it after sunset. frank said he did not believe he should be afraid, for it seemed to him that if he had got through a runaway, and such a thunder-storm as that was the night before, without harm, he could surely get through the bridge safely. there was not likely to be anybody in it, at the worst, but indian jim, or solomon whistler, the crazy man, and he believed he could run by them if they offered to do anything to him. he meant to walk as slowly as he could, until he reached the bridge, and then just streak through it. that was what he did, and it was still quite light when he reached mr. bushell's store. his partner was there, sure enough, this time, and frank gave him the money, and told him how he had been so long bringing it. the merchant thanked him, and said he was rather young to be trusted with so much money, but he reckoned mr. bushell knew what he was about. "did he count it when he gave it to you?" he asked. "no, he didn't," said frank. "did you?" "i didn't have a chance. he put it right into my pocket, and i was afraid to take it out." mr. bushell's partner laughed, and frank was going away, so as to get through the bridge before it was any darker, but mr. bushell's partner said, "just hold on a minute, won't you, frank, till i count this," and he felt as if his heart had jumped into his throat. what if he had lost some of the money? what if somebody had got it out of his pocket, while he was so dead asleep, and taken part of it? what if mr. bushell had made a mistake, and not given him as much as he thought he had? he hardly breathed while mr. bushell's partner slowly counted the bank-notes. it took him a long time, and he had to wet his finger a good many times, and push the notes to keep them from sticking together. at last he finished, and he looked at frank over the top of his spectacles. "two thousand?" he asked. "that's what mr. bushell said," answered the boy, and he could hardly get the words out. "well, it's all here," said mr. bushell's partner, and he put the money in his pocket, and frank turned and went out of the store. he felt light, light as cotton, and gladder than he almost ever was in his life before. he was so glad that he forgot to be afraid in the bridge. the fellows who were the most afraid always ran through the bridge, and those who tried not to be afraid walked fast and whistled. frank did not even think to whistle. his father was sitting out on the front porch when he reached home, and he asked frank if he had got rid of his money, and what mr. bushell's partner had said. frank told him all about it, and after a while his father asked, "well, frank, do you like to have the care of money?" "i don't believe i do, father." "which was the greater anxiety to you last night, mr. bushell's money, or your brother?" frank had to think awhile. "well, i suppose it was the money, father. you see, it wasn't my own money." "and if it had been your own money, you wouldn't have been anxious about it? you wouldn't have cared if you had lost it, or somebody had stolen it from you?" frank thought again, and then he said he did not believe he had thought about that. "well, think about it now." frank tried to think, and at last he said. "i reckon i should have cared." "and if it had been your own money, would you have been more anxious about it than about your brother?" this time frank was more puzzled than ever; he really did not know what to say. his father said: "the trouble with money is, that people who have a great deal of it seem to be more anxious about it than they are about their brothers, and they think that the things it can buy are more precious than the things which all the money in the world cannot buy." his father stood up. "better go to bed, frank. you must be tired. there won't be any thunder-storm to-night, and you haven't got a pocketful of money to keep you awake." xi how jim leonard planned for pony baker to run off on a raft now we have got to go back to pony baker again. the summer went along till it got to be september, and the fellows were beginning to talk about when school would take up. it was almost too cold to go in swimming; that is, the air made you shiver when you came out, and before you got your clothes on; but if you stood in the water up to your chin, it seemed warmer than it did on the hottest days of summer. only now you did not want to go in more than once a day, instead of four or five times. the fellows were gathering chinquapin acorns most of the time, and some of them were getting ready to make wagons to gather walnuts in. once they went out to the woods for pawpaws, and found about a bushel; they put them in cornmeal to grow, but they were so green that they only got rotten. the boys found an old shanty in the woods where the farmer made sugar in the spring, and some of the big fellows said they were coming out to sleep in it, the first night they got. it was this that put jim leonard in mind of pony's running off again. all the way home he kept talking to pony about it, and pony said he was going to do it yet, some time, but when jim leonard wanted him to tell the time, he would only say, "you'll see," and wag his head. then jim leonard mocked him and dared him to tell, and asked him if he would take a dare. after that he made up with him, and said if pony would run off he would run off, too; and that the way for them to do would be to take the boards of that shanty in the woods and build a raft. they could do it easily, because the boards were just leaned up against the ridge-pole, and they could tie them together with pawpaw switches, they were so tough, and then some night carry the raft to the river, after the water got high in the fall, and float down on it to the city. "why, does the river go past the city?" pony asked. "of course it does," said jim leonard, and he laughed at pony. "it runs into the ohio there. where's your geography?" pony was ashamed to say that he did not suppose that geography had anything to do with the river at the boy's town, for it was not down on the map, like behring straits and the isthmus of suez. but he saw that jim leonard really knew something. he did not see the sense of carrying the raft two miles through the woods when you could get plenty of drift-wood on the river shore to make a raft of. but he did not like to say it for fear jim leonard would think he was afraid to be in the woods after dark, and after that he came under him more than ever. most of the fellows just made fun of jim leonard, because they said he was a brag, but pony began to believe everything he said when he found out that he knew where the river went to; pony had never even thought. jim was always talking about their plan of running off together, now; and he said they must fix everything so that it would not fail this time. if they could only get to the city once, they could go for cabin-boys on a steamboat that was bound for new orleans; and down the mississippi they could easily hide on some ship that was starting for the spanish main, and then they would be all right. jim knew about the spanish main from a book of pirate stories that he had. he had a great many books and he was always reading them. one was about indians, and one was about pirates, and one was about dreams and signs, and one was full of curious stories, and one told about magic and how to do jugglers' tricks; the other was a fortune-telling book. jim leonard had a paper from the city, with long stories in, and he had read a novel once; he could not tell the boys exactly what a novel was, but that was what it said on the back. after pony and he became such friends he told him everything that was in his books, and once, when pony went to his house, he showed him the books. pony was a little afraid of jim leonard's mother; she was a widow woman, and took in washing; she lived in a little wood-colored house down by the river-bank, and she smoked a pipe. she was a very good mother to jim, and let him do whatever he pleased--go in swimming as much as he wanted to, stay out of school, or anything. he had to catch drift-wood for her to burn when the river was high; once she came down to the river herself and caught drift-wood with a long pole that had a nail in the end of it to catch on with. by the time school took up pony and jim leonard were such great friends that they asked the teacher if they might sit together, and they both had the same desk. when pony's mother heard that, it seemed as if she were going to do something about it. she said to his father: "i don't like pony's going with jim leonard so much. he's had nobody else with him for two weeks, and now he's sitting with him in school." pony's father said, "i don't believe jim leonard will hurt pony. what makes you like him, pony?" pony said, "oh, nothing," and his father laughed. "it seems to be a case of pure affection. what do you talk about together?" "oh, dreams, and magic, and pirates," said pony. his father laughed, but his mother said, "i know hell put mischief in the child's head," and then pony thought how jim leonard always wanted him to run off, and he felt ashamed; but he did not think that running off was mischief, or else all the boys would not be wanting to do it, and so he did not say anything. his father said, "i don't believe there's any harm in the fellow. he's a queer chap." "he's so low down," said pony's mother. "well, he has a chance to rise, then," said pony's father. "we may all be hurrahing for him for president some day." pony could not always tell when his father was joking, but it seemed to him he must be joking now. "i don't believe pony will get any harm from sitting with him in school, at any rate." after that pony's mother did not say anything, but he knew that she had taken a spite to jim leonard, and when he brought him home with him after school he did not bring him into the woodshed as he did with the other boys, but took him out to the barn. that got them to playing in the barn most of the time, and they used to stay in the hay-loft, where jim leonard told pony the stories out of his books. it was good and warm there, and now the days were getting chilly towards evenings. once, when they were lying in the hay together, jim leonard said, all of a sudden, "i've thought of the very thing, pony baker." pony asked, "what thing?" "how to get ready for running off," said jim leonard, and at that pony's heart went down, but he did not like to show it, and jim leonard went on: "we've got to provision the raft, you know, for maybe we'll catch on an island and be a week getting to the city. we've got to float with the current, anyway. well, now, we can make a hole in the hay here and hide the provisions till we're ready to go. i say we'd better begin hiding them right away. let's see if we can make a place. get away, trip." he was speaking to pony's dog, that always came out into the barn with him and stayed below in the carriage-room, whining and yelping till they helped him up the ladder into the loft. then he always lay in one corner, with his tongue out, and looking at them as if he knew what they were saying. he got up when jim leonard bade him, and jim pulled away the hay until he got down to the loft floor. "yes, it's the very place. it's all solid, and we can put the things down here and cover them up with hay and nobody will notice. now, to-morrow you bring out a piece of bread-and-butter with meat between, and i will, too, and then we will see how it will do." pony brought his bread-and-butter the next day. jim said he intended to bring some hard-boiled eggs, but his mother kept looking, and he had no chance. "let's see whether the butter's sweet, because if it ain't the provisions will spoil before we can get off." he took a bite, and he said, "my, that's nice!" and the first thing he knew he ate the whole piece up. "well, never mind," he said, "we can begin to-morrow just as well." the next day jim leonard brought a ham-bone, to cook greens with on the raft. he said it would be first-rate; and pony brought bread-and-butter, with meat between. then they hid them in the hay, and drove trip away from the place. the day after that, when they were busy talking, trip dug the provisions up, and, before they noticed, he ate up pony's bread-and-butter and was gnawing jim leonard's ham-bone. they cuffed his ears, but they could not make him give it up, and jim leonard said: "well, let him have it. it's all spoilt now, anyway. but i'll tell you what, pony--we've got to do something with that dog. he's found out where we keep our provisions, and now he'll always eat them. i don't know but what we'll have to kill him." "oh no!" said pony. "i couldn't kill trip!" "well, i didn't mean kill him, exactly; but do something. i'll tell you what--train him not to follow you to the barn when he sees you going." pony thought that would be a good plan, and he began the next day at noon. trip tried to follow him to the barn, and pony kicked at him, and motioned to stone him, and said: "go home, sir! home with you! home, i say!" till his mother came to the back door. "why, what in the world makes you so cross with poor trip, pony?" she asked. "i'll teach him not to tag me round everywhere," said pony. his mother said: "why, i thought you liked to have him with you?" "i'm tired of it," said pony; but when he put his mother off that way he felt badly, as if he had told her a lie, and he let trip come with him and began to train him again the next day. it was pretty hard work, and trip looked at him so mournfully when he drove him back that he could hardly bear to do it; but jim leonard said it was the only way, and he must keep it up. at last trip got so that he would not follow pony to the barn. he would look at him when pony started and wag his tail wistfully, and half jump a little, and then when he saw pony frown he would let his tail drop and stay still, or walk off to the woodshed and keep looking around at pony to see if he were in earnest. it made pony's heart ache, for he was truly fond of trip; but jim leonard said it was the only way, and so pony had to do it. they provisioned themselves a good many times, but after they talked a while they always got hungry, or jim leonard did, and then they dug up their provisions and ate them. once when he came to spend saturday afternoon with pony he had great news to tell him. one of the boys had really run off. he was a boy that pony had never seen, though he had heard of him. he lived at the other end of the town, below the bridge, and almost at the sycamore grove. he had the name of being a wild fellow; his father was a preacher, but he could not do anything with him. now, jim leonard said, pony must run off right away, and not wait for the river to rise, or anything. as soon as the river rose, jim would follow him on the raft; but pony must start first, and he must take the pike for the city, and sleep in fence corners. they must provision him, and not eat any of the things before he started. he must not take a bundle or anything, because if he did people would know he was running off, or maybe they would think he was a runaway slave from kentucky, he was so dark-complexioned. at first pony did not like it, because it seemed to him that jim leonard was backing out; but jim leonard said that if two of them started off at the same time, people would just know they were running off, and the constable would take them up before they could get across the corporation line. he said that very likely it would rain in less than a week, and then he could start after pony on the raft, and be at the ohio river almost as soon as pony was. he said, "why, you ain't afraid, are you, pony?" and pony said he was not afraid; for if there was anything that a boy's town boy hated, it was to be afraid, and pony hated it the worst of any, because he was sometimes afraid that he was afraid. they fixed it that pony was to sleep the next friday night in the barn, and the next morning, before it was light, he was to fill his pockets with the provisions and run off. every afternoon he took out a piece of bread-and-butter with meat between and hid it in the hay, and jim leonard brought some eggs. he said he had no chance to boil them without his mother seeing, but he asked pony if he did not know that raw eggs were first-rate, and when pony said no, he said, "well, they are." they broke one of the eggs when they were hiding them, and it ran over the bread-and-butter, but they wiped it off with hay as well as they could, and jim leonard said maybe it would help to keep it, anyway. [illustration: "'why, you ain't afraid, are you, pony?'"] when he came round to pony's house the next friday afternoon from school he asked him if he had heard the news, and when pony said no, he said that the fellow that ran off had been taken up in the city by the watchman. he was crying on the street, and he said he had nowhere to sleep, and had not had anything to eat since the night before. pony's heart seemed to be standing still. he had always supposed that as soon as he ran off he should be free from all the things that hindered and vexed him; and, although he expected to be sorry for his father and mother, he expected to get along perfectly well without them. he had never thought about where he should sleep at night after he got to the city, or how he should get something to eat. "now, you see, pony," said jim leonard, "what a good thing it was that i thought about provisioning you before you started. what makes you look so?" pony said, "i'm not looking!" jim leonard said, "you're not afraid, are you, just because that fellow got took up? you're not such a cowardy-calf as to want to back out now?" the tears came into pony's eyes. "cowardy-calf yourself, jim leonard! you've backed out long ago!" "you'll see whether i've backed out," said jim leonard. "i'm coming round to sleep in the barn with you to-night, and help you to get a good start in the morning. and maybe i'll start myself to-morrow. i will if i can get anybody to help me make the raft and bring it through the woods. now let's go up into the loft and see if the provisions are all safe." they dug the provisions up out of the hay and jim leonard broke one of the eggs against the wall. it had a small chicken in it, and he threw it away. another egg smelt so that they could hardly stand it. "i don't believe these eggs are very good," said jim leonard. "i got them out of a nest that the hen had left; mother said i might have them all." he broke them one after another, and every one had a chicken in it, or else it was bad. "well, never mind," he said. "let's see what the bread-and-butter's like." he bit into a piece, but he did not swallow any. "tastes kind of musty; from the hay, i reckon; and the meat seems kind of old. but they always give the sailors spoilt provisions, and this bread-and-butter will do you first-rate, pony. you'll be so hungry you can eat anything. say, you ain't afraid now, are you, pony?" "no, not now," said pony, but he did not fire up this time as he did before at the notion of his being afraid. jim leonard said, "because, maybe i can't get mother to let me come here again. if she takes a notion, she won't. but i'm going to watch out, and as soon as supper's over, and i've got the cow into the lot, and the morning's wood in, i'm going to try to hook off. if i don't get here to stay all night with you i'll be around bright and early in the morning, to wake you and start you. it won't be light now much before six, anyway." xii how jim leonard backed out, and pony had to give it up it all seemed very strange to pony. first, jim leonard was going to run off with him on a raft, and then he was going to have pony go by land and follow him on the raft; then suddenly he fixed it so that pony was going alone, and he was going to pass the last night with him in the barn; and here, all at once, he was only coming, maybe, to see him off in the morning. it made pony feel very forlorn, but he did not like to say anything for fear jim leonard would call him cowardy-calf. it was near sunset, on a cool day in the beginning of october, and the wind was stirring the dry blades in the corn-patch at the side of the barn. they made a shivering sound, and it made pony lonesomer and lonesomer. he did not want to run off, but he did not see how he could help it. trip stood at the wood-house door, looking at him, but he did not dare to come to pony as long as he was near the barn. but when pony started towards the house trip came running and jumping to him, and pony patted him and said, "poor trip, poor old trip!" he did not know when he should see such another dog as that. the kitchen door was open, and a beautiful smell of frying supper was coming out. pretty soon his mother came to the open door, and stood watching him patting trip. "well, have you made up with poor old trip, pony? why don't you come in, child? you look so cold, out there." pony did not say anything, but he came into the kitchen and sat in a corner beyond the stove and watched his mother getting the supper. in the dining-room his sisters were setting the table and his father was reading by the lamp there. pony would have given almost anything if something had happened just to make him tell what he was going to do, so that he could have been kept from doing it. he saw that his mother was watching him all the time, and she said: "what makes you so quiet, child?" pony said, "oh, nothing," and his mother asked, "have you been falling out with jim leonard?" pony said no, and then she said, "i almost wish you had, then. i don't think he's a bad boy, but he's a crazy fool, and i wish you wouldn't go with him so much. i don't like him." all of a sudden pony felt that he did not like jim leonard very much himself. it seemed to him that jim leonard had not used him very well, but he could not have told how. after supper the great thing was how to get out to the barn without any one's noticing. pony went to the woodshed door two or three times to look out. there were plenty of stars in the sky, but it seemed very dark, and he knew that it would be as black as pitch in the barn, and he did not see how he could ever dare to go out to it, much less into it. every time he came back from looking he brought an armload of wood into the kitchen so that his mother would not notice. the last time she said, "why, you dear, good boy, what a lot of wood you're bringing for your mother," for usually pony had to be told two or three times before he would get a single armload of wood. when his mother praised him he was ashamed to look at her, and so he looked round, and he saw the lantern hanging by the mantel-piece. when he saw that lantern he almost wished that he had not seen it, for now he knew that his last excuse was gone, and he would really have to run off. if it had not been for the lantern he could have told jim leonard that he was afraid to go out to the barn on account of ghosts, for anybody would be afraid of ghosts; jim leonard said he was afraid of them himself. but now pony could easily get the lantern and take it out to the barn with him, and if it was not dark the ghosts would not dare to touch you. he tried to think back to the beginning of the time when he first intended to run off, and find out if there was not some way of not doing it; but he could not, and if jim leonard was to come to the barn the next morning to help him start, and should not find him there, pony did not know what he would do. jim leonard would tell all the fellows, and pony would never hear the last of it. that was the way it seemed to him, but his mind felt all fuzzy, and he could not think very clearly about it. when his mother finished up her work in the kitchen he took the lantern from the nail and slipped up the back stairs to his little room, and then, after he heard his sisters going to bed and his father and mother talking together quietly, he lit the lantern and stole out to the barn with it. nobody noticed him, and he got safely inside the barn. he used to like to carry the lantern very much, because it made the shadows of his legs, when he walked, go like scissors-blades, and that was fun; but that night it did not cheer him up, and it seemed as if nothing could cheer him up again. when trip first saw him come out into the woodshed with the lantern he jumped up and pawed pony and licked the lantern, he was so glad, but when pony went towards the barn trip stopped following him and went back into the wood-house very sadly. pony would have given almost anything to have trip come with him, only, as jim leonard said, trip would whine or bark, or something, and then pony would be found out and kept from running off. the more he wanted to be kept from running off the more he knew he must not try to be, and he let trip go back when he would have so gladly helped him up into the hay-loft and slept with him there. he would not have been afraid with trip, and now he found that he was dreadfully afraid. the lantern-light was a charm against ghosts, but not against rats, and the first thing pony knew when he got into the barn a rat ran across his foot. trip would have kept the rats off. they seemed to just swarm in the loft when pony got up there, and after he hung the lantern on a nail and lay down in the hay they did not mind him at all. they played all around, and two of them got up on their hind legs once and fought, or else danced, pony could not tell which. he could not sleep, and after a while he felt the tears coming and he began to cry, and he kept sobbing, and could not stop himself. when pony's mother was ready to go to bed she said to pony's father: "did pony say good-night to you?" and when he said no, she said, "but he must have gone to bed," and she ran up the stairs to see. she came down again in about half a second and she said, "he doesn't seem to be there," and she raced all through the house hunting for him. in the kitchen she saw that the lantern was gone and then she said: "i might have known he was up to some mischief, he was so quiet. this is some more of jim leonard's work. henry, i want you to go right out and look for pony. it's half-past nine." then pony's father knew that it would be no use to talk and he started out. but the whole street was quiet, and all the houses were dark as if the people had gone to bed. he went up town and to all the places where the big boys were apt to play at night, and he found hen billard and archy hawkins, but neither of them had seen pony since school. they were both sitting on hen billard's front steps, because archy hawkins was going to stay all night with him, and they were telling stories. when pony's father asked about pony and seemed anxious they tried to comfort him, but they could not think where pony could be. they said perhaps jim leonard would know. then pony's father went home, and the minute he opened the front door pony's mother called out: "have you found him?" his father said: "no. hasn't he come in yet?" and he told her how he had been looking everywhere, and she burst out crying. "i know he's fallen into the canal and got drowned, or something," and she wrung her hands together; and then he said that hen billard and archy hawkins thought jim leonard would know, and he had only stopped to see whether pony had happened to come in, and he was going straight to jim leonard's mother's house; and pony's mother said: "oh, go, go, go!" and fairly pushed him out of the house. by this time it was ten o'clock and going on eleven, and all the town was as still as death, except the dogs. pony's father kept on until he got down to the river-bank, where jim leonard's mother lived, and he had to knock and knock before he could make anybody hear. at last jim leonard's mother poked her head out of the window and asked who was there, and pony's father told her. he said: "is jim at home, mrs. leonard?" and she said: "yes, and fast asleep three hours ago. what makes you ask?" then he had to tell her. "we can't find pony, and some of the boys thought jim might know where he is. i'm sorry to disturb you, mrs. leonard. good-night," and he went back home. when he got there he found pony's mother about crazy. he said now they must search the house thoroughly; and they went down into the cellar first, because she said she knew pony had fallen down the stairs and killed himself. but he was not there, and then they hunted through all the rooms and looked under the tables and beds and into the cupboards and closets, and he was not there. then they went into the wood-house and looked there, and up into the wood-house loft among the old stoves and broken furniture, and he was not there. trip was there, and he made them think so of pony that pony's mother took on worse than she had yet. "now i'm going out to look in the barn," said pony's father. "you stay quietly in the house, lucy." trip started to go with pony's father, but when he saw that he was going to the barn he was afraid to follow him, pony had trained him so; and pony's father went alone. he shaded the candle that he was carrying with his hand, and when he got into the barn he put it down and stood and looked and tried to think how he should do. it was dangerous to go around among the hay with the candle, and the lantern was gone. almost from the first pony's father thought that he heard a strange noise like some one sobbing, and then it seemed to him that there was a light up in the loft. he holloed out: "who's there?" and then the noise stopped, but the light kept on. pony's father holloed out again: "pony! is that you, pony?" and then pony answered, "yes," and he began sobbing again. in less than half a second pony's father was up in the loft, and then down again and out of the barn and into the yard with pony. his mother was standing at the back door, for she could not bear to stay in the house, and pony's father holloed to her: "here he is, lucy, safe and sound!" and pony's mother holloed back: "well, don't touch him, henry! don't scold the child! don't say a word to him! oh, i could just fall on my knees!" pony's father came along, bringing pony and the lantern. pony's hair and clothes were all stuck full of pieces of hay, and his face was smeared with hay-dust which he had rubbed into it when he was crying. he had got some of jim leonard's mother's hen's eggs on him, and he did not smell very well. but his mother did not care how he looked or how he smelled. she caught him up into her arms and just fairly hugged him into the house, and there she sat down with him in her arms, and kissed his dirty face, and his hair all full of hay-sticks and spider-webs, and cried till it seemed as if she was never going to stop. she would not let his father say anything to him, but after a while she washed him, and when she got him clean she made him up a bed on the lounge and put him to sleep there where she could see him. she said she was not going to sleep herself that night, but just stay up and realize that they had got pony safe again. one thing she did ask him, and that was: "what in the world made you want to sleep in the barn, pony?" and pony was ashamed to say he was getting ready to run off. he began: "jim leonard--" and his mother broke out: "i knew it was some of jim leonard's work!" and she talked against jim leonard until pony fell asleep, and said pony should never speak to him again. she and pony's father sat up all night talking, and about daybreak he recollected that he had left the candle burning in the barn, and he ran out with all his might to get it before it set the barn on fire. but it had burned out without catching anything, and he was coming back to the house when he met jim leonard sneaking towards the barn door. he pounced on him, and caught him by the collar, and he said as savagely as he could: "what are you doing here, jim?" jim leonard was too scared to speak, and pony's father hauled him to the house door, and holloed in to pony's mother: "i've got jim leonard here, lucy"; and she holloed back: "oh, well, take him away, and don't let me see the dreadful boy!" and pony's father said: "i'll take him home to his mother, and see what she has to say to him." all the way down to the river-bank he did not say a word to jim leonard, but when they got to jim leonard's mother's house, there she was with her pipe in her mouth coming out to get chips to kindle the fire with, and she said: "i'd like to know what you've got my boy by the collar for, mr. baker?" pony's father said: "i don't know myself; i'll let him tell you. pony was hid in the barn last night, and i just now caught jim prowling around on the outside. i should like to hear what he wanted." jim leonard did not say anything. his mother gave him one look, and then she went into the house and came out with a table-knife in her hand. she said, "i reckon i can get him to tell you," and she went to a pear-tree that there was before her house and cut a long sucker from the foot of it. she came up to jim and then she said: "tell!" she did not have to say it twice, and in about half a second he told how pony had intended to run off and how he put him up to it, and everything. pony's father did not wait to see what jim leonard's mother did to jim. when pony woke in the morning he heard his mother saying: "i could almost think he had bewitched the child." his father said: "it really seems like a case of mesmeric influence." pony was sick for about a week after that. when he got better his father had a very solemn talk with him, and asked why he ever dreamed of running away from his home, where they all loved him so. pony could not tell. all the things that he used to be so mad about were like nothing to him now, and he was ashamed of them. his father did not try hard to make him tell. he explained to him what a miserable boy he would have been if he had really got away, and said he hoped his night's experience in the barn would be a lesson to him. that was what it turned out to be. but it seemed to be a lesson to his father and mother, too. they let him do more things, and his mother did not baby him so much before the boys. he thought she was trying to be a better mother to him, and, perhaps, she did not baby him so much because now he had a little brother for her to baby instead, that was born about a week after pony tried to run off. the end ethel morton at chautauqua by mabell s. c. smith m. a. donohue & company chicago new york made in u. s. a. contents chapter page i on the road ii getting settled iii opening of the assembly iv personally conducted v learning to swim vi ethel brown a heroine vii dorothy cooks viii the spelling match ix grandfather arranges his time x a chautauqua sunday xi the united service club is organized xii old first night xiii flying xiv niagara falls xv the pageant xvi think help! xvii recognition week xviii in camp xix "my brave little girl!" xx following a clue xxi "who are we?" ethel morton at chautauqua chapter i on the road it was a large and heavily laden family party that left the train at westfield, new york. there was grandfather emerson carrying grandmother emerson's hat-box and valise; and there was their daughter, lieutenant roger morton's wife, with a tall boy and girl, and a short girl and boy of her own, and a niece, ethel, all burdened with the bags and bundles necessary for a night's comfort on the cars and a summer's stay at chautauqua. "the trunks are checked through, roger," said mrs. morton to her older son, "so you won't have to bother about them here." "good enough," replied roger, who was making his first trip, in entire charge of the party and who was eager that every arrangement should run smoothly. after a consultation with his grandmother who had been to chautauqua before, he announced, "the trolley is waiting behind the station. we can get on board at once." roger was a merry-faced boy of seventeen and his mother smiled at the look of responsibility that gave him an expression like his father. mrs. morton sighed a little, too, for although she was accustomed to the long absences required of a naval officer yet she never went upon one of these summer migrations without missing the assistance of the father of the family. lieutenant morton had been with the fleet at vera cruz for several months, but although there had been rumors that our ships would be withdrawn and sent north, which might mean a short leave for the lieutenant, it had not come to pass, and it looked as if he would have to spend the summer under the mexican sun. his wife drew a little comfort from the fact that his brother, ethel's father, captain richard morton, was with the land forces under general funston, so that the two men could see each other occasionally. "how far do we have to go on the trolley, mother?" asked dicky, the six-year-old, who had already announced his intention of being a motorman when he grew up, and who always chose a front seat where he could watch the operations that made the car go. "i forget, dear. ask grandmother." "twelve miles, son, and over a road that is full of history for helen. grandfather will tell her all about it. we are turning into it now. do you see the name on the tree?" "'portage street,'" read helen. the party made a brave showing in the car. helen, who was almost as tall as roger and who was in the high school, sat on the front seat with dicky so that he could superintend the motorman's activities. mrs. morton and roger sat behind them, he with his hands full of the long tickets which were to take them all to chautauqua and home again. back of them were the two girl cousins of nearly the same age, about thirteen, both named ethel morton and strikingly alike in appearance. their schoolmates had nicknamed them from the color of their eyes, "ethel brown" and "ethel blue." "ethel brown" was lieutenant morton's daughter, and sister of roger and helen and dicky. "ethel blue" was captain morton's daughter and she had lived almost all her life with her cousins, because her mother had died when she was a tiny baby. grandfather and grandmother emerson, mrs. morton's father and mother, were in the last seat of the four, grandmother eagerly looking out of the window to recall the sights that she had seen on her previous trip to chautauqua, ten years before. "why is it called 'portage street'?" asked helen, when everybody was comfortably settled. helen was fond of history and had just taken a prize offered to the first year class of the high school for the best account of the indians in the colonial days of that part of new jersey where the mortons lived. "'portage' comes from the french word 'carry,' as you high school people know," answered grandfather. "a portage is a place where you have to carry your boat around some obstruction. for instance, suppose you were an indian traveling in a canoe from lake ontario to lake erie, you would have to carry your canoe around the rapids of the niagara river because your little craft could not live in that tremendous current, and around niagara falls because--" "because it couldn't climb a tree," laughed roger. "just about that," accepted grandfather. "are there any waterfalls around here?" asked ethel brown. "not any waterfalls, but the very land we are on was an obstacle to the indians who wanted to travel from canada southward." "oh, i begin to see," said helen. "they paddled across lake erie--" "that was lake erie we were riding side of this morning," interrupted ethel blue. "yes, that was lake erie and the gray cloud that we could see way over the water was canada." "o-oh," cried both ethels at once; "we've seen canada!" "when they reached the american shore," went on grandfather, "they had to carry their canoes over the twelve miles of country that we are passing over now until they reached the head of chautauqua lake." "where we are going!" "just beyond the village of mayville we shall see the very spot where they put their canoes into the water again and tumbled in themselves to paddle southward." "weren't their feet tired?" asked practical dicky. "i guess they were, old man," returned roger, leaning forward to tweak his ear affectionately. "if they were," went on grandfather, "they had plenty of time to rest them, for they didn't have to leave their boats again unless they wanted to until they got to the gulf of mexico." "the gulf of mexico!" rose a chorus that included every member of the party except dicky whose knowledge of geography was limited to a very small section of rosemont, the new jersey town he lived in. "it's a fact," insisted mr. emerson. "the outlet of lake chautauqua is the little stream called the chadakoin river. it flows into conewango creek, and that loses itself in the allegheny river." "i know what happens then," cried ethel brown; "the allegheny and the monongahela join to form the ohio and the ohio empties into the mississippi--" "and the mississippi empties into the gulf of mexico!" concluded ethel blue triumphantly. "good children," commented roger patronizingly as he turned around to give a condescending pat on the two girls' heads. finding that their hats prevented this brotherly and cousinly attention he contented himself with tweaking each one's hair before he turned back as if he had accomplished a serious duty. "can't you see the picture in your mind!" murmured helen, looking out of the window. "just imagine all those tall brown men carrying their canoes on their shoulders and tramping through the forest that must have covered all this region then." "more interesting men than indians went over this stretch of country in the olden days," said mrs. emerson. "who? who?" cried the ethels, and dicky asked, "was it the president?" mr. wilson, the former governor of his own state, having been the most interesting personage he had ever seen. "in a minute grandfather will tell you about the frenchmen who came here, but i want you to notice the farms we are going through now before we climb the hill and leave them behind." "i never saw so many grape vines in all my life," said roger. "no wonder," commented his grandmother. "this is one of the greatest grape-growing districts of the whole united states." "you don't say so!" cried roger. "why is it? is the soil especially good for them?" "do you remember how flat it was in the village of westfield? we are only just now beginning to climb a little, and you see we are some distance from the station and the station is some distance from the lake." "that must mean that there's a strip of flat land lying along the lake," guessed roger. "that's it exactly," said his grandmother. "it's a strip about a hundred miles long and from two to four miles wide, and it is called the grape belt." "i saw a man in the train this morning reading a newspaper called that," said grandfather. "i suppose it is published in one of the towns in the belt," suggested mrs. morton. "i've been told that some of the very best grapes in the country were grown here." "i've read in our geology that sometimes the soil is peculiarly rich in places where there had been water long ages ago," said roger. "perhaps this flat strip used to be a part of lake erie." "i dare say," agreed grandfather. "at any rate the soil seems to be just what the grapes like best, and you can see for yourself as we climb up that these vines look less and less thrifty." "how queerly they train them," commented ethel blue. "i've only seen grapes on arbors before." "you've only seen them where they were wanted for ornament as well as use," said mr. emerson. "along the rhine and in the french vineyards the vines are trained on posts." "letting them run along those wires that connect the posts must give a better chance to every part of the plant, it seems to me," said mrs. emerson. "do you notice that the rows are wide enough apart for a wagon to drive between them? when they are picking, that arrangement saves the work of carrying the baskets to the cart. these are the days when you have to make your head save your heels if you want to compete successfully in the business world." "that's a good stunt in scientific management, isn't it?" commented roger, who had almost made up his mind to enter the factory of one of his grandfather's friends and who read carefully everything he came across about labor-saving machines and time-saving devices. "i wonder if westfield isn't the place where secretary bryan gets his grape juice," said mrs. morton. "i noticed a big establishment of some kind after we left the station." "there are two or three grape juice factories there," said her mother, "so i shouldn't be a bit surprised." "it's good stuff," and roger's lips moved as if he were remembering the grape juice lemonade that was a pleasant part of the refreshments at the high school graduation reception. "i've never been here in picking time," went on mrs. emerson, "but i've been told that it is something like the hop picking in kent in england." "i've read about that," said helen. "people who aren't well go down there and live out of doors and the fresh air and the fragrance of the hops does them a lot of good." "it's much the same here. people come from buffalo and cleveland to 'work in grapes' as they call it." "i should think it would be pretty hard work." "it must be, for the picker has to be on his feet all day, but he is paid according to the amount he picks, so his employer does not lose if he sits down to rest occasionally or stops to look over at the lake." mrs. emerson made a gesture that caused them all to turn their heads in the direction they were leaving. "what is it, grandmother? a cloud?" asked helen. grandmother smiled and shook her head. "look again," she insisted. "i see, i see," cried ethel brown. "the front part is water, blue water, and that's canada way, way off beyond." sure enough it was, for the car had climbed so high that they could look right over westfield to the vineyards that lay between the railroad track and the lake, and then on across the water to the dim coast line of another country. "there's a steamer! oh, see, mother," cried roger, pointing to a feather of black smoke that hung against the sky. "and i believe that's a sail boat with the sun on it quite near the shore on this side," returned mrs. morton. "we must make an excursion some day this summer to barcelona," said mrs. emerson. "when i was here before we had a delightful picnic there." "where is it?" asked her husband. "that sail is just off it, i should say," she replied. "it is a tiny fishing village, with nets hung up picturesquely to dry and cliffs on one side and a beach on the other." "i wonder how it got its name," questioned roger, who always gathered bits of stray information as he went along and never lost anything because of shyness in asking questions. "they say," replied his grandmother, "that barcelona was the very spot at which the indians from canada used to land when they came over to make a visit on this side of the great lake." "the place was known long ago, then." "apparently. so it wasn't strange that when some spanish and portuguese fishermen a long time afterwards wanted to establish a fishing business somewhere along the shore they chose this locality." "can we fish when we go there?" asked ethel blue. "if grandfather and roger will take you out. or we can all go in a motor boat." "wow, wow, wow!" this was an expression of joy from dicky who was happy if he could go anywhere with roger, happier if his grandfather went, too, and happiest if the excursion was in a boat. his father's love of the water had become his, also. "right on the top of this hill," said grandmother, whose memory was serving her well after ten years, "there used to be an inn in the old stagecoach days. a man named button kept it." "button's inn," murmured mrs. morton. "why does that sound familiar to me?" "probably you've read judge tourgée's novel of that name. the scene was laid hereabouts, and the drawing is all good because the author lived in mayville." "where's that?" asked ethel blue. "we're coming to it in a few minutes." "don't you remember grandfather said the indians used to put their canoes in lake chautauqua just after they passed mayville?" said ethel brown severely. roger roared. "he did," insisted ethel, flushing. "as if mayville was built then," chortled roger, and all the rest of them laughed unsympathetically except mrs. morton who leaned back and nodded to her daughter. "never mind," she said. "we can't be expected to know every date in the history book, can we?" the town of mayville, perched on its ridge with distant views visible between the houses, and fields and low hills rolling away from its elevation, seemed bright and attractive to the travellers. the new courthouse stood resplendent in the heart of the village, and just beyond it the road fell to the head of chautauqua lake. "here's where your indian friends got in their fine work," called roger who had been going from one side of the car to the other so that nothing might escape his eyes. ethel would have liked to stick out her tongue at him, but she knew that her mother had a strong objection to that expression of disapproval so she contented herself with scowling terribly at her brother. "what is the story about the frenchmen, grandfather?" asked helen. "you forgot to tell us." "so i did, but grandmother says that we are so near to chautauqua now, so i shall have to postpone it until we have a rainy evening." "are we really almost there?" cried the two ethels, rushing to the other side of the car. "see, how near the lake is. see, there's a high fence with buildings behind it--a funny old fence!" "that's _the_ famous chautauqua fence, i suspect," said mrs. morton, smiling. "why famous? how long is it? what's that little tent on the other side? oh, what funny, tiny houses!" everybody chattered and nobody paid much attention to grandmother although she answered patiently every question. "it's famous because there isn't another town in the united states that is surrounded by a fence. it's a mile along the road and about a half mile at each end from the road to the lake. that's a fence guard's tent. what's a fence guard? a man to show the nearest way to the gate to people who want to take a short cut through the fence. that's piano-town. the people who are studying music practice in those little houses where they won't annoy their neighbors in the living cottages." "here we are," cried grandfather. "have you all got your bundles? don't forget your hat, dicky." "'all ashore that's going ashore,'" quoted roger who had seen many steamers sail, and then he suddenly grew quiet and assisted his mother with his best manner, for on the platform were several young men who looked as if they might be good friends if they were impressed at the start that he was worth while and not just a kid; and there were also some girls of helen's age and a little older whose appearance he liked extremely. chapter ii getting settled getting the emerson-morton party inside the grounds of chautauqua institution was no mean undertaking. roger was still acting as courier and he asked his mother to wait until the other passengers from the car had gone through the turnstile so that the gateman might give them his undivided attention. they all had to have season tickets and when these had been made out then one after another the family pushed the stile and the gateman punched number one from the numerals on their tickets as they passed. "if only you were eighty or over you would have your ticket given you by the institution, father," said mrs. morton. "thank you, i'm a long way outside of that class," retorted mr. emerson with some tartness. "what's the idea of the punching?" asked helen, of her grandmother. "you have to show your ticket every time you go outside of the fence or out on the lake," explained mrs. emerson. "the odd numbers are punched when you come in--as we do now--and the even numbers when you go out. it circumvents several little tricks that people more smart than honest have tried to play on the administration at one time or another." "why do we have to pay, anyway?" asked roger. "i never went to a summer resort before where you had to pay to go in." "that's because you never went to one that gave you amusement of all sorts. here you can go to lectures and concerts all day long and you don't have to pay a cent for them. this entrance fee covers everything of that sort. where else on the planet can you go to something like twenty or more events in the course of the day for the sum of twelve and a half cents which is about what the grown-up season ticket holder pays for his fun." "nowhere, i'll bet," responded roger promptly. "are there really as many as that?" "there are a great many more if you count in all the things that are going on at the various clubs and all the classes in the summer schools." "don't you have to pay for those?" "there's a small fee for all instruction because classes require teachers, and teachers must be paid; and the clubs call for a small fee because they have expenses which they must meet. but all the public entertainments are free." "this is just the place i've been looking for ever since father gave me an allowance," grinned roger, whose struggles with his account book were a family joke. "mother," drawled dicky in a voice that seemed on the verge of tears, "why don't we ride? i'm so tired i can hardly walk." "poor lamb, there aren't any trolleys here or any station carriages," explained mrs. morton. "roger, can't you get another porter to take your bags while you carry dicky?" thus reinforced the new jersey army marched down the hill from the road gate to the square. mrs. morton had taken a cottage, and the porters said that they knew exactly where it was situated. roger, bearing dicky perched upon his shoulder, walked between them soaking up information all the way. he noticed that both young men wore letters on their sweaters, and he discovered after a brief examination that they were both college men who were athletes at their respective institutions. "there are lots of fellows here doing this," one of them said. "working, you mean?" "i sure do. jo and i think you really have more fun if you're working than if you don't. there are college boys rustling baggage at the trolley station where you came in, and at the steamer landing, and lots of the boarding houses have them doing all sorts of things. jo and i wait on table for our meals at the bismarck cottage." "do you get your room, too?" "we get our rooms by being janitors at two of the halls where they hold classes. we get up early and sweep them out every day and we set the chairs in order after every class. then we do this porter act at certain hours." "so your summer really isn't costing you anything." "i shall come out a little bit ahead, railroad ticket and all. jo lives farther away and he won't quite cover his expenses unless something new and lucrative turns up--like tutoring." "or running a power boat, henry," smiled silent jo. "did you get that job at the springers?" asked henry eagerly. "i did, and it's more profitable than toting bags." "good for you," exclaimed the genial henry, and roger added his congratulations, for the young men were so frank about their business undertakings that he was deeply interested. the ethels, walking at the end of the procession, held each other's hands tightly so that they might look about without straying off the sidewalk. "it's queer for a country place, isn't it?" commented ethel brown. "i haven't seen a cow or a chicken since we came in the gate." "the houses are so close together there isn't any room for them," suggested ethel blue. "i haven't seen a cat either." "i know why. mother told me she read in a booklet they sent her that there was a bird club and you know bird people are always down on cats. they must have sent them all out of town." "oh, here's quite a large square. see, there are stores in that big brick building with the columns and the place opposite says post office--" "and there's a soda fountain under that pergola." "dicky's hollering for soda right now." "mother won't let him have any so early in the morning but we'll remember where the place is." yet the procession seemed to be slowing up at the head and, oh, joy, there was grandfather making a distribution of ice-cream cones to grown-ups and children alike. even the porters ate theirs with evident pleasure, consuming the very last scrap of the cone itself. then they led the way down a very steep hill and along a pleasant path to a cottage that faced the blue water of the lake. "here you are," they said to mrs. morton. "and this must be our landlord's son waiting to open the house for us," said mrs. morton as a boy of roger's age came forward to meet them. her guess was right and james hancock instantly proved himself an agreeable and useful friend. the hancocks lived in new jersey in a town not far from the mortons, but they never had happened to meet at home. "how many people are there here now?" asked roger as james helped him carry the bags into the house. "oh, i don't know just how many to-day, but there are usually about twelve or fifteen thousand at a time when the season gets started." "there must be awful crowds." "the people do bunch up at lectures and concerts but if you don't like crowds you don't have to go, you know." "what do the fellows our age do?" "swim and row and sail. do you like the water?" "my father is in the navy," replied roger as if that was a sufficient answer. "then you'll go in for all the water sports. the older chaps in the athletic club let us use their club house sometimes, and they say that this summer there's going to be a club especially for boys of our age--too old for the boys' club and too young for the athletic club." "good enough, i'll join," declared roger, who was the most sociable lad on earth. "can i help your mother any more? so long, then. i live two houses off--in that red one over there just beyond the boarding house--so i'll see you a lot," and james leaped over the rail of the porch and strolled off toward the pier. "he seems like a nice boy," said mrs. morton; "i'm glad he lives so near." "i wonder if he has any sisters," queried helen. "did you ask him, roger?" roger had not and he admitted to himself that it was a mistake he would remedy the next time he saw james. just as he was thinking about it the baggage wagon drove up with the trunks. on top was jo, the porter. "hullo," he called. "hullo," returned roger. "i didn't know you rustled trunks as well as bags." "i don't. i rode down to ask you something," and he proceeded to swing down a trunk to the other two young men as if to hurry up matters so that he could attend to his errand. "now, what is it?" asked roger when all the pieces of luggage had been placed about the house to his mother's satisfaction, and the dray had gone. "i don't know whether you'll care for it or not, but you were so interested i thought i'd give you first chance if you did want it," jo tried to explain. "want what?" "my job. you see how i've got this work for the springers running their motor boat i've got to be somewhere within call of their house about all the time, so they've given me a room there, and i shall have to give up janitoring and bag-toting and waiting on table and everything. i thought if you'd like to try one or all of my jobs i'd speak about you and perhaps you could get in. as late as this you generally can't find any work, there are so many applications. what do you say?" roger thought a moment. "i'd like like thunder to do something," he said, and added, flushing: "i suppose you'll think it queer but i've never earned anything in my life and i'm just crazy to." "there are awfully good fellows doing it here. you've seen me and henry," jo went on humorously, "and a son of one of the professors is a janitor and the nephew of another one is waiting on table at the same cottage i am, and--" "oh, i wouldn't be ashamed to do anything honest," roger said quickly. "i was thinking about mother. you see with father in mexico i sort of have to be the man of the family. i shouldn't want to undertake things that would keep me from being useful to her." "and you've got a good house here so you don't need a room, so i guess i'll just run along," answered jo. "wait a minute," cried roger. "let me speak to mother." just at that moment mrs. morton came out on the porch, a little frown of anxiety on her face. "here you are, roger--and you, too,--mr.--" "sampson," filled in jo. "mr. sampson. i came out to consult with you, roger. it seems to me that the room in the top story that i counted on for you is going to be so warm that you can't possibly sleep there. i wish you'd run up and look at it." roger's face burst into a happy smile. "good enough, mother, i hope it is a roaster," he cried. mrs. morton looked perplexed. "jo came to tell me that he thinks he can get me his janitor's job that will earn me my room," roger explained. "if you don't mind i'd like mighty well to do it, and it will settle this trouble here." "would you really like it?" "you bet." "you'd have to stick to it; and it might mean that you'd have to give up some pleasures that you'd have otherwise." "i know. i'm willing, mother," insisted roger eagerly. "i don't see, then, why you shouldn't take it," said mrs. morton slowly, "and we shall be much obliged to you if you can arrange it for roger," she continued, smiling at sampson. "how about the table-waiting and the bag-toting?" he inquired. "i think one job will be about all he'd better undertake for his first experience," decided mrs. morton. "i should be sorry not to have him with the family at meals, and i want him to have time for some sports." "all right, then, i'll try to fix it up," said jo, and he swung off up the path, pulling off his cap to mrs. morton as she nodded "good-bye" to him. "hi," exclaimed roger joyfully as jo disappeared; "isn't he a good chap! now then, mater, if your oldest son were a little younger or your younger son were a little older one of them might be a caddy on the golf links and earn his ice-cream cones that way," and he danced a few joyous steps for his mother's admiration. "if you undertake a thing like this you'll have to stick to it," mrs. morton warned again, for roger's chief fault was that he tired quickly of one thing after another. "a postage stamp'll be nothing to me, and you're a duck to let me do it. here, kids," he cried as the two ethels came out of the house, "gaze on me! i'm a horny-handed son of toil. i belong to the laboring classes. i earn my living--or rather my rooming--by the perspiration of my eyebrow," and he explained the situation to the admiring girls and to helen, who joined them. "i wish there was something i could do," sighed helen enviously. "i suppose i could wait on table somewhere." "i'm afraid it will have to be in this cottage right here," responded her mother. "even when mary comes to-morrow we shall be short handed so everybody will have to help." mary had been roger's nurse and had stayed on in the family until now, when dicky was too old to need a nurse, she had become a working housekeeper. she had remained behind to put the rosemont house in order after the family left, and she was expected to arrive the next day by the same train that had brought the family. "i will, mother," said helen. "it's only that doing something to earn your living seems to be in the air here, and i must have caught a germ on the way down from the trolley gate." "you'll be doing something to earn your living by helping at home, and all you would get by waiting on table at a boarding cottage would be your meals and not money." "still, it would relieve father's pocketbook if there were one mouth less to feed." "true, dear, but father is quite willing to pay that much for his daughter's service to her family, if you want to look at it in that light." "it sounds sort of horrid and mercenary, but when i'm older then i'll really do some sort of work and repay father," and mrs. morton nodded her appreciation of helen's understanding that a lieutenant's pay is pretty small to bring up four children on. "this is an age of mutual help and service," she said. "we must be a co-operative family and help each other in every way we can. what you will do for me this summer will be just as much help to me as what roger will do by providing himself with a room." "somehow doing things at home never seems to count," complained helen. "but it does count. service is like charity; they both begin at home." "i know just how you feel, though, sis," confided roger when his mother had gone into the house. "i don't think i ever felt so good in all my life as i do this minute just because i'm going to earn my own room." chapter iii opening of the assembly "now then, people dear," said grandmother, joining the group on the porch, "even if we don't have the house in the exact order that we want it in to-day we must take time to go to the formal opening of the assembly." "what happens?" asked helen. "if there's a lecture," said roger apprehensively, "me for the woods." "if you stand on the edge of the amphitheatre you can slip away after the introduction but it is worth your while to be present when the gavel falls because you want to follow every important event as it happens right through the season." so the whole family fell into line when the bell in the tower on the lake shore rang to indicate that in five minutes a meeting would begin. "that tower has been built since i was here," said mrs. emerson. "it's called the miller memorial tower," said ethel blue gravely. "how in the world did you find that out so quickly?" "we saw it from the porch and ran down there to look at it," she replied. when either of the ethels said "we" the other ethel was the partner in the plural form. "who told you it was called the miller tower?" "a nice girl about our age who was sitting on the bench near it. she heard us wondering and she came over and said it was named in memory of mr. miller. he was one of the founders of chautauqua institution." "he's dead now," explained ethel brown, "but bishop vincent is alive and he'll be here on the grounds in a few days. he's the other founder. he's the one that had the idea." "what idea?" asked helen. "dorothy said--" "who is dorothy?" "dorothy is the girl who was talking to us. dorothy said it was a great idea that bishop vincent had to make people come out into the woods to study and to hear lectures and music." "bishop vincent is a remarkable man," said grandmother, who had been listening with interest to the girls' explanations. "you are lucky young people to be able to see him and perhaps to speak to him." from the lake the family procession walked up another steep hill to the amphitheatre, a huge structure with a sloping floor, covered with benches, and having a roof but no sides. at one end was a platform and behind it rose the golden pipes of a large organ. the audience was gathering rapidly. only the pit was full, for on this opening day of the assembly people had not yet come in great numbers, while many, like the emersons and mortons, had but just arrived and were not settled. as the bell finished ringing the director of the institution walked upon the stage and after rapping three times with his gavel declared the assembly open. "chautauqua institution has three activities;" he said, "its assembly, its summer schools and its all-the-year-round home reading course. its work never begins and never ends. chautauqua has given a new word to the language; has been the pioneer in summer assemblies and summer schools, and has become the recognized leader of the world in home education. since the chautauqua movement has spread until there are , summer gatherings in this country alone which have taken the name. "during these years this platform here at chautauqua has been one of the greatest forums of our modern life. here every good movement has received a hearty welcome. during the first year, from this place went out the call for the organization of the women's christian temperance union. here was held the first successful summer school in america. "here new organizations have found their first opportunity. here great political and social and economic problems have been discussed by those who by knowledge and experience are able to speak with authority. chautauqua, the place, has been beautified and equipped with every convenience for community life. it has been a paradise for little children, has offered every opportunity for wholesome recreation, has given the best of music, literature, poetry and art freely to those who enjoy them. "every one who enjoys any of the privileges of this great institution has a corresponding measure of obligation. the measure of what you take away from chautauqua is wholly determined by what you bring to it. no system of lectures or of individual study can compare with this great co-operative opportunity which chautauqua gives for living together, for working out one's own intellectual and religious salvation in terms of intercourse with others. here are gathered people of vision, people who are striving for efficiency of personality, people who realize that we live in a time of new opportunities and new duties." a burst of applause followed these inspiring words. then the young people all left quietly, except roger, who stayed with the elders after all, when he found that the speaker was to be the president of berea college, kentucky. roger had read of president wilson's calling these southern highlanders "a part of the original stuff of which america was made," and he wanted to hear about their sturdy life from a man who knew them well. the girls went exploring toward the southern end of the grounds. "i believe this must be the girls' club," said ethel brown. "dorothy told us where it was. she said she was going to join it." "they learn to make baskets and to cook and to swim and to do folk dancing and all sorts of things," explained ethel blue. "don't you think aunt marion will let us belong, helen?" "i'm sure she will," agreed helen, as they went up the steps of the hospitable looking building and peered through the windows. "when will it open?" "next week. i'm perfectly crazy about it; i can hardly wait," and one ethel seized the other ethel's hand and skipped down the steps with her. "this next place must be the boys' club building if there is such a thing," said helen. "there is," cried ethel brown. "dorothy told us so." "dorothy seems to know all about everything." "she does. she was here last summer, and she says she has been all over the united states and she never had such a good time anywhere as she had here." "we'll certainly have to belong, then. are there any girls as old as i am?" "yes, and i asked if dicky was too little to belong to the boys' club and dorothy said that he wasn't if he wasn't babyish." "dicky isn't babyish." "i told her that he could dress himself and that mary didn't pay much attention to him any more and that he tried to do all the things that he saw roger do and that he went on really long walks with us." "so she thought they'd take him." "i told her roger called him a 'good little sport' and she said she guessed he was all right." "over there must be the bathing beach," said ethel blue as they turned away from the lake and started up another hilly street lined with houses. "i hope there's a swimming teacher for you girls," said helen. "father taught me when i was smaller than you are, but you've never had a chance to learn yet." "i'm going to learn this summer if i don't do another thing," exclaimed ethel brown enthusiastically. "so am i," said ethel blue. at the top of the hill the girls came out on an open place with a rustic fountain in the centre. at the left was a beautiful building shaped like a greek temple. it was creamy in color and gleamed softly against a background of trees. "what is that do you suppose?" wondered ethel blue. "a-u-l-a c-h-r-i-s-t-i," spelled ethel brown as they stood gazing at the inscription over the door. "what does that mean?" "_aula, aula_," repeated helen slowly. "oh, i know; it's latin for _hall_. that must mean hall of christ. it looks quite new." "probably it's another thing that's been built since grandmother was here." "we must ask her about it. perhaps they have church there." "it's a lot prettier than this building," and ethel blue nodded her head toward a large wooden house painted cream color. "c.l.s.c. alumni hall," she read. "what does that mean?" "children, ladies, sons and chickens," guessed ethel brown. "come let's see chautauqua," contributed ethel blue. "chautauqua literary and scientific circle," supplied a pleasant voice and the girls turned to meet the smile of a tall, slender woman who was on her way into the building. "that's the name of the association that does the home reading course work." "oh, i know," cried helen; "grandmother joined when she was here ten years ago and mother and grandfather belong, too." "did your grandmother graduate?" asked the lady, who seemed much interested. "she had her diploma sent to her. she hasn't been here since that first time." "you must tell her that she must watch the _daily_ for notices of meetings of her class and that there are many festivities during recognition week that she can take part in." "grandfather and mother are in this year's class," said helen shyly. it proved that the lady knew their names and where they lived. "you see i am the executive secretary of the c.l.s.c.," she explained in answer to the girls' look of surprise, "so i correspond with many people whom i never have a chance to meet unless they come here in the summer." "why, you must be miss kimball," cried helen. "i've heard mother speak of having letters from you." "yes, i'm miss kimball, and i hope you're going to be a reader when your school work gives you time for it." "it will be roger's turn to join next," said ethel brown timidly; "he's older than helen. and ethel blue and i'll belong later. there ought to be some member of the family joining every little while so that we can all go to special things every summer we come up here." miss kimball laughed. "i see you're already converted to chautauqua though this is only your first day," she said. "would you like to go into the c.l.s.c. building? i have an errand here and then i'll walk over to the hall of philosophy with you." the interior of the c.l.s.c. building was not more beautiful than the exterior, but it was full of interest as miss kimball explained it to her new companions. the c.l.s.c. classes, it seemed, occupied the rooms for their meetings. so many classes had graduated since the reading work began in that they could no longer have separate rooms. sometimes three or four occupied the same room. "there are plans on foot now," said miss kimball, "to have each room's decoration designed by an artist and when that is done it will be as perfect to look at as it is now to feel, for the c.l.s.c. spirit is always harmonious if the color schemes aren't. "here is your mother's and grandfather's classroom, down stairs near the door. you've seen that every room has its treasures, its mementoes that mean a great deal to the class members. the class hasn't had time to pick up mementoes yet but they have a really valuable ornament in these pictures. they are from a first edition of 'nicholas nickleby' which one of the members found in her attic and sacrificed to the good cause." the girls examined carefully the funny drawings of men with impossible legs and women with extraordinary skirts. then they glanced at the bust above them. "it's dickens," said helen. " is the 'dickens class.' they began to read in the english year--the year when all the topics were about england--so they took the name of an english author. now if you've seen enough we can go over to the hall of philosophy for a minute before i must go back to my office." the three girls were almost overcome by the wonder of being at chautauqua only one day and meeting and talking with this officer whose name had been familiar to helen, at least, for a long time. her geniality prevented them from being speechless, however, and they walked across the open place with happy thoughts of all they would have to tell the family when they got home. the rustic fountain was a gift from a c. l. s. c. class, they learned as they passed it, and here, ahead of them was the hall of philosophy. "it's almost exactly like the picture in helen's 'history of greece,'" cried ethel blue, "the temple at athens, you know." "the parthenon," murmured helen. "it does make you think of the parthenon," said miss kimball. "in a small way this is beautiful, too, in its setting of green trees, though that was larger of course and its stone pillars gleamed against the vivid blue sky." "you must have seen it," guessed helen, struck by the enjoyment of miss kimball's tone. "ah, athens is one of the joyous memories of my life!" she exclaimed. like the amphitheatre the building had no sides. the dark beams of the roof were supported by pillars and the breeze blew softly through. miss kimball and the girls sat down to rest a while. a sort of wide pulpit faced them, and the chairs were arranged before it in a semi-circle. "see those mosaic squares laid in the floor," cried ethel brown. "they are all different. look, each one has a name on it and a date and a flower or something." "they have been put in by the c.l.s.c. classes," explained miss kimball, and helen added, "i remember reading in mother's chautauqua magazine that her class had their tablet put down last summer but it was not to be dedicated until this summer when a lot of people would be here to graduate. let's see if we can find one marked dickens." "they're all put in in order," cried ethel brown. "the numbers run right along except where there's a square skipped once in a while. yes, yes, here's mother's; here's the dickens square," and the little group gathered around the dickens tablet, feeling an ownership that they had not felt before. they were yet to learn that everybody has a sense of ownership at chautauqua because all the public buildings are built for everybody and are used by everybody all the time. "here are 'dickens' and ' ' on aunty's square," said ethel blue, "and a rose." "the english rose is the class flower," said miss kimball. "is the course very hard?" asked ethel blue shyly. "we say it's 'easy for anybody; worth while for everybody,'" laughed miss kimball. "we don't mean to make it hard; just sensible and--well, 'worth while' describes it as well as anything." "we'll be awfully proud of helen when she belongs," said loyal ethel blue, slipping her arm around her tall cousin's waist. "be sure to tell your grandmother that she may pass through the golden gate on recognition day behind the graduating class," said miss kimball, smiling and walking quickly away to her work. the girls called after her a "good-bye" and thanks for her guidance. leaving the hall they turned in the direction of home, passing through a street lined with cottages, one of which, they noticed, was marked "unitarian headquarters," another "baptist house," and another "disciples' house," while up a side street they saw a lutheran sign. "they seem to have houses instead of churches here," said ethel blue. "i noticed a 'methodist house' back of the amphitheatre," said helen. "and a 'congregational house' on one side and a 'presbyterian house' on the other," cried ethel blue. "you can go to any kind you want to just the same as if you were at home. look, the people are coming out of the amphitheatre now," she added. "there's mother--there are grandmother and grandfather. hullo, hullo," called ethel brown, and the two children tore along the matting laid down beside the auditorium to keep the noise of passing feet from disturbing the audiences. "what do you think we did? whom do you think we saw?" they cried breathlessly, and recited all their adventures as fast as they could talk. "you're very lucky children," said grandfather, "and we must celebrate the event," so they went across the square and investigated the refreshment booth in the pergola. then the elders strolled slowly back over the road the young people had just come, for there was to be a reading at five o'clock in the hall of philosophy and they thought they would see the hall of christ and the c.l.s.c. building before it began. helen and the ethels went with them part of the way and then turned down a side street to catch a glimpse of the lake again. "perhaps we'll come across roger somewhere," said helen. but it was not roger but james hancock whom they met as they walked along the lake front. chapter iv personally conducted james pulled off his cap as the girls bowed to him. "did you know this was the bishop's house you're in front of?" he whispered, glancing up at the veranda to make sure that he was not overheard. "which is the house, the wooden part or the tent?" asked ethel brown. "when he first came here forty years ago there were only one or two houses and for a summer or two everybody lived in tents." "what fun!" cried ethel blue. "the seasons weren't very long then, only two weeks, so nobody minded if things weren't very comfortable. the bishop and mr. miller had these combination arrangements built because they had lots of guests and needed larger places." "i wonder if there are any people here now who came that first summer?" "yes, indeed, my father was here then. he was a little kid in skirts." "naturally he doesn't remember anything about it." "no, but my grandmother brought him and she often tells me about it. you just wait till old first night. there are often twenty people who stand up when they ask how many present were here at the first session. the chancellor, that's bishop vincent, was here, of course, and his son, he's the president now, and the executive secretary of the c.l.s.c.--" "that's miss kimball. we know her. we just met her," and they told their new friend all about it. "you're sure in luck," was his comment. "old first night is the anniversary of the very first meeting, i suppose." "just you wait and see," hinted james promisingly. "grandmother thinks it's the most interesting thing that happens all summer." "how long have we got to wait?" asked ethel blue who liked to have things happen right off. "till the first tuesday in august." "that won't be for a long time. isn't anything interesting going to happen before then?" "oodles of things. next week all the clubs begin and a little later there'll be a pageant, and the spelling match is great." "why?" questioned ethel blue in a doubtful tone that made the others smile. "you can see what ethel blue thinks about spelling," laughed helen. "why is it such good fun?" "oh, it's fun to see the grown-up people trying it just as if they were kids. they don't let anybody under fifteen go in. mr. vincent, the president, says young people are 'such uncomfortably good spellers.'" "ethel blue wouldn't agree with him." "it's true, though, because when you're in school you're getting practice every day, and the grown-up people don't get so much practice. they look up words in the dictionary instead of remembering the right way to spell them." "it must be funny to see grown-up people fail, but i suppose they give them the hardest words there are." "they take the words out of the home reading course books for the next year. miss kimball told you about the home reading course, didn't she?" "oh, we knew before," the girls all cried in chorus. "our grandmother is a graduate." "and aunt marion is in this year's class." "and so is grandfather." "my father is, too," said james. "he's a doctor, you know, and he says that if he didn't read that he wouldn't know anything but bones and fevers." "what does he mean?" asked ethel brown, who liked to have everything perfectly clear. "he means he wouldn't read anything but his medical journals and he'd 'go stale.'" "is your father coming on recognition day?" "he's coming if nobody has a smashed head or smallpox just at the wrong time. he says he wouldn't miss it for anything. the recognition day procession marches along this path we're on." "when will recognition day be?" asked ethel brown. "the middle of august." ethel blue groaned. "everything is so far off!" she exclaimed. "here's the hotel--the hotel athenæum," and james nodded toward a large building with a tower and with a veranda on which guests were sitting looking out upon the lake. "the band concerts are right here all summer. the band plays up on the hotel piazza and the people walk around below here and sit on the grass. it looks pretty when the girls have on pretty dresses." "are there lots of girls here?" asked helen. "about five million," returned james cheerfully. "i've got a sister who's going over to call on you as soon as she sees you on your porch. that's the only way people can make calls here. everybody's out all the time going to lectures and classes so you have to catch them when you see them." "you're neighbors so we'll see her right off," said helen hopefully. "what's this building?" "this is the arcade. there are some shops in it and doctors and things. the women all learn to embroider here--see, round this corner on the piazza is where the teacher stays. mother goes there all the time, and my married sister. you know they joke at chautauqua women for embroidering right through lectures and concerts. somebody wrote some rhymes about it once." "let's have them." "i never fail to oblige when i'm asked for them. listen. it's dedicated 'to the wool-gatherers.' "i don't go out on sundays at chautauqua, for you see to just set still and listen, are the hardest things that be. "at 'devotional' 'tis different, there my crochet-work i take, the one-two-three, skip-two, do-one, just keeps me wide awake. "i haint heard much the preacher said to-day,--i dropped a stitch-- but 'twas splendid, and i think 'twas on the duties of the rich. "with lectures, sermons, concerts, and all such things as that, 'tis nice to think they culture me while i set there and tat. "all hail to old chautauqua, i'll carry off this year, some thirty yards of edging, to prove that i was here." "right here on this open space is where they used to have the lectures forty years ago," james went on, somewhat abashed by the applause he received. "it's called miller park now." "what became of the hall?" "there never was any hall. there was a raised platform and the people sat in front of it and when it rained they had to put up their umbrellas." "the trees have grown since, i suppose." "there were trees there then, but they thinned them out to make room. the first houses were built around the edge of the open place. those over there are some of the original articles." the girls saw a row of small cottages rising side by side, their porches almost touching. "they aren't bad looking," said james patronizingly, "but the institution doesn't allow houses to be built so close together now." "why not?" "they say that there's no reason why a cottage shouldn't be as good looking on a small scale as a big house and no house can look its best if it's jammed up into another one's lap, so now they require people to leave some land around them." they had crossed miller park and passed between two houses to a walk that ran along the lakeside. "here's our house, right here," said james, "and there's margaret on the porch now." "and dorothy," cried the ethels together. margaret hancock ran down the steps at her brother's call and asked her new friends to stay a while. "if you don't mind making the first call," she laughed. she was a clear-eyed girl, not as pretty as helen, but with a frank expression that was pleasant to see. "nobody stands on ceremony at chautauqua," she went on, "and if you want to see anybody you've got to seize her right where you find her." they all laughed, for she had used almost the same words as her brother. "you see how the hancock family holds together," said james. "this is dorothy smith." margaret introduced the young girl on the porch to helen, for she was already speaking to the ethels. "helen, helen," they cried, "this is our friend dorothy we told you about." helen looked with interest at the girl who had seemed to know all about chautauqua as her new acquaintances reported her conversation. she saw a girl about the age of the ethels but not so tall and lacking in their appearance of vigor. otherwise she was not unlike them, for she had curly brown hair and her nose was just the least bit "puggy," to use roger's descriptive word. her eyes, however, were unlike either ethels', for they were gray. she had easy manners with a pretty touch of shyness that seemed to helen quite remarkable since she had travelled all over the united states. "i wouldn't miss the girls' club for anything," she was saying. "i learned how to make lots of things there last summer, and at christmas time i sold enough to pay my club fee this year, and more too." helen looked at her with renewed interest. here was a girl two years younger than she and she was earning money to pay for her pleasures this summer. it gave her something to think about. "you and i must join the young women's vacation club," said margaret to helen. "they say they are going to have picnics and plays and great fun. it's a new club." "i certainly shall. what kinds of things did you learn to make?" helen asked dorothy. "i put almost all my time on baskets. mother said she thought it was better to learn how to do one thing very well than to do a lot of things just middling well; so i learned how to make ten different kinds of baskets and trays." "all different shapes?" "different materials, too; wicker and splints and rushes and some pretty grasses that i found across the lake one afternoon when mother and i went over to maple springs on the steamer." "i know they were beauties," said helen heartily. "they were," confirmed margaret. "i saw some of them. i thought the prettiest of all was that small tray made of pine needles." "pine needles!" exclaimed james. "how could you work with them? i should think they'd come bristling out all the time." "they were needles from the long-leaved pine that grows in the south. i got them in north carolina when mother and i were there the winter before." "and you sold a lot of them?" ventured helen, who was not quite sure that it was polite to ask such a question but who was eager to know just how dorothy had managed. "it was easy," explained dorothy simply. "mother and i were in a town in illinois last winter. mother was teaching embroidery in an art store, so she got acquainted with the ladies who were getting up a bazar at christmas time and they let me sell my things there on commission." "on commission? what's that?" asked ethel blue to helen's relief, for she did not like to acknowledge that she did not know. "on commission? why, i made a table full of baskets and when they sold them they kept one-tenth of the price for their commission. it was like paying rent for the table you see and a salary to a clerk to sell it. that's the way mother explained it to me," ended dorothy rather shyly, for james was staring at her with astonishment that a girl and not a very old girl either should know as much as that about business. "hullo, here comes roger," he exclaimed. "let's hear what he's been up to," and he left the porch by his usual method--over the rail--and joined his new friend before he reached the house. as they strolled off the girls heard scraps of conversation about "baseball," "first and second crew" and "sailing match." "are you all going to the amphitheatre this evening?" asked margaret as the mortons prepared to leave. "i think mother will let us go to-night because it's our first night and we're crazy to see everything," replied ethel brown, "but she says we've got to go to bed early here just as we do at home or else we'll get thin instead of fat this summer." "mother lets me go whenever there are pictures," said margaret. "often there are splendid travel lectures that are illustrated. i love those. and once in a while i go to a concert in the evening, but usually i go to the afternoon concerts instead." "do you suppose we'll ever be big enough to go to bed just as late as we want to?" ethel blue asked helen as they went up the steps of their own house. "even roger doesn't do that. i remember father's telling me once that he used to growl about going to bed early when he was a boy and that when the time finally came when he could go to bed as late as he liked he didn't care anything about it and used to go early half the time." "i don't believe i shall be that way," sighed ethel. "how queer grown people are!" but since they had these curious and insistent ideas about the need of repose she eagerly took advantage of any break in the routine such as was offered by the chance to go to the amphitheatre that evening. it was a wonderful sight, the immense open building, the glittering organ, the brilliant electric lights, and, facing the thousands of people that made up the audience, a slender woman with a marvellously rich voice, who sang negro melodies and told negro stories that brought laughter and tears. after the recital was over the whole audience went to the lakeside, and there watched the lighting of the signal fires that for years have flashed to the country around the news that another assembly has opened. higher and higher the flames roared at different points along the shore. point chautauqua, across the water, saw the beacon and flashed on the news down the lake until fires far beyond the sight of the people on the assembly grounds told their story to the dwellers near-by and the glare of the sky passed it farther afield. "isn't it just too wonderful," whispered ethel blue to ethel brown, and ethel brown answered, "i can't believe we're really here." chapter v learning to swim by the middle of the next week the ethels were established in the girls' club and the club was well under way. dorothy went with them on the opening morning and introduced them to the director of the club so that they felt no embarrassment in beginning their new activities. miss roberts was a fresh-faced, wholesome young woman whose cordial manner made the girls think of their teacher at home. they liked her at once, and so they were eager to follow any suggestions that she made. the very first was that which dorothy's mother had urged upon her the summer before, the suggestion which had made so good a basket-maker of her that she had been able to sell her work during the winter. "it's a great deal better for you to work hard at one thing," said miss roberts in a little speech she made at the opening of the club, "than to learn a little bit about several things. don't be a 'jack of all trades and good at none' girl; be a thorough work-woman at whatever craft you select. pick out the thing you think is going to interest you most and put your whole strength on it." "stenciling for me," whispered dorothy, "and invalids' cooking." "me, too," said ethel brown, who admired her new friend so much that she wanted to have the pleasure of being in the same class with her. ethel blue looked disturbed when she heard what the others were saying, for she had made up her mind to learn basketry, but it seemed rather forlorn to be in a class with girls she did not know at all. she thought she would ask miss roberts what she thought about it. "another thing i want every girl here to do," went on miss roberts, "is to take some physical exercise every day. you'll never have a better chance to learn to swim, for instance, and it is one of our customs to have light gymnastic movements every morning. in about a week the school of physical education will have an exhibition in the amphitheatre and we must send a squad of girls to represent the club, so the harder you work to become exact and uniform in your exercises the better showing we shall make." when it came to enrolling in the classes both ethels registered as wanting to swim. "i must learn," said ethel blue, "because i've got an uncle in the navy." "and i've got to," laughed ethel brown, "because her uncle is my father." ethel brown and dorothy gave their names for the class in stenciling, but ethel blue crossed to miss roberts's side before she enlisted. "i know i'd like stenciling," she said, "only i made up my mind that i wanted to make baskets and i really want to do that more than to do stenciling." "but you think you'll be lonesome? is that it?" asked the director with her kind eyes on ethel's face. "you see i don't know anybody here but ethel brown and dorothy." "come here a minute, della," called miss roberts to a short, rosy-faced girl whose crisp red hair was flying behind her as she skipped across the room. "della, this is ethel morton," she said. "and ethel, this is della watkins. now you know at least one other member of the girls' club, and it happens that della is going to take basketry, unless she has changed her mind about it since yesterday." "i haven't, miss roberts," declared della; "i'm going to work at baskets until i can make a tray like one i saw at the arts and crafts studios last summer. mamma says it would take a grown person two summers to learn how to do it, but i'm going to try even if it takes me three." "della never gives up anything she once takes hold of," smiled miss roberts. "she's like her dog. he's a bull dog, and i should hate to have him take a fancy to anything i didn't want him to have!" both girls laughed and della slipped her arm around ethel blue's waist and ran with her to the basketry teacher who was recording the names of her fast growing class. for an hour the girls worked at their new tasks and then they did some easy arm and leg exercises and ended the morning with a swift march around the big room. "we must hand in our names for the camping trip," directed dorothy. "what is that?" asked both ethels in chorus. "across the lake is a camp that both the boys' and girls' clubs use in turn. there's a great rush to go so we'd better be on the list early." "how long do we stay?" "just one night and plenty of grown people go, too, so the mothers never object. it's the grandest thing." "i've never slept in a tent," said ethel blue, "and i'd _love_ to do it because my father has to do it so much. i think he'd like to have me." but when they told mrs. morton of the plan she was not quite so eager as the girls would have liked to have her. "how do you go there?" she asked. "in a motor boat, dorothy says." "we shall be on the water a good deal this summer," said mrs. morton after thinking a minute, "and you girls can't learn to swim too quickly. i think i will say that you may go to the camp when you can both swim at least twenty strokes." "if my bathing dress is all ready i'll begin to-morrow, aunt marion." "may we go in every day, mother?" "every suitable day." "i'll bet on ethel blue," pronounced roger solemnly. "she's a landsman's daughter so she'll work harder to learn than ethel brown will. ethel brown will think she'll take to it like a duck because her father is a duck, so to speak." "you just wait," cried ethel brown defiantly. "i believe they'll both be swimming in ten days," declared grandfather emerson. at least they tried hard. they went regularly to the bathing beach, listened attentively to their instructor's directions, practiced carefully in the water, and were caught by the family a dozen times a day taking turns lying on benches and working each other's legs, and making gestures expressive of their desire to imitate the fishes that they could see slipping through the water when they looked down into it from the dock. "they just flip a fin and off they go," sighed ethel blue. "i flip two fins and wag my feet into the bargain and i go down instead of forward." "i'm not scared any longer, anyway. teacher says that's a big gain." "'keep air in your lungs and you needn't be afraid,' she's told me over and over. 'poke your nose out of water and you're all right.' it was kind of goo-ey at first, though, wasn't it, ducking your head and opening your eyes?" "i got used to that pretty quick because i knew the water wasn't up to my neck and all i had to do to be all right was to stand up. the three arm movements i learned quickly; make ready, put your palms right together in front of your chest--then--" "one,--push them straight forward as far as you can--" [illustration: make ready "put your palms right together in front of your chest." she pushed ethel blue's legs forward as close to her body as they would go.] [illustration: number one "push the arms straight forward as far as you can." she pulled the legs as far apart as she could and as far back as possible.] [illustration: number two "turn the palms flat and swing them as far back as the shoulder." she brought the legs together again, the heels touching.] "two,--turn the palms flat and swing them as far back as the shoulder--" "make ready again--bring your palms together in front of your chest again and repeat." "what in the name of sense are you two kids chanting," ejaculated roger, poking his head inside. "go away, roger. we can breathe and we can work our arms and that means we can keep afloat. if only we can get the leg motions right!" "let me give you a pointer," said roger, who was a fine swimmer; "while you're learning try hard not to make any useless movements. they tire you and they don't get you anywhere." "that's just what our teacher says. 'lost motion is bad anywhere, but in swimming it's fatal.'" "she's all right," commended roger. "you just keep up that bench system of yours and you'll come out o.k." so ethel blue stretched herself again face down on the bench and ethel brown put her cousin's heels together and her toes out and pulled her legs straight back. "ready," she cried. then she pushed ethel blue's legs forward as close to her body as they would go, and a muffled groan came from the pupil, head down over the bench. "hold your head up. can't you make your arms go at the same time? now leg number one goes with the arm number one." "i can't do it yet," gurgled ethel blue; "i want to learn these leg movements by themselves first." "here's number one, then," said ethel brown, and she pulled the legs as far apart as she could and as far back as possible, the feet still being horizontal; "and here's number two," and she brought the legs together again, the heels touching. "i forgot to wag my feet when you did that last one," panted ethel blue. "if you wag them it gives you an extra push forward you know." "i know; it really does; i did it accidentally yesterday and i popped right ahead some distance. now let me try," and she took her turn on the bench while ethel blue counted and pulled laboriously, "number one, number two, make ready." "i floated for two minutes to-day." "you did!" there was envy in ethel brown's voice as she resumed her upright position and helped her cousin move the bench back against the wall. "i thought i'd try, so i turned over on my back and put my nose and mouth as high out of water as i could and tried to forget that my forehead was being swashed. then i filled my lungs up full and there i was, just like a cork." "or a barrel," substituted roger, poking his head in again. "grandfather sends you his compliments--or he would if he happened to think of it--and says that when he was a boy they used to ask him 'what does a duck go down for?' do you know the answer?" "grandfather told me that when i was dicky's age--'for divers' reasons'; and he comes up again 'for sun--dry reasons.'" "you're altogether too knowing, you kids. where's helen?" "gone on a tramp with the vacation club. mother and grandfather have gone to the five o'clock reading hour, grandmother is taking her embroidery lesson at the arcade, and mary is down on the lake front. there isn't a soul in the house except dicky and he's taking a nap." "then here's the best time i know to teach you young ladies how to resuscitate a drowned person. if one of you will oblige me by playing drowned--thank you, ma'am." with solemnity roger removed his coat and proceeded to his self-imposed task as ethel blue dropped limply on the floor. "if you happen to have your wits about you still in about the usual amount, all i have to do is to start up your circulation by rubbing you like the mischief and then rolling you up in hot blankets to stave off a chill. but if the few senses that you possess--" "thank you!" "--have left you then i have two things to do instead of one; first, i must start up your breathing once more, and second i must stir up your circulation." "yes, sir," agreed both girls meekly. [illustration: "you keep his nose out of the sand by putting his arm under his own forehead."] "when a person is unconscious his tongue is apt to fall back and stop up his throat. to prevent that you turn your victim over on his face." "ow! my nose!" cried ethel blue as roger suited the action to the word. "you keep his nose out of the sand by putting his own arm under his own forehead, thus making him useful. fixed this way his tongue slips forward and the water in his mouth will run out. sometimes this is enough. if it isn't, then turn the patient on his side--" he rolled ethel blue on edge--"and try to arouse breathing by putting ammonia under his nose or tickling his nose and throat with a feather. somebody ought to be rubbing his face and chest all the time and throwing dashes of cold water on them." "poor lamb!" "if he doesn't begin to breathe promptly under these kind attentions then you must try artificial breathing." "artificial breathing--make-believe breathing! how do you do that?" "don't let people crowd around and cut off the air. turn him on his face again,"--and over went ethel blue--"putting something thick like this rolled up coat under his chest to keep it off the ground." "umph--that's a relief!" grunted ethel blue. "then roll him gently on to his side and then forward on to his face once more. move him once in every four slow counts. every time he goes on to his face give him a vigorous rub between the shoulder blades." "ow, ow," ejaculated ethel blue ungratefully. "it must take a lot of people to do all these things," commented ethel brown. "three if you can get them; one to turn him and rub his back, one to keep his head off the ground as he is rolled over, and the third to dry his feet and try to warm them." "the one who does the rolling is the most important if there don't happen to be many around." "put your strongest in that position. if you don't bring your patient to in five minutes of this, try putting him on his back with a coat or something under his shoulder-blades, and keeping his tongue out of his throat by tying it with a tape or rubber band." [illustration: "one person kneels back of the patient's head and takes hold of his arms between the elbow and the wrist and pulls them back along the ground until the hands touch above his head. this draws the air out of the lungs."] "it's ethel brown's turn now," remonstrated ethel blue, but she was silenced by a rubber band from roger's pocket. [illustration: "when you move them to the side of the body again the air is pressed out of the lungs."] "then one person kneels back of his head and takes hold of his arms between the elbow and the wrist and pulls them back along the ground until the hands touch above his head. this draws the air into the lungs, and when you move them to the sides of the body again the air is pressed out of the lungs just as in natural breathing." "how long do you keep it up?" asked ethel brown interestedly while ethel blue made silent demonstrations of disapproval. "for hours--two at least. many a man has been resuscitated after a longer time. make the movements about fifteen times a minute--that's pretty nearly what nature does--and have relays of helpers. there you have the idea," and roger slipped off ethel blue's gag, and helped her up. "when he really does breathe--my, he must be glad when you do get through with him!"--she panted; "then you begin to work on his circulation, i suppose." "correct, ma'am. rub him from his feet upward so as to drive the blood toward the heart and pack him around with hot water bottles and hot cloths. give him some coffee to drink and put him to bed in a room with plenty of fresh air." "he would be tired out, i should think, after having his arms waved around for hours." "he is," agreed ethel blue. "they generally go right to sleep from exhaustion." "i'm not surprised. personally i think i'd rather be rescued before these vigorous measures had to be applied to me." "the best way to rescue a person who gets over his depth is to grab him from behind." "so he won't grab you." [illustration: "throw yourself on your back. put your arms above your head with the backs of the hands together."] [illustration: "push your legs down and as far apart as they will go. bring the arms in a steady sweep down to the sides."] "exactly. a person who thinks he's drowning loses his head and struggles with his rescuer and perhaps they both drown. the best way is to grasp his arms from behind above the elbows and put your knees in the small of his back. that will throw him into a position where he will float. then hold his arm with your left hand and swim on your back using your right arm and your legs." "but i haven't learned to swim on my back." [illustration: "bring the legs together and forward you'll shoot." end of arm stroke.] "learn how as soon as you can get on pretty well the other way. throw yourself on your back and push your legs down and as far apart as they will go; then bring them together and forward you'll shoot. draw them up to the body again, spread out, clap your heels--there you are. it's just like swimming on your face--" "except that you're upside down." "you can help on by putting your arms above your head with the backs of the hands together and then bringing them in a steady sweep down to the sides. you'd better learn this; it's the thing to do when you have the cramp yourself as well as when the other fellow has it." "now let us practice on you," suggested ethel blue. "no, you don't," replied roger emphatically, and seizing his coat he made a run for liberty, escaping through the front door and slamming it after him. chapter vi ethel brown a heroine dicky was no longer asleep. roger's slamming of the front door had roused him and after drowsily rubbing his eyes he had rolled off his cot and stared out of the window to see in what direction roger was going, for he recognized the footsteps of the brother he admired extravagantly. not seeing him from the front window he turned the latch of the door that opened on the upper porch and looked out toward mayville. again there was no roger and the youngster, still only half awake, wandered about the room hunting for amusement. the house was perfectly quiet, for the ethels, tired after their strenuous afternoon, were lying in the hammocks behind the house, ethel blue working on a new basket and ethel brown drawing a design that she hoped to develop into a stencil. dicky's cot was in helen's room and she had accumulated on her bureau a variety of souvenirs, most of which were pinned to the muslin that framed her dressing glass. dicky climbed on a chair and examined them attentively. most of them seemed to him quite valueless and he wondered that a person as grown up as helen should want to keep them. wandering into his mother's room his eye was attracted by a shining tray on which stood an alcohol lamp. a box of matches lay beside it ready for instant use if hot water should be needed in the night. dicky had not seen the lamp in action many times and never had he had the privilege of lighting it. it seemed an unparalleled opportunity. its present situation was not convenient, however. the shelf it was on was far too high. still, that was easily remedied. dragging forward a chair he mounted upon it, secured his prize, and then laboriously clambered down, breathing heavily from his exertions. helen's bureau was not so high and on it he placed his treasure, kneeling in front of it on the chair which was still where he had left it. careful scrutiny resolved the apparatus into its parts. on top was a cup. he took it off its tripod and laid it on the tray. the tripod underneath held in its embrace a metal container--the thing out of which the pretty blue flame had shot up when mother set a match on top. dicky separated these two parts and pushed one to one side of the bureau and one to the other. where had the matches gone to? there they were, on the floor, and their rescue necessitated a scramble down and up again. they were safety matches and the production of a light from their unresponsive heads was only accomplished by accident after many attempts which strewed the floor with broken bits of wood. at last, oh, joy! a flame flashed up and dick in ecstasy slipped off the cover of the lamp and dropped the match into the inside. it was a rapturous sight. the light leaped tall and slender, and bent as a breath of air from the window touched it. dicky leaned back in his seat and watched it as from an orchestra stall. it was the prettiest thing he had ever personally produced and he was proud of his handiwork. a stronger puff made a fairy dance of flame. another puff came in from the door and crossed it and together they raced through the door into mother's room and disappeared. but they seemed to have started a small tempest of breezes. one after another dashed in from door and window and played tag and jostled the flickering light. it bent this way and that way and crouched back into its holder and then leaped out just in time to meet a slap from a bold wind that drew heavily across the room and in passing, sent the flame, zip! against helen's muslin draperies. in a second they were ablaze, shooting upward toward the ceiling. dicky watched the fire, fascinated with its speed and its faint crackle as if it were chuckling with amusement at its own pranks. but fun never lasts very long; dicky had found that out before. in a minute pieces of muslin, all turned black now, began to float down on him. the mirror was not so pretty as it had been, even with helen's silly souvenirs on it; indeed it had a queer look now as if it was cross at what was going on. in fact, it cracked on one side with a noise like a cat spitting with rage. dicky found himself too warm now that one of the muslin curtains from the window had blown over and caught a piece of the flame on its corner. it was nice to watch, but it was rather hot in this room and he was tired of it anyway. he thought he would go down stairs and see if the ethels were at home. but when he turned toward the entry door it was closed and another prank of the wind had shut the door into mother's room. he could not get out anywhere except on to the roof of the porch and that had no stairs. the room roared in his ears and a bit of the hot black stuff fell on his hand. he rushed on to the porch and screamed a strong, piercing shriek that sent all the blood in her body into ethel brown's heart when it reached the back of the house and her ears. with a leap she left the hammock and her drawing behind her and dashed into the house. "dicky! dicky!" she called frantically as she plunged upstairs. "dicky! dicky!" into mrs. morton's room she ran and then pushed open the door into helen's. a rush of smoke and flame filled her mouth and made her eyes smart. "dicky!" she screamed. "dicky! where are you?" chiming with the crackle of the fire she heard sobbing. "dicky!" she cried again. "ethel's coming. call me again." she dropped to the floor where the smoke seemed lighter and under it she saw a gleam of blue--dicky's rompers--on the porch. creeping on her hands and knees she reached through the door and seized him by the abundant fulness of his garments. he yelled remonstrance as she tried to draw him back into the smoke-filled room. "it's all right," she choked. "shut your eyes and hold your nose. don't be afraid; sister's got you," and with talk and wheedling she pulled him through the porch door and across the floor to the entry door. as she opened it the fresh draught caused a new outburst of flame. she managed to shut it in. she and dicky were safe on the outside. "run down stairs quick," she ordered dicky; "run to james hancock's and tell him the house is on fire." as she spoke a whimpering caught her ear. it came from ethel blue who was crouching on the stairs. "the house is on fire, don't you hear it?" shrieked ethel brown. "what's the matter? can't you help? run and call 'fire.' run, i say." ethel blue, stirred to life, disappeared, and ethel brown seized one of the hand fire extinguishers which are in every chautauqua cottage, and attempted to open the door into helen's room again. a scorching blast drove her back and she gave up the attempt. thrusting her head out of the window she screamed "fire," and at the same time saw dicky running safely toward the hancocks'. even in her terror she noticed that in pulling him out of the burning room she had torn his ample bloomers. a hanging rag streamed from them as he ran. a new thought struck ethel and she flung herself on the banisters and slid to the foot. when she looked from the window she had seen the red gleam of a fire alarm box on a tree almost in front of the house. she rushed to it and beat on the glass with her fists. almost immediately the wild shriek of a siren tore the air. footsteps came running from all sides. she had been glad that it happened that no one was at home, but she was equally glad when she saw mary running from the direction of the pier. margaret hancock called to her that dicky was safe. ethel waved her understanding, and seizing the hand of ethel blue who appeared from somewhere and clung timidly to her skirt she ran back into the house to get the silver from the dining-room. "take this and this and this," she whispered breathlessly, piling dicky's mug and a handful of forks and another of spoons into ethel blue's upheld skirt. "here's the butter dish. it's lucky we left the tea set at home. now then, take those to the hancocks' and i'll go upstairs and see if i can save any of our clothes." "oh, ethel, i ought to go with you," whimpered ethel blue. "run, i tell you," commanded ethel brown who found herself growing cooler every minute. people were coming into the house now and rushing about with chairs in their hands, uncertain where to set them down. a woman from the boarding house next door began to carry out the china and lay it on the grass, and mary tossed pans out of the kitchen window and piled the wash tubs full of groceries for the men to move. from the lake front rose shouting and along the road came one of the chemical engines hauled by the bellboys of the hotel. another rolled down the steep hill from the post office, these men struggling as hard to hold it back as those from the hotel were pulling. down the same hill came the water hose, and yet other chemicals from the business block, the book store, wherever they were kept ready for emergencies. for a few minutes every man was a fire chief and every volunteer shouted commands which he himself was the first to disobey. but order developed in an amazingly short time. the boarding house between the mortons and the hancocks caught fire in spite of the efforts of a bucket brigade which tried to wet down the roof. consternation reigned when a shout drew the attention of the firemen to the flaming of the sun-dried shingles in one corner and almost at the same moment to the flash of a curtain fired by a mass of cinders whirled from the mortons' cottage right through an open window. it was a shout of apprehension, for if this large building went it would be increasingly difficult to save the houses closely crowded beyond. at this critical instant the honk of an automobile horn drew the crowd's attention. the unusual will do that even in times of stress and automobiles are not allowed inside the assembly grounds. "it's mayville! it's the mayville hose," cried some one, and a hoarse cry of satisfaction went through the onlookers. just in the nick of time they came, two hose wagons usually drawn by man power but now attached to the automobiles of two public-spirited citizens who heard the telephone summons and offered their cars which happened to be standing at the sidewalk. the salvage crew was working hard in both houses now, and the hancocks thought it best to remove some of their goods and chattels in case the flames spread beyond the boarding house. the helpers were increased by the audience from the organ recital in the amphitheatre who left the program unfinished at the first note of the siren. an unceasing procession marched from the burning and the threatened cottages to miller park bearing china and glass and furniture. some one threw grandmother emerson's trunk out of the window. it proved not to be locked and its contents spurted all over the walk before the house. ethel brown saw it and stuffed clothes and books back into it and called to two men to take it away. some excited person in the boarding house began to toss bureau drawers down from the top of the front porch. most of them broke when they struck the ground but the people below gathered up the collars and cravats and underwear and ran with them to the park. a young girl who was found wandering about the lower floor carefully carrying half an apple pie which she had rescued from the pantry was led in the same direction. mrs. emerson, rushing across the green from her embroidery lesson on the veranda of the arcade, met margaret hancock tugging dicky along in the direction of the lawn. he was sobbing wildly and his grandmother took him in her arms and sat down on a chair amid the piles of furniture to comfort him. from the direction of the hall of philosophy where they had been awaiting the coming of the reading hour came mrs. morton and mr. emerson, breaking into a run as they approached near enough to see that the fire was in the direction of their cottage. as they rushed across miller park they almost stumbled over ethel blue, curled up miserably on top of the old stump that is said to have supported many eloquent orators in the olden days. "are you hurt, dear child? quick, tell me," demanded mrs. morton, while her father ran on to the scene of action. "i'm not hurt. it's our house. i didn't help ethel," cried the child. "where is ethel? is dicky safe?" the questions seemed to increase the child's agony. "can't you tell me? oh, there's grandmother with dicky. stay with her. and--listen to me--" her aunt seized ethel by the arm and looked her squarely in the eyes. "you're perfectly safe here. try to control yourself. do whatever grandmother says." but the child was too wretched to be of any assistance until mrs. emerson gave her a specified task. "take dicky over to the arcade," she directed, "and keep him there. then i can go and help." ethel blue obeyed miserably, for her very soul was ashamed of her fear. her father a soldier and she this weeping, curled-up bunch of cowardice! she burst into tears again as she crossed the green. dicky, whom mrs. emerson had only partially succeeded in quieting, broke into renewed cries and the two soon became the center of a group of women whose sympathy served to increase the children's demonstrations. "poor lambs, they're frightened to death," said a cool, sweet voice, and a pink-cheeked, white-haired woman made her way through the throng and spoke to ethel blue. "come in where it is quiet," she said. "now drink this water and bathe your eyes and sit down here quietly. show the little boy these pictures," she directed, and ethel, having something definite to do, obeyed her. "i shall be just outside here if you need me. there's nothing to be afraid of." back at the fire the helpers were increased by the arrival of the onlookers at the baseball game. they had come on the run from the lower end of the grounds, the two teams, the umpire, and the scorer bringing up the rear. roger and james and helen were with this crowd, and they dashed frantically into action when they found out what houses were involved. james helped the men who were recharging the chemical engines. helen joined the procession carrying household goods to the park. "where are the children?" roger screamed into his grandfather's ear above the throb of the water from the hose wagons. "there's ethel brown carrying those clothes. your mother's in miller park. i don't know where the others are. i'm going in to find your grandmother," and while roger rushed after ethel to question her the old gentleman dashed into the burning cottage and straight up the stairs to his wife's room. it was only a few minutes before he was brought out again by two of the firemen and stretched on the beach by the lake, with a doctor from the crowd working over him and a nurse who had left her rest hour at the hospital to run to the fire, helping him give first-aid. when he recovered consciousness they summoned help and carried him to miller park and laid him on a mattress while the physician went back to see if his services were required by any other sufferers. fortunately for mr. emerson's peace of mind his wife soon discovered him and told him of the safety of all the other members of the family. it was almost dark when the "all out" signal sounded from the fire-house, and the mortons began to think of where they should spend the night. offers of shelter were plentiful both to them and to the boarders, but mrs. morton and mrs. emerson accepted mrs. hancock's offer. the hancocks owned the cottage on the other side of the one the mortons had been occupying. by good luck, it seemed now, it had not been let for the summer, and by greater good luck it had come out of the fire unscathed, thanks to the direction of the wind. it was furnished and ready for use, and mrs. hancock and margaret and james busied themselves carrying over bedding and towels and table linen. roger and several neighbors bore mr. emerson from the park on his mattress and established him in a comfortable lower bedroom. ethel blue and dicky were found by mrs. morton in the art store and brought home. helen was sent to the indiana cottage to order supper sent in, for mary's department would not be in order until the next day. every member of the family was accounted for when the director of the institution stopped at the porch to see if he could do anything for their comfort. "this young woman is a heroine," he said, patting ethel brown's shoulder. "i watched her all through and she behaved like a grown woman." ethel brown, her skirt torn, her blouse smoke-begrimed and her face dirty, smiled at him shyly, and murmured "thank you." chapter vii dorothy cooks dorothy and her mother had a room in a house near the trolley gate. when they had first come to chautauqua the year before a sign in front of the house had attracted their attention. it read: -------------- | light house | | keeping | | permitted | -------------- light housekeeping was just what mrs. smith wanted to do, so she made inquiries and was able to complete arrangements so satisfactory that she went to the same place when she returned for this second summer. there were several reasons why she did not want to go to a boarding house. in the first place she wanted to have her expenses as small as possible, and in the next she wanted to teach dorothy something about cooking, for she believed that every girl ought to know something of this important branch of home-making and in the wandering life they had led it had not always been possible for them to live otherwise than in a boarding house. "you can take the domestic science work at the girls' club," she had said, "and then we can have our little home here and you can apply your knowledge for our own benefit." so well had this plan worked and so competent had dorothy become in simple cooking that this summer she was specializing in cooking for invalids. "it's mighty lucky i took the invalids' cooking," she exclaimed as her mother came in from the art store at noon the day after the fire, and sat down to the nice little dinner that dorothy had prepared. "it's one of the things that may be valuable to you in many ways and at any time." "it's valuable now. have i told you about my friends at the girls' club, two cousins, both named ethel morton?" "morton? what are their fathers' names? where do they live?" said mrs. smith, speaking more quickly than was usual with her. "i don't know their fathers' names--their fathers aren't here." "oh!" mrs. smith leaned back in her chair as if she were especially weary. "they live in the cottage that was burned yesterday." "they do! i wonder, then, if it wasn't one of them that brought a little boy to the art store while the fire was going on." "did she call him dicky?" "yes, dicky." "did the girl have blue eyes or brown?" "i didn't notice--or, yes, i believe i did--they were blue." "that was ethel blue, then. they call the other one ethel brown to tell them apart. this morning they didn't come to the club because they had so much to do to put their new cottage in order, but ethel brown ran in just for a minute to ask me if i could cook some special things for her grandfather while he was sick. he was hurt yesterday at the fire." "oh, poor man." "it's not very serious, ethel brown says, only he's bruised and he swallowed a lot of smoke and he can't eat what the rest of them do." "haven't they a maid?" "they only have one here, and she has been dicky's nurse until a little while ago, and he got so scared yesterday that he's almost sick to-day and keeps calling for mary all the time. so mrs. morton is cooking for the family and she can't manage to do special things for her father." "do they want you to go there?" "the kitchen is too small. that's why the grandmother or the older sister doesn't do it. they want me to make broths and jellies and things at home here and take them down there." "you must do your very best, dear. it will be a splendid chance for you to take such a responsibility." "the doctor says mr. emerson is to have chicken broth and toast at three o'clock, so i went to their house after the club and got a tray and a small bowl and some plates, and then stopped at the meat market on the way home, so the broth is started now." she waved her hand toward the corner of the room where the low-turned flame of a gas plate was causing a soft simmering in a large saucepan. "you put the chicken in cold water, didn't you, to draw the goodness out?" "yes, indeed. i cut up the chicken and cracked the bones so that all that inside goodness wouldn't be wasted. a quart and a pint of water covered it well and it's going to stay on until the meat all falls to pieces. that will be about three hours from the time i put it on." "are you going to put rice in it?" "i'm going to take down the rice in a separate little bowl this time because i don't know whether mr. emerson likes rice." "be sure you don't over-cook it. every grain should be separate." "i learned the very simplest way to cook rice. wash it and put it into boiling salted water, a quart of water to a cupful of rice. putting the rice in will stop the boiling, so when it boils up again you give it just one stir to keep the kernels from sticking to the bottom of the saucepan. you mustn't stir it any more or you'll break the grains. it will be done in about twenty minutes. then you pour it lightly into a colander and turn it lightly from the colander into your serving dish, and there you are, every grain separate." "if you save the rice water it serves as a vegetable stock for a soup." "our teacher told us a story about the value of rice water. it was in a famine time in india and some of the natives went to the english and said that if they could have the water the camp rice was cooked in they wouldn't ask for anything else." "they knew how strong and good it is. mr. emerson won't want more than a cupful of chicken broth this afternoon--what are you going to do with the rest of it?" "one gill of it will make chicken custard with the beaten yolks of two eggs and a pinch of salt. you cook it in a double boiler until it is thick." "that ought to taste good and be nourishing, too." "i shall put on another gill of the broth, with a teaspoonful of irish moss if i can find the kind that is prepared in powder form. after that has boiled about fifteen minutes i shall strain it through a piece of cheesecloth into a cup and when it has stiffened and i'm ready to serve it, i'll turn it out on a pretty little plate and lay a sprig of parsley on top." "that will just about use up the broth from one chicken." "i can give mr. emerson a variety by making mutton broth. a quart of cold water to a pound of meat is the right proportion, and then you make it just like chicken broth." "you mustn't forget to trim off all the fat you can before you put it in, and to skim off any bubbles of fat that rise to the top." "i shan't make any beef tea unless they ask for it especially, because the doctors say nowadays that there isn't much nourishment in it, it's just stimulating. i shall give my patient cereals and porridges made exactly according to the directions that are on the boxes." "a thoroughly baked white potato served piping hot is delicious. break it open at the last minute and put into it a dab of butter and a teaspoon of cream and a wee bit of salt, and a dash of pepper if your patient can stand pepper. a baked potato goes well with a broiled breast of chicken." "if this 'case' of mine lasts long enough so that i have to make more chicken broth i shall cut off the breast before i cut up the chicken for the broth." "broil it until it is quite brown, and after you have put it on a warm plate ready to serve, add a tiny dab of butter and a little salt. do the same with a lamb chop, and be sure that every bit of meat except the choice mouthful or two is cut away before you cook it." "i shan't let the butcher trim it, though. those bits that come off help out in a soup." "tapioca jelly is something you must try for one of your invalid's desserts." "the doctor said he must have fruits mostly, but i'd like to try the tapioca once." "take half a cupful of tapioca and two cupfuls of water, the juice and a little of the grated rind of half a lemon, and a teaspoonful of sugar. soak the tapioca in the water for four hours. stir in the sugar just as you put it all in the double boiler. cook it for about three-quarters of an hour. you should stir it often and it ought to be perfectly clear when it is done. stir in the lemon at the last minute and then pour it into cups or molds." "that sounds good to me. i think i'll try it for our own dessert some day." "when you make toast always be careful to cut your slices of bread all of the same thickness and to cut off the crusts. then warm the slices first and afterwards brown them delicately. when you make milk toast butter the slices and sprinkle on a few grains of salt and then pour over them a cupful of boiling milk thickened with half a teaspoonful of flour. do it carefully. it is care about little things that makes a dish palatable for an invalid, you must remember." "della watkins gave me some flowers to-day, so i shall have one to put on the waiter." "i want to tell you, dear, why i am especially glad that you are having this opportunity to show that you can put your knowledge into actual practice." "i did last winter when i made the baskets for christmas." "you did wonderfully. you've noticed that i am always advising you to learn things that will be valuable to you. i mean valuable in a money way as well as in giving pleasure to yourself and others." dorothy curled up in her mother's lap and made a soft hum of assent. "the reason i've done that is because i've seen our little stock of money growing smaller and smaller all the time. last winter i didn't make quite enough at the art store to support us both, and i had to draw on our principal in spite of your doing so splendidly with your baskets." "but this summer you're all right, aren't you?" "this summer i am meeting our expenses, but i'm not laying by a penny, and when the season ends here i don't know where we shall go or what i can do. so you see that every cent you are able to make is a great help." "if i prepare these things all right for ethel's grandfather i won't be scared if i have a chance to do it again." "certainly you won't. every success gives confidence." "we might start a kitchen somewhere in an especially unhealthy neighborhood and i could make invalids' stuff all the time at a hundred dollars a tray." mrs. smith laughed. "that's not such a bad idea," she agreed. "at any rate we must always have faith that work of some sort will be given to us. it hasn't failed as yet, even when things looked pretty bad." "there was a postcard in the picture booth in the pergola the other day that said, have faith and hustle." "that's good advice. _prudence_ without worry and _energy_ without scatteration of mind and _faith_ woven into it all; that's my gospel." after her mother had gone, dorothy took out a pad and pencil and made a list of broths and dishes which she already knew how to make and another that she meant to ask her cooking teacher about. she knew that she had only to tell her teacher that she was putting her information into actual practice and she would have all the help that she needed. she wanted to rely on herself as much as she could, however. if there was just a shade of doubt in the back of her mind about the success of her cooking it was gone when she went in to mr. emerson's room to take away the tray after he had finished his first meal of her preparation. "perfectly delicious, child," he whispered hoarsely, for his throat was still sore. "i shall want to be a king and engage you for my personal cook even after i get well. i think i can tackle another of those excellent combinations of yours in about four hours." dorothy was delighted and for the whole of the busiest week of her life she worked hard not only to have her cooking delicious, but to have the trays attractive. she never used the same cup and saucer twice in succession; at the shop in the business block she found funny little jelly molds for a few cents apiece, and mr. emerson never failed to notice that to-day he had a miniature jelly rabbit and the next day a tiny jelly watermelon. mrs. hancock let her forage in her china closet and she found there bowls of many patterns, the odds and ends of the home china sent here for summer use. "they're exactly what i want," dorothy cried and went off with them in triumph. there was always a bit of parsley or watercress or a tender leaf of lettuce with the first part of the meal and a posy with the dessert. "i want especially to thank you for one care you've taken," said mr. emerson on the day when he regretfully dismissed his cook with a roll of crisp bills in her capable hand. "i want to thank you for always having the hot things _really hot_ and the cold things _really cold_." chapter viii the spelling match the evening of the annual spelling match was one of those when the whole emerson-morton family down to dicky went to the amphitheatre. usually mary or one of the older members of the family stayed at home with the children. on this occasion, however, mr. emerson had announced that he intended to take part in the match so everybody was eager to be present to encourage him. the amphitheatre was fuller than they had seen it yet when they reached it and made their way as far forward as possible so that they might hear all that was said. "evidently this is popular," remarked mr. emerson to his daughter as he took his seat next to her, placing himself at the end of the bench so that he could get into the aisle quickly when the time came. there seemed to be an unusual spirit of gayety in the audience, they thought, for many people were being playfully urged by their friends to go up on to the stage, and others who had made up their minds to go were being coached by their companions who were giving out words from the c.l.s.c. books for them to practice on. a short flight of steps had been arranged at the front of the platform on which two rows of chairs were placed ready for the contestants. at the back a large table was loaded with heavy dictionaries for the use of the judges who were to decide any questions of doubt. a burst of applause greeted the director of the institution as he walked forward and introduced the announcer of words, a college president. after giving a short history of the annual spelling match, which dated back to the early days of the assembly, he announced that the contest of the evening was to be between representatives of new york, pennsylvania, and ohio on one side and the rest of the world on the other. amid the laughter that followed the announcement helen whispered to margaret who sat next to her-- "why new york, pennsylvania, and ohio?" "they send more people here than any of the other states. you ought to see them stand up on old first night! there are hordes of them." the director went on to state the rules that were to govern the contestants. they must be over fifteen years old. they might ask to have a word pronounced again but they could have only one chance to spell it. a spelling was to be accepted as correct if it were confirmed by any of the dictionaries on the stage--worcester, webster, the standard, and the century. the judges were professors from the faculty of the summer schools and their decision was to be final. no one who had taken a prize in previous years might enter. lastly, a ten dollar gold piece was to add an extra inducement to enter the contest and to give an extra pleasure to the winner. "now," he concluded, "will the gladiators come forward, stating as they step on the platform on which side they are to fight." there was a moment's pause until a courageous few advanced to the front. the director announced their partisanship. they were all, as it happened, from new york, pennsylvania, or ohio and they sat down on the chairs at the right of the audience. the next detachment added two to their number and half a dozen to the other side. mr. emerson was in the next group to go forward. "there's my mother behind your grandfather," whispered dorothy, who was between the two ethels. they saw a slender woman with a mass of snow-white hair piled above a fresh face. "it's the lady who took care of dicky and me the day of the fire," cried ethel blue. bursts of applause greeted people who were well known. the editor of a newspaper in a near-by town was one of these favored ones and a teacher of stenography was another. between the detachments the director cheered on the laggards with humorous remarks, and after each joke there was sure to be heard from one part of the amphitheatre or another a loudly whispered "you go" followed by a shrinking, "oh, no, you go!" at last all the tri-state chairs were filled while there remained two vacant places on the side of the rest of the world. "it looks as if the rest of the world was afraid to stand up against new york, pennsylvania, and ohio," exclaimed the director. "this can't be true!" there was another pause and then two women rose at the same time. they were received by a hearty round of clapping. "do you see who it is? roger, roger, do you see?" cried helen, leaning across margaret to touch her brother's knee. "good for her. isn't she the spunky mother!" answered roger, while at the same moment margaret and james were exclaiming, "why, there's our mother, too, going up with yours!" so the two brave little ladies took the last two seats for the defence of the rest of the world and the announcer began to give out the words to the waiting fifty. it took only a minute to bring trouble, for a tri-state woman went down on "typographical." others followed in rapid succession, every failure being as heartily applauded as every success. by the time that a girl misspelled "ebullitions" only seven representatives of the rest of the world were left. a kentuckian who had overpowered some giants was beaten by "centripetal"; grandfather emerson's omission of a "p" in "handicapped," mrs. morton's desperate but unavailing struggle with the "l's" in "unparalleled," and mrs. hancock's insertion of an undesirable "e" in "judgment" reduced the ranks of both sides to a brave pair of tri-states faced by a solitary cosmopolitan. "it's mother, it's mother," whispered dorothy, clapping frantically, while the two ethels told everybody near them, "it's dorothy's mother. isn't she splendid!" "correlation" and "exhilaration" were the bombs whose explosion swept away the last of the tri-state forces, and dorothy's mother stood alone, the winner of the prize. "that was dorothy's mother who took the prize," repeated ethel brown in high spirits to her grandmother as she took her arm to pilot her home. "dorothy's mother! why, that is the mrs. smith who is my embroidery teacher at the art store." "it is! how lovely for you to know dorothy's mother. ethel, granny knows dorothy's mother. she teaches her embroidery," called ethel to her cousin. "don't you know dorothy said her mother was teaching embroidery in an art store in illinois last winter? oh, i almost want to learn from her myself." "stick to your stenciling, child," said mrs. morton. "does dorothy embroider?" "we don't know; we'll ask her," cried the two girls in chorus, and ethel brown added; "she makes ten kinds of baskets, and this year she's doing stenciling in my class, and her mother says that if she does it as well as she did the baskets, she can study next year at the arts and crafts shops with the grown people." "she must have inherited her mother's clever fingers," commented mrs. morton. roger and helen, who had been walking with james and margaret, stopped at their house and sat on the porch to round out this privileged evening until ten o'clock. the moonlight shone brilliantly on the lake and at its upper end, two or three miles away, the lights of mayville twinkled through the trees. boats and canoes were drawing in toward the shore, for chautauqua custom demands that every one be at home by ten o'clock, and that quiet reign so that the people who have studying to do or are obliged to rise early for their classes and so must go to bed early may not be disturbed. some of the boats landed at the dock just below the hancocks' house and their occupants stepped on the wet planks with happy shrieks of laughter; others went on to the lower dock in front of the hotel. "it always says in books that moonlight is romantic," said roger. "i don't see where the romance comes in; it's just easier to see your way round." there were cries of protest from the two girls. "girls always howl when you say a thing like that," went on roger, "as if a fellow was a hard-hearted fool, but i'd like to have you tell me where there is any romance in real life--any outside of books, i mean." he stared challengingly at james as if he expected him either to support him or to contradict him, but james was a slow thinker and said nothing. helen rushed in breathlessly. "it's just the way you put things together. if you want to look at it that way there are things happening all the time that would look romantic in a story." "what, i'd like to know," demanded roger. "tell just one thing." "why--why--" helen hesitated, trying to put her feelings into words; "why, take to-night when grandmother found out that it was dorothy's mother she had been taking embroidery lessons from. somehow that seems to me romantic--to know one person and to know another person and then to find that they are relations." helen ended rather lamely, for roger was shouting with laughter. "that sounds mighty commonplace to me," he roared. "it would sound all right if a writer worked it up in a book." james suddenly came to helen's rescue to her great gratification. "we've got a romance in our family," he went on. "we have!" cried margaret. "what is it?" "perhaps it wouldn't seem like one to roger," went on james, "but it always seemed to me it was romantic because it was different from the way things happen every day, and there was a chance for a surprise in it." "i know what you mean," cried margaret. "great-uncle george." "yes," acknowledged james. "he was our father's uncle and he was a young man at the time of the civil war. fathers were sterner then than they are now and uncle george's father--dad's grandfather--insisted that he should go into a certain kind of business that he didn't like. they had some fierce quarrels and uncle george ran off to the war and they never heard from him again." "didn't he ever write home?" "they never got any letter from him," said margaret. "his mother always blamed herself that she didn't write to him over and over again, even if she didn't get any answer, so that he would know that somebody kept on loving him and looking for him to come back. but great-grandfather forbade her to, and i guess she must have been meeker than women are now, just as great-grandfather was stricter." "father says," went on james, "that all through his boyhood he used to hope that his uncle would turn up, perhaps awfully rich or perhaps with adventures to tell about. now i call that romantic, don't you, old man?" ended james defiantly. "seems to me it would have been if he had turned up, but he didn't," retorted roger, determined not to yield. "we have a disappearance story in our family, too," said helen. "i'd forgotten it. it's nearer than yours; it's our own aunt. don't you remember, roger? mother told us about it, once." "that's so; so we have. now that _is_ romantic," asserted roger. "let's hear it and see if it beats ours," said james. "it was our aunt louise, father's and uncle richard's sister. she was older than they. she fell in love with a man her father didn't like." "ho," grunted james; "that's why you think your story is romantic--because there's some love in it." "it does make it more romantic, of course," declared margaret, going over to the other side. "he was a musician and grandfather morton didn't think music was a man's business. people used to be funny about things like that you know." "that was because musicians and painters used to go round with long hair looking like jays." so james summed up the causes of the previous generation's dislike of the masters of the arts. "i don't know whether aunt louise's musician was long on hair or not, but he was short on cash all right," roger took up the story. "grandfather said he couldn't support a wife and aunt louise said she'd take the chance, and so they ran away." "she had more sand than sense, seems to me--if you'll excuse my commenting on your aunt," said james. "she had plenty of sand. she must have found out pretty soon that grandfather was right, but she wouldn't ask for help or come home again, and after a while they didn't hear from her any more and now nobody knows where she is." "i'm like your father, james," said helen; "i always feel that some time she may turn up and tell us her adventures." "she must have been very brave and very loyal," murmured margaret. "what did she look like? was she pretty?" "i haven't any idea. mother never saw her. she left home before mother and father were married." "father spoke to me about her once," said roger gravely. "did he really?" cried helen. "mother told me he hadn't mentioned her for years, it hurt him so to lose her." "he told me she was the finest girl he ever knew except mother, and he thought grandfather made a mistake in not helping the fellow along and then letting aunt louise marry him. you see he sort of drove her into it by opposing her." "wouldn't it be great if both our relatives should turn up," cried helen. "i suppose your uncle is too old now, even if he's alive, but our aunt really may." "then roger'll have to admit that there's romance in real life." "there are the chimes; we must go," said roger as "annie laurie" pealed out on the fresh evening air, and the morton brother and sister said "good-night" to the hancock sister and brother and went down the path to their own cottage where roger left helen and then went on up the hill to his room in the hall of pedagogy. chapter ix grandfather arranges his time the mortons breakfasted rather later than most people at chautauqua. this was on roger's account. he had to put his building into perfect order before the classes began to assemble at eight in the morning. he always did some of his sweeping the afternoon before after the students had left the hall, but there was plenty of work for him in the early hour after he had reluctantly rolled off his cot. he had grown up with the navy and army ideals of extreme neatness, and experience was teaching him now that if he expected to have the rooms as tidy as his father would want to see them he must go to bed early and rise not long after the sun poked his rosy head over the edge of the lake. "nix on sitting up to hear the chimes," he confided to the family at breakfast the morning after the spelling match. "last night's the first time i've heard them in a week. that room is worth a lot to me just for the feeling it's giving me that i'm earning it, and i'm going to pay good honest work for it if it busts me." "'bust' means, i suppose, if you have to go to bed early and work till almost eight in the morning to do it," translated his mother. "you're quite right, my dear; that's what your father would want you to do. and none of us here have eight o'clock classes so we can just as well as not have our breakfast at eight and have the pleasure of seeing you here opposite me." ever since he was a little boy roger had sat in his father's seat when lieutenant morton was on duty. he felt that it was a privilege and that because of it he represented the head of the family and must shoulder some of his father's responsibilities. it made his behavior toward his mother and sisters and ethel blue and dicky far more grown-up than that of most boys of his age, and his mother depended on him as few mothers except those in similar positions depend on sons of roger's age. every time that helen heard roger mention his room she was stirred again with the desire that had filled her on the first day when jo sampson had offered it to him. she told herself over and over that she was doing as much as roger, for since they only had one maid and mary was busy all the time with the work necessary for so large a family, helen waited on the table. she earned her meals by doing that just as much as if she were doing it in one of the boarding houses. yet it did not seem to her just the same. she did not really want to wait on table in one of the boarding houses; she would have been frightened to death to do it, she thought, although she had been long enough at chautauqua to see many nice young teachers and college girls in the boarding cottages and at the hotel and in the restaurant, and if they were not frightened, why should she be? perhaps they were and didn't show it. perhaps it was because it would take courage for her to attempt it that she wanted to so much. whatever the reason, she could not seem to rid her mind of the idea that it would be delightful to earn money or its equivalent. this morning roger's talk about his room roused her again. "mother," she said, "margaret hancock is going to take sewing from the teacher in the hall of pedagogy. do you think i might, too?" "what kind of sewing, dear? embroidery?" "no, mother dear; it's the purely domestic variety; plain sewing and buttonholes and shirtwaists and middy blouses and how to hang a skirt, if i get so far along. don't you think i'd be a more useful girl if i knew how to do some of those things?" "you're a useful daughter now, dear; but i think it would be a splendid thing for you to learn just the kind of sewing that we need in the family." "that every family needs," corrected helen. the mother looked closely at her daughter. "yes," she assented. helen had a plan in her mind and she had not meant to tell her mother until the sewing class had proved a success and she had learned to do all the things she had mentioned, but she was straightforward and she could not resist sharing her secret with mrs. morton. "i meet so many girls here who are doing something to pay for their holiday, just the way those porters who brought our things down the first morning are, that i'm just crazy to do something, too," she explained breathlessly. "it seemed to me that if i learned how to do the kind of sewing that everybody must have i could get some work to do here and make some money." mrs. morton and mrs. emerson looked at each other in amazement. neither spoke for a moment. "why do you need more money, dear? you have your allowance." "i have plenty of money for all i need; what i want is to feel independent. i don't like to feel that i am a drag on father and not a help." "but father is glad to pay for your living, dear. just the fact that he has a big, loving daughter is enough return for him." "i know, father's a darling. i know he's glad to pay for roger's education, too, but when roger earns his room you think it's perfectly fine and when i want to do the same thing you seem to think i'm wanting to do something horrid." helen was nearly in tears and the fact that her mother made no reply did not calm her. mr. emerson shook his head slowly. "it's in the air, my dear," he said to mrs. morton. "you're partly right, helen," said mrs. morton at last. "since roger is a boy we expect him to earn his living as soon as he is prepared to do so. we should not want him to do it now because his duty now is to secure his education and to make himself strong and well so that he'll be a vigorous and intelligent man. we had not thought of your earning your living outside your home, but if you want to prepare yourself to do so you may. i'm sure your father would have no objection if you selected a definite occupation of which he and i approved and fitted yourself to fill it well. but he would object to your taxing your strength by working now just as he would object to roger's doing the same thing." "but you're pleased when roger earns his room and you seem to think it funny when i want to," repeated helen. "perhaps you are right, dear. it must be because roger is a boy and so we like to see him turning naturally to being useful and busy just as he must be all the time in a few years." "but why can't i?" "i have no objection to your learning how to sew this summer, certainly, if that will satisfy you; and if you'll learn how to make the ethels' middy blouses and dicky's little suits and rompers, i'll be glad to pay you for them just as i pay a sewing woman at home for making them." "oh, mother," almost sobbed helen, "that will be good; only," she nodded after a pause, "it won't help father a bit. the money ought to come out of somebody else's pocket, not his." "that's true," admitted mrs. morton, "but i should have to pay some one to do the work, so why not you? unless, of course, you wanted to help father by contributing your work." "that sounds as if i didn't want to help father or i'd do it for nothing," exclaimed helen. "i do really want to help father, but i want to do it by relieving father of spending money for me. i'd like to pay my board!" "this generation doesn't seem to understand family co-operation," said grandfather emerson. "i do want to co-operate," insisted helen. "i just said i'd like to pay my board and co-operate by contributing to the family expenses in that way. what i don't want is to have any work i do taken for granted just as if we were still pioneers in the wilderness when every member of the family had to give the labor of his hands. i'm willing to work--i'm trying to induce mother to let me work--but i want a definite value put on it just as there will be a definite value put on roger's work when he gets started. i'd like to make the middy blouses for the ethels and have mother pay me what they were worth, and then pay mother for my board. then i should feel that i was really earning my living. that's the way roger will do when he's earning a salary. why shouldn't i do it?" helen stopped, breathless. she was too young to realize it, but it was the cry of her time that she was trying to express--the cry of the woman to be considered as separate as the man, to be an individual. "i understand," said mrs. morton soothingly; "but suppose you begin in the way i suggest; and meanwhile we'll put our minds on what you will do after you leave college. there are a good many years yet before you need actually to go out into the world." "then i may go this morning and arrange for my lessons?" "certainly you may." "and--and i'm sorry i've done all the talking this morning," apologized helen. "i'm afraid it hasn't been a very pleasant breakfast." "a very interesting one," said mr. emerson. "it shows that every generation has to be handled differently from the last one," he nodded to his daughter. "nobody has ever been up on the hill to see my room--if helen will excuse my mentioning it," said roger. helen flushed. "don't make fun of me, roger. you do what you want to and it's all right and i want to do the same thing and it's all wrong," burst out helen once more. "there, dear, we don't want to hear it all again. go and arrange for your lessons and as soon as you can make good blouses i'd like to have a dozen for the ethels." "you're a duck, mother," and helen ran out of the room, smiling, though with a feeling that she did not quite understand it all. and well she might be puzzled, for what she was struggling with has puzzled wiser heads than hers, and is one of the new problems that has been brought us by the twentieth century. "i'll walk up with you to see your room, roger," offered mr. emerson, "if you're sure i can go without blundering into some class." "i'll steer you o.k. come on, sir," cried roger and he and his grandfather left the cottage as mrs. emerson started for her nine o'clock class in the hall of christ to be followed by the ten o'clock devotional hour and the eleven o'clock lecture in the amphitheatre. there she would be joined by mrs. morton, who went every morning at nine to the woman's club in the hall of philosophy, and then to a ten o'clock french class. up to the time of the fire the ethels had escorted dicky to the kindergarten and had then run on to the girls' club. roger and his grandfather strolled northward along the shore of the lake talking about helen. "i understand exactly how she feels," said roger, "because i should feel exactly the same way if you people expected me to do what you expect her to do." "but she's a girl," remonstrated mr. emerson. "i guess girls nowadays are different from girls in your day, grandfather," said roger wisely. "we were talking last night at the hancocks' about fathers one or two generations ago--how savage they were compared with fathers to-day." "savage!" repeated mr. emerson under his breath. "wasn't your father more severe to his children than you ever were to yours?" persisted roger. "perhaps he was," admitted the old gentleman slowly. "and i'm sure father is much easier on me than his father was on him although father expects a sort of service discipline from me," continued roger. "may be so," agreed his hearer. "just in the same way i believe girls are changing. they used to be content to think what the rest of the family thought on most things. if they ever 'bucked' at all it was when they fell in love with some man the stern parent didn't approve of, and then they were doing something frightful if they insisted on having their own way, like aunt louise morton." "surely you don't think she did right to run off!" "i'm sorry she did it, but i believe if she had been reasoned with instead of ordered, and if grandfather morton had tried to see the best in the man she was in love with instead of booting him out as if he were a burglar, it might have come out differently." "perhaps it might. personally i believe in every one's exercising his own judgment." "and i tell you the girls nowadays have plenty of it," asserted roger. "i know lots of girls; there are twenty of them in my class at the high school and i don't see but they're just as sensible as we boys and most of them are a heap smarter in their lessons." "helen seems to think as you do, at any rate." "i'm going to stand up for helen," declared roger. "i'll be out of college a couple of years before she is and if she wants to study anything special or do anything special i'll surely help her to it." "your father's not likely to object to anything that she will want to do." "probably not, only," returned roger hesitating, "perhaps dear old dad will need a little education himself after being in mexico and suchlike foreign parts for so long." the path which they were following ran along the top of a bank that rose abruptly from the water. on the other side of the roadway were pretty cottages rather larger than most of those at chautauqua. "in this house we're passing," said roger, "there lives the grandest sight in chautauqua. i see him almost every time i go by. look, there he is now." _he_ was a bull dog of enormous head and fiercest visage, his nose pushed back, his teeth protruding, his legs bowed. belying his war-like aspect he was harnessed to a child's express wagon which was loaded with milk cans and baskets. "isn't that a great old outfit!" exclaimed roger. "he goes to market every morning as solemn as a judge. his name is cupid." "ha, ha! cupid!" laughed mr. emerson. the dog's master held a leash fastened to his harness and the strong creature tugged him along so fast that he almost had to run to keep up. "you see 'everybody works' at chautauqua, even the dogs." "and i must say they all seem to like it, even cupid," added mr. emerson. turning away from the lake they walked up the hill to a grove behind which rose the walls of a hall and of several school buildings. "over to the right is the hall of pedagogy where your affectionate grandson wields the broom and smears the dustrag, and the building beyond is the college. they aren't especially handsome either inside or out but they are as busy as beehives. listen to that hum? i tell you they just naturally hustle for culture up at this end of the grounds!" "what's this we're coming out on?" "the arts and crafts studios. not bad, are they? sort of california mission effect with those low white pillars. this place beats the others in the busy bee business. they hum in the mornings but the arts and crafts people are at it all day long. come along and look in; they keep the windows open on purpose." nothing loath, mr. emerson went up the ascending path and on to the brick walk behind the pillars. first they peered into a room devoted to the making of lace, but neither of them felt drawn to this essentially feminine occupation. then they passed drawing and painting studios where teachers of drawing and painting were taught how to teach better. in a hall in the centre they found a blackboard drawing that was as well done as many a painting, but mr. emerson's interest began really to grow when they came to the next departments. here they found looms, some of them old-fashioned and some of them new, but all worked by hand and foot power. several young women and two men were threading them or weaving new patterns. it looked difficult yet fascinating. beyond there was a detachment learning how to put rush bottoms into chairs, twisting wet cat-tail leaves and wrapping them about the edges of frames. "look, they're just like the chairs in your dining-room," whispered roger. "i've half a mind to learn how to do it so that i can mend them for grandmother." a near-by squad was making baskets, using a variety of materials. in another room the leather workers were stretching and cutting and wetting and dyeing and tooling bits of leather which were to be converted into purses and card cases and mats, and at another table the bookbinders were exercising the most scrupulous care in the use of their tools upon the delicate designs which they had transferred to their valuable material. around the bend in the wall were the noisy crafts, put by themselves so that they might not interfere with the comfort of the quieter toilers. here the metal workers pounded their sheets of brass and copper, building up handsome patterns upon future trays and waste baskets and lanterns. here, too, the jewelry makers ran their little furnaces and thumped and welded until silver cups and chains grew under their fingers and settings of unique design held semi-precious stones of alluring colors. every student in the whole place seemed alive with eagerness to do his work well and swiftly; they bent over it, smiling, the teachers were calm and helpful; gayety and happiness were in the air. "i'd really like to spend my mornings up here," murmured mr. emerson, "if i only knew what i could do." "we didn't see the wood-carving room; perhaps you'd like that." they turned into a door they had passed. a man of grandfather's age was drawing his design on a board which was destined to become a book rack. another man was chipping out his background, making the flowers of his pattern stand forth in bold relief. a young woman had a fireboard nearly finished. "i believe i will come up here," exclaimed mr. emerson. and so it happened that grandfather's mornings were taken up as much as those of the rest of the family, and it was not long before he was so interested in his work and so eager to get on with his appointed tasks that he spent not only the mornings but almost all day drawing and carving and oiling in the midst of sweet-smelling shavings. on the way back they stopped for a minute to see roger's cell in the hall of pedagogy, and the boy showed his grandfather with pride his neat array of brooms and rags. as they passed through higgins grove and out on to the green in front of the post office a great clattering attracted their attention. men ran, boys shouted, and over and above all rose a fierce and persistent barking. "it's cupid! as sure as you're born, it's cupid!" cried roger. sure enough it was cupid. he had been trotting gently down one of the side streets, his wagon laden with full milk cans and with sundry bundles. a dog passing across the square at the end of the street attracted his attention, and he started off at full gallop. the cans rolled out of the cart and spurted their milky contents on the ground. a bag of eggs smashed disastrously as it struck the pavement. tins--of corned beef, lentils, sardines--bounced on the floor of the wagon until they jounced over the side into the road. on, on ran cupid, his harness holding strongly and the front wheels banging his hind paws at every jump. the uproar that he created drew the attention of the dog which had caused all the commotion by his mere presence on the plaza. casting a startled glance at cupid, he clapped his tail between his legs and fled--fled with great bounds, his ears flapping in a breeze of his own creation. unencumbered as he was he had the advantage of cupid, who was unable to rid himself of the equipment that marked him as man's slave. seeing his quarry disappear in the distance the bull dog came to a standstill just as roger seized the strap that dangled from his harness. "yours, i believe," he laughed as he handed the leash to the young man who came running up. "mine. thank you. my name is watkins and i'd be glad to know you better. i've noticed you passing the house every day." "thank you. my name is morton," and the two young fellows shook hands over cupid's head, while he sat down between the shafts and let slip a careless tongue from out his heated mouth. chapter x a chautauqua sunday on the last sunday in july the sun rose on a chautauqua made serious by the portentous event of war actually declared in europe. the mortons felt a vital interest in it. with their father and uncle in the navy and army war in theory was a thing not new to them. both lieutenant and captain morton had served in the spanish-american war, but roger was a baby at the time and the other children had been born later. the nearest approach to active service that the children had actually known about was the present situation in vera cruz. they had been thrilled when lieutenant morton had been ordered there in the spring and captain morton had followed later with general funston's army of occupation. but the united states troops were not in mexico to make war but to prevent it, while the impending trouble in europe was so filled with possibilities that it promised already to be the greatest struggle that the world ever had known. the horror of it was increased by the fact that for a week all chautauqua had been giving itself over to the peaceful joys of music. for six days victor herbert's orchestra had provided a feast of melody and harmony and rhythm and everybody on the grounds had participated, either as auditor or as performer, in some of the vocal numbers. mrs. morton and mr. emerson and roger had sung in the choir and dorothy had raised her sweet pipe in the children's choir. and at the end of the week had come this crashing discord of war. yet the routine of a chautauqua sunday went on unbroken. the elders went at nine o'clock to the bible study class in the amphitheatre, and at half past nine the younger members of the family dispersed to the various places where the divisions of the graded sunday school met. roger and helen found the high school boys and girls in the hall of christ; the ethels met the children of the seventh grade at the model of palestine by the lakeside, and dicky went to the kindergarten just as he had done on weekday mornings, though what he did after he entered the building was far different. at ten o'clock sunday school was over and the older children and the grown-ups scattered to the devotional services at the various denominational houses which helen and the ethels had noticed on their first day's walk. at eleven all chautauqua gathered in the amphitheatre in a union service that recognized no one creed but laid stress on the beauty and harmony common to all beliefs. the coming week was that of the special celebration of the founding of chautauqua institution forty years before, so it was fitting that bishop vincent should preach from the platform which owed its existence to the god-given idea of service which he had brought into being. the ideal church and the ideal christian were his themes. "personality is always enlarged and ennobled by having to do with and becoming responsible for some great institution," he said and even the children understood that the church suggests a pattern for good thoughts and for service to others which uplifts the people who try to shape their own lives by it. "isn't he a beautiful old man," whispered ethel blue to ethel brown. "do you suppose we'll ever have a chance to speak to him?" it seemed to ethel brown almost an impossibility; yet it happened that very afternoon. at three o'clock the junior congregation met in the amphitheatre and the ethels went, although they had sat through the morning service. it was a glad sight--several hundred girls and boys smiling happily and singing joyously and often grown people sat in the upper seats of the auditorium where they would not intrude upon the gathering below but would be able to see and hear the fresh young faces and voices. it happened that bishop vincent, passing by with miss kimball, stopped for a few minutes at the head of one of the aisles to listen to the last hymn, and he was still there when the young people poured out upon the upper walk. miss kimball recognized the ethels and called them to her. "here are two little acquaintances of mine, bishop," she said; "i know they want to speak to you and shake hands with you." ethel brown looked frankly into the benign face above her and made a prompt answer to the question, "is this your first summer at chautauqua?" but ethel blue was overcome with the embarrassment that seemed to be growing upon her lately, and hardly raised her eyes. yet as miss kimball turned to go on and ethel brown walked away beside her ethel blue found herself saying desperately in a small voice, "bishop, would you tell me something? i must--i want to know something." "come and sit down here and tell me what it is," answered the kind and genial tones that could make the huge amphitheatre ring or could comfort a child with equal effect. drawing her to a seat a little way down the sloping aisle the bishop and the young girl sat down. "now what is it?" he asked softly. again shyness seized ethel and made her speechless. she looked desperately after ethel brown, unconscious that the others were not following. ethel blue turned cold at her own audacity; but she had delayed the bishop in his afternoon walk and she must tell him what was on her mind. "do you think," she stammered, "do you think that a coward can ever become brave?" "i do," answered the bishop promptly and simply. "a coward is afraid for two reasons; first, he doesn't control his imagination, and his imagination plays him tricks and makes him think that if such or such a thing happens to him he will suffer terribly; and secondly, he doesn't control his will. his will ought to stand up to his imagination and say, 'you may be right and you may be wrong, but even if you're right i can bear whatever comes. pain may come, but i can bear it. trouble may come, but i can bear it.' do you understand?" ethel's face was beginning to light up. "you see," the bishop went on, "god has given everybody the power to bear suffering and trouble. you may be perfectly sure that if suffering and trouble come to you you will be given strength to meet them. and god has given us something else; he has given us the power to avoid much pain and suffering." "oh, how?" "one way is always to expect joy instead of pain. when you are looking for joy you find joy and when you are looking for pain you find pain. i rather think that you have been looking for pain recently." ethel hung her head. "i was a coward at the fire at our house, and i'm so ashamed it doesn't seem to me i can ever see my father again. he's a soldier and i know he'd be mortified to death." "he might be sorry; i don't believe he'd be mortified," said the bishop, and somehow the half-agreement soothed ethel. "they say that when soldiers go into battle for the first time they often are so frightened that they are nauseated. i dare say your father has seen cases like that among his own men, so he would understand that a sudden shock or surprise may bring about behavior that comes from nervousness and not from real fear. i rather think that that was what was the matter in your case." ethel drew a sigh of exquisite relief. "do you remember my two reasons for cowardice? i should think it was quite possible that in the sudden excitement of the fire your imagination worked too hard. you saw yourself smothered by the smoke or roasted in the flames. didn't you?" "i didn't really think it; i felt it," ethel nodded. "and you didn't stop to say to yourself: 'i'm going to do all i can to help and i'm going to be careful, but if anything does happen to me i'll be able to bear it.'" "no, i didn't think that; i just thought how it would hurt. and ethel brown saved dicky and wasn't afraid at all." "she didn't let her imagination run away with her." "i was so ashamed when she was doing splendid things and i couldn't move." "it was too bad, but you'll have another chance, i've no doubt. you know the same opportunity never comes twice but another one takes its place." "i can't face father unless it does." "one thing you mustn't do," declared the bishop firmly; "you mustn't think about this all the time. that isn't making your will control your imagination; it's doing just the opposite; it's letting your imagination run away with you." ethel looked rebuked. "now i want to tell you one more thing. i told you one way to avoid pain and suffering--by not expecting it. the best way of all is to do everything that comes into your life just as you think god would like to have you do it. if you work with god in that way god's peace comes to you. have i preached too hard a sermon?" he asked as they rose to go. "you think about it and come and ask me anything else you want to. will you?" ethel blue nodded. she did not seem to have voice enough to trust herself to speak. then she thrust her hand suddenly into the strong, gentle hand of the good man who had talked to her so kindly, gave it a big squeeze and ran away. the bishop looked after her. "it was too hard a test for a nervous child; but she'll have her chance--bless her," and then he slowly walked around the edge of the amphitheatre and rejoined his companion on the other side. ethel brown had just taken leave of her and was running after ethel blue as she dashed down the hill. "i hope she won't catch my little friend," observed the bishop. "she needs to sit and look at the lake for half an hour." the address on the holy land given in palestine park in the afternoon was one of the most interesting things that chautauqua had offered to them, helen and roger thought. palestine park, they had discovered early in their stay, was a model of palestine on a scale of one and three-quarters feet to the mile. it lay along the shore of the lake, which played the part of the mediterranean. hills and valleys, mountains and streams, were correctly placed and little concrete cities dotted about in the grass brought bible names into relation to each other in a way not possible on the ordinary map of the school geography. "i'd like to study my sunday school lesson right here on the spot," helen had said when she first went over the ground and traced the jordan from its rise through the sea of galilee into the dead sea, where, on week days, children sailed their boats and fished with pins for non-existent whales. now helen and roger stood with the throng that gathered and understood as they never had before the location of tribes and the movements of armies. most living to them seemed the recital of the life of christ as the speaker traced his movements from the "little town of bethlehem" to calvary. the later activities of this sunday again divided the morton family. mrs. morton and roger nodded to dorothy at the organ interlude at four o'clock. grandfather and grandmother sat through the c.l.s.c. vesper service at five in the hall of philosophy, the westering sun gleaming softly through the branches of the oaks in st. paul's grove in which the temple stood. after supper came the lakeside service and helen and roger stood together in the open and sang heartily from the same book and as they gazed out over the water were thankful that their father was safe in his vessel even though he was far from them and on waters where the sun set more glowingly. mrs. morton stayed at home in the evening to keep watch over dicky but all the rest went to the song service, joining in the soft hymn that rose in the darkness before the lights were turned on, and listening with delight to the music of the soloists and the choir. it was after they were all gathered again at the cottage that there came one of those talks that bind families together. it was quiet ethel blue who began it. "bishop vincent told me to-day that if you didn't think that things--bad things--were going to happen to you they were less likely to come," she said. "bishop vincent told you!" exclaimed roger. "what do you mean?" "she had a long talk with him after the junior service," explained ethel brown. "i walked on with miss kimball." "what i want to say is this," continued ethel blue patiently after roger's curiosity had been satisfied; "it seems to me that you're less likely to be afraid that bad things are going to happen to you if you keep doing things for other people all the time." "it's never wise to think about yourself all the time," agreed mrs. morton. "the bishop said that if you let your imagination run loose it might give you uncomfortable thoughts and make you afraid. if you're working for other people and inventing pleasant things to do to make them happy your imagination won't be hurting yourself." "our little ethel blue is becoming quite a chatterbox," commented roger, giving her hair a tweak as she sat on the steps beside him. "hush, roger. i wish you had half as much sense," said helen smartly. "anything more, ethel?" "yes. i wish we had a club, just us youngsters, a club that would keep us doing things for other people all the time. don't you think it would be fun?" "h'm, h'm," began roger, but a gentle nudge from helen stopped him. "i think it would be splendid, ethel blue," she said; "i know mother thinks it's just what i need for my complaint. mother, dear, i'm not selfish; i'm just _self-respecting_, and self-respecting people want to co-operate just as much as other people. i'd love to have this club to try to prove to you that i'm not a 'greedy jo.'" "i'm far from-thinking you a 'greedy jo,' helen. you're getting morbid about it, i'm afraid, and i believe this club idea of ethel blue's will be an excellent thing for you; and for roger, too," she went on. "what's the matter with me?" inquired roger a trifle gruffly. "you're a very dear boy," said his mother, running her fingers through his hair in a way that he was just beginning to like after years of considering it an almost unendurable habit, "but sometimes i think you've forgotten your scout law, 'do a kindness to some one every day.' it's not that you mean to be unkind; you're just careless." "h'm," grunted roger. "there seems to be a good reason for every one of us joining this club. what's the matter with ethel brown?" "i know," answered ethel brown before her mother had time to reply; "mother's going to tell you that i like to do things for people not to give them pleasure, but because it gives me pleasure and so i don't do things the way they like them but the way i like them. and that's really selfish and not unselfish." "upon my word," exclaimed grandfather emerson, "these children seem to be able to analyze themselves mighty closely! they agree on one thing, though--this club of ethel blue's is the cure that they all need for their different ailments." "let's have it," cried roger. "ethel blue shall be president and we'll let dicky be an honorary member and the grown-ups shall be the advisory board." "oh, i couldn't be president," said ethel blue shrinkingly. "it's your idea. you ought to be," insisted helen. "no, you be president. and let's ask margaret hancock to belong, and james. you know we'll probably see a good deal of them next winter now that we know them. they're only forty minutes on the trolley from us." "i wish we'd always known them; they're certainly great kids," pronounced roger. "if we have a club it will be an inducement to them to come over often." "what'll we call the club?" ethel brown always liked to have details attended to promptly. "do for others"; "a thing a day"; "every little helps," were titles suggested by one voice and another. "why not 'the united servers' if you are going to make it a club of service," asked mrs. emerson. "why not 'the united service'?" demanded roger. "with father in the navy and ethel blue's father in the army we have the two arms of the service united in the family, and if we call it 'the united service club' it will be a nice little pun for ourselves and express the idea of the club all right for outsiders." everybody seemed to like the suggestion. "now, then," declared roger, standing below the steps and facing the family above him; "it has been moved that helen be president. do i hear a second?" "you do," cried ethel blue. "all right. everybody in favor--" "aye." "contrary minded--" silence. "it is a vote, and miss helen morton is unanimously elected president of the united service club. what's the next thing to do?" "make dicky an honorary member," suggested ethel blue. "go to bed," over-ruled mrs. morton. "there are the chimes." so the president and members and advisory board of the united service club disappeared into the house and dicky was not informed until the next day of the honor that had befallen him. chapter xi the united service club is organized the hancocks were notified on monday morning of their election to membership in the new club. they were delighted to join, especially as it would mean after they got home a regular meeting with the pleasant friends they had had to come many miles from home to know. "what are we going to do first?" they asked roger who took the invitation to them. "helen has called a meeting for this afternoon at five o'clock. we'll decide on something then." "where's it going to be?" "up in the ravine just before you get to higgins hall. dorothy's going to make some sandwiches." "oh, dorothy's going to belong." "sure thing. our household can't do without her since grandfather was sick. i asked mother if mary couldn't make us some sandwiches, but she said mary was awfully busy to-day, and dorothy said if the club was to help people she'd help mary by making the sandwiches." "good old dorothy! she's begun to be a united server before the club has really got to working." "i don't see why i can't come in on the sandwich business," said james. "i'm a dandy ham slicer." "come over, then. dorothy's making them now on the back porch." so it happened that there was almost a meeting of the club before the time actually set for it, but after all there was not a quorum, according to james, while at five o'clock every active member was present, though the members of the advisory board were detained by other engagements. the ravine extended back from the lake toward the fence. through it ran a brook which the dry weather had made almost non-existent, but its course was marked by an abundant growth of wild flowers, including the delicate blue of the forget-me-not. "let's have the forget-me-not for our flower," suggested margaret as soon as they were settled on the bank under the tall trees. "we mustn't pick any of these, of course, but they won't be hard to find at home, and they'll be easy to embroider if we ever need to make badges or anything of that sort." "perhaps in the course of a few years we'll be advanced enough to have pins," said helen, "and forget-me-not pins will be lovely. even the boys can wear them for scarf pins--little ones with just one flower." roger and james approved this suggestion and so the matter of an emblem was decided not only without trouble but before the meeting had been called to order. "we certainly are a harmonious lot," observed james when some one mentioned this fact. "what i want to do," said ethel brown, "is to give a vote of thanks to dorothy and james and ethel blue for making the sandwiches." "good idea; they're bully," commended roger. "i move, helen, that the people just mentioned be elected official sandwich makers to the club." "don't call the president by her name," objected james. "don't you have parliamentary law in your school?" "no; plenty without it." "we do. we have an assembly every morning--current events and things like that and sometimes a speaker from new york--and one of the scholars presides and we have to do the thing up brown. you wouldn't call helen 'helen' there, i can tell you." "what ought i to say?" "'miss president,' or 'madam president.'" this was greeted by a howl of joy from roger. "'madam' is good!" he howled, wriggling with delight. "i do know how to put a motion, though. i'll leave it to ethel blue if i didn't set her idea on its legs last night by putting through a unanimous vote for helen for president." "you did, but you don't seem to be giving the president a chance to call the meeting to order now." "i apologize, madam president," and again roger rolled over in excessive mirth. "the meeting will come to order, then," began helen. "is that right, james?" "o.k. go ahead." "madam president," said margaret promptly, "do you think it's necessary for us to be so particular and follow parliamentary law? i think it will be dreadfully stiff and fussy." "oh, let's do it, margaret. i want to learn and you and james know how, so that's a service you can do for me. and helen ought to know if she's going to be president," roger urged. "here's where you're wrong at the jump-off, old man. you ought not to speak directly to margaret. you ought to address the chair--that is, helen." "what are you doing yourself, then, talking straight to me?" "bull's-eye. margaret was all right, though, madam president. she addressed the chair. what does the chair think about margaret's question?" "i think--the chair thinks--" began helen, warned by james's amused glance, "that margaret is right. it won't do us any harm to obey a few parliamentary rules, but if we are too particular it'll be horrid." "it's a mighty good chance to learn," growled roger. "i want to make old james useful." "if you talk that queer way i'll never open my mouth," declared ethel blue in a tone of lament. "then i move you, madam president, that we don't do it," said james, "because this club is ethel blue's idea and it would be a shame if she couldn't have a say-so in her own club." "i'm willing to compromise, helen--madam president," went on ethel blue, giggling; "i say let roger be parliamentary if he wants to, and the rest of us will be parliamentary or unparliamentary just as we feel like it." applause greeted this suggestion, largely from dicky, who was glad of the opportunity to make some noise. "there's a motion before the house, madam president," reminded james. "dear me, so there is. what do i do now?" "say, 'is it seconded?'" whispered james. "is it seconded?" "i second it," came from margaret. "it is moved and seconded by the hancocks that we do not follow parliamentary rules in the united service club." helen had felt herself getting on swimmingly but at this point she seemed to have come to a wall. "are you ready for the question?" prompted james in an undertone. "are you ready for the question?" repeated helen aloud. "let her rip," advised roger. "all in favor say 'aye.'" margaret and james said "aye." "contrary minded----" "no," roared roger. "no," followed ethel blue meekly. "no," came ethel brown in uncertain negative. helen didn't know just how to handle this situation. "three to two," she counted. "they don't agree," and she turned helplessly toward james. "right you are," he acknowledged. "why don't you ask for ethel blue's motion?" "but i didn't make a motion," screamed ethel blue, deeply agitated. "same thing; you said you were willing to compromise and let roger be parliamentary if he wanted to and the rest of us do as we liked." "i think that's a good way." "do you make that motion?" asked helen, prompted by james. "yes, i make that motion," repeated ethel blue. "hurrah for the lady who said she'd never talk 'that queer way,'" cheered roger. "it isn't so bad when you know how," admitted ethel blue. "is that motion seconded?" helen had not forgotten her first lesson. "i second it." it was roger who spoke. "question," called margaret. "it is moved and seconded that we all do as we like except roger and that he talk parliamentary fashion all the time." thus the president stated the motion. "oh, say," objected roger. "i call that unfair discrimination." "not at all," retorted the president. "you were the one who wanted to learn so it's only fair that you should have the chance." "i can't do it alone." "perhaps some of us will be moved to do it, too, once in a while. you see the president ought to know how. these hancock experts here said so." "you haven't asked for the 'ayes' and 'nos' yet," reminded margaret, and this time helen sent it through without a hesitation. "the next thing for us to decide," continued the president when ethel blue's motion had passed without a dissenting voice, "is what we are going to do. of course we can't undertake any really big things here at chautauqua where we have all our time pretty well filled and where we are studying things that we ought not to slight because they may help us out later in our plans for service. so i think what we must look out for is little things that we can do to be helpful. does anybody know of any?" "i know of one," offered james promptly. "tomorrow is old first night. that's the only time in all the summer when there is a collection taken on the grounds. all the money they get on old first night is used for the benefit of the general public. the miller tower, for instance, was an old first night gift, and part of the arts and crafts studios was paid for by another one, and the sherwood music studio." "great scheme," remarked roger. "you take your contribution out of one pocket and put it into the other, so to speak. where do we come in?" "they want boys to collect the money from the people in the amphitheatre. that's something you and i can do." "is there anything that girls do on old first night?" ethel brown turned to margaret as authority because the hancocks had been at chautauqua many summers. "there never has been anything particular for them to do but i don't know why we couldn't offer to trim the stage. i believe they'd like to have us." "how shall we find out?" "i'll telephone to the director to-night, and if he says 'yes,' then we can go outside the gate to-morrow afternoon and pick wild flowers and trim the stage just before supper." "you boys will have to go too," said helen; "we'll need you to bring back the flowers." "right-o," agreed james. "anybody any more ideas?" "we'll have to keep our eyes open as things come along," said ethel blue. "there ought to be something every day. there's recognition day, any way." "we're all too big for flower girls; they have to be not over ten; but mother went to the class meeting this afternoon and one of the members of the class proposed that they should have boys as well as girls--a boys' guard of honor--so there's a job for our honorary member, mr. richard morton." "if they have a lot of kids they'll want some big fellows to keep them straight and make them march right," guessed james; "that's where you and i come in, roger, thanks to your mother and grandfather and my father being in the class." "how about us girls?" "the graduating class can use all the flowers they can lay their hands on, so we can bring them all we can carry and i know they'll be glad to have them," said margaret. "can't we help them decorate?" "they always do all the decorating themselves, but the evening before recognition day there's going to be a sale of ice cream for the benefit of the fund the c.l.s.c. people are raising to build a veranda on alumni hall and we can help a lot there." "where's that going to be?" "there'll be hundreds of lanterns strung between the two halls, the band will play, and they'll have tables in the hall of philosophy." "and we'll wait on the tables." "we'll carry ice cream and sell cake and tell people how awfully good a chocolate cake that hasn't been cut yet looks so they'll want a piece of that to take home to one of the children who couldn't come." "foxy margaret!" "it'll be true." "i suspect it will. my mouth waters now." "you'll excuse my turning the subject, madam president," said james excitedly, "but there are some of the jolliest little squirrels up over our heads. i've been watching them ever since we came and i believe i've learned a thing or two about them." "what!" they all threw themselves on their backs and stared up into the trees. "they have regular paths that they follow in going from tree to tree. did you see that fellow jump? he went out on the tip of that long twig and leaped from there. he just could grab the branch that sticks out from that oak. i believe that must be the only place where it is near enough for them to make the leap, for i've seen at least twenty jump from that same twig since i noticed them first." "twenty! how do you know it wasn't one leaping twenty times to show off to us?" "it was more than one, anyway, for there was a chap with a grand, bushy tail and another one with hardly any tail at all." "cats," hissed ethel brown tragically. "very likely, since shooting isn't allowed here. last summer i saw a cat catch a chipmunk right over there by that red cottage." "did she kill him?" "not much! mr. chip gave himself a twist and scampered back into his hole in the bank. i tell you the stripes on his back looked like one continuous strip of ribbon he went so fast!" "poor little fellow. any more sandwiches left?" queried roger. "no? too bad. let's adjourn, then. madam president, i move we adjourn." "to meet when?" "when the president calls us," said ethel blue. "and we'll all have our eyes and ears open so as to give her information so she'll have something to call us for." picking up the honorary member and setting him on his shoulder roger led the procession back to the lake front, and so ended the first meeting of the united service club which was to fill so large a part in the lives of all its members for several years to come. chapter xii old first night for several days after the fire dicky had been far from well and mrs. morton had taken him out of the kindergarten. as he recovered his balance, however, it became evident that he would be very lonely in the mornings when all the rest of the family were away at their different occupations if he, too, did not have some regular task. he was so much stronger and taller than the other children at the kindergarten that roger, who was proud of his manliness, urged his mother to let him join the boys' club. "will they take boys as young as he is?" "it depends entirely on how young they behave, and dicky's no baby." "then if you think they'll accept him suppose you take him to the club and enroll him." so dicky marched bravely in among the hundreds of boys who help to make lively the southern part of the assembly grounds, and was duly registered as a member of the boys' club. if his rompers seemed to give him a too youthful air at one end the blue sweater adorned with the boys' club monogram which he insisted on donning at once, evened up his status. for a day or two roger had happened in at the club to see whether the little chap was holding his own and he had been so satisfied with what he saw that he no longer felt it necessary to exercise a daily watchfulness. dicky came and went all over the grounds now, and often enlightened his elders about some locality of which they were not certain. when the sun rises on the day that is to end with the old first night celebration there is always a suppressed excitement in chautauqua. the young men of the _daily_ are listening to the managing editor's assignment of their extra duties in reporting the evening festivities; the boys who are to collect the money from the audience in the amphitheatre and the men to whom they are to deliver it are receiving from the usher-in-chief their instructions as to their respective positions and duties; messengers rush their bicycles over the ground delivering notes of invitation to the people who are to sit on the platform. in the homes the heads of the families are deciding how much they can afford to give to the old first night fund and the other members down to the small children are examining their pocket books and shaking the pennies out of their banks so that every one may have a share, no matter how small, in the gift of chautauquans to chautauqua. the morton-emerson household had had its share of the morning excitement and mrs. morton and her father were climbing up the hill, she to go to the women's club and he to occupy his usual stool at the arts and crafts studios. at almost every step they nodded pleasantly to acquaintances, for they had many friends, some made before the fire, and others drawn to them by the spirit of helpfulness that makes chautauquans run to the rescue of distress wherever they find it. as they reached the hilltop and crossed the street to enter the post office for the morning mail their ears were saluted by the customary morning sounds. the ice cream booth and the bakery in the pergola were being replenished from heavy kegs and boxes which were in process of being unloaded from carts on to the ground before their destinations. crowds of people on their way to classes and clubs were opening letters and calling out home news to other members of their families or slitting the wrappers from newspapers and shaking out the front page to come at the war news quickly. shrill cries of "_chautauquan daily_" rose on every side as boy venders of the local paper pressed among the people, for they did their best business in the early hours. people who would not take the time to stop and examine the program for the day posted in the tree boxes would read it in the paper as they hurried on to ensure punctuality at their classrooms. "it really seems as if there was an extra hum in the air," laughed mrs. morton. "i think there is," returned her father drily. his eyes were fastened on a figure approaching them. "_chautauquan daily_" came from a small but earnest throat. "_chautauquan daily_; program for to-day and to-morrow." "upon my word!" ejaculated mrs. morton. "lecture by mithter griggth; addreth by doctor hurlbut," piped the piercing voice. "upon my word," gasped mrs. morton once more; "it's dicky!" it was. it was a radiant dicky. his romper trousers were spread wide on each side and he strutted consumedly. his breast heaved proudly beneath the boys' club monogram on his sweater. the elastic under his chin did not hold his hat straight upon his bobbed hair and the brim was canted over one ear and gave him a rakish expression. he was the picture of a perfectly happy boy and he was doing a bigger business than any other newsboy in front of the post office. people crowded around him and every time he shouted "lecture by mithter griggth; addreth by doctor hurlbut," they went into peals of laughter. "what shall i do, father?" asked mrs. morton breathlessly. "you wouldn't have the heart to stop him, would you?" mr. emerson asked in return. dicky's mother gazed raptly at him for a whole minute. "no," she said at last, "i haven't the heart to stop him." "it's in the air, as i said the other evening when helen was making her plea," said mr. emerson. "do you suppose it's money dicky wants?" "money and excitement. dicky will do a kindness to a friend and expect no pay for it just as you did when you were young, but i've no doubt that dicky also likes the feeling of some extra coppers in his pockets. i suppose there are pockets in those extraordinary garments he wears?" "yes," returned mrs. morton mechanically. "what is behind it all?" she asked again; "are we americans getting so thoroughly commercialized that even the babies want to go out in the street and earn money?" "i believe it's a love of adventure as much as a love of money. at any rate we've seen it developed in three members of your own family and surely our family traditions and the traditions of the army and navy are all against commercialism. i believe it is one of the modern phenomena that we must bow before. opposing it will bring unhappiness and trouble. the thing to do is to encourage such a spirit as your children are showing in this new club of theirs. let them be commercial if they will but make them understand that their business interests must not make them less human, less friendly, less willing to serve any one who needs their service." "it is very perplexing," sighed mrs. morton, but she walked away without speaking to dicky, leaving him the centre of a throng lost in admiration of his cry, "lecture by mithter griggth; addreth by doctor hurlbut." dicky's escapade was not the only one entered into by the mortons on this memorable day. right after dinner the whole club except dicky who, it was decided, was not up to the long walk, went outside the grounds to pick wild flowers for the decoration of the platform of the amphitheatre. the director had given his consent and had expressed his pleasure, so the hancocks and the mortons and dorothy set out in high spirits. it was late in the afternoon when they returned laden with their spoils. early goldenrod and asters filled their arms, feathery green boughs waved over their heads, and long vines of clematis trailed behind them. the ethels were not such good walkers as the others. even dorothy kept up with the big boys better than the two younger mortons, so they found themselves quite alone some distance before they reached the trolley gate. "um," sighed ethel brown; "i'm tired. i'd like to stop right here." "peg along," urged ethel blue. "if only it wasn't against the rule we might crawl under the fence just ahead there where the hole is." ethel blue looked at the place with longing eyes. dogs had burrowed their way under the pickets and had worn, out a hole that seemed big enough for thin people to get through. she turned to ethel brown. "it would be wrong to do it," she said, "but it would save us a long distance, because there's a short cut right to the amphitheatre just over there inside." ethel blue was open to temptation to do anything that required daring, for she was trying hard to gain courage by following the bishop's advice and by attempting little adventures about which she felt timid. "i'm almost dead," groaned ethel brown plaintively. "do you think they could possibly catch us? you know they tell a story of a fat woman who found a place like this and squeezed her way in and when she was all in a fence guard appeared and made her squeeze herself out again." "she was trying to cheat the institution out of her entrance money. we aren't doing that; we've got our gate tickets." somehow that made the matter seem better, though in their inmost hearts the girls knew that they were not doing what was right. yet with a look around and a gasp of excitement they pushed their flowers through ahead of them and then struggled through themselves. "there isn't anybody in sight," exclaimed ethel brown in the low voice of guilt, scanning the grounds as she helped ethel blue get on her feet. "we've done it, anyway," answered ethel blue, and she even felt a touch of pride, in the adventure, for at least she had not been frightened. they took their contribution to the amphitheatre and helped the others, who had been at work for some time, to arrange the flowers around the edge of the platform. the result was beautiful and the group was delighted when a hearty voice said suddenly, "is this the united service club? i want to thank you for doing this for us. we've never looked so fine as this before on old first night." "thank you, thank you," they chorused in return as the director left them. it was a happy though weary group that chattered its way along the lake front and across miller park. no sooner had they reached the cottage than the ethels told their story to mrs. morton with much laughter. for some reason she did not take the joke just as they would have liked to have her. "you know it is against the rule? everybody is expected to go out and enter through the gates." "oh, we know that. but what harm did it do? we weren't cheating the institution; we had our tickets." "suppose everybody did what you did. can you see any objection?" "it would look mighty funny," giggled ethel blue. "it would be rather confusing, i suppose," admitted ethel brown; "they wouldn't be able to tell who had tickets and who hadn't." "you don't really mind, do you, aunt marion?" "i confess i shall have to make up a new opinion about my honest little girls," she replied slowly. "have you thought what you are going to do about the punch on your tickets?" this hint was alarming. "what about the punch?" "everybody's ticket is punched on an odd number when you come in and on an even one when you go out. your last punch was on an even number, when you went out this afternoon. what are you going to do when you want to go out again?" ethel brown stared at ethel blue in dismay, and ethel blue's eyes began to fill with tears. "it will be perfectly clear to the gateman that you came in in some improper way." mrs. morton went into the dining-room to take a last look at the table and the ethels went upstairs to dress. somehow the fun of their adventure had faded away. in its place was a growing discomfort that was increasingly painful. they did not discuss their trouble and they put on clean dresses without their usual pleasure in their freshness and prettiness. mrs. morton did not allude to the subject again, and that gave the children additional feelings of uneasiness, for they felt that she was leaving the decision as to their future action entirely to them. roger, who was to pass a basket at the amphitheatre, hurried through his supper and whooped to james as he passed the hancocks' house. the other members of the two families went later and more slowly, enjoying as they walked along the lake front the familiar tunes that the chimes were ringing out. as they climbed the hill they were sorry that they had not made an earlier start, for people were gathering in flocks and the organ was already playing. once more they had to say, "this is the largest audience yet." this time it was remarkable for its number of old people, for it seemed as if everybody who ever had been at chautauqua made a point of returning to join in the celebration of the fortieth anniversary. the service arranged by bishop vincent for the opening night was used for the forty-first time, and tears ran down the cheeks of old men and women who recalled the passing of the intervening years and gave their memento of esteem to the chautauquans of bygone days when they joined the rest of the huge audience in lifting their handkerchiefs in a drooping salute to the dead. the chancellor introduced the president, and he, after a few words of historical reminiscence, introduced the speakers of the evening, a dozen of them, who spoke briefly and told some good stories. between their speeches were sandwiched the events that make old first night different from any other night in the amphitheatre. the members of the family of mr. miller, one of the founders of the institution, were honored by a waving chautauqua salute, invented long ago for a deaf speaker and continued because of its beauty. mrs. thomas edison, a daughter of mr. miller, thanked the audience for its tribute to her father and called for a similar salute to the vincent family. "there's miss kimball standing with two other ladies to be saluted," cried ethel brown. "and there's the president of the women's club with her," said mrs. morton. old songs were sung and "dixie" brought a large southern contingent to its feet. mr. vincent joked and cajoled his hearers while messengers and ushers gathered several thousand dollars, the old first night gift. best fun of all were the roll calls. between sixty and seventy were present who had been a part of the original old first night. thirty-two persons rose as having been at chautauqua for forty-one summers and a chautauqua salute sent them happily to their seats, for a chautauqua salute is an honor, not achieved every day. "i've been waiting twenty-five years for this," said a professor in one of the summer schools who received the distinction as a "good-bye" before a trip to europe. by way of gaining an idea of the breadth of chautauqua's call, dwellers in different parts of the world and of the united states were called to their feet. a small group rose as from new england; a very large group from new york and pennsylvania. the south stood solid in large parties all over the auditorium, and the west had sent many representatives. the showing from canada and parts of the world outside of our own country was by no means small. "who are the people on the platform beside the speakers?" helen asked mrs. hancock who sat next her. "the officers and trustees of the institution, almost all of the 'old originals' and some people of distinction who happen to be on the grounds." then they left the amphitheatre to go to the lake front for the fireworks and found themselves passing through a forest of brilliant lanterns swinging from the trees and casting their soft light on the paths and grass. thousands of happy people, some wet-eyed with memories, some wide-eyed with wonder, walked beneath them, talking of days gone by and days to come. so large was the morton-emerson-hancock group that mrs. morton did not notice until she was almost at her own door that the ethels were not near her. "they were in the amphitheatre," she said. "i saw them coming out," cried margaret. "we'll wait a few minutes and then if they don't come roger must look for them," said mrs. morton anxiously. but before she had had many minutes of anxiety the two girls came running up to the porch. they were laughing happily now, and in quite a different mood from that in which they had left the house earlier in the evening. "what in the world have you been doing, children?" asked grandmother emerson. "your dresses are covered with dirt." "mother knows." "aunt marion can guess." "i'm sure i don't and i can't. what have you been up to?" "it's all right about our ticket," nodded ethel brown gleefully. "how can that be?" "we were so worried about the punching coming out wrong that as soon as we left the amphitheatre we ran up to that hole in the fence and crawled out again, and then we ran down the road as fast as we could to the trolley gate and came in properly, so now our tickets punch all right." "but there's still a hurt in my girls' consciences, isn't there?" asked mrs. morton, drawing them to her and kissing them "good-night." "you see," she went on, "when you broke a law of the institution you were not law-abiding citizens." "but we weren't wicked, because we had our tickets--we weren't cheating." "that's true, but laws are made to help communities to run smoothly. if you do not obey them you are not co-operating with the people who are working for the happiness of the whole body." "'co-operation'--that's just team-work," mused roger. "right," confirmed mr. emerson. "co-operation is what makes life easy to live, it's what produces results, it's what makes the world better. be a co-operator." "me a co-op," agreed roger cheerfully, while the ethels sat silently on the steps and thought about it. chapter xiii flying "news, news, news," shouted roger as he turned a cartwheel before the porch on which his mother was sitting. it was the day after old first night. "what is it? vera cruz--?" asked mrs. morton and ethel blue, whose thoughts always were with the navy and army. "nothing to do with vera cruz," roger reassured them. "this event is much nearer home. it isn't any farther away from home than from here to the steamboat dock." "what is it, roger?" demanded helen. "you're so tantalizing!" "oh, for the white wings, sailing, sailing," sang roger, advancing gracefully with outstretched arms and retreating abruptly as dicky made a rush at him, head down like a young goat. "are you going to sail in the _humbug_ again?" "has she won another race?" "come, birdie, birdie, perch on this twig," cooed ethel brown with a gesture toward the piazza rail, "and tell us all about it." roger responded to this appeal, especially as it was re-enforced by the bait of a fresh cooky, held out invitingly. "ladies," he began impressively, as he roosted on the offered rail and took a generous bite out of the cooky. "just an instant, roger, until that cooky disappears," begged his mother with upraised hand. "i can talk all right," mumbled roger. "but we can't hear you all right," retorted helen. "oh, come, you like cookies as well as i do," remonstrated her brother, taking in the last crumb. "certainly i do, and ethel brown's are the best ever, but i eat mine in sections." "so do i--two sections," grinned roger. "there, now i'm sufficiently refreshed to tell you the news. i suppose you poor creatures didn't realize there was any news, eh?" "by a strenuous use of our wits we gathered that there was something in the air when we saw you approach," murmured helen, who sometimes found roger trying. "list, then, beloved members of my family----" "hark to the troubadour," mocked ethel blue. "now, child, if you interrupt your uncle roger you won't ever learn this thrilling piece of information that is about to fall from my ruby lips." "chirp on, then, ornithological specimen." "ma'am!" exclaimed roger, burlesquing a fall from the railing. "fortunately you don't catch me in the state of ignorance that you supposed when you hurled that awful language at me. i haven't got a grandmother who is a member of the rosemont bird and tree club for nothing. an 'ornithological specimen' is just slang for 'bird.' look out or i'll retaliate with 'chicken.'" "i'm no chicken," denied ethel blue instantly. "look at that, mother!" implored roger. "all fussed up over a trifle like that! and the funny part is that if _i_ said she was 'no chicken' she'd be just as mad! girls are so queer," and he heaved an exaggerated sigh of perplexity. "do let's have your news if it's worth telling," asked mrs. morton. "she doubts me," commented roger haughtily. "ha! you'll see, madam, that you have no reason to throw asparagus on my announcement. it's real news that i'm bringing. chautauqua, the spot that we're honoring by our presence this summer, chautauqua--is to have a birdman!" the result of roger's announcement was all that he had hoped and more than he had expected. the ethels fairly pranced with excitement. helen clapped her hands excitedly, and mrs. morton laid down her embroidery to ask, "when is he to come?" "how perfectly stunning!" "where will he fly from?" "where's he going to keep his machine?" "is he going to take passengers?" the questions flew fast and roger covered his ears as if they overwhelmed him. he answered his mother's question first. "he's due to-morrow, mother. they're starting right this minute to put up the tent he's going to use for his hangar. it's down side of the steamboat dock. his machine is what they call a hydro-aeroplane--" "it will go both in the water and in the air?" "so i understand. i saw a picture of it and it looked to me as if it could go on land, too, for men were pulling it down to the water's edge on its own wheels." "probably the engine doesn't work the wheels, though." "probably not enough for it to travel far on them. he starts off on the water, anyway, and then he rises from the water and the machine goes along like any aeroplane. it's a biplane." "meaning?" queried ethel brown. "that it has two planes--two sets of wings on each side." "you didn't tell us whether he's going to carry passengers." "i don't know. i asked, but nobody seemed ready to answer." "let's go down to the dock and see them put up the hangar." "after dinner, children, after dinner," insisted mrs. morton. "how long will he stay, roger?" "a week or two." "then you can surely eat your dinner before rushing off. we're so near the dock you can easily see every flight if you put your minds on it." mrs. emerson smiled at her daughter's words, for they both recalled a time when the morton children were so eager to see a new teacher who had just come to rosemont that they almost lived on the sidewalk in front of her house, in order that no passage in or out might escape them. seldom was a meal in the morton dining-room disposed of with such slight attention as this dinner which had to be met and conquered before the reconnaissance could be made. both ethels declared that they really did not feel at all like having dessert to-day, and they seemed grieved when mrs. morton regretted their lack of interest in it, but failed to take it as a reason for allowing them to leave the table before the rest of the family had finished. "if we've got to stay we might as well eat it," said ethel brown sulkily. "mary would like to see that you appreciated her thoughtfulness," said mrs. morton gently. "she has taken pains to make caramel custard to-day because she heard you say a little while ago that you 'adored' it." "good for mary. i'm a selfish susy," declared ethel brown promptly. "i'll eat two to make up for it," she added with a cock of her head. "o-oh," groaned roger, "and me planning to take advantage of the dear children's sudden and unusual lack of appetite!" "foiled again, villain!" declaimed helen. "now, then, i'll race you to the beach," cried roger as soon as dinner was over, and off they went, regardless of grandmother emerson's anxieties about the shock to their digestions. after all, the hangar proved to be not much to see. there was a large tent to house the machine and there was a small tent for a dressing-room for the aviator and another to serve as a sleeping tent for his machinists who were also to act as watchmen against damage from a sudden storm or a heavy wind coming up in the night, or the too curious fingers of the inquisitive during the day. the tents were entirely unremarkable, but drays were hauling from the freight station big boxes that contained the parts of the wonderful machine, and a rapidly increasing crowd stood about while their tops were unscrewed and the contents examined. a man who was directing the workers was proven to be the airman when some one called his name--graham. "it won't be assembled before to-morrow afternoon, i suspect," he had answered. "then i'll try it out carefully. a man bird can't take any chances with his wings, you know." "i'd like to ask him if he's going to take passengers," whispered ethel brown, and roger was so eager to find out that fact himself that he worked his way nearer and nearer to mr. graham when he heard some one put the question. "it depends," answered that young man diplomatically. "if the machine works well i may do it. or i may make only exhibition flights. i shan't know for a day or two." "what'th it'th name?" asked dicky, who had heard so much talk about birds that he thought mr. graham was bringing to light some bird pet. "its name?" repeated the aviator. "it hasn't a name, kid. it ought to have one, though," he went on thoughtfully. "you couldn't suggest one, could you?" "ith it a lady bird or a boy bird?" he asked. "h'm," murmured mr. graham, seriously; "i never thought to ask when i bought it. we'll have to give it a name that will do for either." "there aren't any," announced dicky firmly. "there'th only boy nameth and lady nameth." "then we'll have to make up a name. it wouldn't be a bad idea," said graham, turning to one of his assistants. "why not offer a prize to the person who suggests the most suitable name?" "it would help keep up the interest." "it doesn't look as if that would need any outside stimulus," smiled graham, glancing at the crowd, held back now by ropes stretched from posts driven down into the beach. when darkness fell electric lights were rigged so that the machinists might go on with their work, and all through the night they matched and fitted and screwed so that by morning the great bird was on its feet. by noon the engine was snapping sharply at every trial, and when the waning light of six o'clock fell on the lake all was in such condition that mr. graham was ready to make his first venture. the morton children were in the front rank of the crowd that thronged the grounds about the tents. an extra guard kept back the people who pressed too closely upon the preparations still under way, for a mechanical bird must be as carefully prepared for its flight as a horse for a race. when all was well mr. graham mounted upon his seat. he wore just such a blue serge coat and just such white flannel trousers as a thousand men on the grounds were wearing, and the mortons did not know whether to feel disappointed because his get-up was not more spectacular or to admire the coolness with which he stepped aboard for a flight that seemed to them fraught with peril in the every day garb of the ordinary man who never leaves the ground except in imagination. "i like him this way," announced ethel blue. "it makes you feel as if he was so far from being afraid that he didn't even take the trouble to make any special preparations." "i hoped he'd wear goggles and a leather suit and cap," said roger, who was decidedly disappointed. "those fellers look like some sports." but if mr. graham's appearance was disappointing, his flight was all that their fancy had painted it and more. he mounted with apparent carelessness to his seat, and then the machine was pushed from the hangar to the beach. leaving its beak in the water the helpers ran back and whirled its tail violently. a whir of remonstrance answered at once and the engine took up the complaint. "there she goes! there she goes!" cried roger and a hum of delight and wonder rose from the crowd. out into the water she swept, chugging noisily over the surface, her wings tipping gently from side to side as she sped. the people on the gallery of the pier house cheered. men waved their hats and women their hands. "she's going up! see her rise?" they cried once more as the big bird's beak turned upward and the body followed with a swiftness that took the whole machine into the air while the spectators were guessing how long she would drag before she felt the wind under her wings. and then, southward, straight southward, she flew, rising, ever rising until she was high in air and but a spot in the distance. not until the spot had disappeared did the crowd breathe naturally. "that's the most marvellous sight i ever saw!" "i wonder how it feels." "wouldn't you like to try it?" then came a cry of "here she comes back!" and in an incredibly short time, the engine's buzz once more struck their waiting ears. as he approached chautauqua the airman sank lower and lower, until he looked like a mammoth bird darting toward one shore and then the other, swooping down to catch an insect, and rising again until the rays of the sinking sun glistened on his wings. the mortons were not the only chautauquans who were eager to know if mr. graham was going to take up passengers. never did he make a flight that he was not beset by would-be fliers urging their company upon him. roger hung about with desire in his heart, but he never spoke to the aviator about it because he had seen so many grown men refused that he knew there was no chance for a boy. one day, however, he overheard a conversation between mr. graham and one of his mechanics which put hope into his heart. "i'm perfectly sure of her now," the airman said. "she flies like a real bird and i've got her tuned up just the way i want her. i believe i'll let the passengers come on." roger went home delighted. the next day he was at the hangar long before any one else, and spoke diffidently to mr. graham's helper. "i heard mr. graham say yesterday that he was going to take passengers to-day," he said hesitatingly. "of course i'm only a boy, but i do want to go up." "want to just as much as if you were a man, eh?" smiled the mechanician. "i shouldn't wonder if you did. have you got the price?" that there should be a "price" had not occurred to roger. he flushed as he said, "i don't know. how much is it?" "twenty-five dollars." roger drew a long whistle and turned away. "no flying for me, until flying's free," he chanted drearily. "forget that i spoke," he added, nodding to the young man. "too bad, old chap. perhaps your ship will come in some day and then you for the clouds," he called cheerily after roger's retreating form. "uh, huh," grunted roger skeptically, for never had he had the sum of twenty-five dollars to do what he chose with, and he set about banishing the thought of flying from his mind for many years to come. there was no lack of passengers at any sum the aviator chose to ask, it seemed. all the morton children were on the beach regularly at every flight and they saw man after man and woman after woman ascend. the novices always wore a nervously doubtful smile as they left the familiar ties of earth and water behind them and a laugh of delight as they came back unafraid and joyous. "it looks as if it must be the most perfect feeling that you could have," sighed ethel blue as they watched a beaming woman approach over the water and then come down from her seat beside the air chauffeur. "i'm like roger--i could almost die happy if i could have just one fly." "the airman has offered a prize for the best name for his machine," ethel brown read from the _daily_ at breakfast one morning. "don't i wish i could get it!" ejaculated roger. "or i!" "or i!" "or i!" came from helen and ethel brown and ethel blue. "it was dicky's notion. he suggested it to mr. graham by asking him what the name of his bird was. he ought to give a prize to dicky for putting the idea into his head," said roger. "or to some member of dicky's family who would enjoy the ride more," added mr. emerson slyly. "what would be a good name for it?" wondered mrs. emerson. "hummer," said roger. "it makes such a humming noise." "buzz-saw," suggested grandfather emerson. "bumble-bee," offered mrs. morton. "humming bird," suggested helen. "swallow," "_hirondelle_," cried both ethels at once. "_hirondelle?_ that means 'swallow,'" translated grandfather emerson. "you two had the same idea at the same moment." "it's prettier than a noisy name," defended ethel brown. "the swallow is prettier than the bumble bee or the humming bird," defended ethel blue at the same moment. "i'd rather give the machine a name that made you think of its graceful motion rather than one that makes you think of its horrid noise." "i withdraw 'buzz-saw.' you've convinced me," said mr. emerson. "mr. graham says here," ethel brown picked up the newspaper again, "that he'd like to have the suggestions sent him by mail and that he'll decide to-morrow, and that the prize will be a ride in his hydroplane." "me for pen and ink," shouted roger as he rose promptly from the table. "let's send ours in together," said both ethels at once. they often spoke together in this way. it seemed as if their being constantly together made them think the same thoughts at the same time. "we'll tell him that we called out swallow and _hirondelle_ at the same instant and so we're applying for the prize together, and we hope it will please him because it's the name of one of the most graceful birds there is and we think his airship is the most graceful one we ever saw." "perfectly true, considering it's the only one you ever saw," giggled helen. "never mind," said mrs. morton soothingly. "write him just that note and it will please him that you like his machine even if he doesn't care for the name you suggest." mrs. morton had thought seriously about the possibility of one of the children's going up with mr. graham ever since the airman had come to the grounds. at first she had dismissed the thought as of something too dangerous for her to think of permitting. then, as she watched mr. graham day by day and saw his extreme care and learned from his mechanician that he never failed personally to test every wire and nut before he started out, she grew to have such confidence in him that she was almost as disappointed as roger when she learned the fee for a fifteen minute trip in the air. now there was at least a chance that some member of the family might have the opportunity, so she made no objection to the sending in of the suggestions. there was a great writing of letters, a mighty flurry of envelopes, a loud calling for postage stamps, and a march in procession of the younger members of the household up the hill to the post office. "mr. graham flies to mayville every morning to carry a special bag of chautauqua postcards to the mail there," said roger. "let's go to the hangar when he starts. he always brings the bag down the hill himself and perhaps he'll have his own mail at the same time and we can sit off on the dock somewhere and watch him open it." "oh, i don't think we'd better do that," said ethel blue shrinkingly. "it would seem like intruding on him." "perhaps it might," agreed roger. "the truth is, i'm so perfectly crazy to go up i'm losing my manners." "let's write postcards to father and uncle richard, any way," suggested ethel brown. "you know they're stamped 'aerial delivery' or some such words and it will interest them awfully at vera cruz to know their mail started on its way to mexico by airship." they went into the writing room at the post office and prepared the special postcards, and had the pleasure of nodding to mr. graham when he came for the bag. they had slipped their own letters into the regular letter drop and they watched him receive a handful of personal letters, among which were their own, with a vivid interest because they felt that in a few hours their fate would be decided. "i'm going to feel sorry if i don't get the prize," confessed helen, "but not more than one of us can get it--unless he should take up the ethels together because they're little--and i'll be glad if one of us has the chance to go." "me, too," said roger stoutly. "but i wish he had an ark and could take the whole family." "we needn't be so sure that a member of our family will take the prize," suggested mrs. morton when they came home. "there are one or two other families on the grounds and i've no doubt the poor man will regret his offer when he has to open his mail." "he had some crop this morning," said roger. "i dare say it will grow all day long." it was the next day but one before the exciting question was decided. then mr. graham inserted a card in the _daily_. ethel brown read it again at the breakfast table. "'mr. graham desires to announce,'" she read, "'that two young ladies have suggested the name he has been most pleased with--swallow and _hirondelle_. he prefers the french form but he will be glad to discharge his obligations to both the persons who suggested practically the same name.'" "it's _us_," murmured ethel blue, too surprised to speak aloud. "'if miss ethel brown morton and miss ethel blue morton will be at the hangar at six o'clock this evening mr. graham will redeem his offer.'" "isn't it too wonderful!" gasped helen. "i'm glad of it," declared roger bravely and he tweaked each ethel's hair as he left the room. "i'm almost sorry," whispered ethel blue; "roger wants it so much." mrs. morton smiled at her. "you've won it fairly," she said. "we'll all be at the dock to see you go this afternoon." there could not have been a better evening for a first flight. there was not a breath of air to cause any anxiety either to passengers or to observers. the sun had sunk far enough for its rays not to be disturbing unless the aviator flew much higher than he was in the habit of doing. the crowd on the shore was the only upsetting feature to rather timid girls. "we mustn't mind them," whispered ethel blue. "there's always something disagreeable about everything nice; this time it's the people," agreed ethel brown. "they're kind and interested. forget all about them," advised mrs. morton. mr. emerson escorted the two girls to the hangar. "here are the two young women who suggested the swallow as the most appropriate name for your big bird," he said, smiling. mr. graham shook hands with them both. "i know your faces very well," he said. "you've been here every day." "yes," they nodded. "we're so much obliged to you," said ethel blue. "we've been perfectly crazy to go up," said ethel brown. "which of you suggested _hirondelle_?" asked the aviator. "ethel blue did"; and "i did," answered both girls in unison. "then i'll ask miss ethel blue to go up first, since it is her choice that i've had painted on my machine's wings." sure enough, as the aircraft came trundling out of the tent there were letters to be seen indistinctly on the under side of the lower planes. ethel blue clasped her hands nervously; but mr. emerson was speaking calmly to her, and mr. graham was taking a last look over the machine so that she felt sure that everything would be secure, and aunt marion and the children were smiling just the other side of the ropes, and ethel brown was waiting for her to come back so that she could have her turn, and above all, the words of the good bishop rang through her mind. "don't let your imagination run away with you." of a sudden she became perfectly cool, and when mr. graham helped her into the little seat and fastened a strap around her waist she laughed heartily at his joke about the number of holes difference between the size of her waist and that of the last passenger. then he climbed beside her, and the machine began to move clumsily forward as the men ran it down to the water. "hold tight," came a voice that was strong and kind. the water splashed in her face and she knew that the hydroplane was pretending it was a duck. then came the kind voice again. "we're going to rise now. open your eyes." she obeyed and of a sudden there thrilled through her the same delightful sensation she had felt in her dreams when she had been a bird and had soared higher and higher toward the sky. then she had wept when she wakened to realize that it had not happened at all. now it was truly happening. she was up, up, up in the air; the water was shining beneath her; the hilly land was growing flatter and flatter as she looked down upon it. trees seemed like shrubs, boats like water beetles. a motor boat that had tried to race them was left hopelessly behind. "it's bemus point," she screamed into graham's ear, and he smiled and nodded. "we're going to turn," he shouted back. then they dipped and soared, the aviator always telling her what he was going to do so that she might not be taken by surprise. as they approached chautauqua again they saw the people on the shore and the dock applauding but the noise of the engine was so great that the sounds did not reach them. "down we go," warned mr. graham, and in landing they reversed the starting process. there were smiles and shouts of welcome for both of them as they beached. "_hirondelle_ looks bully painted on the wings," called roger. mr. graham helped ethel from her seat. "you're the youngest passenger i've ever taken up," he said, "but i've never had a pluckier." "never a pluckier." ethel blue said the words over and over while ethel brown took her turn and sailed away toward mayville and then down the lake for a five mile stretch. "never a pluckier." she knew exactly why she had not been afraid. she had not felt that she was a girl trying to be a swallow; while the flight lasted she really had been the _hirondelle_ of her dreams. chapter xiv niagara falls "how would you two ethels like to go to niagara falls?" asked mrs. morton a day or two after the famous flight, as she slipped back into its envelope a letter which she had just read. "oh!" cried both girls in long drawn joy. "this letter is from mrs. jackson at fort edward in buffalo," explained mrs. morton. "lieutenant jackson is your father's best friend, ethel blue, and mrs. jackson knew your mother and she wants to seize this opportunity of our being near buffalo this summer to see her friend's little daughter." "not--me--and niagara?" questioned ethel brown. "she has a daughter about your age and she thought it would be a pleasant week-end for all three of you if you two could go to buffalo on friday afternoon and stay over sunday. she will take you on saturday to see the falls." "how perfectly magnificent!" exclaimed ethel blue. "how shall we get to buffalo?" asked ethel brown. "we've never been so far alone." "roger will put you on the train at mayville and mrs. jackson will meet you at the station at buffalo." "all we'll have to do will be to sit still?" "between the parting with roger and the meeting with mrs. jackson. exactly," returned mrs. morton, smiling. "are we equal to it?" ethel brown demanded of ethel blue in the quizzical way that made her so much like roger. "we are," returned ethel blue promptly, and the two girls marched about the room, their arms over each other's shoulders, with the back-step that they delighted in--one, two, three steps forward, and the fourth step back. "one, two, three, back; one, two, three, back," they chanted. "why this hilarity?" questioned roger from the threshold. "we are going to the falls, the falls, the falls, we are going to the falls in the morning," chanted the prospective travellers. "you are!" ejaculated roger. "when? how? are we all going?" "not you. only the two best-behaved members of the family are invited," declared ethel brown. "mother, aren't my manners the top notch of perfection?" roger demanded. "they're very good at times," returned his mother calmly. "'at times' means all the time, of course," insisted roger. "did mother ever compliment you like that, kids?" "you're going part way with us," they announced kindly. "good enough. how far? to buffalo?" roger beamed. "not quite. to mayville." roger groaned. "to mayville! three miles. you'll be saying next that i may have the privilege of walking there to see you off and waving my hand as the train departs." "that's just what we are saying, my child. except that we'll all travel the three miles in our trolley car or on our steamer instead of on our feet." "mother, mother! help! help!" cried roger, holding his hands to his distracted brow. "are these young women mad or do my ears deceive me? do i 'lamp' niagara falls? or does my part of the trip stop at mayville?" "if i get your meaning through your somewhat obscure language," replied mrs. morton who liked to take an occasional shot at roger's slang, "you'll not see niagara falls, but you will escort your sister and cousin to the train at mayville." "but you don't mean to tell me that those babes, those infants in arms are going the rest of the way by themselves? they'll be lost in the vastnesses of buffalo! they'll shoot the chutes or fall the falls or--" "when your breath gives out we'll tell you what has happened," remarked ethel brown loftily. "'pray do,'" quoted roger. "we've had an invitation--that is, ethel blue has--" "i judged as much," commented roger faintly. "--from mrs. jackson at fort edward." "ah! a great light begins to break upon me!" "she asked ethel blue to go to buffalo for the week-end and to bring me--" "--and we're to go to niagara falls on saturday," finished ethel blue triumphantly. roger frowned. "all i've got to say is that i'm proud to be the three-mile escort of such travelled young ladies. i bow before you and place my humble services at your disposal," which he did with an elaborate flourish and his hand on his heart. it seemed to the ethels that there were a thousand matters to be attended to before they went on friday. they had to decide what dresses they should wear and what they should take. each one had her own suitcase and they had been fitting their bags with small travelling comforts for several months before the summer trip to chautauqua. one or two trifling affairs still remained undone and these they set themselves to make before the eventful day of departure. "when i see a bag opened i know at once whether its owner is a tidy person or not," mrs. morton said. "everything ought to be neatly arranged and covered with a tuck-in square over all." it was the tuck-in square that neither of the girls had finished before leaving rosemont. now they were determined that if mrs. jackson happened to be about when they opened their bags she should see that these daughters were worthy of their neat soldier fathers. they went to the dry goods shop and bought each a half yard of silkoline. ethel brown's had yellow flowers on it and ethel blue's had cornflowers. these they finished with an inch-wide hem, featherstitched at the top, ethel brown's with yellow silk and ethel blue's with blue silk. when their bags were all packed they laid these pieces over everything and fastened the straps outside of them. "the cloth prevents the straps from doing any injury to your freshly laundered clothes, you see," explained mrs. morton. "and it keeps dust out, too," said ethel brown. "and it certainly looks perfectly scrumptious," decided ethel blue with her head on one side admiringly. the ethels were up bright and early on the exciting morning. "what's the use," demanded roger, "of your going around like dizzy antelopes at this time of day when you don't have to take the boat until two o'clock?" "you'd be doing it yourself if you were going," retorted ethel brown. "somehow it spreads out the fun." "for you," growled roger. "for us stay-at-homes it flaunts your good luck in our faces--no, i didn't mean that," he added quickly as he saw a shadow grow in ethel blue's sensitive eyes. "honest, i'm mighty glad you kids have got the chance to go. of course i am. i was only fooling." "i do wish you and helen were going too," answered ethel blue. "it would be lots nicer." roger saw that he had made a mistake by insisting on his misfortune, a mistake that often is made when we try to be funny, and he laid himself out to be especially nice to the girls. he took every care of them, carrying their bags, passing them through the gate and helping them on to the boat with as much formality as he would have shown to his mother and grandmother. though not long, it was a pleasant sail from chautauqua to mayville. the boat touched at point chautauqua on the other side of the lake where a group of summer-boarder young people were saying "good-bye" to a friend with many loud exclamations of grief. the boys wrung imaginary tears from their handkerchiefs and one of the girls pretended that she required a tub that was standing on the pier to contain the evidences of her woe. the ethels were hugely amused at this comedy and laughed heartily, while roger, who was still in a serious mood, frowned and called it all "stupid." at mayville they had to walk the length of the pier, but at its head they found the station. roger presented each of the girls with a magazine with which he had provided himself before leaving chautauqua, and a box of candy and a package of sandwiches gave them the wherewithal for afternoon tea if they should become too hungry for endurance before they reached buffalo. "afternoon tea without the tea," smiled ethel brown. "i do wish mrs. jackson had asked you," repeated ethel blue as roger helped her up the steps of the car. "she would if she had known how nice i am," laughed roger. "good-bye, good-bye," and he waved a farewell as long as he could see their car. once under way the girls gave themselves up to the excitement of their first travelling by themselves. they examined the faces of all the passengers and decided that no one was very handsome but that they all looked very kind and that they should not hesitate to call upon them for help if they needed it. "the old man just behind us is something like grandfather," said ethel brown. "if we don't see mrs. jackson right off when we get out at buffalo we'll ask him what we ought to do." "aunt marion said we'd better not speak to anybody except the men wearing the railway uniform," objected ethel blue. "if she isn't in sight when we get off we'll ask the conductor or a brakeman or a porter where the waiting room is and we'll go right there and sit down till she comes." but they need not have been at all concerned, for mrs. jackson was at the very steps of their car when they walked down them. a girl of their own age stood just behind her. mrs. jackson was tall, with light hair and her daughter was strikingly like her. "i'm sure this is ethel blue!" cried mrs. jackson without hesitation. "you have your mother's eyes, dear child. and this is ethel brown. here is my daughter. her name is katharine." katharine was not shy. she had lived all her life in garrisons and she was accustomed to meeting many people. she shook hands with her guests and took ethel blue's bag. "a friend of mother's let us have her car to come to the station in," she said. "it's just outside this door. it's more fun than going in the street car." the ethels thought so, too, though they flew along so fast that they hardly could see the sights of the new city. katharine chattered all the time. "you came along the lake almost all the way, mother says. it must have been lovely. i'm so glad we're here at fort edward. it's right on the water and the sunsets are beautiful." "this is the memorial to president mckinley," mrs. jackson informed the ethels as they drove through niagara square. "it was in buffalo that he was shot, you remember." it did not take many minutes to reach fort edward, which they found to be merely barracks and officers' houses, with no fortified works. "when canada and the united states decided not to have any fortifications between the two countries it looked like a dangerous experiment," said mrs. jackson when the ethels, soldiers' children, remarked upon this peculiarity of the so-called fort. "it has worked well, however. there have been times when it would have been a sore temptation to make use of the forts if they had existed." "i wonder what would have happened in europe if there had been no forts between germany and france," said ethel blue thoughtfully. "armament has not brought lasting peace to them," mrs. jackson agreed to the girl's thought. it was an evening of delight to the mortons. they always realized to the full that they actually belonged to the service when occasion took them to a fort or a navy yard. they saw the flag run down at sunset and they beamed happily at everything that katharine pointed out to them and at all the stories that lieutenant jackson told them. ethel blue was particularly interested in his tales of the days at west point when he and her father had ranked so nearly together that it was nip and tuck between them all the way through. "until the end," mr. jackson owned handsomely. "then old dick morton came out on top." it was novel to ethel blue to hear her father called "old dick morton," but lieutenant jackson said it with so much affection that she liked the sound of it. of course the niagara expedition was topmost in the minds of the ethels. "you've never been to the falls?" mrs. jackson asked. "i'm glad katharine is to have the pleasure of showing them to you first. i wish i could go with you but i have an engagement this morning that i can't put off, so gretchen is going to take you." "gretchen is like your mary," explained katharine. "she used to be my nurse. i don't ever remember gretchen's not being with us." gretchen proved to be a large, comfortable looking german woman of forty and the ethels liked her at once. they went by trolley to the falls. "it takes a little longer," mrs. jackson said, "but if you're like me you'll enjoy seeing a new bit of country and you can do it better from the electric car than from the steam train." it was a wonderful day for all the girls. the mortons enjoyed all the new sights and were not ashamed to express their delight; and katharine, although she had taken many guests on this same trip, took pleasure in seeing their pleasure. their first stop was before they reached the city of niagara falls. "what is this big place?" asked ethel brown. "they make use of the power of the water to run factories and to light towns," explained katharine. "you see those wheels lying flat on their sides?" she pointed down into a deep shaft whose dripping walls sent a chill up to the onlookers. "those are turbines," katharine went on. "the water from the river is racing along outside not doing any good in the world except to look exciting, so they let some of it flow in through those openings way down there and it turns these turbines and they make machinery go." "i noticed ever so many factories near here." "there are a great many here because power is so cheap, but they are also able to send electric power many miles away. buffalo is lighted by electricity from niagara, and there are lots of factories all around here that take their power from the falls." "what becomes of the water that makes these turbines go?" "when you see it come out of a small tunnel below the falls and compare it with the amount that is still tumbling over the falls you'll be wonderstruck that so small an amount can do so much work. we'll see the place later." taking the car again they completed their journey to the town and the girls could hardly wait to see the great cascade which they heard roaring in the distance. katharine led them first to the very edge of the american fall. the thick green water slid over the brink almost under their feet in a firm, moving wall, and they had to lean over to see it break into white foam on the rocks below. like a great horseshoe ran the upper edge, the centre hollowed back by centuries of wear from the swift stream that pressed out of lake erie through the ever-narrowing channel toward lake ontario. over the bridge they went to goat island where they seemed on a level with the swirling mass that bore down directly upon them. gretchen gave an occasional scream of anxiety. "dis water it makes me frighted," she confessed. the girls raced over the islands called the sisters and every sight on the american side except the gorge ride was behind them by luncheon time. refreshed by food they started out again. "we'll go down the gorge on the american side," explained katharine, "and come back on the canadian side. i've tried both ways and i like that best." the gorge ride was all that katharine had hinted. "it takes your breath away," gasped ethel blue as the car traveled slowly beside the turbulent water, crowding and racing after its fall from the cliff above, and hurrying on, incredibly deep, to its outlet. "i hardly want to look at it," admitted ethel brown as they passed the whirlpool with its threatening circular motion. gretchen frankly closed her eyes. "it is wonderful, but too big for me," she admitted. "you'll not be frightened when we go back, because the track on the canadian side runs high up on the cliff," said katharine. "then when we reach the falls once more we'll go down to the water level on that side and take the _maid of the mist_." "what's that?" "a tiny steamer. it goes close up to the falls--so near you almost feel you are under them." "you can really go under them, can't you? i've heard people tell about it." "yes, but it's no place for children, father says, so we'll have to put up with the 'maid.'" it proved, however, that they would have to put up with even less. for when they prepared to make the change of cars that was necessary for their return on the canadian side, one of the men in charge stopped gretchen. "you're german," he said. "_ja_," she answered placidly. "then you can't come here." "i can't come here! why not? i been here many times--i und my young lady." "no germans allowed here," he insisted. "she's my nurse," explained katharine. "my father's an officer at fort edward. he's an american. we are neutral," she insisted. it was all in vain. the canadian had his orders and he could not be moved. "orders," was all that katharine could get by way of explanation. being a soldier's daughter she understood that orders were meant to be obeyed and she did not insist for long. "it's too bad, but i don't see how we can help it," she said. "i suppose every german is suspected now, but it's silly to think gretchen is a spy," and she threw her arm around the shoulder of the german woman. she had been frightened by the man's roughness. "don't you mind, gretchen dear," she said. "when the war is over we'll come again. i'm sorry about the _maid of the mist_," she apologized to the girls, "but of course we can't go without gretchen." it was a rather thoughtful group that returned to buffalo, for the little experience with gretchen had made them all feel that the war they were hearing so much about was nearer than they had realized. "somehow it has seemed as far away as the moon," said ethel brown. "but now i feel as if it might jump out at us any minute." "it won't," lieutenant jackson reassured her; "but gretchen's experience gives us something to think about from many points of view." sunday passed happily and on monday mrs. jackson and katharine took their guests to the station and started them toward mayville, where roger met them. "it has been a wonderful visit," said ethel blue to her aunt. "mrs. jackson told me a great deal about my mother. she must have been lovely." "she was a very dear woman," replied mrs. morton, kissing her niece. "the only uncomfortable thing was about gretchen," ethel went on. "i wish that man hadn't frightened her." chapter xv the pageant "grandfather," cried roger as he sat down to dinner one day, "do you remember that when we were in the trolley coming here from westfield you promised that some time you would tell us about celoron?" "i forgot all about it, son. shall i tell you now?" "you won't have to now. there's going to be a pageant of the history of chautauqua lake and we'll learn the whole thing from that. there'll be historical scenes, and francis wilson, the actor, will wind it up with a real play. he's going to bring his company with him from new york." "who told you about it?" asked ethel brown. "the lady who is to direct the whole thing came to the girls' club this morning and explained it to us and picked out the girls she wants to take part." "i met the director and he told me," replied roger. "he's going to be la salle himself, and the director of the summer schools is to be another of those old chaps--brule, i think his name was; and the institution organist is to take the part of celoron." "what are you going to be?" asked mrs. emerson. "an indian brave." "i'm going to be an indian boy," piped up dicky. "the lady came to the boys' club, too, this morning." "you'll have to put soot on your hair, kid," teased roger, "and brown your speaking countenance." "so shall i," said helen. "i'm to be a squaw. a lot of girls from the vacation club are to be squaws. it will be awfully good fun except the browning up. they say that if you put vaseline on your face first the stuff comes off without any trouble." "i hope it does," ethel brown wished. "i'm to be an indian girl." "i especially hope it does," continued helen, "because i have to be a lady of the french court later on and i'd hate to have my indian color stay with me!" "everybody is accounted for except ethel blue. what are you going to do?" asked mrs. morton, smiling at her niece. "i'm a flower sprite and so is dorothy." "you can wear your own complexion, then." "i don't believe sprites ever have hair like mine." "you can't prove that they don't," declared roger, smartly. "the pageant is going to be the grandest thing of the sort that chautauqua ever had. there are to be lots of grown people in it, and the choir and the orchestra are to provide the music and there's to be a minuet--" "didn't i take my first lesson to-day!" exclaimed helen. "my knees are almost out of commission from that courtesy!" "they wanted me to learn that, too; hand on your heart business for the men, and prance around like an ostrich in a zoo trying to look over the fence! i told them learning the indian war dance was all i was equal to." "it's more in your style," commented helen drily. "it seems a good opportunity to learn both. you and helen might get up a minuet when your club has some sort of party next winter," suggested mrs. morton. "that's so," agreed helen; "and margaret and james are both going to learn it, and it will be a lot easier to drill the new ones if four of us know it already." "all right," roger accepted the proposal promptly. "i'll tell them after dinner that they can order one of those white monkey wigs for me, too." "you won't look any sillier than you will as a red indian," urged helen. "roger would like to have us think that he'd rather appear as a child of nature than a child of art," smiled his grandmother. "so i would," insisted roger; "but the main thing is to do what will help most, like a true member of the united service club in good and regular standing." ethel blue applauded. "that suits you, does it, kid?" and roger grinned cheerfully at the club's founder. "are all of you going to rehearse this afternoon? they say that when you run up into a bunch of people anywhere on the grounds for the next week it will be a squad of pageant performers rehearsing something." "it looks to me as if it would be a tight squeeze to get it ready in that time," observed grandfather. "the lady who is to direct the pageant comes from chicago and she has only this spare time in all the summer." "some of the parts are all prepared," said ethel blue. "how do you know?" "dorothy told me." dorothy sang in the children's choir and kept up with the musical activities of chautauqua more than the mortons, who were not especially musical. "dorothy says that all the music has been ready for some time, so that the singers and players will need just one rehearsal to fit them in right with the other parts of the performance." "and one of the vacation club girls told me," said helen, "that the elaborate costumes for the ladies and gentlemen of the french court were to be sent from new york and chicago, so that only the simple things will have to be made here." "the flower sprites are to wear floating slips of white cheese cloth," said ethel blue. "i think i can make mine myself." "i know i can make my indian clothes," said ethel brown, "because they are going to have patterns at the girls' club this afternoon and some one to show us how and we'll all make them together." "the vacation girls who are to be squaws are going down there this afternoon, too," helen said. "i'll walk with you if you'll wait till i find my sewing bag." "how are the sewing lessons coming on?" asked mrs. emerson. "the best ever, grandmother. i can make a pretty good buttonhole already and by next week i'll be able to fill mother's order for middies for the ethels." "perhaps your career will prove to be the humble one of sewing," guessed grandmother slyly. "i don't know that it is so very humble," defended helen stoutly. "it's one of the most useful occupations there is if you just look at the domestic side of it, and it can be developed into a fine art if you want to go into embroidery. and my teacher says that dressmaking is a fine art, too, when you are designing dresses and not merely turning them out as coverings for the human frame." grandmother laughed. "the factories will turn out the coverings for us, but i can see that your teacher means the adapting of a dress to the style of the wearer." "she says that a dress ought to be suitable for the purpose for which it is intended--" "that is, that there should be a sharp distinction between a school dress and a dancing school dress or, for a woman, between an afternoon dress and a dinner dress." "yes. the designer ought to study the use to which the dress is to be put and then plan it accordingly. then she ought to make it suit the person who is to wear it." "that point seems to be forgotten nowadays when grandmothers and mothers and daughters all wear the same ready-made dresses. the only difference in them is the size." "they ought to be suitable for the age of the wearer and for her size and shape. if you put a tall woman's dress on a short, fat woman she looks foolish. the lines of the costume ought to bring out the good points of the wearer's figure and make you forget her bad points." "that means that your mother ought to wear long, flowing lines because she is short and i can wear a tunic if i want to because i am so tall and thin that i can afford to have a few inches seemingly cut off me." "then there's coloring. i can wear almost any color because i'm rather indefinite; i just have to be particular about getting the right shade. but there are certain colors that margaret can't wear at all on account of her auburn hair--" "and certain color schemes that she can work out splendidly just because of her auburn hair." "doesn't she look pretty in that all brown suit of hers? and she's got a dress of a queer shade of yellow that is just exactly right with her hair and brown eyes. when she wears all those browns and yellows she looks like autumn." "we'll see you coming out as madame hélène and presiding over a big new york dressmaking establishment," smiled mrs. emerson. "i don't believe you will; but i do think there's plenty of opportunity for a real artist in designing dresses, and i wish more girls went into it instead of into teaching." "teaching and sewing used to be the only occupations that were thought to be suitable for women when i was young." "that was drudgery sewing--making men's shirts and doing a lot of finger sewing that can be done by the machine now in the wink of an eye. but the sewing that is worth while cultivating now is the kind that can't be done by the machine but by the fingers of an artist. embroidery and specialized dressmaking like that we've been talking about--those are the kinds of sewing that make you a craftswoman and an artist and not a drudge." "you've stowed away all that your teacher has told you, i see." "she did tell me most of that, but some of it i thought out and then asked her about. you see, since that time when i told mother i wanted to pay my board--" "i'm afraid you hurt your mother's feelings then." "oh, granny dear, do you really think so? i didn't mean to, but i couldn't seem to make anybody understand until i said that," helen paused an instant disconsolately. "any way, since that time i've been thinking a lot about what i want to do. i want to go to college, but i don't want to teach or be a nurse or a doctor. margaret says she's going to be a newspaper woman or be on a magazine or something of that sort. but i seem to be hard to suit." "it's a long time yet before you have to decide." "i know it is, but if i decide pretty soon i can make all my college work help me toward what i am going to do afterwards." "that would be an advantage." "the trouble is that i like all the homey occupations; i'd like to be the best housekeeper in the world." "that's a modest wish! however, housekeeping is a science in these days of organizing ideas and knowledge, and if you want to keep house on a large scale it would be perfectly possible for you to learn about sanitation and ventilation and so on at college and then find a position as housekeeper for some charitable institution." "or be a sort of teaching housekeeper connected with a settlement. i really should like that. if you don't mind i wish you and mother would visit the school of mothercraft that is in a cottage half way up the hill to the post office. i was passing it yesterday and i went in, and, interesting!--well, i should say it was!" "what do they teach--domestic science?" "not the same kind that other schools teach. they teach just what a mother ought to know to run her house properly and to bring up her children properly. they have babies there and the girls who are studying take care of them just as if they were responsible for them. they learn how to feed them to make them grow, and they learn--oh, it's the best kind of domestic science you ever knew anything about!" helen was quite breathless when she stopped. "your mother and i will surely go in the next time we go up the hill." "the school is in new york in the winter, so we can go to see it there sometimes--and i think--i really think, granny, that i've found what i want." "i hope you have, dear. it's an interesting something that you've found, at any rate. i'm afraid the ethels didn't wait for you. they went on when they saw us talking so earnestly." "never mind. i'm glad i told you. you see, i told margaret and she didn't think much of it. just housekeeping seemed too small for her. but i think it's natural and interesting and gives you lots of opportunities. if you don't have a family of your own to look after you can help out some other woman who has one that she doesn't know how to manage, or i--i really think i'd like to run an orphan asylum and be a mother to several hundred chicks at once." "if you don't hurry you won't learn how to make indian dresses for them." "they're easy," laughed helen. "i expect to finish mine this afternoon and make roger's to-morrow afternoon and then help on any others that are lying about to be attended to. margaret and i told our sewing teacher about the united service club and she said that she could give us a chance to help with these costumes. there won't be much self-sacrifice in it, for she's going to superintend it all so it will be almost like having another sewing lesson." "it seems to me she is qualifying to become a member herself if she is giving her time in the afternoons to helping out with all these costumes." "i come across people every day who are just like that, dear gran. chautauqua is the greatest place in the world, i believe, for co-operation and helpfulness." "helpfulness and kindliness and loyalty make up the 'chautauqua spirit.' you've probably discovered that that is a very real thing." "it's what makes everybody go about speaking to people they'd just stare at at home." "and finding out that they're interesting after all." over her sewing for several afternoons to come helen thought many times of her conversation with her grandmother and she was keenly delighted when mrs. emerson and mrs. morton went to the school of mothercraft and found themselves as pleased with its purposes and its way of carrying them out as helen herself had been. "we think we are making a new occupation for women out of her oldest occupation," smiled the head of the school. "we are organizing women's natural abilities and the duties that have been hers time out of mind in a modern way that will fit her to be a good mother and housekeeper in her own household or some other woman's, or to teach homecraft to students just as we are doing here. we've already had more applications than we have been able to fill for mothercraft teachers to go to the west." meanwhile, as roger had predicted, every part of the grounds was "infested," as he described it, with groups of people rehearsing for the pageant. in the hall of the school of physical education the minuet was being practiced whenever the gymnastic classes left the floor free for an hour; the reader with the water sprites and flower sprites and the bold representatives of the wind and the sun foregathered in the largest room of the school of expression; indian men and boys stamped and grunted in the boys' club, while the girls' club was the scene of the squaws' dance of grief. la salle and brule and celoron spent an anxious life warily dodging the people who wanted to capture them for rehearsals, and only submitted to having their measurements taken on condition that they should not be asked to try on their costumes until the day of the performance. it was helen and margaret and their classmates who were making them but they were so absorbed in doing all these extra matters in addition to their regular club tasks and pleasures that they felt it would only add one more thrill if at this last-minute trying-on all the costumes should be proved misfits and have to be made over in one day! nothing of the sort happened, however, though there were dress rehearsals at seven o'clock in the morning of the appointed day, when early risers saw braves in full war paint flocking to the lake front, with a tread not as stealthy as it would be at night when boots should be exchanged for moccasins. the scenes were staged on a large raft anchored in the lake before the hotel and girt with low bushes so that it looked like an island. the observers assembled on the lawn that sloped from the hotel to the water, and spread along the pebbly beach. those in front brought camp chairs or sat cross-legged on the ground and those behind looked over their heads. strong lights were thrown on the improvised island from electric lights with reflectors. mr. and mrs. emerson and mrs. morton were so fortunate as to secure comfortable and convenient positions. the three scenes of the first part represented myths of the indians who long ago used to live about chautauqua lake. the spirit of the lake appeared in a canoe drawn by invisible power. as she landed upon the island the flower sprites greeted her with singing. "can you make out ethel blue?" asked mr. emerson, peering through his glasses. "it seems to me she is the next to the end in the front row," replied mrs. morton. "that certainly is dorothy on the end." very charming they looked with their flowing white robes and their garlands, and very manly were the lovers, wind and sun, who wooed the lake spirit to remain on the island. their wooing was vain, however, for the spirit made them understand that she was to give her love only to a new spirit yet to come, mankind. the next scene illustrated one of the meanings of the word "chautauqua"--"the place of easy death." an indian princess, stooping to drink from the lake, was drawn down into its depths. the origin in the lake of the fish called the muscallonge whose size and spirit make its capture a triumph for fishermen was the subject of the third scene, in which indian braves fishing near the island were the central figures. the presentation of actual historical facts began with the second part. "i rather suspect," said mr. emerson amusedly, "that our young people are going to learn more history from this performance than i should have been able to tell them." "helen has been reading about the explorers in the library in the college. i imagine she has her eye on another history prize next winter." "here is what the program says is going to happen. let me read it to you before the scene begins and then we won't have to bother our heads about the story and we can try to pick out our children." "part ii.-- - . scenes of early erie occupation "three erie scouts are seen exploring the country with a view of settlement. after satisfying themselves that the island is safe and advantageous they depart, soon returning with their whole tribe. then follows an historical reproduction of an indian village. tents are set up, fires lighted, fishing and swimming indulged in. the children weave baskets and play games. all is peaceful, until an iroquois scouting party, passing near, shoots the chief of the eries. instant confusion reigns. the braves seize their tomahawks and pursue the enemy in canoes. the medicine man attends the wounded chief, the squaws moan in grief, and upon the return of the successful eries with their dead and prisoners, the young braves of the tribe indulge in a war dance. as the tribe work themselves up into a frenzy and bloodshed and torture seem imminent, the outburst is quelled and the attention of the indians is diverted by the coming of Étienne brule. "brule was a young frenchman who, in , carried a message of peace from samuel champlain, in canada, to the andastes indians in pennsylvania." all the young mortons except ethel blue took part in this scene. roger was one of the three scouts, and so was conspicuous enough to be easily picked out by his relatives on shore. it was not so easy to discover helen and margaret hancock in the group of sorrowing squaws. "they would be apt to be together; i believe they're both at the right," guessed mrs. emerson. there were so many indian children rolling around on the ground and playing with the flowers and the dogs that dicky was indistinguishable until the war dance with its shuffle and stamp and muffled shout excited him. james and roger were especially ferocious in appearance and in behavior and dicky found himself so entranced with his brother's spirited acting that he himself added a touch that caused a roar of laughter from the spectators on the shore. "do look at that _darling_ child!" cried one after another, and the mother of the darling child tried, to look unconscious while she was as amused as any one. "do you see?" exclaimed a voice directly behind mr. emerson. "he's following one of the braves about. he's imitating every motion he makes. did you ever see such miniature ferocity!" "he's a pocket edition." "he's the most delightful creature i've seen in many moons," said another, and dicky, as unconscious as a little animal, stamped and shuffled and shouted and enjoyed himself to the utmost. it was evident that to him the coming of Étienne brule was a sore disappointment. brule's approach was heralded by the arrival of a single canoe paddled by indians who told that a white man was on his way. then came three canoes bearing brule and his huron companions. the young man's calm air soothed the indians on the island and they invited him to land and to smoke the pipe of peace. he told his errand, gave them presents, ate with them, and went on his way. a period of years was supposed to pass between this scene and the next. "that will be long enough for helen and margaret to change their dresses," smiled mrs. emerson. again the island represented an erie camp, and again the coming of a white man was reported, but unlike his predecessor la salle arrived in state. he was in a large canoe which bore the banner of france and he was escorted by six canoes filled with ladies and gentlemen of france. landing on the island the "little father" claimed the land "with all the countries, lake and streams adjacent thereto" in the name of the "most high, mighty and redoubtable monarch, louis the fifteenth, most christian king of france and navarre." after an exchange of gifts the french ladies and gentlemen entertained the indians by dancing the minuet. this innovation in the wilderness was received with approval by the red men. the hancocks and helen and roger were easily distinguishable in the dance, and ethel blue, who had found her way to her aunt's side, together with dorothy, who was not able to find her mother in the crowd, were delighted over their elegance and grace. "ethel and i have almost learned it watching them practice," she whispered, "so if we really did do it in the club next winter we'd only have to train two boys." even longer than between scenes one and two was the lapse of time between scenes two and three. it was years after la salle's expedition that bienville de celoron, escorted by roger and james, who had changed again into indian costume, and a large retinue of other indians and of frenchmen arrived at the island. "they were six days, history says, in making the portage from lake erie which we make on the trolley in a little over an hour," explained mr. emerson. "they had to cut the forest as they travelled, i suppose," said his wife. "and carry canoes and food and travelling equipment for people." "it's no wonder they are languid," laughed mrs. morton as a disembarking youth moved so slowly as nearly to overset his craft. "celoron has the french banner like la salle," cried ethel blue. "he, too, is taking possession of the country for the king. see, the priest is taking the latitude and longitude of the new land." "what are they doing now? roger is digging a hole." "celoron buried lead plates in various places along his route. the purpose of his expedition was inscribed on them. probably roger is preparing to bury one of them here." this proved to be the case. when the hole was ready the plate was placed in it with due ceremony and then celoron made a formal announcement of the claim of the king of france, and this section of the pageant was ended. "oh, i'd like to see it all again," sighed ethel blue, looking about for ethel brown as the party moved with the crowd up the hill to the amphitheatre. helen sat and looked and laughed and wept a tear or two as the story of "the little father of the wilderness" came to its pathetic, triumphant end. yet through it all her heart was light because the days of the pageant with all their hurry and labor had brought her a glimpse of the future, a glimpse of a work that might be hers when she was free to choose--a glimpse of a work that would help others as well as herself and that would mean a career and yet the life of home. chapter xvi think help! ethel brown's head had been turned by the praise she received after the fire. so many people complimented her on her coolness and daring that she began to think that she had done something extraordinary. her feeling was increased by ethel blue's attitude of humiliation over her own terror on that occasion. she told her cousin frankly that she thought she had been perfectly wonderful and ethel brown could see that ethel blue had never forgotten that she herself made but a poor showing in the emergency. she did not stop to think that ethel blue was a far more nervous girl than she, and that it was entirely natural for her to do without thinking what required a distinct effort on the part of ethel blue. as a result of holding this extremely good opinion of herself, ethel brown's manner had become so condescending that mrs. morton was obliged to call her attention to it. it was a painful enlightenment for ethel brown. she loved ethel blue as if she were a sister, and she never consciously would have been unkind to her; yet not only had she been behaving in a way that would not help the more delicate girl to better her failing but she was becoming not an agreeable young person to have about. "oh, mother," she sobbed, "i must be just awful! what can i do? tell me what to do!" "the very first thing to do is to houseclean your mind." "what do you mean by that?" "you must first rid your mind of the idea that you are a remarkable young woman. you did your duty well, but there is nothing so astonishing in doing one's duty that a person need dwell on it forever after. do your duty as a matter of course and then forget that you have done it and go on to the next duty." "but it's exciting to think that you've done something very well." "if you keep up excitement a long time you get very tired of it. if you follow my suggestion you have a comfortable feeling all the time. my process is just like housecleaning a room; before you clean the walls and floor you remove the furniture. when the bare room is fresh once more you move in the articles that you want there for use or adornment." "clean out bad thoughts and put in--" "only such thoughts as you are going to find valuable. for instance, after you have cleaned out of your mind the idea that you are very superior to ethel blue you ought to fill your mind with thoughts of helpfulness for her. you must think of all the good points she has; think how gentle she is and truthful and how brave she is about taking blame when she deserves it. you never find ethel blue failing to admit her responsibility for accidents or mistakes even when it takes a good deal of moral courage to do it." ethel brown flushed. she remembered times when, according to her, accidents had happened without any human assistance. "you must give ethel blue a feeling that you believe in her physical courage as well as her moral courage. you must always think of her as brave and when you talk with her on any such subjects you must take it for granted that she is brave. it is natural for a person to try to live up to the opinion that other people hold of him." "that is true, i believe," said ethel thoughtfully. "is that why you said 'dicky is quite old enough to do that errand for me' yesterday after i had said, 'dicky, you're such a baby, you'll never remember that'?" "it was. if you treat dicky as a baby he'll stay a baby long after he ought to. he's not a baby now just because roger has always treated him as a companion and helen has let him help her when he could. don't you remember that roger went to the boys' club with dicky for three or four days after he entered? that was to see how dicky behaved. he didn't say to dicky, 'you're just a baby so i'm going to see whether you act like a baby.' if he had said that dicky probably would have behaved like the baby he was told he was. but roger told dicky that no babies were allowed in the boys' club, and the result was that dicky stood on his own feet and met the other youngsters as boy to boy and not as if they were real boys and he was just a baby there on sufferance." "i never thought before that we had any influence on other people like that." "once i knew a girl who was rather slow in speech. it gave people an impression that she was not very bright, and they began to treat her as if she were stupid." "wasn't she really?" "she had a good mind. but after a while people outside of her family took up the family's attitude of constantly under-rating everything she said and did. the result was that she lost all confidence in herself. she believed that if older people in whom she had faith thought she was stupid she must be stupid; and she was really becoming stupid." "what happened?" "some one suggested that she go to a certain boarding school. there no one knew of this family attitude toward her and she was treated just like all the other girls. it gave her self-confidence and as she made one success after another in school she developed in every way like a flower in the sunshine." "i'm going to try to help ethel blue if i can; and i guess you're right about being more comfortable with a house-cleaned mind; i feel better already, somehow." "you'll feel better all the time. now this coming week i want you to see if you can't be of special help to your grandmother. it's recognition week and your grandfather and i will be busy with the graduating class every day so we can't go about with grandmother as much as we usually do. she will miss it if she doesn't have a companion." "i'll remember. i'll go whenever she wants me." "you may have to go with her sometimes when you'd rather go somewhere with the girls." "i'll do it. when we got up the service club we were all telling why it would be good for us and i said then that i liked to do things for people just for selfish reasons." "you'll be a service club member of the right sort when you do kindnesses that you don't like to do." "so far all the services that the club has performed have been things that were fun. we haven't been tried out yet." "here's your chance, then. there are teas for the dickens class on friday and saturday afternoons so you must be on call then while grandfather and i are away. on saturday evening there is a large reception at the hotel for all the c. l. s. c. people and helen is to help serve the lemonade, so you and ethel blue will have to stay at home with dicky." "what happens on sunday?" "grandmother will march with her own class, the 's, and sit with them in the amphitheatre to listen to the baccalaureate sermon. in the afternoon at the c. l. s. c. vesper service bishop vincent is to give a special address to the graduates. there will be room for others so grandmother will be there and will not need you, but you'd better go home with her after the song service in the evening, for grandfather and i will go from the amphitheatre to the hall of philosophy where the vigil of the class of ' is to be held." "the graduates are busy just about every minute, aren't they?" "not on monday; that day is quite an ordinary chautauqua day; but on tuesday the class holds its annual breakfast. at that hour grandmother won't want you especially. in the evening she will be receiving with her own class in their room in alumni hall so you will be free to take a table in the hall of philosophy and help serve the ice cream." "margaret is trying to arrange it so that all the service club girls can have tables near each other, and the boys are going to hang around and be ready to carry the heaviest trays." "wednesday is recognition day and grandmother will be occupied all day, so you need not be disturbed about her." "i'll look in the c. l. s. c. column in the _daily_ every morning, just as miss kimball said that grandmother ought to do, and then i'll ask her what her plans are." chapter xvii recognition week although the young people had but a small part in the proceedings of recognition week, they took a vivid interest in all the festivities in which mr. emerson and mrs. morton took part, and they never failed to notice the rose-bedecked men and women whose numbers increased every day. "everybody who has ever read the chautauqua course seems to be wearing some sort of c. l. s. c. badge," said ethel blue at the table on saturday evening. "only those who have graduated," explained mrs. emerson, "wear garnet badges like mine. the 's are wearing their class flower, the english rose, and the new class just forming has an olive green bow." "wouldn't it be fun if all the class members from all over the world could be here to graduate!" "what a flock there would be!" "how many _will_ be here?" "about a hundred and fifty or two hundred. that's a small fraction of the class but they come from so many different places that they are fairly representative of the whole class." "the rooms were crowded at the reception yesterday afternoon and this afternoon and every trolley is bringing more." in honor of the class helen wore a rose-covered dress at the c. l. s. c. reception at the hotel in the evening. she carried dozens of trays of lemonade and was a tired girl when the chimes, belated for the occasion, at last rang out their warning. with the rest of the family she was ready in plenty of time, however, for an early start to see the c. l. s. c. procession march into the amphitheatre for the baccalaureate sermon. the hancocks and dorothy and her mother took their places in the auditorium to see the classes march in, but roger and helen and the ethels drifted along beside the troop of readers, discovering mrs. emerson in the class of and mrs. morton and her father and dr. hancock with the dickensians. in the afternoon the young people followed again, this time to the hall of philosophy where they stood on the edge and heard the chancellor address words of inspiration and comfort to the graduates. once more they stood at a distance when night brought the hour for the vigil of the class of ' . athenian lights flared about the hall and flung tree shadows and the bending shapes of men and women against the black earth. under the classic roof of the temple gathered the classmates met here at chautauqua after four years of work done separately. here they united in thoughts of the good the past had brought and the happiness that the future had in store. "why do they call it a vigil?" asked ethel blue. ethel brown had gone home with her grandmother but her cousin could not resist the call of a name that sounded mysterious to her, and she had come with helen and roger. "didn't you ever read about the young squires watching over their armor on the night before they received the honor of knighthood?" inquired helen, who was the "family authority on history and antiquities," according to roger. "they were left alone in the chapel of the palace where the ceremony was to take place, and there they prayed that they might live worthy lives and do no wrong and always help the poor and the distressed and always honor women." "we think we are serious nowadays but i don't believe there are many fellows who think as seriously as that about their life work," observed roger. the young people had no part in the joys of the class breakfast and "frivol" beyond laughing uproariously at the account of it which they received later from the elders who were there. in the evening of tuesday, however, the club came out in force. at that time the whole interest of the grounds was centred around alumni hall. the building itself was ablaze with light, every class receiving in its own room except the dickens class, which had so many representatives that it made use of the large room at the top of the house. outside, the grounds between alumni hall and the hall of philosophy were bright with colored lanterns. in the hall the band played the jolliest of music in one corner and the remainder of the space was occupied by small tables crowded with people. it was here that the united service club proved its usefulness. as long as there was any one to wait on its members ran to and fro carrying trays and making change, and when there were no more guests they themselves fell to and consumed all that was left. "i never object to eating ice cream for a veranda fund or any other reason," confessed james solemnly and roger nodded a grave assent. before they went on duty at the hall, the club proceeded in a body to pay their respects to the graduating class. there were so many 's that they extended all around the large room and before them an unending line of people passed, shaking hands and offering congratulations. mrs. morton stood between her father and dr. hancock before a bust of bishop vincent that gazed benevolently at the procession as it wound past the corner. the children claimed her as a "sweet girl graduate" and roger greeted his grandfather as if he were only an older student in his own school. "you youngsters needn't be feeling so humorous," ejaculated dr. hancock. "the c. l. s. c. will catch you at some time in your life if it has to wait until you are seventy, so you might as well read the course as soon as you are out of school, and get it out of the way." behind the mortons and hancocks came dorothy, her thin little face beaming with delight at the meeting that was coming. "this is my mother, mrs. morton. mother, this is ethel brown's mother and ethel blue's aunt." the hands of the two women met in a long clasp, and they gazed into each other's eyes with instant liking. "you have been kindness itself to my little girl," murmured mrs. smith. "we can never forget her efficiency and helpfulness when father was ill," returned mrs. morton; "and, if you'll allow me to say so, my mother, mrs. emerson, is a great admirer of yours." "have i met your mother?" "you've been teaching her to make wonderful embroideries." "is _that_ mrs. emerson your mother? i've grown very fond of her in her visits to the arcade veranda." "we must know each other better, if you will," smiled mrs. morton as the mother and daughter passed on to greet others. "dorothy looks so much like the ethels that it startles me sometimes," remarked mr. emerson, looking after them before some one else claimed his hand. "girls of that age all wear their hair in the same fashion so they look like those paper dolls that we used to make in strings out of one piece of paper and put over the electric lights in the nursery." "perhaps it is the hair, but their features certainly are alike." "poor little dorothy has a wistful expression that our children don't have, i am glad to say. i'm afraid she and her mother have had a hard time." "i'm sure we must have shaken hands with at least a hundred thousand chautauquans," groaned dr. hancock; "don't you think we might go over to the hall of philosophy and get the united service club to minister to our inner men?" "i believe we've done our duty now; the crowd seems to be lessening; let's escape," and the two gentlemen escorted mrs. morton under the lanterns to the fire-lit temple where the members of the united service club hailed them, installed them at tables, and did their best to refresh them. "will you put my arm in a splint, doctor?" asked mr. emerson, rubbing his shoulder ruefully. "if you'll do mine. we'll go about like wounded twins!" at six o'clock the next morning dicky was stirring. "helen, get out my white thuit, pleathe, pleathe, pleathe," he pleaded impatiently. "your white suit? what for?" asked helen drowsily. "this isn't sunday." "it's recognition day. don't you remember? grandfather and mother are going to graduate. i'm in the boyth guard of honor. pleathe hurry." the ethels were not much later than dicky in their preparations, for they were to help the young ladies who arranged the baskets and made the wreaths for the flower girls. the mortons were too tall to join the ranks themselves, and they were envious of dorothy, whose lesser height admitted her to the band, although this would be her last year. it was a busy scene when the girls reached the top of the hill beside the post office. huge hampers of flowers lay beneath a table of planks stretched on trestles. around it were grouped a dozen of the girls of the vacation club weaving wreaths for the heads of the little girls who soon began to arrive, and filling small baskets for them to carry. some of the children were so small that their nurses had to come with them. they were put first in the long line of twos, while dorothy and della watkins, who were the tallest of all, were the very last. every girl had a white dress and they made a charming picture which drew a crowd of grown-ups to watch them. near by was the boys' guard of honor, dicky among them. their uniform was a white suit and black stockings, and helen and one or two other daughters of members of the class were pinning on with a rose their shoulder sashes of eton blue, the class color. each boy carried a white pennant lettered in blue, dickens. they were a fine, manly looking lot of youngsters and they, too, drew compliments from the onlookers. roger was marshaling them. these groups were far from being the only people on the square. banner boys were bringing the standards from alumni hall and setting them up as a rallying point for the c. l. s. c. classes. james hancock carried the flag of a class whose representatives all happened to be women and not strong enough to lift the standard with its heavy pole. tom watkins carried the banner of grandmother morton's class, the 's, because his mother belonged to it. mrs. emerson did not march with the 's because she was to pass through the golden gate after the graduating class. back and forth went the institution band, escorting one division and another of the mustering throng. all the undergraduates wore oak leaves to distinguish them from the graduates. the hoot of an owl rose from a group of 's, who, because they were the athene class, had taken the sacred bird of the goddess of wisdom for their emblem. other classes were choosing cheer leaders and practicing their yells with greater or less success. "the year numbers on these banners don't give you much idea of the ages of the people under it!" laughed tom watkins to helen as she passed him. "there's a -year old graduate in and a -year old," smiled helen. "where are the 's?" she asked, looking about her. "they don't march with the rest; they gather at the golden gate at the lower end of st. paul's grove," explained tom. "the best thing for you to do if you want to see all the different parts of the procession is to watch the start-off here and then rush down the hill to the chancellor's cottage and see him fall into the line with the marshal of the day as his escort. then go to the grove and see the class pass through the gate and up the steps of the hall of philosophy, and then hang around the outskirts until they come out and march to the amphitheatre for the address." helen followed tom's advice, waving her hand to dorothy and della among the flower girls, kodaking dicky in the guard of honor, and standing with the hancocks while her mother and grandmother and dr. hancock, followed in a later group by mrs. emerson, passed through the gate. the class walked between the flower girls strewing blossoms under their feet, beneath the arches symbolizing history, literature, science and faith, between the lines of the choir singing a "hail" of welcome, and up the steps at whose top waited the chancellor. once in the hall the service of recognition followed; the tale of the historic c. l. s. c. banner was related; five mosaic tablets laid in the flooring were dedicated, and then the lines re-formed and started to the amphitheatre. the boys' guard of honor preceded the 's and repeated their yell. "chautauqua! chautauqua! chau-tau-qua! nineteen-fourteen! rah! rah! rah!" came the shout in the unaccustomed voices of the dickens class. "show 'em how to do it!" mrs. morton heard roger urging his flock in an undertone. "chautauqua! chautauqua! chau-tau-qua! nineteen-fourteen! rah! rah! rah!" rang out the yell heartily from three score unabashed juvenile throats. "great!" commended roger in a half whisper. "fine! thank you!" responded the dickensians gratefully. along the lake front the long line twisted, banners shining, handkerchiefs waving. the moving picture man ground his crank painstakingly; kodakers snapped along the pathway; relatives called out, "there's mary," or, in shriller tones, "hullo, marmer." the marshal of the division preceded the gleaming white dickens banner, bearing the class name and year; just behind it followed the class officers and then the smiling ranks wound once more between greeting graduates and the boys and flower girls into the amphitheatre. with the procession seated in the auditorium the young people's work was ended. the girls and boys went off to be refreshed with ice cream cones and the older boys rested under shady trees until such time as they would have to take back the banners to the class rooms in alumni hall. "it's a great show," commented tom watkins, passing his handkerchief over his perspiring forehead. "a feller doesn't get tired of it if he has seen it all his life," agreed james, falling on to his back with his knees crossed high in air. "we'll have to read the course ourselves so as to take part in every section of the performance," said roger who had disposed of his charges and was not sorry to sit down after his unaccustomed duties. again the young people fringed the hall of philosophy in the afternoon when the chancellor gave out the diplomas and pronounced the members of the class of full fledged members of the alumni society of the hall in the grove. "what hath mother done to make her graduate?" asked dicky in a far-reaching whisper as mrs. morton received her diploma and was applauded for the bishop's announcement that she had earned ten seals. "she has read certain books and magazines faithfully for four years," explained helen, "she didn't read a little bit and then say she was sick of that book, the way i do sometimes; she stuck right to them and read them very carefully, so the chancellor has given her a diploma, telling what she has done." "when i grow up," declared dicky, "i'm going to be a chanthellor and give people diplomaths and make 'em laugh and clap." "mother," said ethel brown in the afternoon when mrs. morton and mr. emerson and their admiring family had returned to the cottage, "would you object if we had a party this evening while you and grandfather and grandmother are at the c. l. s. c. banquet?" "what sort of party, dear?" "oh, i'd like to ask the hancocks and the watkinses to supper to celebrate--to celebrate--i don't know just what!" ethel ended tamely. "i think in your own mind you'd like a celebration of having finished an unselfish week. isn't that it? you can make it a celebration for the watkinses if you initiate them into the united service club this evening. will that do?" chapter xviii in camp by the time that the ethels had learned how to swim well enough to induce mrs. morton to let them go across the lake to the girls' club camp the season was so far advanced that they had trouble in getting their names on the list at all. dorothy and della waited to take their turn at the same time, and when the institution motor-boat at last carried them over it was the last trip of the season. they found the camping ground on the other side in perfect order for their coming. "every squad of campers finds all that it needs to pitch camp with immediately, even down to the wood to make the camp fire," explained miss roberts. "see," cried ethel blue, "there it is, stacked up for us. who does it?" "the last campers. there was a detachment from the boys' club here last night." "they were fine cleaners--for boys," commented della. "boys are good cleaners," asserted ethel brown. "oh, roger has army and navy ideas about neatness, but ordinary boys aren't so careful." "on an earlier trip you girls would leave the camp in just the order in which you found it, wood and all. this is the last one, however, so you won't have to chop wood, but everything else must be so arranged that the men who come over to dismantle the camp will find everything in its place." it was an evening of delight, to all the girls but especially to ethel blue, who had heard her father tell of his camping experiences so often that she felt as if she were repeating one of them through the kind influence of some good fairy who had touched her with her wand without her knowledge. pitching the tents was not easy but the girls managed it under the direction of one of miss roberts's assistants. their united strength was needed for that, but when it was done they divided the remainder of the tasks. dorothy was one of the squad that made the fire. ethel brown went with the girls who took the camp pails to the nearest farmhouse to draw drinking water from the well. della and three others went up the road a little farther to a dairy to get the evening's supply of milk. ethel blue helped unpack the food supplies that had come over in the launch. when everything was out of the boat and it was chug-chugging away from the shore the campers felt that now they were really cut off from home even if they were not on a desert island. not one of the girls ever had eaten a supper that tasted so good as that prepared in the open air and eaten with appetites sharpened by the exercise of preparation. dorothy and three of her companions of the cooking class volunteered to prepare the main dishes, while ethel blue, who had become expert in the water, assisted the swimming teacher to give a lesson to a few girls who had arrived only a week before. at a suitable time after the lesson was over every girl was directed to cut a forked stick from a near-by hedge. then they gathered about the fire and each one cooked her own bacon on the end of the fork. sometimes the flames leaped up and caught the savory bit, and then there was a scream at the tragedy. a huge broiler propped against a stick driven into the ground held a chicken whose skin turned a delicate brown in response to the warmth of the blaze. potatoes in their jackets and ears of corn in their husks were buried in the ashes with heated stones piled over them so that they should be roasted through evenly. the elders made coffee by the primitive method of boiling it in a saucepan and clearing it with a dash of cold water, and they maintained that no coffee with a percolator experience ever tasted better. none of the girls drank coffee at night, but they all praised the delicious milk that they had brought from the dairy, and started a rivalry of enthusiasm. when everything was made tidy after supper the fire was heightened to a roaring blaze and the girls sat around it cross-legged and told stories. "br'er rabbit" and the "tar baby" seemed just in the shadows beyond the flames and if you listened hard you could hear the hiss of the water as an indian canoe slipped down the lake in pursuit of brule or la salle. a folk dance in the firelight ended the evening's amusement. bedtime brought an orderly arrangement of the sleeping equipment and a quick going to sleep, for the girls were tired enough to have fatigue overcome the strangeness of their surroundings. the ethels, dorothy, and della were together. it was at that end of the night when darkness is just giving way to the dim light that comes before the rosiness of the dawn, that dorothy was roused by heavy breathing outside the tent. a chill of fear stiffened her. in the space of an eyeflash her mind went back many years to a faraway land where she had been roused in just this way by heavy breathing outside her window. then there had been a low call and her father had come into her room and exchanging a word or two over her bed with the man beneath the window, had gone out doors. almost before she realized that he had gone there was the snap of a revolver and a sharp cry of agony and her mother had shrieked and rushed out, leaving her alone. she was wide awake then and she lay in her narrow bed shivering and wondering. her mother came back weeping, and little yellow men had brought in her father's limp body and he had lain on the bed for two days, not opening his eyes, not stirring, until men came once more and carried him away, and she never saw him again. she had almost outgrown the nightmare that attacked her every once in a while after her father's death, but the memory of the whole happening came back to her now with the sound of the heavy breathing. the suspense was more than she could endure. she reached over and touched ethel blue's hand. ethel blue roused and was about to ask what was the matter when dorothy, scarcely visible in the dim light, made a sign for silence. both girls sat up in their cots and listened. nearer and nearer came the sound. it seemed too heavy for a man's breathing,--yet--they had been talking about indians before they went to bed--perhaps indians breathed more heavily than white men. no man would come at such an hour with a good purpose--perhaps bad men breathed more heavily than good men. ethel blue clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. dorothy crawled down into the bed and drew the cover over her head. at that instant a roar boomed through the tent. every girl sat up in her bed with a sharp, "what's that?" there were stirrings in the other tents; but the roar came again right there beside ethel blue's cot, and so near that it seemed in her very face. "it's something awful!" she thought, chilled with fright; and then, "i won't let my imagination run away with me. it may not be as bad as it sounds. if it does hurt me i can bear it!" slowly she pushed back her blanket and looked down whence the clamor had come. the roar was followed by a tearing sound and a noise of struggle. "oh, girls," cried ethel blue, "it's a cow! it's nothing but a cow! poor old thing, she's caught her horns under the edge of the tent and she can't get loose." dorothy's head came out from its covering. "a cow!" she breathed with relief and sank back, weak but thankful. "she's going to pull the tent down!" screamed della. "can't you shoo her out, ethel blue?" asked ethel brown. "you're nearest." ethel blue was well aware that she was nearest. she was startlingly near. but the cow seemed to want to withdraw quite as much as the girls wanted her to, and that encouraged ethel blue to help her. leaning out of her cot she lifted the edge of the tent as far as she could with one hand and with her slipper in the other slapped the cow on her forehead as a hint that backwards was her next best move. with a gasp of disgust the invader departed and the girls heard miss roberts, who had been aroused from her tent, driving her away. in fact, everybody was wide awake by this time. "let's get up," suggested della. "i've never seen the sun rise and this is a good chance." evidently the girls in the other tents were holding a caucus to the same effect and there shortly appeared a shivering group of campers. ethel brown was the only one who seemed not to think the happening good fun, but she was ashamed to seem cross when everybody else was in good humor, and when miss roberts set her to work on the breakfast preparations she soon forgot that she had not made a brave showing before the marauder. dorothy was pale but gave no other sign of having been especially disturbed. after breakfast came the packing up and setting of the camp in order and then two of the girls who had been studying signalling, wig-wagged across the lake for the launch to come for them. "since we've made such an early start we might as well go back early," decided miss roberts, "because to-night is the exhibition of the school of physical education, you remember, and those of you who are in it will be glad of the extra time for rehearsing." the girls left with the feeling that they had had almost as memorable a time as if the camp had been attacked by indians. now that it was over they were glad the cow had happened in. ethel blue had a real glow when she recalled that although she had been badly scared she had pulled herself together and really driven the cow away, and dorothy felt that since her nightmare had once had so laughable an ending perhaps it would not come again. because of their early rising all the girls took a nap in the afternoon. "you want to put spirit into your folk dances to-night," mrs. morton replied to the ethels' remonstrances against this hardship. "i want my girls to move with life and not as if they were half asleep." "sleep now and you won't sleep then," added helen, who was taking the last stitches on a pierrot dress which ethel blue was to wear. the seats in the pit of the amphitheatre were all removed so that the audience was crowded into the benches on the sloping sides. the parents of the boys and girls who were to take part were present in force and the members of the boys' club and girls' club who were not to take part sat together in solid blocks at the front. a grand procession of all the participants opened the program. "there's roger," cried his grandmother. "tom watkins is with him and james is just behind," grandfather emerson informed his wife after looking through his glass. "some one of those funny pierrots is ethel blue, but you can't distinguish her." "she is to march with dorothy, and ethel brown and della are to be together in the butterfly dance." "and helen?" "she is in one of the folk dances. she must be in this division wearing gymnasium suits." "or in the next one; that first detachment looked to me as if it was made up of teachers of gymnastics who are taking a normal course here." the program continued with a set of exercises by the smallest members of the boys' club who executed a flag drill with precision and general success, although dicky wandered from the fold when cupid watkins trotted his bowlegged way on to the stage looking for some member of his human family. nevertheless, dicky won the applause of the audience by seizing cupid in his arms and planting a kiss on the cross-piece of his muzzle before leading him off on his search. the butterfly dance was charming, the little girls waving in exact time to the music the filmy wings that hung from shoulder and wrist. mrs. morton never succeeded in making out ethel brown and della but the whole effect was delicately graceful. ethel blue and dorothy were equally indistinguishable among the pierrots who stamped and whirled and stretched arms and legs with funny rapid motions. ethel brown had a part in a dance in which rubber balls were bounced in time with a difficult series of steps. helen and margaret and tom watkins were in one of the folk dances, and roger and james, with some other large boys and young men, illustrated various wrestling holds in a fashion both graceful and exact. on the whole, the audience seemed to think the program was well worth their commendation. into this busy week was crowded yet one more event of especial interest to the morton household and its friends--the annual circus of the athletic club. roger had been playing baseball on the second team all summer and this team was asked to take part in a burlesque game which was to be one of the numbers on the program. there had been much practicing in private and roger had come home one day with a black eye which seemed to promise that when he made his slide for base in the show it would be a spectacular performance. the baseball teams, absurdly dressed, and taking dicky and cupid with them for mascots, had a float to themselves in the procession that wound about the grounds in the early part of the afternoon. the superintendent of grounds and buildings led the way in his buggy and behind him came a detachment of chautauqua police, one man strong. the special features were led by another buggy, this one drawn by a mule wearing a pair of overalls on his front legs. a pretty pink and white float was filled with small children from the elementary school; another was laden with a host of girls' club members in the pierrot costume of the exhibition dance. ethel blue and ethel brown were among them, ethel brown wearing della's dress because della preferred to ride with dorothy on the float with the model cooking class. james hancock was in the baseball team with roger but tom watkins provided the legs for one of the herd of three ostriches which walked with dignity behind the floats. the line ended with a flock of bicycles all aflutter with ribbons and pennants. the performance was on the baseball field and it began as soon as the parade arrived and the trousered mule was securely tied. small boys laden with popcorn and ice cream cones went through the grandstand with their wares, a policeman wearing a badge of giant size kept order, and a solemn-faced announcer presented the numbers of the program. there were several comic dances, some funny songs, a contortionist who twisted himself into such knots that the announcer expressed doubts as to whether he would ever straighten out enough to leave chautauqua when the season was ended, a snappy banjo quartet, excellent horizontal bar work, and roger's baseball team. the baseball team took the prize awarded by the men's club for the best exhibit. the _daily_ of the next morning described their playing as "distinctly original," and mentioned especially the superb slide to base made by roger morton, who, as short-stop, picked balls out of the sky with no apparent difficulty. it was when the mortons reached home, aching with laughter at the jokes which the clown pretended to get off and didn't, that they were surprised to find awaiting them a telegram from captain morton, ethel blue's father. "leaving vera cruz to-day," it read. "reach chautauqua next thursday. love." chapter xix "my brave little girl!" the mortons had been talking all summer about having a family picnic, but there had been so many things to do every day for every one of the household that there never had seemed to be any opportunity. now, however, all the chief events of the season were out of the way and once more their thoughts turned to a day out of the grounds. "let's go to barcelona," suggested roger a day or two after the circus. "what's barcelona?" questioned ethel brown. "don't you remember grandmother told us about the fishing village on lake erie when we were coming over on the trolley?" "helen remembers that because there is some history about it," laughed ethel. "i know she'll vote for barcelona." "i would--i'm crazy to see it--only it seems as if we ought to wait for uncle richard to come so that he can go with us." ethel blue's eyes beamed affectionately at her cousin. "he would like it, wouldn't he?" she said, smiling back. "let's go to panama rocks, instead," suggested ethel brown. "what are panama rocks?" inquired mrs. morton. "the strangest collection of rocks you ever saw, all jumbled together and cleft into miniature canyons. they're about ten miles from here." "oh, daddy would _love_ to see those," cried ethel blue so anxiously that no one could help laughing. "don't be worried, my dear. we'll save all the very nicest picnics for your father," decided mr. emerson. "we'll just go across the lake. there's a place over there where we can make a fire without getting into trouble, and we can have a hot luncheon and take a swim and have a good time even if we aren't out of sight of the miller bell tower." ethel blue's face brightened. "how do we get there?" she asked. "by motor boat." "then can't we trail a rowboat so roger can give me a lesson in rowing? i shall be ashamed to tell daddy that i haven't learned all summer." "good work," cried roger. "i'll hitch a light one on behind and i'll guarantee that before you come back you'll know all you need to to pull it. you won't need anything afterwards except practice." "and perhaps a little cold cream," commented helen drily. it was the following wednesday before a time could be found that would interfere with no one's plans. on that morning the entire morton-emerson family, including mary, boarded the launch, engineered by jo sampson, whose employers, the springers, had been called home before the season ended. it did not take long to speed across to the other side of the lake and the party was soon near enough to the shore to recognize objects at which they had been looking all summer from a distance. "those trees aren't near the farmhouse at all! i thought they were right side of it!" "the trees in the orchard are full grown. they seem like mere babies from the other shore!" "and the barn is a long way from the house! well, well!" it was a glorious day with a breeze that made it no burden to carry the baskets up the slope to the shelter where the materials for making a fire were awaiting them. jo and roger arranged everything in places convenient for the cooks and then jo went to the farmhouse to see if he could find fresh butter and sweet apples. grandfather and grandmother strolled off on a botanizing trip; mary, who was to have a holiday from any kitchen duties, wandered into the woods with helen and dicky. "here's a good opportunity for you to give the ethels their rowing lesson, roger," suggested mrs. morton. "teach them the main points before luncheon and perhaps they can do a little practicing in the afternoon." "but you'll be all alone here," objected roger. "i shall be glad to be quiet here for a while. it won't be for long; some one is sure to come back in a few minutes." so roger and the girls went to the water's edge and the girls stood on the narrow beach while roger untied the rowboat from the stern of the motor-boat and ran it up on the shore. "you must learn to get in without being helped," he insisted, "because you'll have to do it lots of times when there isn't any one around to give you a hand. the unbreakable rule is, _step in the middle of the boat_. if you step on the side you're going to tip it and then you'll have a picnic sure enough and perhaps two drowned pic-a-_ninnies_." "pic-a-nothing!" retorted ethel brown. "we don't care if we do upset. we can swim." "clothes and shoes and all? i wouldn't risk it just yet if i were you. now, then, right in the middle. that's it. ethel brown on the seat nearest the stern and ethel blue on the other." roger pushed off with a mighty shove and crept carefully down the boat, steadying himself by a hand on each girl's shoulder as he passed. he seated himself in the stern. "which way are you going, goose?" he inquired fraternally of ethel brown. "sit facing me. it's a funny thing a sailor's daughter doesn't know that." "now, roger, if you're going to tease i'll get some one else to teach me." "i won't tease you. don't stand up to turn around; when you make a mistake like that, squirm around on your seat. always keep as nearly as possible in the center of the boat. what you want to remember is never to give the boat a chance to tip." "there are only two oars here." "one oar apiece is enough to begin with. put yours out on the left side of the boat, looking forward, ethel brown. that's the port side. look out!" for ethel brown thrust out her oar with a circular sweep that would have given roger a smart blow on the ear if he had not ducked with great agility. "put yours out on the starboard side, ethel blue," he went on when he recovered himself. "that's the right hand side as you face the direction you are going. secretary daniels has changed 'port' and 'starboard' in the navy to 'left' and 'right,' but you might as well learn the old terms." "starboard, right; port, left; starboard, right; port, left," repeated the ethels in chorus, as ethel blue brought her oar into place by raising it straight in the air, a movement which brought a "good" from roger. "ethel brown is stroke." "why is she?" demanded ethel blue. "because she happens to sit nearest the stern where all the other oarsmen--meaning you--can see her. the stroke oar sets the stroke for the other rowers." "when i go fast you must go fast, ethel blue." "you can't go too fast for me," returned ethel blue smartly. "have i got a name?" "you're the bow oar. now, then, ladies, pay attention to me. do you see that piece of wood fitting in notches nailed across the floor of the boat? that is called a stretcher and you brace your feet against it." "perhaps you can, but i can hardly reach it with my toes." "move it up to the closest notch, then. that's the idea. now put one hand on the handle of your oar and the other hand a few inches away from it on the thick part." "so?" "so. you're ready now to begin to row. push your arms forward as far as they will go and let your body go forward, too. that gives you a longer reach and a purchase on the pull back, you see. bear down a little on the oar, enough to raise it just above the water. when you get the hang of this you can learn how to turn the blade flat so as not to catch the wind or choppy waves. that's called 'feathering'; but we won't try that now." "when i push the handle of my oar forward the blade goes backward," said ethel blue. "correct! observant young woman! when you've pushed it as far as you can, let it go into the water just enough to cover it--no, don't plunge it way in, ethel blue! don't you see you can't pull it if you have such a mass of water resisting you? get your oar under water, ethel brown. if you don't catch the water at all you 'catch a crab'--just so," he chuckled as ethel brown gave her oar a vigorous pull through empty air and fell backward off the seat. "hurt yourself, old girl? here, grab root," and he extended a helping hand. "get these few motions right and you have the whole groundwork of rowing," went on roger. "forward, dip, pull, lift; forward, dip, pull, lift; forward, dip, pull, lift. keep that up and you have the thing done. one, two, three, four; one, two, three, four." the new crew pulled vigorously for some distance until roger commanded a rest. "pull your oar in way across the boat and push it down until the handle catches in the ribs of the opposite side," he directed, "or turn the blade toward the bow and run the handle under the seat before you. then it won't slip out of the rowlock and sail off, leaving you to wait until somebody happens along to pick you up. you might have to wait some time." "how are we going to turn round?" ethel brown asked when they were rested. "pull one oar and the boat will turn away from the side of that oar. you pull, ethel blue. see it turn?" "it's mighty slow work," puffed ethel blue. "and a huge big circle you're making," laughed roger. "ethel brown can help you by backing water." "how do i do that?" "it's the exact opposite of regular pulling. that is, dip your oar into the water first and then push your arms and body forward. do you see? that makes the boat go stern first instead of bow first. here's your count; dip, push, lift, pull; dip, push, lift, pull." the two girls tried it together and the boat soon was going backward as fast as they had previously made it go forward. "now we'll try this turning around business again," directed roger. "ethel blue will row the regular way; that will turn the boat in a wide circle as we saw. ethel brown will back water at the same time. that will make the boat turn a much smaller circle, and in a minute we'll lay our course for the shore. ready? one, two, three, four; one, two, three, four. now stop backing water, ethel brown, and row ahead. one, two, three, four," counted roger patiently until the bow grated on the pebbles. "that's enough for to-day," he decided. "you mustn't get so tired out that you won't want to have another go at it to-morrow. remember, step in the middle of the boat and way out over the side. there you are," and he walked away toward the grove of trees where he had left his mother, whistling loudly and followed by the ethels' cheerful "thank you." "it makes you hungry," commented ethel brown. "i believe i'll go and see if there are any signs of luncheon." "i'll be there in a little while. i think i'll rest under that tree over there for a few minutes." ethel blue was more tired than she realized, and, when she had made herself comfortable, curled up under an oak that was separated from the landing by a narrow point of land and some tall sedges, she fell sound asleep. it was perhaps half an hour later that she roused sharply at some sound that pierced her dreams. as she came to herself another scream brought her to her feet. "dicky!" she gasped. "where?" she ran toward the landing, but there was no sign of him. the sound had seemed nearer to her tree she thought as she dashed back to her napping spot, but she had been so sleepy that she could not tell whether it came from the bushes behind her or from the beach. the beach? the water? was dicky in the water? she flew to the water's edge and strained out over the tiny waves that lapped gently in from a steamer that had gone down the lake five minutes before. there it was again--that scream. and there was dicky's yellow head bobbing up for an instant and there was his hand thrown into the air. in a second ethel had slipped off her skirt and her shoes and was running into the water in her bloomers. it could not be very deep where dicky was, just beyond the tip of the point. the sedge grass must have thrown him down when he started to wade. how it happened flashed into ethel's mind as clearly as if she had seen it and all the time she was wading out as fast as she could go. even now it was only a trifle above her knees; if dicky could only get his footing he would be all right--and as she thought it, her own feet slipped from under her and she fell down a steep under-water bank sloping sharply away from the point. this was the reason then. but though startled she was cool and fell at once into an easy swimming stroke. her middy blouse hampered her but not seriously. it needed only a few strokes to reach the eddy made by dicky's struggle. she could see him clearly and she seized him by the back of his rompers. he made no resistance, poor little man. all the struggle had gone out of him when she lifted him to the surface. the point was nearer than the beach and a few strokes brought her to it with her limp burden. the child was a slender little chap but he was a heavy armful for a girl of thirteen and ethel tugged herself out of breath before she brought him high up on dry land. "what was the first thing roger said?" she asked herself, and instantly remembered that she must turn dicky on to his face to let the water run out of his throat. she bent his limp arm under his forehead and then left him for a second while she ran for her skirt to roll up under his chest. as she ran she tried to scream, but only a faint squeak came from her lips. as she flew back she rolled the skirt into a bundle. the child still showed no signs of breathing and she copied roger's next move on that long ago day when she had been his subject. thrusting the roll under dicky's chest to raise his body from the ground and then kneeling beside him she pulled him on to his side and then let him fall forward again on to his face, counting "one, two, three, four," slowly for each motion. her arms ached cruelly as she tugged and tugged again at dicky's little rolling body. wouldn't anybody ever come? over and over she tried to scream, but she had only breath enough to keep on pulling. she was counting "one, two, three, four," silently now. at last, at last, came a flicker of dicky's eyelid and a whimper from his mouth. ethel worked on harder and harder. dicky grew heavier and heavier, but she saw dimly through her own half-shut eyes that he was opening his and that his face was puckering for one of the yells that only dicky morton could give. "you let me alone, ethel blue," he whispered savagely, and then she lost sight of the water and the sedge grass and her weary arms fell at her sides. when she opened her eyes again she found a heavy coat thrown around her and a face that she had not seen for a very long time, smiling down into hers--a face that she never forgot, the face that flashed before her every night when she said her prayers. "my little girl!" captain morton was saying soothingly as he rocked her in his arms; "my brave little girl!" his _brave_ little girl! "dicky?" ethel murmured, looking up at her father. "he's all right, dear. aunt marion has taken him to the fire." then ethel leaned her face against her father's shoulder and lay without stirring, utterly content. chapter xx following a clue when jo sampson came running with a glass of hot milk and her aunt marion's instructions that ethel blue was to drink it at once, he said that he was preparing the launch for an immediate return across the lake. it was after they were packed into the boat and ethel brown had squeezed the water out of ethel blue's bloomers, that she shrugged herself comfortably into her father's coat and propped herself against his shoulder and asked if anybody knew how it happened. nobody did, it seemed. dicky had gone to walk with helen and mary and when they came back and began to busy themselves about the luncheon he had slipped away. it was not until captain morton, who had reached chautauqua a day earlier than he expected, and had followed them across in another launch, suddenly arrived and asked for ethel blue that they noticed that both ethel blue and dicky were missing. the first point of search was the neighborhood of the rowboat where ethel brown had left her, and they must have come upon her only an instant after she had collapsed, for dicky complained tearfully that "the hurted me and then the tumbled down." ethel blue was the heroine of the day and not even her father was prouder of her than ethel brown, who patted her and praised her without stint. so great was the disturbance created at home by dicky's experience which necessitated the calling of a doctor to make sure that he and ethel blue were getting on safely, and so frequent were the runnings up and down stairs with hot water and hot cloths and hot drinks and dry clothes that it was nightfall before mrs. morton had a chance to ask her brother-in-law how it happened that he had a furlough just at that time. ethel blue had begged not to be sent to bed and she was lying in the hammock, wrapped in a blanket and holding her father's hand as if she were trying to keep him always beside her. the rest of the family had gone to bed or to the amphitheatre. "is my namesake asleep?" inquired captain morton. "then sit down and let me tell you why i am here. i asked for leave because something had happened that made me think that we might perhaps be able to find sister louise again." "oh, richard! after all these years! have you really a clue?" "it seems to me a very good one. i was doing some inspection work at the time general funston cleaned up vera cruz. it necessitated my going into a great many of the mexican houses. in one of them--a rather small house in a shabby street--i saw on the wall looking down on me a picture of my sister." "of louise! how could it have come there?" "i was amazed. i stared at the thing with my mouth open. but i could not be mistaken; it was a photograph of her that i was familiar with, taken before she was married." "could you make the proprietor of the house understand that you knew her?" "oh, yes; i've picked up enough spanish to get on pretty well now. the man said that the original of the picture, doña louisa, had boarded with them several years ago. it took a lot of calculation to remember how long ago, but he finally concluded that it was the year before his third son broke his leg, and that was in , as far as i could make out." "eight years ago that she was there. how extraordinary! what became of her?" "the story is a tragedy. louise's husband--don leonardo, the mexican called him--was a musician, as you know. that was the chief reason for father's disliking him. it seems that he had wandered to vera cruz with the orchestra of a theatrical company that stranded there. he was in sore straits pretty often. 'the little girl used to cry from hunger,' my man said." "poor little thing!" "it was the first i knew of there being a child. the father finally got work in the orchestra of a small theatre and managed to make a few _pesos_ a week. that seems to have relieved the situation somewhat, but it also brought on leonard the anger of some of the other musicians in town who had wanted the 'job' that he had secured." "he probably needed it more than they." "but he was a 'gringo' and they hated him. and"--with a glance toward ethel blue, swinging gently in the darkness, "and he died suddenly." "oh, poor louise!" exclaimed mrs. morton, and "poor little girl!" exclaimed ethel. "somehow or other louise managed to scrape together money enough to take the child back to the states, but there was business to be attended to and she left a permanent address with the señor who had looked after some legal matters for her in vera cruz." "did you find him? did he tell you the address?" "i found him, and when he understood why i wanted to know he gave me the name of the chicago lawyer whom she would always keep informed of her whereabouts." "so you got a furlough and you're on your way to chicago now?" "i've been to chicago." "and the man knew? did he tell you?" "he knew. he told me. where do you suppose she is?" "i haven't the remotest idea, richard." "at chautauqua." "at chautauqua!" repeated mrs. morton in a stupefied tone. "here!" cried ethel blue, amazed. "her address is here until september first. i hustled right on here, as you may imagine, to catch her before she left. now the question is, how do you find out where people are on these grounds?" "there is a registration office where everybody is supposed to register. of course not every one does, but that is the first place to apply. we'll go there early in the morning." "of course you come upon hundreds of smiths everywhere, but in a place of this size they may be present in scores instead of hundreds. have you met any?" "two or three. there is a mrs. smith in my c. l. s. c. class, and there is one who has a cottage near the hall of philosophy, and there's mother's embroidery teacher at the art store--she's a mrs. smith." "do you know the first names of any of them?" "i don't. do you know dorothy's mother's name, ethel?" "i don't know, aunt marion. i'll ask her to-morrow." "we'll hunt every smith to his lair," said the captain seriously; "and your lair is where you ought to be at this minute, young woman. kiss me 'good night.'" the next morning immediately after breakfast, mrs. morton and her brother-in-law started off on their quest of the chautauqua smiths. both ethels were eager to go too, but the elders thought that the fewer people there were about when the meeting took place the less embarrassing it would be for their aunt louise. "if you really do find her here," exclaimed helen, "roger will have to acknowledge that there is some romance left in the world." mrs. smith had not reached the art store when captain and mrs. morton stopped there on their way up the hill, so they went on to the registration office and looked through the cards in the catalogue. "here are smiths from every state in the union, i should say. warren, ohio; san francisco, california; boston, massachusetts; galena, illinois; wichita, kansas; bartow, florida--" "you can't tell anything from those home addresses, for to tell you the truth, i was so excited at getting this chautauqua address from the chicago man that i forgot to ask him where she had been before." "let's try the first names, then. we want l's, whether we're looking for 'louise' or 'leonard.'" "here's 'lucy,' 'laura,' 'lester,' and one, two, three with just 'l.'" "those will be the ones for us to try first i'll copy their chautauqua addresses," and captain morton drew out a notebook with a hand that trembled. in spite of the number being so reduced, the search was disappointing. one mrs. l. smith lived near the college and proved to be a young woman with a black-eyed baby who demanded her attention imperatively when her callers asked about her acquaintances among the other smiths of the place. a second mrs. l. smith lived near the fence back of alumni hall and was as much too old as the first mrs. smith was too young. the third mrs. l. smith was just enough a matter of doubt to captain morton for him to begin his interview diplomatically. "have you ever been in mexico?" he asked. "yes," she answered promptly, though evidently surprised. "about how long ago?" ventured the captain. "it's nearly twenty years now. i was about twenty at the time." the mortons excused themselves and continued on their rounds. "it's a rather doubtful experiment hunting up a person of middle age whom you haven't seen since she was a young woman. with all respect to the lady we just interviewed i'm glad she proves to be not my sister. but i can depend on your affection, marion, to meet louise with love no matter what sort of person she proves to be." "you may, indeed. and i know she'll call out all my love. in the first place she's the sister of the best possible husband and the finest sort of brother-in-law, and in the next place she deserves love for the sake of the hardships she has been through." "i saw brother roger for an hour just before i left vera cruz and he said that i could depend on you to be just as true to _his_ as you were to _him_." as they passed along the streets they stopped at two or three houses where mrs. morton remembered that she had met smiths or where she could make inquiries about smiths, but every call was fruitless. "i believe we shall have to start a house to house search after dinner. helen and roger can help." "we might stop here at the art store again as we pass," suggested mrs. morton. just at that moment dorothy's mother came down the steps of the arcade. she nodded pleasantly to mrs. morton, and then glanced at her companion. "richard!" she gasped. "oh, richard!" "louise! is it louise? your hair! it's white!" mrs. morton slipped an arm around mrs. smith's waist and drew her across the lawn to the shelter of the cottage. "i'm so thankful it's _you_!" she exclaimed with a smile that relieved the tension of the meeting. "i like you so much better than any of the other mrs. smiths we have met this morning!" "i guessed, of course, from your boys' names, that you were my brother's wife," said the newly found sister, sinking into a chair; "but the children said there was no chance of their father or their uncle coming north this summer, and you never had seen me, so i took the risk of staying on until the first of september when my engagement at the art store ends." "why didn't you tell me, louise? it would have been such a happiness to me--to the children--to know. we've been defrauded of nearly two months' joy." "i shall be going in a week or ten days more," stammered mrs. smith, looking at her brother. "you can tell me your plans later," he answered, "but don't look at me as if i were driving you. why, i came up here from vera cruz to find you and for no other purpose." "you found a clue there?" the slender woman seemed to shrink into her chair, her high-piled white hair shining against its red back and her eyes gleaming with tears. he told her how he had come upon her picture. "did the mexican tell you that my husband was shot there? my little dorothy wakes even now in the night and thinks she hears voices whispering in the _patio_ under her window, voices of the men that called her father out to his death." "we can all help make her happy enough to forget the hard days--and you, too, dear louise." mrs. morton threw her arms around her sister as the ethels and dorothy came rushing into the room from their morning on the bathing beach. "children, there's good news. dorothy is your very own cousin." "our cousin?" "really our cousin?" "grandfather emerson always said our noses were alike." "nothing so good ever happened to us," and the ethels seized dorothy and the three went through the steps of the butterfly dance with joyous smiles that reassured dorothy's mother as to her child's welcome into the family. "i'm so glad it's _you_ who are the aunt louise we've wanted to know all our lives," cried helen softly, kissing her aunt. roger shook hands with her gravely, feeling himself the representative of his father on an occasion of such family importance. the ethels rushed on to the porch when they heard dicky coming up the steps. "dicky, dicky, we've got a new aunt! come in and see her." dicky went slowly into the room for purposes of inspection. "_that_ ain't a new aunt," he exclaimed; "that'th jutht my fire lady," and he curled up like a kitten in his aunt louise's lap. chapter xxi "who are we?" mrs. smith and dorothy stayed to dinner with the mortons and after dinner the younger members of the family party went to the beach in front of the cottage while the elders were talking in the house. roger rolled up to the group cartwheel fashion as they gathered about the stone on which their new cousin was sitting. "it's the most wonderful event that ever happened to the mortons," he ejaculated breathlessly. "i suppose aunt louise is telling them in the house everything that has happened to her since before all of us were born, so perhaps you'll tell us all the happy happenings that have happened to you." dorothy flushed and helen, who guessed that the happenings of her aunt's and cousin's lives had not been very happy, hastened to interpose. "what we want to know even more," she said tactfully, "is what aunt louise and you are going to do now. wouldn't it be just _grand_ if you could live in rosemont!" dorothy's face kindled. "it would be for me," she agreed. "i've never been where there was any one belonging to me, and--well, that would be a 'happy ending'!" "where was aunt louise planning to go for the winter?" "i don't know that she had any plans. she hadn't the last time we talked about it, but that was a long time ago--way back at the time of the fire." "why can't you both go home with us? we're going in a day or two, you know." "mother's engagement at the art store doesn't end until the first of september. she wouldn't leave them in the lurch." "no, it wouldn't be right," murmured helen; "but i want her to rest just as soon as she can." "she is tired," assented dorothy, thinking as she answered how much more tired her mother was than any of the morton cousins could understand. the wear of constant anxiety about bread and butter and shelter is something beyond the understanding of those who have not experienced it. it had made dorothy older than her years and had turned her mother's hair snow-white at forty-two. "if only you live in rosemont," said ethel brown, "we can go to school together. ethel blue and i have been almost like twins. if you are with us all the time we'll be triplets." "oh!" cried dorothy, clasping her hands. "do you suppose they'll tell us what they've decided?" asked ethel blue anxiously. "father will suggest something perfectly fine--he always does--and it will be like the end of a fairy story. you're sure you'd like to live with us?" she questioned anxiously. helen gave ethel blue a touch to attract her attention, for dorothy was almost crying. ethel blue threw her arm around her and gave her a hug. at that minute captain morton's voice was heard calling dorothy from the house. she jumped up and ran in. when she came back a few minutes later she was radiant. "it's all arranged," she cried excitedly. "some money has turned up from somewhere--a lot of it--that belongs to mother, so we can live wherever we want to, and of course we'd rather live near you people than anywhere else in the world." "all i've got to say," said ethel brown, "is that this is the finest sort of ending to the finest sort of summer. just think of all the new things we've seen and done since we came up here, but i think the best of all has been starting the club, because that's going to last." "i believe we're going to have more fun out of that than out of anything we ever tried," said helen. "i know it; i feel it in my bones," cried ethel blue, "and now that dorothy is going to help us with it all winter we'll just make things hum in rosemont." throwing their arms across each other's shoulders, the whole group of them marched along the beach--one, two, three, back; one, two, three, back--chanting in unison "who are we? who are we? we are members of the u. s. c." * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors repaired. sometimes c.s.l.c. was printed with spaces between the letters and sometimes not. this was retained. page , "loked" changed to "looked" (helen looked at her with) page , "sichlike" changed to "suchlike" (and suchlike foreign) page , "yong" changed to "young" (young man's calm air) three hundred things a bright boy can do by many hands fully illustrated london sampson low, marston & co., ltd. contents chapter page i. in training ii. how to become a gymnast iii. walking, running, and jumping iv. hockey and indian clubs v. swimming, rowing, and water polo vi. paperchasing, football, golf, and boxing vii. on the ice viii. angling ix. canoes and yachts x. cooking in camp xi. butterflies and moths xii. hints on aquariums xiii. in the playing fields xiv. the garden xv. the boy as artist xvi. ventriloquism and polyphony xvii. the boy as magician xviii. pets xix. things boys can make xx. fireside amusements xxi. work and play at the bench xxii. science for the play-hour xxiii. home-made toys xxiv. concerning many things preface the editor hopes that this volume will be the means of inspiring boys to adopt some hobby and to follow it diligently. at any rate he has arranged that they shall be able to have a wide choice of occupations, and shall begin with expert assistance. too many youths fall into mere aimless dawdling, and waste the golden years of their life loafing about smoking cigarettes, watching others play, chattering endlessly about games, but never engaging in them. though this book is written for the boy's play hour, it will not be without value in aiding him upon the sterner side of his career, if it shows him how to train hand and eye, how to strengthen his will and muscles, and if it inculcates patience, exactitude, and perseverance. three hundred things a bright boy can do chapter i in training there are few things about which so many mistaken notions exist as about training. there are several reasons for this, but most of the erroneous ideas may be traced back to the days when professional pugilists and runners were the only men who ever entered on any athletic exercise with any sort of organised preparation. for them a severe course of training was possibly a necessity. they were for the most part men well advanced in years and naturally fleshy; and to achieve the feats which they accomplished they no doubt found it necessary to reduce their weight, and for this purpose to take a great deal of exercise and to avoid all food tending to the formation of flesh; but for the average school-boy who plays football or fives, or goes paper-chasing, or, in fact, takes the ordinary amount of boy's exercise, training, as it is generally misunderstood, is quite unnecessary, even if not harmful. he has no superfluous fat of which to rid himself, so any sweating which he may do only weakens him and renders him liable to cold. his lungs are in proper order and therefore his wind is good, and so there is no need for him to deprive himself of vegetables or his favourite pies or puddings. all he wants is to lead a healthy active life, and to do a fair amount of practice in the particular branch of athletics in which he hopes to excel. if a boy be accustomed to walk to and from school, or even a part of the way, or to take his place regularly in the school games, he will already be in proper condition of wind and limb. he will now only require to develop the muscles which, in his contests, he will find it most necessary to use. these vary in nearly every branch of athletics; so his practice must be specially directed to the races or events in which he intends to take part. now this practice is often as much overdone as in the old days the dieting and sweating used to be. i remember that when i was at school and training for a mile race, i was seldom content unless i had run two or three miles each day. since then i have found out the error of my ways. the result of my long practice run was that when the day came for the sports i was much over-trained, and in the state usually described as "stale." i could have pounded along for miles, but i was as slow as the proverbial cart-horse, and when it came to hard racing i was beaten by boys who had practised less persistently than i had, and whose limbs and muscles were therefore lissom and pliant. the exact amount of practice required depends a good deal on the stamina and build of each particular boy. big, muscular boys can undergo far more work than lightly-strung ones of less robust constitution; but it may be taken for granted as a general rule that it is better to do too little than too much. practice should never be continued after one begins to feel tired; and if one is still feeling the effects of the previous day's practice, it is always a good thing to rest for a day from active work, and instead to take a good sharp walk of four or five miles. when your muscles are stiff, as they are bound to be at the beginning, never force them. get them gradually into working order, and never hesitate to rest entirely if you feel disinclined for exercise. rest, in moderation, is always good, and for this reason i advise boys of all ages who may be training, to make a point of going to bed early. to get up early is another aid to leading a healthy life, but i would especially warn my readers against taking any violent exercise before breakfast. have your bath, followed by a brisk rub down with a rough towel; dress quickly, and then, if you like and can manage it, go out into the open air for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes. put on plenty of clothes, and eat either a biscuit or a piece of bread and walk quietly about, breathing freely. in the same way never do any practising immediately after a heavy meal. an interval of at least two hours should elapse to allow of the digestion of food. remember that your one object in training is not to force your powers, but to so increase and nurse them, that when the day for the sports comes you will be able to do your very best without fear of hurting or over-straining yourself. before entering for his school sports a boy must realise the important fact that it is given only to a few to excel at everything. the majority must be content to discover the branch of sport for which, by their natural abilities, they are most suited, and then to practise quietly and persistently so as to gain the best possible results. school games and odd trials of skill will probably give the aspiring athlete some idea of the direction in which he is better than, or as good as, his fellows. in running races it is generally found that the heavily and powerfully-built boy is best suited by short-distance races, that is from a hundred yards to a quarter of a mile; but a long, loosely-knit lad usually excels at distances from half a mile to a mile. a short, sturdy boy, as a rule, develops into a long-distance runner, but as events above a mile are generally excluded, and very wisely too from the programmes of school sports, he has very little chance of distinguishing himself until later years, when his frame is set, and his heart and lungs are in a fit condition to withstand the strain caused by prolonged contests. the prime object of the boy who desires to train for short-distance running should be to improve his speed. with this purpose in view, he should practise running from thirty to fifty yards at a time--running hard from the very beginning, and going at his fastest possible pace the whole of the way. he should do this three or four times each day, occasionally--that is, once or twice a week--running the full hundred yards. races of two hundred yards and a quarter of a mile in length may be prepared for in just the same way, except that for the latter, a practice-run should seldom exceed three hundred and fifty yards. a quarter of a mile is a very fatiguing distance, and although it may be run in practice at a moderate speed, it should not be taken at racing pace, except in an actual race. in the intervals of training it is a good plan to obtain the assistance of a friend, and practise starting. in a short race so much depends on the start, that one who is able to go right away directly the signal is given possesses a great advantage. [illustration: "he should jump cleanly."] the boy who intends to take part in the half-mile and mile races must pursue a somewhat different method, but he also must make a point of practising for speed. most of his work must consist of running a quarter of a mile, or six hundred yards, with an occasional spin of half or three-quarters of a mile. the former distances must be accomplished at almost top speed, but without quite exhausting oneself; the latter must be taken at a regular, steady gait, bringing the legs out well to the front, but not carrying the knees too high. one run a day is quite sufficient, and perhaps once before the sports the full mile may be run, but this should not be done within a week of the eventful day. walking races are sometimes included in the sports' programme, the distance usually being one mile. the best training for this is to walk half a mile, or sometimes three-quarters, at one's best pace, taking great care to be perfectly fair, to keep the head erect, and to avoid all semblance of wriggle or shuffle. for the hurdle race and steeplechase the beginner should practise persistently over obstacles similar to the ones which are to be used on the day, but never going the full distance, and occasionally running fifty yards or so on the level with a view to an improvement in speed. of jumping competitions there are usually two kinds--the high jump and the long jump, and much the same kind of advice applies to both. in each instance practice should be daily, with an occasional rest for a day, and taking great care to leave off always at the first symptom of fatigue, coupled with the feeling that what has already been done cannot be improved upon. in the high jump a beginning should be made at a height well within reach, the jumper going gently and lightly over so as to gradually extend the muscles. then as he approaches the summit of his powers, he should pull himself together so as to put full force into each effort. he should jump cleanly, and start facing the bar. he should avoid all contortions and straining of the body, and above all things, refrain from the somewhat enticing-looking practice of jumping from one side--a practice which i once heard described as "putting one leg over the bar, and then going round and fetching the other." it may pay up to a certain point, but after that point is reached it is absolutely useless. the best and most successful jumpers have been those who have depended entirely on the spring from the hips. it is thence that all the power is obtained. byrd page, the famous american jumper, who often cleared ft., and once reached ft. - / ins., was a thorough believer in the straightforward method. to show what persistent practice will do, i may mention that when he was very young, his legs were so weak that he was compelled to wear irons to support them. one day the doctor told him to attend a gymnasium and practise jumping in order to strengthen his limbs. he did so, with the result that his weakness was entirely cured, and that he became, as well as an expert bicyclist, the most famous jumper the world has ever seen. to long jumping many of my previous remarks apply. in preparing for the jump, too long a run should not be taken, and in making the spring, the feet should be placed firmly together. the whole of one's force should be put into each effort, and care should be taken to avoid making false attempts. when once he has started, the jumper should make up his mind to go right through. both the jumper and the short-distance runner will find that a few minutes' daily practice with a skipping rope will greatly strengthen the legs and the fore part of the feet, on which much of the strain is placed. to all aspiring young athletes i would say: be moderate, and take care not to overdo it; lead healthy, active lives; and avoid stuffing yourselves between meals with pastry and sweets. chapter ii how to become a gymnast much benefit can be derived from gymnastic appliances if they are used understandingly. no advantage is to be gained by exercise that is carried on in a careless manner. neither too much nor too violent exercise is beneficial, though constant and regular work is necessary. it is better to work for a certain length of time every other day than to devote all of one week to exercise, and not go near the gymnasium the next. to use any apparatus carelessly is to use it dangerously. the writer has had many of his worst falls in doing some of the simplest tricks, because he was careless, and did not put his entire mind upon what he was doing. there is something besides and beyond the mere pleasure of being able to perform tricks in a gymnasium; there is a lasting benefit to be obtained in careful gymnastic exercise. in beginning your exercises there are two points that you must bear in mind always. stand erect, and before beginning any work draw a long deep breath. breathe from the abdomen, so that the lower parts of the lungs are expanded. you will find by following this simple advice that anything you attempt will be much easier for you than if you go about your exercises in a careless or slouchy way. there should be no round-shouldered gymnasts. there is no one who has achieved distinction as a gymnast who is not as straight as an arrow, and across whose shoulder-blades a yardstick could not be placed without touching his back. in your exercises avoid devoting too much time to one kind of work. do not spend all your time, for instance, on the horizontal bar, or on the parallel bars. what all would-be gymnasts should strive for is a symmetrical development of their muscles. you do not want to have legs like a piano, hard and knotted with muscles, and arms like pipe stems. nor do you want to have the arms and chest of a blacksmith, and legs like those of a crane. you want to have all your muscles developed alike, not one at the expense of another. to avoid this lop-sided kind of growth is the reason that gymnasiums have such a variety of appliances. now for the apparatus, and how it should be used. what boy, especially if he has lived in the country, has not tried to climb a rope, or go up a ladder hand over hand, and then, for the first time in his life, realised how heavy he is? perhaps no form of exercise develops so quickly the upper arm and the chest as work on the rope and ladder in a gymnasium. in practising on the ladder, first try to pull yourself up until your chin is even with the rung. keep at this exercise until you can repeat it three or four times without tiring yourself; then try to reach the rung above. do not go up too far at first, for you may find yourself many feet from the floor without strength enough to come back as you went up. that, it is almost needless for me to remind you, means a fall--and a hard one too it may be. the same advice applies to the rope. almost as quick results may be obtained by practice with the dumb-bells, with which it is possible to exercise almost every muscle in the body. the dumb-bells should be light. too heavy dumb-bells are apt to make a boy slow and sluggish in his movements. the proper weight for a beginner is half a pound, and under no circumstances should a boy use for regular exercise bells that weigh more than two pounds. indian clubs are valuable, chiefly in strengthening the muscles of the arms and wrists. exercises on the rings are divided into two classes--stationary and swinging. in the former the rings are not swung. in the latter the tricks are performed while swinging. there are two ways of grasping the rings with the hands. in "single grip," the rings are clasped as a boy grips his base-ball bat when he is ready to strike. it is used chiefly in swinging tricks. in the "double-grip," the thumbs are kept close to the palms, and the hands rest on and over the rings. the first trick on the rings, and the one that must be mastered before anything else is attempted, is the "breast-up." this consists in taking a double-grip, and raising the body so that the chin is even with the hands. the hands and wrists should be over the rings, and the elbows straight out from the shoulder. now, by leaning forward you necessarily bring your hands under your armpits, and you find yourself in such a position that you can push down on the rings and raise your body erect by simply straightening your arms. you must not expect to be able to do this the first time. it will take many efforts before you can accomplish it. the best way to learn it is to hold your weight with one hand, after you have raised your chin even with the rings, while you practise pulling the other in and under your armpit. when a boy can do this trick easily he will find that he has strength and skill enough to learn the other feats, of which this is the foundation. in horizontal bar exercises the "breast-up" is executed in the same way, but it is seldom used in getting up on the bar. a much prettier way is the trick called the "circle." this is done by clasping the bar with the double-grip--which, by-the-way, is the only one used on the bar--and raising your body as high as you can. if you can raise your chin above the bar, all the better. now raise your legs in front of you as high as possible, and lift them over the bar, letting your head drop back. this will bring your legs and body down on the other side. if a boy can do this with a fortnight's hard practice, he is doing remarkably well. in learning this trick lower the bar to the height of the shoulder and start the "circle" with a jump, which materially assists your progress during the revolution. all boys who practise on the horizontal bar probably have in mind the "giant swing," the hardest and most daring feat on the bar; but that is a long way in the future, and many other tricks must be mastered before it should even be attempted. perhaps the best of these intermediate exercises is the "hook swing." this is a very neat trick. you sit on the bar, apparently fall backward, catching the bar in the knee joints, and swing around, until you come up in your original position without touching your hands to the bar. it is not so hard as it looks if you go about it in the right way, and this is the proper way: first practise by hanging head downward from the bar by the knees. any boy can do this; but to learn the rest of the trick you need two assistants, who take hold of your hands and swing you gently at first, gradually increasing the swing as you gain confidence. when you can swing easily and safely without losing your grip and falling to the mattress as you swing backward, straighten your knees, and you will leave the bar and alight upon your feet. your assistants will save you from falling on your head should you happen to let go with your knees too soon, which you would certainly do more times than once should you attempt the trick alone. practise this until you can do it without help. the next step is to sit on the bar, which should be lowered to within four feet of the ground, and fall backward. when you come to the end of the swing, let go with your knees and alight on your feet. at first you will need help in this, as in the early part of the practice. when this is learned you can go half-way around. the object now is to come back to the position you originally had on the top of the bar. the mistake that nine boys out of ten make at this point is in thinking that all that is needed to complete the revolution is to give the body a harder swing. when you dropped from the bar in the way i have just described it was because you straightened your knees. if you bent your knees more at this point in the swing, and at the same time threw your head back, you would have found yourself on the bar instead of on the mattress. to prevent accident at first, you should have an assistant stand in front of you, so that in case you should pitch forward the moment you reach the top of the bar, you will fall into his arms. in case you should swing so hard that you cannot stop when your body becomes erect, you will simply make another half-revolution backward, when you can straighten your legs and come down on your feet in the way described already. the most important exercises on the parallel bars are called the "dip" and the "grasshopper." to do a "dip," stand between the bars, placing your hands upon them, and raise your body to arm's length. then lower the body and raise it again by bending and straightening the arms. to do a "grasshopper," begin in the same manner, but as the arms are almost straight make a little forward jump, lifting your hands from the bars, and bringing them down a few inches in advance of their original position. in this way you can travel from one end of the bar to the other, as this trick can be done equally well forward and backward. the jump may be combined with a swing in an exercise called the "pump." these tricks are easily learned; they are very safe and make muscle fast. the chief danger in their use lies in their over-indulgence. in this, as in all other gymnastic exercises, enough is as good as a feast. the flying trapeze is the most difficult of all the apparatus, and feats on the double trapeze are dangerous even to the trained gymnast. after you have mastered the exercises already described, it will be time enough for you to think about the trapeze. do not practise just before your meal hour, nor directly after it. the best time is from an hour and a half to two hours after eating. do not practise for over an hour a day at first; that is sufficient for any boy provided he does not waste his time. it should be remembered that gymnastic feats are not necessary for health. it is quite possible to exercise all the muscles without an indulgence in dangerous displays; but many boys have the courage, the desire, and the skill to pass from exercises to gymnastics. we may supplement our remarks by adding some observations upon how he became a gymnast by a writer who chooses to be known as "an ex-little fellow." he says: i have no doubt at least one of the readers of this book is a little fellow. he has just as much pluck as his bigger brother, his eye is as true and his mind as quick, but he does not weigh enough to be a success at athletics. his arms are too weak to knock out home-runs; his legs are not strong enough to carry a football through a rush line; and as for his back, the muscles are not hard enough, and the other fellow always turns him over when they are wrestling on the grass. this little fellow doubtless thinks he is made that way, and cannot help himself. no matter how much he dislikes it, he feels that he will have to go through life watching bigger and stronger fellows playing all the games and having most of the fun. now this is all a mistake, that is, if the little fellow has as much pluck and perseverance as little fellows generally have. the writer of this sketch was a little fellow himself not many years ago. he remembers how he used to look with complete and absolute disgust on his bony little arms and thin pipe-stem legs. he used to look at the big muscles of one or two companions with hopeless envy. in fact, it got so bad that this particular little fellow determined to get strong, if it took years to do it. the first thing was to get a bar. i selected a nice spot in the garden, planted deep in the ground two heavy timber uprights, and fastened firmly across the top, with mortised ends, a long heavy pitchfork handle, which was purchased at a village store, at a cost, i believe, of tenpence. when the turning-pole was finished, the next thing was to learn to do something. the first thing i learned was to hang on the pole. this may not seem like a very exciting trick, but the fact is my muscles were so weak that it took all my strength to hang there. after hanging awhile i learned to swing a little back and forth, working up higher and higher, and it was a proud day when i was able to swing my body up over the bar, and rest my stomach on the top of it. then i had to learn to "chin myself." this came more slowly; but daily practice at dumb-bells and constant tugging at the bar gradually hardened the biceps and back, until on one happy day my arms bent to the strain, my head went up, and my chin projected triumphantly over the bar. by this time the other boys became interested. they began to put bars in their own yards, and the little fellow had to superintend the operation and give instructions. the uprights should be about three by three, and planted with side braces. the post-holes should be at least three feet deep, and after the posts are set, filled in with stones and earth firmly stamped down. the bar must be just a couple of inches out of one's reach standing under it flat footed. half a dozen private bars resulted in a gymnasium in an empty stable loft, equipped with a bar, a ladder, and two trapezes. the little fellow watched his arms and legs with great concern, and could not for the life of him see that they were getting any bigger. [illustration: "other boys became interested."] it did not take many months for the breeze to blow over with the other boys, but the little fellow kept on. when the weather got too cold for the out-door bar, he read blaikie's _how to get strong_, and went through the prescribed dumb-bell exercises every night before going to bed. then two pairs of cleats were put in the door-frame, as mr blaikie directs, and a short bar cut to fit them. it did not improve the looks of the bedroom door, but the little fellow was determined to have muscle at any cost, and swung on the high bar, and pushed on the low one every night for the whole winter. the next spring he was happy. his chest was beginning to stand out in front of his shoulders, and his biceps were swelling a little. he and his chum purchased a boat that summer, and rowed on the river every day, until they were brown as indians, and could beat most of the light craft on the river. the following year the little fellow went to the city, and joined a y.m.c.a. gymnasium. there was plenty of good apparatus here, and he watched the other fellows and tried their tricks. a year or two in this gymnasium, with daily rowing in the summer, began to tell. the little fellow stripped at pounds now; his arms were brown and sinewy; he could hold a good steady stroke for ten or fifteen miles in a working boat; could run several miles at a dog-trot; and had learned to "handle his body" on the bar. then he went to college, and in the gymnasium his arms, brown to the shoulders from rowing in the sun, won him among his classmates the sobriquet of "athlete." this was very agreeable to the little fellow. four years of work and practice in a college gymnasium could have only one result. at the end of that time the little fellow was no longer a little fellow. he weighed in his clothes pounds, and every muscle in his body was hard and well trained. the friends who came down to college to see him get his diploma were greatly surprised to see him on the programme as captain of the gymnastic team, and still more astonished to see him no longer a little fellow, but a stout gymnast circling the bar, swinging gaily on the trapezes, and building pyramids with his nimble _confreres_. that is not very long ago, and now the little fellow is surprised to find himself spoken of as about the best gymnast in one of the largest amateur athletic clubs in the country. so much for our "ex-little fellow"; and now we may recount how mr. e. lawrence levy became the amateur champion weight lifter of the world. although when a boy at school he was proficient in nearly every branch of athletics, and an adept at all games, it was not until later years that he turned his attention to gymnastics. it came about in this way. when twenty-five years old, mr. levy, having passed from school-boy to tutor, started a school of his own, and with a genuine love of athletics and a knowledge of the benefit which boys may gain from them by following them within reason, he had fitted up in his school-room a trapeze on which he was wont to practise with his pupils. finding that it was scarcely safe to do this without skilled tuition, he sent for professor hubbard, the instructor of the birmingham athletic club. the result was that the trapeze was removed from the school-room to the playground, where other appliances such as horizontal and parallel bars were also fixed. here mr. levy again joined his pupils, and then, after three or four lessons, he, to the instructor's surprise, accomplished several feats which are, as a rule, only achieved by practised gymnasts. finding that he was outstripping his boys, he determined to join the birmingham athletic club. here he was able to measure himself against men of his own age and strength. it was at the club gymnasium that he one night saw the heavy dumb-bells belonging to two professional "strong men." he tried to lift the bells, but failed. this seems to have shaped his future course. instead of being discouraged by failure, he determined to overcome all obstacles and go in for heavy dumb-bell exercise. he began with comparatively light bells, and with these he practised in the solitude of his school-room for hours at a time. then he bought two new bells weighing lbs. each, using them assiduously until he could do almost anything with them--holding them out at arms' length, bringing them down to the sides of his legs and up again. when he had thoroughly mastered the "twenty-eights," he tried two "fifty-sixes." these he retained for months, being determined not to attempt the heavier bells until he was quite perfect with the lighter ones. at length mr. levy was able to put up the lb. dumb-bell. this was more than any member of the birmingham gymnasium had ever done, and it then became necessary to add two lb. dumb-bells to the collection. with these mr. levy began quietly practising, one at a time. then he took to using them together, and gradually overcoming the difficulties of the harder work, succeeded one evening in putting them up simultaneously. from that point he never went back. having done as much with the dumb-bells as at the time seemed possible, he decided to add the lifting of bar-bells to his exercises. he bought three, weighing lbs., lbs. and lbs. he practised assiduously with these, but all the time he was yearning to do still bigger feats with dumb-bells. at last his opportunity came. one friday evening, on visiting the gymnasium, he found a dumb-bell weighing lbs. it had been sent there for exhibition by some professionals who were visiting the city. he tried to put it up, and failed; but the dogged perseverance which marked his whole career came once again to his aid. finding that the huge plaything was to be left at the gymnasium till the following tuesday, he began practising indefatigably, and on the tuesday evening, in the presence of his club fellows, he achieved his self-imposed task. the next week a dumb-bell of the same weight ( lbs.) was added to his private collection, and he used it regularly. this private collection now consisted of two lbs., two lbs., two lbs., two lbs., one lbs., and one lbs. in dumb-bells, the three bar-bells already mentioned, and two iron bars, one lbs. and one lbs.--all these, together with two ring weights of lbs. each, representing a total weight of nearly sixteen hundred pounds. mr. levy appeared constantly in public. in he won the contest, held then for the first time, for the amateur weight-lifting championship, and afterwards he succeeded, at northampton, in establishing a new record by putting up above his head no fewer than ten times a bar-bell weighing in all lbs. of the recognised records for weight-lifting he held as many as nine; but mr. levy did not confine himself to one branch of gymnastics, nor made gymnastics his only athletic exercise. each year at the grand "display" of the birmingham athletic club he figured as a leader in exercises on the horizontal and parallel bars and on the rings. he was also an enthusiastic and expert cyclist, and took an intelligent interest in nearly every form of manly sport. he was, too, a busy brain worker. his height was feet - / inches; his chest measurement inches; he weighed st. lbs., and had biceps measuring inches and a forearm of - / inches. at twenty-five years of age, before he took to gymnastics, his chest measurement was inches, and the circumference of his biceps was twelve inches. [illustration: "achieved his self-imposed task."] to my readers i commend mr. levy as an example of what pluck and perseverance will do when used to a rational end. for the benefit of those who may wish to follow in his footsteps, i will quote some advice from his own pen:-- "in gymnastics it is never too late to begin. there may be some who may want, like i did, to emulate the deeds of the strong men whom every age supplies; to them i would say, give yourself up to your favourite exercise as you would to music if you would excel in it. athleticism is as jealous an accomplishment as any art you would acquire. excel in it and you will find your reward in that rough physical vigour which the world has not ceased to admire. in order to gain it you will go through a course of training which will lay the impress of health on all you do. instead of defying nature you will learn more readily to obey her, and your obedience will be gratefully, cheerfully accorded, for you will realise how magnificent it is to be strong yourself, and by your example and your deeds inspire others to dignify their physical powers." it would be difficult to say which ranks the higher in the estimation of modern boys--brain or muscle. certain it is that in these days boys of "grit" feel a contemptuous pity for the youth who is "all head and no muscle." possibly most readers will admit that muscular and mental development should go together, and that modern athletics are the necessary adjunct of school life for the building up of a "sound mind in a sound body" (_mens sana in corpore sano_). of the ancients it may be said that their faith was in "muscle." even old homer, philosopher and poet, goes so far as to say, "there is no greater honour for a man during his life than that he should be accomplished in the use of his hands and feet." it was the "man of muscle" who in ancient greece received the highest honours and rewards; it was for him that breaches were made in the city walls that he might pass through in his triumphal march. it was he who was relieved from the payment of taxes, whose statue was erected at the public cost, and whose praise was sung by the poets. in ancient days leaders and rulers were selected simply on account of their development of "muscle." hence we read of caius maximinus, who from the lowly position of herdsman, was raised to the dignity of a roman emperor on account of his physical strength. this maximinus, it is said, could squeeze to powder the hardest stone with his fingers, and history tells us that on one occasion he "knocked down six men without drawing breath!" those fingers of his must surely have been moved by muscles of iron, and his "biceps" must have appeared a veritable mountain! a consideration of the fact that maximinus was upwards of eight feet in height renders these feats less surprising, but to most beef-eating british boys it will perhaps be a "staggerer" to learn that the mighty deeds of maximinus were performed on a vegetable diet. [illustration: milo of crotona.] the history of another muscular leader, milo of crotona, may possibly have some elements of truth in it, and we can quite imagine his marching with his countrymen against an army of sybarites, clothed in a lion's skin and brandishing a tremendous club; but it will take more than the proverbial "grain of salt" to enable us to swallow the story of his running a mile with a four-year-old ox on his shoulders, killing the animal, and _eating the carcase, every inch, in one day_! it is not the way of modern athletes to show their strength by killing four-year-old oxen, or knocking men down like ninepins. they let us see their development of muscle at the wrestling match, at the oar and the wicket, at swimming and cycling, at their walking, running, and leaping performances, and one great advantage of this is that the ladies, who were excluded from the ancient "gymnasia" on pain of death, can in these days, by their presence, not only secure enjoyment to themselves, but give pleasure and encouragement to many an aspirant for athletic fame, who, if for no other reason, would endure the hardest training to "win the plaudits of the fair." in the matter of training and developing the muscles, the old italian proverb will, as in so many other cases, apply, "_chi va piano va sano e lontano_," or, as we should say, "he that goes gently and steadily goes safely and far." there must be moderation in the commencement, or there will be a "breakdown" in the end. no youth who doubts the soundness of his heart and lungs should go in for muscular training--for heavy work with the dumb-bells, for instance--without medical advice. to weakly constitutions training may be injurious--even fatal. in developing the voluntary muscles, as of the arm and leg, the growth of which we can measure, we must be careful of the involuntary muscles--those regulating the heart and lungs, and which are naturally and unconsciously brought into use. of course, those muscles most brought into play by special exercise will be most developed--of the legs and thighs, for instance, in _walking_, and those of the arms, legs, and loins in _rowing_. for the general development of muscle, it is, of course, well to "take on" those sets of muscles not used in one's ordinary occupation. thus a youth who is sitting the greater part of his time at study or work should walk, swim, and row; one who has a walking occupation would do well to take both to rowing and swimming; whilst a "waterman" would do best to go in for hard walking. every one knows that diet has a great deal to do with the development or deterioration of "muscle," and that meat, vegetables, and drink should be very judiciously combined. weston--whose great walk, in , of , miles in days, was spoken of by dr. andrew blyth as "the greatest recorded labour, if its continuity be considered, that a human being has ever taken without injury"--dieted himself as follows:-- breakfast ( . a.m.).--porridge, eggs or fish, bread and butter, toast or mutton, and coffee. lunch ( a.m.).--bread and butter, and coffee. dinner ( p.m.).--mutton broth, meat, potatoes, cabbage, bread pudding, and soda water or ginger ale. tea ( p.m.).--a little toast, and tea or coffee. supper ( . p.m.).--toast, figs, sponge cake, pudding, and milk or soda water. it will be thus seen that alcohol formed no part of weston's diet, and that his principal drinks were _tea_, _coffee_, and _milk_. this says much for the advantage of the practice of total abstinence, especially in view of the fact of the _continuity_ of muscular exertion. the number of steps taken in weston's great walk has been calculated at about , , , and the _daily_ work of the muscles equivalent to that of raising tons one foot. another testimony to the advantage of abstinence from stimulants in the development of "muscle" is given by louis cyr, the canadian athlete, who secured the title of, "strongest man in the world" at a paris exhibition. he weighed lbs., and mentioned, among his feats, that he could break with his bare fist a stone two inches thick, four inches wide, and six inches long. he took his wife (who weighed lbs.) and balanced her on the top of a -ft. ladder, resting on his chin. cyr said that the great secret of his strength was his total abstinence from all alcoholic drinks, and this bears out dr. b. w. richardson's statement that "the idea of alcohol giving force and activity to the muscles is entirely false." chapter iii walking, running, and jumping $walking.$--as a rule, the walking of long distances in a short time is a sad mistake. there is little or no pleasure in it, and the injury it may do you quite counter-balances the satisfaction you may feel in having accomplished it. i wouldn't give a pin to be able to do my three miles in min. secs. like webster, because i know perfectly well that my mind would gain nothing, or my body either from such an achievement. every day of the year, unless specially hindered, i walk between eight and ten miles, and i am always discontented if anything stands in the way of my walk. from my own experience, i feel sure that boys, whether training for football, or school examinations, cannot do better for themselves than walk whenever they have the chance. you never know what call may suddenly be put upon the muscles of your legs. a life may depend upon your ability to sprint seven or eight miles in the hour. and if you can walk as many miles straight off and enjoy every yard of it, you may rely on being able to walk and run the distance in the time. a few words may be said on style in walking. it is simply wonderful how people differ in this respect. hardly two persons walk alike. they either carry their heads, or bodies, or arms differently, or there is a distinct difference in the way they use their legs or feet. however, there is nothing very sad about this. variety is charming, even in pedestrianism, though in professional walkers this variety is apt to show itself in a walk that is almost twin brother to a trot. the following words of the once celebrated westhall are valuable for boys and men who walk for health and pleasure, as well as professionals who walk for pots or purses:--"to be a good and fair walker the attitude should be upright, or nearly so, with the shoulders well back, though not stiffly so, and the arms, when in motion, held well up in a bent position, and at every stride swinging with the movement of the legs well across the chest, which should be well thrown out. the loins should be slack, to give plenty of freedom to the hips, and the leg _perfectly straight_, thrown out from the hip bodily and directly in front of the body, and allowed to reach the ground with the heel being decidedly the first portion of the foot to meet it." some people insist on the toes being turned out in a most unmistakable way when walking. it is not at all a pretty sight, and much more suggestive of a duck waddling out of a pond than a well-trained human being. besides, it throws an undesirable and harmful amount of strain upon the smaller toes. better to point the toes downwards and forwards, _never_ outwards; spring sharply towards the tiptoe, straightening the knee. learn also to hold the ground with the great toe at the beginning and at the end of each step. we cannot grasp the ground; good foothold is only to be obtained by pressure of the toes against it. this may, at first reading, seem rather strange counsel; but if we have any physical relationship with monkeys, the strangeness of it is at once removed. mark how the monkey holds with his feet. perhaps a million years ago we also (or rather our prototypes) held the ground with our feet in like manner. one thing is certain, that bad walkers (bad in style, i mean) are very ugly to see, whereas there is something majestic about the carriage of a good walker. $sprinting.$--not many athletes can excel in all kinds of running, and the champion sprinter is not generally a winner of long-distance races. moreover, it is necessary for each runner to decide which he will be, for the training for each is different. train gradually. at first take sharp walks of three or four miles. this will make the muscles begin to harden. then run steadily for a quarter of a mile at a time, not troubling much about the speed. cultivate the use of the toes and stride straight forward. towards the end of the run the speed may be increased, for the muscles will then be in working order. even now, however, the young sprinter should not tire himself. a week should be employed in this way before the more severe training is undertaken. never begin to run violently at first, and this rule should be observed particularly in cold weather, for until the muscles have warmed to their work they are liable to strain, or even to suffer more severe injury. practise starting. if you have a friend ask him to act as starter, and start over and over again, going to the mark and putting yourself in position time after time. in a short race like this a good start often makes all the difference, for it means sometimes a gain of a yard. $middle distance races.$--speed wins short-distance races; endurance wins long-distance races, but a combination of each is needed in the medium distance contests. $long distances.$--the training for long-distance races needs patience and endurance, for the tax upon the runner is great. boys should not compete in long distances. no one under eighteen years of age should run a mile. the method of training is to run a quarter, or half a mile, according to the strength of the runner, and then each day to increase the distance or to run the same distance at a greater speed. gradually by this process the lungs, the heart, and the muscles are strengthened until feats hitherto impossible become easy. in a long-distance race judgment must be exercised whether to go the distance rapidly and trust to endurance or to run warily and win by a spurt at the end, when it may be that your opponent is exhausted. $the long jump.$--speed is an important element in this feat, more important indeed than the spring. experts take a run of from a hundred to two hundred feet as though they were running a sprint race and are going at their highest speed when they rise from the ground. when they are coming to the ground again they thrust their legs forward as far as they can, and so gain a foot or even more. this needs practice, however, for if the leaper loses his balance and falls backward his jump does not count. to start from the mark also needs practice, and one of the methods of mastering this feat is to run slowly to a point about nine paces short of the starting place. in training this point may be marked by a piece of paper. then sprint from the paper to the starting place. experts are able to jump twenty-four feet, and a leap of twenty-two is excellent, but not many can hope to reach these lengths. $the high jump.$--here the athlete begins his run to the centre of the bar slowly, then he increases his speed a little, finishing with a quick run and a bound. the spring is taken in something like a crouching position with the head drawn in, but in the air the shoulders are lifted and the arms and legs jerked upwards. as the jumper crosses the bar he shoots out his legs, raises his shoulders still higher, and twists his body until he faces downwards. in fact he is then nearly horizontal, and an amateur champion of the world has likened his position at this stage to that of an arrow crossing a bow. when he comes to the ground he faces the bar. some jumpers rise from the right foot, some from the left. the young athlete should find for himself which method suits him best. it is usual to take the leap as far in front of the bar as the bar is from the ground. thus, if the bar is four feet high the leap would begin four feet from a point on the ground directly under the bar. the run usually begins twelve good paces from the bar, and consists of one bound after another, concluding with three short energetic ones. then comes the spring from a crouching position. if the start is from the right foot, this foot should be almost parallel to the bar, and the heel of this foot should be the last to leave the ground. a run would carry you far, but in this feat it is the vigorous spring which carries you high. there are those who can jump more than six-feet high in this way, but they are among the champions. chapter iv hockey and indian clubs $hockey.$--hockey is a game which has become very popular in england during the past few years. it is generally believed to be a southern form of the highland game of shinty, the great game of the clansmen in years gone past, and still played in many of the northern glens, notably on the dumbartonshire side of loch lomond. the hockey of the north is not played according to any scale of points, the winning team being that which secures most goals; in the south, where it is frequently played on ice as well as on _terra firma_, certain marks of merit are awarded, after the style of rugby union football. the modern hockey stick is to some extent an artificial contrivance after the style of the driver or play club of golf. indeed, to golf it bears some little semblance, and strangers frequently confound the two pastimes. the scottish school-boy, when hockey comes on in its turn with other recreations of the playground, sets out for the woodlands with a strong, sharp pocket-knife. he examines carefully all the hedge-rows to see if there is any young plant which has a natural turn at the end. if he can find such with a three feet shaft and a four-inch crook at the end he sets to work there and then, and in due time his "shinty" or hockey stick is pruned and ready for the game. the full-grown highland player will possibly provide himself with a very heavy oak sapling, and with this he will strike powerful strokes, with his right hand, or both hands if required, when in a close contested maul or fray in front of the goal. these naturally-grown clubs have more spring in them than those of artificial make, but unless they are carefully bound with cord the head is apt to give after a little hard play. [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] a good deal of the art of the game consists in passing or nursing, as in association football. a novice would strike the knag or knob away from him as soon as he had obtained his opportunity. not so the adept, who would "dribble" it forward, to use a football phrase, a few yards at a time, work it on to his partner, back up, and keep following it, then, with one swinging blow, make a shot for goal. in hockey on the ice the dribbling game is seen to most advantage, as the skilful skater can take the knag a hundred yards or more by adroit nursing or passing; were he to strike it away with the first blow the chances are that it would be immediately returned with interest, and a goal scored to the opposite side. [illustration] [illustration] in the highlands it is a grand sight to see two opposing bodies of clansmen--met as of old they met with targe and claymore--to fight out a friendly game. everything is cast aside but shirt and kilt, and bare-headed and bare-legged the contestants seem to have walked out of the picture of some ancient highland foray. striking off in mid-ground the welkin soon rings with their shouts in gaelic, their cheers and expostulations. blows that were meant for the knag sometimes fall heavy upon an opponent's knees, and soon legs are to be seen streaming with blood. in the heat of the play they feel it not, though next day they will possibly not have a part of their under limbs without bruises between ankles and knees. with terrific swing donald or duncan, who stands six-feet two in his socks, will drive it like a cannon ball through the air; and arrested by malcolm's head in its flight the latter drops like a stone, only to recover his senses in a minute again and go off in wild pursuit. when the sun sinks, the game is proclaimed over, and both sides shake hands, dress, and depart homeward, well pleased with their sport, no matter whether they may have won or lost. [illustration] $indian clubs.$--club swinging, if carried out in the correct style, brings almost every muscle into play, develops the chest and arms, imparts an easy carriage to the figure, and, if persevered in, under proper conditions to be hereafter mentioned, will ultimately enable the most round-shouldered individual to assume that lissom and perpendicular attitude which is the characteristic of the finished athlete. first let me impress upon you the importance of avoiding heavy clubs when you commence the exercise, or even after becoming moderately proficient. difficult feats are not easy to accomplish with very heavy clubs, besides the latter, instead of strengthening the muscles, are more likely to produce the opposite effect. directly the club is heavy enough to sway you about on your feet, the exercise is doing you harm, and your attitude will appear ungraceful. should you be ambitious to swing very heavy clubs, be advised to proceed cautiously, and gradually increase the weight at long intervals. clubs recommended for ordinary use should weigh between - / and lbs. each, as that weight affords plenty of muscular exertion to strong and comparatively weak men alike, especially in difficult exercises. after becoming fairly proficient with the lighter weights, heavier clubs might be used with advantage, say three or four pounds each, but a practised athlete of great muscular power may safely swing clubs of twenty pounds or more. a club, say twenty-two inches in length, made of willow which should weigh about - / lbs., is the most suitable for young boys or ladies. the club should be well tapered towards the top and artistically shaped: an ill-shaped club is a very awkward and unsatisfactory instrument. in nearly all exercises the feet should be some distance apart in proportion to your height: for a man of five feet nine inches, about the proper distance between heels would be seventeen inches. for many exercises the shoulders should be kept square to the front, while in others it is necessary to turn more or less to the right or left. if the shoulders are turned through half a right angle, reckoning from the position with the shoulders square, the shoulders are said to be half-right or half-left; if the shoulders are turned through a complete right angle, the shoulders are considered full right or full left as the case may be. style is a most important item to be considered, not only for the sake of appearance, but also in order that the utmost physical benefit may be derived from the exercise. an eminent authority, in speaking of style, remarks: "if you swing clubs without regard to style, you will naturally contrive to cast almost all the labour upon your strongest muscles, so that the exercise, instead of searching out and strengthening your weak points, will merely tend to increase the muscles which are already disproportionately developed; whereas, if you attend carefully to style, you will be compelled to bring a great variety into play, so that your weakest muscles will be at first most severely taxed, and will gradually become developed in proportion to those which are naturally strong." it is necessary that the knees be kept straight and the muscles of the legs well braced, as there is a tendency at first, especially with heavy clubs, to let the knees bend in the course of certain movements; the head should be carried erect, and should turn with the shoulders, so that you always look in a direction at right angles to the line of the shoulders. the best way to keep the head steady and in its proper position is to fix the eyes on some point a trifle above their own level, in a direction at right angles to the line of the shoulders for the time being. should you allow your eyes to wander, you will find it impossible to keep the head steady. in summing up the chief points relating to style, the following should be kept in view, viz.:-- ( ) all unnecessary movement of the body should be avoided, the head should be carried erect, and the feet firmly placed at a distance apart in proportion to your height. ( ) in swings, keep the arm as nearly straight as possible; in twists, the hand should be kept almost in the same place throughout the movement. ( ) the movement of the club should be kept even, and avoid all abrupt or sudden changes of pace. ( ) the clubs should be kept in accurate turn with each other. in order to correct your own style, a good plan is to practise before a looking-glass. the proper position for holding the club before beginning an exercise is called "the carry." stand erect and grasp the club with the right hand, lift the club and hold it up vertically, with the hand just in a line, and not raised higher than the shoulder. club exercises are divided into four series. the first, called outward, are those in which the right club moves in the same direction as the hands of a clock facing you, whilst the left club moves against the hands of the clock. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] inward exercises are those in which these conditions are entirely reversed, and parallel exercises are those in which both clubs swing with or against the clock. windmill exercises are explained at fig. , the subject is made clear in fig. , where, for the sake of simplicity, both hands are holding the same club; the right hand, which is travelling in the same direction as a clock facing the athlete, is making an outward circle, as the left hand is working against the clock, the left hand is making an inward circle, and as both hands are swinging with the clock, a parallel exercise would be in progress, if there were two clubs instead of one as shown in the illustration. the outward front swing follows "the carry" as a natural consequence. straighten the arm completely till the hand is above and about three inches in front of the shoulder; the point of the club should then be allowed to move slightly forward, with the wrist turned in, then let the hand and club move to the right, the arm being kept straight, and the club being kept in a straight line with the arm throughout the movement. a circle can then be described and a return made to the initial position. to make this description more easily understood, i have a capital illustration in front of me, and i cannot do better than quote it. "if you were to stand with a wall about ten inches in front of you, the point of the club, would, in the preparatory position, just touch the wall at the highest point you could reach with the club; and as you did the swing, the point of the club would always touch the wall, and, if it were chalked, would draw a circle on the wall, of which the radius would be as nearly as possible equal to the length of your arm and the club together." this is one of those simple-looking movements which are by no means easy of accomplishment. the arm should be kept straight with the arm and the club in a line, and avoid stooping as the club passes in front of the legs. beginners should practise front swings, and follow them up until they are done with before attempting anything else. circles, swings, and twists.--it should be noted that circles are divided into "swings" and "twists". the club and forearm acting in a straight line during the movement would come under the heading of "swings," whilst circles swung from the wrist with the hand as a centre point are reckoned as "twists." some of the very advanced movements, however, unite the characteristics of both swings and twists, and it is difficult to say under which heading they should be classed. fig. illustrates the outward front swing with both clubs. the exercise shown is a cross windmill, the performer with both clubs straight above the shoulder swings the left club outwards; so soon as the left club points downwards he will swing the right club outwards, and it will arrive at the lowest point just as the left club has completed its circle. the outward back twist.--from "the carry," raise the hand a little above the shoulder, passing it slightly to the rear, so that the forefinger is level with and within two inches of the lobe of the ear, the elbow being raised to the right till it is nearly as high as the shoulder, allowing the club to slope a little backwards from the hand. from this preparatory position, let the point of the club move to the right, and, keeping the hand close to the ear throughout the movement, a circle can be described by the point of the club. in this twist get the point of the club sufficiently to the right and to the rear as the club descends, in order to avoid letting the point of the club pass too far to the rear as it ascends. care should be taken to keep the hand in the same place throughout the twist, and don't duck the head forward during the ascent of the club. this tendency is produced by the fear of a blow on the head while the club is travelling in its upward course. windmill exercises.--the exercises known as windmill are very interesting. as in parallel exercises, the one club does outward circles and the other inward circles, keeping exact pace with each other, the one being always half a circle ahead of the other; therefore, when one club points straight up, the other points straight down, so that when viewed from the front, the clubs appear always to point in exactly opposite directions. a windmill exercise is difficult to learn, but when grasped, you should at once tackle the corresponding form on the other side. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows the inward back twist being cross windmilled. the outward cross front twist.--in this twist the hand should be kept close to the left breast throughout the movement, and as the club descends, turn the wrist out and bend it over, the while turning the wrist out as the club ascends till it is horizontal on the left, again turning it sharply as the club finishes its ascent. twists similar to the cross front twist may be performed with the hand above or below the height of the shoulder, also a cross front twist may be done with the hand at the height of and in front of either the right or left hip. avoid letting the clubs go too far forward while they are below the horizontal, and too far back during the higher part of the movement. each front swing should be done in good style, and endeavour not to stoop as the clubs pass each other when they begin to ascend. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. a.] fig. shows the outward cross front twist with the right hand at arm's length, whilst the left club is simultaneously making an outward back twist at arm's length, it must be noted, that although the right club is moving towards the performer, yet as it is moving in the same direction as the hand of a clock, parallel, and in front of the twist made, it is called an outward twist. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an outward back twist at arm's length with the right club, the left club is making an outward front twist, the only difference being, that the circle is made with the left club entirely in front of the left arm, instead of in the rear of it. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an inward swing with the right club done simultaneously with an inward swing with the left club. this exercise can be made into a cross inside windmill in the same way that fig. can be made into a regular outside exercise, instead of being a cross outside windmill. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an inside back twist at arm's length above the head and an inward cross front twist at arm's length downwards, the connecting inward front swings being also shown. this is very difficult. parallel exercises.--these consist of an outward circle with one club and an inward circle with the other, in which the two circles are begun together, and in which the two clubs keep exact pace with each other throughout, consequently both clubs appear to be always parallel to each other. this is called a "parallel" combination. when the various parallel combinations have become familiar to the learner, he may continue such combinations in succession to each other and profit thereby. parallel exercises are considered the greatest test of proficiency with clubs, as the slightest error will cause a divergence of the clubs and be at once detected. endeavour to master a parallel combination thoroughly, and then the combination on the other side will come easy enough. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows a parallel exercise, an inward front swing with r. being done simultaneously with an outward front swing with l. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an outward back twist with r. and an inward cross twist with l. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an inward back twist with r. and an outward back twist with l., followed by an inward front swing with r. and an outward front swing with l. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an inward back twist with r. and an outward front swing with l. [illustration: fig. a.] fig. a shows an outward front swing with r. and an inward back twist with l. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] figs. , , show some of the movements of clubs as generally practised on the continent, but we consider dumb-bells more suitable for lunging movements. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] figs. , show some wrist exercises, which are sufficiently plain to need no explanation. fig. shows the outward cross front twist with the r. hand near left breast, while the left club is making an outward front swing; the corresponding movement would be an outward cross front with the l. whilst the r. made the outward front swing. miscellaneous circles.--circles which may be done with the arm passed behind the neck, and the hand brought forward over the left shoulder, require extraordinary length of arm and elasticity. circles are sometimes done in which the centre of gravity of the club is caused to remain stationary while the hand moves in a circle, which conveys the impression that the club is revolving about an axle through its centre of gravity. these are difficult movements, and very attractive. throwing the clubs.--these exercises require great dexterity before satisfactory results can be obtained. to let go the club and cause it to turn twice or more in the air and catch it again, is a feat that entails endless practice. dealing only with the right club, a few brief notes regarding some of the simpler movements must suffice. ( ) perform an outward front swing, and as the club approaches the horizontal in its ascent let it go, and after it has made one revolution in the air catch it again; this is the outward throw. ( ) the inward throw is an exact counterpart of the outward throw, but done by an inward swing. ( ) "the double outward throw" and "the double inward throw" are done by allowing the club to turn twice before catching it. there are endless varieties of other throws, all of which allow unlimited action, as the shoulder cannot be kept strictly in position, because the clubs have to be carefully watched while they are in the air. without doubt, indian club exercise is an attractive pastime, and entails no strain on the system, unless by the foolish practice of using too heavy clubs. chapter v swimming, rowing, and water polo $swimming.$--a glance at some books of instruction conveys the impression that swimming is difficult and complicated; but many boys learn in three or four days, and we know a timid boy who had much to overcome in fear of the water who learnt in fourteen without more aid than he obtained from reading directions in books. it is easier to learn in a tepid indoor bath, because the novice is not worried by having to keep himself warm, and he has the rail, a sure bottom, and the side of the bath to help him. a friendly companion who will support his chest with one hand at first, especially if he can instruct him too, will shorten the period of learning. there is no need to go into deep water, nor to run any risks in learning to swim. the action of the arms may be practised in or out of the water. draw the arms to the chest with the elbows touching the sides. close the fingers and thumb of each hand, and make the hands slightly hollow. the hands will be under the chin and the hollowed palms downwards. push them out in front of your nose, not vigorously, but quietly and steadily, for so far the action is one that retards the swimmer rather than advances him. once at their full extent, however, the hands should be turned almost back to back, and then each should be swept away from the other in a semi-circle, something like the action of the oars when a boat is being rowed. when the elbows touch the body the stroke ends, and the hands should go back to their position under the chin ready for another stroke. more important than the arms in swimming are the legs, but their movements are very simple and easy to learn. grasp the rail that runs round the bath with one hand and place the other hand flat upon the side of the bath about a foot below. draw the legs up to the body, with the heels touching each other, toes of each foot turned outwards, the toes of the right foot to the right, the toes of the left foot to the left. keep the knees wide apart and turned outwards. when the legs have been drawn up as far as possible the soles of the feet should be only just under the water. now shoot both legs out vigorously, not only as far as they will go, but as widely asunder as you can spread them. then bring the heels smartly together so that the legs return in a line with the body again. this last movement is very important, for it is in displacing the wedge of water between the widely opened legs that the body receives its forward impulse. writers upon swimming have likened this action to the flight of the slippery orange pip when it is squeezed in the fingers of the school-boy. when the use of arms and legs is practised together the legs are drawn up and the hands are placed under the chin at the same time, and the hands and legs are sent out from the body together. the head should be thrown back well, and it will help the learner to do this if he looks at the sky or at the ceiling of the bath when he is learning. it is easier to swim upon the back than upon the chest. the movement of the legs is the same, and the movement of the hands not very different. lie backwards upon the water and with the hands together stretch the arms behind the head, palms upwards, thumbs touching. then sweep the hands away from each other, using them like oars, and so bringing them back with a wide curve to the hips. upon the back it is possible to swim without the use of the arms at all. learning to swim makes one sadly out of breath, but with practice the art becomes easy, and we swim with almost as much ease as we walk. having learned plain swimming it is not difficult to add gradually the numerous other methods of propelling the body through the water. $rowing.$--to watch and imitate a good rower is the best way to acquire a good style, but a few hints will help. sit squarely upon the seat and stretch your legs straight before you, but with your toes turned out slightly. rowers are not agreed about the knees. some keep them together; others have them apart, and they will tell you that this arrangement permits the body to come further forward over the knees. your feet should be placed firmly against the stretcher, and this must be let out or shortened, to suit the length of the rower. one foot may be placed in the strap which is often attached to the stretcher. the outside hand is placed upon the handle of the oar, with the thumb as well as the fingers above it, while the other hand grasps it firmly lower down, keeping the nut towards you. the arms are now quickly thrust forward till they are quite straight at the elbows, after which the back follows the arms by bending forward at the hips. be careful, however, to avoid round shoulders. when your hands have reached their full stretch raise them, and the blade will drop quietly into the water. then with the water just covering the blade, the body is brought back with a strong but not clumsy movement, till it reaches a little beyond the perpendicular of the back of the seat, when the hands are brought back to the ribs, the elbows gliding near the hips; and at the last moment, as the hand touches the ribs, the wrist of the inside hand is lowered, the knuckles being at the same time brought against the chest, and the oar is made to revolve in the rowlock. this is called "feathering" the oar, a process by which it is brought neatly out of the water. now push the oar rapidly forward again, first, however, restoring it to its original position in the rowlock. this is done by raising the wrist, and then darting the arms forward till the elbows are quite straight. now the rower is at his starting point. to "back water" these actions are reversed. the oar is first reversed in the rowlock, and then it is pushed through the water with as much power as is needed, and pulled through the air. when the oars on one side are pulled, and those on the other are backed, the boat is made to turn round completely in a small space. expert rowers have arrived at the following maxims: straighten the arms before bending the body forward; drop the oar neatly into the water; draw the oar straight through at the same depth; feather the oar cleanly, and without bringing the oar out before doing so; use the back and shoulders freely, keeping the arms as straight as possible; keep your eyes fixed on the rower before you. by this means the body is almost sure to swing backwards and forwards regularly in a straight line. if you look out of the boat you will probably lose this rhythmic motion. $sculling.$--this process is different from that of rowing in that the sculler has a scull for each hand, whereas the rower uses both hands for one oar. the rower sits near the side of the boat, the sculler in the centre of the seat. the sculls are lighter than oars, the action quicker. there are from thirty to forty strokes a minute in sculling, but the average is about thirty-two. the boy who goes out sculling alone is often his own steerer, and so needs to keep a sharp look-out over his shoulder. having taken a seat in the centre, stretch out your legs to their fullest extent and adjust the stretcher. grasp the sculls, one in each hand, by the handles, and bend your body forward until your head is well over your knees. throw your arms well forward, and straight, so that the sculls will be thrown well backwards. then dip the sculls, try to keep the dip uniform, and pull hard. the stroke comes to an end when the elbows are brought to the top of the hips, and the hands to the chest, with the body well back as a result of the strong pull. the sculls are "feathered" as they leave the water by the depressing of the elbows and the bending upwards of the wrists, as the back of the hands are turned towards the forearms, an operation which offers the least resistance to the water when releasing the sculls to obtain the position known as the return, that is, the position to begin again. to turn a boat in the water the sculler must back water with one scull and pull with the other. to do this one scull is reversed, its rounded face being towards the rear as the sculler pushes it from him. at the same time pull sharply with the other scull until the boat's head has been turned round completely. boats without rudders are managed in the water, either by pulling both sides alike, in which case the boat moves in a straight line, or by reversing the action of the oars, equally on both sides, pushing them through the water instead of pulling them, and called backing water. in this case the boat recedes. by pulling one side only, the boat describes a part of a circle, which is made smaller by pulling one oar, and backing the other. by means of a rudder the boat may be made to take almost any direction without reference to the rowers. a few experiments with a rudder will soon demonstrate what its powers are. [illustration: water polo.] $water polo.$--boys who can swim will find this excellent sport. each player should provide himself with a sound cask. place it upon its side and weight it with lead or other material, making this ballast fast so that it cannot move about. now make the cask quite water-tight. upon one end fix a horse's head made of wood, upon the other a tail. these features may be made as extravagant and comic as the owner pleases. get a paddle like a canoe paddle, and astride of this horse take to the water. choose sides as at football and have for goals stakes driven into the bed of the river or floating objects moored into position. the ball should be a light hollow india-rubber one, or a bladder from the butcher. some players use the inner part of a football. the paddle both strikes the ball and propels the steed. this game should never be played unless the players are accompanied by a capable person in a boat who can go to the assistance of those who may be in difficulties. chapter vi paperchasing, football, golf, and boxing $paperchasing.$--this may be practised with more or less success all the year round, but it is in the winter time that it can best be enjoyed. it is then that the air is cool and invigorating, and that the fields, being unoccupied by crops, may be run over without any very great damage being done. for boys it is a grand game; it affords a welcome change from the scrimmages and knocks of football and fives; and if the distance run be not too far, nor the pace too fast, there are few who cannot take part in it with pleasure. an important point in its favour is that the expenses connected with it are small. the paperchaser wears jersey, knickerbockers and stockings as at football, with the addition, in very cold weather, of woollen mittens to keep the wrists warm, and the substitution of light leather or rubber and canvas shoes, for heavy boots. for each of the "hares" there must be provided a bag in which to carry the "scent." these bags should be of stout linen or canvas and shaped like a life-buoy, so that they go round the runner--under the left shoulder and over the right--with a hole in the under-side, by means of which they are filled and emptied. time was when the "scent" consisted of paper torn up very small, the preparation of which afforded almost as much fun as the chase itself; but nowadays we have grown luxurious, and fill the bags with the paper shavings which may be purchased for a very small sum from any bookbinder or printer. much of the success of a paperchase depends on the choosing of the hares. of these there are generally two or three--more often the former--and it is necessary that one of them should have a good knowledge of the surrounding country. the time of their departure having been noted, they start off and lay a trail as they go. sometimes one will lay for a while, and then the other will take a turn; occasionally one will lead and lay his trail, and the other following some little distance in the rear, will look out for gaps and fill them in. it is not necessary to lay a continuous trail, but care should be taken that it is quite easy to see from one patch of scent to the next. when the wind is high, it is always well in crossing from one field to another, to sprinkle some scent on the hedge itself. the laying of an occasional "false" scent adds to the troubles of the hounds, and gives the hares a chance of regaining some of the advantage which they naturally lose in choosing their course. a "false" is usually managed by the hares separating, and each laying a trail in different directions; then one ceases laying, and makes his way straight across country to join his companion, and they go on again together as before. in laying a false trail, much ingenuity may be shown. one way is to make the wrong one much the more distinct of the two; but this must not always be done, or naturally it will soon cease to have any effect. in selecting a course, it is well to choose a circular one, so that in case of accidents, the distance from home is not very far; and it is a very good plan, and one which is likely to be of advantage to all, to start out against the wind and to return with it. the reason for this is that it is easier to face the wind when starting out fresh than when returning home fatigued at the end of a run. the hounds, or pack, must be provided with a captain and a "whipper-in"--the former to set the pace and generally take command, and the latter to look after the stragglers and see that none are left behind. both should be good runners, and if possible should have had some experience of the game. after an interval--the length of which is arranged with the hares before they start, and depends chiefly on the distance it is proposed to travel--the pack set out on their journey. the pace should be a steady jog-trot, especially at the beginning; afterwards, if all goes well, it may be increased. it is a rule that so long as the hares are not in sight, all must follow the trail; but if once they are seen, it becomes a case of "catch who can," the scent is ignored, and all go off straightway in pursuit. if the hares are not seen and there appears to be no likelihood of their being caught, it is usual for the captain on getting within a mile or so of home, to give the word for a race and for the hounds to set off then to compete among themselves for the honour of being the first to reach the goal. carried out on these lines, paperchasing provides plenty of fun, and is as healthy a pastime as can be found. now and again there will be a ducking caused by a failure to clear a brook, or a stumble at a fence; but if the victims of these mishaps keep moving, and immediately they reach home, change their clothes, little harm will be done. two warnings may be given: do not go too far; and when feeling tired, do not strain yourself by trying to race. a six or seven miles spin is quite long enough for any one; and it is better to go all through at a jog-trot, and even to walk occasionally, than to sow the seeds of future ills by striving to outdo fleeter rivals. $hints on football.$--football is one of the games which cannot be learned from books. its best lessons are those taught by hard experience, and as much may be learned in an afternoon's play and in watching a match between two good teams, as by a diligent study of all the books on the game that have ever been written; but at the same time there are a number of unwritten rules which, although they often take years to learn, are of service to every player; and i have therefore deemed it wise to collect them and put them down here in black and white in the hope that they may be of use to many who, with some experience of the game, and eager to improve their play, have no opportunity for seeing big matches, and no one whom they can ask for advice. these rules are fourteen in number, and should be learned by heart by every player. they apply specially to the rugby game, but some of them are of use also to those who favour the association pastime:-- . never play immediately after a meal. it is best to have dinner two hours before the game begins. . in passing a ball to a comrade send it smartly and quickly straight into his hands. . never pass the ball when you are near your own goal line, and never pass straight back except when opposite your opponents' goal, and the player to whom you pass is well placed for dropping a goal. . never be too eager to pick up the ball and run with it. a neat dribble with the feet is often most effective, and it is generally very difficult to stop. . in collaring an opponent always keep your eyes open, and always go hard and low. . never "speculate" or take flying kicks at the ball. . when fairly held by an opponent, do not waste your strength by useless struggling, but at once cry "held," and put down the ball. . when you have the ball in your possession, and find it impossible to pass it to advantage or to proceed, always punt into touch. . in handing off an opponent, turn your thumb inside your hand and turn the palm outwards with the fingers held together. . when one of your own side is running with the ball, always follow up close behind, but a little on one side of him. when passed by an opponent who has it, try to get round again to meet him before he reaches your goal line. . in your spare time practise punting, drop-kicking, and place-kicking, with both feet. an otherwise good player is often left out of a team in order to make room for one who is not quite so good, but is able to kick. . study the laws of the game whenever you have an opportunity. . always keep your temper and do not talk. obey your captain at once, and unhesitatingly accept the decision of the referee. . change your clothes as soon as possible after playing, and in going home be careful to wrap up well. in conclusion, i would point out that if properly played rugby football is not dangerous. the great majority of accidents which occur are due to the neglect of one of the simple rules here laid down--through useless struggling, loose collaring, wild kicking, or blind rushing. the rules for the association and the rugby game may be obtained for one penny each, so we have refrained from reproducing them here. [illustration: driving] $golf.$--this is another of those games well learned on the field, by observation of the best players, and by hints from friends. we have, however, compiled a series of injunctions based upon long experience. driving.--lower your left shoulder. stand still and do not see-saw with your body. plant your feet squarely. grasp your club lightly yet firmly in the hollow of your fingers. slowly swing well back and complete your stroke well through, pushing to the very end with your right hand. it is a disadvantage to try to get under the ball. [illustration] the brassy.--in using this club swing as far back as you can, slowly. the mashie and iron.--swing back very slowly and have the forefinger of your right hand well down the club, which should be held lightly. go well through with the stroke and rise slightly off your left heel. putting.--grasp the club firmly, swing back very slowly, and go well through with the stroke. [illustration: out of the furze] [illustration: out of a bunker] [illustration: putting] general advice.--in all kinds of strokes swing back slowly with your left shoulder down and the forefinger of your right hand well down the club. ever have your eye upon the ball, and finish every stroke to the very end. in all your strokes let your arms go well out from your body. your hands should be close together on your club and the right hand well round to the left but not under the club. press the ground with your feet and stand well back upon your heels. $hints on boxing.$--it is true that boxing has become associated with all manner of ruffianism, but it is true also that it is one of the most effective forms of physical exercise, and that low life and brutality need no more enter into this pastime than into cricket. all the muscles are exercised, and dexterity, nimbleness, prompt decision, quickness of sight and many other admirable qualities are promoted. the right arm is held across the body so as to protect the pit of the stomach. the elbow of the left arm is held to the side. this position enables the boxer to hit from the shoulder, an important matter in boxing. the right leg bears most of the weight of the body, an arrangement which permits rapid movement backwards and forwards as occasion demands with a minimum of exposure. the left side should be towards your antagonist, the left hand has the principal part of hitting allotted to it, the right stops, parries, and at close quarters hits too. study all these things carefully before a mirror, noting what parts are exposed and the manner in which the exposure may be remedied. throw your head well back, and watch your opponent's eyes, for there you get the earliest indication of his intentions, and therefore you are able to make your arrangements for circumventing his plans. when you strike let it be from the shoulder and with all the weight of your body pressing the right foot upon the ground and making a kind of spring. do not draw back your hand to make a stroke, because that gives your adversary warning. come upon him unawares and then recover your position immediately. generally the time to strike is when your left toe is level with his heel, but if his reach is longer or shorter than yours this rule may need modification. remember that a curved blow is longer on its way than a straight one. if your adversary strikes at your face or the upper part of the chest, do not retreat from the blow, but fling your right arm sharply outwards and upwards, catching your opponent's arm by the wrist, and throwing it out of the direction in which it was aimed. this generally lays open your opponent's head, and gives opportunity for a smart return blow with the left hand; it is then near his head, and has only a short distance to go. this return blow is called the "counter," and is very effective, as it arrives when your opponent is expecting to give rather than receive a blow. this plan of campaign may be practised before a mirror. "stopping" comes in where this parry is impracticable. if your adversary strikes at your body you must either get away, stop, or suffer the blow in hopes of being able to hit him in return. in stopping you receive the blow on your arm, and break its force. chapter vii on the ice $figure skating.$--as soon as the skater has gained confidence and can skate in the ordinary way, he should begin to master the art of skating upon the outside edge. put upon the ice a small stone, piece of wood, or any other object to serve for a centre. from this stand three yards with your right side towards it. leaning a little in the direction of this centre and pressing your weight upon the outer edge of the blade of the skate, push yourself round and round the centre with your left foot. then practise going round on the outside edge of your left skate in a similar way. difficult as these movements will be at first, they become easy like other hard tasks by practice, and they open the way to graceful figure skating. when the two circles have been mastered it is quite easy to cut a figure $ $ upon the ice. begin on the outside edge of the right skate as though you meant to go in a circle, but allow your left foot to hang behind your right foot. there it will act as a kind of weight, your body will tend to swing round and you will cut the second part of the $ $ travelling backwards, and upon the inner edge of the skate. the impetus gained in cutting the first part of the figure will carry you to the end. going in the other direction cut another $[| ]$ with your left foot, and when you can do these you are on the high road to complete success as a skater. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $sailing on skates.$--boys who are so fortunate as to live where there is a large sheet of ice will find much fun in sailing. if you have the money the draper will supply you with calico, or sheeting, or other similar material, two yards wide, and a journey to the joiner will be necessary, as we shall see. a b in figure is the yard made of wood, one and a half inches thick in the middle, tapering to each end to five-eighths of an inch. at c and d holes are bored for the lashings of the sail. e f is the sprit, and we get its length by measuring the boy who is going to use the sail from his neck to his ankles. this gives the length of the sprit, and the yard should be made twice as long. we have given the longest that the sprit should be. it may be shorter, and then, of course, the yard would be shortened in proportion. the sprit is tapered towards f and a hole is bored at g for lashings. the sprit is connected with the yard by what sailors call a crotch. we have given a representation of it in fig. . the cord is used to lash the sprit to the yard. c d g in fig. shows the sail. it is cut to allow a broad hem, and may be sewn rapidly with a sewing machine. a strong loop of tape or cord should be sewed at each corner of the sail c d g, and at the head of the sail, that is from c to d, eyelets should be made six inches apart. at each of these the sail is tied to the yard and also at g. a reference to figures , and will show how the sail is used, but practice will be needed and much studying of the effect of wind upon the sail before the art of sailing on skates has been mastered. a wooden rod may be attached to f, fig. . this will aid in the management of the sail, as is shown in figures and . $curling.$--like most other pastimes, curling is best learned when you are young. your good golfer, who "swipes" clean and clever from the tee, picked up that draw and swing which the able golfer so much prides himself upon, in youth. it is quite true that laddies in scotland first learn to skate; yet many of the best hands at "the roaring game" have learned to throw a "stane" ere fifteen. you cannot learn young enough at anything, a true sportsman will tell you. that little, bare-legged herd laddie, who sits on the banks of the ettrick or yarrow, will laugh at the middle-aged tyro who vainly tries to fling a fly where there is no fish lying. the young yachtsman gets his tiller hand in his first matches in an open boat; the trigger finger of the crack shot is made over his early successes at rooks or rabbits; and the good seat in the saddle on the back of the shetland pony; but our boys are ready for their _bonspeil_, which means _a good spell_ or game. before giving a description of an actual game, the writer will endeavour to give some idea of what curling is like. in germany it has been successfully introduced by sir edward malet, the english ambassador, and there is every reason to believe that in a few years it will take as strong a hold of the english people, as already golf has done. pennant, in his tour of the north ( ), writes of it as follows:--"of all the sports of these parts, that of curling is the favourite, and one unknown in england. it is an amusement of the winter, and played on the ice, by sliding from one mark to another great stones of from forty to seventy pounds weight, of a hemispherical form, with an iron or wooden handle at the top. the object of the player is to lay his stone as near the mark as possible, to guard that of his partner, which had been well laid before, or to strike his antagonist's." [illustration: the roaring game] "the game is played on a carefully-chosen piece of ice called the rink, which should be forty-two yards long, unless special circumstances, such as thaw, and consequently dull ice, require it to be shortened. this piece of ice should be as level, smooth, and free from cracks as possible. there is usually a trifling bias, which however to the skilled curler rather adds interest to the game, as it calls forth additional science in the play." [illustration: bringing down the stones] "when the rink is chosen, a little mark is made at each end. this is called the 'tee,' and near that point stands, in his turn, each player, whose object is to hurl or slide his stones to the opposite end by a swinging motion of the arm. each opponent also endeavours to place his stones nearer the tee than those of his opponents." so far for pennant's description of curling in the olden time. the old style, thanks to the edinburgh men, who play on duddingston loch, has long gone out. seventy pound stones would no longer be tolerated by any body of sportsmen affiliated under the royal caledonian curling club. in the olden times it seems, in some parts of scotland, notably in the south-west, to have been a game of strength rather than of skill, and the man who threw his huge block the farthest, and struck his opponent's stone from the tee, or "cock," was considered to be the superior player. the stones are not now much more than half this weight, and so highly are the soles polished that they slip along keen ice so much faster with slight exertion on the part of the player, that they pass the tee or mark altogether, and go clean off the rink. the rinks or sides have been chosen--four players, one of whom acts as skip or director. he is generally the ablest and most experienced curler, and equal to the responsible duty of guarding the winning shot, if in his favour, or securing it if against him, with his last stone. the rink, which is also the name of the diagram of the game, is drawn off according to the rules of the royal caledonian curling club, and carefully swept clear of all snow or hoar frost. the skip takes up his station at the tee, which is the innermost of a set of circles, known as the "hoose," no stone outside of the outer one counting in the actual score. sweeping scores are drawn for the guidance of the players; one down the centre, which practically is a sort of hockey arrangement, as you must stick to your own side of the rink. [illustration: preparing for the game] sweeping commences half-down, that is, at the centre of the forty-two yards between tee and tee, and can be carried on by the players' side up to the tee, when, if it still has a little impetus, the opposing skip will sweep it out of the house altogether. when this happens after a stone has been brought on when apparently lagging, it is generally greeted with what in parliamentary phrase would be called "opposition cheers and laughter." in this a skip may show very superior judgment, and order his men to desist from sweeping. at his words "up hands," brooms must be raised immediately. in front of the house or counting circle is the hog score. if stones are not thrown with sufficient force to be taken over this with the assistance of the sweepers they are shoved off the ice as dead. this is sometimes galling to a young player who, when it happens, as it does repeatedly happen on soft ice, is practically put out of the game. but the "crampits" have been adjusted. these are foot-boards, grated so that they hold firmly to the ice. on these both feet must be placed when the stone is delivered. the skip gives his directions to his first player to place him a stone on the near edge of the outer ring. why not exactly at the tee? because if there it would form a rest for the stone of his opponent and be forced out. our young player, who is wielding a beautifully polished pair of ailsa craigs, with a sweep or two of the ice does exactly what is wanted. his opponent is asked to play to the face of this stone. this he does, hurling it out and laying his own almost in its place. the next stone of the leading player fails to catch it, and goes away to the rear, dead. the fourth stone played effectually covers or guards the winner. the next pair of players give up their brooms to the leaders, and take up their position at the crampits. a gentle draw past guard and winning stone is counselled; and this is well executed, the brooms taking the stone to the very edge of the tee or centre circle. the next player fails to remove this, and being slow guards his opponent's stone. [illustration: soop her up] this is a piece of good fortune for the other side, who now have a second shot drawn by a very skilful player. the third pair of players cannot well get home and try to wick, and _curl in_ (from the latter expression we have _curling_). this is done by putting with a turn of the wrist a certain bias or screw, by means of the handle when the stone is being delivered. the position of the game is not changed when the skips lay aside their brooms. there is a little more than half of the winning shot visible through a port or channel. through this the skip, against whom the shot counts, threads his stone gently and easily and rubs the winner out. his opponent has no chance now, unless he rattles out the nearest guards. this he tries to do, but his opponent guards again, this time just across the hog score. a gentle draw, with an inner twist, might succeed. it is bravely attempted, but it is short a foot, and the leading skip claims one shot--victory for a well contested end. and so the game will last for twenty more heads, the winning rink being that which has the majority of shots. it is a happy, healthy game, not so well-known in england as it ought to be. in germany some enthusiasts have introduced it, and from the military-like character in which it is carried out, guarding and storming and knocking out occupants of the fortress, it is likely there to come greatly into favour. it is to be hoped that we may oft see the pond where, in the language of an old scottish curling poet-- "drawn are the rinks where lines and curves combine, the tee, the house, hog score and central line; the cramps are laid, the champions ready stand, with eye intent and trusty broom in hand." those who decide to include this game in their activities should put themselves into touch with the royal caledonian curling club through its honorary secretary, a. davidson smith, esq., at the headquarters of the club, york place, edinburgh. they will then be able to obtain the rules for the proper playing of this delightful game. chapter viii angling $hints by an old hand.$--when fishing in ponds, lakes, meres, canals, or in waters where there is no stream, the depth should be carefully taken the night before, or when ground-baiting, and marked on the rod, or by measuring the distance from the plummet to the cap of the float with a piece of cotton or string. if the angler prefers the bait to be within touch of the bottom, the better plan is to use a self-cocking float, and always use the finest possible tackle in clear water; but if an ordinary float be employed, and the novice wishes the bait to lie six or eight inches on the bottom (a good plan), the lowest shot should be from in. to in. from the hook. this will neither interfere with the proper cocking of the float nor with the angler striking, for, from the moment the fish seizes the bait to the indication of a bite, the resistance of (at most) two or three small shots is infinitesimal. if the bottom be at all muddy, then the plummet should be as light as possible, or into the ooze it will sink, and when this is known to be the case, the depth may be obtained by the aid of a small pellet of bread and bran. should it drop off the hook before the depth is obtained, the pellet should be made a little stiffer. a piece of "tea lead" from a tea-chest, or lead wire, similar to that used on the gut in lea fishing (some use nothing else), may be carefully tied round the bottom of the float, to make it cock without using any shots on the tackle, and painted the same colour as the float, or, failing this, the usual self-cocking float sold at the tackle-shops may be used. gentles should be kept in plenty of damp sand for a few days in an earthenware pan, biscuit-tin, or tin pail, in a cellar, or any dark, cool place, when they will be ready for use. the sides of the pan or tin should not be allowed to get wet, or many of the gentles will make their escape. they should be kept in what is termed golden sand. this sand, which should be damp, is almost as fine to the touch as barley-meal, of a deep rich golden colour, and they will live in it for days without turning into the chrysalis state, which they do in a comparatively short time if exposed to the sun--a practice to which many anglers are addicted, and then wonder the gentles change colour. it is a great mistake to use silver sand, as it over-scours and makes them attenuated and hard. i have repeatedly seen them in this state. so much for sand. the finest gentles i ever saw were obtained from the best rump steak and a sheep's head, and kept in coarse bran; but for taking out the black steck or "saddle-back" near the head, and scouring them until perfectly white, give me the sand mentioned above and plenty of it. the weight floats required may be arranged and tested before they are wound on the winder for final use. this saves the beginner considerable time and trouble at the water-side. if he has a four-line winder, with lines already weighted or shotted for roach, perch, bream, tench, so much the better. a piece of cork about the size and shape of a tonquin bean attached to the line may sometimes be used with success for fishing-swims, within easy distance from the side, in smooth clear water, near patches of weeds, flags, or candocks, the angler taking great care to keep out of sight, and to be as still as possible. when the bean-like piece of cork goes under or runs, strike gently. never use long-shanked hooks (the well-known crystal roach hooks, for instance) for such baits as gentles, cockspur, or small worms, small pellets of paste, wheat and malt. a considerable portion of the shank is certain to become bare in a short time, and so prevent the fish from biting. i have repeatedly seen nearly the whole shank of a crystal hook bare, and the small worm, gentles, and more especially a grain of creed wheat, dangling from the bend as a kidney might from a butcher's hook; and i have an idea that no fish properly constituted would be stupid enough to be caught under such absurd conditions. i may just mention in passing, that when fishing with gentles, the last one put on the hook should have the point to come through the skin of the thick or tail end, and the twirling thin or head end to hang clear of the hook. one gentle on a no. or hook will often do the trick, when they won't look at a bunch of gentles. use as small hooks as possible. they will hook a fish, or for the matter of that, get fast into almost anything, much quicker than large hooks: they penetrate sooner, hold very fast, and pierce the lips of such fish as trout, perch, chub, barbel, carp, when a large hook would not. for instance, the other day i hooked a lb. barbel in the centre of the upper lip with a no. sneck-bend, and it was quite a job to extract it. i once saw four splendid chub, all caught with similar hooks; and on several occasions i have caught good perch with roach hooks. if the novice will only remember not to allow slack line when playing a good fish on a small hook, provided the tackle is good and strong, a fish should seldom escape. beginners often use hooks three times too big for the fish they are after, and it goes without saying, that the smaller the hook the finer the gut should be; for a small hook on thick, coarse gut is not to be thought of. on the other hand, never use a too small hook for too large a pellet of paste, with the hook embedded in the centre, instead of the point just protruding. i have seen an angler fishing under these conditions for chub with cheese paste miss five fish out of six, the damson-like pellet being pulled clean out of the mouth of the chub, without the slightest chance of hooking the fish. we will now supplement what our "old hand" has told us by other hints. $bait and other matters.$--we shall not occupy space discussing rods, and such things. each boy settles these questions for himself, in accordance with the money he can spare, after a talk with the dealer and a contemplation of his wares. such accessories as landing nets he leaves generally until he is grown up, and manages very well without them. he may, however, provide himself with a clearing ring and line, because he is likely to feel the need for these often. this useful clearing tackle consists of a number of yards of strong cord, to the end of which is fastened a heavy ring of lead or brass. if the hook should get fast in a weed or anything else, this ring is put over the butt of the rod, and allowed to slip down the line to the hook. the rod should be held in the right hand, the top pointing downwards, the clearing-line in the left; the ring falling on the hook from its weight usually clears the hook. if not, the angler should grasp the rod firmly, and draw the line sideways, and break away. in this case, he seldom loses more than a hook; but without the use of a clearing-line he frequently loses his float as well as his hook and line, and sometimes breaks his rod. the brass clearing-rings are best, because they are jointed, and can be used when the angler has a reel on his rod. an old angler advises that after the young fisherman has made choice of a place to fish, he should first plumb the depth truly, and with as little disturbance to the water as may be. if the water be still throw in small pieces of ground bait; if there is a strong current large pieces. keep as far from the water as you can, and go slily to work, for even the shaking of the bank will frighten some of these fish. the bait should be dropped into the water quietly. stand as far from the edge of the water as possible, and never let your shadow fall upon the water. when it is possible hide behind a bush or a tree. in baiting a hook insert the point of the hook near to the top of the worm's head, and carry it down to within a quarter of an inch of its tail. to do this you must work up the worm with your left thumb and finger, while with your right you are gradually pressing the hook downwards. if too much of the worm hangs loose the fish will seldom take the whole in their mouth, and will not be hooked. to bait a hook well with a worm is necessary to ensure catching a fish when you strike; and it consists in drawing the worm without injuring it quite over and up the shank of the hook, leaving only a small lively part of the tail below. if you bait with half a worm, choose the tail end, and insert the point of the hook into the top part, and bring it down nearly to the end of the tail, leaving only a very small piece of it free. if you bait with two worms on the same hook, draw the first up above the shank, and put the second on in the same manner as directed with one worm, but insert the hook near the tail of the second worm; then draw the first one down on the second over the shank of the hook. red worm.--found with the brandling but not so common. at their best in tan heaps, but are found also in the banks of ditches and sewers. marsh worms.--known also as blue heads. found in marshes at night, especially after rain. a good bait for gudgeon, trout, perch, bream, and grayling. tag tail.--tail has a yellow tint. found in fields in moist spring weather. often preferred when the water is muddy, especially for trout. water worms.--found in sedges and at the bottom of dock roots. turn up the long slimy moss on weirs for them. they are of a clear bluish white, occasionally very light purple, becoming red at the head. fish eat them voraciously. ash grub.--look for these in the bark of trees. they are good for grayling, dace, roach, or chub. cow dung bait.--from may to the end of september these may be found under cow dung. they are eaten by roach, chub, grayling, and dace. gentles.--the usual term, used in angling, for maggots. putrid meat, especially liver, will produce them. they may be obtained from butchers or fell-mongers. good for most fish. lob worm.--sometimes called the dew worm, or the wachel. it is the ordinary large garden worm. dig for them if they are needed at once. if wet straw is strewed upon the ground for a couple of days they will come to the surface. in the evenings they come out, and a quiet search with a lantern in gardens, or church-yards, or on lawns will discover them. they are useful for trout, eels, large perch, barbel, chub, and salmon. brandling.--search for these in chaff pits, old heaps of compost, rotten tan, sweepings, manure of all kinds and tanners' bark. good for trout, grayling, carp, bream, and indeed for almost every fish. miscellaneous baits.--cockchafer, black or evening beetle, grasshoppers, moths, may-flies, caddis worms, bees, caterpillars, wasp-grubs, baked for half an hour, paste made of bread or cheese. ground bait.--in addition to the bait upon the hook the angler usually strews what is known as ground bait, and so attracts the fish to where he is angling. it is chiefly by the judicious use of ground baits, and by fishing at a proper depth, that one angler is more successful than another, although fishing with the same baits and within a few yards of each other. if a place can be ground baited frequently fish begin to come there regularly for food. care must be taken not to glut the fish, and the bait upon the hook ought to be more attractive than the bait flung into the stream. the ground bait most in use includes bran mixed with clay, and made into balls of about the size of a pigeon's egg. if the current is strong a stone in the ball may be needed. another ground bait is made by cutting the crust from a loaf. then cut the loaf into slices each about two inches thick. put these slices into a deep vessel of water, and when the bread has been well soaked squeeze it until it is nearly dry. add bran and knead the whole until the mixture is as stiff as clay. this is well adapted for still waters. another ground bait is made of barley-meal one part, mashed potatoes three parts, stiff clay two parts, worked thoroughly well together, but better even than this is one composed of stiff clay with as much bran as it will hold without destroying its stickiness. at the water side separate pieces about the size of the egg of a goose, into which stick a few worms and gentles. as these drop from the dissolving clay they are seized on by the fish, who continue to wait in the expectation of more, and are thus ready to take the angler's bait, especially if it is more tempting than the ground bait. boiled malt, barley, wheat, and such things, mixed with coarse sand to sink them also answer the purpose. $trout-fishing.$--in the easter holidays boys are apt to find it difficult to decide just what to do. football is nearly over, cricket is hardly in. it is still somewhat early for bird-nesting, except for rooks, and perhaps blackbirds and thrushes. just at this juncture the obliging trout come into season, and best of all, are ravenously hungry. now is the time for the beginner to try his hand with the deceitful fly. do not be discouraged, even if you have made a dismal failure of it last august. in the summer holidays it requires a practised hand to take trout with fly; but in april on a moorland stream a boy may go out and actually have some success on his first attempt. it will be wiser, certainly, to practise a little first, in your own garden, with all the tackle except the fly. by "tackle" i don't mean necessarily a glittering rod, fresh from the shop, with a brilliant winch and gaudy fittings. it is well to get all these things if you can afford them, though they should be toned down before using; but want of money need not prevent a boy from trying his hand at trout-fishing. a long willow wand, or even a hazel stick will throw a fly if properly managed; and running tackle is not an absolute necessity, though in every respect advantageous. the only things that must be bought are the hooks, and these are very cheap, as most boys know. for this time of year your flies should be march browns and blue uprights, and need not be tied on very fine gut. the outfit that is required then need cost but a few shillings, but if you can spare more get a small fishing-basket, and a fly-book, with a stock of flies. thus equipped and with good boots you may fish for weeks without needing to visit a shop. in order to learn how to throw a fly you should persuade a friend to show you the way he does it. this need not be at the river, nor need you tax your friend's time to any great extent. after you have once learnt the knack practice only is required to enable you to throw a fly fairly, though it may be years before you can do so well. this preliminary trial (during which you will have wound the line round your neck a few times) being over, you can go with some confidence to the stream. arrived at the bank, don't peer over to see whether there are any trout, because if you do there won't be any--at least, not after you have shown yourself. if convenient, make for a point some distance down-stream, and work upwards. by this plan you will have a chance of circumventing the trout, even if the water be clear, and not rough. in rough or coloured water these tactics are not necessary, and, in fact, it is as well, because much easier, to fish down-stream under such circumstances. let us take first the case of clear water, not very rough. keep back from the edge and stoop a little, taking advantage of any cover, even the stump of a thistle. watch for a rise, and, if possible, throw your fly lightly a little above it, and let it float down over the fish. should the fish be extra silly he may take your fly, and then you must strike, as in bait-fishing, but with less force. if you are fishing a northern stream, or a devon or cornwall brook, you will find it worth while to go on casting even if you see no rises; but on hampshire, or other slow running rivers, the usual plan is to wait for a rise. but this style of fishing, though practised with some success by the lucky fellows who are in winchester school, is not altogether suited for the restless nature of a boy. to return to the fish which has taken your fly. being a little one (for nothing large would be so silly), he will give you little trouble to land. take care, though, to guide him down-stream; which, being below him, you can easily do. lift him out as quietly as you can, and lose no time in getting your flies on the water once more. i say flies, because you will find it best to use two in ordinary fly-fishing. the upper fly, or "bob," as it is called, should be two feet or more from the tail, and should only have about three inches of gut attached to it, so that it may stick out nearly at right angles with the line. it should be fastened to a knot in the gut, so that it may not slip up and down. there are several ways of fastening it on, but they cannot be fully explained without diagrams, and a boy of any ingenuity can easily find out for himself. the plan most commonly adopted, that of looping it on, though it is not so neat as a knot, has the advantage of permitting the fly to be changed easily--a great point when the trout are fickle. [illustration] having landed your first trout, do not try again in the same place, but work gradually upwards, trying every likely pool and eddy; but not casting more than two or three times in one place. if you succeed in getting two or three little trout on your first attempt in clear water you may think yourself lucky. in april 'tis likely enough you may find the water coloured and high. if it is in flood, or approaching to it, of course the worm or minnow should be used; but of these anon. we will suppose the stream to be but little above its usual level, and of that rich brownish colour so dear to the heart of the angler. doubtless a worm or a minnow might still succeed; but a fly will give abundant sport, and that without requiring a high degree of skill. your mode of procedure need not now be so cautious as before described; and, in fact, you will find down-stream fishing often best in a coloured water. throw, then, a long line right across the stream, near the edge of which you can safely show yourself, and work your flies across and towards you, striking smartly at any rise. you will often miss, for in down-stream fishing a strike tends to pull the fly out of the fish's mouth, besides which the trout, on touching the surface, having his head towards you, is apt to get a sight of your rod, and to rise "short." if the weather and water are both favourable for down-stream fishing, you will have lots of rises, and some of the fish at least will fasten, so that you have a chance of getting a dozen or so on a good day, even before you have acquired any great skill. the best fly for thick water i have found to be the soldier palmer, a red fly with gold twist, but it will not always succeed. a march brown, or a blue upright, or blue palmer with silver twist, may also be useful. remember that the thicker the water the larger and more gaudy the fly may be. we have to consider the chance of the water being too thick for fly. then either minnow or worm will answer, the former in moderately thick water, and the latter in an absolute flood, unless the water is like pea soup. the minnow is used on a short line, with a longish rod. it requires considerable skill, and cannot be practised with safety in strange water by the beginner, or the minnow will constantly be getting lost by fouling snags. as minnows are expensive, this is a bad sort of sport for a boy with limited pocket-money. it is a favourite, however, with the professional angler in the north, and _he_ doesn't lose his minnows. it is a treat to see one of these gentry spin a rough run with his minnow, and take two or three good trout where an amateur would do nothing but lose tackle. the best way to learn to spin a minnow is to watch an old hand do it; but if the stream you fish is free from snags you might find it worth while to try to learn without such teaching. if so, be careful to keep the tip of the rod near the water, and, using a short line, to spin your minnow near the surface. if you get a run don't snatch your minnow away, but keep it steadily on. very likely the trout may bite short, but there is always a good chance that one of the revolving hooks may catch his jaw. if you do hook a fish get him out quickly, for your tackle being stout (as it must be for minnow-fishing) will bear the strain of anything short of a snatch. to turn to worm-fishing. it is, of course, comparatively easy to get a few fish with a worm, but it takes a practised hand to take a basketful, even from thick water. a couple of shot will generally be enough, and they should be about a foot from the hook, which should be large, unless you use the stewart tackle, which consists of two or three small hooks. a small marsh worm is considered best, but a brandling or a red worm will answer; or in a flood the tail half of a lob worm. the worm should be kept rolling along the bottom of fairly swift water, where the soil is gravelly; and a little time should be given when you feel a bite. in this way not only are large trout often taken in a flood, but sea trout, grilse, and sometimes salmon. a delicate hand is the chief requisite; but much judgment is also required in deciding which pools to fish, and when to shift your ground, according to the rising or falling of the water. there is a sort of worm-fishing which is very different from the kind just described. the tackle used is much finer, and the method altogether different. for as it is practised in the clearest water and in the hottest weather, it is necessary to take great care not to be seen, and to avoid the slightest possible disturbance of the water. a very small red worm is used on one or two tiny hooks, and the boy who can take good trout in this way is as much a skilled angler as any fly-fisher can claim to be. $fishing for roach.$--most boys know what a roach is like, so it will be enough by way of description to say that it is a fish of the carp tribe, of a silvery colour, and covered with scales. its fins are of a pale, pinkish grey, and its mouth is small and soft, suited best for vegetable food. the roach grows sometimes to two pounds in weight, but in most rivers one pound is considered large, whilst in ponds the fish seems to deteriorate, and swarms of little roach are generally to be seen, but very few fish of over a quarter of a pound. in rivers roach should not be killed unless they are seven or eight inches long; but in ponds, where they are very numerous, it is best to keep all that are caught. more food is thus left for the remainder. the roach spawns in may, and is, therefore, out of condition from the end of april till june or july. it is fattest and most healthy in autumn and winter, and when caught from a clear river will be found fairly good eating. pond roach taste muddy; but before we bring our fish to table we must learn how to catch it. the rod should be long, light, and stiff. white cane is best, but is very dear; and the rods now to be had at many tackle-makers for three or four shillings will answer nearly as well. they are of japanese make, and have no metal on them, which makes them light and cheap, though less durable than the expensive english rods. for the line, if roach only are expected, nothing is better than good single horse-hair. if there are large carp about, fine gut will be better; but carp do not feed after october. in any case, it will be found convenient to have a few inches of fine plaited silk for that part of the line which is next the rod. the float should be as small as can conveniently be used, and if the fish are very shy, a little rough bit of stick is sometimes preferable. a porcupine quill is generally best, and just enough shot to sink it within a quarter of an inch, or less, of the surface should be put on the line. one of the shot should be placed within six inches of the hook, and the rest about a foot higher. the hook should be of fine wire and about no. . it is important to see that the hair or gut on which this is tied is perfectly round and clear. with regard to baits, the very best are wasp-grubs; but these are often unobtainable, and gentles (the maggots of the friendly bluebottle) answer fairly well. a cleaner and pleasanter bait to use is paste, made from bread one day old. this should be dipped in water, and then quickly squeezed dry with clean hands, or in a cloth. in some rivers--the ouse for instance--boiled wheat is a very good bait. in order to find the depth, use a little roll of lead, called a plummet. this should be attached to the line, close to the hook, by being partly unrolled, to admit the hook, and then fastened again; and the depth should be plumbed as soon as the tackle is ready, and before bait is prepared. the operation necessarily disturbs the fish, and time must elapse before they will feed. it is desirable to keep well away from the water while putting your rod together, and, if possible, even while fishing. many roach fishers carry a light square box, or basket, which serves for a seat. these anglers will sit still for hours, patiently waiting for the roach to come on; they are often very successful. when a roach is hooked, the angler retains his seat, and in order to bring the fish to the net, will remove the butt and second joint of the rod. this is also done when rebaiting. it is the great length of the rod and the shortness of the line that makes this necessary. but to return to the method of fishing: the depth being ascertained, the float should be so placed that the bait will just touch the bottom at the shallowest part of the swim, and only a foot of line should be used between the float and the top of the rod. calm weather is best for roach-fishing, as it is easier to see the bites; but if there is a gentle wind from south or west, sport is often good. in summer, evening is much the best, but at this time of year roach will often feed all day. let us suppose that you start fishing on a calm afternoon in february or march, and on reaching the river, which is free for fishing, wonder where to begin. it is lined with rushes, but here and there are gaps, and on the banks at some of these points you notice scraps of ground-bait on the ground, and you also see that the grass is trampled and worn. this shows that anglers have found the spot a good one. seat yourself, or stand quietly near one of these points, and put your rod together. then attach your line and plummet as described, and when all the rest is ready put in a little ground-bait, some yards above your swim. chewed bread will do if you have no bran to mix with it. if your tackle is in order, and the roach are there, you will have a nibble before many minutes; but at this stage of your education it is useless to strike at nibbles. keep on the alert, and you will find that if you can manage to strike as the float is sinking, when a bite occurs, you will hook your fish; not otherwise. a gentle jerk is enough, as your little hook is sharp, and the roach's mouth soft. violence risks breaking the line, and in any case disturbs the fish unduly. if the roach is of good size, remember that your tackle is weak, and play your fish carefully; and don't attempt to get it out, whether with net or otherwise, till quite exhausted. even if you have only a small fish it is well to land him gently, or you will scare others. when placing the line do not flop it in, but let it sink bait first, and be prepared for a bite the moment the float cocks, for the first few seconds are the best. there is also a good chance at the end of the swim. if there is a stream the top of your rod must follow the course of the float. the rule, as to only a foot of line above the float, may be relaxed if the swim is long, for to walk along is most undesirable; it scares the fish by shaking the banks. you should stand still, or better sit still while roach-fishing. even this rule has many exceptions. if, for instance, the stream is very rapid, the saving in time effected by following your float may more than compensate for the disturbance caused by your footsteps. in swift or flooded streams fish are less easily scared than when the water is quiet. under these circumstances a worm is often better bait than paste, or even than gentles. again, in clear water which is swift and not deep it may be desirable to let out line by using running tackle. in this way you may reach fish which are too shy to let you get within casting distance of them. the nottingham anglers are particularly expert at this sort of fishing, and use rods and reels which are specially adapted for it. they are very successful on their own river, the trent, and have introduced their style on the thames, and even the lea, and have sometimes taken fish when ordinary fishing was useless. they are very skilful in casting from the reel without unwinding any line first; but many different circumstances must be studied before the sort of fishing most effective can be chosen. rules are very necessary; but the young angler will soon find that the most important thing is to find out when the exceptions, which are so numerous and important, come in. this can best be learnt by careful study of the habits of the fish, carried on patiently, day after day, at the water-side. $the fishing season.$--on june th the "close" time comes to an end, and boys may fish in free water for any kind of fish, from bleak to barbel. if we have had a very genial spring, many fish will have finished spawning and be getting into condition, so that there will be no harm in taking advantage of legal permission, and beginning to fish as soon as opportunity occurs. it will be found that many fish, especially chub and dace, can be caught much better at this season by flies, either natural or artificial, than by the usual float and shot system. a common house fly, used either on the top of the water or sunk by a single shot, will be found very effective, both for these fish and for roach, rudd, and bleak. chub will take any large insect readily, if it is presented to them in an artistic manner--that is, in such a way that they can see little of either tackle or angler. on some parts of the lea the wooded banks and deep holes afford capital chances for dapping for chub--a kind of fishing in which a boy with some patience and ingenuity should be very successful. no cumbrous tackle is required, only a long, light, and stiff rod, and two or three yards of medium gut, ending in a foot or two of finer stuff, with a largish hook, about no. or . running tackle would seldom be of use, as the awkward places, overgrown by bushes, in which the best chub are usually hooked, make it very desirable to keep your line short. if the chub run large (two pounds or more), you will have to use stout tackle, or even carry a landing net. if you have a bamboo rod, which is hollow throughout (through the knots), it is a good plan to pass the line through the middle, instead of the rings. in this way one disadvantage of using running tackle is avoided--the rod can be pushed through bushes, etc., without entangling the line. another and more lively plan for chub catching is to whip for them with the artificial fly; and in this case running tackle is, of course, necessary. in the shallower parts of the rivers you will get more dace and bleak than chub in this way, and very pretty sport it is, only second to trout-fishing. when you are trying for roach only, it is best to use a sunk fly, and to move it up and down very gently. you can feel the roach bite if you have a delicate hand, but if you find this difficult put on a small gentle with the fly. this can be seen at a considerable depth, and will disappear, of course, when the roach takes the fly. it also forms an additional attraction, and at a pinch will do alone; but i have found the house fly generally more effective. single hair is best for your line, unless you see large chub cruising about, which is often the case. in this sort of fishing you can generally watch your quarry, and you have to be very careful that they do not see too much of you. it will be found far more interesting than regular bottom-fishing, and requires more thought and more resource for its successful prosecution. among the insects most useful for bait, the grasshopper stands (or jumps) pre-eminent, but is not often obtainable much before july. the cow-dung fly has a brilliant yellow colour, which is very fascinating to roach; and the green caterpillar (to be obtained by tapping the boughs of oaks) is almost irresistible, especially to trout. the oak-fly, called also "the up and down fly," from the position it always assumes on the oak trunk, is equally attractive, and no doubt would be appreciated also by other fish. the hottest and calmest weather is best for this sort of fishing, as it is usually worst for the other sorts. in case the day should be windy or otherwise unsuitable for dapping, and yet the season too early to fish the deeps, a good plan is to put on a very small quill float, and one shot; and, using a no. or hook and a single gentle, to fish the shallow gravelly runs from as great a distance as you can manage. the "nottingham" method is very useful for this purpose. this consists in using a free running wooden reel, and a light line, and throwing from the reel. it is difficult, but very useful on open rivers, where fishing fine and far off is essential. of course, you have to fish down-stream by this method, and will often miss your fish when striking; but that is better than getting no bites--the usual result of fishing under your nose at this time of year. occasionally you may get hold of a barbel in this way, when using gentles for bait; and, if so, it will not be easy to land him, though he is not so strong now as he would be later on. bream-fishing will be coming on before long, and the early boy will get the bream. before sunrise is the best time, and for this fish-tackle of a different sort is required. a strong rod with rings is useful, and the gut and reel line may be stout. if the water is deep, use a long float and fairly heavy lead, and fish on the bottom with a worm (a small lob by preference) on a large hook. put in ground-bait, over-night if possible, and lose no time when fishing. a three-pound bream can be got out in two minutes, and twenty or thirty may thus be had in an hour or two of early morning, and, perhaps, not another all day, though in the norfolk broads i've known the bites continue till mid-day. roach-fishing proper is not in season till august, and has been described in these pages. jack should be let alone for a month or two yet, and perch are scarcely in order. in conclusion, let me suggest that all fish found to be out of condition should be gently returned to the water. chapter ix canoes and yachts to speak of canoes is to recall the name of john macgregor, m.a., the author of those delightful books _a thousand miles in the rob roy canoe on rivers and lakes of europe_; _the rob roy on the baltic_; _the voyage alone in the yawl rob roy_, and other interesting works. when the first of these was issued other people built canoes, the canoe club was formed with the then prince of wales, afterwards king edward the seventh, as commodore. macgregor was enthusiastic about canoes. when he contemplated his voyage of a thousand miles he concluded that "no row-boat would serve on a land-water voyage of this sort, for in the wildest parts of the best rivers the channel is too narrow for oars, or, if wide enough, it is often too shallow; and the tortuous passages, the rocks and banks, the weeds and snags, the milldams, barriers, fallen trees, rapids, whirlpools, and waterfalls that constantly occur on a river winding among hills, make those very parts where the scenery is wildest and best to be quite unapproachable in such a boat, for it would be swamped by the sharp waves, or upset over the sunken rocks, which cannot be seen by a steersman. "now these very things which bother the 'pair oar,' become cheery excitements to the voyager in a canoe. for now, as he sits in his little bark, he looks forward, and not backward. he sees all his course, and the scenery besides. with one sweep of his paddle he can turn aside when only a foot from destruction. he can steer within an inch in a narrow place, and can easily pass through reeds and weeds or branches and grass; can work his sail without changing his seat; can shove with his paddle when aground, and can jump out in good time to prevent a bad smash. he can wade and haul his craft over shallows, or drag it on dry ground, through fields and hedges, over dykes, barriers, and walls; can carry it by hand up ladders and stairs, and can transport his canoe over high mountains and broad plains in a cart drawn by a man, a horse, or a cow. "besides all this, the covered canoe is far stronger than an open boat, and may be fearlessly dropped into a deep pool, a lock, or a millrace, and when the breakers are high in the open sea or in river rapids, they can only wash over the deck of a canoe, while it is always dry within. "the canoe is also safer than a rowing-boat, because you sit so low in it, and never require to shift your place or lose hold of the paddle; while for comfort during long hours, for days and weeks of hard work, the canoe is evidently the best, because you lean all the time against a swinging backboard, and when the paddle rests on your lap you are at ease as in an arm-chair; so that, while drifting along with the current or the wind, you can gaze around, and eat or read, or sketch, or chat with the starers on the bank, and yet, in a moment of sudden alarm, the hands are at once on the faithful paddle ready for action. "finally, you can lie at full length in the canoe, with a sail as an awning for the sun, or a shelter for rain, and you can sleep at night under its cover, or inside it when made for that purpose, with at least as much room for turning in your bed as sufficed for the great duke of wellington; or, if you are tired of the water for a time, you can leave your boat at an inn--where it will not be 'eating its head off,' like a horse; or you can send it home, or sell it, and take to the road yourself, or sink back again into the lazy cushions of a first-class carriage, and dream you are seeing the world. "but it may well be asked from one who thus praises the paddle, 'has he travelled in other ways, so as to know their several pleasures? has he climbed glaciers and volcanoes, dived into caves and catacombs, trotted in the norway carriole, ambled on an arab, and galloped on the russian steppes? does he know the charms of a nile boat, or a trinity eight, or a yankee steamer, or a sail in the Ã�gean, or a mule in spain? has he swung upon a camel, or glided in a sleigh, or sailed a yacht, or trundled in a rantoone?' "yes, he has thoroughly enjoyed these and other modes of locomotion, fast and slow. and now having used the canoe in europe, asia, africa, and america, he finds the pleasure of the paddle is the best of them all. "the rob roy canoe was built of oak, with a deck of cedar. she was made just short enough to go into the german railway waggons; that is to say, fifteen feet in length, twenty-eight inches broad, nine inches wide, and weighed eighty pounds. my baggage for three months was in a black bag one foot square and six inches deep. a paddle seven feet long, with a blade at each end, and a lug-sail and jib, were the means of propulsion; and a pretty blue silk union jack was the only ornament." after the cruise the author had a better canoe constructed, shorter, and narrower (but with the same name), and in her he voyaged through sweden, norway and denmark, holstein, and some german waters. the account of this voyage is given in _the rob roy on the baltic_, th edition (low and marston). the later improvements of the canoe are described in that book, with woodcuts. the full description of a third canoe for sleeping in during a six months' voyage is given in _the rob roy on the jordan, nile, red sea, and gennesareth, a canoe cruise in palestine and egypt and the waters of damascus_, th edition, with eighty illustrations and maps (murray). a fourth canoe was used in the zuyder zee and among the isles of holland and the friesland coast; and the latest rob roy (number ) ran through the shetland isles and the orkneys, and scotch lakes. $the building of the rob roy.$--john macgregor has told us that among the many who are building canoes, there may be some persons who have undue expectations as to what such boats can do. now, the three kinds of canoes, for racing, for sailing, and for travelling, are quite distinct in their forms and capabilities. a long, narrow, light racing-canoe, with a long, spooned paddle, will attain great speed. a sailing-canoe with flat bearing, and some keel, will sail off the wind admirably. the "travelling-canoe" has to sail, to paddle, and to bear portage and rough handling. the endeavour to combine these three qualities in suitable proportions, without sacrificing more of any of them than can be well dispensed with, has led to the building of the canoe now to be described; and the new rob roy has been a great success. the old rob roy canoe, which made a voyage through france, germany, &c., was specially built for the purpose; and it is described in the book which gives an account of that journey. a more detailed description was given in the transactions of the institute of naval architects, but the numerous improvements suggested during that voyage, and in careful experiments afterwards, were embodied in the new rob roy, so that this novel, inexpensive, and healthful mode of travelling might be facilitated. the rob roy was designed to sail steadily, to paddle easily, to float lightly, to turn readily, and to bear rough usage on stones and banks, and in carts, railways, and steamers; to be durable and dry, as well as comfortable and safe. to secure these objects every plank and timber was carefully considered beforehand, as to its size, shape, and material, and the result has been most successful. in the efforts to obtain a suitable canoe for this purpose ready made, it was soon found that boat-builders might be proficient at the cabinet-makers' work of their calling, without any knowledge of the principles required for a new design, especially when sailing, paddling, and carrying had to be provided for at once, and the requirements for each were not understood, except by those who had personally observed them, and had known how to work the paddle as well as the saw and the plane. a canoe ought to fit a man like a coat; and to secure this the measure of the man should be taken for his canoe. the first regulating standard is the length of the man's foot, which will determine the height of the canoe from keel to deck; next, the length of his leg, which governs the size of the "well;" and then the weight of the crew and luggage, which regulates the displacement to be provided for. the following description is for a canoe to be used by a man feet high, stone weight, and with boots foot long in the sole. the rob roy is built of the best oak, except the top streak of mahogany, and the deck of fine cedar. the weight, without fittings, is lb., and with all complete, lb. lightness is not of so much consequence in this case as good line, for a light boat if crank, will tire the canoeist far more in a week's cruise than would a heavier but stiff craft, which does not strain his body at every moment to keep her poised under the alternate strokes of the paddle or the sudden pressure of a squall on the sail. [illustration: fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. _scale of figs & . / of an inch to the foot._] the illustration on page represents, on a scale a quarter of an inch to the foot, fig. , a section, with masts and sails; fig. a bird's-eye view of the deck. the woodcuts at pages , represent, on a scale of an inch to the foot, figs. and , cross sections at the beam and at the stretcher; figs , , and , the backboard and the apron; the rest of the drawings showing particular portions more minutely. the principal dimensions are:--length over all, a s, feet; from stem to beam, b, feet inches; beam, outside ( inches abaft midships), inches; depth from top of deck at c, fore end of the well, to upper surface of keel, inches; keel, depth, outside, inch, with an iron band along its whole length, / inch wide; camber, inch; depth at gunwale, - / inches. the upper streak is of mahogany, and quite vertical at the beam, where its depth is inches. the garboard streaks, and the next on each side are strong, while the next two on each side are light, as it is found that they are less exposed than the others, particularly in a canoe where all these lower streaks are of oak. the stem and stern posts project over deck, the canoe, if turned over, will rest on the upper edge of the combing, round the well, / inch deep, projecting / inch, of steamed oak, curved at the corners, and adding, by its angular position, very much to the strength of the deck about the well. the well is inches from c to d, and inches from e to f, so placed that d m is feet, and thus the beam of the boat being aft of the midships the weight of the luggage g, and of the masts and sails stowed forward, brings the boat to nearly an even keel. the additional basket of cooking-things at i (fig. ) brings her a little by the stern. for a boat without luggage the beam should be foot abaft midships to secure an even keel. [illustration: fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. ] the deck is supported on four carlines forward and three aft, the latter portion being thus more strengthened, because, in some cases, it is required to support the weight of the canoeist sitting on the deck with his legs in the water. each carline has a piece cut out of its end (see fig. ), so that the water inside may run along to the beam when the canoe is canted to sponge it out. the after edge of the carline at c is bevelled off (fig. in section), so as not to catch the shins of your legs. all the carlines are narrow and deep, to economize strength, and the deck is screwed to them with brass screws, so that it might be removed for internal repairs. a flat piece is inserted under the deck at the mast-hole h, which is also furnished with a flanged brass ring. the deck is so arched as to enable the feet to rest comfortably on the broad stretcher j (fig. ), the centre of it being cut down in a curve in order that the mast and sails, rolled together, may rest there when there is no luggage, and be kept under the deck, but above any wet on the floor. when there is luggage (as in this voyage) i usually put the mast and sails under the after deck. the cedar deck round the well at e f is firmly secured by knee-pieces, and the boat may thus be lifted up _by any part_, and may be sat upon _in any position_, without injury. the luggage for three months, weighing - / lbs., is carried in a black leather-cloth bag, foot by foot by inches deep (g, figs. and ). a water-tight compartment may be made by an after bulkhead, with a lid to open, so as to allow the air to circulate when on shore. the floor-boards, about feet long, rest on the timbers until, at the part below c (fig. ), they end at p p (fig. ), in notched grooves, which fit into short oak pieces m n, / inch thick, sloping forwards on each side of the keel o. their ends rest on the garboard streaks, and so lower the heels nearly inch below the level of the floor-board on the top of the timbers. the canoeist sits on the floor-boards, i prefer this to any cushion or mat whatever; but if a mat or cushion be used, it should be firmly fixed, especially in rough water. the canoeist's knees touch the combing and the apron boards, while his heels touch the keel. thus the dotted lines in fig. , from the stretcher to the deck, show how the shin-bones are supported in comfort, enabling the paddler to sit for hours together without straining. but comfort is additionally secured by my new kind of backboard, shown in figs. and , in section and elevation. this consists of two strips of oak, inches long, - / inches wide, and united by a cross piece at y, and another at x, the latter being grooved (fig. ) so as to rest on the top of the combing, and to oscillate with the movement of the canoeist's back, which is thus supported on both sides along the muscles, while the spine is untouched between the strips. the dotted line u (fig. ) is a strong cord passed round all (through a hole in the deck or two eyes), and this serves to keep the backboard in general upright, while it is free to vibrate, or, when on shore, to be closed down flat on deck or to be removed entirely in a moment by unloosing the cord. the use of this backboard is a leading feature of the canoe, and adds very much indeed to the canoeist's comfort, and, therefore, to his efficiency. the length and width of the oaken strips, and the width of the interval between them, ought to be carefully adjusted to the size and "build" of the canoeist, just as a saddle ought to fit a horse and its rider too. the paddle is feet long, flat-bladed, with a breadth of inches in each palm, which is copper-banded, and made of the best spruce fir, the weight being little over lbs. the spoon-shaped blade is better for speed, and a longer paddle is suitable for a racing-boat, but for a travelling canoe, where long paddling, occasional sailing, and frequent "shoving," require the instrument to combine lightness, straight edge, handiness, and strength, it is found that a short paddle is best for the varied work of a protracted voyage. leather cups have been usually employed on the wrists of the paddle to catch the dripping water, but round india-rubber rings look much better and answer every purpose, if placed just above the points where the paddle dips into the water in an ordinary stroke. these rings may be had for twopence, and can be slipped on over the broad blade. if necessary, two are used on each side, and they bear rough usage well, while if they strike the cedar deck, no injury is done to it. [illustration: fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. ] after numerous experiments, the following very simple plan has been devised for a waterproof apron, and its application at once removes one of the chief objections to canoes in rough water, as heretofore constructed. it is necessary to have a covering for the well which shall effectually exclude the water, and yet be so attached as not to hamper the canoeist in case of an upset, or when he desires to get out of the boat in a more legitimate manner. these desiderata are completely secured by the new apron, which is not permanently attached in any manner to the boat, but is formed as follows:-a piece of light wood, of the form in fig. , feet long and inches deep at the deepest part, is placed along each side of the deck vertically, so as just to rest against the outside of each knee of the canoeist, and then a piece of macintosh cloth (drab colour is best) is tightly nailed along and over these, so as to form an apron, supported at each side on z (fig. ), and sloping from the highest part forwards down to the deck in front of the combing, over which its edge projects inch, and then lies flat. the other or after end is so cut and formed as to fit the body neatly, and the ends may be tucked in behind, or, when the waves are very rough, they should be secured _outside_ the backboard by a string with a knot. when this apron is so applied, and the knees are in position, their pressure keeps the whole apron steady, and the splash of small waves is not enough to move it. in rough water i place a string across the end and round two screw nails on the deck; or an india-rubber cord run through the hemmed end, but best of all is a strip of wood bent across the deck with its ends under two screws or chocks. a button-hole at the highest point of the apron allows it to be supported on the waistcoat. when you have to get out on shore, or when sailing, it is usually best to stow the apron away, so that the legs may be turned into any desired position of ease. the apron i used in this tour had been perfectly fitted by myself to me and the boat. several others, a little like it (very little!), roughly made for other canoes, have, as might be expected, failed to give satisfaction. one important advantage of a canoe is the capacity for sailing without altering the canoeist's seat; and we shall now describe the mast and sails found by experience to be most convenient, after three masts had been broken and eight sets of sails had more or less failed. the mast is - / inches thick (tapering), and feet inches long, of which the part above deck is feet inches. the lug-sail k (fig. ), has a yard and a boom, each feet inches long, so that when furled the end of the boom and mast come together. the fore-leach is feet long, and the after-leach feet inches, giving an area of about square feet. the yard and boom are of bamboo, and the yard passes into a broad hem on the sail-head, while the halyard is rove aloft through a small boxwood block / inch long, and with a brass sheave, and through another (a brass blind pulley) well fastened on the side of the mast near the deck, so that the sail can be lowered and hoisted readily. the lower joint of a fishing-rod, feet inches long, is a spare boom. the tack end of the boom is made fast to the mast by a flat piece of leather, lashed to its upper part and to the mast, and so as to be free to swing in every direction; after many other plans had failed this was quite successful, and lasted through the whole voyage. no hole is made in the mast, and no nail or screw driven into it, for these are causes of weakness. two cord loops, about inches apart, near the mast-head, support the flagstaff, of bamboo-cane feet long, and with a silk flag inches by inches. when the mast is not used this flagstaff is detached and placed in the mast-hole, which it fits by a button inches wide, permanently fixed on the staff, the lower end of which rests in the mast-step. the halyard and sheet should be of woven cord, which does not untwist, and is soft to handle in the wet. the sheet when not in hand may be belayed round a cleat on deck on either side of the apron, where it is highest, and thus these cleats are protected from the paddle. for the sake of convenience the mast is stepped so far forward as to allow the boom to swing past the canoeist's breast when the sail is jibbed or brought over. this also allows the luggage-bag to be between the stretcher and the mast. thus the mast-hole h is at feet inches distance from the stem. the mast-step is a simple wedge-like piece of oak (see r, fig. ), made fast to the keel, and abutting on the garboard streak on each side, with a square hole in it for the foot of the mast. it may be thought that the mast is thus stepped too far forward, but the importance of having the sail free to swing, without lying against the canoeist's body, or getting entangled with his paddle, which is used in steering, is so great, that some sacrifice must be made to secure this point. however, it is found that the boat sails very well on a wind with this sail, if the breeze is strong; and in light breezes it is only expedient to sail with the wind well aft, when the jib can also be used. a canoe must have a strong, light, flexible painter, suitable for constant use, because a great deal has to be done by its means in towing on dull water, guiding the boat while wading down shallows or beside falls, lowering into lochs, hauling her over hedges, walls, locks, banks, and even houses; and raising or lowering her (with luggage in) to and from steamboats. the "alpine club" rope, used in the new rob roy, was found to be hard and "kinky" when wet, and the softer rope used in the old rob roy was far better. another kind of brown-tanned rope has been recommended. the painter should not be longer than twice the length of the boat. each end is whipped with wax-end, which sort of fine twine is also invaluable for all the other fastenings, as it never slips. the painter passes through a hole in the stem, and another in the stern-post, and is drawn tight to lie on deck in the lines ay and sy, fig. ; the slack of about four feet is belayed round the windward cleat and coiled outside, so that it may be seized instantly when you go ashore, or have to jump out to save a smash or an overset in a dangerous place. this mode of fixing and belaying the painter i adopted after numerous trials of other plans, and it is found to be far the best. the jib is a triangle of feet hoist and feet foot, the fore-leach fast by a loop, passing under the painter and over the stem; the head is fixed by a loop over the mast-head, and under the flagstaff button. thus the jib can be struck while the canoeist remains in the boat, by pushing off these two loops with his paddle. to set the jib, it is best to land. this is much more generally convenient than to have jib-tackle on the mast. (i have now discarded the jib entirely.) the sails are of calico, without any seam. this lasts quite well enough, dries speedily, and sets well, too, provided that care is taken to have it cut out with the selvage along the after-leach, and not along any of the other sides. inattention to this last direction simply ruins sails; and it cannot be too often repeated that the success of the six rob roy voyages could not be expected if great care had not been devoted to all these details. a good travelling canoe costing £ ought to last a long time, for it is not racked and pulled in pieces at every stroke, as a rowing-boat is. the paddle.--it has been said that the use of a canoe paddle must contract the chest, but this is certainly a mistake. if indeed, you merely dapple each blade of the paddle in the water without taking the full length of the stroke the shoulders are not thrown back, and the effect will be injurious; but exactly the same is true if you scull or row with a short jerky stroke. in a proper use of the paddle the arms ought to be in turn fully extended, and then brought well back, so that the elbow grazes the side, and the chest is then well plied in both directions. in very shallow water the paddle should be clasped lightly (turning the thumbs upwards then), so that if it strikes the bottom or a rock the hand will yield and not the blade be broken. the distance between the hands should be that of the breadth of the chest. one can tell a _tyro_ in a moment by seeing him with his hands two feet apart, and therefore with a shortened stroke or too long a paddle. great caution should be used when placing the blade in advance to meet a rock, or even a gravel bank, otherwise it gets jammed in the rock or gravel, or the boat overrides it. it is better in such a case to retard the speed rather by dragging the paddle (tenderly), and always with its flat side downwards, so that the edge does not get nipped. for long cruises lightness is the first necessity. an ounce more or less makes a great difference when you have to carry it with outstretched arms all day. my paddle weighs two pounds. a swivel crutch on deck on the quarter is used sometimes. in my shetland cruise i used a single paddle blade and steered by my feet acting on a light rudder by two cords. this plan has many advantages for a sailing cruise and general work, but it is not good for rapids. rudder.--for long sailing this is useful, and foot-lines should be used, or a rod to the yoke. i used the rod for sailing in the dutch cruise always. leeboards.--these may be made of wooden triangles one foot each way, hung at each side by two corners. the lee one is thus pressed against the gunwale, and acts well. centre-board.--when the "rothion" sailed across the english channel, the late hon. james gordon used a centre-board at my suggestion, and his rob roy thus furnished held her wind admirably. the centre-board might come up through a slit one foot long in the garboard streak (not through the keel) into a closed mackintosh bag, so that when raised it would turn to one side, and lie flat on the bilge within. the apron.--the canoeist soon finds that this is the most difficult part of the boat to arrange with perfect satisfaction. i have had more experiments and trouble and thought about the apron than upon any other part of the canoe's arrangements. a full wooden hatch does well for common work, but not for rough cruising. now and then the legs need "play," and if the hatch is rigid at the height thus needed, it is much too high in ordinary times; and it curbs the freedom for the arms near the deck, being also unwieldy for instant debarking in rapids, and for stowing away. the detached apron of the baltic pattern is wet in use. side pieces on deck to clutch the wooden cheeks kept out by a cane across the knees, and a permanent flap on deck, covering the fore end of the mackintosh, are great improvements. the jordan rob roy had a sheet mackintosh apron, with only a cane fixed in the combing to keep the apron off the knees. for her cruise she had under this apron six inches of the after part of wood. the loose breast flap and side flaps rolled up (usually) form a curved edging near the body. by lifting this hatch, and laying it forward, the whole apron is folded forward of the knees, and in one foot of space fore and aft. this plan is a complete success; and at last my apron is all right. when a single bladed paddle is used the apron is needed only in rough water, that is, one day in four. stretcher.--the form described with a cut in the "rob roy on the jordan," is a very great improvement. each foot has a light board abutting on the carline above and the timber below, so that ample room is given for the luggage bag, and much strength is combined with extreme lightness. sail.--many forms have been tried, but the club sailing matches have often been won by a lug sail. this rig is also the safest of all, and the boom can be detached from a hook on the mast to stow away. portable canoes.--a wooden canoe in four pieces is easily made, although somewhat heavy. the additional expense is soon saved, if the canoe is taken often by railway as a box. colonel bradford's india-rubber canoe packs up into a parcel five feet long, and one foot across. in the eastern trip a canoe in two pieces might have been readily carried on a horse, but the rob roy, undivided, was thus carried easily. berthon's collapsible boat company presented to me a charming collapsible canoe, nine feet long, and which is very cheap, safe, light, and can easily be carried in one hand. the shortest canoe in the club was the wharbe, feet inches long. but i have paddled the little "dingy" only eight feet long, which was carried aboard the rob roy yawl. i think feet the best length for a cruising canoe. i have designed a cork canoe in three pieces, five feet, four feet, and three feet long; the last to pack in the next, and both in the large middle one; weight about lbs. sun.--when there is a brilliant glare of the sun, and it is low, and directly in front, and the eyes are dazzled by its reflection on the water, a good plan is to direct the bow to some point you are to steer for, and then observe the reflection of the sun on the cedar deck of the boat. having done this you may lower the peak of your hat so as to cut off the direct rays of the sun, and its reflected rays on the water, while you steer simply by the light on the deck. caution.--when a great current moves across a river to a point where it seems very unlikely to have an exit, you may be certain that some unusual conformation of the banks or of the river bed will be found there, and caution should be used in approaching the place. this, however, is less necessary when the river is deep. weeds.--the ripple and bubbles among weeds are so totally different from those on free water that their appearance at a distance as a criterion of the depth, current, and direction of the channel must be learned separately. in general, where weeds are under water, and can sway or wave about, there will be water enough to pass--the requisite three inches. backing up stream against long weeds is so troublesome, and so sure to sway the stern round athwart stream, that it is best to force the boat forward instead, even if you have to get out and pull her through. paddling through rushes, or flags, or other plants, so as to cut off a corner, is a mistake. much more "way" is lost then by the friction than might be supposed. stores on the rob roy.--paddle, painter ( feet at first, but cut down to feet), sponge, waterproof cover, feet by feet inches, silk blue union jack, inches by inches, on a staff two feet long. mast, boom, and yard. lug sail, jib, and spare jib (used as a sun shawl). stretcher, two back boards, floor-boards, basket holding a mackintosh coat. for repairs--iron and brass screws, sheet copper and copper nails, putty and whitelead, a gimlet, cord, string, and thread, one spare button, needle, pins, canvas wading shoes (wooden clogs would be better); all the above should be left with the boat. black bag for months' luggage, size, inches by inches, by inches deep (just right), closed by three buttons, and with shoulder-strap. flannel norfolk jacket (flaps not too long, else they dip in the water, or the pockets are inverted in getting out and in); wide flannel trousers, gathered by a broad back buckle belt, second trousers for shore should have braces, but in the boat the back buttons are in the way. flannel shirt on, and another for shore. before me while writing this there are various head covers used in different tours, but for boating the straw hat is best of all. thin alpaca black sunday coat, thick waistcoat, black leather light-soled shoes (should be strong for rocks and village pavements), cloth cap (only used as a bag), collars, pocket handkerchiefs, ribbon tie, pairs of cotton socks (easily got off for sudden wading, and drying quickly on deck). brush, comb, and tooth-brush. testament, passport (scarcely needed now), leather purse, large (and _full_), circular notes, small change in silver and copper for frequent use, blue spectacles in strong case, book for journal and sketches, black, blue, and red chalk, and steel pen. maps, cutting off a six inch square at a time for pocket reference. guide-books and pleasant evening reading book. cut off covers and useless pages, and every page as read; no needless weight should be carried hundreds of miles; even a fly settling on the boat must be refused a free passage. medicine (rhubarb and court plaster), small knife, and pencil. $rocks and currents.$--even if a set of rules could be laid down for the management of a boat in the difficult parts of a river, it would not be made easier until practice has given the boatman that quick judgment as to their application which has to be patiently acquired in all athletic exercises. but the canoeist, who passes many hours daily in the consideration of the river problems always set before him, will feel some interest in this attempt to classify those that occur most frequently. steering a boat in a current among rocks is like walking on a crowded pavement, where the other passengers are going in various directions, and at various speeds. a great deal of practice, and lessons enforced by collisions, are needed to make a pedestrian _au fait_ in a crowd. but years of walking produce a certain power, which insensibly directs a man in his course and his speed. after this capacity becomes, as it were, instinctive, a man can walk briskly along fleet-street at four p.m., and, without any distinct thought about other people, or about his own progress, he can get safe to the end. indeed, if he does begin to think of rules or how to apply them, he is almost sure to knock up against somebody. nay, if two men meet as they walk through a crowd, and each of them "catches the eye" of the other, they will probably cease to move instinctively, and, with uncertain data to reason from, a collision is often the result. the importance of this subject of "boating instinct" will be considered sufficient to justify these remarks when the canoeist has by much practice at last attained to that desirable proficiency which enables him to steer without thinking about it, and therefore to enjoy the conversation of other people on the bank, or the scenery, while he is rapidly speeding through rocks, eddies, and currents. as the descent of a current among rocks resembles a walk along the pavement through a crowd, so the passage _across_ a rapid is even more strictly in resemblance with the course of a man who has to cross a street where vehicles are passing at uncertain intervals and at various speeds, though all in the same direction. for it is plain that the thing to be done is nearly the same, whether the obstacles (as breakers) are fixed and the current carries you towards them, or the obstacles (as cabs and carts) are moving, while you have to walk through them on _terra firma_. to cross park-lane in the afternoon requires the very same sort of calculation as the passage across the stream in a rapid on the rhine. we may divide the rocks thus encountered in fast water into two classes--( ) those that are _sunk_, so that the boat may possibly float over them, and which do not deflect the direction of the surface current. ( ) those that are _breakers_, and so deflect the current, and do not allow the boat to float over them. the currents may be divided into--( ) those that are equable in force, and in the same direction through the course to be steered. ( ) those that alter their direction in a part of that course. in the problems before the canoeist will be found the combinations of every degree and variety of these rocks and currents, but the actual circumstances he has to deal with at any specified moment may be generally ranged under one or other of the six cases depicted in the accompanying woodcut. in each of the figures in the diagram the current is supposed to run towards the top of the page, and the general course of the canoe is supposed to be with the current. the particular direction of the current is indicated by the dotted lines. the rocks when shaded are supposed to be _sunk_, and when not shaded they are _breakers_. thus the current is uniform in figs. , , ; and it is otherwise in figs. , , . the rocks are all sunk in figs. , , , and ; whereas in figs. and there are breakers. the black line in all the figures shows the proper course of the centre of the boat, and it is well to habituate oneself to make the course such as that this line shall never be nearer to the rock than one-half of the boat's length. the simplest case that can occur is when the canoe is merely floating without "way" through a current, and the current bears it near a rock. if this be a breaker, the current, being deflected, will generally carry the boat to one side. the steering in such cases is so easy, and its frequent occurrence gives so much practice, that no more need be said about it. but if the rock be a sunk rock, and if it be not quite plain from the appearance of the water that there is depth enough over the rock to float the boat, then it is necessary to pass either above the rock, as in fig. , or below it, as in fig. . a few days' practice is not thrown away if the canoeist seizes every opportunity of performing under easy circumstances feats which may at other times have to be done under necessity, and which would not be so well done then if attempted for the first time. let him, therefore, as soon as possible, become adept in crossing above or below a single sunk rock with his _boat's bow pointed to any angle of the semi-circle before him_. [illustration] next we have to consider the cases in which more than one rock will have to be avoided. now, however great the number of the rocks may be, they can be divided into sets of three, and in each of the figures , , , it is supposed that (for reasons which may be different in each case, but always sufficient) the canoe has to pass between rocks a and b, and then between b and c, but must not pass otherwise between a and c. in fig. the course is below b, and above c, being a combination of the instance in fig. with that in fig. . the precise angle to the line of the course which the boat's longer axis ought to have will depend upon what is to be done next after passing between b and c, and hence the importance of being able to effect the passages in fig. and fig. , with the axis at any required angle. we may next suppose that one of the three rocks, say b, as in fig. , is a breaker which will deflect the current (as indicated by the dotted stream lines), and it will then be necessary to modify the angle of the boat's axis, though the boat's centre has to be kept in the same course as before. it will be seen at once that if a were a breaker the angle would be influenced in another manner, and that if c were a breaker the angle at which the boat should emerge from the group of rocks would be influenced by the stream from c also; but it is only necessary to remind the reader that all the combinations and permutations of breakers and sunk rocks need not be separately discussed,--they may be met by the experience obtained in one case of each class of circumstances. fig. represents a _circular current_ over the group of three rocks. this is a very deceptive case, for it looks so easy that at first it is likely to be treated carelessly. if the boat were supposed to be a substance floating, but without weight, it would have its direction of motion instantly altered by that of the current. but the boat has weight, and as it has velocity (that of the current even if the boat is not urged also by the paddle so as to have "way" through the water), therefore it will have _momentum_, and the tendency will be to continue the motion in a straight line, instead of a curve guided solely by the current. in all these cases, therefore, it will be found that the boat _insists_ upon passing between a and c, where it must not be allowed to go (on the hypothesis we have started with), and if it effects a compromise by running upon c, that will be by no means satisfactory. this class of cases includes all those in which the river makes a quick turn round a rock or a tongue b, where the boundary formed by the rock a on the outer bend of the stream is a solid bank, or a fringe of growing trees, or of faggots artificially built as a protection against the erosion of the water. this case occurs, therefore, very frequently in some fast rivers, say, at least, a hundred times in a day's work, and perhaps no test of a man's experience and capacity as a canoeist is more decisive than his manner of steering round a fast, sharp bend. the tendency of the canoeist in such cases is always to bring the boat round by paddling _forward_ with the outer hand, thereby adding to the "way," and making the force of the current in its circular turn less powerful relatively. whereas, the proper plan is to _back_ with the inner hand, and so to stop all way in the direction of the boat's length, and to give the current its full force on the boat. repeated lessons are needed before this is learned thoroughly. the case we have last remarked upon is made easier if either a or c is a breaker, but it is very much increased in difficulty if the rock b is a breaker or is a strong tongue of bank, and so deflects the current outwards at this critical point. the difficulty is often increased by the fact that the water inside of the curve of the stream may be shoal, and so the paddle on that side strikes the bottom or grinds along it in backing. when the curve is all in deep water, and there is a pool after b, the boat ought not to be turned too quickly in endeavouring to avoid the rock c, else it will sometimes then enter the eddy below b, which runs up stream sometimes for fifty yards. in such a case the absurd position you are thereby thrown into naturally causes you to struggle to resist or stem this current; but i have found, after repeated trials of every plan i could think of, that if once the back current has taken the canoe it is best to let the boat swing with the eddy so as to make an entire circuit, until the bow can come back towards b (and below it), when the nose of the boat may be again thrust into the main stream, which will now turn the boat round again to its proper course. much time and labour may be spent uselessly in a wrong and obstinate contest with an eddy. in fig. , where the three rocks are in a straight line, and the middle one is a breaker, an instance is given when the proper course must be kept by _backing_ during the first part of it. we must suppose that the canoeist has attained the power of backing with perfect ease, for this will be quite necessary if he intends to take his boat safely through several hundred combinations of sunk rocks and breakers. presuming this, the case in fig. will be easy enough, though a little reflection will show that it might be very difficult, or almost impossible, if the canoeist could give only a forward motion to the boat. to pass most artistically, then, through the group of rocks in fig. the stern should be turned towards a, as shown in the diagram, and the passage across the current, between a and b, is to be effected solely by backing (and chiefly in this case with the left hand) until the furthest point of the right of the curve is reached, with the boat's length still as before in the position represented in the figure. then the forward action of both hands will take the canoe speedily through the passage between b and c. cases of this sort are rendered more difficult by the distance of c from the point above a, where you are situated when the instant decision has to be made as to what to do, and it would usually be imprudent to rise in the boat in such a place to survey the rock c. if it is evident that the plan described above will not be applicable, because other and future circumstances will require the boat's bow to emerge in the opposite direction (pointing to the right), then you must enter forwards, and must back between b and c, so as to be ready, after passing c, to drive forward, and to the right. it is plain that this is very much more difficult than the former case, for your backing now has to be done against the full stream from the breaker b. in all these instances the action of the wind has been entirely omitted from consideration, but it must not be forgotten that a strong breeze materially complicates the problem before the canoeist. this is especially so when the wind is aft; when it is ahead you are not likely to forget its presence. a strong fair wind (that has scarcely been felt with your back to it) and the swift stream and the boat's speed from paddling being all in one direction, the breeze will suddenly become a new element in the case when you try to cross above a rock as in fig. , and find that the wind carries you broadside on against all your calculations. as for sailing among rocks in a current, if the rapid is long the canoe must be directed solely by the paddle, and in short groups of rocks the course to be steered by a boat sailing is the same as if it were paddled, though the action of the wind has to be carefully taken into consideration. in all these things free boldness and skill come best after lessons of experience, and the canoeist will find himself ready and able, at the end of his voyage, to sail down a rapid which he would have approached very timidly, at the beginning, even with the paddle. but perhaps enough has been said for the experienced paddler, while surely more than enough has been said to show the tyro aspirant what varied work he has to do, and how interesting are the circumstances that will occupy his attention on a delightful river cruise. $the boy as yacht owner.$--boys who live near a sheet of water may like to know how to make--or to have made for them by a carpenter--a homely rough-hewn yacht. they may not be able to win the american cup with it, but they may have much fun on board, and it will be difficult to wreck. indeed, it is said to be impossible to upset a yacht of this pattern. the natives of south america use yachts of this build, and even go to sea in this kind of craft. we do not advise our readers to round cape horn or to cross the bay of biscay in a yacht like this, but on a lake or river they are not likely to come to grief. all the same, skill in swimming should precede boating of all kinds. a, b, c, d represent six pine logs, each one fourteen feet long and eight inches in diameter. the six joined together make a deck four feet wide. both ends of each log are roughly trimmed with an adze and underneath each log is bevelled along three feet of its length at each end. the middle eight feet of each log is thus left in its natural state, round and still bearing its bark; but three feet at each end of each log is trimmed to slope and taper towards its termination. e is four feet seven inches from the bow and represents a hole down to the water two inches wide and eighteen inches long. it is formed by cutting an inch away from each of the two centre logs to make two inches, and making the length of the indentation eighteen inches on each of these two logs. the purpose of the hole is to hold a centre-board, which is passed through it to act instead of a keel. it is a piece of two-inch plank eighteen inches wide. next the bow ends of the logs are fastened together by what joiners call rabbeting and bolting. fig. represents a rabbet, and gives the dimensions. one of these rabbets is cut upon the upper side of each log, one foot six inches from the bow, so that when all the logs have been served exactly alike, and they have been placed in position side by side, these indentations form an unbroken channel across the boat. now a piece of the toughest dry wood--the bolt--shaped like fig. , should be made to fit this groove, and should then be placed therein. at h, i, in fig. bore with an auger holes three-quarters of an inch in diameter through the bolt, and right on through the log. into these holes fit pegs of hard, very dry wood. [illustration: fig. .] if these pegs and the bolt fit tightly when they are quite dry they will swell and fit very much tighter when they become wet. two and a half feet further back at j, k, the logs are rabbeted again in precisely the same way, and again at l m, n o, and p q. the mast should be as long as the boat, and at its base four and a half inches in diameter. generally it consists of a small tree, a spruce fir, or something of that kind. the boom, seen in the completed picture, is almost as long as the mast, though more slender, and it must have a fork at its thickest end. a lighter bough, with a fork, three feet six-inches long, is needed as a rest for the boom. [illustration] the mast is fixed at r in fig. , and is secured as in fig. . it stands in a hole four inches in diameter and four inches deep. a and b in fig. stand a foot away from the mast in holes three inches in diameter and three inches deep. a and b are each eighteen inches long, and c is a piece of two-inch plank eighteen inches wide, and it has a hole bored in it four inches in diameter to admit the mast. at s, t, u, v, in fig. holes are bored three inches in diameter exactly upon the middle of the next to the outermost log on each side of the boat. these are fitted with forked uprights, those at s and t are eight inches long; those at u and v are twelve inches long. at w, x, y and z in fig. bore holes three inches in diameter and three inches deep, w and x being one foot away from n, o. two feet from w and x should be y z. a and b are holes of the same size over the middle logs of the boat. in w, x, y and z should be forked uprights fourteen inches long. in a and b are uprights sixteen inches long with a cross piece upon which to rest the oar of the steersman. fig. shows what the arrangements are with regard to these uprights. a little before the mast, on each side of the boat, a pole runs through the forks of the uprights. the ends of these poles are joined aft by a piece of one-inch plank, upon which sits the man at the helm. a shelter may be made with a piece of sailcloth or other material as shown in fig. . [illustration] the helm consists of a pole four feet long, which is fixed at an angle of forty-five degrees to a piece of inch plank two feet long and eight inches wide, as shown in fig. . it will be found that the vessel easily answers this helm, which is used like an oar. along the mast the sail is nine feet long. it does not run on rings, but is nailed to the mast. the corner is tied securely to the end of the boom, whose length is ten feet. the boom rests with its fork upon the mast and is prevented from slipping away by a forked, upright support. it is an easy matter to unfurl the sail. take the fork of the boom from the mast, and the sail collapses instantaneously. much navigation can be learned in a vessel of this kind, and it may be that some future admiral will have his small beginnings in a craft of this homely character. chapter x cooking in camp in the last chapter we had much to say of the famous canoe traveller, the late john macgregor, and our readers will welcome an account of his portable cooking apparatus, because even if they do not go voyages in a boat they will find it useful for picnics and camping out. this apparatus, the voyager tells us, "has been designed after numerous experiments with various portable cooking-machines which i could procure for trial, and, as it succeeds better than any of them, and has been approved by trial in five of my own voyages, and in another to iceland, besides shorter trips, and in the abyssinian campaign, it may be of some use to describe the contrivance here." the object proposed was to provide a light but strong apparatus which could speedily boil water and heat or fry other materials even in wet and windy weather, and with fuel enough carried in itself for several days' use. fig. is a section of the rob roy cuisine as it is made up for carrying. there is first a strong waterproof bag about one foot high, and closed at the top by a running cord. at the bottom is the cuisine itself, _a_, which occupies a space of only six inches by three inches (when of smaller size), and has the various parts packed inside, except the drinking cup _b_. provisions, such as bread and cold meat or eggs, may be stowed in the bag above the cuisine, and if the string of it be then attached to a nail fixed in the boat, the whole will be kept steady. for use, when it is desired to boil water, the cuisine being opened, the lower part is a copper pan, _c_, fig. , with a handle, _e_, which can be fixed either into a socket in the side of the pan, or another socket in the side of the lid, as represented in figs. and . three iron legs also fix into sockets and support the pan over the spirit-lamp, _f_, by which the pan, two-thirds full of liquid, will be boiled in five minutes. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] the lamp is the main feature of the apparatus, and it is represented in section in fig. . it consists of two cylinders, one within the other. the space between these (shaded dark) is closed at top and bottom, and a tube _b_, fixed through the bottom, rises with one open end inside, and another (a small nozzle) curved upwards in the open internal cylinder. another tube, _h_, opens into the annular chamber between the cylinders, and it has a funnel-shaped mouth at the outer end, through which the chamber may be filled, while a screw in the inside allows a handle, fig. (in section), to have its end, _j_, screwed in. a small hole in the upper surface is closed by a little cork, which will be expelled if the pressure within is so high as to require escape by this safety-valve. the hole may be in any part of the annular cover (but is not shown in the sketch), and in such case the hole shown in the handle is omitted. the outer cylinder of the lamp, being larger than the inner one, has a bottom, _k_, fig. , which forms a circular tray of about two inches wide and half an inch deep. the original form of the lamp, which was first brought to notice by the cook of the royal canoe club, had a detached tray for the bottom, but now, instead of this plan for the admission of air into the lamp, two saw cuts are made, each about an inch long. one of them is shown below _f_, fig. , and thus the lamp and tray are united in one compact piece while there still is access for air. the late professor j. d. forbes, who used this lamp, says it was introduced into this country from russia by dr. samuel brown, and that "the jet of burning spirit has such force as to resist the blast of a hurricane." to put the lamp in operation, unscrew its handle from the position in fig. , so that it will be as in figs. and . then from a tin flask (which has been packed with the rest of the things in the pan) pour spirits of wine--or, if the odour is not objected to, methylated spirit, into the measure _m_, fig. , and from that into the interior of the lamp through the opening at _h_. next screw in the handle, and place the lamp level under the pan, and pour nearly another measure full into the interior tray. set fire to this, and shelter it for a few seconds if there be much wind. i used this always with complete success on the jordan, nile, danube, and many other rivers. in a short time the flame heats the spirits in the closed chamber, and the spirituous steam is forced by pressure down the tube, and inflames at the nozzle, from which it issues with much force and some noise in a lighted column, which is about one foot in height when unimpeded. this powerful flame operates on the whole of the bottom and lower edge of the pan, and it cannot be blown out by wind nor by a blast from the mouth, but may be instantly extinguished by sharply placing the flat bottom of the measure upon it. the cover may be put on so as to rest with the flat bottom downwards, and with or without the handle. if tea is to be made with the water when it boils, the requisite quantity is to be placed in the tea vessel, _n_, fig. , which has perforated sides, and, its lid being closed, this is placed in the water, where it will rest on the curved side, and can be agitated now and then for a minute, after which insert the handle in the socket of the pan and remove the lamp, allowing the tea to infuse for four minutes, when the tea vessel may be removed and the made tea may be poured out into the cup. the dry tea can be conveniently carried in a paper inside the tea vessel. salt is carried in the box _o_, and the matches are in the box _p_. coffee may be best carried in the state of essence in a bottle. an egg-spoon and a soup-spoon are supplied. a flat clasp knife and fork may be had extra. if bacon is to be fried, or eggs to be poached or cooked _sur le plat_, they may be put into the lid and held by hand over the lamp-flame, so as to warm all parts equally, or the slower heat of a simple flame may be employed by lighting the measure full of spirits and then placing it on the bottom of the upturned pan as shown at fig. , where it will be observed that the three legs are placed in their sockets with the convex curve of each turned outward, so that the lid, as a frying-pan, can rest upon their three points. the spirit-flask contains enough for six separate charges of the lamp, and the cost of using methylated spirits at s. d. a gallon is not one penny a meal. the lamp-flame lasts from ten to fifteen minutes, and the weight of the _cuisine_, exclusive of the bag and cup, is about two pounds. these cuisines, improved by the suggestions obtained in their use, should be carefully made with the best materials and workmanship, and the cost would be about two and a half guineas; or if with tin boiler instead of copper, and brass lamp, £ s. d. many of much larger size (to cook for twenty men) have been used in australia. the lamp above described was used daily in my yawl but the other fittings were on a more enlarged scale, as extreme lightness was not then required. the norwegian cooking apparatus of another kind entirely will be a valuable adjunct to the yachtsman's stores. by means of this, meat or pudding after being heated for only _five minutes_, and then enclosed in a box which retains the heat, will be found to be perfectly cooked after three hours, though no more heat has been applied to it. [illustration] since john macgegor used this stove there have been other wickless stoves invented, and sold at more moderate prices. for instance there are the primus and the optimus and the wickless oil stove of the wilson engineering company. several such stoves, of which two are illustrated here, are included in the lists of messrs. a. w. gamage, ltd., and they are useful indoors and in the open. chapter xi butterflies and moths for those boys who have the good fortune to live in britain, few hobbies are better or more enticing than collecting butterflies and moths. the following apparatus will be enough to start with: ( ) a butterfly net; ( ) a few dozens of one ounce and two ounce deep willow pill-boxes, which may be strengthened by a little liquid shellac glue run round the inside edges; ( ) a handbag which excludes the light; ( ) a two-pound biscuit-tin with tightly-fitting lid; ( ) a zinc pinning box, cork lined; ( ) some entomological pins in three sizes; ( ) some setting boards or blocks; and ( ) a store box for keeping the specimens when dry enough to remove from the setting boards. we will now consider these items in detail. the butterfly net can quite easily be home-made, though, where money is plentiful, it is best bought with the other things above named. to make the net-frame, obtain from a dealer what is called a y-piece, in brass tube. then obtain a piece of short walking-stick, not more than two feet long, which will fit into the lower section of the y, which has a broader tube than the two upper sections. a short stick is always best, because more handy and sure in manipulation when catching the butterflies. into the upper sections of the y place the ends of a piece of cane about three or four feet long, being careful that each end of the cane fits tightly into the brass sockets. then get a lady friend to make for you a green or white leno-muslin bag net, with a brown calico hem attached, into which the cane runs. this net should be made just deep enough to reach with the hand to the bottom, or an inch or so deeper only. mind the bottom is made round, and not jelly-bag shaped with a point, which will ruin nearly all your captures before they are secured. before using the net, have the muslin steeped in water for a whole night, so as to take all the stiffness out of the muslin. it will require several rinsings before the size is all removed, and it becomes quite soft. never mind the loss of colour if green--it will only look the more workman-like. in using the net to catch the specimens, like so many other things, it requires practice to make perfect; but when once the knack is obtained, it should be a rare thing to miss a specimen. don't race after them, but wait until the butterfly hovers over a flower, or flies steadily past, then, with a bold, steady stroke, catch it in the centre of the net opening, at the same moment giving the wrist a sharp half-turn, which will close the mouth of the net, and so secure the novelty. carry the empty pill-boxes in the right-hand side pocket of the coat, transferring them to the left-hand side as filled, so that the full and empty boxes never get mixed in the pockets. having safely netted the butterfly, place the net on the ground, and take a suitable sized pill-box in the right hand. remove the lid, which is to be placed in the ball of the hand loosely under the bottom of the pill-box. this leaves the left hand free. then insert the right hand into the net, and cover the butterfly with the pill-box, holding it with the left hand from the outside of the net, carefully keeping the gauze tightly over the box with the left forefinger. the right hand, which is now free, still contains the lid of the pill-box, which gently place over the butterfly, slowly drawing out the gauze remaining between the lid and the box. quickly transfer the filled box, which should contain _only one_ specimen, into the dark left-hand pocket. most butterflies will at once become quiet in the dark, if it is not too hot. as opportunity occurs, it is best to transfer them to the hand-bag, which should be left near, under the shade of a bush in a cool place. by this means every specimen should be so boxed without the apparent loss of a single scale from their wings. only take good specimens--don't be tempted to get a quantity, but rather go in for fine quality. especially avoid any which are chipped, rubbed, or otherwise unfit for cabinet specimens. it is a great mistake to take imperfect specimens, for they give just as much trouble as the finest, and are never of use either for the collection or for scientific purposes. if it is not convenient on arrival home to immediately set out our captures, they should not be killed, but placed in the biscuit-tin or left in the bag just as they are, in a cold, dark cellar, or like place, where they will be all right for a couple of days or more, remaining perfectly still. having brought home our captures we now produce the biscuit-tin. this is to be used for the "lethal-chamber," where the specimens are to be sent to sleep, but not to "awake refreshed." the processes of by-gone times for killing butterflies for collections have been many, the most primitive, perhaps, being pinching the under side of the thorax, or that part of the body to which the wings are attached. doubtless, there are in the various collections of butterflies, large numbers of fine specimens which have been so killed; but it is an objectionable plan, because even when skilfully executed, the specimens are more or less mutilated in the structure, and are consequently difficult to set out with accuracy. we are almost certain by this method to break off a leg or two, or otherwise render the specimen imperfect. chloroform is used by some people to kill their butterflies, but it is unsatisfactory, for it often renders them very rigid and too stiff to immediately set out, which is a great disadvantage. much the same may be said of the fumes of cyanide of potassium, which constitute the active properties of the "killing bottles" sold by the dealers. it is, however, always wise to keep one of these bottles in the hand-bag, in case something very special is to be immediately stupefied. it must, however, be a good large bottle, with wide mouth, for it is needed generally for the big butterflies, such as the larger fritillaries, purple emperors, and the like in size and strength. there is nothing, however, so good for obtaining perfect specimens as boxing the butterflies in the nets, conveying them home in a dark hand-bag, and then killing them in a biscuit-tin with the fumes of _strong_ liquid ammonia. it is best to buy a four-ounce tightly-stoppered squat-bottle for keeping the ammonia, which, when not in use, should be placed out of the light, in a drawer or cupboard, taking care the stopper is tightly fixed. in buying the ammonia ask the chemist for that with a specific gravity of . , which is commonly kept by them. some chemists will try to persuade the buyer that it is not safe, so as to supply a weaker article; in which case don't trade with him again, for anything weaker will not only not kill the butterflies, but simply irritate them into knocking themselves into small pieces. now to proceed. we place about a large teaspoonful of the liquid ammonia into a little cup, or better, in a small mustard-tin lid, taking care to keep our eyes and nose clear of the fumes. place this as quickly as possible at the bottom of the biscuit-tin, and over it loosely a piece of paper, so as to let out the fumes, but to stop the pill-boxes from falling into the fluid, and so doing damage to box and contents. then place the boxes containing the butterflies into the tin and tightly close the lid and leave them for not less than half an hour, or better still, a little longer. the boxes thus placed may be left overnight and opened next morning, if more convenient; but in that case it is best to put in with them a small piece of damp sponge about the size of a walnut, so as to keep the specimens from getting too dry. this damp atmosphere should also be there when the butterflies are stored away alive in the dark, for a day or two, as described already. on opening the lid of the biscuit-tin containing the ammonia and pill-boxes, be careful to keep your face well away, or the puff of vapour may be very painful. there is no danger whatever to be feared from the use of ammonia in this manner, but still it may lead to temporary discomfort, such as pain in the eyes and loss of breath for a moment. having removed the lid proceed in the following manner: first place on the table before you a sheet of white paper or a blotting-pad. by your side on the table have a small tea-tray, or other flat receptacle. take out of the tin one of the top pill-boxes, open the lid, and shake out the butterfly on the sheet of paper in front of you. then put the lid of the pill-box with its top turned downwards, on the tea-tray, and place the remainder of the pill-box, _sideways_ within the lid. the object is to let the air get to the inside of the boxes, so as to evaporate the ammonia still remaining about them, or the next butterfly to occupy the box will object to the stale fumes of "smelling salts," and probably knock itself about in consequence. the boxes may be thus all emptied and left to air, which will not require much more than an hour, or even less, if the tray be placed in the sunshine near an open window. by placing each box sideways in its lid, the boxes and lids all fit one another, and do not get tiresomely mixed. in shaking out the butterflies place them in rows neatly on the paper, so that you know which was the first to leave the boxes, for that row should be the first pinned, having been exposed longer to the fresh air, to permit the ammonia attached to them to evaporate. if pinned too soon, the ammonia is apt to affect the metal of the pin and make it brittle where it passes through the body of the insect. the action of this gas is most peculiar on the colours of some insects, especially on that of the small heath butterfly, marbled whites, or some of the blues. when seen for the first time one is horror-stricken, and apt to exclaim that the specimens are ruined with the nasty stuff. this, however, soon all passes away as the ammonia evaporates and the normal colours reappear in all their former beauty. some collectors rail against ammonia, using themselves some worse killing medium. there is no other such medium which will allow of one, after pinning the insect, to move it up and down quickly in the air with the effect that the wings are as flaccid as though the specimen were alive. it leaves not the slightest trace of rigidity, which is of the highest importance for quick and successful setting out. the next proceeding is one which requires delicate handling and touch, which can only come with practice. it is pinning the insects. to do this there is only one way which permits of the specimen being afterwards exactly set out, and that is, the "proper way." any deviation from it, simple as it is, leads to all sorts of trouble and vexation when we come to set the butterflies out on the blocks. take the butterfly--with the wings closed together over the back, so that the under side only can be seen--between the left hand first finger and thumb. touch it deftly, but firmly, holding no more than is necessary of the under side of the thorax, where the legs are fixed. be very careful not to break off any of the legs, or rub off any scales from the body or legs. a small pair of curved forceps are of great use in delicately placing the butterfly in position between the fingers. the proper position allows of the wings to more than half open, when gently blown upon with one's breath. then choose a pin of suitable size, rather a little large than otherwise, and pass it through the centre of the upper part of the thorax, just where the two front wings meet. mind it is exactly in the centre and so placed that the pin's head leans somewhat forward when the pin is fully in the body. pass the pin well through the body, so that at least one third of its length is clear of the underside of the butterfly, and all as nearly as possible the same distance through. when we have pinned the specimens, we proceed to set or spread them out on the blocks to dry. in selecting these, say they are for butterflies, do not get the slot groove down the centre too wide, as is needed for the fat-bodied moths. those blocks used in this country are generally somewhat rounded on each side where the wings are to rest. this is called "round-setting" in distinction to "flat-setting," which means that the wings, when quite dry, remain set out flatly at right angles from the body; while round-setting leaves them drooping at the tips in an unnatural manner. round-setting is considered, outside the british islands, an insular abomination. it was the style, unfortunately, adopted in this country with the dawn of the present activity among british entomologists, and everybody knows how difficult it is to change even such a simple fashion as the round-setting of butterflies. simple as the matter seems at first sight, it has contributed more than any other cause to the generally shameful ignorance which prevails among british entomologists of even the butterflies of the continent of europe outside our islands. because they can only be obtained from abroad "flat-set," most of our collectors would hardly look at a "foreign" butterfly; and so the study of the british species has been blocked for years, entirely from this cause, which fostered so largely the prejudice in favour of "british specimens." a "british" camberwell beauty is now worth a sovereign, if taken in britain, although it doubtless flew over from the opposite continent; but the same specimen, if taken in france or belgium, would not be worth sixpence to a british collector. now all this is wrong and should not be. of course, it is quite right to know what does occur in our country, but there is no need for these absurd differences in value of the specimens, whether taken in britain or on the mainland of europe. it leads to fraud, and it is sad to think that some professional dealers have actually made more than comfortable livings, chiefly by inducing young or inexperienced people to pay long prices for "british" specimens which were perhaps captured in germany, where they were set on rounded blocks, sent out for the purpose to deceive english people, because they were "round-set" and pinned with birmingham-made pins! another result of this insular prejudice is that some species of butterflies very closely allied to others have been overlooked for want of familiarity with another continental species. a case of this kind was the cause of our last addition to the british list being so long overlooked. there was this butterfly, quite common, year after year, within twenty miles of london, and flying over fifty miles of country, overlooked; all because of our want of knowledge of even the commonest european species. we therefore recommend the flat-setting, and if the new generation of students of butterflies will adopt it, the round-setting style will disappear in a very few years. the blocks should be covered with very fine cork, or may be of soft wood, if the steel pins can be obtained. then they would be cheaper, as the cork covering adds much to the expense, besides being always unsatisfactory, in consequence of the holes in the cork, which hold mites and such vermin. place the setting block on the table, with the top furthest away from you. proceed to select the various butterflies from your damp collecting-box which will best suit the size of the block, allowing about a quarter of an inch clear from the outer edge on each side. then, with the forceps, take hold of the upper part of the pin near to the body and firmly drive it in the same leaning position as it is fixed into the body, firmly into the _exact centre_ of the groove. if the pin will not go readily into the block, make a lead for it with a sharp-pointed penknife. do not be tempted to push down the body on the pin, or your specimens will, on removal from the blocks, be all sorts of heights on the pins, and quite unfit for cabinet purposes. next see that the shoulders of the wings just touch the edge of the block, so as to place the wings flat, without tilting up the tips. observe carefully that the bodies are straight and lifted by placing under them bits of paper or cotton wool so as to extend on an even plane with the thorax and wings. continue placing your specimens until exhausted in number, or until the block is quite full, after leaving a clear space between each butterfly sufficient to lift the wing tips slightly forward of the front part of the head. then with a sharp penknife, very neatly cut a thin nick in the under edge of the ends of the block directly below the shoulder piece of the centre groove. there should be four of these little nicks. next get a piece of _glazed_ cotton thread, and tie a knot at one end. insert this knot in the top left-hand nick, the knotted end being below the block. very gently, but firmly, bring the thread over the end of the block, close to the shoulder, down the left-hand side closely into the inner edge of the block, catching it in the bottom left-hand nick under the block. this will have had the effect of placing all the wings firmly on that side of the block. then carry the thread underneath the block into the top right-hand nick and over the end of the block, down the right-hand upper side, over the lower end, firmly fix in that nick and cut off the thread. great care must be taken to pull the thread over the wings not so tightly as to mark them. a good plan is to push under each upper end of the thread a thin pin which eases it, so as to avoid damaging the top and bottom specimens in the row while setting them into their respective places. these pins may afterwards be withdrawn. next proceed with a very fine pointed needle to gently lift all the wings into their proper places so as to get the effect of "a well-set butterfly." it may be found that the thread is too slack in places to hold down the wings in proper position. that may be obviated by neatly cross-pinning down the thread on either side at intervals between the butterflies. when all the specimens have been arranged with perfect uniformity, take two slips of tracing-paper, which have been previously cut to fit the length of the block, and each must be three-fourths the breadth of one side of the setting block. then lay one of these strips of paper on the left-hand side, being very careful to keep just clear of the thread. all the wings will be seen plainly through the transparent paper and can be readjusted if any slip out of position. next place with the forceps a no. entomological pin firmly through the top and at the bottom of the paper, near the edge next the cotton. place another between the first and second butterfly on the block, and so on down the row; also, _as you go along_, place another pin between the outer indentation where the upper and lower wings meet; also put a fourth pin by the tip of the upper wing. these pins should firmly secure the paper over the wings, which, when thus treated on both sides, will dry into the desired position for cabinet specimens. the greatest care must be taken not to allow any pin-point to enter the wing or fringe of a butterfly, or it will be quite spoiled. next very carefully and gently undo the fastened thread, first taking out any cross pins which secure it. after its removal gently stroke from the body towards the paper on each side with a soft camel's hair brush any disturbed scales. with practice there should not be the least damage done by the thread, which leaves no mark whatever if _moved at once_ when the papers are firmly fixed. if they should be left on carelessly, or by any mistake, the threads will be certain to mark every butterfly, to their complete disfigurement. keep the blocks which contain the set-out butterflies in a dry cupboard or other safe place. when thus drying they fall an easy prey to earwigs, wasps, ants, cockroaches, and such like "small beasts," which will strip off all the bodies on a block in a single night. they should not be exposed to too bright a light whilst drying on the blocks, or they often suffer in colour. when single specimens have to be set out it is easy to work the thread by putting a pin through the knot and holding down the other end with the left-hand forefinger until the paper is fixed, and then treating the other wings in like manner. it is advisable to leave the butterflies on the blocks for about a week, though the surest test is to touch the body gently with a pin, and if _quite hard_, it is safe to remove the insects to a store box without fear of the wings springing. after removing the butterflies, pass over the surface of the block some hard substance, such as the back of an ivory-handled knife, to rub down any little roughness made by the pins on the surface, where the wings are placed, when setting any fresh insects on the same block. most of the butterflies are easily reared through all their stages, from the eggs up to the perfect insect. this is by far the most interesting part of the study. until within the last few years, when the writer of these chapters pressed some of his friends to look more closely into the life histories of our common butterflies, it was the custom of some naturalists to sneer at "butterfly-catchers." since then a wonderful book has been published on the butterflies of the eastern portion of north america by mr. scudder, and all these scoffers must feel very small when they see such splendid science in the study of butterflies. now, many people, who never thought of rearing a butterfly, are giving careful attention to them in all their stages. several kinds of butterflies are readily induced to lay their eggs in captivity when carefully managed. various species differ much in this--some may be depended upon with certainty, such as the "green-veined white" (_pieris napi_), which will deposit its eggs at night upon a piece of watercress, under the influence of a warm room, and the bright light of a paraffin lamp. this species, however, is quite an exception, for, as a rule, every attention should be given to copying their natural surroundings as closely as possible. a good plan is to have ready planted in a large flower-pot a plant of the food of the particular species from which it is desired to have eggs, or, as they are called by the entomologists, the ova--that being, as you know, the plural of ovum, the latin for an egg. having got your plant nicely established in its flower-pot, buy a piece of wire-netting, about a foot wide, and bend it round so as to fit just _inside_ the flower-pot. by cutting the wire so as to overlap a little, it is easy to twist or hook the ends, so as to make a cylinder to just fit inside the pot. then cover this with very open muslin all round and over the top, neatly stretched, so as not to look untidy or to stop a single ray of sunshine which can get through. having had several of these cages prepared, they may be used at the moment when you bring home the freshly-caught females. the sooner the female butterflies are placed in the cage the better, for if they remain too long in the pill-box they are apt to get too dry, and so never recover enough to deposit their ova. after firmly tying the cage to the pot, do not disturb them when once in the cages, so long as they are alive; but leave them out of doors, where they get all the sunlight or rain. if the plant be watered, that is best done by soaking the flower-pot in water up to two-thirds the height of the soil, and not by removing the cage. still, in dry weather it is best to sprinkle the cage with water, so that the captive may drink, which they often require to do. another way, especially in the case of small butterflies, is to use large glass jam-pots, with a piece of muslin tied over the top. in these pots should be a little sprig of food-plant in a small bottle of water, and also a bit of damp sponge to keep up a moist atmosphere, without which there will rarely be any eggs. the pots may be placed in the sunlight in a room near an open window, but care should be taken that the glass does not get too hot, or both parent and eggs may be killed. when the eggs hatch, never, if possible, touch, except with a camel-hair brush, the young caterpillars--or larvæ as they are scientifically called, that being the plural for larva, a single caterpillar. pupa is the singular, and pupæ the plural, for the chrysalis; imago the singular, and imagines the plural, for the perfect insects or complete butterflies. these scientific terms are quite easy to learn, and are the best to use when referring to the various stages of insects generally. in selecting females for depositing ova, take those which are a little worn, and not too recently emerged from pupæ, as they are the more likely to produce fertile eggs. when the ova hatch, watch them very closely, at least three or four times a day. if they are on growing food, do not touch them at all, but if they require moving for any reason, a soft, sharp-pointed camel-hair pencil is the best tool to use. glass jam-pots are very nice for feeding young larvæ of any kind. the method is, to change the food daily, taking care to remove at the same time all dirt made by the larvæ, which is called "frass." cleanliness in rearing larvæ is the first consideration, and the next most important thing is to always gather their food from the same tree as that from which they began to feed when hatched. if they are fed on growing plants this does not, of course, apply. tie over the mouth of the pot with fine unglazed calico, and over this place a piece of glass so as to stop, as far as possible, the drying of the food plant in the jar. be very particular to supply the fresh food always quite dry, and never in a wet condition, which is apt to give the larvæ diarrh[oe]a, to which in captivity they are very subject. never give more food than the young larvæ are likely to eat, increasing the supply as they get older. when changing the larvæ always count them, or some will be lost and thrown out with the withered food. the best plan is to spread out a sheet of white paper on a table, and empty the contents of the jar on it. then examine the interior of the jar, seeing that every little one is out. having cleaned it out with a clean, dry duster, put in the fresh food. then lift in with the hair-pencil any active larvæ. those which are sulky-looking on the leaves clip off with part of the leaf, and drop into the jar. they may be changing their skin, and, if disturbed then, will probably not recover. the food should be changed at least once every day. while growing, larvæ of butterflies generally like plenty of light, but it is unsafe to leave the sunshine too long on the jars, in case the living contents get baked, as will the food certainly. some species while in the larval stage, feed only at night, hiding away in the daylight. these are matters which will soon be found out by experience. we have never heard of any one having reared all the british species through their stages, but we know one friend who reared no less than eighteen different kinds through, from ova to imagines, in a single season. $moth catching.$--students of natural history in search of moths which they may identify by a reference to such works upon the subject as those by the rev. j. g. wood, will find an interesting method of catching them in preparing "treacles." the fancy "golden syrups" of the kitchen should be avoided. ask the grocer to get common treacle--green treacle they call it in the trade. to a pound of this will be added a wineglassful of stale beer and about three-quarters of a wineglassful of the most inferior rum you can buy. a few drops of oil of aniseed will improve this dreadful concoction. do not add the rum, beer, and aniseed to the treacle at once, but keep them in a bottle apart until you are going to use the mixture. with a companion who carries a net, look out now for isolated trees that have a rough bark. do not waste attention on dead trees, fences, nor chestnut trees, willows, nor flowering ivy. in warm, damp weather when there is no moon, go out with a bottle of this mixture and a house-painter's brush, "a sash tool," as painters call it, will serve you well, and a lantern, some pill-boxes or similar small receptacles. having selected a tree daub it well with your mixture in a patch about a foot long and half a foot broad. so pass from tree to tree. come back at last to the first tree again. your companion should hold the net under the treacle patch for some of the moths that have come to enjoy the rum and treacle will fall when you turn the lantern light upon them. those that do not may be taken from the tree by an upward scoop of a pill-box, and then secured by the lid. try to avoid getting the sticky mixture upon the handle of the brush and upon your hands, for it will prevent your deft manipulation of your pill boxes. after the first night very little treacle will be needed to freshen the patches, but the mixture may be used freely on your first round. the treacling season begins about march and goes on until the end of april. may does not yield many moths, nor the first week in june, but after that you may go round again with your bottle until the end of september. you may find sometimes that toads and bats poach on your preserves. [illustration] another way to secure specimens of moths is to make a moth trap. our diagram gives a plan of it, that is a representation of it as seen from above if we look down at it with the lid off. a, b, c, d is a box. it may be made for the purpose, or a soap box or other case may be purchased from the grocer for a few coppers. e, f, and g are panes of glass, held in grooves. h is another pane of glass which comes up to the lid, and cuts the box into two unequal parts. j is the reflector of a lighted lamp placed in front of it. there will need to be a hole in the lid over the lamp, and a flower pot upside down may be put over this hole. it is best to have three doors into the larger compartment; one in the lid and one in each of the two sides, k and l, so that two hands may be used in putting the moths that come to the light into pill boxes. chapter xii hints on aquariums it is better to have several aquariums than one. often the mistake is made of gathering together all kinds of savage and voracious creatures that prey upon each other. pretty as they are, there is no need to buy the glass aquariums, and indeed better in every way for the inhabitants is a large tub put out of doors in a place where there is not too much sun. clean sand or gravel should be strewed upon the bottom and in this water-plants may be fixed. if you have any bivalves they will love to burrow in it, and some kinds of fish love to rest upon a bottom of this kind. large stones should be built to reach half-way up the tub, with spaces between so that the fish may dart out of the light whenever they wish. if you keep fish that need running water it will be necessary to put the tub under a tap, and to pierce a hole near the top of the tub for the superfluous water to flow away. in this case it will be as well to cover the tub with a net, or the fish may be found to have leapt over the edge. boys may make their own net from the instructions given in chapter xix., or may buy cheap gauze or other similar material. if the tub is for newts and such things as do not live wholly in the water, then the stones should be built until they come above the water and so form a little island. for these creatures the water should not be so deep, and there should be an abundance of weeds. freshwater shrimps and crayfish should have a shallow tub or trough, a sandy bottom, and places in which they can hide. here, too, there must be water running in and out always. by these means we imitate the natural surroundings of the shrimps and crayfish, for they delight in the running water of shallow streams that have a bottom of sand and stones. the outlet for the waste water should be protected with a grating and probably with gauze, or some of the inhabitants of the tub will escape. there are many objections to glass vessels, though some of their faults may be corrected. they trouble the fish with too much light, but if a brown paper case of the same size and shape as the aquarium be made it can be slipped over the vessel and removed occasionally when you wish to observe the movements of the fish. glass soon becomes foul, and needs frequent cleaning. in any case the aquarium should be kept out of the sun, and for this reason a northern window is best. whatever form of aquarium is selected there must be soil and sand at the bottom, weeds, and shelter for the fish. the bell glass is the least favourable form of aquarium, but even that may be made tolerable if the hints we have given are adopted. in the square or oblong form only one side need be glass and the remaining three sides wood, metal or slate. the sand that forms the bottom of an aquarium should be quite clean. if you have found it in the bottom of a swift stream it will not need much washing, but if from any other place it should be washed thoroughly. put a large bucket under a tap, and as the water runs into the bucket strew the sand gradually into the moving water with one hand, and stir the water as hard as you can with the other. keep this going until the water that runs out of the bucket is quite clean. even now, however, the sand may not be thoroughly cleansed. put a drop of the water upon a piece of clean glass, and when the water has been evaporated there should be no sediment. when the sand, plants, pebbles and stones have been arranged in an aquarium it is best to introduce the water gently by means of a syphon, a method explained in chapter xix. the aquarium may be emptied in the same way. there are a number of ways of supplying the fish with the amount of oxygen they need. one is to change the water frequently, another already mentioned is to have running water and a pipe for the surplus water; a third means is to have a fountain, an attractive element described in chapter xix. these methods, however, are mechanical and artificial. the natural way of providing the oxygen is to secure the aid of water plants. these absorb carbonic acid gas, and, having made use of the carbon in their growth, set free the oxygen, which is waste as far as they are concerned. thus in a well-balanced aquarium the fish provide the plants with carbonic acid gas, and receive back the oxygen which they need; the plants provide the fish with oxygen which they do not want, but which is the very life of the fish, and receive back the carbon without which they would die. water-beetles, newts and some other creatures come to the surface for their air, and take no oxygen, or very little, from the water. for many reasons the best aquarium is a pond in the garden, for here we may have greater variety of animal and vegetable life, and beautiful surroundings of plant life too. the pond should be about three feet deep, and the banks should slope, so that there will be a little spade work at first. the bottom may be of clay, but it is better for many reasons to have cement. the points mentioned with regard to the indoor aquarium apply here also, but many of the arrangements are more easily carried out in the pond than in the tank. $plants for the aquarium.$--the duckweeds float and need no planting. they spread rapidly. there are four kinds: the lesser duckweed (_lemna minor_); the ivy-leaved duckweed (_lemna trisulca_). then there is the american pondweed (_anacharis alsinastrum_), a weed that almost blocks slow moving rivers and canals. it will grow either attached to the bottom or floating. not only does it supply the fish with air but with food also. the hornwort (_ceratophyllum demersum_) needs no soil, and gives off much oxygen, though probably not so much as _vallisneria spiralis_, a great favourite in the aquarium. easier to obtain is the water crowfoot (_ranunculus aquatilis_), and we may mention also the broad-leaved pondweed (_potamogeton natans_), close-leaved pondweed (_potamogeton densus_), the perfoliate pondweed (_p. perfoliatus_), the curled pondweed (_p. crispus_), the starwort (_callitriche verna_), the grassy pondweed (_potamogeton gramineus_), and the enterprising boy will find many others for himself in ponds, streams, and canals. foreign plants are sold by dealers. for the garden pond the beautiful water lilies may be obtained. the weeds should be prevented from occupying too much space, and if the creatures in the aquarium do not keep them in check by eating them it will be necessary to remove some of the plants occasionally. $sanitation.$--if a fish dies remove it at once, or its dead body will pollute the water. to clean a glass aquarium let the water run away through a siphon until only a few inches remain, then clean the sides with a piece of rag tied upon a stick. now siphon the remaining water away, at the same time supplying fresh water. do not throw a lot of food to the fishes. what they do not eat decays and poisons the water. if there are molluscs in the aquarium this danger is lessened, for many of them act as scavengers, and they are assisted by freshwater shrimps, tadpoles, and beetles. the shrimps, however, may eat the living as well as the dead, and the tadpoles, instead of being allowed to eat, may themselves be eaten. $the food supply.$--fish eat the buds and tender shoots of pond weeds. they may have also a moderate supply of small worms, gentles, different kinds of larvæ, and what are called ants' eggs. frogs and toads eat insects, little beetles, worms, grubs, caterpillars, and newts need an occasional worm. $the fish.$--many of the fish that swarm in most ponds and streams are suitable for the aquarium. the carp is related to the goldfish, which is the golden carp. it is quiet and harmless, and will not interfere with other creatures in the aquarium. minnows are pretty, and should have running water, and the roach is another suitable fish for life in captivity. the gudgeon, loach, and bullhead serve for bottom fish. jack and sticklebacks are extremely interesting, but need a place for themselves, as they eat any other inhabitants of the same aquarium. $fishes as pets.$--perhaps, writes one of our contributors, the most interesting of freshwater fishes to watch is the stickleback, especially if a pair can be kept during the breeding season in a good-sized aquarium, so that they have the opportunity to collect materials and build their curious nest in the natural way. the male fish develops during this season a most beautiful vermilion-coloured breast, and is exceedingly pugnacious, so that it is useless to attempt to keep two males in the same aquarium. in fact, the stickleback is often so quarrelsome that it is not desirable to try to keep other fish with him, unless they are much larger than he is. the easiest fish to keep alive are the carp (to which tribe the goldfish belongs) and the minnow. these can be kept for years without much difficulty, and will not be likely to injure one another, or any other fish that may be placed in the same tank. small rudd are also very good pets, and are nearly as hardy and equally harmless. roach are easily obtained, and will not quarrel, but they are not quite so strong. perch, on the contrary, will live a long time if regularly fed, but it will not do to put any smaller fish, except sticklebacks, with them; yet they look so handsome that an aquarium containing two or three perch and a pair of sticklebacks is perhaps better worth looking at than one which can only boast of shoals of roach or other soft-mouthed fishes. dace and chub are pretty and harmless, but require more changes of water than is usually convenient, or they will soon die. tench are tenacious of life, but sluggish and fond of lying at the bottom. small bream are fairly lively, and i have found them moderately hardy. they do not require water of special purity. gudgeons live very well, and may be kept with minnows, being good friends together. the loach and the bullhead are fairly hardy, but have little other attraction. the grayling is very delicate, and it is not possible to keep her long, except under very favourable conditions. the ruffe or pope is hardy, like its relative the perch, and might, if obtainable (it is not a common fish), be placed in a perch tank, as a humble companion. the bleak is almost as delicate as the grayling; and the jack is too ravenous for any fish to live in his company except another jack _of his own size_. this about ends the list, excepting that i've left till the last the noblest of fish--trout and salmon. with regard to the latter i don't want to encourage a boy in the notion that he can keep a ten-pound salmon in a tank. nevertheless, i have for many successive seasons kept salmon for weeks or months in a small tank; but these were young ones, very young, about the size of tadpoles, in fact, and not unlike them in some respects. they are almost indistinguishable from the young trout with which i keep them. of course, they are but babies, and they have their feeding bottles attached, and do not want feeding till these are absorbed. to return to trout. these fish, when about a year old, are very interesting, and if a constant change of water can be secured may be kept alive for years. even without this advantage, i have kept them many months, and have found their little ways very curious. the trait i objected to the most was the habit of cannibalism which the larger fish developed. i found one fish of about one and a half ounces with another about half that size half way down its throat. this makes it desirable to keep only such trout as are about the same size together. they will gradually, though very slowly, get tame, and will come out from their shelter under a weed to eat a caddis as you drop it from your hand. this was only the case with some of the fish, others remaining as shy as ever in spite of petting. it is best to choose fish that have been taken by net, but trout taken by a fly, or roach taken by a small hook in the lip, will live very well. i have kept trout for months that i had caught with fly and carried home for miles. some of these were from a quarter to half-a-pound in weight; but i found smaller fish would thrive better. for food, caddis or other water insects are best; but gentles would perhaps do, if the former are not to be had. i found the freshwater shrimp capital food, as it keeps alive, of course, till the trout is inclined to eat. one of the chief causes of mortality in the aquarium is the fouling of water by the decomposition of surplus food. if you are obliged to use dead matter, such as chopped liver, or meat, be careful to remove any that may be left. flies may be put on the surface, and will be appreciated; but the trout will seldom take them while you are watching, though they will often eat the caddis as you put them in, and even chase the shrimps. on the whole, i think perch are the best fish to make pets of, as they can be taught even to take worms from your hand, and require much less water running in and out than do the trout. i've known a perch to live for years in a tin bath in my stable; whereas the trout would not be happy without a long tank, and continual change of water. if you have only a very small aquarium it may be better to be contented with a few minnows. these, with the water weeds and little fresh-water snails, which should be in every aquarium, will be quite enough to make it look pretty. chapter xiii in the playing fields $nickie, nickie, night.$--before the period when lucifer matches came into general usage and were manufactured at a moderate price, our grandparents relied on the flint, the steel, and the tinder-box to produce fire. these implements have been very completely dealt with by various writers and illustrators, who have given us some idea of the importance they were to every household. to the student, and to the curious who desire a more tangible acquaintance, we may remark that a very fine collection of tinder-boxes, flints, and steels can be seen both at the british museum and at the guildhall museum of the city of london. a very favourite boys' game, in the earlier part of the nineteenth century, which necessitated the possession of at least a flint and steel, the game being played in the after-dark of evening, was somewhat similar to the modern game of "touch." the game was called "nickie, nickie, night," and admitted any number of players. a boy was elected to the position of "nickie," and he could only retain this position by fleetness of foot and dexterity in avoiding his pursuers, the pursuers being formed by the remaining number of players. the game was played in any open locality, and "nickie" being allowed a start of perhaps thirty to forty seconds, disappeared into the darkness, shouts of "nickie! nickie! night! show your light! show your light!" resounding from the waiting boys, whereupon nickie struck a few sparks from his flint and steel, indicating to the others his position; these at once tore off in his direction; while he, as quickly and silently as possible, changed his locality to elude capture. having baffled his pursuers, nickie would, if a good player, again quickly chink flint and steel, drawing off the boys in a new direction; and so the game would continue amidst the greatest excitement, fun, and laughter; nickie, like a will-o'-the-wisp, darting here, there, and everywhere, greeted with shouts of "nickie! nickie! night! show your light!" until, being ultimately captured, he gave way to a new nickie, and took his place amongst the pursuers. [illustration] our illustrations of flint and tinder-box are selected from numerous patterns; in many cases--older readers will probably remember the immense variety of these--the tinder-box was round, and the steel consisted of an old file stuck in a wooden handle, the flint being frequently picked up from among the stones in the roadway. [illustration] $how to make a kite.$--take a lath, a, b, which should be three feet long and about an inch wide. one of the ordinary laths used by builders will be quite suitable if one of the lighter ones is selected, and if care is taken to choose a straight one. next take a cane or other piece of light flexible wood, and bind the centre of it tightly at the point g an inch below a. bend the cane into a semi-circle and connect c and d with string. if this has been done properly the distance from c to d will be two feet. now connect d b c with string and the frame will be ready. many years ago it was possible to cover a kite with ordinary newspaper, but the paper that is used now is not strong enough, and it is better to use calico. place the frame upon the calico and cut round the frame with scissors, not close to the frame, but leaving a margin of calico. turn this over string and cane and stitch it in position. this may be done with a sewing machine. at e midway between h g bore a hole with a pricker, and another at f, which is the same distance from h as e is. string a foot long should connect e and f, and this is kept in position by having knotted ends so that the ends cannot pass through the holes at e and f. this string will not be tight, but will hang loosely. at c and d tassels about eight inches long may be fixed. the tail is made by folding paper. take a number of pieces about five inches long and four broad, and fold them as though you were making spills for the lighting of candles. how long the tail should be is a matter for experiment. try it with forty and a tassel at the end, and you will see afterwards when you try to fly the kite if that is the right length and weight. attach your long flying line now to the string that connects e and f, about four and a half inches below e. choose a breezy day and ask someone to face the wind and hold the kite aloft. keeping the line tight, run a few yards in the face of the wind to give the kite a start upon its upward journey. now is the time to see if the tail is too heavy or too light. if the kite labours upwards and shows a tendency to come straight down, tail first, then it may be inferred that the tail is too heavy, and by reducing the number of "chickens" as they are called in some parts of the country, and by taking from the tassel the kite may be relieved of its too heavy burden. if, on the other hand, the tail is not heavy enough, the kite will plunge madly from side to side and will dive downwards head foremost, demanding more "chickens" or a heavier tassel. the kite may be flown in the dark with a chinese lantern where the tassel is. [illustration] $rackets.$--a racket ground is in the form of a parallelogram, not less than fifty yards long and twenty-five broad. sometimes a wall of a garden may be adapted by fixing boards and net-work along the top, if there is space enough below. the wall should be painted black, and the ground be divided into four equal divisions, distinctly marked. the flooring of the court should be paved. the divisions are, two close to the wall, a and b, and two in front of them, c and d. these divisions are occupied by those who play the game. the wall should be marked by a broad line of white paint e at forty-two inches from the ground, and above this line each ball should strike. the ball weighs one ounce, and should be white. when it becomes dirty its whiteness is renewed by dipping it into a bag of chalk, so that it may be seen against the black wall. the game may be played by two or more players. when it is played by four, one stands in each of the compartments, a, b, c, d; those near the wall being called in-hand, and those furthest from it out-hand players. when two play, each player has two of the divisions, and the one who takes the a and b is called in-hand player, and the other out-hand player. having decided who is to begin the game, the in-hand player nearest the wall strikes his ball against the wall; if it strikes under the line, goes over the wall, does not rebound into the out-hand spaces, or goes beyond the racket ground, the striker is out, and the out-hand player takes his place; but if the player is successful, and the ball rebounds into the out-hand spaces, and as it rises is sent back to the wall, to rebound into one of the in spaces, the game proceeds. in a close-court game the "server" who serves the ball properly above the line but not into his adversary's court is allowed three trials before his "hand" is out. the game is, that the in-player should send the ball in such a manner against the wall that, on its rebound, the opposite player, or players, shall be able to pick it up or strike it. when this happens, he who struck the ball counts one point, or an ace, and the play proceeds until one player or players scores eleven, or fifteen, as the players decide. this game may be played either in an open court, that is in a court with only one wall, against which the game is played, or in a closed court surrounded by four walls. sometimes there is an ordinary high front wall, and a smaller back wall, omitting the side walls. the close-court game is the best, but the expense compels many to adopt the open-court game. $fives$.--this game needs a high wall, free from abutments, and under it a smooth, dry, paved ground. a line is drawn on the wall, about three feet from the ground; another line is drawn upon the ground itself about feet from the wall, a; and two others are drawn on each side as boundaries, b, c. the player needs a ball of tightly-sewn leather and a fives-bat. this has a long handle, and an oval bowl of wood. the ball is hard, capable of bouncing, small and white. the game may be played by two or four people; in the last arrangement, two on each side. the game may be played either single-handed or with partners. when it is played with partners, the players toss up for first innings. the first player takes the ball, and strikes it against the wall with his bat above the line on the wall, and so that it may fall outside the line on the ground. the other then strikes it, and the players continue to hit it against the wall, either before it comes to the ground or at the first rebound, until one of them missing it, or driving it out of bounds, or beneath the wall-line, loses or goes out. the ball may fall anywhere within the side boundaries, after being once struck up by the player who is in. the game is usually fifteen, but is sometimes extended to twenty-five. this is bat-fives, and is not unlike rackets, except that it may be played in any open court, and that another kind of bat and a larger ball are used. fives was originally played with the hand, instead of a racket. $prisoners' base.$--appoint the two best players captains, and let them choose their men alternately. next mark the homes and prisons. two semicircles are drawn, large enough to hold the two sides, the distance between the semicircles being about twenty yards. these are the "homes," or "bounds." twenty yards in front of these, two other semicircles, of a rather larger size, are drawn. these are the prisons, and the prison of each party is in a line with the enemy's home. having settled which side shall commence the game the captain of that side orders out one of his own side who must run at least beyond the prisons before he returns. as soon as he has started, the captain of the other side sends out one of his men to try to touch him before he can regain his own home. if this is accomplished, the successful runner is permitted to return home while the boy who has been touched must go to the prison belonging to his enemies' side; from which he cannot move until someone from his own side releases him, by evading the enemy and touching him. this is not easy, because in order to reach the prison, the player must cross the enemy's headquarters. it is allowable for the prisoner to stretch his hand as far towards his rescuer as possible, but he must keep some part of his body within the prison; and if a number of prisoners are captured, it is sufficient for one to remain within the prison, while the rest, by joining hands make a line towards the boy who is trying to release them. when this is done, both the prisoner and his rescuer return home, no one being able to touch them until they have reached their home and started off again. the game, however, is not only confined to the two originally sent out. as soon as a captain sees his man in difficulty he sends out a third, who is in his turn pursued by another from the other side; each being able to touch any who have preceded, but none who have left their home after him. the captains direct, and hold themselves ready in case of an emergency, and the side wins which imprisons the whole of the boys upon the other side. $french and english.$--choose two sides in the usual way. one side takes hold of one end of a stout rope, and the other side of the other end. a line is made midway between the sides, each strives to pull the other over it, and those who are so pulled over, lose the game. two captains should be appointed, and each should have a code of signals to communicate with his own side, that he may direct them when to stop, when to slacken, or when to pull hard. in this game sometimes a good captain may win even when he has an inferior team. for instance, if he sees all the boys are pulling their hardest, the captain of the other side sees that his opponents are leaning back too much, that is they are trusting to their weight rather than to their strength. he gives the signal to slacken, when down go the enemy, and are then dragged over the line with the greatest ease. if the enemy begins to be tired a united and sudden tug will generally bring them upright, and once moved, the victory is easily gained. no knots are to be allowed on the rope, nor is the game won, unless the whole side has been dragged over the line. $fight for the flag.$--a game played from a mound, and any number may play. each party chooses a captain, and having done this, divide themselves into attackers and defenders. the defending party provide themselves with a small flag, which is fixed on a staff on the top of the mound, and then arrange themselves round it so as to defend it from the attacks of their opponents, who advance towards the hillock, and try to throw down those who oppose them. those who are so thrown on either side, are called "dead men," and must lie quiet till the game is finished. this happens either when all the attacking party are dead, or when the flag has been carried off by one of them. the player who carries off the flag is called the knight, and is chosen captain for the next game. $hop-scotch.$--a game played by hopping on one foot and kicking an oyster-shell or piece of tile or stone from one compartment to the other, without placing the lifted foot, except in one case, upon the ground, and without allowing the shell or tile to rest on any of the lines. a diagram is first drawn consisting of twelve compartments, each being numbered, and at its further end the picture of a plum pudding with knife and fork. in commencing the game, the players take their stand at the place marked by a, and throw for innings. he who can go nearest to the plum in the centre of the pudding, plays first. [illustration] the winner begins by throwing his shell into no. ; he then hops into the space, and kicks the tile out to a; he next throws the tile into no. , kicks it from no. to no. , and thence out. he then throws it into no. , kicks it from to , from to , and out. he next throws it into no. , kicks it from to , from to , from to , and out; and so he goes on till he has passed the cross and comes to no. , when he is allowed to rest, by standing with one foot in no. and the other in no. ; but he must go on hopping before he kicks the tile home. he then passes through the beds , , and , as he did those of , , , , , etc., and so on, till he gets to plum pudding, when he may rest, and placing his tile on the plum, he is required, while standing on one foot, to kick it with such force as to send it through all the other beds to a at one kick. if one player throws his tile into the wrong compartment, or when he is kicking it out, he loses his innings, as he does also if the tile or his foot at any time rests on a line, or if he kicks his tile out of the diagram. we give also diagrams for simpler forms of the game. $turnpike.$--although turnpike-keepers upon the roads have long since been abolished, there is no reason why the game of turnpike, played with hoops, should be played no longer. any number of boys may play, but we will suppose there are six. one should have a hoop and the others will then be turnpike-keepers. these take two stones or two bricks and place them about two inches apart upon the ground. we may call each pair of stones or bricks the toll-bar, and each toll-bar should be some distance from the others. it is the task of the boy with the hoop to pass between the stones without touching them, and if he goes through the five then he turns and comes through them again from the other side, and so on until he fails. if he touches a toll-bar then the keeper of the bar takes that hoop, and he who had hitherto been driving the hoop becomes the keeper of that particular toll-bar at which he failed. if the hoop driver touches his hoop with his hands, or allows it to fall he must give it to the nearest toll-bar keeper and take his place while the toll-bar keeper becomes a hoop driver. each keeper must stand upon that side of his toll-gate which is towards the right hand of the hoop driver, so that when the hoop driver returns he must cross to the other side of his toll-bar. if he is on the wrong side the hoop driver need not trouble to pass through his toll-bar at all. if the boys prefer it there may be more hoop drivers and fewer toll-bar keepers. $posting.$--places called posting-stations are formed at regular intervals in a large circle or oval, and at each place a player takes his stand. every player, except the hoop driver, has charge of one of these stations. suppose there are seven players--a, b, c, d, e, f, and g, and that g holds the hoop. the other six players having taken their places, g starts from the station belonging to f, and drives the hoop towards a, who waits, with hoop-stick in hand, ready to relieve g of his hoop. g stops at the posting-station, while a runs the hoop to b, who takes charge of it, and delivers it to c. c trundles the hoop to d; d takes it to e; e to f, and f conveys it to the first player, g. in this way the game continues, until all the players have worked round the circle five or six times. the game is rendered more boisterous by increasing the numbers of players, and having two or three hoop drivers. do not touch the hoop with your hands, and do not let the hoop fall. $fox.$--one player is called fox, and he has a den where none of the players may annoy him. the other players arm themselves with knotted handkerchiefs, and wait for reynard's appearance. he is also armed with a knotted handkerchief, and hops out of his den. when he is out, the other players attack him with their handkerchiefs, and he endeavours to strike one of them without putting down his other foot. if he puts down his foot he has to run back as fast as he can, without the right to strike the other players, who flog him the whole way. if, however, he succeeds in striking one without losing his balance, the one so struck becomes fox; and, as he has both feet down, is thrashed to his den. $drop ball.$--a line must be drawn three feet from the wall at which this game of ball is to be played. the player must kneel outside this line, and never cross it; if the ball falls inside the line it is reckoned a miss. each time the player throws up the ball and catches it it counts a point. there are many ways of playing this game. . throwing the ball and catching it before it touches the ground. . clapping the hands after throwing, before the ball touches the ground. . putting one knee to the ground before catching the ball. . putting one knee to the ground and clapping the hands before catching the ball. . circling round on one heel before catching the ball. . circling round on one heel and counting , , , or any number agreed upon, before catching the ball. . strike the player nearest you before catching the ball. there should not be too many players, for they would have to wait too long for a turn. $jingling.$--the game should be played on soft grass inside a large circle, enclosed with ropes. the players should not exceed ten. all except one of the nimblest, who is the jingler, have their eyes blindfolded with handkerchiefs. the jingler holds a bell in his hand, which he is obliged to keep ringing. the aim of the jingler is to elude the pursuit of his companions, who follow him by the sound of the bell within the boundaries of the rope, for he is forbidden to pass beyond it. if he be caught in the time allotted for the game, generally twenty minutes, the player who caught him wins the match; if they are not able to take him, he is proclaimed the victor. $the fugleman.$--the fugleman places himself in a prominent place, and arranges the other boys before him in a line. he then begins with grotesque gestures, which all the boys are compelled to copy. those who are seen to laugh are immediately ordered to stand out of the line, and when half the number of players are so put out, the others are allowed to ride them three times round the playground, while the fugleman with a knotted handkerchief beats the steeds from behind. chapter xiv the garden $how to dig.$--it is beyond the scope of this book to enter into all the intricacies of gardening. to do this we should need a volume larger than this devoted to that subject alone. whatever branch of gardening a boy may pursue, however, whether he grows gooseberries, sweet peas, or cabbages, he will need to know how to dig. one of the pleasures of life is to come to a garden that has been neglected or to a plot of land that hitherto has been a field and to see it gradually become a well kept garden without a weed, under the magic of good spade work. it is like subduing an enemy. the simplest way to dig is to take a spade full of earth, turn it over, and put it back where you found it. this, however, is only for lightening the soil when the garden has been cultivated already. you would not subdue an unruly garden in that way. $shallow trenching.$--if abcd is a plot of land and you are beginning at the ab end, dig out the earth abef and convey it to the dc end and put it near but off the plot you are digging. now dig efgh and throw the earth from that into the trench abef and so on for the rest of the plot. when you have come to the end of the plot there will be a trench, but this will be filled by the earth you took there at the beginning of your digging. [illustration: shallow trenching.] $deep trenching.$--the best basis for gardening, however, is a more drastic, deeper trenching than this. let abcd be the plot we are going to dig deeply. divide it into equal parts by the line ef. make the line gh - / feet from fc. dig out the earth from ghcf and carry it to x where it may be put in a heap. make the line ij feet from gh. dig out the earth one spade deep from ghij and throw it upon the heap at x. this earth at x taken from the top is known as top soil. now return to gfch and go another spade deeper, throwing the soil of this digging into a heap at y. still at gfch break up the soil there with a fork, and manure and refuse may be placed there. weeds put down here would have no chance to grow again. go now to gijh, dig out the subsoil there and put it into gfch. on the top of this subsoil so removed place the top soil from kijl. go on like this until you come to eb, when the top soil from aemn should go to noqr and the subsoil of aemn into noqr and the top soil from mnpq into ebon. when you get to df you will find the subsoil at y and the top soil at x ready for the filling of the last trench. it is important to keep the top soil on the top and the subsoil underneath. drive the spade into the earth in a perpendicular direction and the full depth of the blade. let the garden endure the winter with a rough surface so that the soil may present as many surfaces to the frost as possible. jack frost is one of the very best gardeners, and to see soil before he has bitten it and afterwards will be a revelation to the young gardener. $double digging.$--the deep trenching just described, in which the top soil was kept upon the top, and the subsoil underneath, is excellent where the subsoil is unfit for plant food, but there is a problem which it does not solve. suppose we come to a garden matted hard upon the surface with buttercups, convolvulus, grass, twitch, groundsel, thistles and other tiresome weeds, then the last thing we desire is that these should remain on top. you cannot pull up the weeds by hand because the ground is so hard that you do no more than break the weeds, leaving the roots embedded firmly in the earth. before there is any peace in the garden these weeds must be killed, and we will now describe how to do it. suppose abcd is the plot of ground. from ab measure four feet and draw the line ef. from abfe take out the soil one spade deep, that is the top soil, and put it in a heap at g outside the plot. now from abfe take out the soil another spade deep, the subsoil, and put it in a heap at h. now from ef measure two feet and draw the line ij. take the top soil, weeds and everything, from efji and throw it to abkl--kl is two feet from ab--leaving klfe empty for the present. now take the subsoil from efji and throw it into abkl, that is upon the top of the top soil you have just thrown there. now measure another two feet from ij and draw the line mn. the soil from ijnm will go into klfe, top soil first and the subsoil on the top of it. proceed in this way, two feet at a time, and when you come to cd throw the soil at g and h into the trench that will be left, top soil first and subsoil upon the top of it. the plot abcd will now be well dug, and all the weeds will be deep under the soil where they will speedily die and decay; and even supposing that the subsoil you had brought to the top is not good, you may double dig again next year and so recover the old top soil minus the weeds. any weeds that grow now may be eradicated easily from the loose soil, and even the weeds of twitch and convolvulus may be followed down and extracted. unless you have unlimited time and patience to look after them do not be tempted to leave grass paths, but dig the garden from side to side. grass paths are always spreading upon the garden and making the edges weedy and untidy. if you prefer it you may do this double digging with the plot divided as we divided it for deep trenching. [illustration: deep trenching.] $how to sow seed.$--it is not wise to sow old seed. even if they grow the plants are often without vigour. go to a seedsman who has a good character and do not buy seed because its price is low. the soil must be fine and firm, porous and moist. it must not be sticky nor dry. the seeds will not germinate until they can have both warmth and moisture. sow thinly because crowded plants do not grow well. it is best to sow small flower seeds in pans and boxes well drained, as explained in our article on window-boxes to follow. level the surface of the earth and make it firm. water it with a fine spray and then stand it in the shade for about five hours. now scatter the seed thinly and cover it very lightly with sifted earth. white-washed or paper shaded glass may be placed over the box or pan until the seeds appear. the glass will keep the air warm and moist. except in the case of the very small seeds, the depth at which they are sown should be about three times their size or thickness. in the garden do not sow broadcast, but in drills, as the ground can then be more easily weeded and kept loose when the seeds have grown. after sowing press the soil well down and then water gently so that the seeds are not washed out, and the water drains away quickly. the soil must not be allowed to get quite dry, and yet excessive moisture must be avoided. too much watering is a common cause of failure. if the soil becomes caked before the seedlings appear or patches be lifted by them, break it up with the point of a knife, and then water gently and just sufficiently to settle the soil round the plants. do not water seeds or seedlings with water that is colder than the soil, and in summer do not water until the evening. if the watering of very small seeds is necessary, stand the pans or boxes in a shallow vessel of water for an hour. for watering seedlings use a vaporiser, or dip a hair brush in water, shake off most of the fluid, and then, while holding the brush over the plants draw the hand along the bristles several times. when the seedlings are up, loosen the soil around them very gently. $a window box.$--there are not many forms of gardening that are so pleasant as that of having a window box. there need be no bearing of the heat and burden of the day, no laborious double digging, no tedious weeding, no back-aching hoeing, no hard days with the wheelbarrow. the window box, too, is not merely a fine weather friend. as you sit in your room upon a rainy day it is at the window beside you, and if your window is open the scent from the flowers comes in with every breeze. if you have a succession of window-boxes you can have a blaze of flowers upon your window sill at most seasons of the year. [illustration: double digging.] the box need not be made elaborately, and though some people do give themselves much trouble yet flowers look as well or even better in such a roughly made box painted green as most boys can make out of a packing case bought for a few coppers from the grocer. you may put plants already in pots in your box, but if you desire to grow flowers in the box itself it will be necessary to fill it with earth. before this is done holes about the size of a farthing should be bored in the bottom of the box with a brace and bit or with that more homely if unjoiner-like tool the red hot poker. these are to provide drainage. then there should come between one and two inches of broken stones and upon this the earth. as a rule this may be the ordinary earth from the garden, but it is better to add some coarse sand if you have it, and if in your walks into woods and along the hedges you can secure some leaf mould to put with the earth so much the better. well decayed manure, odds and ends of mortar and lime which the builders may have left about will all help to provide the flowers with food. there are so many flowers that look well in window-boxes that no complete list can be given. boys should be ever on the look out to find from the boxes of other people what thrives in these boxes. each end of the box should be left for climbers that will run up each side of the window, and no better plant for this position can be named than the delicate canary creeper with its pale green leaves and dainty yellow flowers. nasturtiums, too, look well in this position, and no better border for the front of the box can be imagined than the blue of the beautiful lobelia. another good climber is convolvulus major. these climbers live for one season only, but one that grows year after year is tropæolum pentaphyllum. in the winter the tubers of this plant are kept in sand and are placed in position each spring. plants that hang over the front of the box are graceful like single petunias and rock bindweed, and for the rest each boy can make a selection of his favourites for the remaining part of the box. if he likes he may have a number of boxes so that when one has had its day another may be ready. in the spring box he would have crocuses, snowdrops, squills, daffodils and such flowers; then a box with primroses, tulips and hyacinths; and after that a box of pinks, lilies of the valley, anemones, and next the real summer flowers and blooms of autumn. let the plants be watered regularly with water that is not too cold, and if it be possible use rain water. chapter xv the boy as artist it would be idle to pretend that it is possible in the chapter of a book, or indeed in a book itself, to give instruction that would make a boy an artist; but most people have the capacity to make sketches, and this is a pleasing and useful training of the eye and hand. the power to bring away a sketch of a scene that has charmed us is one well worth the cultivation, and in the making of the sketch we see many things that would otherwise escape our notice. if a boy finds he has special ability in this direction he should read the lives of artists, visit picture galleries, and join an art class, where he will be conducted through the severe discipline that leads him to drawing the living human form, amusing himself meanwhile by sketching in the lanes and woods, among the mountains, or wherever he happens to be, even if it is in the streets. $hints on sketching.$--the drawing of a cathedral with all its complexities and innumerable details is governed by the same rules as the drawing of a barn or even of a brick, and these rules are simple, and are easily stated. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] in sketching we have to draw things as they seem, not as we know them to be. the top of a bucket is a perfect circle; yet when we draw it, unless we look down upon it from a point exactly above its centre, we represent it by an oval. similarly, when we look along a stretch of railway line we know that the lines are exactly parallel, but they seem to draw nearer to each other. the rails of a fence are of equal height, and have been put at equal distances apart, but as we look along the fence it seems as though further away the workman had used shorter posts, and had put them nearer together. if we can see through a railway tunnel, it looks as though the way out at the other end were smaller than the way in at this; but we know they are of the same size. the rules under which lines seem to draw together and spaces become smaller have been called the rules of perspective, and it is important that we should learn these rules. luckily they are few and not difficult to understand, and we will learn them as we go along in drawing a few simple forms that shall include them. in fig. we have a box, its corner towards us. in the box itself the lines a b, c d, and e f would be the same distance from each other from end to end, and if they were made ever so long would never meet, but here in the drawing they meet at g. in the same way the lines a h, c e, and d f, which in the actual box are parallel or equi-distant and so draw no nearer to each other, meet in the drawing at i. in the drawing, as in reality, the lines e h, c a, and d b are parallel, and would never meet, however far we might lengthen them. the lines of the brass round the key-hole follow the same rules. let this box illustrate another matter. we move it into a slightly different position, so that we almost lose sight of the end e c a h. this end, in the language of artists, is now said to be "fore-shortened." the lines that draw nearer together are said to "vanish." the point where they meet is their vanishing point. [illustration: fig. .] we will give some further examples of the same rules of perspective applied to different forms. the young artist standing before a scene he is going to sketch should decide what point is opposite his eyes. it may be some place in a church wall or in a tree, or even in the sky. however, having fixed it, mark it also upon your paper, and then draw a horizontal line through it. (fig. .) [illustration: fig. . rigg's farm, near aysgarth, wensleydale.] in the scene we have selected we stand upon a hill and look at a farmhouse that stands upon another hill. the point opposite our eyes is the window a. it will be noticed that the lines above the eyes come down to the line of sight or horizontal line, b c. those below rise to it. lines that are parallel to each other, whether they are roof lines tiles, the tops or bottoms of windows, meet in the same point, so that if you get one of those lines right, it is easy to get all the others right by continuing them to the same point. from this sketch, and the foregoing examples, we arrive at the following rules:-- [illustration: sketch at norton.] parallel lines, as they recede, vanish to a point. horizontal, receding lines, if they are below the level of the eyes, appear to rise. horizontal, receding lines, if they are above the level of the eyes, appear to descend. spaces, as they recede, appear to become smaller. [illustration: saskia van ulenburgh, rembrandt's wife. _from a drawing by rembrandt in the berlin museum._] objects, as they recede, appear to become smaller. all horizontal receding lines have their vanishing point upon the line of sight. all parallel retiring lines have the same vanishing point as each other. all horizontal lines which are parallel with the picture plane are drawn parallel with each other, and with the line of sight. all horizontal retiring lines forming right angles with the picture plane, or with our position, have the point of sight for their vanishing point. we have here introduced a new term, the picture plane. the best way to understand this is to imagine you are looking at everything through a pane of glass. in this case the glass would be the picture plane, and if we could stand steadily enough in one place and trace upon the window pane the lines of the streets and houses, we should find the lines upon the pane following the rules we have given. many of the rules of perspective are to be seen in the sketch of rigg's farm, wensleydale, yorkshire, fig. . the receding lines of the road, the grass edges, and the walls; the front of the farmhouse is so much foreshortened that it is possible to see only a very small part of it, though the building is really a long one. we have given also a sketch by rembrandt, and a pen and ink landscape drawing made at norton in north derbyshire by charles ashmore. $stencilling.$--the use of stencils is familiar to most people in one form or other. ladies frequently use stencil plates in which their names or initials are cut out to mark linen. a commoner use is that of metal plates in which the letters of the alphabet are cut out in thin metal for use in labelling trunks, boxes in commerce, with the name and destination of the owner, merchant, or goods. it is possible that a very delicate form of stencilling is familiar to many of my readers, which is used to multiply copies of letters, circulars or notices to go through the post. the machine consists of a handle to which is attached a small wheel which has projecting from its rim a series of sharp points. the letters are formed by writing with this wheel. as the wheel passes over the paper the points pierce small round holes, sufficiently close to each other to indicate the letters, while the paper between the holes are bridges or ties holding the inside of the loops firmly to the rest of the sheet. this writing becomes the stencil. to obtain copies, the stencil is laid over a sheet of paper, and a brush charged with colour is rubbed across. the colour passes through the holes to the paper beneath, and the copy is secured. in making the metal stencil plates of letters, ties or bridges have to be left to prevent the inner parts of the letters becoming solid like a printer's. such letters as i, f, j, t, and some others, can be given in their complete form, though in the case of the f, it would be better, that is, the stencil plate would be firmer, if a tie were left where the top horizontal line joins the perpendicular stem. in cutting stencils this matter of tying or supporting all the interior or enclosed parts of the composition is very important, and should never be lost sight of. it is better to err in an excess of ties, than to risk the falling to pieces of the whole by insufficient support. the reader will perceive that if the white parts of the loops in the letter b are not connected with the outer surrounding whites, they would fall out, and the letter would stencil solid, while if only one tie is given, the loops would get out of position, as the paper swells with the moisture of the paint. instances of these ties will be found in nearly all the illustrations, particularly in the mooresque design, fig. . it is the aim of the designer to make these ties a part of the composition, and an assistance in the effect of the whole. but cases will occur where the composition must be ruthlessly cut across as in the greek design, fig. , where in one repeat the central portions are shown with ties, and in the other in its complete form. the restoration is made with the brush afterwards. the ties should be broad or narrow according to the strength of the material of which the stencil is made, and the number of repeats for which it will be used. [illustration: fig. . frieze or dado.] [illustration: fig. a. altered for vertical use.] [illustration: fig. . mooresque design for dado.] stencilling is employed as an easy method of repeating the same ornament, figures, or letters, with exactness and speed. if i desired to use the simple greek composition fig. , as a frieze in the study in which i am writing, not by any means a large room, being about feet by feet, it would be necessary to repeat it between and times. if i had to draw this in by hand, and laboriously paint it, probably the enthusiasm for art which projected the scheme would be frittered away long before i completed it, and i should throw it up in disgust and call in the paperhanger to put on the usual wall furnishing. but if the design were cut out in stencil, it would take but little if any longer to stencil the frieze than it would for the hanger to paper it, and the scheme being carried out in the other details, i should have the satisfaction and enjoyment of a room specially decorated to suit my own taste, and unique according to the originality of the design. [illustration: fig. . frieze: silverweed, frog.] [illustration: and toad.] in the article on the use of leaves which follows, it is suggested that the forms of leaves to be met with in the field, hedgerow or wood, are peculiarly adapted to ornamental purposes, stencilling in decoration of the home among others. but this use of natural forms in ornament requires taste and consideration. to stick a leaf here and another there, without a purpose or design in the composition, is not ornament. i propose, with the aid of the printer, to give an idea of the principles which govern the making of designs. the first one is _repetition_. to use a star thus * singly, is not ornament. place a number of stars side by side at regular distances between parallel lines thus:-- ================================ * * * * * * * * * * * ================================ and you have a design, elementary, it is true, but as far as it goes decorative. in place of the star put a clover leaf, a conventional flower such as is used in fig. , or a briar leaf laid slanting to the right or left, and you have a border which may be used for a light frieze or the top of a dado. arrange the stars in parallel rows thus:-- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * so that each star falls midway between the star above and below, and you have the elements of a design such as is very commonly used in wall-papers, prints, and nearly all forms of decoration under the name of diaper patterns. again, in place of the star put some other form, as an ivy leaf or a small spray. but in this class of design we shall not be much concerned in room decoration, as they are only used for large panels. another principle in ornament is _alternation_. it may be illustrated thus:-- ==================================================== || * || * || * || * || * ==================================================== in which parallel lines alternate with stars. this composition is not more crude than much of what passes for decoration at the present time. for our immediate purpose let a shapely leaf take the place of the upright lines and a flower the place of the star, and you have a more advanced border, and if the masses are well balanced and drawn, one agreeable to the eye. i think the printer can illustrate another principle of design for us in _symmetry_ thus:-- =========================================== * ! * ! * ! * ! * !=! !=! !=! !=! * - * - * - * - * =========================================== in which three exclamation marks are placed side by side at different levels, with parallel lines and a hyphen below, alternating with stars. or a simpler form still of the same principle may be given thus:-- ===================================================== + + + + + * | * | * | * | * | * + + + + + ===================================================== in which the double dagger alternates with a star. if you draw a perpendicular line up the central exclamation mark or the daggers, the right and left sides will be found to be alike or symmetrical. in place of the daggers or the exclamation marks, draw the leaves of the wild rose, one in the centre and one inclining to the right, another to the left; put a flower in place of the parallel lines, and you will have a symmetrical composition, the stalks being prolonged below. this principle of design is clearly shown in the two designs, figs. and a. a perpendicular line divides the designs into two equal parts. this is two-sided symmetry, what we are more particularly concerned with. another principle in ornament is _balance_ of _parts_. this is symmetry of another order, in which the two sides of the composition, although different in all the details, yet preserve the same weight or balance. the general effect is the same. this is illustrated in fig. , which is a design for a frieze. in no place could a line be drawn which would divide the composition into two similar parts, but by the disposition of the leaves of the silverweed there is an equal distribution of weight on either side of the design. this balance of parts is important to preserve when the design departs from the symmetrical in its arrangements. it makes all the difference between a pleasing and unsatisfactory composition, and is not to be acquired without considerable practice. the chrysanthemum design, fig. , is an illustration of this principle. it is designed for the panels of a door, or the sides of a grate, or to go round a door in the form of a vertical border, but in every case where it can be placed in pairs with the flowers away from the centre, to be done by reversing the stencil. [illustration: fig. . dado or frieze: oak and squirrels.] having thus cleared the ground for practical work, we can describe the way to make stencils. for our purpose the best material for the stencil is the oiled paper used in the letter-copying press. this will be found strong, hard, and non-absorbent. it is comparatively cheap and can be purchased at most stationers. in cases in which this paper would not be large enough, which may happen in some of the running patterns, cartridge paper, or better still, hot-pressed whatman's, if coated on both sides with knotting varnish (to be procured at any oilman's shop), would do very well. for smaller subjects, which are not required for more than a score repeats, ordinary note paper, the highly polished kind that crackles like sheet iron when bent is excellent, and has been largely used by the writer. the knife used is one with a blade that runs to a sharp point. this point must be kept with a keen edge, so that one cut will go through the paper, leaving a clear edge. hold the blade of the knife at right angles to the paper, which must rest upon a clean sheet of glass. if cut upon any yielding surface, the paper will bruise. a hone should be close at hand to keep a good edge to the knife. it is important to get a clean, square cut, with no ragged margins. to get the drawing on the paper, first make a rough sketch giving the size and general character of the design on ordinary sketching paper. if the design is symmetrical, _i.e._, both sides alike, rule a perpendicular line. draw as clearly and carefully as possible one-half the composition, that is all that will appear on the left-hand side of the line. when you are satisfied with this, place a piece of looking-glass exactly on the vertical line; you will see the image of your drawing in the glass, but in reverse, thus completing the design. if looking-glass is not available, a coat of brunswick black on one side of any piece of glass will give you a sufficiently good reflector. probably you will not be altogether satisfied with the drawing as shown complete in the glass. the lines are not agreeable ones, or pretty in curve, or the balance of the parts is not quite as you would like it. make the alterations you feel necessary, and apply the glass again. when satisfied, place tracing-paper over the drawing. this may be fastened down by drawing-pins, a touch of gum, or pieces of the free edge of postage-stamps. indicate carefully by clear marks the position of the vertical line, and proceed to draw a firm outline of the design, with, say, an f pencil or an hb. when done, remove the tracing-paper and fold it exactly down the vertical line, with the pencil drawing outside. double it, in fact. then placing it on a sheet of white paper, draw the other half, thus completing the design. put it, pencilled side downwards, on the oil paper or note-paper, and rub off with your thumb nail. go over the design, marking all the ties very distinctly. then cut out as before, taking care not to cut through the ties. in practice you will find it best to begin cutting at the ties; the paper will readily spin round on the glass so that you can follow the curves of the design with your knife. should you cut through a tie, it must be made good. cut off a slip of paper of the same size, put on some of the knotting, and when it is tacky, stick down the strengthening slip. the stencil may include more than one repeat of the pattern, the more repeats there are the quicker the work can be done. some decorators in making stencils do rather more than they intend to use when stencilling, so that parts overlap, which is done to get the repeat true. i find it better, more exact, to work from two lines on the stencil, one a horizontal line and another a vertical line. by using a needle point (a needle in a wood handle), i rule a horizontal line upon the wall in the position the horizontal line on the stencil should fall. this is altogether indistinguishable when the work is finished. then, vertically to this line, with the same point, i indicate where the repeats should fall, and then go ahead. it is a considerable help to get a friend to join in the work, as he can assist in holding the stencil on the surface to be decorated, giving you more freedom in the use of the right hand. if working alone the stencil is held with the left hand while the colour is applied with the free hand. the straight lines are not stencilled, they are run on by the help of a bevelled straight-edge. the position of these lines is indicated by ruling as above or by twanging a piece of string charged with charcoal dust in the position required. [illustration: fig. . running border.] in decorating your room, the first point to be decided is to what extent and where you will apply the work. if cost is not a great consideration, undoubtedly the best thing to do is to paint the wall over with a pleasing tone in oil colours. a frieze running round the room immediately under the moulding, the depth being according to the height of the room; a dado running round the bottom of the walls, high enough to clear the top of the chair-backs: and if the room is large enough, the division of the room into panels by ornamental columns at the corners, and appropriate divisions. a border may be run round the doors and the sides of the fireplace may receive separate attention if there are surfaces suitable for stencilling. but it is usual to apply this system of decoration to distempered walls, in which case the decoration to be applied would probably be above the dado (which would be papered in some richly decorated pattern), a frieze under the ceiling, and a border round the door. in mixing the distemper (whiting and size), powder colours are used to get the tone desired. this will vary with the taste of the reader, the use the room is put to, and the aspect, whether on the shady or sunny side of the house. do not let it be too dark, or muddy in tone: a cheerful terra-cotta, with a dash of amber in it, if on the shady side; or some tone of sage green, french grey, or peacock blue, if on the sunny side. perhaps the best way is to keep your eyes open when passing some decorator's establishment, or buying the paper for the dado, and fix upon the tone of colour you would like. then mix some harmonizing tints which will go well with the wall colour for your stencil work. you will find that if you decide upon stencilling in dark tones upon light, that it will be more pleasing to get these richer, that is more pure, than the ground colour. the three rich or primary colours are red, blue, and yellow. in mixing your stencil colours, approach these in purity, according to the tone used. these powder colours are obtained by ounces or pounds at colourmen's shops. the first thought to the beginner, if he wishes to darken a tone, is to put black (lamp-black) in. in practice this must be used sparingly. rather get your strength of tint by using pure colours. with distemper colours, you will find that they are much darker wet than dry. if you wish to employ more colours than one, each colour should have a separate stencil. [illustration: fig. . pilaster: chrysanthemums.] having made your stencils, fixed upon and mixed your colours, and indicated the position of the repeats, the next step is the direct application of the colour. this is usually done with flat-headed hog-hair brushes, about / of an inch across, specially made for the purpose. with your palette knife spread out a thin film of the colour on the palette, which may be the back of a plate, or a glazed tile, charge the flat end of the brush with it, and bring it down perpendicularly upon the stencil. don't overcharge the brush. if the pattern is irregular in its details, do every other one with one side of the stencil, and then having been round, wash off the colour from the stencil, and turn it round and do the intervening repeats. the lines are put on with a smaller brush, using the bevelled side of the straight-edge to guide the hand, using more pressure for a broad line, and charging the brush heavily with colour. brushes specially made for lining, known as fitch hair tools, cost, according to size, from - / d. to d. each. stencilling brushes cost only a few pence. the method of producing designs, stencils, and using the stencils is employed in the production of designs for paper-hangings, carpets, floor cloths, damasks and most flat manufactured materials, except that the white used is flake-white, and the colours are mixed with gum and water. the colours are known in the trade as tempera colours. the ground is laid evenly upon strained cartridge paper, and absolute flatness of tint in working out the design may be gained by using stencils. in making irregular designs, that is designs which are not symmetrical, the whole composition has to be drawn and traced. in decorating a room, there is a very considerable range of choice in the styles available, some idea of which is given in the accompanying designs, from the purely ornamental ones of figs. and to the natural treatment of figs. and . the design suitable for the top of a dado as fig. would, with a slight modification, equally suit the frieze of a room, as both are horizontal treatments; but for perpendicular applications, the designs should be redrawn. some idea of the fresh treatment required is given in fig. a, where the parts of the composition have been re-arranged to suit a vertical position. should it be desired to adopt two colours, the principle to be acted upon is to make the smaller masses darker tones, and more intense colours, the larger the mass, the lighter and more neutral the tone should be. fig. is equally adapted for a frieze or dado top. it is designed in squares, so that by a re-arrangement of the squares, _i.e._, by placing the squirrel squares under the oak-leaf squares, it can be made suitable for a vertical treatment, or for the body of the dado. in designing such patterns as fig. , where again two or more colours may well be used, care should be taken that the repeats fit well in with one another, so that no ugly spaces are left unfurnished, as decorators say, and also to prevent the recurrence of horizontal or diagonal lines. this is a failure with many commercial designs and is a fault very distressing to the eye. $how a portrait bust is made.$--the chief work of the sculptor consists in working in clay; therein lies the main portion of his art, and there are those at the head of their profession who rarely handle a chisel, and then only to give a final touch here and there after their carver has finished his work. moreover, there are many more busts made in bronze and in terra-cotta than in marble; but the initial procedure of building up is the same in all cases. the first thing a sculptor does in setting about a bust is to fix a square, upright peg, or support, about twenty inches in length, into a wooden platform eighteen inches square. the platform, in order to prevent warping, should be made of two pieces of board so joined as to have the grain of the one running transverse to the other. the peg is generally furnished with a bar, like a latin cross, and is provided at the top with what is called an armature, that is, two pieces of lead piping looped over the peg from side to side, so as to form, as it were, the outline of a head. the ends of one piece are nailed to either side of the top of the peg, and the ends of the other to the back and front of it; or the armature may consist (as some sculptors prefer that it should) of a "loop" of lead-piping, fixed to a large nail, with what is called a "butterfly" attached (see illustration). the transverse, or crosspiece, is fitted into a slot cut in the upright, and is intended to support the shoulders of the bust, the armature serving as the skeleton, so to speak, of the head. being made of lead, the armature can be bent this way and that, and twisted about, even after it has been covered with clay. this is a very important matter, as a portrait frequently consists as much in a characteristic pose of the head as in the exact representation of features, and the peculiarity or habit of the one whose bust is to be made cannot always be perceived at the first sitting, everybody attitudinising more or less at first when about to have a likeness taken. but after a while the sitter is sure to forget himself; then the natural pose comes, and the sculptor flexes his armature this way or that, and secures the right expression, in so far as the turn or "cant" of the head is concerned. [illustration: how a bust is made.] having thus prepared his skeleton, the sculptor is now ready to begin with the more important matter of modelling. but first of all he has to see that his clay is all right. the clay commonly used for this purpose is the china clay of the potter; but at a pinch any clay will do, and i know of more than one sculptor who, in his impecunious days, has been obliged to turn to the common clay of the brick-field. the essential thing is that it should not be rotten and friable, but rather elastic, spreading easily and cohering well. when the clay is too dry it is put in water over night. in the morning it is in such a state that it may be passed through a coarse sieve, and so the rough particles be got rid of. then, when it has dried until of the consistency of putty, it is ready for use. the sculptor now takes four or five largish lumps and rolls them with his hands into long strips, from half to three-quarters of a foot in length, and of the thickness of a good-sized ruler. he then takes portions of these strips and applies them bit by bit to the armature and the transverse bar, thus gradually building up the general shape of the head and shoulders. care has to be taken from the first to have an eye to the features and contour of the head that is being modelled. it is not necessary that the model should keep seated in the same attitude all the time. if required to do so, he or she, as the case may be, is apt to acquire a very stiff pose, with the result that the stiffness may be transferred to the bust. the best way is to let the sitter converse freely, and assume a natural position. by this means the habitual expression is seized, and a good likeness is more likely to be the result. when a general rough outline of the head has been secured, it is then time to begin to work for exactitude of feature and facial expression. this the artist does by putting on a bit here, and taking off a bit there. all this is done with the fingers and thumb. occasionally it may be necessary to use a tool, but rarely. the best sculptors work mainly with the instrument nature has provided them withal, the hands. with his fingers the artist has more freedom in handling his material, and in communicating to it that life-like expression which is the aim and object of his art. no tool yet invented by man enables him to enjoy such fineness of touch, or to give so much breadth or such delicacy of detail to his work, as that which he naturally commands in the use of his fingers. of course, a bust is not modelled in an hour, nor in a day. a good sculptor will finish one in four or five sittings of an hour or an hour and a half each; others will require a dozen or more. everything depends upon the facility of the artist in seizing upon expression. this will be the difficult point with the beginner. he may, after a while, get the general outline of the head and face of his sitter and feel utterly helpless to go further. but then is the time to exercise patience. michael angelo did not become a sculptor in a day, nor yet in a year. when the tyro feels that he cannot go further, it is generally because he does not see further. of course, he sees that his portrait is not like; but he has not yet learned to see in detail, in minutiae. that he must now begin to do by observing every little point, depression, curve, wrinkle, wart, hair, and so forth. and then, what his mind has learned to take note of, his hand will soon learn to imitate. all the time the work is in progress the clay must be kept moist, otherwise it will crack and fall to pieces. this is commonly done by spraying it with a garden syringe, and covering it over at night with wet cloths. when the bust is finished, if it has to be cast in bronze, or reproduced in marble, a cast of it is taken in plaster of paris; but if it is intended to fire it, and make a terra-cotta bust of it, the operation of hollowing it is necessary. this is effected by slicing off the crown of the head with a piece of thin wire or thread, and then scooping out the inside until a uniform thickness of about an inch and a half is left. when this is done the bust will be easily freed from its peg, and the armature attached to it. the next thing is to set it aside to dry. this takes some time, and only when it is quite free from all moisture is it ready to be taken to the kiln to bake or fire. the kiln in which it is fired is the ordinary one of the potter. this having been done, the work is complete. if the bust has to be reproduced in bronze, the plaster cast must be taken to the bronze casters, where the transformation will be effected. the process of making an exact reproduction in marble is generally done by the sculptor himself, or by his assistant, and is more or less a mere mechanical operation, the carvers working by points, as they are called, mathematically accurate, by means of which he is enabled to make an exact copy of the cast. when this is done the sculptor goes over it carefully with his chisel and gives some final touches by way of finish, and to add to the vividness and life-likeness, so to speak, of expression. $how to use leaves.$--there is one desirable quality in the hobby i am about to recommend boys, and that is its inexpensive character. a quarter of a yard of nainsook muslin, a tube or two of oil paint, a good-sized handful of lint or cotton wool, two or three sheets of foolscap, and as many of cartridge paper, and you are set up for any number of wet days or vacant half-holidays. the leaves can be obtained free of cost, anywhere and at any time, winter or summer, and in any number. ivy leaves do well, leaves of the black or red currant or gooseberry bushes are better, and the flowering currant better still. brambles, lime, and plane trees which grow everywhere, and most trees or bushes except holly, will give you excellent subjects. some boys know how to keep in the good graces of the housekeeper, and would "borrow" the muslin from her. (say you would like it fine.) probably one of your sisters paints a bit, and would lend you the burnt sienna tube (oil colour) upon the same terms; of course, the wool or lint you would get from the housekeeper with the muslin; while an application to the pater for some foolscap--you would prefer blue, it is more business-like--would be sure to be successful, for somehow fathers like to encourage boys when they mean to do something serious; and there is left only the cartridge paper to finish the outfit. perhaps somewhere in the establishment there is even a store of this; if not, there is nothing for it but a visit to the stationer and an attack upon the pocket-money. now to proceed. make the cotton wool into a nice round even ball, quite free from lumps, particularly at the bottom. fold the muslin to get a double thickness, place the wool inside, make it into a mass about the size of a cricket-ball, tie this tightly, leaving enough muslin free to take hold of easily. (see fig. .) [illustration: dabber. fig. .] [illustration: maple leaf centre. fig. .] next get your leaves. the front or back garden, or the greenhouse, will probably afford all you want, to begin with. choose in preference leaves which lie flat, with no bulgings or cockles; you will get much better results. put them in a dish or basin large enough to take them easily, and cover with a damp cloth. if you have to go farther afield for your leaves take with you, if possible, a tin box or botanist's vasculum, and sprinkle a little water upon them. if not able to obtain such a box, then a wooden or cardboard one must do, but pack the leaves in damp moss, if able to get any. when you reach home cover up as before. you are now ready to commence. squeeze out some colour upon the foolscap, spread this evenly with the muslin dabber, not by smearing but by dabbing, with a slight twisting motion of the wrist, taking care that the colour is evenly distributed on the paper and the dabber. then try it by bringing down the dabber upon a clean sheet of paper with a smart blow. if the colour comes away evenly you are ready to begin upon the leaves; if not, work away with the dabber on the foolscap till you get better results. patience will do it. take one of your flattest leaves, and remove all moisture from the surface. a piece of blotting-paper is good for this purpose. then, with a series of good hard raps with the dabber--don't be afraid of hurting the leaf--get the colour evenly upon the face, working as near to the veins as possible. cut a piece of cartridge paper twice the size of the leaf--and now comes the careful treatment--put the leaf down, handling it by the stalk, in the place you want it; don't shift it about or attempt any fresh arrangement. to do so would smear the paper. bring down the upper half of the paper upon the leaf, and hold steadily with the left hand. then, with the forefinger of the right hand inside your handkerchief or a cloth, rest upon the outside of the paper, taking care not to let the leaf inside slip about. you may use some amount of pressure; the colour will not yield itself up too readily. if the leaf is full of sap, less force must be used, or you will crush the tissue. now raise the paper and remove the leaf. probably you will not be satisfied with the first attempt. some parts will be faint, other parts loaded with colour. possibly also the leaf has shifted a little. if this has not occurred you will have got a portrait of the leaf, showing the cutting of the edges and the ramifications of the veins. now try again, either upon the same leaf or a fresh one. at each fresh attempt you will be getting more skilful in handling the leaf, in the use of the dabber, and the careful placing and rubbing to get the impression. and the dabber, too, will be getting into better condition. the colour will have penetrated the muslin and gone a little way into the wool. use as little colour as possible, getting the colour on rather by smart blows than any other way. it would be well to have the cartridge paper folded ready for use, in appropriate sizes, a little too large, to permit of after-trimming. [illustration: hawthorn border. fig. .] [illustration: plaque: w. veitch's creeper leaves. fig. .] you will find that leaves are not alike in the character of the surface. some are covered with hairs, like the mulleins; these will take almost any quantity of colour. perhaps you had better begin upon such leaves. others have a few stiff hairs, and others, again, are quite free from such appendages. these require least colour of all. you will find, too, that it is better to commence with the back of the leaf. the veins are usually more prominent, and the impression obtained is more interesting. there is greater difficulty in getting the colour on all parts of the leaf, close up to the principal veins, and the rubbing for the impression is harder. but by patience and perseverance, to quote the copybook, you will soon obtain pleasing results. i don't think i can tell you much more that will aid you in getting good impressions. i have recommended the use of burnt sienna, because it is a cheap and easily worked colour; but any oil colour can be used, either straight from the tube, or mixed to suit your judgment or taste. greens, olives, russets, browns, greys, yellows, or even reds, can be used. you can certainly get some startling effects with these, if removed some distance from nature; or by using two or more colours and dabbers you may graduate the tones or colours on the same leaf. suppose you want an autumn effect. mix or choose your yellow, and prepare also an orange-red colour. coat the leaf first of all with the yellow--don't use gamboge--then with the red dabber apply that colour to the end or margin of the leaf, and take off as before [illustration: leaves of the ginko tree. fig. .] you may say, what is the use of it all when the necessary skill is obtained? you will find it a very good and useful hobby even to so obtain a series of prints of the leaves of our forest trees. there are, perhaps, more of these than you are aware of. and there is another point--the leaves of any particular plant vary very much in shape. a collection of these variations, if at all complete, would be held even by botanists to be very valuable indeed. then, what a number of forest trees there are! the common and wych elms, the oak and maple, the two chestnuts, the spanish and horse--a full-grown leaf of the latter you will find a large order--the beech and hornbeam (note the difference in the margin), the wild cherry, crab, and sloe, the dogwood, the two buckthorns, the service tree, the wayfaring tree, the back of the leaf of which you will find good to begin with. a good instance of the variety in form in the leaves of one plant is the now common wall plant, veitch's virginian creeper, which i have used to decorate a plaque in fig. . the seedling leaves, too, are well worthy of collection--they vary very much from the more adult leaves. i have no need to write more upon this, as, if you make the collection of leaves a hobby, these details will come. but the use of leaves does not stop here. more than any other part of the plant, leaves are used by the designer for sculptural details, and for decoration in all its branches. but most boys are not designers or skilful draughtsmen, neither have they the time to make drawings or paintings which would give the results so easily obtained by this process. even excellent artists shrink from giving the amount of details which are secured in these transfers from the objects themselves. some applications of foliage which can be done from the leaves themselves are given as hints of what is possible. these vary in difficulty, until the results are to be described only as works of art. figs. and are applications of leaves to the decoration of occasional tables, which more frequently than not are ebonised. fig. is an arrangement of the leaves of the "ginko," or adiantum tree. when the table is ready for the varnish, apply the leaves in the positions marked out beforehand. in the illustration a band of colour is supposed to be previously painted to the shape indicated, and should be some rich olive or russet tone, upon which the leaves are printed in a lighter, say a sage green. a very good scale of colours, adapted for use on black, is used by the japanese on the trays to be found in almost any house. you may not be able to get "ginko" leaves, but several of the adiantums have fronds the pinnæ of which could be similarly used. an arrangement of maple leaves in fig. could be copied for the centre of the table, and similarly treated. by-the-by, should you in placing the leaf make any false marks, these can be easily removed while the colour is wet by wiping off with a cloth, using turpentine or spirit of wine if obstinate. [illustration: photo. mount decorated with bramble leaves. fig. .] fig. is an arrangement of bramble leaves. a very considerable variety of form is usually found on the same plant; this variety has been utilised. use pale tones of colour, and make out the stalks with a brush afterwards. it will be found useful to roughly indicate the position of the leaves by pencil or chalk after having placed them, and before applying their painted surfaces. it is intended as a decoration to a photographic mount. if the mount is of a dark tea-green colour a very considerable richness of effect can be obtained. the chief difficulty will be the careful adjustment and selection of the leaves. fig. is the application of veitch's ampelopsis to a terra-cotta plaque. you will find this more difficult, as the surfaces to which the leaves are applied are not flat, and the material is absorbent to a high degree. first give the plaque a coating of size; this will keep the colour on the surface. roughly sketch the position of the leaves in pencil; apply colour more copiously to the leaves, and transfer. when dry give a coating of quick-drying varnish. copal, dissolved in methylated spirits, will prove the most satisfactory. the end of the spray is done all at once. the stems, stalks, and tendrils are put in afterwards by brush work. fig. is the most difficult of all. it is an arrangement of hawthorn leaves in different tones of colour, and intended for a title-page or elaborate mount. the leaves can be easily obtained in considerable variety. roughly mark out the places the leaves should occupy. some are in front of others; do these first in a paler green. cut out paper shapes to cover them, and stick them down temporarily after they are dry. then, in darker and richer tones of colour, transfer the back leaves; when dry remove the covers, and touch up with a brush any deficiencies. add the stalks, stems, and thorns, and paint in the haws. there are many other applications to which these prints from leaves could be put. a branch of oak running across the panels of a door, a simple leaf upon the cover of a book, nicely done; in the making of stencil plates, for borders, friezes, and dados, or a conventional pattern for wall papers. studies for wood carving can easily be obtained from the store of prints from leaves, such as the strawberry, potentilla, goose-grass, buttercup, dandelion, and many wayside plants. when the stalk or principal vein is too succulent or thick, it would be well to pare it down, to permit of easier rubbing, not attempting to get an impression from more than one surface of the leaf. it may be useful to some readers to give the prices at which the materials may be obtained. the cheaper colours are in every respect quite as good for the purpose as the more expensive ones, and should cost about threepence a tube from an artists' colourman. a small camel-hair brush, from a penny upwards, would do; but it might be sable in preference, from sixpence upwards. you can get a good-sized sheet of cartridge paper for a penny. the nainsook muslin should be new, and of a fine quality. any holes in it would be fatal to good work. a penny or two would buy the foolscap paper. [illustration: the apparatus.] [illustration: the points.] $pyrography.$--the outfit consists of a platinum point, sometimes called the burner, an alcohol lamp, and a benzine bottle with rubber tubing terminating in a bulb as shown in the illustration. the points or burners may be obtained in many sizes for fine or broad lines. the work is done upon unvarnished wood, which should be seasoned and free from resin. sometimes designs are drawn too upon calf, cardboard, and even upon velvet, but upon these materials be careful the point is not too hot. to use the pyrography apparatus fill both the alcohol lamp and the benzine bottle half full. upon the benzine bottle put the rubber stopper that has the metal nozzle and join the bellows and the tubing. now light your alcohol lamp, and in its flame hold with your right hand the platinum point, and with your left hand work the bulb steadily and continuously. the platinum point will thus become red hot and it must be kept so. with this hot point draw upon the wood and you will find that all kinds of designs and effects are possible by using different points, and, indeed, by using the same in different ways and at different temperatures. the judicious use of sandpaper improves the general effect afterwards, and a wax finish may be obtained by the application of pure bees'-wax slowly melted in turpentine. when it is in a syrupy state apply it with a cloth, and a few days later brush away the superfluous wax and wipe tenderly with a soft cloth. the general effect may be heightened by the use of colour. the young pyrographist may practise upon some of the designs given in the other sections of this chapter, and he will be able to purchase his outfit with directions for its use. messrs. gamage, in holborn, and messrs. benetfink, in cheapside, have many kinds of apparatus and accessories. chapter xvi ventriloquism and polyphony $ventriloquism.$--ventriloquism is no more a gift than is the ability to talk or sing; it does not depend on any peculiar formation of the throat; it is, in fact, an art which can be acquired by almost any one possessing a voice of average compass (some twelve notes), together with an ordinarily good ear for music. if, in addition to these, the tyro show any aptitude for acting and mimicry, there is prospect of his becoming an expert performer. broadly speaking, ventriloquism consists in a close imitation of sound _as it falls upon the ear_, the ventriloquist effecting this by skilfully modifying the cavity of the mouth in such a way as to give his voice a deceptive character. the young ventriloquist must study all sorts and conditions of sounds and voices _as they fall on the ear_. he must become familiar with the models he seeks to imitate. he must, for example, note that a voice from the cellar, heard in a room above, has a subdued and muffled sound, many of the consonants being strangely altered, so that the words, "i'm down here in the cellar, sir!" would sound more like, "in'e down here in a zellar, zir!" again, in listening to the knife-grinder, he must observe, first the _bur-r-r_ of the wheel, and then a combination of the _bur-r-r_ with a prolonged _iss_ when the knife touches the grindstone. these little hints will, we trust, sufficiently impress the beginner with the necessity of learning _to listen with new ears_ whilst endeavouring to speak with a new voice. you will observe, too, that the character of the assumed voice is determined chiefly by the shape of the mouth. this is the more important, because misguided learners are so apt to strain the larynx. there should be no pressure on the throat, though some pressure must necessarily be exerted on the chest and the abdominal muscles by reason of the slow rate at which the air is allowed to leave the lungs; for, be it carefully noted, _the ventriloquial voice can only be spoken during a slow expiration of the breath_. consequently, the learner must exercise himself in controlling the breath, for which purpose let him practise filling the lungs with air and then reading aloud as long a passage as he can whilst the air is being slowly expelled. with regard to modifying the natural voice, every one knows how this can be done by extraneous means. a speaking-trumpet, for example, renders it loud and harsh, whilst a hand placed lightly over the mouth makes it low and muffled. at an evening party where we had been amusing some juvenile friends, a voice seemed to come from the chimney in obedience to one of the boys, who stood before the fireplace as a new fledged professor of ventriloquism, and we considered the imitation to be rather good until, upon lifting the table-cloth near us, we discovered a confederate on the floor, talking into an empty jug. this, of course, was mere jugglery, but genuine ventriloquism is to be attained by a careful management of the breath whilst _modifying the shape of the cavity of the mouth_ by a proper adjustment of lips, teeth, jaws, tongue and palate. and here let us point out that, although the best ventriloquial effects can only be produced by the mature voice, it is well to begin practising at an early age, in order to make the vocal organs strong and flexible. the present writer began experimenting at the age of twelve, only resting therefrom, as every boy should, during that beautiful period of "gruffiness" consequent on the breaking of the voice. after that we went on again, making slow headway, until one memorable night when we received undoubted assurance of our ability to deceive. it was at a party given by a bluff sea-captain in a northern town, and a young gentleman was singing a very sentimental ditty to a saddened audience, when we essayed between whiles to imitate the singer in a falsetto voice, muffled, as if coming through the closed shutters, towards which we took care to cast an occasional glance of annoyance. presently the captain rose and left the room on tiptoe, at the same time indicating by vigorous pantomime that the singer was to proceed with his song. before long a tremendous splash of water was heard on the pavement outside, and our host soon after re-entered, remarking that he had taught those young vagabonds not to mock people outside the shutters, for he'd given them "billows" from the top bed-room window. there are in reality only three well-defined ventriloquial voices: ( ) the _distant_ voice, as from the roof, the street, etc.; ( ) the _resonant_ voice, as from a chimney, cupboard, cellar, etc.; and ( ) the _falsetto_ voice. "but," exclaims the intelligent reader, "how can each voice be used for various imaginary places? will the _distant_ voice serve equally well for roof or street?" it will; and this brings us to a very important point, viz., that we judge of the _direction_ of sound partly by means of the sense of sight. a railway traveller, for instance, seated in a waiting-room, is often perplexed as to whether an approaching train is "up" or "down" until he notes the demeanour of those on the platform who can see the train coming in. it is always difficult to determine the direction from which distant sounds proceed, and frequently of sounds much nearer. but this uncertainty is of vital importance to the ventriloquist, as it enables him "to make the ears the fool of the other senses." when he uses the _distant_ voice, the audience will be unable to refer it to any particular quarter, unless the place be suggested to them by the performer. the moment he does this, however, by word or sign or mere glance even, the imagination of the audience does the rest, and the illusion is complete. it is plain, therefore, that the tyro should have some taste for acting, otherwise he can neither conceal the internal efforts he is making, nor invest his shadowy characters with any degree of naturalness. coming now to practical details, let the student attempt _the distant voice_ in the following manner. say the word "hallo!" just in your ordinary speaking voice, in order to fix the pitch. then open the mouth slightly, draw in the lower jaw a little, and firmly fix both jaws. next, stretch or arch the soft palate as in the act of yawning take a deep breath, and utter the word "hallo!" in the same pitch as before, but softly, and _without moving the lips_, endeavouring at the same time to direct the sound against the soft palate by turning the tongue well back so as to strike the roof of the mouth. at first your strange gurglings may alarm the household, and much fatigue may be felt in the jaws and tongue, but persevere and you will soon acquire a new voice of startling character. _the resonant voice_ is produced on the lower tones of the scale, the sound being forced into the nasal passages with a jerky explosive delivery of the breath. the parts against which the voice and the tongue should respectively strike may be felt by prolonging the sound of the letter _n_ on a low note with the mouth nearly closed and the lower jaw drawn back a little as before. in this way utter the sentence, "joe's down here in the cellar!" and the words will sound deep and muffled and be accompanied by a resonant hum. _remember always to keep the lips and jaws immovable_, even at the cost of mutilating your words. these will greatly improve by-and-by. the practised ventriloquist can, of course, judge the effect he is producing, but the learner, as soon as he makes any progress, had better get a companion to criticize his efforts. _the falsetto voice_ is feminine and must be familiar to all. if spoken with the lower jaw drawn in and the mouth all but closed it will strike against the hard palate and produce a thin, metallic voice like that of a child. it can also be used for "distant" effects, according to the method set forth for voice no. . the _falsetto_ voice is frequently used for "doll-talking"--a branch of the ventriloquial art concerning which, and polyphonism also, we shall have something to say presently. meanwhile, devote a few minutes daily to each of the following exercises:-- ( ) singing the common musical scale to the vowel sounds, as well as to the syllables _ha_ and _coo_. all good vocal exercises are an aid to ventriloquism. ( ) practising the management of the breath as already described. ( ) experimenting with the three ventriloquial voices. ( ) studying all the peculiarities of voices and other sounds _as they fall upon the ear_. the learner still finds it difficult, no doubt, to enunciate his words at all clearly without moving the lips and jaws, but this difficulty, though it will never quite vanish, may be greatly reduced. the vowels run smoothly enough, but the consonants give trouble, particularly the _labials_, _b_, _p_, _m_, and their first cousins, the _spirants_, _v_, _f_, _w_. as to the _spirants_, one may soon acquire the knack of sounding _f_ fairly well, so this must be used for _v_ also, unless one can hit upon that nearer substitute got by compounding _g_ and _f_. to catch this sound with lips and jaws immovable, pronounce the word _never_ as "_negfer_," quickly, with a light touch on the _g_. the sound of _w_ is well represented by that of _oo_. for the _labials_, however, demanding as they do a positive closing of the lips, we must substitute the letters _g_, _k_, _ng_. thus, the sentence, "jim broke seven of tom's pens this morning," would be rendered as "jing groke se(g)fen of tong's kens this ng-orning," and the query, "when am i to come up?" would become "oohen ang i to cung uk?" such sentences, though good for practice, are bad for exhibition, and must be carefully avoided in the preparation of dialogue. nevertheless, they look much more imperfect here than they would sound in the mouth of an able ventriloquist; besides, as nobody expects to hear perfect words from a distant source, the audience readily accepts the performer's mode of rendering them. in this connection it should be remarked that the performer may occasionally turn his face from view, and allow his lips free play, although, as a rule, either a side face, or a three-quarters face should be presented to the audience, and, pretty frequently, a front face also. we have next to deal with _ventriloquial perspective_, which appertains to the gradual increase or decrease in the _loudness_ of a sound as it approaches or recedes. attention to this will give our assumed voices just the magic touch. for the receding voice, speak more and more gently, whilst gradually closing the mouth, until the sound is shut off. for an approaching voice, reverse the process, but in either case take care to _maintain the original pitch_. this is just where beginners stumble; they mostly alter the pitch at every step, graduating it from a growl to a squeak, or _vice versa_; nor do they observe how the words spoken by a receding voice grow less and less _distinct_ until only the vowel sounds remain. the following presentment of these important matters may impress itself on the reader's mind:--good-night! good-night! goo'-nigh'! 'oo'-nigh'! 'igh'! we shall now give in outline a few sketches for the student to fill in with dialogue of his own. the "situations" will readily suggest some simple conversations well suited for effective treatment. for _the man in the chimney_, assume a voice of low pitch, strongly resonant throughout. express your belief that somebody is up the chimney, and stoop near the fireplace to question the intruder in a soft and rather high-pitched voice. then draw down the corner of the mouth turned from the audience, and deliver your answers with force, so that the sound may be deflected from the stone-work supporting the mantel-piece. your man in the chimney is a rough, cantankerous fellow, who accounts for his presence in the most absurd way, and answers with great warmth, especially when there is a fire in the grate. as soon as he begins to ascend the chimney, step back a pace, keeping your face in the same direction. to wind up, either leave him stuck in the chimney, or dismiss him by way of the roof. in speaking to _the man on the roof_, begin by taking a deliberate look at the ceiling, and then shout "hallo-o!" the answer, given in the _distant_ voice, should sound almost like an echo. before answering, turn your face to the audience, and, with the head in an easy, listening attitude, produce the reply softly on a note of _middle pitch_. the man on the roof rarely speaks more than a few sentences. the audience seem to understand how trying it is for him to converse at such a distance, so he is humanely dismissed very soon, and may then be heard faintly answering as he wanders on from roof to roof, or reaches the ground by a ladder. sometimes, however, the voice grows in strength and resonance as the man enters the chimney, and descends almost to the hearthrug; at other times, if the night is particularly cold, you may ask him to remain where he is in the silvery moonlight. [illustration: the man in the hall.] [illustration: the talking hand.] [illustration: the trap door.] [illustration: raising the trap door.] _the man in the hall_ is a capital voice to practise. with your hand on the handle of the door, parley with the rough fellow who is trying to push it open from the other side. at this stage use the _resonant_ voice, and explode your answers against the panel of the door. as the man is noisy, you may produce a striking effect by alternately opening and shutting the door rapidly, accompanying the action with a sudden swelling and sinking of the voice, remembering at the same time to maintain the original pitch. much amusement will arise if your visitor happens to be a sweep who has come to the wrong house, but insists on cleaning the drawing-room chimney. you may even put your head outside the door for a moment to remonstrate with him, and then step back suddenly with the mark of a grimy hand upon your face--self-inflicted, of course, with a burnt cork. as the voice moves away, its resonant quality should be moderated, and, in case the man talks himself out into the street, it should merge into the _distant voice_. sometimes, however, affairs take a novel turn, and the sweep, in seeking an exit, wanders into the cellar, where he may be heard making unkind remarks in accents faint and sooty. the voice of _the man in the cellar_ is a modified form of the _resonant_ voice, delivered with less force and less of the nasal quality. a fine effect may be introduced by making your man slowly ascend and descend the cellar steps, talking or singing all the time. moreover, this effect may be greatly heightened by using a trap-door made in the following manner. cover a sheet of stout cardboard (about - / ft. square) with grained wall-paper to imitate woodwork, and let it dry thoroughly under pressure, as warping would render it useless. on it paint two large hinges with black enamel, and near the front edge fix a large black ring by means of a loop of leather or black tape. the ring may be either a wooden curtain-ring or a coil of cane bound with "wax-end." to the under-side of the board glue two leather tabs, in line with the hinges, but projecting, so that the trap may thereby be fastened to the floor with drawing-pins. before the audience arrive, fix the trap-door in position, well to the right or left of the platform or other space, and take care to indicate the thickness of the woodwork on the edge which is to face the performer. under the trap a corresponding square of black tissue paper should be pinned to the floor, so that, when the trap is raised, a dark hole may appear beneath. during the performance, the trap must be lifted with considerable toil, else its flimsy nature will be discovered, and perhaps cause an untimely titter. if managed properly, however, it is most realistic, and may be employed in a startling way to convey the idea of a man raising it from below. this is done by fixing to the upper edge of the board a piece of strong black thread (invisible to the audience) at a few yards distance and attaching the other end to a strong finger-ring to be worn by the performer. the ring, if placed on a table or chair near the trap-door, may be slipped on the finger at the right moment, and will thus enable the performer, whenever he raises his arm with a gesture of alarm or of command, to raise the trap-door at the same time. doll-talking is a branch of our subject which finds great favour with boys, for it is often as funny as droll figures and smart witty dialogue can make it. the nature of the dialogue, indeed, is of much more importance here than in pure ventriloquism. the voices are easy to acquire, but not so easy to describe. draw back the lower jaw pretty well; press the tip of the tongue against the lower teeth; raise the rest of the tongue until it nearly touches (and it _will_ touch every now and then) the roof of the mouth, and then project the sound forcibly against the hard palate, just above the front teeth. the falsetto voice treated in this way, sometimes becomes almost perfect, enabling the ventriloquist to sound nearly every letter; whilst appearing to be absolutely mute. fix upon two well-contrasted characters: one speaking in a shrill falsetto, the other in a hard, metallic voice of middle pitch. figures for this purpose can be purchased at some of the london toy bazaars and conjurers' shops. a pair of large dolls, with practical mouths and eyes, would cost about two pounds, but heads may be purchased separately and fixed to home-made bodies. these heads, which represent a funny man, an old woman, a little girl and a negro, range in price from five shillings and sixpence to eighteen and sixpence, the latter kind being life-size. the pairs of dolls mostly used are styled "tommy and joey," "tommy and granny," etc. the performer places a doll on each knee and holds a lively conversation with them, often interrupted, however, by the crying, giggling, and singing of the dolls, whose unseasonable jokes and general naughtiness call down upon their wooden heads many a resounding blow. [illustration: betty bouncer.] there is a cheaper figure, however, called "the talking hand," which may be bought at almost any large toy shop for about half-a-crown. as great fun can be got from this figure, we shall now tell our boys how to make it at the cost of a few pence. get a quarter-yard of unbleached calico, fold it double and trace upon it an outline of the right hand and wrist. then cut round the outline, taking care to leave a broad margin and a long thumb. stitch round the glove, turn it inside out, and insert the hand. now close the hand, and, with a soft blacklead, mark in roughly the eyes, nose, etc. the projecting knuckles will form the nose and the thumb the lower jaw. to give the latter a better appearance fill out the tip with wadding and sew it to that part of the glove just above it. having withdrawn your hand, flatten the glove, and proceed to mark in the features more carefully with good writing-ink and a quill pen. the furrows in the face and the hair should also be marked with black ink, but the wide mouth and the tip of the nose with red ink. colour the face with powdered chalk (yellow ochre and red) rubbed in with pellets of blotting-paper. take care to make the eyes extra large and paint them with chinese white. to complete the figure, sew to the glove a cap-frill, a shawl of red flannel, and a large bow under the chin, and "betty bouncer" becomes one of the most comical creatures you ever saw, ready to talk, laugh, or cry to order, while as to singing--well, you should just see the old lady getting her top note! the chief subject of our next section will be _polyphonism_, or the imitation of various musical instruments, cries of animals, and other sounds. meanwhile the young ventriloquist will find quite enough to do in practising: (_a_) sentences containing labials and spirants; (_b_) voices saying "good-night," etc., in a monotone, whilst approaching or receding; (_c_) voices at the door, on the roof, up the chimney, in the cellar; (_d_) the "talking hand" or other figures. $polyphony.$--polyphony is the art of imitating sounds of various kinds, usually, without attempting to deceive the hearer as to their direction. it may therefore be studied independently of ventriloquism. already the art is much in vogue. we all know the boy who occasionally alarms the street with the yelp of an injured dog, or imitates the "cock's shrill clarion" cleverly enough to deceive half the roosters in the neighbourhood and make quiet people mutter of canes and constables. as in ventriloquism, so now the learner must first of all study closely the sounds he wishes to imitate. very often they may be roughly indicated in words or syllables, and this is very helpful. indeed, many words in our language, such as buzz, bang, tinkle, thud, crash, splash, and the like, originated in this very way. let us begin with a few easy examples. _knife-grinding_ sounds like the combination of a _bur-r-r_--made by fluttering the lips--with a prolonged _ss_. _sawing_ may be indicated by the syllables _shuh-szee_ uttered alternately with the difference of a semitone. _planing_ can be effectively rendered by strongly whispering _shee-yick_, _shee-ic-yick_, _ll-ll-luc_, and then _yu-yu-yook_ as a long shaving curls out of the plane. with regard to musical instruments, there is the _ta-ra-ra_ of the trumpet, the _pangka-bongka_ of the banjo, the _zhing-sching_ of the cymbals, the _pom-pome_ of the trombone, the _r-rhumbu-dhumba_ of the drum, the explosive _plim-blim_ of the harp, and the _floo-lu-loo_ of the flute, whilst the notes of a clarionet may be imitated by the player's running rapidly down the scale from a sharp nasal _pli-li-li-plan-plah_ into a deeper _glug-lu-lu-glah_. syllables like the foregoing give, as it were, an outline for the polyphonist to fill in with sound of the right colour or quality. thus, a tune on the cornet should be sung to a _ra-ra-ra_ forced through the tightly compressed lips, and the _flu-lu-loo_ of the flute, with its roundness of tone and breathiness, should be vocalised in the falsetto while the cheeks are distended with air. an amusing and realistic imitation of the _jew's-harp_ can be given in the following manner. stiffen the first and second fingers of the left hand and place them firmly over the lips, but lightly, so as to allow the lips perfectly free play. then give a strongly nasal rendering of some monotonous air whilst ringing the changes as rapidly as possible on the syllables _whanga-whonga whee-whaw whoodle-ongle eedle-ongle whow-zeedle oodle-ee whay-whonga whaw_, during which beat time upon the projecting fingers with the right forefinger as if twanging the tongue of the instrument. by following on the lines now laid down the apt learner may even become skilful enough to imitate an entire brass band, a feat which has been performed by at least one ventriloquist of our acquaintance. some sounds, of course, it is almost impossible to reduce to writing, as, for example, the hollow "skaw" and murmur produced by a multitude of skaters, or the roar of an excited crowd, but in listening to these sounds, it is useful to remember that we may often obtain a key tone to work upon by partly closing the ears--just as a painter can often find the prevailing tint of a confused mass of objects by partly closing the eyes. [illustration: phantom poodles.] [illustration: "i have to watch charlotte!"] when the young polyphonist has acquired some degree of skill, he need not be at a loss to entertain his friends, provided he is fairly resourceful as regards acting. but acting is of the greatest importance to the polyphonist. as a knife-grinder he must work an imaginary wheel, and deftly turn the blade of a table knife upon the stone; as a waiter about to "pop" a cork with a strong click of the tongue against the palate--he should first insert a shadowy cork-screw with a chirrupy squeak; and as a cook frizzling bacon, he may do a cardboard rasher to a turn on a battledore or fire-shovel. even the buzz of a bluebottle (made sometimes by a prolonged cornet note, sometimes by a stream of air forced through the compressed lips) will occasion much amusement if the performer acts the part of a languid mortal lolling behind his newspaper in the dog days, and murmuring,-- "oh! for the green of a lane, where one might lie and be lazy! buzz! goes a fly in the pane-- bluebottles drive me crazy!" then might follow a reckless chase after that fly, which should finally buzz itself crazy beneath the huntsman's handkerchief. again, the barking of dogs may not be much in itself, yet we have seen a performer cause roars of laughter by making his phantom poodles dance, tumble, and leap over chairs and through a hoop, to a lively tune on the piano. as a final step in polyphony, the learner should practise the _ventriloquial treatment of noises_. this adds greatly to the effectiveness of a ventriloquial sketch; as when the man in the cellar takes to sawing and planing; or goes home accompanied by a dog, whose barking, mingled with the shouts of the man, grows fainter and fainter in the distance; or, it may be, the moaning of the wind is heard without, while a last-century watchman proclaims the hour in a storm-tossed voice. to show how perfect such displays may become, we may instance the case of thomas ring, a conjurer who gave an entertainment before the entire english court in the seventeenth century. from behind a screen he imitated the voices of three butchers engaged in a conversation, which was presently interrupted by a barking dog. the dog having been whipped, a bleating calf was dragged in, a knife whetted, and the calf killed amid the talk and laughter of the men. all this is, no doubt, within the reach of some of our living ventriloquists. [illustration: "bluebottles drive me crazy!"] [illustration: good-bye.] and now a few necessary hints must be given in regard to the management of an audience. get your hearers seated in front of you, not around you, with the front row at a distance of at least ten or twelve feet. politely impose silence upon them, and take care to repeat your opening question two or three times before replying in the ventriloquial voice, because this straining the attention stimulates the imagination of your audience, and makes the illusion more complete. another important point--keep the assumed voice and the natural voice in contrast all the time, by means of a running fire of questions; finally, never use elaborate apparatus. besides, ordinary windows, doors, and fireplaces, an old chest, a folding screen, a trap-door, and perhaps one or two "practical" dolls, will amply suffice. ventriloquists who employ a whole family of ingeniously contrived figures--we have seen some of these dance a jig--should get them to talk by machinery as well. there is very little artistic merit in such performances. nor should the performer be suspiciously surrounded by scenery; it may cause misunderstanding, as the following instance will prove:-- a ventriloquist performing at a london theatre some years ago imitated a voice on the roof so successfully as to induce a man in the audience to ascend to the roof in search of a confederate. unfortunately, however, two other men, filled with the self-same idea, also found their way to the roof in company, and mistaking the first man for the guilty person, gave him a sound thrashing. in drawing our instructions to a close, let us point out that the proper end and aim of ventriloquism should be not to play the pranks of "valentine vox," but to afford our friends innocent amusement. of course, no manly boy would ever think of frightening little children; but he might be tempted to give older people a little surprise. it is therefore well he should know that persons altogether ignorant of ventriloquism may be wonderfully deceived. one morning, just after a new servant had come to the house, we noticed a doll in the kitchen, sitting bolt upright and staring as hard as her glass eyes would let her. so, going up to it, in presence of the girl, we shook hands gravely, and said, "good morning, dolly!" to which she sweetly replied, "good morning, sir! i have to watch charlotte!" the effect produced on the girl was so pronounced that for days after she would hardly touch the uncanny creature. on another occasion, at a house in kentish town, affairs took a more serious turn; for a young woman, upon hearing a gruff voice proceed from the chimney, astonished a company of six or eight persons by falling on her knees in broad daylight to implore the troubled spirit to unburden its mind. upon this we at once desisted, and explained, though not without difficulty, the nature of the deception. the ventriloquist should therefore use his strange power with caution, and mainly, as we have said, for the innocent amusement of every one concerned. at the same time he will reap from his studies certain advantages often lost sight of, viz., the training given to the ear as regards the nice discrimination of sound--musical and non-musical--and the command obtained over the vocal organs with respect to elocution. the whole of our instructions may be summarized thus: ( ) listen to sound intently; ( ) learn to analyze it; ( ) experiment patiently and regularly; ( ) cultivate acting. with these points in view, no reader possessing an average voice, together with some aptitude for mimicry, should fail to acquire the coveted art. some folks may fear that these practical lessons will produce ventriloquists by the score. to such we reply, rest easy, good people! ventriloquism, like every other art, requires patience and perseverance for its attainment. consequently, many a reader, sufficiently gifted by nature, will fail in its pursuit. it is the enthusiasts who will succeed, and they, after all, are the ones who deserve the reward. chapter xvii the boy as magician $cremated alive.$--the curtain rises and a young and beautiful girl, clothed in white, is introduced to the spectators as the victim who has been doomed to cremation, which will be instantaneously accomplished. the girl mounts upon a table placed at the back of a kind of alcove, consisting of a three-sided screen, and above her is suspended a big fire-proof sack, folded up as shown in fig. . the table upon which the victim stands ready for sacrifice appears to have four legs, and under this table burn, or appear to burn, four candles, the purpose being to indicate to the public that the space beneath the table is open, perfectly free, and beyond suspicion of any trickery. the sack, which forms a cylindrical screen under which the victim is to be burned, has been previously handed round to the spectators, so that they might assure themselves that it was entire, without any hole or split, lacing, or other artifice allowing of an escape from behind--a precaution invariably taken to allay the too ready suspicions of incredulous spectators. all these verifications being made, and the audience perfectly satisfied as to the _bona fides_ of the case, the sack is lowered upon the victim, a pistol is fired, and the cremation commences. flames and smoke (see fig. ) soon indicate to the terrified spectators that the fire is pursuing its destructive work. when the flames have ceased, the sack, composed as we have stated, of an incombustible material, is raised, and there is seen upon the table, in the midst of the still smoking _débris_, only a few bones and a skull (fig. .) [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. . fig. . cremated alive.] an examination of the conditions under which the disappearance has taken place does not in the least reveal the methods by which it has been so rapidly accomplished; but as it is clearly inadmissible that the sacrifice of a young and beautiful person should thus take place every evening for the simple gratification of the public, one is, of course, pushed to the conclusion that there must be some trick. and a trick there is of a most ingenious character, as will be seen by the following explanation, the comprehension of which will be aided by fig. . [illustration: fig. .] in this particular case the illusion is a happy combination of suitable appliances underneath the scene and of the well-known properties of plane mirrors placed on the incline. the table upon which our victim mounts for cremation has, as a matter of fact, only two legs, instead of four, and the two others are only seen by the spectators as a reflection of the two real legs in the two glasses inclined at an angle of degrees with each other, and at degrees with the two side panels of the three-fold screen which contains the scene of the disappearance. it is precisely the same with the two candles, which, in consequence of their reflection in the mirrors, appear to be four in number, whilst the central rod hides the edges of the mirrors. thanks to the combination of the glasses and panels, and to the adoption of a uniform surface for these panels, the reflection of the two sides in the two lower glasses appears to be but the continuation of the panel at the back. the triangular box, of which the two glasses comprise the two sides, and the floor the bottom, has its surface formed of two parts; the one made up of the top of the table itself, and the other of pieces of mirror which reflect the back panel, and pieces of material of the same colour as the panel itself. it is easy from this to understand the whole course of the operations, more or less fantastic, which the spectator watches with such breathless interest. as soon as the victim is hidden by the sack which comes down upon her, she at once escapes by a secret trap-door in the top of the table, as is shown in fig. ; she then rapidly puts into position the skull and bones, as well as some inflammable material, to which she sets fire when she hears the pistol shot. she then, closing the trap, tranquilly retires, and remains hidden in the triangular space arranged between the back panel and the two glasses until the fall of the curtain. $money dissolved in water.$--for this trick the young magician needs a glass, which may be either the ordinary tumbler or a wine-glass, as shown in our illustration (fig. ). it must be of such a size that if a half-crown be dropped into the glass, it shall, lying flat, nearly or quite fill the bottom space. the conjuror must be provided also with a glass disc, of the thickness of a half-crown, and in diameter exactly corresponding with the bottom space of the glass. this, when about to perform the trick, he holds concealed in his right hand, after the manner of _a_ in fig. . filling the glass about three-quarters full, as shown in fig. , he hands it to a spectator to hold. he then asks the loan of a half-crown, and a lady's pocket-handkerchief. taking the coin as _c_ in fig. , he accordingly throws the handkerchief over it, or, rather, makes believe to do so, for in reality, under cover of the handkerchief, he deftly substitutes the glass disc, and holds this between his fingers, while the coin takes its place in his palm. he now asks the person holding the glass to take charge of the coin also. he is instructed to hold it (the glass disc) just over the glass, the four corners of the handkerchief hanging down around it, and at the word "three," to drop it into the glass. the conjuror counts "one, two, _three_?" at the word three the supposed coin falls, and is heard to tinkle upon the glass. [illustration] touch the glass through the handkerchief with your magic wand, and state that by the time you have counted three the half-crown will have dissolved. count three very slowly, then the handkerchief is removed, the water is seen, but the supposed coin has vanished, for the disc, being of glass, lies quite invisible at the bottom; and if it fits the water may be poured away without the disc falling out, the thin layer of water remaining underneath it holding it by atmospheric pressure to the bottom of the tumbler. it is not worth while to do this unless some one challenges you to pour off the water, then the challenge should be accepted readily. the conjurer should now pay back the half-crown, but it will assist the illusion if he pays it back with two shillings and a sixpence, or in some other coins, instead of in the form in which it was borrowed. $the vanished half-crown.$--the trick of the dissolved half-crown may be varied. in this case the coin should be marked by the owner. upon finding it is not in the water when the handkerchief has been removed pretend to be anxious about its loss. say you will pay it back in instalments, and offer a shilling towards it. when the money-lender tries to take the proffered shilling it vanishes too. this is managed by boring a hole in the shilling, tying some elastic through the hole, and stitching the other end of the elastic up your sleeve. then as soon as you leave hold of the coin it darts back up your sleeve. "has that gone too!" you exclaim. "well, we must try to find that half-crown; perhaps it is in this ball of worsted," you say, as you pick one from the table. hand the ball of worsted to someone to examine and they declare that the coin is not in it. as you walk back to the table secretly exchange this ball for another. now this other ball of worsted has been prepared in this way. it has been wound round a tin tube about three inches long, a tube through which half-a-crown may be passed. when you have the marked coin at the beginning of the trick you should have the ball of worsted in your pocket, and putting your hand there, should put the coin through the tube into the ball of worsted. then take the tube away and press the ball into its proper shape. it is this ball that you now place in an empty glass, and giving the end of the worsted to some lady in the audience, ask her to unwind it. as she does so the half-crown will begin to rattle upon the glass. $magic florins.$--take four half sheets of note-paper from any table, and then borrow four florins; these florins you place upon a table about a foot apart, and gently lay the half sheets over each. you then take up one sheet and discover the florin underneath. placing the paper on one side you take up the coin, and without touching, in some extraordinary way, make it pass through the next paper. you lift it, and sure enough, there lie _two_ florins. you then lift the third paper, to find the florin you placed there. again, in the same mysterious manner you pass the coin through the paper. it makes no hole going through, but when the paper is lifted up there are the three of them. now you lift up the last piece of paper, thereby uncovering the last florin. repeating the same process, you then request one of the audience to lift the paper, so that he or she may see that there is no deception. this being done, there lie the four florins as cosy as little fledglings in a nest. the extreme simplicity of the trick is the most taking part of it. and now to explain this seeming mystery. one great golden rule of conjuring successfully is, as it were, to take your audience into partnership with you. when you borrowed the four florins of course they thought that was all you wanted. but you began the trick with one in your left hand cunningly concealed under the four sheets, all of which you hold in that hand. then placing the four borrowed coins on the table (which, by the by, must have a thick cloth on it to deaden the sound), twelve inches apart, with the right hand you take the three top sheets. this leaves you with the fourth sheet in the left hand, the coin below being held in position by gentle pressure from fingers below, and thumb above. then simultaneously with each hand you place a sheet of paper over two of the four coins on the table. doing it simultaneously distracts the audience's attention from what you are doing with your left hand; for it is at this particular moment that the trick is being performed. as you place the paper down, with a gentle and even motion of the thumb you leave the fifth coin there, too, taking great care that it does not clash with the one there already. now you have two coins under that sheet, though the audience only know of one. there is one under each of the other three sheets. you take one of these sheets up now and take the coin between the top of the thumb and fingers of the left hand, then with the fingers and thumb of the right hand you pretend to take it, but in reality you let it fall into the palm of the left hand, a feat that must be practised carefully before a mirror. you close the fingers of the right hand over the imaginary coin in them, and act as if it were there. one way of aiding the deception is to follow the right hand with your eyes as it goes away from the left, at the same time dropping the left hand in an easy unconstrained position to the side. now choosing the sheet which covers the two coins (though the audience only know of one), you place the right hand a few inches above it, and open the fingers, making some mysterious passes. of course, nothing passes in reality, but when you proceed to lift up the sheet and display the second coin, the audience will either think that they could not see it, or that you are a very mysterious person, which, indeed, you are. the remainder of the trick is only a repetition of what has been already explained; but it excites more and more astonishment as it proceeds. the bewilderment of the audience culminates in the last act, when, as before, you have pretended to take the coin in the right hand (really having left it in the left), and making the passes, request one of the audience to lift up the last sheet--there lie all the four florins. meanwhile, your left has dropped quietly to your side, the coin in it been slipped noiselessly into the pocket, and both hands are free to return to their astonished owners the four borrowed coins. this trick is a particularly effective one, requiring, as it does, no paraphernalia except what are always to be met with in almost every room. only let the beginner recollect this. he must never begin the trick without the fifth coin, or he will come to grief. nor must he accede to requests to "do it again," or he will be detected. $magic pens.$--take a small quantity of "aniline violet," obtainable at any chemist's, two pennyworth making about two dozen pens, and make it into a thick paste with water, taking care not to leave any lumps; then add a few drops of mucilage or good gum. do not add too much, or the paste will not set well. apply a small quantity of the paste thus made to the hollow part of a clean pen, within a quarter of an inch of the point, and leave it for a few hours to dry. when dry, tell your friends that you will write anything they like to tell you with the pen, but instead of using ink, you will use water. then dip the pen into the water, taking care not to show the side with the paste on, and write whatever they ask you to, the writing appearing the same as if you were using an ordinary pen. $the magic bottle.$--you will need two cardboard cases open at each end, and large enough to slip easily over the bottles; a specially constructed bottle, the upper part of which can contain a liquid, and the lower part containing an open space in which a glass can stand; an imitation bottle made of tin and large enough to just slide over the special bottle; and two glasses. with this apparatus before us we are ready to proceed with the performance. we introduce an empty glass and what appears to be an ordinary wine bottle, but which is really a special bottle, with its tin case over it, and containing a second wine-glass inside. by careful manipulation we pour the contents from the upper part of the bottle into the wine-glass, and then setting the bottle down in its position, pour back half the liquid, which now runs through a hole in the partition into the glass beneath. so that the audience sees one glass half full, two cardboard cases, and what appears to be the bottle (as in figure), but which really is our special bottle covered by its tin case, shaped and coloured like a bottle, and a second glass half full beneath it. now we show the cardboard cases to prove that they are empty, and then place one case over the glass and another over the bottle. at this stage everything depends on the talk of the performer, who, by his jokes and comicalities, somewhat diverts the attention of his audience. some excuse is now invented for changing the cases, and in doing this by nipping the one over the bottle the tin case is lifted off with it (as in fig. ), and placed over the glass, then on again raising the cases, the glass has disappeared, and there are now two bottles instead. again, the cases are put over the bottles, and again they are raised, but by nipping both the cases, the bottles are lifted with them, and now only the two glasses appear. again the cases are put on, and the bottle and glass restored as at first, and so a number of changes can be worked at will, the performer, of course, talking all the while and referring in the language of magicians to his power and skill in causing the bottle and the glasses to obey his will. fig. shows the construction of the special bottle with its two linings and the space for the glass to stand within it. [illustration] $the magic wand.$--by means of this wand (a piece of thin glass rod) we may produce fire at will. take a teaspoonful of castor sugar, and rather less than half a teaspoonful of ground chlorate of potash, thoroughly mix without friction, and place on a saucer standing on an old tray. secretly dip the point of the glass rod in sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol) and then touch the mass on the saucer. $another wand trick.$--leave the room under some pretext and bring in with you a wand that has been made hot. touch the wick of a candle, in which you have concealed previously a piece of phosphorus, and tell it to light and it will obey. it is better to use a candle that has already been lighted, because such a wick lights more readily. $the dancing egg.$--request someone to play the piano, and, touching an egg with your magic wand, call upon it to dance. it will do so if you observe the following directions. let the egg be boiled hard and brought into the room piping hot. make a small hole in the shell and through this push into the egg a quill that contains quicksilver, and has both ends firmly sealed. so long as the egg retains its heat, so long will it dance. $mystic thread.$--have suspended by a long thread an ordinary ring. let someone in the audience strike a match and set fire to the thread. it burns, but the ring does not fall because the thread has been thoroughly steeped in common salt and water. $eggs without hens.$--have a bag made of calico or similar material. have it made double and just inside the mouth of the part you keep towards you have six little pockets made. into each of these put an egg that has been blown or sucked until nothing remains in it. you may now shake the bag and turn it inside out to show it is empty, and yet you are able to produce one egg after another. one may be a full one, and if you break this the trick will seem more real. $feathers from a handkerchief.$--obtain some long feathers--the longer the better. take off your coat and lay the feathers in the left sleeve with the quills near the wrist. now put on your coat with the feathers still there. borrow a large handkerchief, and after flourishing it, to show it conceals nothing, throw it over your left arm. when you take it up again take with it one of the feathers, and when you shake the handkerchief again out drops the feather. if the feather is large and curved it will not appear as though it had been up your sleeve. repeat the process with suitable talk until all the feathers have been produced. $ink changed to water.$--fit a black silk lining into a glass vessel so that it lines the sides but not the bottom. put water in the glass and gold fish, but let the audience see nothing except the black lining. behind the glass have a spoon with ink in it. speak to the audience with an empty spoon in your hand, and then go to the glass, secretly change the spoons and pretend to take a spoonful of ink from the glass. now show the spoon with the ink in it to the audience, and they will believe the vessel is full of ink. throw a cloth over the glass and call upon the ink to change to water. remove the cloth, and with it the black lining, and there you have the water and the gold fish swimming in it. $the mysterious box.$--secure a little round box, into the bottom of which a half-crown will fit exactly. line the box with dark paper and cover one side of a half-crown with the same material. retaining this half-crown, pass the box round to be examined so that the audience may be sure it has no false bottom. now borrow half-a-crown, and as you return to the table exchange it for your prepared one. show this to the audience, keeping the papered side carefully towards you, and let them see you drop it into the box. in doing this keep the papered side upwards. close the box and shake it up and down so that the coin rattles. now touch the box with your wand and charge the coin to pass into a box, vase, or any other object in another part of the room into which you have previously placed half-a-crown. shake the box again, this time from side to side, and there will be no rattle. open it, the coin cannot be seen. now ask the audience to go to the place where you have planted the other half-crown, and while they are looking for it take out your papered half-crown. when they have found the other half-crown hand round the box again for them to examine. simple as is this trick, it is very puzzling to the audience. $how threepence vanished.$--place a threepenny piece upon the palm of your hand. close your hand, but have a piece of wax upon the nail of your middle finger. press this upon the coin, open your hand, and the coin will be out of sight. $the hat trick.$--borrow a hat, for a trick with a hat always has an air of importance. now, with a deal of elaboration, take a glass of water and proceed deliberately to cover the glass over with the hat. you undertake to drink the water without removing the hat. your challenge is accepted. you stoop beneath the table and commence making a loud sucking noise with the lips, as though you were drawing the water through the table. with a sharp "now, sir!" the curiosity of your opponent will make him lift up the hat; you instantly seize the glass and swallow the contents, saying, "you perceive, sir, i have drunk the water and i have not removed the hat." $card tricks.$--inseparable kings.--take four kings. beneath the last place any two cards, which you take care to conceal. then show the four kings and replace the six cards under the pack. then take a king and place it on the top of the pack, place one of the two other cards in the middle, and the other about the same place, and then, turning up the pack, show that one king is still at the bottom. then let the cards be cut, and as three kings were left below, all must necessarily get together somewhere about the middle of the pack. of course in placing the two other cards you pretend to be placing two kings. to guess chosen cards.--make a set of all the clubs and spades, and another set of hearts and diamonds. shuffle well each set, and even let them be shuffled by the spectators. then request a person to draw a card from one of the sets, and another person to draw one from the second set. you now take a set in each hand, presenting them to the two persons requesting them to replace the drawn cards. you must pretend to present to each person the set from which he drew his card, but in reality you present the red set to the person who drew the black card, and the black set to the person who drew the red card. to tell a card thought of.--take twenty-one cards of a pack, and deal them out one by one in three lots, requesting someone to think of a card, and remember in which lot it is. having dealt out the cards, ask him in which lot the card is. take up the lots successively, and place the lot containing the card in the middle. deal out the cards again, and ask him to state in which lot the card is; and proceed as before, placing the lot containing the card in the middle. deal out the cards in like manner a third time, proceeding as before. then deal them out as usual, and the eleventh card will be the one thought of, infallibly. this is the usual way of showing the card thought of; but, as the trick may be partly discovered by the counting, it is better to hold the cards in your hand, and take out the eleventh card, counting to yourself, of course, from the left hand, but pretending to be considering the guess. cheating the maid.--for this amusing trick you arrange the cards thus: holding the pack in your hands, find all the knaves, place one of them next to your left hand, and the other three on the table. then find a queen, which also place on the table. then say:--"three scamps went into a tavern, and ordered drink. here they are--the three knaves. 'who's to pay? i can't,' said the first. 'i won't,' said the second. 'i wish she may get it,' said the third. 'i'll manage it,' said the first, the greatest rogue of the three. 'i say, my pretty girl, haven't you some very old wine in your cellar?' here's the barmaid thus addressed by the rogue in question (showing the queen), and she replied:--'oh, yes, sir, prime old wine.' 'let's have a bottle.' off went the barmaid. (put the queen in your pocket.) 'now for it, my lads,' said the knave in question; '"run" is the word. let's be off in opposite directions, and meet to-night; you know where.' hereupon they decamped, taking opposite directions, which i will indicate by placing one on the top of the pack, one at the bottom, and the other in the middle. "when the poor barmaid returned (taking out the queen from your pocket) with the wine, great was her astonishment to find the room empty. 'lor!' she exclaimed, 'why, i do declare--did you ever!--oh! but i'm not agoing to be sarved so. i'll catch the rogues, all of them--that i will.' and off she went after them, as shown by placing her on or after the first. "now, to catch the three seems impossible; but the ladies have always smiled at impossibilities, and wonders never cease; for, if you have the goodness to cut these cards, you will find that she has caught the three rogues." when the cards are cut, proceed in the usual way after cutting; and taking up the cards, you will find the queen and three knaves together, which you take out and exhibit to the astonished audience. one of these knaves is not one of the three first exhibited, but the one which you slipped on your left hand at first. there is no chance of detection, however; simply for the reason before given--nobody suspects the trick. another guessing trick.--lay out twenty cards of any kind, two by two, and request a friend to think of two in a line; that is, one of the ten sets formed by the twenty cards. this done you take up the sets in the order in which they lie, and place them in rows according to the letters of the following words:-- +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | c | i | c | o | s | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | d | e | d | i | t | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | t | u | m | u | s | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | n | e | m | o | n | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ you may use a diagram like the above, but as the words are easily retained it had better be dispensed with, distributing the cards on the table just as though upon the diagram, which will make the trick more puzzling and extraordinary. proceed as follows:--place the cards two by two on similar letters: thus, place the two cards of the first set on the two d's in _dedit_; the two cards of the second set on the two _i'_s of _cicos_ and _dedit_; the two of the third set on the two _c'_s, and so on with the ten sets. all the letters of the words being thus covered, ask the friend who has thought of the cards to tell you in which lines these cards are. if both are in the first line (_cicos_), they must be those on the two _c_'s; if they are both in the second line, they cover the _d_'s in _dedit_; both in the third line, they cover the _u_'s in _tumus_; both in the fourth, they cover the _n_'s in _nemon_. if one be in the first line and the other in the second, they cover the _i_'s in _cicos_ and _dedit_, and thus of the rest--the two cards thought of _necessarily_ covering two _similar letters_, whilst each of the letters occurs only _twice_ in the diagram. to tell a card thought of.--take any number--say twenty. pretend to shuffle them with the faces towards you and remember the first card as you close the pack--say, the ten of diamonds. tell the friend that the only condition you require is to be told the order in which the card is dealt out by you; in other words he must tell you whether in dealing it comes out first, second, third, etc. remembering your first card, you may then turn your back to him, and deal out the cards one by one, and one upon the top of the other, requesting him to think of a card and its order as before said. then take up the cards, and shuffle them repeatedly by throwing a portion of them from the bottom to the top, taking care not to mix the cards or letting any drop, and then let the friend cut them as often as he pleases. then take the cards in hand. pretend to examine them mysteriously, but in reality only look for your card--the first dealt out--the ten of diamonds, for instance. now, suppose he tells you that the card he thought of came out fifth. then, for a certainty, it is the fourth card on the right of the ten of diamonds, in spite of all shuffling, for shuffling cannot alter the order or sequence of the cards. always remember to count from your own card inclusive to the number of the card thought of towards your right hand. but, should your card happen to be so near the right hand or the top as not to allow sufficient counting, then count as far as it admits to the right and then continue at the left. thus, suppose there are only two cards above the ten of diamonds, then count two more on the left, making the fifth. if the card you remember, or your first card, is first, then count the requisite number on the left, always beginning with your card, however. the reason of this trick is simply that by merely cutting the cards and shuffling them in the way indicated, you do not alter the sequence of the cards. another method.--form three ranks of five cards each, and request a person to think of one of these cards, and tell you in which rank it is. take up the cards of the three ranks, taking care to place the cards of the ranks in which is the card thought of between those of the two other ranks. make three more ranks as before. ask him again in which rank the card is, and take them up, placing the rank in which the card is between the two others. operate in like manner a third time, and the card thought of will infallibly be the third of the rank named. observe, however, you must not form each rank with five consecutive cards; but you must place the cards one by one, placing one successively in each rank: thus, one at the top on the left of the first rank, one below that first for the second rank, one below the second for the third rank, then one in the first, one in the second, one in the third, and so on. this trick, which is very easy, always produces a great effect. it only requires a little attention, and it can never fail unless you make a mistake in arranging the cards. to tell chosen cards.--the cards may be easily divided into two numerical parts, even and odd: by taking a king for four points, a queen for three, a knave for two, and the other cards for their especial points, we may make up two sets of sixteen cards each, the even composing one, and the odd the other. these two sets being before the performer, he takes one, shuffles it well, and lets a person take a card. he then takes the other, shuffles it, and lets another person take a card. then, whilst each person is looking at his card, which he is requested to do, the performer dexterously changes the place of the two sets, and he requests them to replace the cards in the set whence they took them. it follows that he who took a card from the even set places it in the odd set, and he who took it from the odd set places it in the even set. consequently all the shuffling and cutting in the world will be useless, for the performer has only to spread out the cards of each set to point out the cards drawn. singular arrangement of sixteen cards.--take the four kings, the four queens, the four knaves, and the four tens of a pack, and ask if there be any one in the company who can form a square with them in such a manner that, taken in any direction, from right to left, from the top to the bottom, by the diagonal--anyhow, in fact--there will always be in each line a king, queen, knave, and a ten. everybody will think the thing easy, but it is certain that no one will succeed in doing it. when they "give it up," take the sixteen cards and arrange them as follows, when the king, queen, knave, and ten will stand as required. +----------+----------+----------+---------+ | ten | jack | queen | king | | of | of | of | of | | spades. | clubs. | diamonds.| hearts. | +----------+----------+----------+---------+ | king | queen | jack | ten | | of | of | of | of | | spades. | hearts. | diamonds.| clubs. | +----------+----------+----------+---------+ | jack | ten | king | queen | | of | of | of | of | | hearts. | diamonds.| clubs. | clubs. | +----------+----------+----------+---------+ | queen | king | ten | jack | | of | of | of | of | | spades. | diamonds.| hearts. | spades. | +----------+----------+----------+---------+ the card that cannot be found.--take any number of cards and spread them out fan-like in your hand, faces fronting the spectators. ask one of them to select a card. you tell him to take it, and then to place it at the bottom of the pack. you hold up the pack, so that the spectators may see that the card is really at the bottom. suppose this card is the king of hearts. then, pretending to take that card, you take the card preceding it, and place it at a point corresponding to a in the following figure. a c b d you then take the card drawn, namely, the king of hearts, and place it at the point corresponding to b in the above figure. finally, you take any two other cards, and place them at c and d. of course, the cards are placed face downwards. after this location of the cards, you tell the person who has chosen the card that you will change the position of the cards, by pushing alternately that at the point a to b, and that at d to c, and _vice versa_; and you defy him to follow you in these gyrations of the card, and to find it. of course, seeing no difficulty in the thing, and believing with everybody that his card is placed at the point a, he will undertake to follow and find his card. then performing what you undertake to do, you rapidly change the places of the cards, and yet slowly enough to enable the person to keep in view the card which he thinks his own, and so that you may not lose sight of the one you placed at b. having thus disarranged the cards for a few moments, you ask the person to perform his promise by pointing out his card. feeling sure that he never lost sight of it, he instantly turns one of the cards and is astonished to find that it is not his own. then you say:--"i told you you would not be able to follow your card in its ramble. but i have done what you couldn't do: here is your card!" the astonishment of the spectators is increased when you actually show the card; for, having made them observe, in the first instance, that you did not even look at the drawn card, they are utterly at a loss to discover the means you employed to find out and produce the card in question. chapter xviii pets $cavies or guinea pigs.$--in starting these little chats, suppose we commence with cavies. some who ought to know better have said that cavies are very dull, stupid little animals, but i entirely disagree with this, as will also the lad who has kept them for ever so short a time; they are bright, intelligent little fellows, and most pleasant to make pets of, and although they belong to the rodent or rat family are not the least vicious. cavies are extremely clean in their habits, very handsome in colour, and if their little houses are kept clean there is no disagreeable smell from them. now before you buy your "guineas" you should build and furnish their house, and i will proceed to tell you how to do this. the selection of a suitable place comes first. if you live in the country there is generally an outhouse or wood-shed, and if so here is the spot to commence operations; if, on the other hand, you only have a small garden or back-yard, then select a spot in it which gets a fair share of pure air and sunlight, and which is protected from the cruel east winds. the smooth-haired cavy must have a hutch not less than ft. long, to in. from front to back, and about the same height. let the floor of your hutch have a slight fall to the back so as to carry off the moisture; the roof must also have a slope, and should be covered with tarred felt, or brown paper well tarred and sanded, which makes a capital waterproof covering. in the front of your hutch have a closely and well-fitting wooden door, large enough for you to clean out the interior comfortably; the other portion of the front must be covered with wire netting of a very close mesh. be sure that your doors fasten securely, as some cavies have a habit of shaking them, and if not properly secured, open comes the door and out drops poor guinea, who is almost sure to be killed. it is always best to have the hutch two or three feet from the ground, and resting on four legs, which is much better than nailing it to the wall. after having got so far, go carefully over your work to see that there are no cracks or crannies in your hutch, as these let in draughts, which lead to disease and death. cover the floor of the hutch with fine sawdust, and over this some sweet chopped hay, and your house is ready for its occupants. without going fully into the history of the cavy, i may say that it is a native of south america, where in many parts it is very numerous. in its wild state the cavy, where the ground is suitable, burrows like a rabbit; in damp, marshy places it hides under the many plants that flourish in such neighbourhoods. they are not difficult to catch, and not being of a savage nature are easily tamed. in their native haunts they are greatly esteemed as an article of food, and although i have never had the pleasure of tasting cavy flesh, i am told by those who have, and who are well able to give an opinion, that it is delicious; and i see no reason to doubt it, as cavies are exceedingly cleanly in their habits and feeding. there are several varieties of cavies, and as these are bred in almost every colour they afford the greatest pleasure, not only to the lad who is fond of experimenting, but also to hundreds of men and women. that the various colours can be easily bred and well fixed, has been proved beyond doubt by the many handsome little specimens that are to be seen at any of our exhibitions to-day. as we have them now, we may for our purpose divide the cavy into three classes or divisions, namely, long-haired (peruvians), rough-haired (abyssinian), and smooth-haired; but before going on with their description i would like to say a word as to handling them. this may seem superfluous, but it is not so, as they are easily injured; therefore, when you have occasion to lift your pet put your finger and thumb of the right hand round its neck, not tightly, but sufficiently firm to hinder it slipping, gently raise it and place it on your left hand, and so it can be safely lifted about and handled. in mating your cavies remember that the boar (male) controls the colour and outward characteristics of the future family, consequently he should be as typical in colour and shape as possible, and not younger than ten or twelve months; the sow (female) must not be less than about six months old, and in selecting her see that she is very tame and gentle, as she gives the inward characteristics to the young ones. of course, in keeping cavies, as in any other variety of pets, a very great deal depends on the individual fancy, and, therefore, i shall give a short description of the three classes mentioned, and leave you boys to select which you think will give you the greatest pleasure. the peruvian cavy.--the peruvian cavy is noted for its long hair, which is its chief characteristic, and when nicely combed and brushed it would be hard to find a handsomer little fellow. the hair grows right over its head and face, so that it is sometimes difficult to see either its eyes or ears; yet its beautiful bright eyes are always on the look out, and can see you and all your movements. on the body the hair grows to such a length that it trails on the ground, some actually having it as long as seven or eight inches. the hair or fur should be as long, soft, and silky as possible, and to keep it in proper order a good deal of attention is necessary; it grows very evenly from a natural parting, from the crown of the head to the stern, falling over to each side, and to keep your pet neat and trim as well as healthy you must brush its coat regularly, using a soft brush, and if any part is matted take a wide-toothed comb and very gently comb it out. you boys know what it is to comb your hair when it is matted, and how it hurts if roughly done. remember, therefore, that without care you will not only cause your pet pain, but, as the fur or hair on it is only, comparatively speaking, slightly attached to the skin, carelessness will result in pulling it out, thus leaving bare and unsightly patches. if, however, the brush is regularly used, there will be little or no need of the comb. the abyssinian cavy.--the next variety that claims our notice is the quaint little abyssinian or rough-haired cavy. unlike the peruvian, the hair of the abyssinian is short and hard or rough to the touch, and instead of growing all one way it is rosetted, as it were, in bunches, each rosette or bunch being separate and distinct, and the more evenly these are distributed over the body the more charming the result. what do my readers think of one of these little fellows--a beautiful tortoiseshell, very well rosetted, and with short, hard hair, being sold for upwards of £ ? but such is a fact. it was bred by a lady who takes a very great interest in master cavy, and who exhibits some most beautiful specimens, and it was disposed of for the sum mentioned. the abyssinian is a hardy little chap and must not be "coddled" up in a warm hutch. keep him dry and sheltered from draughts and he will thrive merrily. smooth-haired cavies.--last, but not least in any shape or form, comes the smooth-haired variety, which you boys all know, i am sure, and which is, as it fully deserves to be, the favourite. the coat of the smooth-haired cavy is soft and velvety to the touch, and the immense number of colours in which it is now bred makes it a most delightful little pet. i will not go through the many different colours further than to mention that we have them black, white, golden, brown, grey, red, and the various sub-divisions and blendings between these colours. the cavy has a good-sized head, is roman-nosed, has a very thick, or bull, neck, and a nicely rounded body, tapering towards the stern; eyes full and bright, and small, neatly-shaped ears; his whole make-up giving him the appearance of a cheerful, happy, and contented little fellow. now, as to feeding, remember that regularity and cleanliness must be observed, and that a variety or change in food is very much relished, and is necessary for the health of your cavies. for breakfast, which give early, provide some bread and milk sop, in which now and again put a piece of boiled potato; and as a change, in cold weather some barley-meal, scalded in boiling water and made into a nice crumbly mass. this latter is very warm and comforting, too, for supper, in cold frosty weather. as dry food, you must have good sound oats, wheat, a few crushed peas, bran, and hay. green food must on no account be overlooked, as it is one of the most valuable things for keeping the blood cool and the stomach in proper working order; but remember that all green food _must be fresh_ and dry. almost any green stuff is relished, but there are a few kinds that are very good: lettuce, cabbage leaves (not too many), parsley, celery tops, carrot, turnip, beet-root, chickweed, groundsel, and chicory. clean water must be always at hand, and a drink of milk now and then is much appreciated. as cavies are very apt to scratch their food all over the hutch, and so waste a lot of it, you should always feed in dishes or troughs. the heavy earthenware troughs, with flanged edges, which are used for rabbits, are best, as they cannot be upset, nor the food scratched out easily. i prefer earthenware to any other material, as it is so easily cleansed, and there is nothing about it that will poison or give a disagreeable taste to the food. though water and dry food should always be at hand for your cavies, never leave soft food or greens long in the hutch, as these soon become tainted, and if eaten in that state bring on disease. let them eat their fill of soft food and greens, and then take away any that is left. the lad who pays proper attention to his pets will soon be able to gauge to a nicety the amount of food they require. $rabbits.$--if you have sufficient pocket-money you can buy a hutch ready-made, or you can build it on similar lines to that for cavies, but of course much larger. for ordinary-sized rabbits a hutch - / ft. long by or in. will do, but for lop-eared and belgians it should be - / ft. by ft.; whilst for flemish giants ft. by ft. it is always preferable to have your hutch in some outhouse, where, though the inmates will have plenty of fresh air, they will be protected from very cold winds and rain. as there is a deal of moisture from rabbits, it is a good plan to have the floor of the outhouse cemented and connected with a drain, so as to carry off the wet that comes from the hutches; but as this cannot always be managed by boys who keep a few rabbits as pets, you should have a piece of guttering fixed along the back of the hutch and so placed that it will drain into a pail, in which put some sawdust and a little disinfectant, which will keep down any unpleasant smell. this pail you must empty every two or three days. in every hutch i like a part of it boarded off as a sleeping-room, which can be easily done by making a wooden partition and slipping it into the hutch, allowing a space of inches for this purpose. this partition must have a hole cut in it large enough for the rabbits to pop in and out comfortably. over this part of the hutch you must have a well-fitting wooden door, not only to keep them warm, but to darken the nest and so make them comfortable. in giving your rabbits their food, remember that you cannot measure the quantity exactly, any more than you can say that because you have eaten so much to-day you will want exactly so much to-morrow and every day during the week. study and observation are the only true guides. in giving soft food and green food let them have as much as they eat up _greedily_ and no more. feed twice a day, as early as possible in the morning and about sundown. in the morning give soft food, such as barley-meal, pollard, sharps, middlings, and bran, which mix with scalding water into a soft, rather crumbly than sticky mess. a few tea-leaves in the soft food now and then is a nice change. of course, these foods must not be all mixed together, but given on different mornings, so as to provide a nice variety. as there is not much feeding in bran it should always have one of the other foods mixed in it. when they have had breakfast put sufficient corn into their troughs to last them all day to nibble at, and for this oats are best; but as a change, once or twice a week crack up some barley for them. a feed, once a week, of grey peas, steeped till well soaked, will also be much relished. bits of biscuit and dry, stale crusts are also good, and can be given at any meal. for the evening feed give a bit of sweet hay, dry, sweet clover, and green food of almost any description that grows, so long as it is fresh and dry. it is impossible here to mention all the greens they will eat, but amongst others i may mention parsley, chicory, dandelion, lettuce, cabbage, celery, clover in flower; carrots, turnips, and mangolds (a slice or two) are very good. be very careful not to leave any soft food or greens lying about the hutch, as they soon spoil, and not only smell offensively, but injure the rabbits. on the floors of your hutches spread sawdust (pinewood sawdust is first-rate when it can be had), and over this some nice clean straw; and always keep in the hutch a little of one of the many disinfectants that are now manufactured. drinking vessels and feeding troughs should all be made of glazed earthenware, the latter having a flange round them to prevent the rabbit scratching out the food, and being heavy enough to prevent them being pulled about and upset. once more, do not neglect cleanliness and regularity in feeding. the lop-eared rabbit.--one of the oldest varieties of the rabbit when these were first taken in hand and bred as fancy or domestic stock, was the lop-ear; and so, paying reverence to his age, i will give him the first place. at the majority of rabbit shows i see lads and young men, as well as old ones, congregated in eager groups round the pens containing the lops, or, as they are sometimes called, the king of the fancy. i need scarcely tell our boys that the great feature in the lop rabbit is the immense lop or hanging ears. well do i remember in the early days how proud the owner of a lop was if he could show to those assembled a specimen whose ears measured from tip to tip inches; yet to-day, such a rabbit (if an adult) would not be looked at by the judges in a show, for specimens inches and upwards are now produced. in measuring the ears you must understand it is done as follows: take hold of one ear, lay it flat out full length, but not stretching it to hurt the rabbit, then place a rule at the extreme tip of the ear, pass it along, across the head, and so on to the tip of the other ear, which must be held out at full length as was the other, and so you have the proper measurement of your specimen so far as length is concerned. besides this, however, you want width of ear, and this should, roughly speaking, be one quarter the total length, measured across the widest part of one ear. the ears of the lop must be as long as possible and wide in proportion; not set on too closely on top of the head; thick at the root, and fall gracefully down the sides of the cheeks, nicely rounded at the tip and free from knots or lumps; the head large, with full, round, bright eyes. the body, when in repose, should be rather low at the shoulders, rising in a graceful curve to the hind quarters, which should be gradually and nicely rounded off, the head resting on the pouch or dew-lap; the tail must be straight, and carried close to the body, and the fore-legs straight and strong. lops are bred in various colours, such as black, yellow, fawn, blue, grey, and tortoiseshell, so that there is any amount of room for experimenting. some people, i am sorry to say, have the absurd idea that constant pulling and stretching the ears of their rabbits, whilst even in the nest, greatly helps to lengthen them, but like many cruel and ignorant ideas it is altogether wrong. all that lop rabbits require to develop the length of ear and keep them healthy is regular feeding, cleanliness, and being kept at a temperature of from to degrees fahrenheit; to secure which, during spring, autumn, and winter, artificial heat must be supplied, the best for the purpose probably being hot-water pipes. lops breed freely, but, as the young ones require a good deal of nourishment, the doe should, in order not to weaken her too much, only be allowed to bring up two or three, the others being given to nurse-does or foster-mothers, which can generally be had easily if a little trouble is taken to enquire for one or two amongst friends who keep rabbits. a healthy common rabbit makes a good foster-mother. the himalayan rabbit.--it would be difficult to find a more handsome little rabbit than the himalayan, and as it is one of the healthiest and hardiest of the coney family, i propose to give a few particulars of it. to commence, then, the himalayan, or, as it has been called, the chinese rabbit, has a perfectly white body, with dark chocolate-brown (as nearly black as can be) ears, nose, feet, and tail, and pink or rich golden eyes, the whole appearance being that of a very handsome animal. the ears must be short, close together, and stand very erect, so much so that if you bend them in any direction they immediately spring back into their proper position when released. the eye is round, bright, and rather full, and as i have just said, pink or rich golden in colour; the shape is very graceful, rather long than short or stumpy, giving it all the appearance of a thoroughbred animal. the coat is short, pure white, and fine and silky in texture, and the weight of a full-grown specimen should not exceed about six lbs. the fur is greatly in request for the making of imitation ermine, and good skins are always saleable to the manufacturers. now that we have this beautiful little rabbit in our hutch, how are we to preserve its distinctive markings in all their beauty? for be it remembered that the white turns yellow, and the black or dark brown markings grey, unless proper attention is paid to them. in chinese or russian markets where these rabbits are on sale, we are told that the colour, especially on the feet, is not so distinct as is seen in our domestic specimens; and this i can quite understand, as, with their constant burrowing and scratching amongst damp sand, earth, lime, etc., the colour on the feet will soon be affected. a very great deal of care is bestowed by those who exhibit himalayans in order to have their handsome markings as even as possible; for instance, the ears, from roots to tips, should be as dark as possible, and the nose the same colour, as well as all four feet and tail. this is often difficult to get; still, were it all as simple as a b c, there would be little honour in producing what any one else could produce without trouble. as on many other questions, considerable discussion has been carried on as to how best to preserve the distinct colour. many argued that the rabbits should be kept in entirely dark hutches, as they said the light not only destroyed the colour, but the rabbits in their wild state lived in dark burrows; just so, but these people forgot that such of the wild specimens as are to be seen in the foreign markets are not of that dark or nearly black colour, especially so far as their feet are concerned, as are those which are domesticated. others took up the extreme opposition view, and recommended as much light as possible. these latter were further astray than their "dark" opponents, for there is no doubt that constant exposure to the full light does destroy the purity of both black and white. another thing that was overlooked by the advocates of light was that too much exposure to light affected the eyes of the himalayan, which, as i have said, are pink, for it is a well-known fact that human beings, as well as animals and birds who have pink eyes, avoid a strong light. himalayans are best provided for in a partially darkened or shaded hutch, and this can be easily arranged, especially if the hutch stands in an outhouse or shed; if not, then partially cover the front with a bit of sacking or anything that will keep off the full glare. if your himalayan is allowed to sleep or sit about in a wet hutch the colour of the feet will soon be destroyed; but if the hutch is built as i previously described, all water from the rabbit will soon run away. however, in the case of the rabbit under notice, it is best to make "assurance doubly sure," so, on the bottom of your hutch put a nice layer of fine sand or sawdust, and over this straw or dried ferns, then any water will run through and be absorbed by the sand or sawdust, which should be raked over each morning, and renewed once a week. do not give your himalayan too much green meat, and never any that is wet or stale, as they are rather prone to scours. a few acorns are always a valuable thing to have on hand, and immediately bunny is seen to be relaxed; give one or two, and you will soon see the great good they will do. silver and angora rabbits.--amongst the many beautiful specimens that are to be seen now-a-days at exhibitions and in the rabbitries of breeders, the silver varieties hold a deservedly high place. the various colours include silver grey (light, medium, and dark shade), silver brown, silver cream, silver fawn, and silver blue. the silvers are of medium size, and should weigh between six lbs. and seven lbs., be compactly built, having a very neat head, ears moderately short, clear bright eyes, and with that general appearance of activity that denotes a healthy constitution. the coat or fur is close-fitting and smooth to the touch. the skin or ground colour of the silver grey should be blue, the fur consisting of black, white, and blue hair, and, according to its distribution, so we have the three shades of light, medium, or dark, as mentioned. when the silver grey is born it is black, the colour only beginning to develop between the age of one and two months, and being fully developed at about five or six months, when their coats are very handsome. some breeders, in order to get the silvering as quickly as possible, help nature by keeping their pets in artificially heated hutches; they succeed in thus accelerating development, but, as we have found from many years' experience, those who so interfere, and think they know more than mother nature, have generally to pay the penalty for their presumption; for rabbits, too quickly developed, although their coats have a beautiful appearance, do not continue so long in that grand bloom and brightness that denotes the rabbit that has been allowed to get its coat as nature intended. all the warmth that is necessary can be obtained by having the hutches water-tight, kept clean, and protected from the extremes of heat and cold. during the years the silver grey colour was being perfected, it is needless to say, crosses of various colours had to be resorted to, and amongst these were white rabbits, which naturally threw offspring with white or very pale ground (skin) colour in many cases, and as the fur grew, it was observed that the white hair predominated, giving the rabbit a cream or fawn colour, the lighter being designated creams, whilst the darker (or medium) were called fawns. the silver brown was another outcome of the various crosses, the belgian, wild english, and common grey hutch rabbit, all leaving their trace in the silver variety, the under coat and top coat being, as the name denotes, a brown colour; this colour, pretty as it is, is not so "taking" to the eye as the other handsome ones are, and so it has not been kept or bred so carefully as the foregoing colours mentioned. the silver blue is still a rare colour, and has not yet reached anything like such perfection as the others; a correct blue, whilst evenly silvered, should show a beautiful blue colour all through. although not so frequently seen, the angora is an exceedingly handsome rabbit, but needs a good deal of attention to keep it as it ought to be. the great feature of this breed is the immense length of its wool--not hair, mind, boys--which should be of the finest quality, soft as silk, pure white, and well distributed all over the body; the face and ears have less wool, in proportion to the other parts, but finer and more silky. the head is not very broad, and is surmounted with a pair of small and neatly-shaped ears, the eyes being pink and bright, a beautiful contrast to the snow-white wool. the weight should not exceed seven lbs. or eight lbs., although from the amount of wool they carry, they look very much heavier. angoras must be kept in large hutches, on the bottoms of which have nice, clean, soft, oat straw. to keep their coats in proper order, they must be gently combed and brushed at least every other day, care being taken to pull as little wool out as possible. should any part of the coat become matted, do not "tug" at it with the comb, which should be a wide-toothed one, but disentangle it with your fingers, and use a little warm water on it to help; if it is too securely matted to enable you to loosen it, there is nothing for it but to clip it off, which will, of course, spoil its appearance till the wool grows again. a healthy, well-groomed angora is one of the handsomest pets possible; but on the other hand, if neglected, the coat becomes foul and matted, and a more disconsolate, miserable-looking animal it would be difficult to imagine. the hutches must be cleaned out thrice a week, and a manger fixed in which to put hay or clover, of which they are very fond, and which is good for them. belgian hares.--the belgian hare is a large and very handsome variety of our domestic rabbit. although designated "hare," it is not a hare at all, but a rabbit pure and simple, although it has more of the hare-like form and colour than any other variety. being a large animal, scaling from eight pounds to ten pounds in weight, it is necessary that it should be kept in a large, roomy hutch. an old and experienced breeder says the hutch should be at least feet long, by feet broad, and inches high, and the shaded sleeping compartment inches wider than in the ordinary hutch. the belgian in colour somewhat resembles the english hare, being of a sandy-brown or golden-foxey colour, ticked as evenly as possible with dark chocolate, thus giving the fur, which should be short, firm and glossy, a very handsome appearance; the head is of good size, broad between the eyes, and gradually tapering towards the nose; the eyes, a special feature in belgians, are a beautiful brown colour, full, bright, and wild-looking; the ears, about five inches long, should be laced round the edges with black, and carried very neatly and closely together; the body should be long, giving it a graceful, hare-like carriage, so much esteemed, and the legs strong, long, and straight. belgians are very apt to develop a dew-lap or pouch, or as some have called it a large double chin; this is a defect, but, owing to an undoubted cross at a remote time with the lop rabbit, is very difficult to avoid. many specimens now-a-days do not show this point until they get old and fat. one of the best preventatives we believe is large airy hutches, and the avoidance of over-feeding. where it can be done, belgians should be allowed to run in a nice dry open shed, or failing this, an hour's run three or four times a week on a nice, dry grass plot. plenty of room, judicious feeding, and cleanliness, work wonders in the development of the belgian hare. dutch rabbits.--unlike the belgian, the dutch rabbit is noted for its small size, and is generally called the dwarf or bantam representative of the domestic rabbit. there are few lads who have not been captivated by the handsome little dutchman, and there are few large rabbitries where some of them are not kept, such great favourites are they. the breed being of small size should not exceed about five pounds in weight, and many grand ones are to be found under that weight. the pretty markings, combined with the various colours of this variety and the difficulties in getting both colour and markings exactly as they ought to be, makes the breeding of them very fascinating to those fond of experiments, and who delight in observing the various developments of the little animal. probably the most favourite colours are the blacks and the blues; but greys, tortoiseshells, and yellows, are all alike handsome. the head of the dutch rabbit is shapely and not large, the ears small, neat, and carried slightly backwards; the eyes in this variety are frequently not both of the same colour owing to crossing for various colours, and the too frequent and pernicious habit of in-breeding. it is, however, necessary that both eyes should match, and be bright and sparkling; the body rises from behind the shoulders, curving nicely over the stern, and giving the rabbit a compact, well-put-together shape; legs, medium length, straight, and fine in bone. now to come to the markings of this little aristocrat of the rabbitry. from between the ears comes a narrow white line, gradually widening as it descends to, and encircles the smellers, and continuing round the face, this is called the "blaze," the cheeks and ears are of the same colour as the body, whilst the chest, fore-legs, and shoulders are pure white, and the hind feet for about an inch and a half should also be white, the whole remaining part of the rabbit being a solid colour, as black, blue, grey, etc. the collar of white which runs round the shoulders should descend in a straight line, as though cut with scissors, encircling the fore-legs. the markings of a dutch rabbit should be sharply defined, and not blur or run into each other. for instance, in a black dutch, the cheeks, ears, and body from behind the shoulders should be a bright, solid, glossy black, and the remaining part pure white, a very beautiful contrast indeed. one great advantage in keeping and breeding dutch rabbits is that they are small and can be more successfully brought up in cool, outdoor hutches. if your rabbit has canker of the ear, clear out the discharge by gentle pressure with a sponge or soft rag soaked in warm water, taking great care that none of the water falls into the ear. when dry after this bathing, apply the following lotion, which any druggist will make up for you: sulphate of zinc grains, water ounces, wine of opium drachm, mixed. or you might try a mixture of one part goulard's extract of lead to five parts of pure olive oil. hold the rabbit's head on one side and pour into the ear half a teaspoonful of either of the above twice a day. give plenty of the best food, for if the rabbit does not feed well the chances of recovery are slight. $cage birds.$--canaries.--having determined to keep a bird, the first thing is to provide proper accommodation for it, and here let us suppose the lad has only accommodation for one, or at most, a pair of birds. very well, then, procure a cage. oh, yes, says the boy; of course, i know that. just so, but do not forget that there are cages _and_ cages, and that whilst some look very pretty and are quite an ornament, they are perhaps the most unsuitable and miserable of prisons for poor little dick; avoid by all means round cages, which are the worst possible for the poor little inmates, who have no room to exercise themselves, and where it is quite impossible for them to get out of the way of draughts or shelter themselves from the scorching sun. the best and most convenient cages are those which have plain wire in front, the rest being made of wood; the larger the size the better, as a great thing is to give the inmates plenty of room for exercise. the size that i have used for years in which to keep a pair of canaries or other small birds, is as follows:--length in., depth, from back to front, in., and height in. in such a cage small birds will live healthily for years. next in importance to size of cage is where to hang it, and a great deal depends upon this point. first, then, let me impress upon you never to hang dickey (except, perhaps, for an hour or two's change in fine, but not too sunny weather) in front of the window, for here the bird is exposed to draughts and every change of temperature, which is more injurious to the health and well-being of your pet than anything else. select a part of the room against one of the walls as free from draught as possible, and where there is plenty of light and air; and be particular not to hang the cage higher than (but rather below) the level of the gas, as when that is lighted the air in the higher parts of the room becomes very hot, and anything but comfortable or healthy for the bird. now that you have got your cage, which will be fitted with the necessary perches, drinking glasses, and seed hoppers, examine it carefully to see that it is clean and free from insects, then fill your water-glasses, and put seed in the tins or hoppers, and on the bottom of the cage a good supply of sand and small grit, which can be bought in penny bags at all corn chandlers or bird-shops, and your house is ready for master dick. perches are usually too thin. they should not be like a lead pencil, but more like your thumb, and flat on top. feed regularly each morning, on either the mixed seed, or, as we prefer it, buy some good, clean, sweet, canary seed and summer rape seed, and mix them yourself, one part of the latter to two parts of the former; clean water each day, and a wee bit of nice, dry, fresh, green food, such as groundsel, watercress, lettuce, chickweed, or plantain, as they are in season. do not indulge your bird in luxuries, but dickey will enjoy (and it will do it good) now and then, a morsel of sweet, ripe apple, pear, grape, or cherry. following these directions, and keeping the cage thoroughly clean, you will find dickey a delightful pet and one that will repay you for any little trouble. whenever you have occasion to go near the cage, either to look at the bird or to feed or clean it, always speak to it cheerfully but quietly, and so gain its confidence, and you will soon be surprised how earnestly it will greet you whenever you come into the room. it will greatly contribute to the health and vigour of your bird if you can now and then let it fly in the room where the cage is. close the room door and windows, and, yourself and dick being the only inmates, talk to him and then open the cage-door and sit down, and you will be amused at the bird's antics; first he will hop on the ledge of the door, then, looking this way and that, he will either try his wings on a fly round the room or drop to a table or chair-back, and so investigate the whole surroundings; do not startle the bird whilst it is out or it will get frightened and dash itself about. if it seems unable to find its way back to the cage, talk to it and drive it gently in that direction, but never wave a handkerchief or paper at it or you will probably frighten it to death. zebra-finches.--one of the merriest, boldest, most impudent and inquisitive little fellows is the handsome zebra, or chestnut-eared, finch; a prettier or more charming little pet it would be difficult to find. zebra-finches are the hardiest and best known of the australian finches, and are natives of queensland and new south wales, where they are found in great numbers; they are stoutly built, compact little birds, measuring between four and five inches from beak to end of tail, the tail itself being about an inch and a half long. the hen is soberly clad in grey with yellow beak and legs, but her mate is a handsome little fellow and somewhat difficult to describe; his beak is red; head, neck, and throat grey, the feathers on the latter being pencilled with white, which gives it a very beautiful appearance; the ears are a bright chestnut colour, and a line of black and one of white surround the beak; the breast is white, sides darker chestnut spotted with white; back and wings grey; tail black, barred and spotted with white; legs orange colour. no description, however, can adequately convey the handsome appearance of master zebra-finch when in the full beauty of his plumage. he is a fearless little fellow and bold to the extent of rashness in defending his mate, for he will attack birds many times larger than himself, and generally comes off the victor; and then doesn't he let you know it; how he struts about, blowing himself out and trumpeting to his heart's content. they are most lovable little birds, their every action being full of grace. zebra-finches do not sing, but the male bird's note is a sweet trumpeting sound, very cheerful and pleasant, and varying in tone. watch him making love to his little mate or helping her to make a nest; how low and soothing is his little trumpet, and how much it is appreciated is easily perceived by the joyous twitterings of his soberly clad lady-love; listen to him again when he is "showing-off"; with what vigour does he blow his trumpet, and how proudly he hops about, especially if he has just thrashed a bigger fellow than himself. i kept a pair for several years in a cage, such as i described to you, and although kept in a room where more or less noise was going on all day they were as happy as the day was long, and being continually petted and talked to became very tame, "master jocky" never failing to trumpet to us when we went to the cage or spoke coaxingly to him; his little wife "jenny" was, however, very shy and always allowed her lord and master to do all the talking, she chiming in now and again as though saying "hear, hear," to his remarks. as i had not, at the time, convenience for an aviary, i made a point, as soon as the birds were thoroughly tamed, of opening the cage-door every afternoon for an hour or two so that they might fly round the room; and how they did enjoy themselves! the first time i opened the cage-door they made no rush for freedom, but seemed to talk the matter over with each other, and then jocky came to the open door, trumpeting his best to attract my attention. i spoke to him, and then, apparently reassured, he launched himself forth across to where i was and back again to his cage; then he enticed jenny to come out, and they flew round and round, resting close together on the top of the cage now and then, when he would trumpet in his loudest and most vigorous tones; they would thus tire themselves out, and in a few minutes after would be sound asleep. thus they lived joyously for years, but she at last succumbed to egg-binding, which, unfortunately, with this variety is more common and more fatal than with many others. they had lived together so long and so happily that poor little jock never got over his sorrow, his delightful little trumpetings soon lost their bonny sound, and do what we could we failed to rouse him to anything like what he used to be, and so one morning when we took the cover off his cage he was dead. we all sorrowed over their deaths, for they made themselves most lovable little companions to one and all of us. dr. greene, the naturalist, speaking of his first experience with these delightful little birds, says:-- "as soon as i got them home, i turned the birds loose into a greenhouse in which was nothing but a grape-vine in full foliage. i shall never forget the delight of the little couple as they rushed into the midst of the leaves, the male trumpeting loudly and his mate twittering in joyful response. they paired almost as soon as i let them out of the cage, and in a minute or two the hen bird was hopping about with a little bit of fibre she had picked up off the floor in her beak, looking for a place to build her nest in; this she was not long in finding, and on my supplying her with some fine hay, she very soon, or, i should say they, for the male helped in the construction, made a little domed nest among the vine branches, and in less than a week were engaged in the important duty of incubation, male and female sitting alternately on five tiny white eggs." zebra-finches breed freely, especially when kept in cages in a rather warm temperature. the young ones, which are hatched in about twelve days, do not leave the nest till fully fledged, when they almost immediately commence to feed themselves, when they must be removed or they will interfere with the old birds. when kept in an aviary not supplied with heat artificially, they generally content themselves with two or perhaps three broods a year, which is much better for them. it must be remembered that when kept in an aviary with other birds they are inclined to be quarrelsome and masterful, frequently either taking possession of some other nest or pulling it to pieces to construct their own, in spite of the fact that abundant nest-making material is lying about. for food, canary seed and millet is the best, and will keep them vigorous and in good health. as a change give them a few hay-seeds, a spray of millet, or some grass in flower, which they will greatly enjoy, as also now and again a morsel of sweet apple or pear. when bringing up young, give a small piece of sponge cake and a little of the yolk of a hard-boiled egg crushed and mixed with sweet biscuit. always see that they have plenty of grit, and keep a piece of rock-salt and cuttlefish-shell for them to peck at. they are very cleanly birds, and when the weather is not too cold, should be allowed a bath at least twice or thrice a week. budgerigars.--this beautiful little bird, called variously "undulated grass parrakeet," "zebra grass parrakeet," and "shell parrot," is a native of south australia, and is deservedly a very general favourite, its hardy constitution, the readiness with which it adapts itself to confinement, its handsome plumage, and its winning ways, all tending to make it a great pet. it can be kept in a large cage, but is much merrier and more contented in a garden aviary, where it may be kept all the year round so long as it has an inner compartment to retire to in very severe cold or wet weather. it is a miniature long-tailed parrot, measuring seven or eight inches, of which the tail is about half that length; its general colour is a brilliant grass-green, the head pale primrose, whilst the neck, shoulders, and wings are yellow-green, the feathers being edged with grey, giving it an undulating appearance, hence one of its names; the two long middle-tail feathers are blue, whilst the others are yellow with green tips; the beak is white, chin yellow, spotted with blue, which latter colour also runs down each side of the beak like a moustache; legs and feet grey or slate colour. the male bird is distinguished from the female by the blue colour of the cere round the nostrils, which in the female is of a brown shade. budgerigars breed well in confinement, the season lasting from about december to july, during which two or three broods will be produced. several pairs can be kept together in one aviary, the only thing to be particular about is to provide sufficient nesting material, otherwise quarrels ensue. in the native woods these handsome little fellows generally make their nests in the hollows of gum-trees, taking very little trouble as to furnishing it; in an aviary they will select almost any hole or corner; but one of the best nests i know of is the husk of a cocoa-nut, which should have a hole cut in one end; this should be hung high up so that mice cannot reach it, and a perch should be provided close to the hole, where the male will sit and sing his love ditties, and tell his wife all the gossip of the day, whilst she is attending to her maternal duties inside. the hen lays three, four, five and sometimes six eggs, the youngsters being hatched in fourteen or fifteen days. when feeding-time comes the young ones do not open their mouths as do so many young birds, but the parents take the beak of their offspring into their own, and the youngsters feed themselves on the food which the old ones disgorge for them. the young birds leave the nest when five or six weeks old, as soon as they are fully fledged, and in a few days leave the parents, who soon set about nesting again; the first thing they do being to thoroughly clean out the husk for the reception of the next batch of eggs. if husks cannot be got conveniently, little wooden boxes (which should have some sawdust put in so that the eggs will not roll about) holes in the wall, or a rotten wood log will do. when kept in small cages budgerigars, not having room to properly "show off," are apt to become silent, but once in an aviary and the change is marvellous, as they dart about, tumbling, twisting, and climbing in all positions in the most graceful and delightful manner, and singing a pleasant little song all the while, stopping now and again as though to exchange confidences and to express delight at their surroundings. these birds do not bathe, but one of their greatest delights is to tumble and roll about in wet grass; if, therefore, the aviary has not a grass bottom, a large sod should be supplied and artificial rain produced by the aid of the watering can. when thus tumbling about, and the sun glints on their plumage it sparkles like so many gems. so far as food is concerned these charming little birds are easily satisfied, canary seed and white millet being sufficient to keep them healthy and vigorous, the only change necessary being when they are feeding young ones, when a little stale bread soaked in water and squeezed dry, and a few oats, should be added to their bill of fare; the simpler the diet the better, so do not indulge them with tit-bits. in the aviary or cage always have a supply of clean drinking water at hand, pounded oyster shells, as well as sand, fine shell grit and cuttlefish bone, which can be had at all bird shops, seed dealers, etc. being such hardy, sprightly little fellows, the handsome budgerigars are not liable to so many illnesses as frequently fall to the lot of our caged pets; now and again one may have a fit, due probably to improper feeding; should such occur, be careful to correct your feeding, and give grass in flower, dandelion, or a bit of groundsel. cramp they sometimes suffer from, which is produced by cold or damp, the latter more especially; a simple remedy is the removal of the bird to a warm and dry atmosphere. all cage-birds (hens) are liable to egg-binding, one of the most serious complaints, and difficult to deal with, and budgerigars suffer from it like the rest; it is seldom curable, but immediately the hen is observed to be suffering she should be taken gently, very gently, in hand, and a drop or two of castor oil or sweet oil put in her mouth, whilst the egg passage should be gently oiled with a feather, and then held over the mouth of a jug of hot water, so that the steam may get to the part affected, and so relax it and assist in the delivery of the egg. a bird which has been egg-bound should not be allowed to mate and go to nest again, as sooner or later she will again suffer from the distressing complaint and die. any one fond of birds cannot fail to be delighted and charmed with such a handsome, good-tempered, loving, and jolly little fellow as the budgerigar. $how to treat dogs.$--twice a day feed the dog moderately. paunch and tripe are excellent for dogs. boil this food, cut into small pieces, in a moderate quantity of water, and when the meat is sufficiently done throw into the gravy some good dog biscuits. when these are soft mix meat, biscuits and gravy well together. for an occasional change oatmeal or rice may be given instead of meat. during the summer boil a cabbage with the food twice a week, for unless dogs have vegetable food occasionally they are liable to have mange and scurvy. in winter put mashed potatoes in the food sometimes, for these contain the properties for which dogs sometimes eat the coarse grass in some parts called couch grass, in others twitch. once or twice a week a dog should have boiled liver and sometimes milk in which powdered brimstone has been placed. always he should be able to drink clean water. a dog's kennel should be in a dry, sheltered place and lifted from the ground. it should face south or west. let him have plenty of dry straw. wheat straw and oat straw are best; it is said that barley straw will cause mange. cedar or pine shavings are good if you can secure some. in cold weather a piece of canvas or carpet should be nailed to hang over the entrance, and great care should be taken to keep the kennel dry, or there will be mange and lameness. a kennel with an adjustable bottom which can be removed to be cleaned, is better than one with a fixed bottom. at least every two weeks the kennel should be thoroughly cleaned. apply some good disinfectant to every crevice with a brush, then expose the inside to the sun and air to dry it. it is usual to chain the dog to the kennel, but a better plan is to place in front of the kennel a stout wire about fifteen feet long stretched between two posts that are about three feet above the ground. the ring at the end of the dog's chain should have this wire running through it. this plan gives him a much wider range. to destroy vermin in a dog rub soft soap well into his coat, and in about a quarter of an hour lather it well into him, and then wash it away with an abundance of tepid water. when dogs have the "husk," a kind of cough, they should be fed with finely chopped suet boiled in milk, with a little garlic also finely chopped added to the suet. for worms, administer a teaspoonful of salt either dry or dissolved in lukewarm water. this is also a good remedy when distemper begins, for it acts as an emetic. the least exercise a dog should have is an hour each day. dogs kept in the house should have exercise for half an hour before breakfast and after supper too. a run at mid-day, too, is an advantage. to lead them out soberly on a chain and back again is not sufficient for a dog. he needs more lively exercise than that. a large dog should run six miles each day. brush your dog's coat each day and wash him once a week. bad habits should be checked when the dog is young, with a whip if that is necessary, but without cruelty. a little whip goes a long way with a dog. even the sight of it is sufficient usually. be sure he understands for what he is being punished, and be consistent. don't laugh at him for one thing one day, and punish him for it another. do not let him annoy neighbours by barking. if you do it will serve you right if the neighbours obtain an order from the magistrates for his destruction. they are entitled to do this, and, indeed the right ought to be exercised more often than it is. so far we have mentioned grown dogs only, but a few hints about puppies may be given. when these are five or six weeks old they may be weaned. feed them now for three weeks upon boiled milk, sometimes breaking into it a little stale bread. then they may begin to have soup made of meat and vegetables occasionally. when they are between six weeks and a year old they may be fed three times a day, the most generous meal at night before they go to sleep. $the raven.$--if you keep a raven be prepared for unending mischief and destruction. he needs plenty of room, and will eat most things. raw meat is perhaps his favourite diet, and he is pleased with rats, mice, small birds, beetles, grubs or worms, and bread. he ought to be fed once, and once only, each day, for he will find insects, worms, and other delicacies for himself. from time to time he loves to retire to a place that is sheltered, warm and dark, and where no one can see him. $white mice.$--the principal food for white mice is bread-and-milk, oatmeal grits, and any other common food, except cheese, which is bad for them. they should be kept particularly clean, and their cages overhauled each day and the bedding changed, or they will smell offensively. cages may be adapted from boxes. give them more room than the bought cages give them, and a dark compartment. $jackdaws.$--the jackdaw is tamed easily, and can be taught to say a few words. it is as alert as a terrier for visitors, and affectionate towards its friends. jack loves a bath, and may be fed on bread and milk, oats, mice, small birds, insects, and meat. $the jay.$--the jay is not so impatient of captivity as the magpie, and will tolerate confinement in a large cage. it will eat meat, small birds, mice, insects, worms, and is particularly fond of eggs. it eats, too, much vegetable food. $the magpie.$--do not keep a magpie unless you can give him generous room. he is a very clever talker and mimic. he is extremely fond of bathing, and a plentiful supply of water is needful to keep his beautiful plumage in good condition. the food of the magpie is the same as that of the jackdaw. $the hedgehog.$--this animal likes insects and snails, frogs and mice, and will even kill a snake, and eat it. in its wild state it sleeps all the winter, rolled up in a hole which it has filled with grass, moss, or leaves; and when tamed it will hide itself in some dark place for weeks, and never make its appearance, unless it should feel hungry. hedgehogs destroy beetles, eating them quickly and gladly. they need no looking after, but will fend for themselves, though it is better to have a little hutch to put them into sometimes. their feeding-time is in the night; and if there are black-beetles in the kitchen, the best plan is to leave the hedgehog there. $silkworms.$--buy a few eggs, which should be of a lilac or grey colour. avoid yellow ones. the silkworm when hatched is black, and about one-fourth of an inch long. the desire for food is the first sign of life, and it is more alive then than at any other time. when about eight days have elapsed its head becomes enlarged and it turns ill, refuses food, and remains torpid for about three days. this seems to be caused by the pressure of the skin, which has become too tight. the difference in the size of the worm from the beginning to the end of the caterpillar state is such, that the worm has been provided with several skins, each of which it throws off in succession. the silkworm feeds on the leaves of the white mulberry; or, when these cannot be obtained, upon those of the black mulberry; or even upon the leaves of the lettuce. the eggs should be bought about the end of april and placed in trays made of pasteboard. over the case put thin gauze. the trays may be placed in a window facing the south, where they are fully exposed to the sun, and there they should remain undisturbed till the eggs begin to hatch. as the worms appear they should be removed into other trays, and fed with the mulberry leaves. the temperature should be from sixty-six to seventy degrees, and the room ventilated, and preserved free from damp and from too much dryness. the trays should be kept clean, dead leaves and any other refuse cleared away. in moving the caterpillars from one tray to another they should not be touched by the fingers, but removed by threads of cotton passed under their bodies, or with a camel-hair brush. the caterpillar has four moultings, which may be all over in four days each, if the heat of the room be increased to from ninety-five to one hundred degrees of fahrenheit. when the heat is lower, the first moulting takes place on the fourth or fifth day after hatching, the second in four days more, the third in five or six days more, and the last in about eight days. ten days more are required after this moulting, so that in about thirty-two days after hatching the caterpillar is fully grown. [illustration] at the end of this time the silkworms change to a clear pink or flesh colour, and look semi-transparent; they refuse food, become restless, and prepare to spin their cocoon. care should be taken to raise the walls of their tray or they will climb over and be lost. the cocoon nest should now be prepared by twisting the corners of a piece of writing-paper, and raising its edges into the form shown in the illustration. a number of these should be prepared and fixed to a piece of tape, with their pointed ends downwards; and into each one a single worm should be placed when it refuses its food, and seems inclined to spin: it will then weave its web so as to leave a space within. the cocoon consists of three layers of silk: the first is loose and flossy, and is of no use for the silk manufacture; the second is closer, the silk crossing from side to side; and the third is still finer, and is stuck firmly together, so as to form a compact inner coating. when the cocoon is completed, the enclosed caterpillar once more casts its skin, with its head and jaws attached to it. it is now a conical chrysalis of the ordinary shape. at first the chrysalis, when opened, contains only a yellow fluid, but by degrees the parts of the moth appear, and in a fortnight or three weeks a swelling of the chrysalis indicates the approach of another change. a rupture down its back comes next, and the moth bursts through its coating into the hollow of the cocoon, and if left to itself would soon eat its way through. the chrysalis, however, must be stopped from eating through the cocoon; and the silk must be wound. when, by shaking the cocoon, it is found to rattle, then it is time to wind the silk. the cocoon is placed in a cup of warm water, after the loose outward silk has been removed, and then, an end being taken, the whole filament may be wound off on a piece of card. the length of the thread of a cocoon varies from to , feet. when the silk is wound off the aurelia presents itself, and being put in a separate case, it remains motionless for about twenty days, when it appears as a pale yellow moth. the male soon dies; the females lay their eggs on the slips of paper provided for that purpose. they then soon die. chapter xix things boys can make $a way to bind magazines.$--first, we must have a frame in which to stitch the sheets together. here is mine in fig. . i made it myself, and any handy lad can make one. the frame shown has an opening a foot long, so it is big enough to bind a book as long as that, or any smaller magazine. i have drawn it fitted with five strings, which would be the right number for a full-sized magazine; more or less strings are required according to the size of the book. they are, as may be seen, passed through holes bored opposite to each other above and below, and fixed tight with pegs. these strings are tapes / inch wide, which mother or sister will supply. now for the sewing. we have stripped off the wrappers, cleaned the backs of the sheets, and laid them in order, the last sheet on the top. but to make neat work, we should have what bookbinders call "end papers"--plain pieces of paper cut and folded to the size of the magazine--to go at the beginning and end of the volume; one leaf of each will be pasted down by-and-by to the inside of the cover adjoining it. we begin by laying an end paper on the frame with its back against the tapes. we take a needle and thread, tie a knot at the end of the latter, and pass the needle, as in fig. , through the middle of tape no. , and through the paper, drawing the thread to the knot. how we then go on is shown by the dotted line in fig. ; at the nearer side of tape no. we pass the needle out again, carry it behind the tape, in again at the farther side of the tape, and so on, till we finally bring it out on the near side of tape no. . please to notice that we do not pass the needle _through_ any tape except through no. at first starting; with that exception, the thread merely _goes behind_ the tapes. [illustration: fig. .] when we have reached the last tape and brought the needle out on the near side of it, we lay a sheet, in this case the _last_ sheet, of the magazine, on the frame, and pass the needle through it inwards on the farther side of tape no. , and then work back to the nearest side of tape no. . another sheet is now laid on, and so we proceed till the whole volume, including the front end paper, is stitched together. if we now lay a good heavy weight on our volume, we can squeeze it into narrower compass, for as the threads merely go round the tapes, they will slip down them; and we can then glue the back. everybody has not a glue-pot, but everybody can get a d. bottle of le page's liquid glue, and nothing is better or more handy. damp a strip of paper, or better, of thin muslin, and rub it down on the glue; it will strengthen the back. leave the volume under pressure till the glue has set, and we may then take it out of the frame and cut off the tapes to, say, about two inches long on each side. [illustration: _fig. ._] and now we are ready for our covers; a couple of pieces of stiff millboard, the wreckage of some old draper's box, will do very well. we cut them to size, and glue down the tapes upon them, as is shown in fig. ; and when the volume is heavy it is well to paste a strip of thin muslin over the hinge, as indicated by the dotted lines at _a_, to keep all tight. i have just spoken of paste; we shall want it for everything else that we have to do, so i will tell you how to make it. take a couple of tablespoonfuls of flour and half a teaspoonful of powdered alum, beat them carefully with cold water to the consistency of thin cream, and boil briskly for four minutes, stirring all the time. what we want to do now is to put a back to our volume. we want something that will look well, and be strong, and nothing that i have tried has been equal to "window-blind holland." a dark green i prefer, but colour is a matter of taste. this material will not stretch out of place in pasting, as bookbinders' cloth is apt to do. fig. shows how the back piece is cut. the middle part _b_ has a strip of stiff paper pasted on it, which is not exactly the width of the back of the volume, but just a shade wider, that when pasted in place, it may have the proper curve outwards. the flap _c_ is to be turned and pasted down on this strip of paper, but the flaps _d_ and _d_ will be turned and pasted down inside the covers, after the back has been pasted in its place on the volume; and when that has been done, the volume should be kept under pressure till the paste is dry. [illustration: fig. ., fig. .] we must, of course, cover the sides of our volume; bookbinders' cloth or marbled paper, both of which are very inexpensive, are what i commonly use. after that, we can line the insides of the covers by pasting down on them a leaf of the end paper. and only one more thing now remains to be done, that is to letter a label neatly, and to paste it on the back. $scrap book and index.$--keep _two_ scrap-books--one for cuttings and the other for notes. the scrap-book might be made of brown paper. take an ordinary quarto exercise-book, with about pages in it, and set apart the first fifteen pages for forming the index, for a scrap-book or a note-book without an index is as absurd as a public library without a catalogue. on the first page of your scrap-book write, in clear style, your name and address. next, put the date on which you commenced to insert cuttings in the book. and then you might add an appropriate motto. how would this title-page do? [illustration: "when found make a note of." captain cuttle. * * * * * my newspaper cuttings. * * * * * frederick cowley, , abbey road, knutsford. _commenced jan. th_, . ] [illustration: fig. a.] having finished the all-important question of a title-page, which might be much more ornamental than the one above, begin the index on page of the book. take a strip of paper of the same length as the pages in your book, and by doubling it in half twice and then dividing it into three equal parts, mark it off into twelve portions, as shown in fig. b. [illustration: fig. b. strip, the same length as the page. ] now place your strip alongside of the edge of page , and rule a line on the page exactly where the figure has been put. only a tiny line, about three-quarters of an inch in length, is needed. on page , again place your strip along the edge, and rule a line where the figure occurs. on page rule a line where the figure is; on page rule a line where the figure is; on page rule a line where the figure is; and so on, till on page you rule a line where the figure is. i expect you see why i have done this. now neatly cut from the bottom of page a strip, three-quarters of an inch wide, as far as the line you have ruled. this will leave at the top of the page a piece of paper jutting out. on this write the letters [a | b] in ink. then on page cut your strip three-quarters of an inch wide, up to the ruled line, and write [c | d] on the little square which projects underneath [a | b]; and continue to write two letters of the alphabet on each page till you get to page , when you must write [uv | w]. on page you can write [xy | z]. now your index is complete so far as the lettering. the edge of your book should look something like fig. c. if you want the index to look still better, you should write the letters alternately in red and black ink. on the first line of page in your book put a, and turning over the leaf write b on the top line. on page write c, and turning overleaf write d upon the top line. thus you will have allotted a page to each letter in the alphabet, with the exception of the last six letters. i think i should put on the top line of page u v, and overleaf write w, as w needs more room than u v. on page write x y, and overleaf z. [illustration: fig. c.] now that the mysteries of what the bookbinders call "index cutting" have been overcome, nothing remains to be done in the way of preparing your scrap-book for the reception of the numerous newspaper cuttings which i hope will find a home therein. we will suppose you are interested in cricket. here comes the usefulness of your book. when the averages of the county cricket are published you can cut out the list and paste it in your book, and enter in your index, under c, the fact thus: "cricket, county averages, ," the referring to the page on which you have pasted the cutting. when brown _minor_ is trying to prove that his county of kent was third on the list, you will be able to convince him of his error by a reference to the page in your scrap-book, whereon you have pasted a cutting headed "county championship." reserve a few pages in your book for cuttings from the comic papers. you have no idea, until you commence, how interesting and engrossing your scrap-book will prove. in the newspapers there are so many curious little incidents recorded as to swimming, cycling, football, science, which you will be glad to preserve for future reference. then, any little facts about your favourite hero may well find a place in your book. and when you have filled one book, commence another, and thus manufacture your own library of "best bits." [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $net making.$--in fig. we have a netting needle and the way of filling it, in fig. a mesh stick. the stick may be almost any shape and about nine inches long. it regulates the mesh of the net, for the mesh is twice the circumference of the stick, so you may make a coarse net for tennis or a finer one to protect your strawberries, or a hammock net, or any kind you wish. fix a hook into a wall or door, or in some other similar position. take a piece of twine, a foot long will serve, tie the ends together, and hang the circle a thus made over the hook as in fig. . take the needle in your right hand and pass it through the loop. at b hold the loop and the twine that comes from the needle. now cast a turn of the twine so that it rests on the upper part of your left hand and wrist, and also over loop a. next pass the needle in an upward direction, pulling slowly and finishing with a tight knot. what makes the knot is shown at fig. . in fig. the knot loose and tight is shown. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] slowly as this is done a time will come when you can do it rapidly. when you have tightened the knot, hold the mesh stick in the left hand, lay the twine over the stick with the knot resting at its edge, as in fig. . pass the needle through the loop that has thus been made, pull the twine firmly round your mesh stick, then throw a turn of the twine over your wrist and so make the same knot again. throw the twine once more round the stick and make one more stitch through our old friend loop a. at this stage slip all you have done from your mesh stick, and you will find two half meshes attached to your loop a. in fig. these are shown as and . treat and as you treated loop a, that is first in make and in . now you have your first completed mesh, . mesh also is made on , the knots being one on the top of the other. now go on in the same way, making the meshes in the order that you find them numbered in fig. . the taking of two stitches through the last mesh of each row is the widening process, and this operation is maintained to the end of the net as far as the top edge is concerned. on the other edge, however, as soon as you have reached the width you need you must change this policy to that of taking the stitch through the last two meshes of the preceding row as in fig. . when the net is as long as you need it this narrowing as it is called is applied to both edges, and the fourth corner is finished off by taking the stitch through the last two meshes. then they should be tied fast. do not widen or narrow at the wrong edges as you work. to prevent this mistake some netters lie a piece of ribbon upon the top or narrowing edge. nets for fishing and for such pursuits may be made in this way. first make a square, then go along the edges of the square, narrowing at regular intervals until the net is of the size needed. gloves may be worn if the fingers become chafed, or the knots may be drawn tight in such a way that the strain is on the needle and not on the finger. when a new needleful is commenced be sure to make the first knot very firm. among the useful articles that may be made in this way are tennis nets, onion bags, nets for the protection of growing fruit, and hammock nets. $photographic enlargements.$--there are so many excellent sources, easily available, from which boys may learn how to use their cameras, so many developers, toners, and fixers ready to their hands at the chemist's, that we have not occupied space here with a general dissertation upon photography. we think, however, a chapter on enlargements will be welcome. the rapid development of bromide printing paper, and the ease by which enlargements may be produced thereon, has created quite a new era in amateur photography. no longer is it necessary to carry about an unwieldy heavy kit, which destroys half the pleasure of the amateur, when "on pictures bent," for now he may make use of even the smallest form of camera, and enlarge his pictures when he has returned from his meanderings. enlargements may be produced in several ways. the negative itself may be enlarged, or what is simpler still a direct enlargement may be made on bromide paper. the latter may be easily effected in two ways--( ) by means of daylight, or ( ) by artificial light. it is with the former that the writer intends to deal in the present paper. a word first as to the kind of negative best adapted for enlarging purposes. the quarter-plate size will be found most suitable, and these may be successfully enlarged to by . the negative must be perfectly sharp, full of crisp detail, and perfect in every way. any small defect in a negative is fatal to its enlargement, as it is made so much more apparent by magnification. most amateurs find a room at the top of the house the most convenient for enlarging purposes, and one with only one window is best, and that preferably with an uninterrupted view of the sky. the light must next be excluded by pasting brown paper over the entire window, or by having a tightly-fitting wooden frame made to answer the same purpose. provision is then made to fit into the frame a quarter-plate printing frame, in which is placed the negative. by this means no light is permitted to enter the room, save that which filters through the negative. as a general rule, it will be found necessary to fit on the outside of the window frame a reflector of some sort, and a piece of white glazed board fixed at an angle will be found as effective as anything. this will concentrate the light and produce an equal amount of illumination over the entire negative. the arrangement of the camera calls next for consideration. if the camera possessed by the would-be enlarger is one which focuses from the front, no adaptation of any sort will be required. all that is necessary is to place an oblong table close to the window, so arranging it that the camera when placed thereon will be on the same level as the negative. the ground-glass at the back of the camera being removed, place the camera as near to the negative as possible, which must have its film side facing the room. to prevent any escape of light through the body of the camera there should be as little space as possible between the negative and the camera, a black cloth being thrown over the end of the latter to make quite certain. at the other end of the table is fixed the enlarging board, on which the bromide is affixed by means of drawing pins. the farther this board is from the lens, the greater the enlargement, of course. a few experimental trials will soon show the tyro the proper distance the board should be placed, and this discovered, the place should be marked for future reference. it will be found a great convenience to have a piece of ruby glass fixed in the end of the lens cap, as this will enable the operator to see the full size of the image on the enlarging board, and thus obviate any difficulty as to the exact spot in which the bromide paper should be. the greatest difficulty experienced by the beginner in enlarging is undoubtedly the gauging of the correct exposure. light varies so, that it will be found necessary to give the same negative longer or shorter exposures at different times. the best plan is to make a table of approximate exposures by experimenting with a few strips of bromide paper, giving each a different exposure. these strips should then be pasted in a note-book for any future reference, together with the following particulars:--( ) time of day and year; ( ) intensity of the light; ( ) density of negative; ( ) brand of paper; and ( ) size of the enlargement. an observant worker will soon master all these little difficulties, and when once success has been achieved, enlarging pictures from small negatives will be found to be one of the most interesting branches of photographic operations. $magic lantern slides.$--draw first on paper the figures you wish to paint, lay the paper on the table, and cover it over with a piece of glass of the right size and shape. draw the outlines with a fine camel's hair pencil or a pen, in black paint mixed with varnish, and when this is dry, add the proper colours. the transparent colours are alone to be used in this kind of painting, and these include aureolin, gamboge, italian pink, indian yellow, madder lake, crimson lake, prussian blue, indigo, burnt sienna, madder brown, vandyke brown, lamp black. ox gall will cause the colours to flow more easily on glass. be careful that the glass is not greasy. both water colours and oil colours are available. an easy way to make diagrams and other outline drawings for the magic lantern is to take a piece of frosted glass of the right size and draw upon it, using indian ink. the frost enables you to do this, but would prevent the maximum of light passing through the glass when it was in the lantern. accordingly, to remove the frost now that it has served its purpose, pour canada balsam upon it, cover with another piece of glass and bind the two pieces together as other magic lantern slides are bound. a curious effect may be obtained by a magic lantern slide made as follows:--tint vaseline with cochineal and place some between glasses of the magic lantern slide size, making a kind of vaseline sandwich. put this slide in the lantern and focus it, and then insert a knife point a little way between the two pieces of glass and so let them be alternately forced asunder and drawn together. the effect upon the vaseline as seen upon the sheet is very peculiar. $three ways of making a hectograph.$--it happens often that a boy, especially if he be the secretary of a cricket or football club, needs to send away many letters or notices, all alike; and few things are so wearisome as this writing of the same thing over and over again. if he will make for himself a hectograph he need write his notice no more than once and yet he may have more copies than he is likely to need. here is the mixture that will prove so useful: gelatine, ounces; glycerine, fluid ounces; carbolic acid, / fluid ounce; water, fluid ounces. first add the water to the gelatine and let it stand until the gelatine is quite soft. now place all this in the glycerine and heat it over the fire until the gelatine has been dissolved, and then until the water has passed away in steam. the carbolic acid is to keep the mixture from turning sour, and it must be added gradually now, before cooling begins. pour the whole into some shallow tray like the lid of one of those square tin boxes in which grocers keep biscuits. when the mixture has become firm and cold it is ready to be used. get a bottle of aniline ink and write or sketch whatever you desire to multiply. when the ink is dry place your letter or drawing face downwards upon the pad you have made with the gelatine. rub the back of the paper with your hand to force the ink upon the gelatine. when the paper has been upon the hectograph for some time strip it off and you will find that your drawing or writing has been transferred to the gelatine. if you now press clean paper upon this drawing or writing it will be printed upon the paper, and so you may have copy after copy. when you have as many as you need clean the surface of the hectograph for the next time you wish to use it. this may be done with a soft sponge and tepid water, but this process being rather tedious, most boys will be pleased to hear of an easier method, though it causes the hectograph in time to lose its clean appearance. put it in the oven and let it melt, and when it is cold again it will be ready for the next letter or drawing. the following is another way to make a hectograph: take of pure glycerine, parts; water, parts; barium sulphate, parts; sugar, - / parts; gelatine, - / parts. mix well together, and allow all to stand for twenty-four hours; then heat gently over a slow fire until the whole is melted, stirring continuously until the various ingredients are thoroughly amalgamated. it may now be poured into the shallow tin or dish prepared to receive it, and allowed to stand for a day where it will be free from dust. it should not be used until absolutely cold and firm. here is another method we have found very successful. take ounces of fine russian glue and fluid ounces of cold water. let the glue steep in the water until the water has been absorbed, or nearly so. now place the glue and water in a vessel upon the fire until the glue melts. it need not boil. add eight fluid ounces of common glycerine and six drops of carbolic acid, and also as much paris white as will make the solution milky. stir well and then pour the mixture into a shallow tray. in about twelve hours it will have set. for ink judson's purple dye will serve. $how to make a filter.$--you should procure a common flower-pot, nine or ten inches deep. put in a layer of animal charcoal two inches thick. wood charcoal may be used, but animal charcoal--that is charcoal made from bones--is best. on this put a layer of well washed sand. for the way to wash sand see page . the layer is two inches thick. then comes a two-inch layer of small pebbles, each about as large as a pea. at the hole at the bottom of the flower-pot should be a fragment of brick which fits the hole loosely. put the filter on a stool or on a shelf. there should be a hole in the stool or shelf to correspond with the hole in the flower-pot, and under the hole a vessel to catch the filtered water. the first drops that come through the filter may not be clear, but in about a quarter of an hour clear water will commence to issue from the hole in the bottom of the flower-pot. take out the sand and the pebbles and wash them thoroughly once in six weeks, and once in four months replace the vegetable charcoal. $the syphon.$--in aquarium work and in other occupations it is necessary sometimes to empty water from a vessel by means of a syphon. suppose that we wish to empty a bucket. the simplest thing would be to take the bucket and turn it upside down. suppose, however, the bucket were fast and could not be moved, or suppose there were some dregs or sediment in the bucket which we did not wish to disturb, then we should find a syphon useful. suppose a bucket is on a table. one end of a pipe is in the water in the bucket and the other end is dangling down. now if we can once induce the water to flow through the pipe the water will continue to run, although at first it has to run up-hill a little, a most unwaterlike proceeding. there are two ways of inducing the flow. if you take the lower end of the pipe and suck, water will be brought over the elbow. or if before you put the pipe in position you fill it with water, it will flow, and in each case it will continue to flow until it has emptied the bucket; that is, if the pipe reaches to the bottom of the bucket. $how to make a fountain.$--a fountain is based on the principle that water strives to find its own level. the water tries to rise as high as the reservoir which feeds it, and would succeed, but the pressure of the air prevents it. in a u tube the water keeps at the same level in each part of the tube, but if you were to cork one arm of the tube it would not come so high there, because the air would not allow it. the writer of this article when he was a boy made fountains for a fern rockery and for a garden aquarium in the following simple way:--upon the garden wall he placed a bucket. at the bottom of the bucket he punched a hole and inserted one end of a length of india-rubber tube bought from a shop where they sell the appliances for the teaching of chemistry. at the same place he bought some pieces of glass tubing of such a size that it would fit inside the rubber tubing. explain to the man in the shop, and he will know exactly what you need. take a few inches of the tube and hold the middle of it in the gas flame, or in a bunsen burner if you have one. when the glass is soft draw the ends asunder gently, and you will find you have two pieces of glass shaped like a fountain-pen filler. it may be that one end of each of these two pieces of tube may have been closed by this process, but all that needs to be done is to file the sharp point until you have come to where the tube is open again. this serves for the nozzle of the fountain. there were no fountain pens when the author made his fountain, and it has just occurred to him that perhaps the best thing would be to buy a fountain pen-filler at once and have your nozzle ready-made. if you make your own you may not get it right first time. it may be crooked or the opening too large or too small. however, there will be this advantage, you may make many nozzles, and so by changing them have a variety of sprays. the finer the opening the higher will be the jet. it is not difficult to apply the fountain to an aquarium. for a rockery it will be easy to arrange the pipe and nozzle, and to fix it in position with the stones. $case for shaving papers.$--decide upon the size of paper you like best. cut a piece of millboard, celluloid, or even thin wood the same size, and upon this paint an attractive design. now cut a strip of the same material as wide as this piece, but only an inch, or less, deep. arrange piece, paper and strip as in the sketch. a is the piece of millboard, b the sheets of paper, c the strip. at d e f bore holes and secure the whole with paper fasteners put through these. this pad may hang upon the wall with ribbon, but the design and not the strip should hang outwards. when all the pieces of paper have been used the paper fasteners may be unfastened, and a new set of papers introduced. the turned-down ends of the paper fasteners are ugly and are liable to scratch. paste over them very neatly a strip of brown paper or other suitable material. $a blotting pad.$--a very serviceable blotting-pad may be made upon the same principle as the case for shaving papers. the measurements only will be different, and a pad of writing paper may be made in the same way. [illustration: shaving papers.] [illustration: hygrometer.] $a hygrometer.$--this is a greek word made up of _hygros_ meaning moist, and _metron_ a measure. it indicates how much or how little moisture there is in the air. in the diagram is a small nail a, a thread b, or better still, a long hair begged from your mother, sister, or friend. c is a weight of some kind. the author had a penny that had a hole in it. hang this on a wall in your bedroom or in an outhouse, or even in some sheltered place out of doors. when you hang it up rule a line at d, and put the date. in damp weather the weight will rise, in dry it will descend so you may rule other lines showing where it was at different times of the year. the hair should be as free from oil as possible. you may have noticed that the clothes line slackens in dry weather, and tightens on rainy days, and this applies also to the cords of the window blinds. there is a story that when some men were putting a london monument in position, by a miscalculation it needed to be raised just a few inches more, and this elevation the men were unable to bring about. at last, from the crowd that had gathered to watch the proceedings, a sailor bawled, "wet the ropes." they wetted the ropes, and up went the heavy monument into its right place. chapter xx fireside amusements $chess in twelve easy lessons.$--there is nothing like beginning at the beginning, so i first give a diagram of the board and men as set out for play. [illustration: black. white.] it will be noticed that in the above diagram the square at the bottom right hand is a white one, and it is in this way that, by custom, the chess-board is always placed. the board is divided into squares, coloured alternately black and white, or some similar distinctive colours. the squares are always called "white" and "black," whatever their actual colour may be, and similarly the men are invariably termed "white" and "black," though, as a matter of fact, often coloured white and red. having got the board in proper position, with its white square at the bottom right-hand corner, the next thing is to set up the men in proper order. there are thirty-two men in all--sixteen white and sixteen black. they consist of the following:-- two kings: one white, one black. the white king stands on the fourth square, counting from the white player's _right_ hand, and the black king stands on the fourth square, counting from the black player's _left_ hand. this brings the two kings opposite each other, the white king standing on a black square and the black king on a white square. two queens: one white and one black. the white queen stands on the white square to the left of the square occupied by the king. similarly, the black queen stands on the black square next to the black king. it is of importance in setting up the men to bear in mind that the queens stand on squares of the same colour as themselves, the white queen being on a white square and the black queen on a black square. four bishops: two white and two black. these stand on the squares adjoining their respective king and queen. the one next the king is called the king's bishop, and the one next the queen is known as the queen's bishop. four knights: two white and two black. these stand on the squares adjoining the bishops. the knight nearest the king is called the king's knight; the other is called the queen's knight. four rooks: two white and two black. these occupy the four corner squares, the one nearest the king being termed the king's rook; the one nearest the queen the queen's rook. the rooks are sometimes called castles. these sixteen men are collectively called pieces. sixteen pawns: eight white and eight black. these stand on the squares immediately in front of the sixteen pieces. they are named after the pieces in front of which they stand, as the king's pawn, the queen's pawn, the king's bishop's pawn, and so on. as it would be very cumbrous to use the full name of each piece or pawn every time it may be necessary to refer to it, i shall in future use the recognised english notation, as follows:-- k for king. q for queen. b for bishop. kt for knight. p for pawn. other abbreviations will be-- sq for square. ch for check. dis ch for discovered check; and doub-ch for double check. written in this notation, king's rook's pawn becomes k r p, and queen's bishop's square q b sq, and so on. now for the practical use of this lesson. let all the readers who wish to learn the game first of all set the board before them as herein described. then let them place the white men in their proper order on the board, beginning with the k. similarly let them place the black men on the board, beginning also with the k. as a second try, let them place the men on the board beginning with one of the r's, and going across to the other r. finally, let them familiarise themselves with the english notation, as given above. by the time they have done this they will be in a position to benefit by a further lesson. ii the board.--the chess-board is not merely something upon which the game of chess is played; it is part of the game itself, for it limits, and, to some extent, controls the action of the men. in my first lesson i gave a diagram of the board with the men set out for play, and i now give an outline diagram of the board on which the name of each square is given, both from the white and the black side. now, in order to read the moves correctly, it is of the greatest importance for the student to understand the method of naming the various squares. from the diagram on page it is clear that, according to our english style, each square has two names, the white player naming the squares from his own side, and the black player from his. thus, what the white player calls his king's square the black player calls his king's eighth, and so on with all the other squares. all the boys who are taking an interest in these lessons should get this point fixed in their minds to avoid mistakes. [illustration: from black's side. from white's side.] iii the squares running across the board are termed _ranks_; those running up and down, _files_; and those in a slanting direction, _diagonals_. the squares, as will be seen, are named from the pieces, which, at starting, occupy their first rank; thus the square at the lower right-hand corner is white's king's rook's square (k r sq); the square immediately in front is white's king's rook's second (k r )--the word square being omitted; the next in front is white's k r , and so on till you come to white's k r . in a similar way you get white's k kt sq, or or , etc., or white's k or q sq, or or , and so on. similarly, by turning the board round, you count the squares from the black side as black's k r sq, or , etc., or black's k or q sq, or or , etc. the files are also named in a similar manner; thus the file running from white's k sq to black's k sq is called the k's file, and so with all the other files. the ranks are simply called first rank, second rank, etc. the diagonals have no special name, with the exception of the two running direct from one corner of the board to the other--that is, the diagonal from white's k r sq to black's q r sq, and that from white's q r sq to black's k r sq. these are called the long diagonals. of course, some of the very sharp boys who read this will at once exclaim, "why, they are the only diagonals a square can have, for a rectangular figure can only have two diagonals." well, that is all right in mathematics, but in chess, use or custom has brought about the practice of calling all the sloping lines of squares diagonals, and the two which, according to mathematics, are really diagonals, the long diagonals. having thus described the board, i next proceed to describe the moves of the various men. the king.--the king is by far the most important man on the board, inasmuch as a successful attack upon him (as will be explained later on) involves the loss of the game. on the other hand, his moves are much more circumscribed and his powers of attack more limited than those of any other man except the pawn. he moves only one square at a time, but that move can be made in any direction--that is, to any adjacent square, either forward, backward, sideways, or diagonally. place the king on his own square and he can move to q sq, q , k , k b , or k b sq. similarly, if he be placed on a centre square, he can move on to any of the eight adjacent squares. the king captures in the same direction in which he moves; that is, if any one of the enemy's men stands on an adjacent square to his own, he can occupy that square, the other piece being removed from the board, or "taken" or "captured," as it is termed. the king cannot move on to any square commanded by an enemy's man, or, as it is technically called, he cannot move into check; neither can the two kings occupy adjacent squares. once during the progress of each game the king has the option of an extension of his ordinary move, but this i will describe under its proper head of castling. the queen.--the queen is by far the most powerful piece on the board, as she possesses such a wide range of moves. like the king, she can move in any direction--forward, backward, sideways, or diagonally; but these moves are not confined to the adjacent squares, for the only limits to her range of moves are the sides of the board, provided no piece or pawn is in the way of her march. place the queen on her own square, and she can be moved to any one of twenty-one squares, namely, q b sq, q kt sq, q r sq, k sq, k b sq, k kt sq, k r sq, q , , , , , and squares, q b , q kt , q r , k , k b , k kt , and k r . similarly placed on a centre square, say q or , or k or , and it will be found that she commands (that is, can be moved to) no less than twenty-seven squares on a clear board. the queen takes in the same direction as she moves; this she does by displacing the enemy's man, and occupying the vacated square herself. the rook.--next in importance comes the rook. this piece moves forward, backward, or sideways, as far as the open board permits, but not diagonally. place the k r on its own square, and it can move to fourteen squares, namely, r's , , , , , and squares, k kt sq, k b sq, k sq, q sq, q b sq, q kt sq and q r sq. placed on any position on the open board, in a corner, at the side, or in the centre, it will be found that it always commands fourteen squares, neither more nor less. it captures in the same direction as it moves in a similar manner to the king or queen; that is, by removing the enemy's attacked man and occupying the square so vacated. iv the bishop.--the bishop moves diagonally only (that is, in a similar manner to a man at draughts) but he can pass over any number of squares that may be open to him. place the k b on its own square, and it can move on to any of the following seven squares, viz.: kt , r , k , q , b , kt , or r . placed on a centre square, it commands thirteen squares in all. it captures in the same direction as it moves, and in a manner similar to the k and q. from the nature of its move the b can never leave the squares of the colour on which it originally stood. therefore the white k b is always on a white square, and the black k b upon a black one. the knight.--whilst the move of the kt is one of the most beautiful upon the chess-board, it is, at the same time, the most difficult to describe, though a knowledge of its move is not by any means difficult to acquire by a little practice. it may be described as a combination of the shortest move of the r with the shortest move of the b; that is, one square in a straight direction--forward, backward, or sideways--and one square in a diagonal direction. place the k kt on its own square, and it can move on to the following three squares, viz.: k , b , and r . it will be seen that its imaginary r's move would bring it over kt , and then its imaginary b's move places it on b or r . or its imaginary r's move takes it over b sq., and then its imaginary b's move places it on k . placed on a centre square, say k's , it commands eight squares--k b , k kt , k kt , b , q , q b , q b , and q . it will be noticed that it invariably moves on to a square differing in colour from that which it has just left; or, in other words, that it leaps from a white square to a black one, and from a black square to a white one. this peculiarity arises from the combination of the r and b moves. place the kt again on k's (a white square), and it will be seen that the imaginary r's move brings it on to a square of a different colour (in this case a black one), either k , q , k , or b --and then the imaginary b's move keeps it on the same colour. the knight captures as it moves in the same manner as the other pieces--that is, the captured piece is removed from the board, and the capturing kt occupies the vacated square. it has one advantage possessed by no other man, and that is the power of leaping over any intervening piece or pawn, whether belonging to its own side or the enemy's. for example, when the men are first set out in battle array, the only piece that can move without some of the pawns first making an opening is the kt, for it can at once spring on to b or r , despite the intervening pawns. the pawns.--the pawn moves in one direction only, and that is one square straight forward (that is the shortest p's move, except that on its first move it has the option of moving forward either one or two squares). place the k p on its square, and it can move either to k or k . place on k , however, it can only move to k . unlike the pieces, the pawn does not capture in the same direction that it moves, but diagonally, one square only (the bishop's shortest move). place a pawn at k , and whilst it can move to k it can only capture at b or q . the capture is effected, as it is by the pieces, by removing the enemy's man and placing the pawn on the square thus left vacant. the pawn has the privilege of claiming promotion as soon as it reaches the eight square. this is done by its being exchanged for any piece of its own colour (excepting a king) which the player may desire. this is technically called "queening a pawn," although it does not follow that a queen is always called for. it is not necessary that the player should have lost a piece when he thus promotes a pawn, and it therefore follows that he can have two or more queens or three or more rooks, etc., on the board at the same time. this last statement may puzzle a good many boys, some of whom may say: "i am under the impression that there is only one set of chessmen used at a game of chess. if this is so i do not see that there can be two or more queens, etc., of the same colour on the board at the same time. will you kindly explain this?" they would be perfectly right in stating that only one set of men is used in a game. the set constitutes thirty-two men (sixteen white and sixteen black), and these thirty-two men form a complete set. to distinguish one piece from another different figures are used, but the shape of these figures is purely conventional, and flat counters could be used with the name or with some other distinguishing mark written on them. as a matter of fact, indeed, the mohammedans do play chess with such counters, sculptured figures of any kind being prohibited by the koran. now, supposing a set is rendered incomplete by a man being lost, the place of the lost man can be taken by anything that will serve to denote that the piece should be on the board. i have often played a game where a thimble has done duty for a bishop, and a small paper-weight for a rook, and so on. so that it is quite easy to get something to do duty as a second queen, etc. in clubs and chess resorts, where there are many sets of men, a second queen, if need be, is borrowed from another set. sometimes, where only one set of men is available, a rook (if one has been captured) is turned upside down, the promoted pawn is placed on the top, and there you have a most excellent substitute for a queen. supposing, however, that no piece has been lost when the pawn is promoted, then a piece of twisted paper can be placed on the head of the pawn, and again we have a good substitute for a queen. some boys may ask me to explain to them what is meant by "castling" and "taking _en passant_," and as it is somewhat difficult to do so without the use of diagrams, i think i cannot do better than give the required explanation. v castling.--in describing the move of the k, i stated that once during the game the k had the option of an extension of his ordinary move, and promised to describe it later on. this extended move of the k--or rather combined moves of k and r--is termed "castling." there are two species of castling, one on the k's side, the other on the q's side, as shown on the diagrams upon the next page. the operation of castling can only be performed once on each side in a game, and that under the following conditions:-- . the king must not be in check. . the king must not have moved. . the rook must not have moved. . the king must not pass over or occupy any square commanded by an adverse man. . all the squares between the king and the rook must be unoccupied. [illustration:] these five points being kept in view, castling is performed as follows:--on the king's side by the k being moved to k kt sq and the k r over him to k b sq. on the queen's side by the k being moved to q b sq and the q r over him to q sq. by inspecting the diagrams this will be made clear. in castling it will be observed that the k moves two squares (to the right or left, as the case may be), and the r leaps over him to the adjoining square. in castling it is always best to move the k first to show clearly that castling is the move intended. the diagrams show only white's method of castling, but black castles exactly in the same way. it must be borne in mind that previous checks do not prevent the k castling, so long as he has not been moved, and is not in check at the time of castling. the young player must also remember that though the k be on his own square, and the r on its square with no intervening piece, yet castling cannot be performed if either the k or r has moved, and then come back to his original square. pawn taking en passant.--this method of capturing can only be exercised by a p standing on its fifth square, and the captured p on the move immediately preceding the capture, have been played from the second to the fourth square. the following diagram will assist the student. [illustration:] if black in this position move the p to k , then the white p at b can capture it in the usual course, that is by taking it off the square it occupied at k and occupying the vacated square. should, however, the black p go to k's then the white p at b could capture it _en passant_, or "in passing" as the term means. this is done by lifting the b p from k (to which square it has gone) and placing the w p not on the square thus left vacant but on the k (black k ) precisely as if the black p had only moved to k . in the position on the diagram, should the black p go to k , then the white p at q's fourth could capture it in the ordinary manner. it must be borne in mind that the right of capturing _en passant_ must be exercised on the move immediately following the one which the adverse pawn has made its move from the second to the fourth square, otherwise the right lapses. vi i now resume the easy lessons by giving a list of technical terms. adverse piece, adverse pawn.--an "adverse piece" is a piece of an opposite colour to your own, and, of course, belongs to your adversary. similarly, an "adverse pawn" is a pawn of an opposite colour to your own. attack.--the combined action of several men against an adverse position. attacks, of course, are generally made directly against the king, but occasionally they are directed against some weak point in the enemy's position apart from the king. to attack: attacked.--a piece or pawn attacks an adverse man when it threatens to capture it on the move. a piece or pawn is said to be "attacked" when it is threatened with capture on the move by an adverse man. castling.--this combined move of k and r i have fully described previously. check.--this term signifies that the king is attacked by an adverse piece or pawn. it is one of the very fundamental principles of the game that the king cannot be captured, and therefore when a move is made by which he is attacked, notice thereof must be given by audibly saying "check." the king is now said to be "checked," or "in check," and this check must be at once parried. there are three methods by which this can be done:-- . by moving the king on to a square not commanded by any of the adverse men. . by interposing a man between the attacking piece and the king. . by capturing the attacking man. there are three descriptions of checks:-- . the "direct check," which is given by a piece or pawn directly attacking the king. . the "discovered check," or "check by discovery," which is given by a piece, which, whilst it does not attack the king directly, yet by its removal, uncovers an attack from another piece. . "double check," which is a combination of the "direct check" and the "discovered check." this is brought about by a piece directly attacking the king and at the same time uncovering an attack from another piece. this last is the most dangerous form of all the checks, for it cannot be parried either by interposition or capturing. the available defences of the king are therefore greatly lessened, as he must move to get out of check. vii checkmate.--when the king is in check and has no power of escape--that is, the attacking piece cannot be captured, the king moved, or a piece interposed between the king and the attacking piece--it is "checkmate," and the game is lost for his side. to escape from a double check the king must move, and if there is no square to which he can move the game is lost, though both the attacking pieces are _en prise_, for it is plain that if one be taken the check from the other yet remains. the diagram on page will help the student to understand these different checks. in the first place let white play r to q , and it is a _direct_ check. the black k cannot move out of check, as all the squares adjoining his present position are either guarded by white pieces, or blocked by black ones; neither can the r be taken, for no black piece attacks it. black, however, has one move to parry the check, and that is by playing q to q , or interposing the q as it is termed. similarly, white can play q to q sq, again giving _direct_ check, to which black can again only reply q to q . once more, white can play p to r , becoming a q or a b and giving _direct_ check, to which black's only reply is q, q kt . in the second place, if white play kt to q he gives a _discovered_ check; that is, by so moving his kt he uncovers the attack of the q upon the k, or, in other words, the kt moving discovers the check by the q. in reply to this move black has again only one move, that being p to b or interposing the p. if white play b r , q , b , or kt sq. there is again a _discovered_ check, for the r now attacks the k. in reply to this black has three lines of play, namely, k takes kt (at k ) which is left unguarded by the removal of the b, or by playing the q either to k , or kt interposing. if the b had gone to kt the q could only interpose at k ; and if it had gone to kt or r the k could not then capture the kt, but, instead, could have moved to k out of check. [illustration: black-- men. white-- men.] in the third place if the b move to k there is then given _double_ check, for whilst the b now directly checks himself, by moving he has also discovered the check from the r, and the king to get out of this double attack must move. he has two lines of escape, one by capturing the kt at k's third, the other by capturing the attacking b. in the fourth place let white play p k , and the k is in direct check; but it is now _checkmate_, for the k has no possible move out of check, and the checking pawn cannot be taken. again, let white play kt, kt , and he gives double check, for the kt checks directly, and has also discovered the check by the q. once more this is _checkmate_, for the k has no possible move. it is true that the b could capture the attacking kt, but then the q still checks and the danger of mate has not been averted; similarly, the p could cover at b , but the attack from the kt remains all the same. this aptly illustrates what i have already said as to the extra danger of a double check. viii close game.--see "game" later on. combinations.--the concentrated action of two or more pieces and pawns, operating in common either for attack or defence. command: commanded.--to "command" a square is to have the power of moving a piece on to it, or to capture an enemy's piece that already occupies it. to "command" the board is to have the pieces so placed that a great many of the squares are commanded. counter gambit.--see "game" later on. counter attack.--see "game" later on. debut.--a french word, meaning "opening," sometimes used by english writers on chess. defi.--a french word meaning "challenge," and sometimes used in english chess books. develop: development.--to develop a piece is to bring it into more active play. to develop a game is to bring as many pieces as you possibly can into active co-operation. doubled pawn.--two pawns of the same colour standing on the same file are said to be "doubled." generally, but not always, this is a weak position for the pawns to occupy, as one cannot support the other. doubled rooks.--when two rooks of the same colour occupy the same file, or the same rank with no man of their own colour intervening they are said to be "doubled." this is one of the strongest positions the rooks can occupy. end game.--see "game" later on. en passant.--a french term, meaning "in passing," and applied to a peculiar capture of p by p, which i have fully described previously. en prise.--a french term signifying "exposed," or in danger of capture. in chess a piece or pawn is said to be _en prise_ when it is attacked by an enemy's piece and not sufficiently guarded. we do not say, however, that the k is _en prise_ when attacked, but in check, as already explained. establish.--to establish a piece or pawn is to place it in such a position that it cannot be dislodged by the enemy's pieces, except at a loss. to establish a centre of pawns is to occupy the centre squares of the board with pawns, which mutually strengthen and support each other. exchange.--the winning of one piece by the losing of another. exchange, to win the.--the winning of a superior piece by losing an inferior one. especially used when a rook is won at the expense of a b or kt. the player on winning the r is said to have "won the exchange"; the player losing the r is said to have "lost the exchange." ix file.--each line of squares stretching from one player's side of the board to the other is termed a "file," and appears perpendicular in printed diagrams. each file is named from the piece which originally stood on its outermost square, as the king's file, the queen's file, the k r's file, and so on. the lines of squares stretching horizontally across the board are termed "ranks." file: open.--an open file is one unoccupied by pieces or pawns, and it is a great point that a rook should be played so as to command such a file. in the diagram on page the k b's file is "open," whilst white has doubled his rooks on the otherwise "open" k kt's file. fork.--a term originally applied to the attack of a pawn upon two of the opponent's men at the same time. it is now, however, so extended as to include the minor pieces when any one of them--more especially the kt, however--attacks two pieces at the same time. in the diagram the black pawn on q kt "forks" the q and b. if white plays p q ch, then the p "forks" both k and q. if the kt goes to q ch, it also "forks" k and q. similarly if kt b it "forks" the q and r, and lastly, if b takes kt ch, it "forks" k and q. a "fork" from a kt on two superior pieces is always dangerous, and often fatal, whilst that from a pawn is also dangerous. [illustration: black-- men. white-- men.] x gambit.--see "game." game.--besides its ordinary meaning, the word is used in a technical sense, such as "open game," "close game," etc. a game of chess has three phases more or less well defined. the "opening," the "mid game," and the "end game." the "opening."--the first or developing moves in a game, wherein the pieces are brought from their original comparatively inoperative position into active co-operation, both for attack and defence. it is here that book play comes in, and in the study of openings the young student of chess will find wide scope. the "mid game."--that portion of the game immediately following the opening; the pieces being developed on both sides, combinations result, and attack, defence, and counter-attack take place. it is here that the native skill of the player finds full scope for its display. the "end game."--the final scene of all, after the bustle and life of the mid-game pieces have been exchanged, the board stripped of the men, and the combat reduced to narrower bounds. here again book knowledge is of the greatest benefit to the player. it is to be noted that some games never pass into the third stage, for the attack in the mid-game may have been so strong that surrender was imperative forthwith. nay, in the hands of a weak player, or by some gross blunder, a game may be finished even in the "opening" stage. the "openings" may be thus classified-- (_a_) games, when neither player offers any sacrifice of material force in order to gain some strategical advantage. (_b_) gambits, when the first player offers to sacrifice some material force in order to quickly develop his game, or otherwise to gain some advantage in position. a pawn is generally sacrificed in the gambits. (_c_) counter gambits, when the second player makes the sacrifice. (_d_) defences, when the game gains its distinctive character from the line of play adopted by the second player. some "defences" may properly be termed _counter attacks_. there are many well-known openings, all of which have a distinctive name, sometimes that of their inventor, sometimes that of a well-known player who may have made them familiar, sometimes from some place or incident with which they have been connected. thus there are the "scotch game," the "steinitz gambit," the "greco counter gambit," the "philidor defence," and "petroff defence," the latter of which should be more properly termed "petroff counter attack." then there are many other recognised openings. xi game, close.--a "close" game is one wherein the development both of pieces and pawns is mainly of a conservative or non-committal nature, the pawns being very cautiously advanced, and the pieces mainly massed behind them. the term "close" is used to designate this class of openings, because, as a rule, for many moves the board presents a crowded appearance, owing to the massing of the pieces and pawns, and the few exchanges effected. great nicety is required in playing the "close" game, so that when the time does come for dissolving the close position, the pieces may occupy commanding positions. game, open.--an "open game" is one wherein the opening moves are of a more immediately attacking nature, and where the pieces are more quickly marched to the front. the game is termed "open" because the board, as a rule, soon presents an open appearance. pieces and pawns are often got rid of early, and attack and defence embarked on at an early stage. formerly all games commencing p k on each side were classed as open, and all games, such as the french, etc., wherein one or both players adopted other opening moves were classed as "close." this is, however, now given up, for as a matter of fact, many french defences develop into very "open" games indeed, whilst games commencing p k , p k often early take on a "close" character. "hole," a.--this is a modern term greatly used by mr. steinitz, who may be considered as the "great apostle" of what is called the "modern school" of chess. as used by him, a "hole" means any square on the third rank left unguarded by a pawn during the developing or opening moves. for example, if a player having advanced both his k p and q p, should follow this up by advancing his k b p, or his q b p, in each case he creates a "hole"; in one instance at k , in the other at q . these "holes" are regarded by modern theorists as very dangerous, for an adverse piece can often be posted with great advantage on the unguarded square. xii interpose.--to move a man between an attacked man and the opponent's piece which attacks it. very often "checks" to the king, and attacks upon the queen are warded off by interposing a pawn or piece. as an illustration of "interposing" let the student refer to the diagram on page . if white play q r ch, then black plays ... p kt , thereby warding off the check. the pawn thus moved is said to be interposed. similarly, if it were black's turn to move, and he played q k ch, or r q ch, then white could play either ... r kt sq, or ... kt b sq, either piece then warding off the check, or "interposing." isolated pawn.--when a pawn occupies any file, both the adjoining files of which are unoccupied by any pawns or pawn of the same colour, such pawn is said to be "isolated." in the diagram on page , white's pawns on q b and q r are both "isolated." isolated pawns in an end game are often weak, whilst pawns on adjoining files are generally strong. j'adoube.--this is a french term, and means "i adjust," and is used by players who may touch a man without intending to move it. any english expression signifying that the man is touched merely with the intention of adjusting it on the board may be used. any man that may be touched without such intimation being given, must be moved should it be the player's turn to move, hence the importance of saying "_j'adoube_" (or similar words) in such cases. young players (and indeed old ones also for that matter) should never get into a habit of touching any piece unless they intend to move it, except such piece manifestly needs to be adjusted on its square. such a habit is likely to irritate your opponent. $draughts in nineteen easy lessons.$--it is very easy to learn the moves of the men on the draught-board, but it is not quite so easy to learn to play draughts. draughts is not a complex game like chess, but simple and straightforward, and herein lies its charm to many people who are afraid of chess with its variety of men, and their diverse powers and moves. in draughts there is only one description of men when the board is set for play, and the only addition is when any of these men become promoted to kings by gaining the opposite side of the board from that whence they started. it is plain then that any boy can learn the moves of the game in a few minutes, and can at once commence to play. english draughts is played on the white squares of a -square board, the squares of which are alternately coloured white and black, white and red, or in some other similar distinctive manner. there are men-- white and black. [illustration: black. white.] above is a diagram of the numbered draught-board, and it is well for the beginners to number the white squares of their draught-board in a similar manner. the best way to do this is to write the numbers on small pieces of paper and stick these on the upper left-hand corner of the squares. then when the men are placed on the squares the numbers can still be read. it will be observed that the position of the board is the reverse of that of the chess-board, for here a black, and not a white square, occupies the lower right-hand corner. this brings what is technically called "the double corner" to the right hand of the player. the black "double corner" is formed by the squares and ; the white "double corner" by squares and . at the commencement of the game the black men occupy the rows of squares numbered from to , and the white the rows numbered from to , the intervening two rows, numbered from to , being vacant. the row to is black's crown-head, and the row to white's crown-head; the square being black's "single corner," the square white's "single corner." by usage in this country black is always given the first move, which again reverses the custom observed in chess. the first move at draughts, however, gives no advantage to the player having it, whereas in chess the advantage of the first move is of some moment. ii at draughts the men move forward diagonally from square to square. that is, a black man on can move to or , and a white man on can move to or . when a man reaches the far side of the board he becomes a king, or is crowned; that is, a second man is placed on top of him. a king moves precisely in a similar way to an ordinary man, except that he can go either backwards or forwards; that is, a king (either black or white) on can go to or , or or . in capturing or taking, the capturing piece jumps over the captured piece or pieces. supposing a black man is on and a white man on , whilst is vacant, then the black man can capture the white man. this he does by jumping over him to square , and the captured man is removed from the board. if a second white man stood on , and were vacant, the black man could jump over both the white men, and go to . the king captures in a similar manner, except that he can capture as he moves either backwards or forwards. iii a game at draughts is won when all the pieces of one colour have either been captured, or forced into such a position that their ultimate capture is certain, or where the remaining pieces of one colour are so blocked that the player thereof cannot move any of them when it is his turn to move, and the player, who thus captures or blocks all his opponent's men, is the winner of the game. a game at draughts is drawn when an end game results wherein the two forces are so balanced, both in number and position, that neither side can force the capture or blocking of all the pieces of the opposite side. the following positions are illustrations of the close of games. white to move and black to win. (fig. .) in this position white cannot go to , or he would lose at once; he therefore plays - , and the game goes on - , - , - , - , - , - , - . white has now no other move than - , whereupon the black king jumps over it and the game is won. had white had a king instead of a man he would just as surely have lost. black to move and win. (fig. .) in this position the pieces are perfectly equal on both sides, but black has the advantage in position. he played - , and the game goes on - , - , - , - . now white has no other move than - , whereupon the black king jumps over it to , and the remaining white man is "blocked" and consequently black has won. iv further illustrations of won and drawn games are the following positions:-- white to move and win. (fig .) black men on , , , , , , , and . kings on , , , and . white man on . kings on and . this is a position well known to old hands at the game; though it is not likely to occur in actual play, yet it illustrates the power of the "block." white has only three pieces against black's twelve, yet he wins the day. here is the play which brings this about:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - white now plays - and - alternately, and the black men must go forward until they are blocked; and white therefore wins. now, to illustrate one form of the draw, let the student look again at the first position in third easy lesson. had it been black's turn to move, no more than a draw would result, for black must play - , whereupon white plays - and runs down to , making a king and drawing. in the following position white has two kings to one, yet black, by the strength of his position, forces the draw. black to move and draw. (fig. .) black king on . white kings on and . the black now plays - or , white replies - or , whereupon the black king comes back to and the draw is manifest. v when a man reaches the crown-head in capturing, and thus becomes a king, that completes the move, although there may be a piece or pieces which could have been captured if it had been a king and not a man, which made the original capture. many of the finest stroke problems are based upon this peculiarity, for the opposing player has thereby time to make a move. the subjoined position (fig. ) shows another won game, the victory being brought about by white gaining a move through the black having to stop to be crowned. black men on , , , and . (fig. .) white men on , , and . white plays - , then black must play - and becomes a king. then the game goes on - , - , - . black must now play - , and white follows him up and takes him . if the piece on had been a king this could not have been brought about, for after going to , thereby taking the man on , the move would not then have been finished, but the king would have continued by taking the man on , thus winning easily. [illustration: black--one piece. white--one piece. fig. .] [illustration: black-- pieces. white-- pieces. fig. .] [illustration: black-- pieces. white-- pieces. fig. .] [illustration: black-- piece. white-- pieces. fig. .] many young players are puzzled how to force the victory when they have two kings against one, the single king being within reach of the "double corner." take the following position as an example:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white king on . black wins thus:-- - - - - - - - - - - (a) - - - - - b. wins. (a) it is here that many young players miss the point. they play - and black moves to - and the work is all to do over again. vi the last lesson showed how to win with two kings against one, the latter being able to reach the double corner. three kings can also win against two, even when each of these latter can reach a separate double corner. the way to win has often puzzled young players, but yet it is comparatively easy. the following position shows how to force the victory:-- black kings on , , and . (fig. .) white kings on and . black to move and win. the win is brought about thus:-- - (a) - (c) - - (f) - - - (e) - - (b) - (d) - b. wins. (a) one of the black kings must now go into the double corner. (b) this is an important move, forcing as it does the remaining king into the other double corner. (c) for if - , then - wins. (d) compulsory, for if - , then - wins. (e) if - , then - wins. (f) if - , then - wins. it will be noticed that black must force the exchange of a king, and then he wins with two kings against one, as shown in fifth lesson. vii already it has been pointed out that the weaker side, though a man down, can often force a draw by correct play. here is a position from sturge:-- black man on . king on . (fig. .) white men on and . king on . black to play and draw. the draw is brought about thus:-- - - - - - - - drawn. here is another example of a draw, this time by payne:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . black to move and draw. this position is more complicated than the former, and white can vary his moves to a considerable extent, but black, by careful play, can always force the draw. the point is that black must hold the white man on . here is a leading line of play:-- - - - (a) - - - - - - - - drawn. (a) if - then - draws. this is a useful position as similar endings often occur in actual play, and all younger students should study it carefully. viii here are some examples of easy forced wins. payne has the following:-- black man on . king on . (fig. .) white man on . king on . black to move and win. the win is brought about thus:-- - - - - - - - b. wins. another very interesting position is:-- black man on . kings on and . (fig. .) [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] white man on . kings on and . black to move and win. black wins thus:-- - - - - - b. wins. ix some of the finest play in end games occurs in positions when two kings more or less sheltered by the double corner are opposed by three kings or two kings and a man. the point for the player with the strong forces to seize, is either to force the exchange of a king for a king, or to give up a king for a forced won position. it is here that great nicety of judgment is required, and the greatest attention is necessary if the game is to be won. the following position is from payne:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . either to move. white wins. here is the win when black moves first:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - white wins (b) - - (a) - (a) here comes white's opportunity of sacrificing a king, thereby obtaining a position won by force. (b) for this king must ultimately "fix" the king now on . this is the victory when white moves first:-- - - - - - - - - - - (b) - - - - (c) - - - - - (d) - - - - - (a) - - - white wins (e) (a) not - , for then black wins two for one by - , and this danger must be guarded against for several moves. (b) this is the decisive moment when the sacrifice of the king must be prepared. (c) - , too, would lose, for white would then move up his king now on , and ultimately man off. (d) if - , - , - , - , and white wins. (e) black must play - or - , and then comes - , - , - , and all is over. x the play in these "double corner" positions is always of a very delicate nature. here is a drawn position from payne, requiring great nicety of play:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . black to move and draw. the draw is proved thus:-- - - - - - - - - (a) - - - drawn. (a) black keeps command of square and so forces the draw. here is another drawn position, from rogers:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . black to move and draw. the play on the position runs thus:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - (b) - (a) - - drawn. (a) - - - - - - - - drawn. (b) white cannot crown the man or force an exchange, and hence the game is drawn. [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] xi when the forces on each side are reduced to two men, or a man and a king each, many positions occur which are won, lost, or drawn by well-known and long-recognised lines of play, and all who wish to become draught players should have a knowledge of them. here is such a position:-- black man on . king on . (fig. .) white man on . king on . black to move and win. here is the win:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - (a) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins - - - by "first - - - position." (a) - - - - - - - black wins - - - by "first - - - position." here is another position:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . king on . black to move and win. this is the play for the defeat of your opponent:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins - - - by "first - - - position." - - - - - - the student will notice that all these victories are by "first position." this so-called "first position" will be explained in the next lesson. xii we now come to the ending known amongst all draught players as the "first position." black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . king on . black to move and win. if the student refers to the solution of the position on the first diagram in the eleventh lesson, he will find that the play shown in note (a) ends with the position shown above. the victory is brought about thus:-- - - - - - - - (a) - - - - - - - - (b) see - - - position - - - below. (a) - - - black - - - wins. - - (b) - - - - - - - black - - - wins. a more advanced stage of "first position." black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . king on . white to move. black to win. this position is formed at the end of main play of both positions given in eleventh easy lesson, as well as of main play in the position on the first diagram above. white has two lines of play. first-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black - - - wins. [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] second-- (a) - - - black - - - wins. - - - (a) both - and - lose at once by - . xiii a careful study of the principles underlying the play given in the positions in the eleventh and twelfth lessons will suffice to show the student how to secure success (if that is possible) when two kings are opposed to man and king, the latter commanding or occupying his opponent's double corner, where also the man can only hope to be crowned. if the single man and the king cannot be forced to take up some of the positions shown at some part of the different lines of the play, then the game will be drawn. the next class is composed of endings in which two kings are opposed to two kings and a man. the following diagram shows what is called the "third position." black man on . kings on and . (fig. .) white kings on and . black to move and win. the end is brought about thus-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins. xiv another class of endings is when three pieces are opposed to three pieces, generally, of course, drawn, but yet in some cases admitting of forced wins by delicate play. the following is a characteristic specimen of such a forced victory, and should be carefully studied by all young students of the game. it is well known to experts as the "second position." black men on and . king on . (fig. .) white men on and . king on . black to move and win. the play for the victory follows:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins. xv the position given below is well known to experts, and the play upon it is very fine; but with the proviso, "black to move and win," it cannot easily occur in actual play, as the student will speedily discover if he examine the position carefully. nevertheless, it aptly illustrates an important principle in end game play, and is well worthy of careful study. it is known as the "fourth position." [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] black man on . kings on , , and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . black to move and win, or white to move and draw. the black victory is brought about as follows:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black - - - wins. - - - the draw arises thus:-- - - - - - - - - - - drawn. - - - black can vary his play to some extent, but he can never man off to advantage, or force a winning position by any line of play, and the position is drawn. xvi here is an example of a black win brought about by very fine play, and well worthy of attentive study. it is by the celebrated james wyllie:-- black man on . kings on , , . (fig. .) white men on , . kings on , . white to move, black to win. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (b) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black - - - wins. - (a) - - - - - var. (a.) - - - black - - - wins. - - var. (b.) - - - - - - - - - - - black - - - wins. xvii the position given in the last easy lesson showed a black win when it was white's turn to play, but it is only a draw if black had to play first. let the student add to the diagram the condition "black to move, white to draw." the draw is brought about as follows:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - drawn. - - - - (a) - - - - - var.(a.) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - drawn - - - [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] here is a neat winning stroke from sturges:-- black kings on , , . (fig. .) white kings on , . black to move and win. the win is forced thus:-- - , - , - . black wins. xviii i give the following beautiful example of a black win by w. g. w. leggett:-- black man on . kings on and . (fig. .) white men on , , . king on . black to move and win. the win is thus brought about:-- - (b) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (a) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins. var. (a.) - - - - - - - black - - - wins. var. (b.) - - - black - - - wins. xix classified list of principal openings. - opening. edinburgh [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] - opening double corner - choice - , - , - - opening denny - - opening kelso - - opening. ayrshire lassie - , - , - , - second double corner - , - virginia - , - , - glasgow (irregular) - , - , - , - - , - , - wilter (irregular) - , - , - , - - fife - , - , - , - - souter - , - , - , - - sunderland - , - , - , - - defiance - , - , - , - will o' the wisp - , - , - old fourteenth - , - , - , - - alma - , - , - , - - glasgow - , - , - , - - laird and lady - , - , - , - - centre - , - , - , - - doctor - , - , - , - - , - , - , - - nailor - , - , - , - cuckoo - , - , - , - wilter - , - , - wilter-cross - , - , - , - - , - cross - , - cross choice - , - , - dyke (second irregular) - , - , - , - - , - , - single corner - , - , - , - - flora temple - , - , - , - - maid of the mill - , - , - maid of the mill - , - , - , - (irregular) - pioneer - , - , - , - white dyke - , - , - , - albemarle - , - , - , - - , - erie - , - , - , - - dyke - , - , - dyke (irregular) - , - , - , - - boston - , - , - , - wagram - , - , - , - switcher - , - - opening. bristol - , - liverpool - , - , - , - - paisley - , - manchester - , - london - , - white doctor - , - , - , - - , - , - leeds - , - newcastle - , - - opening. dundee - the losing game. as a matter of fact very fine scientific play is possible with this form of draughts, but all the same the youngest beginner can play at it, and very amusing results will follow. the object in the game is for one of the players to give all his men away, or get them fixed immovably, which, of course, would be a lost game in ordinary draughts, but is a won one at the losing game. it must be borne in mind, in playing the losing game, that it is not good policy to give away men at the beginning of the game so as to be left with three men against six, or two against five, for as a matter of fact in most positions the player with the superior forces can give all his men away, leaving the other player with one or more of his men left. here is where the laugh comes in. the hasty player keeps giving away his men until possibly he has only one left, whilst his more wary opponent has three or four. but can he give that man away and so win? not much! he soon finds he is perfectly helpless, and the other player can force him to take all his men, whilst his solitary man or king remains still on the board, a woeful example of "vaulting ambition, overleaping itself and falling on t'other side." in the losing game it is a case of "the more haste the least speed," for he who is too hasty to give away his men at the beginning finds he cannot give the remainder away at the end. from the first "position" must be played for, the board opened, and men exchanged carefully, so that at the end the player who wants to win may have such advantage that he can compel his opponent to capture his remaining pieces. when the game is reduced to one man on each side he who has "the move," as it is called, which would enable him to win, or draw, at the least, in the ordinary game must lose at the losing game. here is an example of a losing game. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - white wins, - - - for his sole - - - remaining man - - - is blocked. - - - - - - - - - another form of the losing game is for one player to have all his twelve men against a single man of the other player. i give a position of this kind as [illustration: a problem in the losing game. black. white. fig. .] the black men on their original squares. white man on . black to move and win, that is, give all his men away. another funny form of draughts is for one player to give the other the odds of having once (or oftener during the progress of the game) the right of moving twice in succession, this right being exercised at such time as the odds-receiver may choose. there should be great disparity in the strength of the two players, as the odds is really very great. the interchanged men. as a final poser for those who like to puzzle their brains, i give the following as a problem. place the men in due order on the draught-board, and then by a series of legal moves reverse the position of the men, that is, the black men must stand where the white men came from, and _vice versa_. $quaternions.$--quaternions is the name of a somewhat easy yet interesting game played on a checkered board (similar to a draughts board) with thirty-two counters or draughtsmen (sixteen white and sixteen black). the players move alternately by placing one of their men on a white square of the board, and the object of the game is to get four men of the same colour in a line, either perpendicular, horizontal, or diagonally, and the player who first succeeds in doing this wins the game. of course, each player also does his best to stop his opponent from forming his quaternion or file of four. should neither player be able to form a quaternion, then the game is drawn. to show clearly what a quaternion is, i give the following diagram:-- [illustration: black. white. fig. .] the four men on squares , , , and , form a quaternion, and similarly do those on , , , and , and those on , , , and . the numbers here given to the squares are the same as in draughts. the point to be borne in mind in playing the game is to try to unite a perpendicular with a horizontal line of squares, or with a diagonal line. by careful play three men can be got on one of these lines, and three on a communicating line, each having a vacant square. the player of the opposite colour can fill only one of these squares, and consequently cannot prevent the formation of the quaternion on the other line. the most careful play on both sides is required from the very first move, or the game can be forced right off. i give a diagram of an opening:-- [illustration: black. white. fig. .] it is now black's turn to play, and he must stop white from forming a line of three men with a vacant square at each end. to do this he must place a man either on or . supposing he plays on to , then white can force the game thus:-- white. black. black plays on to stop white getting an open three; would not be so good. the position is now as diagrammed:-- [illustration: black to play. fig. .] it will be seen that white has now three on a perpendicular (beginning at ) with a vacant square, and he also has three on a diagonal (also beginning at ) with a vacant square. black can now only occupy one of the vacant squares, and white thereupon occupies the other, thereby forming his quaternion and winning. black lost the game on his second play by placing his man on ; had he gone on to his game would have been as good as white's. now for a few general hints. open the game on the middle of the board. play to squares near those occupied by your opponent's men. keep your men in connection (with an eye to forming threes, as in the illustrative game given above). keep forming threes as long as you can so as to force your opponent to stop the threatened quaternion. keep a wary eye always on your opponent's game, and try to confine him as much as possible so as to prevent him from forming threes with an adjacent vacant square. play the cautious game rather than the risky one--that is, keep the draw always in hand, and win if you can. $consequences.$--each player has a slip of paper. three inches broad and eight inches long is a convenient shape and size. each player writes upon the top an adjective which might be applied to a lady, and then folds the top of the slip so as to cover the word. all now pass their slips to their neighbours so that each one has another slip. without looking at the adjective, which should be well covered by the fold, each writes the name of a lady who is in the room, and folds the slip again so that no writing may be seen. once more the slips are passed along, and upon the new slip which each player has now should be written an adjective applicable to a gentleman. fold the paper and pass it along again. this process is repeated until this adjective has been followed by the name of some gentleman of the party, then by the name of a place, next by what the gentleman said to the lady, then her reply. after that come the consequences, and finally what the world said. all the slips are now dropped into a hat, and someone is appointed to read them one by one, supplying the verbs in the right place. they will create roars of laughter, for they will run something like this: simpering jane cook met knock-kneed peter thompson up a tree. he said to her, "well, i am surprised" and she replied, "does your mother know you're out?" the consequences were that he pawned his boots, and the world said, "i told you so." $concert.$--the players having selected a "conductor," seat themselves round him. the conductor now gives to each a musical instrument, and shows how it is to be played. when all are provided with their imaginary instruments, he orders them to tune, and so gives each musician a chance to make all sorts of noises. next the conductor waves an imaginary _baton_, and begins to hum a lively tune, in which he is accompanied by his band, each player imitating with his hands the different movements made in performing on his supposed instrument. every now and then the conductor pretends to play an instrument, and the player to whom it belongs must instantly alter his movements for those of the conductor, and continue to beat time until the conductor abandons his instrument. should a player fail to take the conductor's office at the proper time, he must pay a forfeit. $shadow buff.$--a sheet or other large piece of white linen should be fastened at one end of the room, so that it hangs without wrinkles; buff seats himself on a low stool with his face to the sheet, and a table, on which is a lighted candle, should be placed about four or five feet behind him, and the rest of the lights in the room extinguished. buff's playfellows next pass in succession, between him and the candle, distorting their features as much as possible--hopping, limping, and performing odd antics, so as to make their shadows very unlike themselves. buff, who is not blindfolded, must try to guess to whom the shadows belong, and if he guesses correctly, the player whose shadow he recognises takes his place. buff is allowed only one guess for each person, and must not turn his head either to the right or to the left to see who passes. $the boat race.$--a most exciting game, and one that is particularly suited to parties. any number of players may take part in it, the more the merrier, and they must be divided into two sides. the players stand in two rows, facing one another; at one end of the line there is the starter and at the other the umpire. at the word "go!" the starter drops a penny into the hands of each of the two men nearest him. these two men then drop it into the outstretched palms of the people next to them, and so the pennies are passed along from one to the other, and the winning side is the one which manages to get its penny into the hands of the umpire first. a great point which all the players must bear in mind is that on no account must the coin be touched by the fingers. each player must secure the penny in the palms of his hands placed together, and must drop the penny into the hands of the man next him by simply opening his palms. this greatly adds to the fun of the game. in the hurry to pass on the coin the excited player will drop the money and pick it up in his fingers, and his side is then disqualified for that game. $a musical glass.$--take a thin cut-glass goblet, and having cut out of stiff writing-paper a cross with arms of equal length, lay it on the top of the glass, and turn down each end of the four arms, so that the cross will not slip off. having thus fitted the cross, take it off the glass and pour water into the glass until it is nearly full. now wipe the rim carefully, so that no particle of moisture remains on it, and replace the cross. you can make the glass vibrate and give out a sound by rubbing your damped finger over some part of the exterior. that is why it is called a musical glass; but an even more wonderful experiment may be made with it. you rub the glass with your damped finger under one of the arms of the cross; the cross will not move. rub it between any two of the arms, and the cross will begin to turn slowly, as if by magic, and will not stop turning until one of the arms reaches a point immediately over the place you are rubbing. you can then move your finger round the glass and make the cross move as you please. $boomerangs.$--the wooden boomerang of the australian savage has elements of danger, and attempts should not be made to throw it except away from other people and from animals. even the thrower will do well to have a tree behind which he can retire; but meanwhile much fun can be derived from small boomerangs made of pasteboard. they should be cut in the shapes given, a and b are the best. there is no need to be very exact, but the card should not be bent and should be capable of lying flat upon a table. other similar shapes may be invented. the curious flight of a little boomerang of this kind is induced by placing it upon a book with one of its ends projecting over the side of the book. raise the book to a level with your eyes and then with a pencil or penholder strike sharply the edge of the boomerang near the end. do not treat the boomerang as though you were playing at tip-cat or "peggy," and avoid smiting it upon its upward flat surface. when you have learned to hit it properly it will skim through the air, then rise a little, and finally come back to some place not far from its starting-point. in any case its peculiar movements are likely to be amusing. a flip with the finger nail is another way to start the boomerang upon its course. $an amusing game.$--in this game the ball is an empty egg-shell, and the field a covered table. after the sides have been chosen--any number of persons taking part--the players kneel at both sides of the table, a captain at the head on one side, and another captain at the foot on the other side. in front of each captain are placed two upright articles--candlesticks, tumblers, or what not. these are the goals, across which a ribbon is stretched. [illustration: boomerangs.] the egg-shell is placed in the centre of the table, and put in play by both captains blowing at it. all the other players then assist in the blowing, which keeps the ball moving about the table at such a rapid succession of tangents as to cause a great deal of fun. soon most of the players will be helpless with laughter. a touchdown, which scores four points, is made by blowing the ball through the opponents' goal. the captain of the victorious side then takes the ball back to the opposite goal and blows it across the table, the object being to pass it through the same goal again. this, if successful, scores two more points. the time limit of the game is thirty minutes, divided into two parts of fifteen minutes each. after the first half the two teams change positions, as in football. $nine men's morris.$--two persons, having each of them nine pieces, or men, different in colour from those of his opponent, lay them down alternately, one by one, upon the spots; and the aim of both players is to prevent his antagonist from placing three of his pieces so as to form a row of three without the intervention of an opposing piece. if a row be formed, he that made it is at liberty to take up one of his competitor's pieces from any part he thinks most to his advantage; unless he has made a row, which must not be touched. when all the pieces are laid down, they are played backwards and forwards in any direction that the lines run, but can only move from one spot to another at one time. he that takes all his antagonist's pieces, is the winner. [illustration: nine men's morris. fox and geese.] $fox and geese.$--fifteen draughtsmen serve for the flock of geese. the fox may be two draughtsmen placed one upon another. the game is played on a board marked as shown in the illustration. sometimes holes are pricked at the junction of the lines and pegs are used instead of draughtsmen. the fox is placed in the middle of the board, and the geese as shown in the illustration. the game is to confine the fox to some spot on the board, so that there shall be either the edge of the board or else two rows of men round him. when the fox cannot escape, the game is done, and the player of the geese wins; but when one of the geese is left on a point next to that occupied by the fox, and is not supported by another goose behind, or by the edge of the board, the fox can take it, and by jumping over its head to the next space, as in draughts, he may, perhaps, escape the others, as all the geese are compelled to move forwards towards the end of the board that was unoccupied at the commencement of the game. the fox is allowed to move either backwards or forwards. neither the fox nor a goose must be moved more than one space at a time. if the fox neglects to take when he has a chance, he is huffed, and one of the captured geese is restored to the board. the fox should avoid getting into the lower square of the board if possible, as he will find it difficult to extricate himself from a position which can be so easily blockaded. [illustration: fox and geese--a second method.] a second method.--there is another way of playing fox and geese on a chessboard, with four white men, representing the geese, and one black one, for the fox. the geese are placed on the four white squares nearest one player, and the fox may be put where his owner pleases. the best place for him is that marked in the diagram. the geese can move forward only, and the fox moves either way. the object of the geese is to pen the fox so that he cannot move, and the fox has to break through. the geese have a great advantage, and a good player keeps them in a line as much as he can. this the fox tries to prevent, and if the geese make a false move he is able generally to break through the line. $puzzles.$--dead dogs made living.--the dead dogs are, by placing two lines upon them, to be suddenly aroused to life and made to run away. how and where should these lines be placed, and what should be the shapes of them? the springs puzzle.--a is a wall, b c d three houses, and e f g three springs. it is required to bring the water from e to d, from g to b, and from f to c, without one pipe or channel crossing the other, and without passing outside of the wall a. three-square puzzle.--cut seventeen slips of cardboard of equal lengths, and put them on a table to form six squares, as in the figure. now take away five of the pieces, leaving only three perfect squares. six and five make nine.--draw six vertical lines, and, by adding five more lines let the whole make nine. cylinder puzzle.--cut a piece of cardboard about four inches long, of the oblong shape of the figure, and make three holes in it as shown. make one piece of wood pass through, and also exactly fill, each of the three holes. [illustration: dead dogs made living.] [illustration: the springs puzzle.] [illustration: three square puzzle.] [illustration: six and five make nine.] [illustration: cylinder puzzle.] [illustration: a button puzzle.] a button puzzle.--in the middle of a piece of leather make two parallel cuts, and below a small hole of the width of the distance between the cuts, pass a piece of string under the slit and through the hole, as in the diagram, and tie two buttons much larger than the hole to the ends of the string. the problem is to draw the string out without taking off the buttons. a slit puzzle.--cut a round piece of wood as in a, and four others, like b. get them all into the cross-shaped slit, as in c. [illustration: a slit puzzle.] [illustration: creeping through a small space.] creeping through a small space.--take a piece of cardboard or of leather, the shape and size suggested in the diagram. cut it in such a way that you may creep through it, still keeping it in one piece. an ingenious square.--here is a way to place one to nine in three rows of three figures each, so that they will add up to fifteen in eight different ways. [illustration] +--+--+--+ | | | | +--+--|--| | | | | +--+--+--+ | | | | +--+--+--+ [illustration: circle puzzle.] +-------------------+ |o o o| | | | | | o o | |o o| | o o | | | | | |o o o| +-------------------+ the cabinet-maker's problem.--a cabinet-maker had a round piece of veneering, with which he has to cover the tops of two oval stools. it so happens that the area of the stools, without the hand-holes in the centre, and the circular piece, are the same. how must he cut his veneer so as to be exactly enough for his purpose? circle puzzle.--secure a piece of cardboard, the size and shape of the diagram, and punch in it twelve holes in the position shown in the diagram. cut the cardboard into four pieces of equal size, each piece to be of the same shape, and to contain three holes, without cutting into any of them. the nuns.--twenty-four nuns were placed in a convent by night to count nine each way, as in the figure. four of them went for a walk; how were the remaining nuns arranged in the square so as still to count nine each way? the four who went out returned, bringing with them four friends; how were they all arranged still to count nine each way, and thus to deceive the sister in charge, as to whether there were , , , or in the square? [illustration: the nuns.] cross-cutting.--how can you cut out of a single piece of paper, and with one cut of the scissors, a perfect cross, and all the other forms that are shown in the diagram? cross puzzle.--cut three pieces of paper to the shape of a, one to the shape of b, and one to that of c. let them be of the same relative sizes as in the diagram. place the pieces together so as to form a cross. more cross cutting.--with three pieces of cardboard of the form and size of a, and one each of b and c, to form a cross. [illustration: cross cutting.] [illustration: cross puzzle.] [illustration: more cross cutting.] a problem for surveyors.--a gentleman who lived in a house on an estate decided that he would divide the estate into five building plots. there were ten fine old trees, and his instructions to the surveyor were: don't count my house in the division. i shall have that extra, but divide the remainder of the park into five equal parts with straight boundaries. i shall retain one part for my own grounds. be careful to arrange that each plot shall have two of the trees. how did the surveyor divide the estate? [illustration: a problem for surveyors.] another problem for surveyors.--a squire planted a number of oaks when his heir was born, and on the twenty-seventh birthday of the young man there was a tree for every year, and yet though there were only trees, there were ten rows and six trees in each row, which made sixty, the age of the squire himself. how did he manage it? halfpence puzzle.--place ten halfpence in a row on the table. take up one of them and place it on another, never in any case passing over more than two halfpence. repeat the operation until no halfpenny remains by itself in the row. puzzling advice.--read the following:-- if your b m t put : when your is . putting : the miser's ruse.--a miser once asked his tenants to dinner at an inn, and asked the landlord to join the party. when the bill was presented, the miser suggested that they should cast lots who should pay the score. it was decided that they should be counted by the days of the week, and that every time he who counted called "saturday," the person so named should leave the room until there was only one man left, and he should pay. how did the miser manage to throw the expense on the landlord? two eyes better than one.--put a coin on a table's edge, with half the coin's edge overlapping. move three yards away and close one eye; now advance, and try to knock it off with one finger, keeping the one eye shut all the time. [illustration: the double handcuffs.] wolf, goat, and cabbages.--suppose a man has a wolf, a goat, and some cabbages on the bank of a river, and he wishes to cross with them, and that his boat is only large enough to carry one out of the three besides himself. he must, therefore, take them over one by one, in such a manner that the wolf shall have no opportunity of devouring the goat, or the goat the cabbages. in which way is he to do this? the double handcuffs.--ask two friends to allow their hands to be fastened together with string, which must be looped, as shown in the illustration. now tell them to liberate themselves without unfastening the knots, or cutting the string. answers to puzzles. [illustration: dead dogs made living.] [illustration: the springs puzzle.] three-square puzzle.--take away the pieces numbered , , , , , and three squares only will remain. [illustration: six and five make] a slit puzzle.--arrange the pieces side by side in the short arms of the cross, draw out the centre piece, and the rest will follow easily. the same process reversed will put them back again. [illustration: slit puzzle.] [illustration: creeping through a small space.] creeping through a small space.--double the cardboard or leather lengthways down the middle, and then cut first to the right, nearly to the end, and then to the left and so on to the end of the card; then open it and cut down the middle, except the two ends. by opening the card or leather, a person may pass through it. a tough leaf may be treated in this way. [illustration: circle puzzle.] the cabinet-maker's problem.--the cabinet-maker must find the centre of the circle, and strike another circle, half the diameter of the first, and having the same centre. then cut the whole into four parts, by means of two lines drawn at right angles to each other, then cut along the inner circle, and put the pieces together as in the following diagram. [illustration: cabinet-maker's problem.] [illustration: the nuns.] [illustration: more cross cutting.] button puzzle.--pull the narrow slip of the leather through the hole, and the string and buttons may be released. [illustration: cross cutting.] [illustration: cross puzzle.] cross cutting.--take a piece of writing paper about three times as long as it is broad, say six inches long and two wide. fold the upper corner down, as shown in fig. ; then fold the other upper corner over the first, and it will appear as in fig. ; you next fold the paper in half lengthwise, and it will appear as in fig. . then the last fold is made lengthwise also, in the middle of the paper, and it will exhibit the form of fig. , which, when cut through with the scissors in the direction of the dotted line, will give all the forms mentioned. [illustration: cylinder puzzle.] cylinder puzzle.--take a round cylinder of the diameter of the circular hole, and of the height of the square hole. having drawn a straight line across the end, dividing it into two equal parts, cut an equal section from either side to the edge of the circular base, a figure like that represented by the woodcut in the margin would then be produced, which would fulfil the required conditions. halfpence puzzle.--place the fourth on the first, seventh on the third, fifth upon the ninth, the second upon the sixth, and the eighth upon the tenth. puzzling advice.-- if your grate be (great b) empty, put coal on. when your grate is (great is) full, stop putting coal on. the miser's ruse.--the counting, which stopped at every seventh man, was made to begin at the sixth from the landlord, who sat at the end of the table. wolf, goat, and cabbages.--first he takes over the goat; he then returns and takes the wolf; he leaves the wolf on the other side, and brings back the goat; he now takes over the cabbages, and comes back once more to fetch the goat. thus the wolf will never be left with the goat, nor the goat with the cabbages. [illustration: a problem for surveyors.] [illustration: another problem for surveyors.] the double handcuffs.--this is the way to do it. c must gather up into a loop the string which binds his hands, pass it under the string fastened round either of b's wrists, and slip it over b's hands. this done, both will be set free. to replace the strings, reverse the process. chapter xxi work and play at the bench $wood carving.$--the best kinds of wood include white holly, walnut and sycamore, and pieces of empty cigar boxes, often spanish cedar, are not to be despised. a pocket-knife, some bradawls, a few files, flat, round and triangular, a fine saw and some coarse sandpaper complete the tools needed for most of the work. draw very carefully upon paper the design with which you wish to ornament some article you may have made with wood. when you have at last drawn the design quite accurately there are many ways in which you may transfer the drawing to the wood. it may be pasted upon the wood so that paper and wood will be cut away together in those parts that are to fall below the general surface of the wood and at the end the paper that remains may be washed away. another way is to cut out the design with scissors, lay it upon the wood and go carefully round the edges with a lead pencil; or you may without cutting it out place it upon the wood and prick through the design or at any rate the principal points with a pin. if you were to scribble with crayon, coloured chalk or pencil upon the back of the paper and were then to lay the paper upon the wood and go over the design with a hard point, using some pressure, the design would be transferred to the wood, or still another way would be to use carbon paper (see chap. xxiv.) between the paper and the wood instead of scribbling upon the back of the paper. however, we will suppose the design in some way or another has been placed in pencil upon the wood. now with regard to every part in which the intention is to take out the wood completely from front to back bore a hole. then take your fret-cutter's saw or dentist's saw and unfastening one end put this end through the hole and fasten it again. saw perpendicularly. at this stage the young carver will need to decide whether he will follow the pencil lines exactly. if he is a very expert sawyer he may, but it is much safer to leave a little wood to be removed by pocket-knife, chisel, or file. it is easy to do this; but if he saws out a little too much wood, if he transgresses the pencil line, he cannot put back the wood he has wrongfully cut away. after the filing a little rubbing with sandpaper will complete the work. sometimes it is an advantage to adjust the saw in its frame with the teeth inside or sideways. $how to make a schooner.$--take a block of wood two feet four inches long, eight inches wide, and eight inches deep. we name this as a convenient size; but a boy may if he likes make his boat twice this size, or half this size, and so long as he makes his alterations in proportion it will not matter. try to get the wood without knots or other faults. white pine or deal with a straight grain is the best, for this wood is easy to cut into shape, and it is light. [illustration: fig. ] before the schooner is shaped it should be hollowed. draw a straight line with pencil along the centre of the upper surface of the block a b (fig. ). if the breadth of the block is eight inches then the centre will be four inches from each edge. next, in a similar way divide the length of the block into two equal parts with a pencil line c d. if the length is two feet four inches then this line will be one foot two from each end of the block. now divide the length into three equal parts by the lines e f and g h. one third of two feet four inches is nine inches and one third of an inch, so that each of the three parts will have this measurement. draw now the line i j c b and when this line is of the right shape make a tracing of it, and from the tracing a cardboard model. by placing this model upon the other side of the line a b and drawing round its edge you will get the line b d k i and it will be exactly like i j c b, a very important matter. with a knife, gouge, and chisel the boat may now be hollowed with care, and we may repeat that it is easier to hollow the block before its outside has been shaped than afterwards, because it stands now more firmly upon the table or bench. the shape of the outside is shown in fig. , and it should be noticed that the line l m n is not straight but curves so that m is the lowest point and l and n the highest. upon the counter at o a hole must be bored for the stern-post, which will come through at p in fig. . [illustration: fig. ] it is well from time to time to try the boat in water to see if it floats evenly, or if more has been taken from one side than the other. these little matters should be corrected, and a number of little touches will be needed here and there with tools or sandpaper before the vessel is right inside and out. then put a deck of thin wood over the hollowed part. this should be fitted very carefully so that no water can pass into the hold of the ship. if bulwarks are desired the deck may be half an inch or an inch below the edge of the vessel, but if the deck is flush with the sides of the hull there will be no place for water to lodge. we now come to the masts, of which there will be two. for the foremast make a hole through the deck at q on fig. . it is about an inch from the line g h. at r two inches from the line e f a similar hole should penetrate the deck for the main mast. the circumference of the lower masts should be one inch and three quarters, but an inch will serve for the topmasts. the bowsprit and the booms should measure one inch and a quarter round, and the gaffs an inch. [illustration: a schooner.] a bobstay. b bowsprit. c forestay. d stay foresail. e foremast. f gaff foresail. g fore gaff. h fore boom. i mainmast. j mainsail. k main boom. l main gaff. m main topmast. n gaff topsail. o main topmast stay. p fore peak haulyards. q fore throat haulyards. r main peak haulyards. s main throat haulyards. t mainsheet. u foresheet. v stay foresheet. w rudder. x lead ballast. y forecap and cross trees. z maincap and cross trees. linen will serve for the sails, and odds and ends of fishing lines for the ropes and rigging, with stouter cord like whipcord for the shrouds. the caps, deadeyes, blocks and such things may be made, but the process is wearisome and difficult and perhaps the better way is to buy them. the following measurements will be useful:-- inches bowsprit - / foremast mainmast topmast fore boom - / fore gaff main boom main gaff the sails should be made to fit these. if the schooner has been properly made she will sail well with the rudder but slightly turned to one side. if it is necessary to turn her rudder much she will lose speed and will not rank in the first class. to steady the schooner it is necessary to nail or screw along her keel, a strip of lead as ballast. err upon the side of making this too heavy, because it is easier to cut and file away than it is to add. $the making of a cutter.$--having made a schooner it will not be difficult to make a cutter from the appended diagrams with a few particulars regarding the measurements. [illustration] the cutter has but one mast reaching about fifteen inches above the deck. this is surmounted by a seven-inch top-mast, so that the complete height above the deck is twenty-two inches. here are the other measurements. bowsprit, inches from the stem of the vessel to the end. main gaff, inches long. main boom, inches. [illustration: a cutter.] a bobstay. b bowsprit. c forestay. d foresail. e jib. f topmost stay. g mast. h topmast. i mainsail. j main boom. k main gaff. l gaff topsail. m peak haulyards. n throat haulyards. o main sheet. p rudder. q lead ballast. r jib sheets. s the cap. t cross trees. $a sleigh that can be steered.$--with the sketches we shall give, a boy unaided, or with a little assistance from a carpenter, will be able to make a sleigh that he can steer. take a piece of board - / feet long, six inches wide and / of an inch thick. ash is excellent. avoid large knots. let fig. represent the face of the board. from b measure three inches to c. connect a c. from a measure two feet, four times. these measurements will give you d e f g. from c repeat this process and you will have h i j and k. saw from a to c; from d to h; from e to i; f to j, and from g to k. you will have now four pieces of wood like the piece in fig. and some wood to spare for a purpose that will be explained soon. with regard to your four pieces of wood which are to serve for runners remember that two will be right-hand runners and two left-hand runners, because the treatment of each kind varies a little. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] with regard to fig. draw the curved line a e. no rule can be given for this except that b e represents eight inches. cut the curve from a to e, round off the angle c d b a little, and you will have a runner from which the three remaining runners may be made. this runner however is not yet finished. from c in fig. measure - / inches to f, then another - / inches to g. make f h one inch deep and g i. then connect h i. measure inches from g to j and then mark off j k l m making it like h g f i. now direct your attention to the upper edge of the runner represented in fig. . two points will have been fixed already. m j, g f. to find the remaining points n o, p q draw the lines m n; j o; g p and f q making the angles n m j; o j m; p g f and q f g the same as the angle b d c in fig. . now saw and chisel out carefully n o m j l k and p q g f i h making what joiners call mortices. in repeating this process upon the other runners remember to have the narrower end of these dovetails inside the sledge. the arrangement will be as in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] the next thing is to connect your four runners with cross bars (fig. ) which are each fourteen inches long, two and a half inches broad, and one inch thick. of these cross bars there are four. the distance from a to b and from c to d is one inch in each case. these ends are shaped to form what joiners call dovetails, and they should fit exactly into the mortices upon the upper edges of the runners. the black dots represent screws. one of the cross bars does not appear in fig. . the runners should be shod with iron by the blacksmith. he will need eleven-and-a-half feet of half round / inch rolled iron, divided into four, a piece for each runner. each piece will be inches long pierced for screws as in fig. . a and b are an inch from centre to centre. c is eight inches from the end, d another ten inches; e a further ten inches. f g are like a and b. take now a piece of board one foot wide, fifteen inches long and one inch thick (fig. ). find the centre by connecting b and c and a and d by straight lines. the place where they cross, e, will be the centre. this board should be placed lengthways upon the cross bars of the front portion of your sleigh and should be fixed very securely in position with long screws. it should be at a in the completed sleigh, fig. . now for the long board upon which you sit, the board that connects the two pairs of runners, the board marked b in the completed sleigh, fig. . its width is sixteen inches, its length - / feet, its thickness - / inches. it is known as the reach board and should be of seasoned pine. this board is represented in fig. . fix your compass at a and describe a semi-circle, and then at b. a and b are each seven inches from the end of the board and seven inches from the sides. by the aid of these lines you will be able to give your board rounded ends as in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] having decided which end of this board you will have forward measure underneath inches from the front extremity and at that point draw the line a b (fig. ). now take the piece of wood you spared from your runners and saw it lengthwise into two equal parts. make each part precisely as long as your reach board is wide. screw one at c d in fig. so that its outer edge is close to the line a b. the screws go through the reach board into the cross piece. in the centre of the cross piece bore a hole with a half inch bit right through cross piece and reach board, this is for the bolt. now take that other piece of runner wood and fix hinges upon it as shown in fig. . the hinges should be Ã� hinges, and should move round to their full extent each way. leaving the reach board for a few minutes we go to the pair of runners that will be at the back of the sleigh. it will be seen that we connected these with two cross pieces. it is upon the back cross piece that we have to place our piece of wood that has the hinges upon it. lay it upon the cross piece and when the two are even all round fasten the remaining flap of the hinges with screws upon this cross piece of the runners. these two cross pieces of wood will be separated only by the thickness of the hinges if the work has been deftly done. place the reach board so that the outer edge of the cross piece shall come exactly to a line we may draw now upon the under-side of the reach board five inches from its backward end as in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] fasten there the reach board to the cross piece with screws. the front pair of runners is fastened by passing a half inch bolt through the half inch hole we bored in the reach board and in the top of the front pair of runners. here you will need a few washers and a nut. each back runner should be fastened to the reach board by a loose chain as shown in the completed sleigh. foot rests of bent iron or of wood are a great advantage. place these where you need them. the sleigh is steered by means of two strong cords. fig. is merely general. some of the details do not appear there. [illustration: fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. .] $baby's sleigh.$--in fig. we have the sleigh as it looks when it is finished. to upholster it would add to our difficulties, so we will depend upon an abundance of cushions for baby's comfort. in fig we have a piece of strong board a b c d / of an inch thick, two feet long and one foot wide. from c to e is three inches, from c to g seven inches and from d to f three inches. the curve from a to g must be drawn according to the taste of the young joiner. when this side has been cut out it is easy to make the other from it. now for the backboard. in fig. a b c d we have a piece of wood fifteen inches square. the inside lines at the bottom are one and a half inches from d and c. e and f are three inches from a and b. put your compasses at i for a centre and draw the curve e f. if your compasses are not large enough a piece of pencil tied to a string will serve. the front board may be made like the lower half of the back board. nail or screw the parts together and put on a bottom that fits. inside, the seat rests on two strips, one screwed upon each side. these strips are of wood three eighths of an inch thick, an inch wide and eight inches long. the seat may be about a foot wide. the runners come next. in fig. a b c d, we have a board three quarters of an inch thick, three feet long and seven inches wide. the distance from d to e is eight inches. from a measure eight inches along the upper edge to g, then two inches to h and from h draw the line h f. draw the curve a h. f should be three inches from the line b c. from f draw a straight line to c. cut out the runner and use it as a pattern for the making of another. to connect the two runners use a couple of cross bars of hard wood each an inch and a half wide, one inch thick and a foot long. cut the ends as shown in fig. , the cuts being three quarters of an inch deep. carpenters call an arrangement of this kind a tenon. the front cross bar will connect the two runners fifteen inches from the front and the back cross bar will be fifteen inches further back than that. the method of fixing them is shown in fig. . the cuts a and b--mortices, joiners call them--are half an inch deep. having placed the tenons in the mortices fasten them there with screws. now get a board ten inches wide, half an inch thick and two feet long and screw this to the bars. if you want the runners shod with iron the blacksmith will do this for you. place now the car in position upon the runners, and bore two quarter-inch holes in the centre of the bottom, one under the seat and the other in front. make two corresponding holes in the board of the sleigh and so with two bolts and nuts secure the car to the runners. [illustration: hammock from a barrel.] $a hammock from a barrel.$--look round for a clean barrel. perhaps an apple barrel will be as easy to find as any. strip off the hoops and draw all the nails. measure three inches from the top, and three inches from the bottom of the barrel, and draw thence a line round the top and a line round the bottom of the barrel, keeping it three inches from top or bottom all the way round. upon these lines, and upon each stave, bore two holes with a brace and bit. place the holes so that they are about the same distance from each other and from the edges of the staves. if some of the staves are wider than others, each will need slightly different treatment. a stout rope should be threaded through these holes in the manner shown in the diagram. about twenty feet of rope will be sufficient. an inch or thereabouts should be left between each stave. cushions add to the comfort of this simple hammock. [illustration: hammock from a barrel.] [illustration: Ã�olian harp.] $an Ã�olian harp.$--make a shallow box of thin dry pine. the top piece should be free from knots and three-sixteenths of an inch thick. this is the sounding board. the sides and bottom of the box may be of wood one quarter of an inch in thickness. the harp should be two inches shorter than the width of the window in which you are going to place it. the width of the box itself may be ten inches, its depth two and a half inches. the ends should be of hard wood, for they have to bear the strain of the strings. in one end put studs or rings or eyes to which are fastened the wires or catgut strings. at the other end should be a corresponding row of violin pegs if you use catgut, or iron piano pins if you use wire. if you do use wire it should be of steel. in the diagram you will see the two bridges of hard wood glued diagonally across each end for the strings to rest upon. if steel wire is employed a piece of wire should run along the top of each bridge to prevent the other wires from cutting into the wood. four holes, each an inch in diameter, in the sounding board improves the harp. the tuning may be harmonics, thirds, fifths, and octaves. raise the sash of the window, and place the harp so that the wind blows across the strings. chapter xxii science for the play-hour $a home-made electrical machine.$--to make a really first-class machine of the modern type would require a good deal of mechanical skill, even supposing my readers to be the happy possessors of the necessary tools and materials; but the older type of machine--though of course not so powerful--will probably do quite well enough for most of their purposes. i will, therefore, describe one of the simplest forms of these machines, such as any one, with a little care and patience, can make for himself. the first thing to do is to get a general idea of what you are going to construct, which may be had from the illustration, and from the actual machines you may sometimes see in a shop window or in a scientific collection, like the science departments of the south kensington museum. it is the making of the cylinder machine we are going to work out, and, therefore, to begin with, the glass cylinder must be procured. this can be had from a dealer in chemical apparatus and costs only a few pence for the smaller size--about inches by inches. at the same time purchase a round glass rod, / inch diameter by inches long; a sheet or two of tinfoil, and sixpennyworth of amalgam. from a carpenter or timber-merchant you will require a base-board for the machine, say inches by inches, by inch thick, and of heavy wood; also two uprights, which are to stand on the base-board to support the cylinder. these may be inches tall, by inches by / inch. having now the principal parts of the frame, the work of fitting together can be begun by making a circular hole (centre about - / inches from the end) in one wooden upright, to take easily one of the projecting glass pieces, or pivots, at the ends of the cylinder--probably / inch diameter will do. this hole may be made with a brace and suitable bit, or failing that, with a round chisel--taking care not to split the wood. in one end of the other upright cut a slot of same width as the hole, the bottoms of both being on the same level. then rest the two glass pivots in the hole and slot, holding the uprights vertically on the base-board, when the cylinder should be quite horizontal. if it is not so, deepen the slot, or shorten either upright, as required. drill a hole through the two sides of the slot at the top, and insert a round nail to keep the pivot from having too much play. it will next be necessary to secure these supports to the board, which may be done by driving stout screws from below, together with the aid of some strong glue. if you have the skill it will be better to sink the supports / inch into the surface. the position should be such, that the cylinder is not quite over the middle of the board. (see illustrations.) next remove the cylinder by a little side working, and screw a piece of wood, - / inches by / inch by about inches, to the supports and base. this is to act as a brace to the supports, and also for holding tightening screws for the rubber. we now come to the preparation of the rubber, which is an important detail. get a wooden block - / inches by / inch and inch shorter than the cylinder. smoothe off all the corners, and glue on one long edge, a piece of thin leather (chamois will do); fold over the flat side, and then glue it again at the other long edge; double it back _loosely_, and glue again in original place. this should make a sort of bag on one side of the block, which should now be stuffed with _dry_ wool or hemp, and the two ends fastened down. a piece of black silk, about inches by inches, must be attached to the bottom edge. [illustration: front view, showing rubber seen through cylinder; conductor removed. a a supports; r rubber; b brace board; c c adjusting screws; f rubber stand.] [illustration: end view. h handle; d conductor; e glass support. rubber, silk flap and support. a home-made electrical machine.] now place the cylinder on its bearings, and press the rubber against the middle of one side, which will show what length to make the rubber stand. the thickness may be / inch, and the breadth inches; one end being screwed to the rubber block at the back, and the other resting on the base-board, but attached to the brace piece by two bolts with adjustable nuts. these you can get at an ironmonger's--thumb nuts are preferable, as they can be tightened up without pliers. as this board will be on a slope, the cushion block must be bevelled off with a chisel, so that it may rest "squarely" against the glass. the adjusting screws will enable the pressure on the glass to be regulated. be careful to see that the silk flap (attached to the bottom edge of the rubber) comes _between_ the leather and the cylinder, and then folds over the cylinder to about the middle of the opposite side. we next come to the "prime conductor," which is a piece of rounded wood, inches in diameter and inch less than the length of the cylinder. the end corners must be made round with a knife and sandpaper, so the whole surface may be quite smooth. then lay on _evenly_ with paste, a sheet of tinfoil, notching it so that it may fold nicely over the spherical ends, and take out any ridges by rubbing with the knife handle. an insulating support must be given to the conductor, as it is to hold the accumulated electric energy, and for this the glass rod above mentioned is required. make a suitable hole in one side of the conductor, and in it fix one end of the rod with cement. the other end can be fixed to the base-board in the same way; or a separate stand may be used; but before doing this, drive a horizontal row of strong pins along a side of the conductor, at right angles with the rod. these should be / inch apart, starting and finishing / inch from where the surface becomes spherical at the two ends; the heads should be cut off previously with pliers, and the external length, when driven into the wood, should not exceed / inch. now erect the conductor, and see that the rod brings it level or thereabouts with the centre line of the cylinder-side. the points should not quite touch the latter; and the silk flap must not hang down far enough to come between. there remains now but one piece of mechanism to construct--the handle. this is apt to give trouble at first, but with care may be successfully completed. a short piece of hard wood (say - / inches long), half of circular and half of square section, must be procured, and the rounded half cemented into one of the glass pivots. this must be done with good cement and both the glass and wood warmed, and cleaned first of all. be careful not to crack the glass by too rapid heating. a thin layer of cement is best, while, of course, the wooden rod ought to fit closely. the square end now projecting must be provided with a handle, the making of which will serve to pass the time during which the cement is drying. cut a square hole to fit the end in a piece of wood say / inch by - / inches by inch, which is the handle shaft. pass a bolt through the lower part and secure the handle-bobbin itself by a nut. if nothing else can be got, a cotton-reel makes a fair handle when the flanges are cut off. if the nut works loose, pinch the threads at the end of the screw, or add a "lock nut"--_i.e._ an extra nut. dry the cylinder and put a wooden stopper in the other glass pivot to keep out damp. take care to have the handle on the right-hand end of the machine when the rubber is closest to you and the conductor opposite; notice also that of the supports the _slotted_ one should now be on the _left_-hand side. all the woodwork, as well as the ends and pivots of the cylinder, and the glass rod should be painted with shellac varnish, which may generally be had ready mixed from paint merchants, or may be made at home by dissolving shellac in methylated spirits. a stick of red sealing-wax gives a more pleasing colour for the glass work if added to the shellac solution. all through the construction of the machine must be borne in mind the fact that rough edges or points "attract" away the electricity, and, therefore, all the edges and corners must be well rounded off and smoothed with sandpaper, and everything must be kept clean and free from dust. when the shellac is dry, let all the parts, especially the rubber, cylinder, and rod, have a good warming before the fire. then fixing the cylinder in its place, press the rubber firmly against it by means of the adjusting screws. after turning for a few minutes, the handle should become stiffer, and a small spark be obtained on touching the conductor. if not, tighten up the screws a little more. it is also advisable to lay a little amalgam with tallow on the rubber, _between_ the silk and the leather: a piece of tinfoil is also said to be of advantage when amalgam is not handy. sometimes, too, a wire connection from the back of the cushion to a neighbouring gas or water pipe helps the success of the machine, but if proper attention be paid to warming and cleaning and the avoiding of edges and corners, success is almost certain after a short time. a delicate test is to observe whether a thread is attracted by the conductor, and if so, a spark may be soon looked for. an iron clamp or two will be found of great assistance for holding down the base-board to the corner of a table. $the indestructible candles.$--when a candle burns, the matter of which the candle is composed, is not lost nor destroyed. it is simply changing its form, and every part of it may be accounted for. if we take a cold clean tumbler and hold it over the flame of the candle (fig. ) we shall see that the inside becomes moist with water, and on touching it our fingers are made wet. on the tumbler becoming warm, this moisture disappears. if we could surround the tumbler with an ice jacket, we should see the water from the flame of the candle dripping down, and if this were caught in a vessel we could obtain from an ordinary candle about a wine-glassful of water. we may therefore produce water from a burning candle. the cause of the water being formed is that there is in the fat of the candle, as one of its constituents, hydrogen, and as the candle burns, this unites with the oxygen of the air to form water. wherever water is found it always consists of hydrogen and oxygen in combination, and of nothing else. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $presence of hydrogen proved.$--we may prove the presence of hydrogen gas by bringing a lighted taper within two or three inches of the wick of a candle just after it has been extinguished. on holding the lighted taper in the stream of smoke coming from the wick, we shall see a tiny flame run down the smoke and re-light the candle. the hydrogen gas coming from the hot fat is being carried off in the smoke. it is very inflammable, and the flame from the taper ignites it, and in turn rekindles the candle. when the stream of smoke has ceased, it does not matter how near we hold the taper to the wick without actually touching, it will not be re-lighted. (see fig. .) $the hydrogen located.$--a still better way of showing the presence of this gas is by bending a piece of glass tubing of small-bore, into the shape shown in fig. . glass tubing may be bent easily to any shape by holding it in the flame of an ordinary gas burner. the tube becomes covered with soot, and this prevents its getting hot too rapidly, and so enables the tube to bend easily and evenly. the bending must never be forced, but very gently done as the glass softens. (see fig. .) a little practice will enable any boy to make a first-rate bend. on carefully observing the flame of the candle we shall see that it really consists of three distinct parts. round the wick it looks black, this is really a hollow chamber filled with unconsumed hydrogen. next to this is a bright luminous cone, and outside of that is an almost invisible covering of blue flame. in the black space gas is unconsumed, in the luminous part the combustion is only partial, but outside of all, where there is most oxygen, the combustion is complete, and the flame can hardly be discovered. now when the flame is quite steady the tube must be gently inserted at an angle into the black cone; after a few minutes, on applying a light at the end of the tube, although the candle is still burning, we shall see that this free hydrogen will burn there too with a small bluish flame. $the candle's carbon.$--as the candle burns, another part of its constituents is passing off into the air as soot or carbon, and this can be shown by holding a sheet of white paper or cardboard in the top of the flame, or better still, a cold saucer, on which there will be a copious deposit of black soot. this is another proof that as a candle burns it is not destroying matter, but only changing its form; from the white fat of the candle, black sooty carbon is liberated by the process of incomplete combustion that is going on. (see fig. .) $carbonic acid gas.$--when substances containing carbon are burnt, one of the products is an invisible gas, commonly called carbonic acid gas. after an explosion in a mine, all the workings are filled with a deadly gas, which often kills more men than the explosion. this is called choke damp, and is the same as carbonic acid gas. whenever a fire burns--gas, lamp, coal fire, or candle, this gas is one of the products. let us fasten a piece of wire round our candle, and, after lighting it, lower it down into a glass bottle with a wide mouth. at first the candle burns dimly, and then, when a current of air is established, brightens. now cover the mouth of the jar with a piece of card or the hand, and we shall see that the candle again burns dimly and quickly goes out. the jar now contains a considerable quantity of this carbonic acid gas. we may prove its presence by pouring into the jar a little clear lime-water and shaking it up. the carbonic acid gas will turn the lime-water milky. (see fig. .) lime-water can be purchased at any chemist's very cheaply, or it can be made by pouring water on a piece of quicklime, well shaking it, and then allowing it to settle. the clear lime-water may then be poured off. the lime may be used again and again until it is all dissolved. $our use of oxygen.$--we are breathing out carbonic acid gas; and on breathing through a piece of glass tubing into some of the clear lime-water we shall see that it will be turned milky in just the same way as when the candle burned. we are using up oxygen to support life, the candle uses up oxygen to support life, and in both cases the product is carbonic acid gas, as we have proved by means of the lime-water test. (see fig. .) $convincing proof.$--all that we have done up to the present supports our statement that the matter of the candle is not destroyed. in fact we have accounted for all its parts excepting that of a little mineral ash which will be left after the candle has burned away. we may, however, show in a very convincing way that our contention is true. an ordinary gas chimney is obtained, and at about three inches from one end a piece of wire gauze is placed, and the open end filled up with quicklime, at the lower end a cork is fixed upon which a short piece of candle is placed. there must also be a hole in the cork for the admission of air; when all is ready, carefully counterpoise the scales. then remove the cork and light the candle and quickly replace. after burning a short time it will be found that the chimney glass bears down the beam because of increased weight. the products of the burning candle have united with the oxygen of the air, and these products, consisting chiefly of carbonic acid gas and water, have been caught by the quicklime. because of the added oxygen they are heavier than the original candle. (see fig. .) $capillary attraction.$--there is still one interesting thing to illustrate about the burning candle, and that is the way in which the particles of fat ascend the wick to reach the flame. this is accomplished by what is known as capillary attraction. a very good illustration of this is afforded by a piece of salt standing upon a plate, on which is poured some salt water coloured blue with indigo or ink. the liquid will rise up the pillar of salt, and eventually reach the top. it rises by the force of capillary attraction. let the pillar of salt represent the wick of the candle, and the coloured water, the fat, and the illustration is complete. $analysis of candle flame.$--our candle can still give us some useful and suggestive illustrations of flame and combustion. we have seen that unconsumed gaseous vapours can be obtained from the flame by means of a bent glass tube. in the candle flame (fig. ) we see that this is because of the way the flame is built. the part marked _o_ is the gaseous chamber, _i_ is the luminous part, and _e_ is where combustion is complete. on taking a sheet of clean white paper and pressing it down on the candle flame for a moment or two we shall get the fact of this hollow chamber demonstrated by the smoke ring upon the paper, which will appear thus-- the paper is left clean at the hollow chamber, but marked with smoke at the luminous part of the flame. (see fig. .) [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] now we must find the differences between the non-luminous outer flame and the luminous inner flame. to do this thoroughly we must have a bunsen burner to afford the best illustration. this is not an expensive item. a cheap and simple form of it can be obtained for s. d. to understand the nature of the flame we must first understand the principles of the bunsen. it is a burner in which a mixture of air and gas is consumed. a is a brass tube, mounted on a solid foot k, with a small tube c to admit the gas. there are two holes at the bottom of the brass tube to admit air in the direction of the arrows, and a movable brass collar fits over these holes, so that the air can be admitted or excluded at will. on igniting the gas, with the holes of the bunsen open, we shall see that it burns with a non-luminous but exceedingly hot flame. on closing the holes we shall notice that the flame becomes luminous, much more languid, and does not give off nearly so much heat. (see fig. .) we must ask ourselves the question, what is the cause of this difference? the answer is a simple but very instructive one. coal-gas, like the fat of the candle, contains carbon, and in the luminous flame, owing to the limited supply of oxygen, these particles of carbon are made white hot, and so emit light, but are not entirely consumed till they reach the outer edge of the flame, where combustion is more complete, owing to the contact of the flame with the air, and even then many of them escape; and so where gas is burnt the ceilings after a time become blackened. in the non-luminous flame, owing to the air being admitted and mixed with the gas, the increased supply of oxygen renders combustion more complete, greatly increases the heat of the flame, but renders it incapable of giving light. now, the reasons for the differences of the two flames are made clear. a very clever modification of this principle has been utilised in what is known as the argand burner, in which the gas and air are not mixed as in a bunsen, but the burner is made circular, and the air is made to pass up the centre of the flame, so that it gets its supply of oxygen, burns steadily, and presents a very large surface of luminous flame. (see fig. .) $a pretty experiment.$--let us now go back to our candle flame. we see that it gives light, emits smoke, and does not yield a very large amount of heat. we have learnt that it gives light because the particles of carbon are heated to a white heat, but not entirely consumed. these particles in the flame are held very closely together, and so present a continuous surface. if we could get inside the flame and scatter them we should have a pretty shower of glowing sparks. we can illustrate this by the following experiment. take as much gunpowder as will rest on a sixpence, and a like quantity of iron filings, mix them together on a small tin dish. (see fig. .) this must be done carefully and without friction. then ignite with a taper. the gunpowder burns, makes the particles of iron red hot, and scatters them in a beautiful shower of glowing sparks. this is a fair representation of pulling a candle flame to pieces, the only difference is that the glowing particles are of iron instead of carbon. $artificial lightning.$--this may be further illustrated by putting a flame together. we may accomplish this by passing any very fine particles of carbonaceous matter through a non-luminous flame, and we shall see that whilst these particles pass through the flame it will give light owing to their presence. we require a little lycopodium, a piece of glass tubing one foot long, and about a quarter-inch bore, and the non-luminous flame of the bunsen burner or a spirit lamp. insert into one end of the tube a little of the lycopodium powder, and then, pea-shooter fashion, apply the mouth to the other end of the tube, and blow the contents into the flame. there will be a great flash of light whilst these infinitely small particles are passing through the flame, thus establishing the fact that luminosity is due to the presence of unconsumed solid matter in the flame. this experiment is sometimes called "making artificial lightning," and in a dark room it is very effective. (see fig. .) $flames that laugh.$--what makes the candle flame burn steadily is the next problem before us, and we shall see that it is very simple and at the same time most philosophical. it tells us the reason why candles are made round, and not square. the section of a candle being circular, with the wick in the centre, it can, as it burns, get its supply of oxygen from all directions at an equal distance; thus it burns regularly and steadily. if the candle were square, the four corners being at a greater distance from the wick than the sides, we should have four columns of fat standing up at the corners, and as the air rushed in to feed the flame it would come into contact with these, and so the current would be broken and the flame would become unsteady. we can show this by placing some cotton wool on tin dishes, and saturating it with methylated spirits and igniting it. this will give us what are known as laughing flames, because they burn so unsteadily. the air rushing in to feed the flame comes into contact with the wool, which impedes it, and so the flame has a dancing or laughing appearance. this experiment may be made very pretty by rendering the flames coloured. to do this add to the cotton wool, before pouring on the methylated spirit, chloride of copper; this will give a green flame; to another, chloride of strontium; this will colour the flame red; to another, common salt; this will give a yellow coloration. all these should be shown in a dark room. $the importance of oxygen.$--by previous experiment we have seen that oxygen is necessary to a flame, and our ingenious readers may now make a piece of apparatus to prove this. (see fig. .) it consists of two pieces of glass tube standing upright near the two ends of a board, in which there is a covered channel communicating with the two. a small candle is lighted and placed in one of the tubes. the air heated by the flame rises in the tube and causes a corresponding descent of cold air down the other tube. this gives us a good illustration of ventilation produced by artificial heat. so great is the down draught, that if we hold a lighted taper over the mouth of the cold tube the smoke and the flame will be carried down, with the result that the candle is soon extinguished. the reason for this is that the smoke and burnt air from the taper contain insufficient oxygen to feed the candle flame, and it dies. to make this apparatus, obtain a piece of deal board about ten inches long and four inches wide, cut along the middle a groove about three quarters of an inch deep, and about the same width, leaving about half an inch at each end uncut. cover this groove with a tightly-fitting slip. over the two ends of the groove are fastened two small blocks of cork pierced with apertures, into which fit the vertical glass tubes; these should be about ten inches high and about three-quarters of an inch bore. fig. , which is a section of one end of the apparatus, shows how a small candle like those used on christmas trees is held erect by a wooden socket at the end of the groove so as not to impede the current of fresh air. $rates of combustion.$--we must remember that all things do not burn at the same rate. iron rust is a product of very slow combustion. in using up food to maintain the heat of the body, combustion goes on more quickly than in rusting iron, the candle burns more quickly still, gas still faster, the bunsen burner faster still. we may get an idea of the different rates of combustion by the two following experiments. on a tin dish place half a thimbleful of gunpowder and lay on it a tiny piece of gun-cotton. ignite the gun-cotton; it burns so fast that it has no time to set fire to the gunpowder, which may now be ignited in its turn by the taper. another example is the laying of two long trains of gunpowder, one fine grain and the other coarse. it will be found that the two flames travel at very different rates along the same path. $the egg and bottle trick.$--an ordinary water-bottle, a hard-boiled egg, divested of its shell, and a piece of thin paper are all that is requisite. how can we make this egg get inside the bottle? light the paper, quickly thrust it into the bottle, and immediately place the egg over the mouth of the bottle, gently pressing it closely down to the glass. the burning paper consumes some of the air, a partial vacuum is formed, and air pressure will force the egg into the bottle with a loud detonation. (see fig. .) $making water boil by means of coldness.$--heat some water to boiling in a glass flask over a spirit lamp. after the water has boiled for a minute or two, quickly insert a well-fitting cork, and remove the flask from the flame. wrap a duster or towel round the neck of the flask, and, holding it over a basin (in case of breakage), pour gently a stream of cold water on to the flask. the steam inside is condensed, a partial vacuum is formed, and as long as any heat remains in the water, it will boil, whilst the stream of cold water is continued on the outside. when ebullition no longer occurs, it will be found that the cork is held in so tightly by air pressure that it is very difficult to draw it. (see fig. .) $fire designs.$--this is very simple, amusing, and effective. make a saturated solution of nitrate of potash (common nitre or saltpetre), by dissolving the substance in warm water, until no more will dissolve; then draw with a smooth stick of wood any design or wording on sheets of white tissue paper, let it thoroughly dry, and the drawing will become invisible. by means of a spark from a smouldering match ignite the potassium nitrate at any part of the drawing, first laying the paper on a plate or tray in a darkened room. the fire will smoulder along the line of the invisible drawing until the design is complete. (see fig. .) $the magic wine glass.$--the holding of a wine-glass to a substance mouth upwards without its falling off, may be accomplished thus. obtain a wine-glass with a very even edge (this may be done by grinding on a flat stone), a square of blotting-paper, and a piece of glass. about half fill the glass with water, place upon its rim the blotting paper, and then the piece of glass. whilst pressing them closely down invert the glass. the blotting-paper absorbs some of the water, a partial vacuum is formed, and on holding the sheet of glass, the wine-glass will remain suspended, being held on by atmospheric pressure. (see fig. .) [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $the floating needle.$--the idea of making a needle float upon water at first sight seems an impossibility but it can be done, and that with comparative ease. take a fine needle, and rub the fingers over it gently to grease it. now lay it very carefully on a piece of thin tissue paper on the surface of the water, as shown. presently the paper will sink, and leave the needle floating on the water. the thin coating of grease serves to protect the needle from actual contact with the water, and thus enables it to float. (see fig. .) $a glass of water turned upside down.$--a tumbler is filled with water, a piece of paper laid on, and the surface and the tumbler deftly inverted, the atmospheric pressure being unable to enter the glass, the water is kept in, so long as the paper holds. the effect of the experiment is very greatly increased, if, instead of using paper, a piece of thin mica, cut to the size of the glass, is used. the audience cannot then discover what prevents the water from running out. any gasfitter will supply a piece of mica. $the inexhaustible bottle.$--this wonderful bottle, from which five separate liquids can be poured, owes its marvellous qualities to the application of the simple law of atmospheric pressure. it is made of tin, and encloses five internal cylinders, each of which has a tube from the upper end running into the neck of the bottle, and another tube from the lower end opening into the side. the cylinders are filled with different liquids--water, milk, tea, coffee, lemonade. whilst the fingers are kept over the holes the bottle may be inverted, and nothing will run out. on opening the holes one by one the liquid may be poured out, according to the wishes of the audience, and greatly to their astonishment. (see fig. .) $the magic writing.$--fill a deep tumbler with water, and add a few crystals of iodide of potassium and a few drops of sulphuric acid. the liquid will remain perfectly clear like water. on some strips of white cardboard write various names with starch paste; when dry these will be invisible. on dipping the cardboard into the liquid the name will appear in blue writing, owing to the formation of starch iodide, which is blue. by previously preparing the names of those present at the experiment, by a little manipulation you can, to the astonishment of the audience, produce any name called for. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $producing smoke at will.$--two glass cylinders are the best for this, but ordinary tumblers will do. with a separate feather make the inside of each tumbler quite wet, one with hydrochloric acid, and the other with liquid ammonia. both glasses appear to be quite empty, and nothing occurs. but on bringing the mouths of the two vessels together, a thick white smoke is at once developed. the hydrochloric acid gas and the ammonia gas unite chemically, and form the solid white powder known as sal-ammoniac. (see fig. .) $a novel fountain.$--this is a pretty experiment, and owes its action to the fact that ammonia gas is very soluble in water. in a basin place some water. fit up a flask with a small-bore glass tube, about eighteen inches long, as shown. the end entering the flask should be drawn out so that there is only a small opening. in the flask place about a teaspoonful of liquid ammonia, and heat it over a spirit lamp. as soon as the liquid boils a large amount of ammonia gas is disengaged, and fills the flask and the tube. now close the tube by means of the finger, and invert the flask over the basin of water. when the end of the tube is under the water remove your finger, and then, as the water dissolves the gas, it will rise in the tube, and will presently play into the flask like a fountain until the flask is full. (see fig. .) $to boil water in a paper bag.$--"here is a sheet of note-paper; can you boil me a little water in it?" this would appear to be a thorough puzzler, yet it is exceedingly easy to do. fold a piece of paper so that it will hold water, now suspend it above the flame of a lamp. the water will so readily take up all the heat that there is none left with which to burn the paper, and presently it will bubble and give off steam. (see fig. .) $illuminated water.$--wet a lump of loaf sugar with phosphorized ether, and throw it into a basin of water in a dark room. the surface of the water will become luminous. blow on the water, and you will have phosphorescent waves, and the air, too, will be illuminated. in winter the water should be warmed a little. if the phosphorized ether be applied to the hand or to other warm bodies these will become luminous. the ether will not injure the hand. $brilliant crystals.$--spread upon a plate of glass or upon a smooth slate, a few drops of nitrate of silver, previously diluted with double its quantity of soft water. place at the bottom of it, flat upon the glass, and in contact with the fluid, a copper or zinc wire, bent to any figure, and let the whole remain undisturbed in a horizontal position. in a few hours a brilliant crystallization of metallic silver will make its appearance around the wire upon the glass, and this arrangement of crystals will extend gradually till the whole quantity of fluid has been acted on by the wire. $a well of fire.$--add gradually one ounce, by measure, of sulphuric acid, to five or six ounces of water in an earthenware basin; and add to it also, gradually, about three quarters of an ounce of granulated zinc. a rapid production of hydrogen gas will instantly take place. then add, from time to time, a few pieces of phosphorus of the size of a pea. a multitude of gas bubbles will be produced, which will fire on the surface of the effervescing liquid; the whole surface of the liquid will become luminous, and fire balls, with jets of fire, will dart from the bottom through the fluid with great rapidity and a hissing noise. $the writing on the wall.$--take a piece of phosphorus from the bottle in which it is kept, and, while the room is lighted write upon a whitewashed wall any word or sentence, or draw any object. now put out the light, and the writing will appear in illuminated letters. care must be taken to dip the pencil of phosphorus in cold water frequently while you are using it. otherwise it will burn. $to make a ghost.$--put one part of phosphorus into six of olive oil, and let it dissolve in a slightly warm place. shut your eyes tightly and rub the mixture upon your face. in the dark your face will be luminous, your eyes and mouth like dark spots. altogether you will have a very ghastly appearance. there is no danger in the experiment, and the effect might be useful in charades or home theatricals. $a seeming conflagration.$--take half an ounce of sal-ammoniac, one ounce of camphor, and two ounces of aqua vitae. put them into an earthen vessel that is small at the top. set fire to the contents, and the room will seem to be on fire. $three haloes.$--one of the pleasing experiments of dr. brewster was to take a saturated solution of alum, and having spread a few drops of it over a plate of glass, it will crystallize rapidly though the crystals are so small you may scarcely see them. when this plate of glass is held between you and the sun or artificial light, with the eyes very near to the smooth side of the glass, there will be seen three beautiful haloes of light. $beautiful crystals.$--pour three ounces of diluted nitric acid into a glass vessel, and add gradually to it two ounces of bismuth, broken by a hammer into small pieces. the metal will be attacked with great energy, and nitrate of bismuth will be formed. crystallize the solution by a gentle heat, and preserve the crystals, which possess great beauty, under a glass. $the centre of gravity.$--a shilling may be made to balance on the point of a needle with very simple apparatus. put a bottle on the table with a cork in its neck; into the cork stick a middle-sized needle in an upright position. in another cork cut a slit, and insert the shilling, then into this cork stick a couple of forks, one on each side, with the handles inclining outwards. now poise the rim of the shilling upon the point of the needle, and it will rotate without falling. so long as the centre of gravity is kept within the points of support of a body it cannot fall. the balancing shilling may be transposed to the edge of a bottle, and it will still perform, even as the bottle is being tilted. $what a vacuum can do.$--take a new or nearly new penny and rub it briskly upon your coat sleeve until it is warm. then slide it up and down upon a door panel, pressing it closely to the wood. now hold it in one place for a few seconds and you will find it will stick there, because between the penny and the surface of the door there is a layer of air which was slightly heated. as it became cool a partial vacuum was formed, and the pressure of the outer air held the penny to the door. $an experiment in leverage.$--it would seem almost impossible that a column of iron or a plank or a spar of any kind could be so placed that one end of the spar needs support only, whilst the other end would extend from, say the edge of a precipice, horizontally into space; but that such can be done is very easily demonstrated, by very simple materials almost always at hand. by adopting the principle we may easily perform an interesting scientific parlour experiment, which always causes difficulty to the non-studious section of humanity, until the apparent mystery is explained. in illustrating this experiment the prongs of two ordinary table forks are fastened together, one over the other--net fashion--thus causing the handles of the forks to form the termini of an angle of about degrees. now take an ordinary lucifer match and place one end between the network of the prongs firmly. then place the other end of the match upon the edge of an elevation, such as a tumbler or cup, when the match, acting as a lever, with the forks giving a hundred or a thousand times additional weight to the lever, will rest (or apparently float in the air) without further support. ask your friends to try the experiment, after placing the materials before them, and find how many can perform it without guidance. $coloured fires.$--it is perilous to make some coloured fires, especially those in which there is sulphur, and even if they do not explode their fumes are harmful, so that their use in the house for charades or other home purposes is objectionable and at times positively dangerous. we give, however, a number of coloured fires that are free from these drawbacks, though all the same it is wiser to reduce the ingredients to powder quite separately before they are mixed, and if a pestle and mortar are used all traces of one powder should be removed before another is introduced. each ingredient should be reduced to a fine powder. red fire. parts. strontia shellac chlorate of potash charcoal green fire. nitrate of barytes shellac calomel (chloride of mercury) chlorate of potash green fire. nitrate of barytes shellac chlorate of potash charcoal blue fire. parts. chlorate of potash salpetre ammonia sulphate of copper arsenite of copper shellac blue fire. ammonia sulphate of copper chlorate of potash shellac charcoal red fire. nitrate of strontia shellac chlorate of potash - / charcoal chapter xxiii home-made toys it may be that some of these toys would amuse only little boys, but we have included them because our directions will enable older boys to entertain their little sisters and brothers. $how to make fire balloons.$--you will require for materials, tissue paper, which may be all white, or varied in colour. a balloon of white and red gores alternately is perhaps the best, as it may be used day or night; and as the balloon is constantly turning when it is in the air, the stripes add to the effect. then again there are conditions of the clouds and atmosphere when a white balloon ascending by daylight would be scarcely visible, and for parachute purposes a daylight ascent is desirable. tissue paper, then, paste, bonnet wire or cane, finer wire; some tow, cotton wool, or common sponge, or better than all, some round lamp-cotton, and methylated spirit or tallow, as fuel for your furnace. the shaping of the gores which are to form your balloon must be your first consideration. you will find it advisable not to go in for overgrown balloons. they are far more troublesome to build, and to manage when they are built, and are little if any more effective than those of moderate dimensions. about four feet in height is the size which produces the best results, and in making it one is neither cramped for room, nor are the gores of unmanageable proportions. twelve or fourteen gores, if you use two colours, or thirteen if you confine yourself to one, will be needed; and it will be wise not to attempt to emulate the graceful pear-shape of the ordinary passenger _gas_ balloon, but to aim at something approaching much nearer to a ball in form. the pear-shaped balloon would take fire to a certainty. fig. is an example of the unsafe form which is to be avoided; fig. is a perfectly safe model. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fire balloons.] a piece of common cardboard or stout brown paper, six feet in length and a foot in width, will serve for a pattern gore. fold it exactly in half lengthwise, and then mark off each foot, beginning at the bottom (fig. ). at _a_ measure off horizontally inches; at _b_, which is the first foot, - / inches; at _c_, inches; at a point inches above _d_, the third foot, measure off inches; at _e_ - / inches, marking each point. then connect the points by as graceful a curve as may be, and cut through the line thus obtained, unfold the pattern, and you have your standard gore. sufficient tissue paper should have been pasted together by the narrow edges from which to cut the , , or lengths of feet each. the sheets should now be placed one upon the other, and the pattern being opened out and laid upon the top, the whole of the gores may be cut at one operation. fold a gore in half lengthwise and lay it upon your table or the floor, and upon this place a second about half an inch within the margin of the first (fig. ). with a stiff brush--sable is the best--paste the protruding edge of the lower gore, turn it over the edge of the upper and smooth it down with a duster. if you have a warm flat-iron by your side, and laying a piece of flannel or cloth over the join, you run the iron carefully along, the paste will dry at once and all fear of puckering or displacement will be obviated. fold the upper gore lengthwise as you did the lower, and proceed in the same way with the remainder of the gores until the whole have been pasted (fig. ). if your balloon is a very big one it will be advisable to lay a string inside each seam as you paste it, leaving the ends long enough to tie round the hoop which is to go at the bottom or neck of your balloon. a piece of bonnet wire or split cane feet long, bent to a circle, will form this hoop, and this must now be pasted at the bottom, and the neck _may_ be strengthened by pasting inside a strip of stouter paper, such as foolscap or cartridge, snicked with the scissors so that it may take the right shape readily. now a circular piece of stronger paper, "curl" paper for instance, about inches or a foot across, should be pasted over the top to cover the hole where the points of the gores approach each other, and to this should be pasted a piece of yet stronger paper, writing paper for instance, to form the loop by which the balloon is to be supported during the process of inflation. the handle of a saucepan-lid should be the model to be followed. this is the method to be adopted if you want to produce a balloon of a shape which will bear criticism, but if you are not particular in this respect, a rough and ready gore may be made by a much simpler process. you have only to take four sheets of tissue paper and paste them together by the narrow edges. then trim off the two outside sheets as shown in fig. , and from the pieces so trimmed off, add a small piece at the top a, and there is your pattern gore in a little less than no time. you can then paste several together as already directed, arranging the number as you wish your balloon to be pudgy and safe, or lanky and dangerous. the next thing is to provide the means of ascension. [illustration: fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. .] lamp cotton is the best material for the wick, though any of the other substances already mentioned may be used if this is not come-at-able. it may be saturated with methylated spirit, or, if the material is easily accessible, melted tallow. in the latter case the wick should then be sprinkled with turpentine that it may catch fire readily. the tallow gives the best light, and lasts the longest. two pieces of thin wire should be attached to the hoop as shown in fig. , w w, and your ball of lamp-wick is to be placed in the centre, l w. the placing of the wick is the last operation, but of course, it will have been prepared beforehand. it is simply a loosely rolled ball of lamp-cotton through which a piece of fine wire has been passed and the ends formed into hooks (fig. ). the size of the ball must be governed by the dimensions of the balloon and by your ambition as to the height to which it is to rise. the wick may easily be made large enough to carry the balloon out of sight altogether, especially if tallow be used. in this case the wick should have been saturated with melted tallow beforehand, but where methylated spirit is used the proceedings must be delayed till the moment of ascension. with a fan--a folded newspaper will do as well as anything--fan the balloon full of air to start with. then your assistant must elevate the balloon to the right height by the aid of a smooth stick inserted in the loop, and he must stand on something to raise him to the right level. now the air in the inflated balloon must be warmed by holding beneath it a paper torch, care being taken that no flame touches the balloon, or it will be shrivelled up by the fire in a moment and your labour wasted. another assistant meanwhile should have been looking after the methylated spirit--if you use the tallow you can do without him. the spirit should be kept in a closely corked bottle and as far from your paper torch as possible. when the balloon begins to try to rise give the word to assistant no. , who will pour some of the spirit into the jam-pot in which the wick is lying, wait till it is saturated, and then, taking it from the jam-pot, run with it to the balloon and attach it to the cross wire by the hooks. directly it is in position, give the word to assistant no. to let go; touch the wick with a light, and up will sail the balloon into the air. a windy day should, naturally, be avoided, or your balloon is not likely to proceed far on its journey in safety. but a good deal more is to be got out of a fire balloon than a mere ascension, and even the mere ascension may be improved. you may, for instance, attach a car to the balloon (fig. ) and a couple of figures a a--it matters little how rough they are--will, very shortly after the liberation of the balloon, look so natural that the balloon will be taken for the real thing. when it has mounted but a little distance there is nothing by which its size may be compared, and if netting is imitated by lines drawn with a pen and ink, the illusion will be yet more complete. the car may be made of a square of writing paper with the four edges folded over equally all round. the corners should then be pinched together, folded over as in the illustration, and secured with a little paste. a parachute may be dropped "from the clouds." this may be simply a square of paper with a string at each corner and a figure hanging on at the ends (fig. ). the figure may be as rough as you like, detail would be lost. or, two squares of paper may be used, the strings being crossed over the lower and kept in place by the upper, which should be pasted upon it (fig. ). a more elaborate parachute may be made by folding a square of paper from corner to corner into a triangle. this should be folded again and once again from corner to corner when it will take the shape of fig. . a cut through the dotted line and a couple of holes pierced at the dots will give, when opened out, fig. ; and a string passed through each hole and made to carry a car will give the complete parachute (fig. ). a piece of cotton or twine should be passed through the parachute to attach it to the balloon. then a piece of wire should be twisted and bent, as in fig. , _w_. fasten to this with thin wire a piece of time-fuse, _t f_, turned up as shown, and to the bend _b_ attach the cotton. at the moment of ascension, light the top end of the fuse at _a_, and when it has burned to _b_ the parachute will be liberated. fireworks may be lighted in the same way. you will need time-fuse, quickmatch, and such fireworks as you prefer. blue lights, squibs, and fireworks of that description should be arranged as in fig. . here _c_ is a cork or bung with holes bored in it for the insertion of the fireworks _f f f f_. _q_ is the quickmatch which is to light them simultaneously when the time-fuse, _t f_, has burnt far enough. a catherine wheel may be pinned at the bottom of the cork and connected with the quickmatch, or the pin may be dispensed with, when it will whizz through the darkness in grand style. one of the most successful effects may be obtained with the balls or stars from roman candles. you can, of course, pull the candles to pieces, but a better plan is to buy the balls at d. a dozen. bend a piece of wire into a circle (fig. ) and take two wires across at a right angle. then place the balls, one by one, in pieces of tissue paper and cover them with meal powder and tie up the ends (fig. ), fastening them on the wire, as shown in fig. . a piece of time-fuse, or quickmatch, _q_, as you want the stars to drop singly or in a shower, must next be passed through each ball packet and connected with lighted time-fuse. of course the fireworks should hang some distance below the balloon. crackers or maroons may be arranged as in figs. and , and many other devices invented. your balloon may also carry up a piece of magnesium wire with which the country may be lighted up, or it may take up a chinese lantern--in fact there is no end to the fun which may be got out of it. you will find it difficult, however, to get an effect to beat the roman candle balls. quickmatch costs d. or d. a six-feet length, according to the thickness required; time-fuse one penny an inch. $bubble balloons.$--one reason for the short life of the bubble as usually blown is the excessive evaporation which takes place from the large surface presented to the air. as this evaporation of the fluid goes on, the film gets thinner, the tension gets more acute, accompanied by ever changing and brightening hues of colour, until the thin walls can no longer bear the strain, and the bubble bursts into fine spray. another, perhaps, more powerful reason is the unequal strength of the walls, due to the drainage of the moisture from the upper parts of the bubble into the lower parts by its own weight. this produces a weak and thin area, denoted by the refraction of the blue rays of light in the top of the bubble, and it cannot resist the pressure from within. there are two ways of prolonging the life of a bubble. when the breath is first driven into the liquid, the force used is sufficient to send the fluid surging in all directions, and the film is fairly well nourished. presently as the soapy water dipped out by the bowl of the pipe gets distributed over the walls of the bubble and it increases in size, this no longer acts, and drainage from the top at once sets in. if the blowing is now continued, the end so much the more quickly approaches. to enable you to continue enlarging the bubble and lengthen its life, feed it. this may be done readily and safely, by dipping a camel-hair brush in the soapy emulsion and, letting it touch the bubble at the top, when the fluid will stream down over the surface, thickening the film, and permitting you to get a bubble as big as your hat. this is only a temporary expedient, a flank movement, and merely defers the end by a minute or two. to attack the difficulty with more success, change the mixture. shred some castile soap, which may be purchased by the pennyworth at the chemist's, and beat up in the usual way with water; you will find that much more can be done with this preparation than the usual household soap. if your aim is merely to produce an overgrown, sagging, wobbling bubble, feed with a brush as above. for further experiments do not blow large unmanageable ones, but an ordinary sized bubble blown in this liquid will enable you to show its toughness, length of life, and other qualities. if your coat is made of a woollen fabric, release some bubbles on the shoulder; they will roll down the sleeve and tumble off to the floor, if they do not meet with any cotton fabric on the way; this is due to the repulsion which exists between wool and the watery film, doubtless due to the presence of fat in some form upon the fibres. while upon the sleeve they may be carried about the room, or passed from one person to another. this repulsion may be further utilized, too, and the bubble treated as a shuttlecock. to do this, procure the ordinary wooden bat used by your sister for the game of bat and shuttlecock. cover it with a piece of flannel, fine or coarse will do. then blow a bubble not too large, so that the film shall be robust and heavy. such is the toughness of the skin of the bubble, and the repulsion of the woollen surface to the soapy film, that it may be batted nearly two hundred times before the collapse takes place. by striking it on the side and getting some work into the bubble, it revolves slowly and the drainage from the upper part is counteracted. two or more can play thus with the glittering ball, passing it on, or a ring of players may be formed and a stream of bubbles passed round from one member to another. another form of the game is the keeping up a number of bubbles by the same bat. as the bubbles are very light they fall slowly, and six or eight may be kept up by the player. by having two bats, one in each hand, this becomes a game of considerable skill, and will tax the concentrated attention of the player to the utmost. now cut some circular discs out of note-paper about the size of a sixpence, larger rather than smaller. get a reel of fine white cotton, and pass the end of the thread through the centre of the disc. tie a knot in the cotton, so that it cannot readily be pulled through the hole. then dip the disc in the mixture till the paper is wet. blow your bubble, and before you release it from the pipe bowl, place the dripping disc of paper on the side of the bubble by dangling it from your right hand by the cotton. when it is in complete contact, a slight turn of the wrist releases the bubble from the pipe, and you will find that you have it attached to the paper disc, which in the meantime has sunk to the lowest part of the bubble. it can now be carried about by means of the disc. there is so much carbon dioxide in the breath that bubbles blown in this way have very little power of rising, as the difference in the heat of the breath does not sufficiently counterbalance the heavier weight of the expired air. by attaching a piece of india-rubber tubing to the stem of the pipe and gas burner, you can get a supply of lighter gas which will make the bubble into a balloon. having effected this arrangement, dip the pipe in the mixture and turn on the gas. feed the top of the bubble with more fluid, and when it has reached a size which satisfies you, attach the paper disc as before. it will be an easy task to detach the bubble, which will rise towards the ceiling, until the weight of the thread counterbalances the buoyancy of the gas. it will probably rise to the ceiling, where it is quite safe, as a cushion of air will prevent the bubble striking the surface. instead of the long thread, make out of the thinnest and lightest paper you can get, a small car, attach cotton to the corners of the car and gather the threads together and tie them so that the car hangs level. attach this to the cotton which bears the paper disc, and connect the disc with the bubble as before, wetting only the disc. you will have a miniature gossamer balloon. cut out two small figures of men in paper and put inside the car. do all this before blowing the bubble. if you have a glass shade, a number of these bubbles balanced by threads may be kept for hours inside. you will find it very interesting to watch the changes of colour in the films as they get thinner through evaporation. to check this, put under the shade a wet sponge, this will moisten the air enclosed in the shade, and prolong the life of the bubbles. no great skill is required in making the above experiments, and variations of an amusing character can be made by cutting out figures of animals and men and attaching them to the disc in place of the car. if the figures are painted so much better will the trick look. to make the mixture still stronger add nearly half as much again of pure glycerine. $boxing by electricity.$--a b c is a piece of iron wire inserted in the board d e f g. cut out the boxer h in cardboard. on one side of this figure paste tinfoil bringing the tinfoil to the other side of the figure just a little at the edges. you will be able to get your tinfoil from the packages of tea, chocolate, tobacco or other source. fasten the boxer to the board with sealing-wax. now make the other boxer i in the same way and suspend him from the iron wire by means of thread. borrow a lamp glass or the chimney from the incandescent gas burner and fit a cork k into the bottom. through the cork pass a nail l. connect the nail with the boxer by means of the wire m. warm and dry the lamp chimney, and rub it with fur or silk. the boxer i will rush at boxer h, then retreat hurriedly, and this will be repeated as long as you rub the lamp chimney. men, skilled in the science of electricity, will tell you that the reason for these strange proceedings is that the rubbing of the lamp chimney produces electricity; this passes along the wire to boxer h who becomes charged with the mysterious property. this electricity attracts boxer i who goes for boxer h. when he touches he becomes charged with the same kind of electricity and is then attracted no longer but repelled, and he continues to be repelled until his electricity has drained away by the linen thread, wire and board to the earth. then he is ready for another "round." [illustration: boxing by electricity.] $a prancing horse.$--carve the figure of a horse, and having fixed a bent wire to the under part of its body, place a small ball of lead upon the end of the wire. place the hind legs of the horse upon the table, and it will prance to and fro. sometimes the figure of a man is treated in the same way and in yorkshire it used to be called a "saaging tommy," to saag being an old word meaning to saw or see-saw. [illustration: a prancing horse.] $boats made of pasteboard.$--pasteboard is not a very satisfactory material of which to construct model boats, if these are wanted to sail, but it is possible to make them. the best plan for making pasteboard waterproof is to paint it with a solution of sealing wax. to make this, take sealing wax of the colour you prefer, break it into small pieces and place it in a wide-mouthed bottle. now pour in some methylated spirits and shake occasionally until the wax is all dissolved. if too thick, add more spirit; if too thin, more wax. apply with a brush. owing to the evaporation of the spirit, this paint dries hard and glossy in an hour. [illustration: a simple top.] $a simple top.$--procure a piece of white cardboard, two inches square, and cut it into a sexagon, as shown in fig. . now bore a small hole in the middle, into which push an ordinary match. you may number the sections of the sexagon and see who scores the highest number, counting the figure resting against the table as it falls. fig. shows the top complete. [illustration: the apple or potato mill.] $the apple or potato mill.$--this is made by boring a hole in a nut, just large enough to pass a thin skewer through; the kernel should then be extracted, and another hole bored in the side of the nut, as in the diagram. a skewer should next be cut large enough at the top to form a head. a piece of string is then tied to the skewer, and passed through the hole in the side of the nut, and an apple or potato stuck on the end of the skewer. the mill should be twirled round in the same way as the humming top to wind up the string, holding the nut stationary between the forefinger and thumb of the left hand. when this is done, the string must be pulled out rapidly, and the mill will spin. many other toys may be made upon the same principle, and some of these we will now describe. [illustration: whirling mac.] $whirling mac.$--our illustration shows how the apple mill may be modified for a whirling mac. the arms and legs of the figure should be tied loosely to the body and the skirt should be loose too. tie the string to the spindle inside the nut and have a button on the end of the string so that you may have a firm hold. now twist the figure round until all the string is wound, then hold the nut firmly in your left hand and draw the string out suddenly and swiftly with your right hand. the figure will whirl round, throwing out his arms and legs. when the string comes to an end slacken it, and the impetus of the figure will cause it to wind the string again. thus you may go on and on until you are tired. [illustration: fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. . flying machine.] $a flying machine.$--similar in principle is the flying machine now to be described. in fig. _a_ is a handle cut in any hard wood four and a half inches long. into the top of this handle bore a hole down its centre about one inch deep, and force into this a piece of wire so that the wire will be quite firm. this wire should be of iron or steel, with a diameter of one-eighth of an inch, and it should be about three and a half inches long. it will be easier to force the wire into the wood if it is sharpened. the hole you have bored is only an inch deep; force the wire half an inch deeper than that. obtain now from your mother or sister an ordinary cotton spool about one and a quarter inches long. this is shown at _b_ in fig. . in the same figure _c_ is a kind of wheel made as follows. if you cannot find something ready made take a small piece of well-seasoned wood. cut it until it is an inch in diameter and five-eighths of an inch deep. see fig. . down the middle bore the hole _a_ large enough that the wire you put down the handle in fig. may turn easily in it. mark the upper surface of the wheel into four equal parts, and then you will be able to draw four perpendicular lines round this wheel at equal distances. two of these lines are shown in fig. . now draw the line _a b_ in fig. half way down the wheel. follow this line round and bore four pairs of holes as deeply as you can without piercing the centre hole. one pair is shown in fig. . each little hole is about a quarter of an inch from its neighbour. these pairs of holes must be the same distance from each other; they are for the wings you see in fig. , and which we will now proceed to make. take forty-two inches of light brass wire. divide this into four equal parts. you will then have four pieces of ten and a half inches each. bend each one into the shape shown in fig. . these wings will be about four inches long and about two inches broad at their widest part. the ends of the wire should be about a quarter of an inch apart. cover these wire frames with light tough paper, using as little paste as possible. the wings are inserted slanting like the sails of a windmill. now let us go back to the spool. upon the upper surface midway between its centre hole and the edge of the spool insert a piece of strong wire or the end of a broken knitting needle. the wire should be rigid, and should project from the spool about half an inch. when you put your wheel and wings upon the spool this wire will rest beside one of the wings and cause it to turn when the spool turns. now take a piece of cord and wind it away from you with your right hand round the spool. hold the handle firmly in your left hand and withdraw the string rapidly. the wheel and wings will mount rapidly in the air for about fifty feet and then come steadily down. [illustration: a dancing figure.] $a dancing figure.$--the illustration shows the back view of a toy easily constructed but capable of affording much amusement to the little ones. a is an ordinary lath glued to a cardboard figure of a man. the arms and legs too are of cardboard fixed loosely with short string knotted at each end. at the extremities of the arms and legs the strings b and c are tied and connected with the string d. pull the string d and the figure will throw up his arms and legs wildly. bears and other figures may be made upon the same principle. a string f may be put at e and then the lath is not necessary, for the performer can then hold string f in one hand and pull string d with the other. [illustration: the lively donkey.] $the lively donkey.$--on stout paper or cardboard draw upon a large scale the illustration. divide the drawing into three parts by cutting out the circle. you may now pin the parts upon the wall in such attitudes as are shown in the smaller illustration, or if you cut out many donkeys you may have all these attitudes and more. [illustration: camera obscura.] $a camera obscura.$--obtain an oblong box, about two feet long, twelve inches wide, and eight high. in one end of this a tube must be fitted containing a lens. it must be possible to slide the tube backwards and forwards so as to obtain the focus. inside the box should be a plain mirror reclining backwards from the tube at an angle of forty-five degrees. see a b in the figure. at the top of the box at c is a square of frosted glass or a piece of tissue paper, upon which from beneath the picture will be thrown, and may be seen by raising the lid d. to use the camera place the tube with the lens in it opposite the object or scene, and having adjusted the focus, the image will be thrown upon the ground-glass or tissue paper. $jig saw puzzle.$--this old form of toy has been revived lately. it is easily made. glue upon a thin piece of wood a picture, a coloured one is best. then with a fret saw cut picture and board into all manner of wild shapes, shake them into disorder and then try to put them back again into their proper position. jig saw is a piece of american slang for fret saw. $the wonderful chicken.$--with the help of the diagram it will not be difficult to construct a chicken that will move its head and tail in a comic manner. a b c d is a box that acts as a base and conceals the pendulum. it will need to have a slit in the top for the strings which hold the pendulum. the chicken is of wood and its body has two sides. one side has been removed so that the mechanism may be seen, but when the chicken is complete the mechanism is hidden. it will be seen that the head and tail are attached to the body with nails, but in such a way that they are not rigid but will move up and down. e is a pendulum of lead or other heavy material, and as it swings to and fro the strings cause the head and tail to bob up and down alternately. other moving figures may be made upon the same principle. longer strings, and a longer box to accommodate them, give slower and more lasting movements. [illustration: the wonderful chicken.] $the mouse in the trap.$--cut a piece of cardboard of the size of a penny, and paint on one side a mouse, and on the other a trap; fasten two pieces of thread one on each side at opposite points of the card, so that the card can be made to revolve by twirling the threads with the finger and thumb. while the toy is in its revolution, the mouse will be seen inside the trap. many others may be made upon the same principle. $distorted landscapes.$--take a piece of smooth white pasteboard and sketch a picture upon it. prick the outlines in every part with a pin or needle, then put the pricked drawing in a perpendicular position, and place a lighted candle behind it. stand in front of it another piece of pasteboard, and trace with a pencil the lines given by the light, and you will have a peculiar distorted landscape. take away the candle and the pricked drawing, and put your eye where the light was, and the drawing will lose its peculiarities. to find the proper position for your eye it will be best to cut out a piece of card, adjust it, and look through a hole made to occupy the place where stood the flame of the candle. [illustration: the mouse in the trap.] [illustration: fig. ., fig. ., fig. .] $the working woodman.$--the wind, as well as a pendulum, may be used to make wooden figures move. in fig. we have two pieces of wood, each an inch thick, an inch and a half wide, and twelve inches long. if we place them as in fig. we have four arms five and a quarter inches long. each one of these four arms has now to be cut into a shape to adapt it as a windmill sail; that is it has to be made into a slanting thin blade not more than an eighth of an inch thick, and all the blades must present a similar slope to the wind. as mistakes are likely to occur, here we will endeavour to make the point clear. take the arm a, fig. . suppose you have slanted this from x to y. now imagine that b comes round to a's position, then it, too, must be sloped in precisely the same way, and not sloped from y to x. the same applies to arms c and d. imagine them coming to this upright position, and make them all alike as they arrive there. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration] [illustration] the method of fixing the four arms into one piece is shown in fig. . a hole should now be bored exactly in the centre at the crossing of the arms. the platform upon which the figure of the woodman will stand, shown in fig. , consists of a piece of wood half an inch thick, six inches wide and twelve inches long. at each end is screwed a block to hold the shaft which communicates the movement of the sails to the figure. this shaft is a piece of strong wire fifteen inches long, bent into a crank, as shown in the diagram, and working round and round in the two blocks. the end of the wire that comes through the centre of the windmill sails should be bent up or down to prevent it from slipping out of position. the vane, which will cause the mill to keep in the right position whichever way the wind blows, is shown twice in fig. . it is of thin wood, and is fastened to the underside of the platform by means of the little catch, which should be left when the vane is made. the figures whose parts are shown should be cut out of thin wood with a fret-saw, and put together so that the joints turn easily on the pins that are put through them. two bodies are needed. to adjust the figure take off one side of the body and place the woodman in the act of completing his stroke, with the axe touching the wood, then put a peg or small tack or nail immediately behind the projection on the top of the legs. this will keep his body from bending too far forward. now let the axe be raised to the beginning of the stroke, and put a peg in front of the projection. the arm is connected with the crank by a piece of wire. you may not find the right place at first, but a few trials will put you right. bore a hole in the arm, put the wire through, and twist it round to keep it there. [illustration] a sawyer may be made upon the same principle, as the illustrations show, or you may have a simple windmill and no figures. fix the platform and its figures on the top of a pole with a pivot so that they may turn freely in the wind. before you bore the hole through the platform balance the whole carefully upon the pole or you will put the hole in the wrong place. $the skip-jack.$--the skip-jack is made out of the merry-thought of a goose. a strong doubled string must be tied at the two ends of the bone, and a piece of wood about three inches long put between the strings, as shown in the illustration, and twisted round until the string has the force of a spring. a bit of shoemaker's wax should then be put in the hollow of the bone at the place where the end of the piece of wood touches, and when the wood is pressed slightly on the wax the toy is set. the wood sticks only a very short time, and then springs forcibly up. the skip-jack is placed on the ground with the wax downwards. upon this principle toy frogs are made sometimes. [illustration: the skip-jack.] [illustration: the jolly pea.] $the jolly pea.$--stick through a pea, or small ball of pith, two pins at right angles, and put upon the points pieces of sealing-wax. the pea may be kept dancing in the air at a short distance from the end of a straight tube, by means of a current of breath from the mouth. this imparts a rotatory motion to the pea. a piece of broken clay tobacco pipe serves very well. some boys prefer one pin (the vertical one) and dispense with the cross pin. [illustration: revolving serpent.] $a revolving serpent.$--draw on a piece of cardboard a spiral serpent, as shown in the figure. cut along the lines with a sharp knife, and mount it on a needle fixed in a cork. the serpent will now revolve on its own account. its movements may be greatly accelerated by fixing it by means of a bent wire over the flame of a lamp or candle. chapter xxiv concerning many things $a simple shelter.$--a very easy way to rig up a shelter from sun or rain is given in the accompanying sketch. two poles with a deep notch in the top of each, a rope, two pegs, a sheet, and a few large stones complete the shelter. an ingenious boy could arrange an end, or two if he needs them. [illustration: a simple shelter.] $a calendar on your fingers.$--this is the way that an old-timer manages to keep account of the days of the week that months open with. it will be found correct and interesting to people who have a memory for such things: "what day of the week did january come in on?" asked grandfather martin. "if you can tell that, i can tell you the day that any month will come in on, by help of a little lingo i learned from my father when i was a boy. friday, did you say?" and he held up his hand preparatory to counting his fingers. "now, april is the fourth month; let us see--'at dover dwelt george brown, esq., good christopher finch, and david frier.' we go by the first letters of these words-- , , , : 'at dover dwelt george'--g is the letter, and it is the seventh in the alphabet. january came in on friday you say, friday, saturday, sunday, monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday--seven; april comes in on thursday. take february--second month: 'at dover.' d is the letter, and fourth in the alphabet. friday, one; saturday, two; sunday, three; monday, four; february comes in on monday. "if you make no mistake in using the rule, it will give you the answer every time." "but it did not give the answer for april," said harry, who had been referring to an almanac. "april began on friday." "to be sure, boy! this is leap year, is it not?" leap year requires the addition of one day for the last ten months, to allow for the th of february. so all fools' day came on friday this year. "i never knew anybody outside of my father's family," continued the old gentleman, "who knew this little lingo and how to use it. he taught it to his children, and i have tried to teach it to mine, but they seem to forget it, and i am afraid it will get lost. when father used to go to presbytery, fifty years ago, it often happened that a question of dates and their relation to days would come up, and no almanac at hand; in fact, the question might be as to some day of the next year; but almanac or not, my father could always find the fact wanted with just the little key of the first day of the year." $leap year.$--divide the year by . if nothing remains it is leap year. for instance / = so that is leap year. if , or remain these figures give the years after leap year. remember, leap year lapses once a century. $spiders and the weather.$--if the weather is likely to become rainy, windy, or anything but fine, spiders fix the terminating filaments, on which the whole web is suspended, unusually short. if these filaments are made unusually long we may expect a spell of fine weather. in proportion to their length is the fineness of the weather. spiders are generally indolent in rainy weather. if they are active in rain the rain will not long continue. $a barometer.$--put two drams of pure nitre and half a dram of chloride of ammonia, reduced to powder, into two ounces of spirits of wine, or pure alcohol, and place this mixture in a glass tube, ten inches long and about an inch in diameter, the upper extremity of which must be covered with a piece of skin or bladder, pierced with small holes. if the weather is to be fine, the solid matters remain at the bottom of the tube, and the alcohol is transparent. if rain is to fall in a short time, some of the solid particles rise and fall in the alcohol, which becomes somewhat thick. when a storm or even a squall is about to come on all the solid matters rise from the bottom of the tube and form a crust on the surface of the alcohol, which appears in a state of fermentation. these appearances take place twenty-four hours before the storm comes, and the point of the horizon from which it is to blow is indicated by the particles gathering most on the side of the tube opposite to that part whence the wind is to come. $another simple barometer.$--take a common phial bottle, and cut off the rim and part of the neck. this may be done by means of a piece of string, or better still, whipcord, twisted round it, and pulled strongly in a sawing position by two persons, one of whom holds the bottle firmly in his left hand. heated in a few minutes by the friction of the string, and then dipped suddenly into cold water, the bottle will be beheaded easily. let the bottle be filled now with water, and applying the finger to its mouth, turn it quickly upside down. when you remove your finger it will be found that only a few drops will escape. without cork or stopper of any kind, the water will be retained within the bottle by the pressure of the external air. now let a bit of tape be tied round the middle of the bottle to which the two ends of a string may be attached so as to form a loop to hang on a nail. let it be thus suspended in a perpendicular manner, with the mouth downwards. when the weather is fair, and inclined to remain fair, the water will be level with the section of the neck, or perhaps elevated above it, and forming a concave surface. when the weather is disposed to be wet a drop will appear at the mouth, which will enlarge till it falls, and then another drop so long as the humidity of the air continues. $how to go to sea.$--decide first whether you will go by wind or steam, as steamboat seamen and sailing-ship sailors are distinct, the former having little to do with actual seamanship, the latter everything. consequently, most parents are well advised to send their boys on sailing ships only. parents generally are at their wits' end to know what to do with boys with the sea "craze." therefore they are, as a general rule, "rushed" into paying exorbitant sums for apprenticing fees, only to find, after a voyage, their sons refuse to go again, having had enough to tire them of it. now, the best and safest way to get boys comfortably berthed as apprentices is to see by the daily papers, or the _shipping gazette_, the names of the largest firms advertising australian voyages, or voyages to the east indies, and write them particulars briefly, enclosing a stamped envelope for reply. the large firms keep a book or register, where boys' names are entered, so that when an apprentice is required the first on the page has the preference. this is the simplest and safest way, for there are always plenty of sharpers advertising for boys in the london and liverpool journals, offering midship berths and other "baits" at the moderate sum of from £ to £ . this is by no means a high estimate, for by some of the gentry larger sums are asked, and these reap golden harvests. these sharpers act as intermediates between the office people and themselves, sharing the bounty. now, few are aware that when apprenticing boys to the sea a trial voyage is necessary. a number of lads after one voyage prefer shore. therefore, before any binding moneys are paid, be careful to see that the indentures are made out clearly, as often they are carefully worded, or "blinded," as it is called at sea; so that if by chance money were paid down the difficulty would be to get it refunded, for if this is not stipulated, and a wish is afterwards expressed to cancel agreements, the purchase-money is forfeited. an excellent plan is to have a paper drawn up and signed by both parties, witnessed, and the indentures made up after the first trial trip; but it must be understood that the time of the first voyage, if it be a long one, makes a difference, as unless lads are apprenticed off-hand the "time" is counted as nothing. there is a pamphlet sold by mercantile stationers at one shilling containing much information, showing parts, and describing the various builds of sea-going craft. the contents of this should be completely mastered before any boy joins a ship, as it will help him to know part of his duties in addition to the nautical language, thereby showing to his officers that he is not a "know-nothing" lad. it will also help him in a variety of ways, it being in point of fact the a b c of ship life. "do as you are told with a will" is an expression often made use of, and in fact it must be practised by all contemplating sea life. "ship shape" is another saying suggested by the rigid discipline exercised by mariners. on one large vessel the following maxim was painted on the walls of the midship quarters: "there is a place for everything; put everything in its place." one of the things a captain or the mates dislike to see is a boy clambering over the rigging in port; time and circumstance will soon teach him that part of his duties, so that while he is in port a lad should busy himself in tidying up the deck, or by doing the work allotted to him. a boy does well to be on board his ship a day or two before departing, so as to get acquainted with the various parts, also to get himself known, and somewhat used to the deck. apprentices are expected to have a stout chest made for the purpose of storing clothes and sundries. some companies provide the articles necessary for the mess-room use, but it is well to inquire of berth-mates, or the steward, and arrange accordingly. a stout tin box, capable of holding linen is necessary, and the following articles must be procured:-- white shirt, collars, and a uniform suit for shore wear. this must be made in accordance with the rules of the company, the coat and waistcoat brass-buttoned, and the cap embellished with the house flag design and gold cordage. for ship wear no complete list can be given, the principal articles being the following: oilskin suit, one pair of sea boots, one or two pairs of half wellingtons; flannel shirts, and as many pairs of trousers and shoes as can be procured, the limit of these being at least three pairs. the numerous small articles may be left to discretion. another word of warning--do not deal with slop-shop outfitters advertising "rig outs" at low figures, but rather go to respectable tailors and traders, and purchase, or have made, the articles separately. with strict obedience, promptitude, and a cheerful disposition a lad can hardly fail to get promoted. $to make your own toffee.$--to one pound of the best demerara sugar add about a quarter of a pint of cold water and a pinch of cream of tartar. go on boiling it until when you drop a little into cold water it goes hard. you may look for this stage in about ten minutes. next take it off and add three ounces of butter cut into small pieces. boil again and test in the same way for hardness. at this stage put in lemon juice to flavour it and then pour the mixture into oiled tins. when it is nearly cold mark it into squares, and when it is quite cold divide it according to these marks. $steam rings.$--when the kettle is boiling and sending steam from its spout gently raise the lid and then shut it down again deftly. this will force the steam rapidly from the spout in the shape of very pretty rings which will rise in the air, growing larger and larger. $skeleton leaves.$--leaves from which the reader intends to derive the skeleton should be gathered fresh from tree or shrub, and put in an earthen pan filled with rain water and placed in the sunshine. when the substance of the leaf becomes soft and easily detached, they should be removed to another pan, containing clean water, in which they must be shaken about until the soft tissue breaks away from the skeleton. wash again in fresh water, and so continue until only the ribs and nervures remain. a soft tooth-brush, carefully used, will assist in the final part of this operation, the leaf being held in the palm of the hand during the process. now for the bleaching. purchase two pennyworth of purified chloride of lime, and dissolve it in a pint of water. in this solution put your skeleton leaves, and keep them under observation. as soon as one has become quite white it should be taken out and rinsed in clear water, then carefully dried. the softening process will take weeks, in some tougher species of leaf it may take months. this period may be lessened by using a small quantity of either muriatic acid or chloride of lime, but with either of these agents there is danger of rotting the skeleton. the rain-water process is the safest and most permanent. $to imitate a nightingale.$--many years ago a clever frenchman analysed the song of the nightingale and made out that it consists of the following sounds:-- temee temee temee tan spretu zqua querree pee pee teeo teeo teeo tix quteeo quteeo quteeo zquo zquo zquo zquo zee zee zee zee zee zee zee querrer teeu zqula peepee quee. $pith beads.$--a little boy we know amuses himself by threading pieces of pith and then painting the pith with water colours. when his mother wears the necklace he has made in this way people are very curious to know what the beads are, and fancy they must have been made by the natives of foreign parts, probably of the south sea islands. $hints on handwriting.$--although typewriters are excellent things, they are comparatively useless just in those particular cases where distinct handwriting is of the greatest importance, and where it is so very rarely met with. by some strange process of reasoning, it has come about that almost any sort of writing is thought good enough for a postcard, telegram, or medical prescription. the same man who would make a very fair performance when engaged on a long communication, in which the context would be almost certain to help the reader to decipher a queer word here and there, will dash off the most puzzling penmanship when writing a short but urgent note or postcard. the very brevity of the communication adds to the difficulty of understanding it. when the present writer was at school, it was impressed upon us that, whatever else might be faulty, the addressing of the envelope should be as near perfection as we could make it. the postman of the present day will tell you that this arrangement is now reversed, and, with the exception of letters sent out by business firms, the addresses he has to grapple with are very badly and incompletely written. here are a few short hints, the acting upon which will vastly improve the most slovenly handwriting in a week, if persevered in. in the first place, reduce the slope of your handwriting until it is almost, if not quite vertical. then break yourself of the habit of crowding your letters too closely together, on the one hand, and sprawling them out unduly, on the other. instead of sprawling the letters out so, write each character compactly, but join it to the following one by a distinct link-stroke, as it were. this is the sort of writing approved of by the civil service commissioners. at one time much stress was laid upon the importance of thick and thin strokes, hair strokes, and so on. excepting in the case of professional engravers, and for artistic purposes, all these refinements are out of date. what is of vastly more importance is the making of a careful distinction between the letters m, n, and u, and again between the letters e and i. good test-words to practice with are these: union, commence, ounce, suit, sweet, manumotive, immense, unite, untie. characters which extend above or below the line should not do so more than is sufficient to prevent their being mistaken for other letters. all the i's should be dotted and the t's crossed. finally, the last letter of every word should be written distinctly, no matter in what hurry you may be, for it is wonderful what an aid to legibility the observance of this simple rule will afford. those who follow these hints may never write a pretty hand, but they can scarcely fail to write a legible one, no small accomplishment in these days, when so many of us can do almost any out-of-the-way thing, but find it difficult to sign our names distinctly. $secret writing.$--mix well some lard with a little venice turpentine, and rub a small part of it equally on very thin paper by means of a piece of fine sponge, or in some other way. lay this with the greasy side downwards upon a sheet of note-paper, and write your message upon the plain side of the greasy paper with a style or the thin end of your pen-holder, using a little pressure. nothing will be seen on the note-paper; but what you have written may be made visible there by dusting upon it some pounded charcoal or other coloured dust. shake or blow this dust away and there will remain as much of it as has fallen upon the parts where your style pressed the lard upon the note-paper. $resin bubbles.$--if the end of a copper tube or of a tobacco pipe be dipped in melted resin at a temperature a little above that of boiling water, taken out and held nearly in a vertical position, and blown through, bubbles will be formed of all possible sizes, from that of a hen's egg down to sizes which can hardly be seen. these bubbles have a very pleasing appearance and are permanent. $etching on glass.$--cover the glass with a thin coat of beeswax, and draw your design with a needle cutting down through the wax to the surface of the glass. place the glass in a shallow bath, and cover it evenly with fluor-spar to the depth of an eight of an inch. now pour sulphuric acid diluted with three times its weight of water upon the spar. let this remain three or four hours. pour away the acid, remove the spar, and clean the glass with turpentine, and your design will be found upon the glass. $how to make carbon paper.$--carbonic paper for use with order books, and for other purposes, is made as follows: cold lard well mixed with lamp-black is well rubbed into the paper with a soft piece of cotton rag. when evenly and thoroughly done, wipe the surface gently with flannel until the colour ceases to come off; it is then ready for use. to obtain similar papers but of other colours, substitute ordinary paint powders for the lamp-black. the most suitable colours will be found to be venetian red, prussian blue, chrome green. $the making of paste.$--there are so many occupations with which boys amuse themselves that need paste that we have included a few recipes. a simple paste.--for a breakfast cup full of a simple paste, needed for use at the moment, and not required to be kept for many days, take a heaped tablespoonful of flour. mix it thoroughly with cold water as though you were mixing mustard, then fill the cup with boiling water, pour the whole into a saucepan, and let it boil gently for a few minutes. it is then ready for use. you may use starch instead of flour. a large quantity that will last.--in a quart of water dissolve a teaspoonful of pure powdered alum. into this stir as much flour as will make a thick cream, and keep on stirring until the mixture is smooth and until every lump has been removed. thoroughly mix with this a teaspoonful of powdered resin, and into this mixture pour a cup of boiling water. keep on stirring, and if the mixture does not thicken from the action of the boiling water assist it to thicken by placing it upon the fire for a minute or two. afterwards add a few drops of oil of cloves to preserve it from going sour. pour the paste into some vessel that has a cover, and keep it covered and in a cool place. in this form it will be thicker and stronger than is necessary for general use, but take a little as you need it and reduce it to its right consistency with warm water. $rice glue.$--mix rice flour well with cold water, then simmer it gently over the fire. this makes a fine kind of paste, durable and effective. mixed thickly it may be used as a modelling clay, and when it is dry it takes a high polish. $dressing the skins of small animals.$--different dressings have been recommended, most of which contain arsenic or corrosive sublimate, which are deadly poisons; but really all that is necessary is simple alum, a pound of which can be bought for three-halfpence. stretch the skin fur downwards on a board, and fasten it with tacks. put powdered alum over it, and rub it in well. continue to do this every two or three days for a fortnight. then remove the alum, and with a knife scrape carefully off any bits of flesh or fat that may be left on the skin. when dried, to render it soft, rub a little yolk of egg or oil into it, and draw it backwards and forwards across the edge of a blunt knife, fixed for the purpose. drawing through a ring, or well rubbing between the hands will also serve to soften it. $casts of medals and coins.$--cut a strip of brown paper about six inches long by one inch deep. rub a little oil or grease all over that side of the coin you wish to reproduce, cleaning off all superfluous grease with a little cotton wool, but still leaving the surface greased. then roll the paper round the edge of the coin so that it resembles a pill-box with a metal bottom, and fix the loose end with a dab of sealing wax. into this pour a mixture of plaster of paris and water made to the consistence of cream, tapping the box lightly on the table to cause the plaster to settle down free from bubbles. when the plaster is set quite hard, strip off the paper, and you have your plaster mould. by soaking this with oil and fastening a strip of paper round it as round the coin, you have a complete mould into which you can pour plaster and so take a cast exactly like the original except in colour, which however may be imitated with water colours. another plan is to make the mould of a different substance, such as isinglass; thoroughly dissolve isinglass in spirits of wine, then pour upon the coin as before, and set aside for a day or two. when quite hard it will separate easily and be found as clear as a bit of glass. $removal of ink blots.$--ink-blots can be removed from paper by painting over with a camel-hair brush dipped in a solution of drachms muriate of tin in drachms of water. when the ink has quite disappeared, rinse the paper in clean water; then dry it. $grease removed from paper.$--to remove grease spots from paper, gently warm the greasy part and press it, under and over, with blotting-paper. repeatedly change the blotting-paper until most of the grease has disappeared. then heat a very little oil of turpentine until nearly boiling, again warm the paper, and apply the turpentine to the grease spot by means of a camel's hair brush, on both sides of the paper. repeat this process until the grease has _quite_ disappeared. finally, with a clean brush, dipped in spirits of wine, again brush over the spot, and as the spirit evaporates the paper will be left free from grease or stain. remember that oil of turpentine is very inflammable. it would be safer to heat it in the oven. $invisible ink.$--take an ounce of oil of vitriol, and mix with a pint of rain water, and when cool write with a clean pen. when it is cold it will disappear. heat it and it will appear in black ink. here are some other inks which appear and disappear at the writer's will:-- solution of nitro-muriate of cobalt, when heated turns green; solution of acetate of cobalt, with a little nitre becomes rose-colour when warm. inks which remain visible when heated, but do not disappear when cooled include, onion-juice, yellow; equal parts of copper and sal-ammoniac in water, yellow; aquafortis, spirits of salt, oil of vitriol, and salt and water, yellow or brown. inks which appear when exposed to light may be made with diluted solution of nitrate of silver, or with diluted solution of terchloride of gold. $how leaves keep clean.$--while leaf shapes have formed a subject of study ever since botanical science has existed, it is only recently that one of the most remarkable purposes which the points of leaves serve has been clearly brought out. it has been shown, as the result of some special investigations made in germany, that the long points quickly drain off the excess of moisture deposited upon the foliage in heavy rains. this ready method of disposing of a surplus of moisture is important to some plants. it also serves as a means of cleaning the surface of the leaves. round leaves do not so easily get rid of the rain water, and it has been noticed that they remain dusty and dirty after a shower, the escape of the water by evaporation not tending to cleanse them, while long, narrow, pointed leaves are washed clean and bright. [illustration] [illustration: deaf and dumb alphabet] [illustration: deaf and dumb alphabet single hand.] [illustration: deaf and dumb alphabet single hand.] [illustration: how to tie knots.] [illustration:] [illustration:] the end index alcohol and athletics, alphabet, deaf and dumb, angling, apple mill, aquariums, artist, the boy as, Ã�olian harp, an, how to make, balloons, bubble, balloons, fire, to make, barometers, simple, barrel, hammock made from a, beads of pith, binding books, blotting pad, boat race, game of, boats made of pasteboard, books, how to bind, boomerangs, bottle, the inexhaustible, boxing, boxing by electricity, bubble balloons, bubbles of resin, budgerigars, bust in clay, how made, butterflies, cage birds, calendar, a, on your fingers, camera obscura, a, camp, cooking in, canaries, candle, the chemistry of a, canoes, canoes, steering of, carbon paper, how to make, card tricks, casting coins and medals, cavies, chess, how to play, chicken, the wonderful, coins, how to cast, coloured fires, concert, game of, conflagration, a seeming, conjuring, consequences, game of, cooking in camp, cremated alive, crystals, beautiful, crystals, brilliant, curling, cutter, model, how to make, cyr louis, dancing figure, deaf and dumb alphabet, digging, distorted landscapes, dogs, donkey, the lively, draughts, how to play, draughts, the losing game, drawing, drop ball, dumb bells, , , , egg and bottle trick, electricity, boxing by, electrical machine, an, how to make, enlargement of photographs, etching on glass, fight for the flag, filter, how to make a, fire, a well of, fire balloons, to make, fires, coloured, fire designs, fishing, fives, flying machine, football, fountain, a novel, fountain, how to make a, fox, fox and geese, french and english, fugleman, game, an amusing, games, gardening, ghost, to make a, glass, etching on, glue made of rice, golf, gravity, the centre of, grease, to remove, guinea pigs, gymnastics, haloes, three, hammock, how to make a, handwriting, hints on, harp, Ã�olian, an, how to make, hectograph, how to make, hedgehog, the, hockey, hoops, games with, hop-scotch, horizontal bar, , horse, a prancing, hurdle races, hygrometer, a, illusions, optical, index, how to make, indian clubs, , ink, invisible, ink, removal of, jackdaws, jay, the, jig saw puzzle, jingling, jumping, , kite, how to make a, knots, how to tie, landscapes, distorted, lantern slides, leap year, leverage, an experiment in, leaves, how they keep clean, leaves, how to use, leaves, skeleton, levy, mr. e. lawrence, mac, a whirling, macgregor, john, magazines, how to bind, magician, the boy as, magic lantern slides, magpie, the, medals, how to cast, mice, white, modelling with clay, moths, mouse, the, in the trap, musical glass, a, needle, the floating, net making, newspaper cuttings book, nickie nickie night, nightingale, to imitate a, nine men's morris, optical illusions, paperchasing, parallel bars, pasteboard, boats made of, paste, how to make, pea, the jolly, perspective, rules of, pets, photographic enlargements, pith beads, polyphony, portrait bust, how made, posting, potatoe mill, prisoners' base, puzzles, puzzles, puzzles, answers to, pyrography, quaternions, how to play, rabbits, rackets, raven, the, resin bubbles, rice glue, rings, exercises with, rings of steam, rob roy canoe, , rowing, running, , sailing on skates, schooner, model, how to make, scrap book, how to make, sculling, sea, how to go to, secret writing, seed, how to sow, serpent, a revolving, shadow buff, shaving papers, case for, shelter, a simple, silkworms, skates, sailing on, skating, skeleton leaves, sketching, skins, how to dress, skip-jack, the, sleigh for baby, how to make, sleigh, how to make, slides for magic lantern, smoke produced at will, spiders and the weather, sprinting, steam rings, steeplechasing, stencilling, swimming, syphon, the, tent, a simple, toffee, to make your own, top, a simple, training for athletics, trapeze, turnpike, vacuum, a, what it can do, ventriloquism, walking, , , water boiled by coldness, water boiled in paper bag, water, illuminated, water polo, water upside down, weather, the, and spiders, weston's walk, whirling mac, a, white mice, window box, wine glass, the magic, wood carving, woodman, the working, writing pad, writing, secret, writing, the magic, writing, the, on the wall, yachts, , zebra finches, printed by the london and norwich press, limited london and norwich transcriber's notes: the symbol [| ] represents a reversed numeral three. missing punctuation has been added in several places. the symbol [a | b] represents an a printed vertically above a b. the oe ligature is rendered as [oe]. italics are rendered between underscores, e.g. _italics_. bold text is rendered between dollar signs, e.g. $bold$. small caps are rendered with all caps. the following table lists other changes made by the transcriber. +---------------------------+ | transcriber's changes | +-----+----------+----------+ |page |as printed|changed to| +-----+----------+----------+ | | throught | thought | | |shufflling|shuffling | | | | v | +-----+----------+----------+ three valuable books. _beautifully printed and elegantly bound._ the art of conversation, with directions for self-culture. an admirably conceived and entertaining book--sensible, instructive, and full of suggestions valuable to every one who desires to be either a good talker or listener, or who wishes to appear to advantage in good society. *** price $ . . the habits of good society. a handbook for ladies and gentlemen. with thoughts, hints, and anecdotes concerning social observances; nice points of taste and good manners; and the art of making oneself agreeable. the whole interspersed with humorous social predicaments; remarks on fashion, etc. *** price $ . . the art of amusing. a collection of graceful arts, merry games, and odd tricks, intended to amuse everybody, and enable all to amuse everybody else. full of suggestions for private theatricals, tableaux, charades, and all sorts of parlor and family amusements. with nearly illustrative pictures. *** price $ . . _these three books are the most perfect of their kind ever published. they are made up of no dry stupid rules that everybody knows, but are fresh, sensible, good-humored, entertaining, and readable. every person of taste should possess them, and cannot be otherwise than delighted with them. *** each will be sent by mail, free, on receipt of price, or the three books for $ . ._ carleton, publisher, new york. [illustration: the art of amusing by frank bellew carleton, publisher, new york.] the art of amusing. being a collection of graceful arts, merry games, odd tricks, curious puzzles, and new charades. together with suggestions for private theatricals, tableaux, and all sorts of parlor and family amusements. a volume intended to amuse everybody and enable all to amuse everybody else; thus bringing about as near an approximation to the millennium as can be conveniently attained in the compass of one small volume. by frank bellew. with nearly illustrations by the author. [illustration] new york: _carleton, publisher, broadway._ _london: s. low, son & co._ mdccclxvi. entered according to act of congress, in the year , by geo. w. carleton, in the clerk's office of the district court of the united states for the southern district of new york. [illustration] to j. c. w. to you, my little kinsman, i dedicate these pages, tho' not so wise, perhaps, as some you've read by graver sages; they're not without a purpose, and i trust a kind and true one, older than eighteen hundred years, still good as any new one. if they could cheer some winter nights, and make some days seem brighter, i'd feel i'd paid a groat or so, of that great debt of love i owe, to one at rest who, long ago, dealt kindly by the writer. f. b. _contents._ _chapter i.--something censorious.--declaration of independence.--card puzzle.--the magic coin.--a hoax.--the telescopic visitor.--boy's head knocked off._ _chapter ii.--colored mesmerism._ _chapter iii.--lemon pig and root dragon.--portrait of the gorilla.--creature comforts.--high shoulders.--theatre and theatrical performances.--nose turned up and teeth knocked out without pain.--the long-nosed night-howler, or vulgaris pueris cum papyrus capitus.--imitation banjo on piano.--some conjuring tricks.--the reduced gentleman, or dwarf perforce._ _chapter iv.--the voice of the night-howler.--the play of punch and judy, with full directions for producing the same.--charade on rattan._ _chapter v.--parlor arts and ornaments, comprising apple-seed mice, turnip roses, beet dahlias, and carrot marigolds.--counting a billion.--the algebraic paradox.--answer to charade on rattan.--riddles, etc._ _chapter vi.--a patent play._ _chapter vii.--pragmatic and didactic discourse.--aunty delluvian, her party.--the duck and double-barrelled speech.--the dwarf.--trick with four grains of rice.--riddles, etc._ _chapter viii.--the dancing highlander and matadore._ _chapter ix.--answer to trick with four grains of rice.--how to make an old apple-woman out of your fist._ _chapter x.--about giants, and how to make them._ _chapter xi.--a merry christmas.--the boomerang.--optical illusion.--how to turn a young man's head.--the tiger-dog, how to make him.--the elephant, how to make him.--two queer characters.--captain dawk and colonel gurramuchy._ _chapter xii.--hanky-panky, instruction in the art._ _chapter xiii.--a tranquil mood.--transparencies of paper.--the dancing pea.--artificial teeth._ _chapter xiv.--artemus ward, parlor edition._ _chapter xv.--bullywingle the beloved. a drama for private performance._ _chapter xvi.--a quiet evening.--fruit animals.--window staining.--oddities with pen and ink._ _chapter xvii.--a country christmas.--the trick trumpet.--eatable candle.--how to cut off a head.--ventriloquism.--the jumping rabbit.--santa claus arrives._ _chapter xviii.--the bird-whistle, how to make it._ _chapter xix.--a quiet party.--electric nose.--miniature camera.--the hat trick.--the magician of morocco._ _chapter xx.--theatrical red and green fire, how to make them.--how to get up a theatrical storm._ _chapter xxi.--card-board puzzles, the cross, the horseshoe, the arch._ _chapter xxii.--the muffin man.--earth, air, fire, and water.--the broken mirror._ _chapter xxiii.--at a watering-place.--a ladies' fair.--three sticks a penny.--smoking a cigar under water.--firing at a target behind you.--firing firewater.--a practical joke.--explosive spiders._ _chapter xxiv.--arithmetical puzzles.--the wolf, the goat, and the cabbage.--alderman gobble's six geese, etc., etc._ _chapter xxv.--charades._ _chapter xxvi.--the art of transmuting everything into coral._ _chapter xxvii.--acting charades._ _chapter xxviii.--the worship of bud._ the art of amusing. "_all work and no play, makes jack a dull boy._" chapter i. [illustration] perhaps one of the great social faults of the american is, that he does not amuse himself enough, at least in a cheerful, innocent manner. we are never jolly. we are terribly troubled about our dignity. all other nations, the french, the german, the italian, and even the dull english, have their relaxation, their merry-making; but we--why, a political or prayer-meeting is about the most hilarious affair in which we ever indulge. the french peasant has his _ducas_ almost every week, when in some rustic orchard, lighted with variegated lamps, ornamented with showy booths, he dances the merry hours away with pauline and josephine, or sips his glass of wine with the chosen of his heart in a canvas cabaret, whilst the music of a band and the voices of a hundred merry laughers regale his ears. he has, too, numberless _fêtes_, which he celebrates with masquerades and other undignified kinds of jollification. at these entertainments all are welcome, high and low, and all conduct themselves with a politeness worthy of our best society--_only more_. we, the writer of this, have often and often danced at these _bals champêtres_ with a hired girl, a cook, or a nurse for our partner. does it not sound plebeian? the germans enjoy endless festivals and gift periods, when they have the meanness to offer each other little presents "that an't worth more than two or three cents;" but they are tokens of love and kindness, which make them all feel better and happier. then our grumpy friend, john bull, has his free-and-easies, and his cosy tavern parlor-meetings, and song-singings, and his dinner-parties, and his tea-fights, at which latter, be the host rich or poor, you will get a good cup of tea, and tender muffins, and buttered toast, and cake, and shrimps, and fresh radishes, and scotch marmalade, or similar delicacies. a delightful repast and a cosy chat, followed, perhaps, by a rubber of whist and a glass of wine or whiskey-punch, or mug of ale, according to the condition of the entertainer; then there is a general "unbending of the bow," and no one is troubled about his dignity. we have seen, ourselves, in england, in a stately old castle, a party of lords and ladies--for we, like the boy who knew what good victuals were, having been from home several times--even we have seen good company--we say that we have seen a party of lords and ladies, knights and dames of high degree, and of mature years, romping and frolicking together, like a lot of children, playing _hunt the slipper_, _puss in the corner_, _and blindman's buff_, without the remotest idea that they had such a thing as dignity to take care of; and no one seemed to have the slightest fear that any one of the party could by any possibility do anything that would offend or mortify any one else. the fact is, gentlemen or gentlewomen can do anything; all depends on the way of doing it. if you are a snob, for heaven's sake don't be playful; keep a stiff upper lip and look grave; it is your only safety. however, we are improving. we have skating clubs. we play cricket and base ball. we dine later, and take things a trifle more leisurely. theatre-going, our chief amusement, can hardly be reckoned a healthy relaxation, though well enough now and then. sitting in a cramped attitude, in a stifling atmosphere, is not conducive to moral or physical development. what we need are informal social gatherings, where we may laugh much and think little, and where dignity won't be invited; where we need not make ourselves ill with bad champagne and ice-starch, nor go into the other extreme of platitudes, ice-water and doughnuts: but where both body and mind will be treated considerately, tenderly, generously. now we are going to give a few hints that may help to make little meetings such as we mention pass pleasantly; and should any of our austere readers be afraid to risk our programme in full, they can call in the children and make them shoulder the responsibility. "it is," you can say, "a child's party," and then you can enjoy all the fun yourself. the juveniles will not object. if merely for the purpose of promoting conversation, something ought to be _done_, on all occasions of social gatherings, something to talk about, something that will afford people an excuse for getting from their seats, something to bring people together, something to break the ice. we have seen a whole party of very estimable people sit round the room for hours together in an agony of silence, only broken now and then by a small remark fired off by some desperate individual, in the forlorn hope that he would bring on a general conversation. in our little sketches we shall be discursive, erratic, and unsystematic, just as the fancy takes us. still, there will be a method in our madness; we shall try to give in each chapter a programme somewhat suited to some one season, and of sufficient variety and quantity to afford amusement for one evening. [illustration] in the first place, we must remark, in a general way, that we like a large centre-table. it is something to rally round, it is handy to put things on, and convenient for the bashful to lean against. on this table i would accumulate picture-books, toys, and knick-knacks--little odds and ends which will serve as subjects for conversation. if you can do no better, make a pig out of a lemon and four lucifer matches, or an alligator out of a carrot. but we will give some detailed instructions on this point in a future chapter. any simple puzzles, numbers of which can be made out of cards, will be found helpful. take, for example, a common visiting-card, and bend down the two ends, and place it on a smooth table, as represented in the annexed diagram, and then ask any one to blow it over. this seems easy enough; yet it is next door to an impossibility. still, it is to be done by blowing sharply and not too hard on the table, about an inch from the card. another little trick consists in making a coin (if such a thing is to be found nowadays) stick to the door. this is done by simply making a little notch with a knife on the edge of the coin, so that a small point of metal may project, which, when it is pressed against the woodwork, will penetrate, and so cause the dime or half-dime to appear to adhere magically to a perpendicular surface. when you have exhibited one or two tricks of this kind, some other member of the party may have something to show. then, having secured the confidence of your audience, you may venture to play a hoax upon them. never mind how trifling or how old these things are, they will serve the purpose of making people talk. say, for example: "now, ladies and gentlemen, i will show a trick that is worth seeing. there are only two people in the united states that can execute it--myself and the siamese twins. first of all, i must borrow two articles from two ladies--a pocket-handkerchief and--a boot-jack." of course no one has the boot-jack; so, pretending to be a little disappointed, you say: "never mind; i must do without it. will some gentleman be kind enough to lend me three twenty-dollar gold pieces?" of course no one has these, either; so you content yourself with borrowing two cents. you place one in each hand, and extending your arms wide apart, assure your audience that you will make both pennies pass into one hand without bringing your arms together. this you do by laying one on the mantel-piece, and turning your whole body round, your arms still extended, till the hand containing the other coin comes over the place where you laid down the cent; then you quietly take it up, and the trick is performed. after a little conversation, you can try something which requires a little more preparation. the servant, whom you have previously instructed, comes into the room and announces that "that" gentleman has called to look at the pictures. you desire him to be shown in, and a short, broad-shouldered man makes his appearance. soon after he enters, he turns his back on the company and begins to examine the works of art on the wall, lengthening and shortening his body to suit the height of the object he wishes to inspect. this is performed by your little brother or son, aided by a broom, a couple of cloaks, and a hat. how, you will doubtless be able to understand by looking at the subjoined picture. [illustration] [illustration] another trick of the same order can be performed in this wise: the servant comes in to inform you that a naughty little boy--jacky or willy--in another room won't eat his custard, but will cry for ice-cream, or roast-beef, or alligator-soup. every one is invited into the room to see this singular child. you find him seated on a high chair, with a very dirty face, making grimaces. you take the dish of custard in one hand and a large spoon (the larger the better) in the other, and begin to expostulate with him on his perversity, but all to no effect; he only cries and makes faces. you then tell him if he does not behave better you will be obliged to knock his head off. he continues not to behave better, whereupon you give him a tap with the spoon, and, to the surprise of all, his head rolls off on to the floor. your audience then find out that the naughty boy was made of a pillow and a few children's clothes, whilst the head was supplied by master jacky or willy, ingeniously concealed behind the chair. chapter ii. a good practical joke to play in a rollicking party, where you can venture to do it, is that of mesmerizing; you of course manage beforehand to lead the conversation to the subject of mesmerism, then profess to have wonderful powers in that line yourself. after more or less persuasion, allow yourself to be induced to operate. you then say: "well, i will try if there is any person in the company who is susceptible to the magnetic influence. it is only in rare cases we find this susceptibility; the person must be of exquisitely fine organization and steady nerve. few people can look one long enough in the face to come under the influence; and, if the current be suddenly broken, the result is apt to be very serious, if not fatal, by producing suspended action of the heart and vital organs generally." having now fully impressed on your audience the absolute necessity of keeping still, you begin to look into the eyes of different persons, press their hands, make passes at them, etc., as though you were searching for the right temperament. at last you come to your intended victim, and pronounce him just the man. you now seat him in a chair, whilst you go into another room to prepare the necessary implements. these are two plates, each having on it a tumblerful of water. one plate, however, must be thoroughly blackened at the bottom, by holding it in the smoke of a lamp or candle. this done, you carry the plates and tumblers into the audience, and hand the one which is black to the victim, who is seated in a chair. before commencing operations, you must warn the audience that it is absolutely necessary that they observe strict silence, as the least word or exclamation will break the charm, and be attended with painful effects to both operation and operatee. you may tell how, after being once disturbed in this manner, you had most painful shooting-pains in your nose for fifteen minutes, that being the point in contact with your finger at the moment of interruption. all this is to prevent any one giving vent to some exclamation calculated to betray the trick to your victim. [illustration: colored mesmerism.--_see page ._] you now seat yourself opposite the subject, and desire him to keep his eyes steadily on yours, and imitate the motions of your fingers. you then commence. first, you dip your finger in the water, and draw it down the centre of your nose; he does the same; then you rub the bottom of your plate with your fingers, and draw it over your chin; he follows your example, and makes a black smudge on his face; you rub the bottom of the plate again, and draw your finger over your nose, and so on for several minutes, till the victim has smeared himself all over with black. you then rise and compliment him on the steadiness with which he underwent the ordeal, adding, however, that he has too powerful a nervous organization for you to operate on. the victim will generally rise with a rather complacent smile at these compliments, at which point the audience will generally explode with laughter. the victim looks puzzled--more laughter--the victim, thinking they are laughing at your failure, joins in the merriment, which generally has the effect of convulsing every one, when the climax is reached by handing a mirror to the unhappy operatee, who usually looks glum, and does not see much fun in the joke. chapter iii. we will now describe a little party we attended at a country house one christmas, some years ago; and should any of our readers find aught in the entertainment they think worth copying, they can do so. [illustration] when we arrived at nix's house all the company had assembled--it consisted of about ten grown people and a dozen children. all were in a chatter over a couple of little objects on the centre-table. the one a pig manufactured out of a lemon, and the other a dragon, or what not, adapted from a piece of some kind of root our friend nix had picked up in the garden. we alluded to these works of art in our last chapter, and now give a couple of sketches of them. as will be seen, they are very easy of manufacture, and not excessively exciting when made, but they serve to set people talking. one person told the story of foote, or some other old wit, who, at a certain dinner-table, after numerous fruitless efforts to cut a pig out of orange-peel, retorted on his friend who was quizzing him on his failure: "pshaw! you've only made one pig, but (pointing to the mess on the table) i have made a litter." then some one else discovered a likeness between the dragon and a mutual friend, which produced a roar of laughter. then a child exclaimed, "oh! what a little pig!" and some one answered her: "yes, my dear, it's a pigmy." then a young lady asked how the eyes were painted, and a young gentleman replied: "with pigment." whereupon a small boy called out, "go in lemons!" which was considered rather smart in the small boy, and he was told so, which induced him to be unnecessarily forward and pert for the rest of the evening; but as he never succeeded in making another hit, he gradually simmered down to his normal condition towards the end of the entertainment. one group got into conversation about the dragon, the dragon led to fabulous animals generally, fabulous animals to antediluvian animals, these to pre-adamite animals, and so in a few minutes they were found deep in the subject of creation; whilst the group next to them, owing to some one's having conjectured whether my friend's piece of sculpture could walk, and some one else having suggested that it might be made to do so by means of clock-work or steam, had got on to the subject of machinery, modern improvements, flying-machines, and were away two thousand years off in the future, making a difference of no less than ten thousand years between themselves and the other party. at about this juncture of affairs, we happened to notice a book on the table treating of a certain very interesting animal, the newly discovered african ape, a subject which was attracting a good deal of attention at that time. we took the work in our hand and read on the cover the inscription: "portrait of the gorilla." "nix," we said to our friend, still holding the book in our hand, "if all we hear of this gorilla be true, it must be a most extraordinary animal, although i am rather inclined to be sceptical in the matter; however, i have no right, perhaps, to form an opinion, as i have never looked into the subject; but i'll get you to lend me this book to-morrow. i will take the greatest care of it, and return it; yes, i will, upon my word of honor. you never knew me fail to return any work you lent me." this we said rather warmly, thinking we detected a somewhat suspicious smile playing round the corner of our friend's mouth. "oh! yes, certainly," replied he; "you can have it with pleasure--though i think your doubts will vanish when you have _looked into it_." we did not notice specially that all eyes were upon us. we carelessly opened the volume, and there, by all the spirits ever bought and sold! was a neat little mirror between the covers of the book, and reflected in it our own lovely countenance. portrait of the gorilla! eh? this was what the boys would call _rather rough_, but every one except ourself seemed to think it quite funny. it was some satisfaction, however, to know that every one of the party had been taken in in like manner before our arrival. a slight but pleasant tinkling now fell upon our ear, and behold! a maiden entered, bearing a tray covered with tall crystal minarets, and transparent goblets, which sparkled and twinkled in the lamplight, followed by a more youthful figure supporting vessels of porcelain and implements of burnished silver, above which wreathed and curled clouds of aromatic incense; or, in other and better words, two hired girls brought in coffee and punch. punch! was it punch, or was it negus, or was it sherbet? we don't know, but it was a pleasant, moderately exhilarating beverage, compounded of whiskey, raspberry syrup, sugar, and orange-flower water, and manufactured by nix, as he subsequently explained, at a cost of about thirty cents per bottle. a few little cakes and some plates of thin, daintily cut slices of bread-and-butter accompanied the beverages, and were handed round with them. we are great believers in eating and drinking at all social gatherings. it is convenient to have something to do with your mouth when you are stumped in the way of conversation. if suddenly asked a puzzling question, or hit in the chest with a sarcasm, what a resource is a glass of wine or cup of coffee, in which to dip your nose whilst you collect your ideas, or recover your breath. besides, they give you something to do, generally, in a small way. they afford opportunities for small attentions, and excuses for rising from your seat, or moving from one part of the room to the other. added to which, wine and coffee and cakes are nice things to take--you have the gratification of an additional sense. then, too, these little things are refreshing, and put you all in good-humor. therefore, for all these good reasons, and many more, we insist on refreshments, and we insist, too, upon some kind of vinous stimulant; this ice-water and doughnut business has been carried altogether too far; had we less of it in our homes, less money would pour into the coffers of the bar-keeper. if persons are teetotallers, all very well; we respect their opinions, and, perhaps, decline their invitations; but for people who have no moral scruples on the subject, to ask you to visit them, and then insist on your drinking red-hot weak green tea, when you are already nervous, perspire readily, have a tender gullet, and hate the confounded stuff any way, is downright tyranny, and the very opposite of all hospitality and true christian charity. however, our friend nix held orthodox views on this question; so all went well. by dint of helping each other to things we did want, and offering each other things we didn't want, with the aid of a cup of coffee for those that liked coffee, and a glass of punch for those who liked punch, not to forget the little cakes, which came in quite handy to nibble at occasionally, we all began to feel wonderfully at our ease, and quite sociable. the conversation did not flag much; but once when it showed a slight tendency to wobble, nix set it in motion again by introducing the subject of optical illusions in connexion with the height of objects. after informing us that a horse's head was exactly as long as a flour-barrel, and that a common stove-pipe hat was as broad across the crown as it was high from the brim to the top (both of which statements were argued pro and con), he drew our attention to the vast difference the position of the shoulders make in a man's height. this he illustrated by walking from the audience with his shoulders in their natural position, until, having traversed half the length of the room, he suddenly raised them, as represented in the accompanying sketches. the effect was quite startling, and very ludicrous. all the male part of the company tried their shoulders at this experiment, even down to freddy nix, a little three-year-old, who, after ducking his head down on his chest, and toddling off across the room, returned swaggering, evidently under the impression that he had made a perfect giant of himself by the operation. [illustration] [illustration] this was nominally a child's party, so we were to have some _performances_. the folding-doors into the adjoining parlor were closed, and one or two members of the company who were to be performers retired. in a few moments the doors opened and revealed an extempore stage. the kitchen clothes-horse, beautifully draped and decorated, formed the background; while on a line with the foot-lights were two heads, one at each side of the stage, intended to represent tragedy and comedy. they were simply two large pumpkins with grotesque faces marked on them with black and white paint. in less than no time a most remarkable-looking stranger stepped forward and began to address us. every one stared, and wondered whence this singular-looking person could have come, for we hardly supposed that nix could have had him secreted in the house all the evening for our special surprise. at last it dawned upon us, one by one, that the individual in question was no other than mr. graham, a very staid gentleman, who had been with us a moment before. the annexed brace of sketches will show the appearance of mr. graham off and on the stage. but how was this change effected? we will explain. in the first place he had procured a narrow strip of black silk, which he had drawn round one of his front teeth, with the two ends inside his mouth, which, at a very short distance, looked exactly as though he had lost one of his teeth. (a little piece of court-plaster stuck on the tooth will answer the same purpose.) then he had made a loop of horse-hair or grey thread, and securing two of the ends to the lining inside his hat, had hooked up the end of his nose with the other; in fact, he had put his nose in a sling. this altered the character of his whole face, so that his own wife would not have known him had she not heard him speak. he now addressed the audience in a long, funny, showmanic rigmarole, of which we only remember the following: "ladies and gentlemen, you have all heard of the ornithorhyncus, which, as you are aware, is a species of duck-billed platypus. you are familiar with the habits and appearance of the ororo wow; and you have listened to the sweet notes of the catomonsterbung; but you are entirely ignorant of the newly-discovered creature known to scientific men as the long-nosed night-howler, or vulgaris pueris cum papyrus capitus. this extraordinary animal is chiefly sugariverous in its diet, though it will eat almost everything when driven by hunger. it is perfectly tame, and will only attack human beings when it feels like it. i will now proceed to exhibit this extraordinary creature, requesting you only not to run pins into the animal, as it does not like that style of thing. bring in the night-howler!!" the last words were addressed in a loud voice to an assistant outside, who immediately appeared, leading an animal such as is represented in the annexed cut. this monster began immediately to emit the most hideous and unearthly noises, as became the night-howler. after walking round among the audience once or twice, the vulgaris pueris retired behind the curtain. the accompanying sketch will explain how the night-howler is made. beyond the boy and the boots and the brown-paper cap, all that is wanted is a rough shawl or large fur cape. the howl is produced by means of one or two instruments, into the construction of which we will in a future chapter initiate our readers. with one of these instruments the most varied tones may be produced, from the grunt of the hog to the most delicate notes of the canary. [illustration] [illustration] the performance now proceeded: the second act being some feats of strength by one of our party who had the necessary physical ability for that kind of display. these embraced the following programme, each feat being announced by mr. showman with some extravagantly pompous title: balancing chair on chin. holding child three years old at arm's length. lying with the head on one chair and the heels on another without any intermediate support, and in this position allowing an apparently heavy but really light trunk to be placed on his chest. the whole wound up by his dancing a negro breakdown to imitation banjo[ ] on the piano, the entire audience patting juba. [ ] should any of our friends not know how to produce an imitation of the banjo on a piano, we may as well inform them that it is done by simply laying a sheet of music over the strings during the performance. now another performer appeared on the stage, dressed in extravagant imitation of the one who had preceded him, and commenced parodying in a still more extravagant style all the motions of the professional acrobat. we expected something grand! after innumerable flourishes he brought forward a small three-pound dumb-bell, laid it on the floor, and, bowing meekly to the audience in different parts of the house, he stooped down as though about to make an immense muscular effort, grasped the dumb-bell, slowly stretched it forth at arm's length, held it there a second or two, and then laid it down again, made a little flourish with his hands, and a low bow, just as they do in the circus after achieving something extra fine. in this way the performer went on burlesquing till we all roared with laughter. when he had retired, a conjuror appeared and exhibited numerous tricks, such as the ring trick, tricks with hat and dice, cup and ball, etc.; but as all these need machinery, we will not describe them at present. one or two, however, we may explain. no. . the performer presented a pack of cards to one of the audience and begged him to select a card; this the performer then took in his own hand, and carried it with its face downward, so that he could not see it, and placed in the middle of the floor of the stage; he then produced a large brown-paper cone, and placed it over the card, and commenced talking to the audience, telling them what he could do and what he could not do: finally he informed the audience that he could make that card pass to any place he or they chose to name. where would they have it? one said one place, one another, till finally he pretended reluctantly to accede to one particularly importunate person's wishes, and declared that it should be found in the leaves of a certain book on a certain table at the back of the audience--and there it was, sure enough. this was done by having a piece of waxed paper attached to a thread lying ready in the middle of the floor; on this waxed paper the conjuror pressed the card, the thread being carried out under the screen at the back, where stood a confederate, who quietly pulled the card out from under the cone, and while the conjuror was talking he walked round, entered by another door, and placed the card in the book, where it was subsequently found. another trick consisted in his allowing a person to draw a card which he was requested to examine carefully, and even to mark slightly with a pencil. while the spectator was doing this, the performer turned round the pack in his hand so as to have all the faces of the cards upwards except the top one, which showed its back; he then desired that the card might be slipped anywhere into the pack; he then shuffled them well. of course, on inspecting the pack he soon detected the selected card, it being the only one with its face down, which, after various manipulations, putting under cones and what not, he returned to the audience much to their surprise. these efforts at legerdemain were certainly not very brilliant, but they amused the audience and were easy to do. we should like to give a few more of his simple tricks, but with one illusion-trick we will close the chapter, for which purpose it will serve, as it formed the _finale_ to the conjuror's performance. he stepped forward and said: "i have shown you many wonderful things, but they are as nothing compared to what i can do. my supernatural power is such that i can lengthen or compress the human frame to any extent i please. you doubt it? well, i will show you. you see mr. smith, yonder; he is a rather tall man; six feet two, i should judge? well, i will throw him into a trance, and while he is in that state, i will squeeze him down to a length of about three feet, and i will have him carried to you in that condition. i must only insist upon one thing, and that is, that you do not say _hokey pokey winkey fumm_ while he is in the trance; for if you do it might wake him up, and then he would be fixed at the height of three feet for the rest of his life; i could never stretch him out again." mr. smith was requested to step behind the curtain. he walked forward, pale but firm and collected. soon after he had disappeared we heard strange noises and fearful incantations, accompanied by a slight smell of brimstone and a strong smell of peppermint. after a few minutes the tall mr. smith was carried in on the shoulders of two men a perfect dwarf, as promised by the conjuror, and as represented in the following cut. [illustration] how this is managed will become tolerably clear to the reader on examining the next diagram. the tall mr. s. had put a pair of boots on his hands, a roll of sheeting round his neck, so as to form something resembling a pillow, behind his head; then something on his arms under his chin to represent his chest (which is not shown in the diagram), and over that a baby's cradle-quilt, and then he rested his boots on another gentleman's shoulders; two long sticks were provided and slung as represented, and the miracle was complete. we have seen the figure lengthened to an inordinate extent by the same process, the only difference being that the gentlemen were further apart. [illustration] mr. nix's party concluded, after several other games and amusements, with a neat but inexpensive entertainment, consisting of sandwiches, sardines, cold chicken, cakes, oranges, apples, nuts, candies, punch, negus, and lemonade. but everything was good of its kind; the sandwiches were sandwiches, and not merely two huge slices of bread plastered with butter, concealing an irregular piece of sinew and fat, which in vain you try to sever with your teeth, till you find yourself obliged to drop the end out of your mouth, or else to pull the whole piece of meat out from between the bread, and allow it to hang on your chin till you cram it all into your mouth at once. his were not sandwiches of that kind, but, as we said before, sandwiches; the cakes had plenty of sugar in them, and so had the lemonade. but, above all, what made these little trifles the most enjoyable was the taste displayed by _some one_ in the decoration of the table with a few evergreens, some white roses made out of turnip, and red roses out of beets, not to mention marigolds that once were carrots, nor the crisp frills of white paper which surrounded the large round cakes, nor the green leaves under the sandwiches, the abundance of snowy linen, shining knives and forks, and spoons. but we must conclude; what we wish particularly to impress upon the minds of our readers by thus _dwelling on sandwiches and fine linen_ is, that you cannot afford to ignore one sense while you propose to gratify another; they are all intimately related and bound together like members of a fire company; if you offend one, all the others take it up. chapter iv. in our last chapter we promised to explain the nature of the little instrument by which the night-howler produced those "hideous and unearthly noises" to which we alluded. we will now proceed to do so; and as this instrument is the same as that used by showmen in the play of punch and judy, we cannot do better, while we are about it, than instruct our readers how to get up a punch and judy show. first, with regard to the instrument. it is a very simple affair: get two small pieces of clean white pine, and with a sharp knife cut them of the shape and size of the diagram marked . then put these two pieces together as represented in figure , having previously slipped between them a piece of common tape, also represented in the diagram (the tape must be just the same width as the wood); then wind some thread round the whole thing lengthwise (to keep the bits of wood together and the tape taut), and the punch-trumpet is made, as represented in figure . place the instrument between your lips and blow; if you cannot produce noise enough to distract any well-regulated family in three-quarters of an hour, we are very much mistaken. [illustration] to produce variety of notes and tones, as well as to speak through it, after the manner of the punch showmen, the instrument must be placed well back in the mouth near the root of the tongue, in such a position that you can blow through it and at the same time retain free use of your tongue. a little practice will enable you to do this, and to pronounce many words in a tolerably understandable manner. to discover this last item in the use of the instrument, simple as it is, cost the writer of this an infinity of trouble and some money; and it was not until after two years' hunting and inquiry, and the employment of agents to hunt up professors of punch and judy, that we discovered an expert who, for a handsome fee, explained the matter; and then, of course, we were amazingly surprised that we had never thought of it before. from the same expert we learned how to make another instrument by means of which it is possible to imitate the note of almost every animal, from the hog to the canary-bird. we soon compassed the hog, the horse, the hen, the dog, the little pig, and something that might be called the horse-linnet, or the hog-canary; but ere long we found that considerable practice was necessary to enable us to accomplish the finer notes of the singing-birds. how to make this latter instrument we will explain in a future chapter; at present we must go on with the play of punch and judy. we commence instructions with a view taken behind the scenes, which will help the description (see cut on page ). we may state that the london showmen carry about with them a species of little theatre of simple construction, which is of course better than a mere door-way; but as the latter will answer the purpose, and many people will not care to make a theatre, we will at present content ourselves with that which every house affords. [illustration: punch and judy, behind the scenes.--_see page ._] in the play of punch and judy there are many characters--indeed, you can introduce almost as great a variety as you please; but the leading ones are: mr. punch, a merry gentleman, of violent and capricious temper. judy (wife of punch). baby (offspring of punch and judy). ghost. constable. the heads of these characters can be made in several ways. the first is to get the necessary number of common round wooden lucifer match-boxes and some red putty. with the putty you make the noses and chins of the characters (all except the ghost, who requires no nose). with a camel's-hair brush and a little india-ink or black paint you mark out the features strongly, taking care to make the eyes and eyeballs of a good size, so as to be seen at a distance. with a little red paint or red chalk you can color the cheeks, and with a little white paint or white chalk give brilliancy to the teeth and eyes. the annexed cut will show what the style of countenance ought to be of each, no. being the constable, no. judy, and no. mr. punch himself. the ghost is not represented. in feature he is much like the constable, only that his face must be made as white as possible, and the features simply marked out in blue or green or black. the baby can be made out of an ordinary clothes-pin or stick of wood. [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] if the match-boxes cannot be easily obtained, just roll up a good-sized card, as represented in this figure, and paint on it the features. the nose and chin can be made of a bit of red rag or paper folded up of the desired shape, and either sewed or gummed on. another and far better way of making these heads (though it takes more trouble), is to get a carpenter to cut out for you four or five pieces of white pine or other fine wood of the shape of the sketch annexed, with a hole in each large enough to easily admit your fore-finger. from this block you can carve as elaborate a head as you please, and one of larger size than the match-box, which will be advantageous. the diagram marked o will show you how to set about making the carving. having now made the bald heads, you must proceed to dress them. punch must have a bright red cap with yellow tassel and binding, like the one in the accompanying sketch. judy must have a white cap with broad frill and black ribbon. the constable must have a wig made out of some scrap of fur (the remains of a tippet or cuff), or if fur cannot be procured, a piece of rope unravelled will make a good wig. the ghost only requires his winding-sheet drawn over his head. all these can be nailed on the heads of the actors with small tacks without hurting their feelings. [illustration] having got the heads complete, we will proceed to construct their bodies. these merely consist of empty garments, the operator's hand supplying the bone and sinew. the dresses must be neatly fastened round the neck of the head, so that when the performer puts his hand inside the dress, he can thrust his fore-finger into the hole in the head. they must of course be sufficiently large to admit the hand of the showman, each sleeve to admit a thumb or finger, and the neck large enough for the passage of the fore-finger. thus the thumb represents one arm, the middle finger another arm, whilst the fore-finger, thrust into the head, supports and moves it about. the style of dress of punch and judy can be easily seen in the small sketch. the color of punch's coat should be red, with yellow facings, with a hump sewed on his back and a paunch in front. judy should have a spotted calico and white neck-handkerchief. the constable had better be attired in black, and the ghost and baby in white. each of the sleeves should have a hand fastened into it. the hands can be made of little slips of wood, with fingers and thumbs marked on them. they should be about two and a half or three inches long, only about three-quarters of an inch of which, however, will project beyond the sleeve; the rest, being inside, will serve to give stiffness to the arm when the performer's fingers are not long enough to reach the whole way. [illustration] mr. punch requires a club wherewith to beat his wife, and to perform his various other assaults and batteries. a gallows, too, should be provided, on the plan represented in the diagram, the use of which will be explained hereafter. so much for the performers. now for the theatre and the play. the theatre is easily made. a narrow board about three or four inches wide should be fixed across an open doorway just about one inch higher up than the top of the head of the exhibitor. from this board hangs a curtain long enough to reach the floor. behind this curtain stands the operator, with his actors all ready on a chair or table at his side. he puts his punch-trumpet in his mouth, gives one or two preliminary _root-et-too-teet-toos_, puts his hand fairly inside mr. punch's body, and hoists him up so that half his manly form may be seen above the screen. a glance at our picture, behind the scenes, will explain anything our words have failed to convey. the audience are of course on the opposite side of the curtain to which the performer stands. before we commence with the dialogue of the play, we must mention one very important part of the exhibition. as mr. punch's voice is, at the best of times, rather husky, it is necessary that the exhibitor should have a colleague or interpreter among the audience who knows the play by heart, and who, from practice, can understand what mr. punch says better than the audience. this person must repeat after punch whatever he may say, only not to wound his feelings; he must do so in the form of questions--for example, suppose mr. punch says, "oh! i've got such a pretty baby!" the showman outside must repeat: "oh! you've got a pretty baby, mr. punch, have you? where is she?" the outside showman ought to have some instrument to play on--a tin tea-tray or tin pan will do--and if there is any one to accompany him on the piano when mr. punch sings a song or dances, so much the better. now for the play. mr. punch makes his _début_ by dancing round his small stage in an extravagant and insane manner, singing some rollicking song in his own peculiar style. having indulged himself in this way for a few seconds, he pulls up suddenly, and looking over the edge of the screen at the showman outside, exclaims: _punch._ "i say, old hoss!" _showman._ "i say, 'old hoss!' mr. punch, that's not a very polite way to address a gentleman. well, what do you say?" _p._ "i say!" _s._ "well, what do you say?" _p._ "i say!" _s._ "well, you've said 'i say!' twice before. what is it you have to say?" _p._ "i say!" _s._ "what?" _p._ "nothing particular!" mr. punch dances off, hilariously singing. _s._ "nothing particular! well, that is a valuable communication." _p._ (stopping again). "oh, you april fool!" _s._ "april fool? no, mr. punch, i'm not an april fool. this isn't the first of april." _p._ "isn't it? well, salt it down till next year." _s._ "salt it down till next year? no, thankee, mr. punch. guess you'll want it for your own use." _p._ "mr. showman!" _s._ "well, mr. punch?" _p._ "have you seen my wife?" _s._ "seen your wife? no, mr. punch." _p._ "she's such a pretty creature!" _s._ "such a pretty creature, eh? well, i'd like to be introduced." _p._ "she's such a beauty! she's got a nose just like mine" (touching his snout with his little hand). _s._ "got a nose just like yours, eh? well, then, she must be a beauty." _p._ "she's not quite so beautiful as me, though." _s._ "not so beautiful as you? no, of course not, mr. punch; we couldn't expect that." _p._ "you're a very nice man. i like you." _s._ "well, i'm glad you like me, mr. punch." _p._ "shall i call my wife?" _s._ "yes, by all means call your wife, mr. punch." _p._ (calling loudly). "judy! judy, my dear! judy! come up-stairs!" judy now makes her appearance. punch draws back and stands gazing at her for a few minutes in mute admiration. without moving, he exclaims: "what a beauty!" then, turning to the audience, he asks earnestly: "isn't she a beauty?" he now turns to judy and asks her for a kiss; they approach and hug each other in a prolonged embrace, mr. punch all the time emitting a species of gurgling sound expressive of rapture. this is repeated several times, interspersed with the remarks of mr. punch on the beauty of his spouse; after which, at mr. _p._'s suggestion, the couple dance together to lively music and the enlivening tones of mr. _p._'s voice; the performance winding up by mr. punch's leaning up against the door of the theatre exhausted and delighted, and giving vent to a prolonged chuckle of gratification. punch now turns to the showman and asks him if he has ever seen his baby. the showman replying in the negative, punch extols the beauty of his offspring in the same extravagant strain as he has already done that of his wife, makes the same comparison between his own and the baby's nose, declares that the baby never cries, and that she is "_so fond of him_." the baby is now ordered to be brought up-stairs, and judy disappears to obey her lord's mandate. during her absence punch favors the company with a song. when judy returns, bearing the infant punch in her arms, mr. p. goes into raptures, calls it a pretty creature, pats its cheek, and goes through all the little endearing ceremonies common to fathers. after again informing the showman that his baby never cries, and is fondly attached to him, he takes the infant in his arms, whereupon she immediately sets up a continuous howl. punch tries to hush and pacify it for some time, but at last, losing his temper, shakes it violently and throws it out of the window, or in other words, at the feet of the audience. judy is of course distracted, weeps bitterly, and upbraids her husband, when the enraged mr. punch dives down-stairs and gets his club, and whilst mrs. p. is still weeping, gives her three or four sound blows on the back of the head. this makes mrs. p. cry still more, which, in turn, increases mr. p.'s wrath, who ends by beating her to death and throwing her after the baby. the showman upbraids punch with his crime, but punch defends himself by saying it served her right. however, he finally admits that he is naturally a little hasty, but then he adds, "it's over in a minute," and that's the kind of disposition he likes. he further adds: _p._ "i'm a proud, sensitive nature." _s._ "you're a proud, sensitive nature, are you, mr. punch? i don't see much pride in killing a baby." _p._ "that's because you don't understand the feelings of a gentleman." _s._ "because i don't understand the feelings of a gentleman? well, if those are the feelings of a gentleman, i don't want to understand them, mr. punch." this dialogue can be carried on to suit the taste and invention of the exhibitor. presently, while mr. p. is recklessly glorying in his crime, declaring that he is afraid of nothing, and laughing to scorn the showman's admonition, the ghost makes his appearance close to mr. _p._'s shoulder, and stands there for some time, listening unobserved to punch's brag. after a while, however, turning round, punch catches sight of him, and is rooted to the spot with horror for a few seconds; then he retreats backwards, his whole body trembling violently, till he reaches the side of the theatre; here he turns round slowly to hide his face from the awful apparition. when, by turning away, he loses sight of the ghost for a few seconds, he recovers his voice so far as to say to the showman in trembling tones: "w-h-h-a-a-t a hor-r-r-rid creature! what an awful creature!" then he turns round very slowly to see whether the "horrid creature" is gone, but finding it still there, suddenly jumps back--jambs himself up in the corner--pokes his head out of the window, and screams, "murder! murder! murder!" shaking all the time violently. this he repeats several times, till at last the ghost disappears. then mr. p. recovers his courage and swaggers about as before, vowing he is afraid of nothing, etc., etc. now appears on the stage the constable, who twists himself about in a pompous style for some seconds, and then addressing mr. punch, says: _constable._ "i've come to take you up!" _p._ "and i've come to knock you down!" (which he accordingly does with his club). the constable gets up, and is again knocked down several times in succession. not relishing this style of thing, however, he disappears and returns with a club, and a battle royal ensues, part of which--that is to say, one round of the battle--shows the skill of the constable in dodging mr. p.'s blows, and can be made immensely funny if properly performed. it is done in this way: the constable stands perfectly still, and punch takes deliberate aim; but when he strikes, the constable bobs down quickly, and the blow passes harmlessly over his head. this is repeated frequently, the constable every now and then retaliating on mr. p.'s "nob" with effect. not succeeding with the sabre-cut, punch tries the straight or rapier thrust. he points the end of his _baton_ straight at the constable's nose, and after drawing back two or three times to be sure of his aim, makes a lunge; but the constable is too quick, dodges on one side, and punch's club passes innocently out of the window. this is repeated several times, till the constable sails in and gives punch a whack on the head, crying: "there's a topper!" punch returns the compliment with the remark: "there's a whopper!" now they have a regular rough and tumble, in which punch is vanquished. the constable disappears and returns with the gallows, which he sticks up in a hole already made in the stage (four-inch board previously mentioned), and proceeds to prepare for the awful ceremony of hanging mr. p. punch, never having been hung before, cannot make out how the machine is intended to operate--at least he feigns profound ignorance on the subject. when the constable tells him to put his head into the noose, he puts it in the wrong place over and over again, inquiring each time, "that way?" till at last the executioner, losing all patience, puts his own head in the loop, in order to show mr. p. how to do it, saying: "there! that's the way! now do you understand?" to which punch responds, "oh! that's the way, is it?" at the same time pulling the end of the rope tight, and holding on to it till the struggling functionary is dead, crying all the time: "oh! that's the way, is it? now i understand!" punch dances a triumphant jig, and so ends the _immoral_ drama of punch and judy. many more characters can be added at the option of the performer, besides which, jokes and riddles can be introduced to any extent. we have given the skeleton of the play, with all the necessary information for getting up the characters. we will conclude this chapter with an excellent charade, the answer to which will be given in the next chapter: charade. my whole is the name of the school-boy's dread, my first is the name of a quadruped; my first transposed a substance denotes, which in carts or in coaches free motion promotes; transpose it again, and it gives you the key which leads to the results of much industry. my second is that which deforms all the graces which cluster around the fair maidens' fair faces; transpose it, and it gives you the name of a creature of no little notice in the history of nature. now take my whole in transposition, and it will give you the dress of a scotch musician. chapter v. [illustration] heretofore the fireside amusements recorded by us have been rather masculine in their character. in this chapter we shall have the pleasure of describing an entertainment of more feminine qualities. it was a small party, of the description which the scotch call a cookeyshine, the english a tea-fight, and we a sociable. a few young ladies in a country village had conspired together to pass a pleasant evening, and the head conspirator wrote us a note, which consisted of several rows of very neat snake-rail fences (not "rail snake" fences, as the irishman said), running across a pink field. we got over the fences easily, and found ourselves in a pretty parlor, with six pretty young ladies, one elderly ditto, and a kind of father. the ladies, as we entered, were engaged in making tasty little scent-bags. we had often seen the kind of thing before, but never so completely carried out. [illustration] the principal idea consisted in making miniature mice out of apple-seeds, nibbling at a miniature sack of flour. but in this case they had filled the sack with powdered orris-root, and the small bottles with otto of roses, making altogether a very fragrant little ornament. the subjoined sketch will convey the idea to any one wishing to try her hand at this kind of art. as to the process of manufacture, that is simple enough: you first make neat little bags of white muslin, and with some blue paint (water color) mark the name of the perfume, in imitation of the ordinary brands on flour-bags; then fill the bag with sachet-powder and tie it up. you then get some well-formed apple-seeds, and a needle filled with brown thread or silk with a knot at the end; after which pass the needle through one side of the small end of the seed, and out through the middle of the big end; then cut off your thread, leaving about half an inch projecting from the seed; this represents the tail of the mouse. after this you make another knot in your thread, and pass it through the opposite side of the small end of the seed, bringing it out, not where you did the other thread, but in the middle of the lower part, that part, in fact, which represents the stomach of the mouse. you can now sew your mouse on the flour-sack. it should be borne in mind that the two knots of thread, which represent the ears, must appear near the small end of the seed. we once saw some mice made of apple-seeds where the ears were placed at the big end, producing the most ridiculous effect. we annex enlarged diagrams of each style. it will be seen that one looks like a mouse, whilst the other resembles a pollywog, or a newly-hatched dragon. [illustration] you must now get a good-sized card, and if you wish to have it _very nice_, paint it to resemble the boards of a floor. on this you sew your sack, and one or two stray mice who are supposed to be running round loose. then having provided yourself with a couple of those delicate little glass bottles of about an inch and a half in length, which are to be found in most toy-stores, you fill them with otto of roses or any other perfume; and with a little strong glue or gum, stick them to the card in the position represented. if glass bottles are not to be obtained, you may cut some out of wood, a small willow stick perhaps being the best for the purpose; blacken them with ink, and varnish them with weak gum-water, at the same time sticking on them little pieces of paper to represent the labels, and, if you please, a little lead-paper round the neck and mouth of the bottles, to give the flasks a champagney flavor. the boxes and jars are likewise cut out of wood, and easily painted to produce the desired appearance. after a time, while the young ladies were still at work on the mice like so many kittens at play, a practical young gentleman, in spectacles and livid hands, came in, and asked _of what use were those articles_. upon which one of the young ladies very properly replied that they did not waste their time in making anything _useful_. this seemed to afford an opportunity to the young gentleman to say something agreeable in connection with _beauty_; but he put his foot in it, and we heard him late in the evening, as the party was breaking up, trying to explain his compliment, which, though well intended, had unfortunately taken the form of an insult, and had not been well received. we had observed, on entering, that one of the young ladies present wore in her hair a very beautiful white rose, and that another held in her hand a small bunch of marigolds. as the season was mid-winter, this fact attracted our attention, and we very gracefully complimented said damsel on the beauty of her _coiffure_, at the same time expressing our ardent admiration for flowers generally, roses particularly, and white roses above all other roses. "we had made a study of them." we spoke rapturously of them as the poetry of vegetation, as _vestals among flowers, as the emblems of purity, the incarnation of innocence_. then the young lady asked us how we liked them _boiled_, and taking the one from her head begged us to wear it next our heart for her sake. we received it reverentially at her hand--it was heavy as lead. her somewhat ambiguous language immediately explained itself as she gaily stripped off the leaves and revealed a good-sized turnip-stock on a wooden skewer. we felt slightly embarrassed, but got over the difficulty by saying that when we spoke so poetically we had no idea what would turn-up. "ah!" sighed one of the young ladies, "it is the way of the world; the flower worshipped from afar, possessed, will ever turn out a turnip!" "or," added we, "as in the case of cinderella's humble vegetable turn up, a turnout." this inoffensive little joke, being rather far-fetched, perhaps, was immediately set upon and almost belabored to death by those who understood it; whilst for the enlightenment of those who did not, we had to travel all the way to fairy-land, so that it was some time before we got back to vegetable flowers--a subject on which we felt not a little anxious to be enlightened, as we saw therein something that might interest our friends who meet by the fireside and help us in our occupation of unbending the bow. marvellously simple were the means employed in producing such beautiful results. a white turnip neatly peeled, notched all round, stuck upon a skewer, and surrounded by a few green leaves, and behold a most exquisite white rose, perfect enough to deceive the eye in broad daylight at three feet distance. the above sketch will explain the whole mystery at once. [illustration: rose in process of making.] [illustration: rose completed.] on the same principle a marigold may be cut out of a round of carrot with a little button of beet-root for the centre; a daisy can be made from a round of parsnip with a small button of carrot for the centre; a dahlia from a beet; and several other flowers from pumpkins. it will be easily seen that a beautiful bouquet can be compiled of these flowers with the addition of a few sprigs of evergreen. indeed, great taste and ingenuity may be displayed in managing these simple materials. when the process had been explained to us, as above described, we expressed our delight, at the same time saying carelessly that there were doubtless millions of ladies in the country who would find pleasure in learning so graceful an accomplishment. the gentleman with the gold spectacles was down upon us in a moment. "did we know what a million meant?" to which we promptly replied that a million meant ten hundred thousand. "did we know what a billion meant?" a billion, according to webster, was a million million. a light twinkled out of the gold spectacles, and a glow suffused the expansive forehead, as, with a certain playful severity, he propounded the following: "how long would it take you to count a million million, supposing you counted at the rate of two hundred per minute for twenty-four hours per day?" we replied, after a little reflection, that it would take a long time, probably over six months. with a triumphant air, the gold spectacles turned to our friend nix. nix, who is a pretty good accountant, thought it would take nearer six years than six months. one young lady, who was not good at figures, felt sure _she_ could do it in a week. gold spectacles exhibited that intense satisfaction which the mathematical mind experiences when it has completely obfuscated the ordinary understanding. "why, sir," he said, turning to us, "had you been born on the same day as adam, and had you been counting ever since, night and day, without stopping to eat, drink, or sleep, you would not have more than accomplished half your task." this statement was received with a murmur of incredulous derision, whilst two or three financial gentlemen, immediately seizing pen and paper, began figuring it out, with the following result: number counted per minute. minutes in an hour. ----- number counted per hour. hours in a day. ------ ------ number counted per day. days in the year. -------- --------- number counted per year. from this calculation we see that by counting steadily, night and day, at the rate of two hundred per minute, we should count something over one hundred and five millions in a year. now let us proceed with the calculation: , ( , ) , , , ( , ( , years. , ------- , , ------- , , ------- , , ------ , so that it would take nine thousand five hundred and twelve years, not to mention several months, to count a billion. gold spectacles chuckled visibly, and for the rest of the evening gave himself airs more worthy of a conquered southerner than a victorious mathematician. he afterwards swooped down upon and completely doubled up a pompous gentleman bearing the cheerful name of peter coffin, for making use of the very proper phrase, "as clear as a mathematical demonstration." "that may not be very clear, after all, mr. coffin," said gold spectacles. "how is that, mr. sprawl (gold specks' proper name being sprawl); can anything be clearer than a mathematical demonstration?" "i think, sir," answered mr. sprawl, "i could _mathematically demonstrate_ to you that one is equal to two. what would you think of that, sir?" "i think you couldn't do it, sir." thereupon mr. sprawl took a sheet of paper and wrote down the following equation--the celebrated algebraic paradox: _a_ = _x_ _a_ _x_ = _x_^{ } _a_ _x_ - _a_^{ } = _x_^{ } - _a_^{ } (_x_ - _a_) × _a_ = (_x_ - _a_) × (_x_ + _a_) _a_ = _x_ + _a_ _a_ = _a_ = mr. coffin examined it carefully standing up, and examined it carefully sitting down, and then handed it back, saying that mr. sprawl had certainly proved one to be equal to two. the paper was passed round, and those learned enough scrutinized it carefully. the _demonstration_ all allowed to be positive, yet no one could be made to admit the _fact_. here a certain married lady avowed her great delight in knowing that _one_ had at last been _proved_ equal to _two_. she had been for years, she said, trying to convince her husband of this fact, but he always obstinately refused to listen to the voice of reason. she now trusted he would not have the effrontery to fly in the face of an _algebraic paradox_. seeing the talk had taken an arithmetical turn, and was moreover getting fearfully abstruse, our friend nix thought he would gently lead the tide of conversation into some shallower channel, wherein the young ladies might dabble their pretty feet without danger of being swept away in the scientific torrent. to this end he submitted the well known problem: "what is the difference between six dozen dozen and half a dozen dozen?" strange to say, no one present had ever before heard of it, but the best part of the joke consisted in mr. sprawl being completely taken by it. "why, they are both the same," he answered promptly. all the rest seemed to think so too, and some could not get into their heads, although poor nix spent half an hour trying to convince them, that half a dozen dozen was the same thing as six dozen, or ; whilst six dozen dozen must of course be seventy-two dozen, or . while nix still spoke, a handmaiden appeared, bearing tinkling cups and vessels of aromatic tea (not the weak green kind, bear in mind), and plates of sweet cookies and toast, and then bread and butter, and steaming waffles, and divers and sundry other delicacies known to true housewives and good christian women, who love their fellow-creatures and respect their organs of digestion. as the tea is being served, we walk up to a young gentleman and ask him if he knows why the blind man was restored to sight when he drank tea. the young gentleman _gave it up_ precipitately. "because he took his cup and saucer (saw sir)." the gentleman in gold spectacles says something about our being a _sorcerer_, but we heed him not, fearing he may put us through another algebraic paradox. then comes a general demand for the answer to the charade we published in our last chapter, which commenced: "my whole is the name of a school-boy's dread." "the answer to this, ladies, is rattan; and you will find it," said we, "a most excellent charade for children." now commenced a grand festival of puzzles and riddles. specimens of all kinds were trotted out for inspection, from the ponderous construction of our ancestors, commencing in some such style as, "all round the house, through the house, and never touching the house," etc., to the neatly turned modern con. our friend nix asked why moses and the jews were the best-bred people in the world? another wished to know why meat should always be served rare? both these individuals, however, refused to give the solution until the next meeting of the assembled company. others were more obliging, but as their riddles were mostly old friends, somebody knew the answers and revealed them. it is a mistake to suppose that a good thing ought not to be repeated more than once. there are certain funny things that we remember for the last twenty years, and yet we never recall them without enjoying a hearty laugh. we have read holmes's _autocrat of the breakfast-table_ once every six months, ever since it was published, and enjoy it better each time. we have been working away at the _sparrowgrass papers_ for years, and yet we raise just as good a crop of laughter from them as ever. these books resemble some of our rich western lands: they are inexhaustible. so when one of the company asked, "when does a sculptor die of a fit?" we waited quietly for the answer, "when he makes faces and busts," and laughed as heartily as though it were quite new, although we had been intimate with the old con ever since it was made, some fifteen years ago. we even enjoyed the time-honored riddle: "what was joan of arc made of?" "why, she was maid of orleans, of course." but then this was put by a seraph with amber eyes, and a very bewildering way of using them. the success attending this effort seemed to stimulate the gentleman in gold spectacles, who rushed into the arena with the inquiry: "what was eve made for?" most of us knew the answer well enough, but we waited politely to let him deliver it himself. our surprise may be readily conceived when he informed us, with evident glee, that "she was made for harnden's express company." some looked blank, and others tittered, whilst nix explained to the ladies the true solution. it was for adam's express company that eve was made. after this followed in quick succession a shower of riddles, some of them so abominably bad, that an old gentleman, who did not seem to take kindly to that sort of amusement, gave the finishing-stroke to the entertainment by the annexed: question. "why is an apple-tart like a slipper?" answer. "because you can put your foot in it--if you like." after that we all went home. chapter vi. a friend of ours, dudley wegger, who recently gave an extemporaneous entertainment, amongst other things, devised a new kind of play, of such exceedingly simple construction that we have judged it expedient to put it on record. it must be observed that it is his _method_ especially which we applaud and recommend, and further be it observed, that we applaud and recommend it on account of no other excellence save that of simplicity. mr. wegger possessed the power of imitating one or two popular actors. he had read our instructions on _make-up_--viz.: curled hair, turn-up nose, high shoulders, etc., and from these slender materials he made the body of his play. as soon as we arrived, he seized upon ourself, dragged us into a back room, put a hideous mask on our face (which smelt painfully of glue and brown paper, by the way), and then commanded us to don sundry articles of female attire--to wit, a hat and gown. to our earnest appeals as to what we were to do, he only replied: "oh, nothing; just come on the stage, kick about, and answer my questions. you hold the stage and talk to the audience, whilst i go off and change my dress." this we pledged ourself to do, and were nearly suffocated in the mask as a consequence. when the curtain rose, wegger marched on the stage attired in blue coat, brass buttons, striped pantaloons, yellow vest, and stylish hat stuck on one side. in his hand he held a small walking-cane, with which he frequently slapped his leg. this was the walking-gentleman part. "egad! here i am at last, after the fastest run across country on record. slipped the billies, took flying hollow at a leap, gave my admirable aunt the go-by, extracted the governor's lynch-pin, sent them all sprawling in the ditch, just in time to be picked up by old hodge, the carrier, jogging along with his blind mare and rumbling old shandrydan. gad, mortimer, you are a sad rogue! i must turn over a new leaf, ecod! become steady, forget kissing and claret, go to church, read the _times_, and in fact, become a respectable member of society. ah, ha, ha! what has brought me here? gad, i deserve success. heard from my valet last night that certain lady just come into immense fortune; lovely as she is wealthy, venus and an heiress; total stranger, no means of procuring introduction; hired coach and four, gave post-boy guinea, told drive like devil, and here i am in a strange country, a strange house, and amongst strange people, to kill or conquer, _veni, vidi, vici_! ha! ha! ha! first in the field--fair start and a free run; back myself at long odds to be in at the death. but gad! here she comes, the country hebe, the pastoral venus, the naiad of turnip-tops and mangel-wurzel. enter _heiress_ (ourself). gad! she is a devilish fine-looking woman. i must approach her (_advances_). have i the honor to address the lady cicily de rhino?" _lady cicily de rhino._ "you get eout!" _mortimer_ (aside). "charming! gad! i am over head and ears in love already. oh, bright divinity, why hide those radiant charms in sylvan shades, when charms of fashion and bon-ton beckon you away! with me your life shall be one live-long summer's day, and you and i two butterflies sipping sweet nectar from the ruby rims of endless brimming goblets. say you'll be mine! a chaise awaits us, and on the wings of love we'll fly away! say, charmer, say the word, and i am your slave for life." _lady cicily de rhino._ "wal, slavery's bin abolished even in new jersey--guess you forgot that. however, i don't keer if i do; jist hold on till i git my things." [exit. _mortimer._ "gad! i took the citadel by storm--but some one approaches; i must withdraw for a moment." [withdraws. re-enter _lady c._, with bundle and umbrella. _lady c._ "wal, if the young man arn't gone; now that's mean." enter _reginald spooneigh_ (wegger, in a new dress). _reginald._ "kynde fortune has thrown me in the angel's path. the belue skuye already smyles more beounteously on my poor fate. fayer laydee, turn not away those gentle eyes, that e'en the turtle-dove might sigh, and dying, envy, envying, die of envy." _lady c._ "oh, git eout!" _reginald._ "say not so, fair laydee. a wanderer on this cruel earth, a lover of the sweet songs of birds, the murmuring of streams, the gay garb of nature, from mighty mountain-tops to rustling glens. i bring an aching spirit seeking sympathy to thee." _lady c._ "dew tell!" _reginald._ "a sympathetic heart within your bosom burns; say, let it beat in unison with mine?" _lady c._ "well, i don't keer if i do; only hurry up, there's some one coming." _reginald._ "coming? sayest though; then will i retire for a brief space." [retires. _lady c._ "he seems a pretty nice kind or young man, tho' he ain't got so much style into him as tother feller. wal, them folks didn't come this way arter all, so he'd no call to be so scart," etc., etc. enter _general hab-grabemall_ (wegger again). _general._ "thunder and mars! i thought i should never have got here. road as dusty as a canteen of ashes; coach as slow as a commissary mule. had half a mind to bivouac on the roadside--make a fire of the axletrees, and roast the postilion for dinner. but shells and rockets! i must beat up the quarters of this fair one, or some jackanapes civilian will be stealing a march upon me (sees _lady c._). gad! there she is! i must make a charge on her left wing. hey! my little beauty, here's a battered old soldier, wounded everywhere except in his heart, crying surrender at your first fire. he yields himself prisoner-of-war, and gives up his untarnished sword to you and you alone." _lady c._ "wal, i ain't no use for swords, and there are summeny solgers straggling round now with old weppins--" _general._ "i have fought for my king and country through many a burning summer noon, and many an arctic winter night, and now i would plant my laurels in the sunshine of your eyes, that they may bring forth bright blossoms." _lady c._ "wal, if them's the case, they makes a difference." _general_ (aside). "now for a bold charge! (aloud). share, oh fairest of your sex, my niche in the temple of fame, my hand and heart as true as steel. say, will you accept a rough old soldier's hand and a major-general's cocked hat." _lady c._ "wal, i don't mind if i dew, only don't you fool me as them other fellers did." _general._ "what, blood and ouns! have any fellers dared to fool the fairest of her sex. i will demand satisfaction; where are they?" [exit. _lady c._ "i want to know! ef the genrl ain't gone off to whip them two fellers! o my! won't there be a muss, jest. but lor! he'd no call to be so mad about it. i didn't keer. (_sings_)--"when the moon is on the mountain, my heart it is with you, and stirring thoughts come stirring up the extra oyster stew." enter _adolphus tinkletop_ (wegger again). _adolphus._ "well i declare, if here ain't a feminine young woman of the female persuasion a-singing a song. go on, most charming of your sex, and i'll jine in the chorus. but hold! pause--be calm, tinkletop: this must be she, the lovely heiress i have come in search of. the young and lovely female heiress, who has just dropt into a very large fortune in silver and gold, sing tooral lol, looral, lol looral le day. tinkletop, my boy, you are a lucky fellow. i think i may venture to remark, without any immediate dread of contradiction, that i am an exceedingly fortunate individual. i must put on my most insinuating manner without further procrastination, which is the thief of time. ah! ahem! how shall i begin? ahem! how de do, my dear? how's the folks?" _lady c._ "purty well; how's yourself?" _adolphus._ "oh! i'm exceedingly well; remarkably well; excessively well. i've quite got over that pain in my chest." _lady c._ "ye don't say!" _adolphus._ "fact! hembold's cosmos cured me immediately, if not sooner. oh, yes! i'm all right, thank ye. but excuse me, young woman. i've come down here on a little matter of business of the highest importance. your name is lady cicily rhino?" _lady c._ "wal, 'taint nothin' else." _adolphus._ "that is precisely what i want to arrive at. i am in the dry-goods business, than which there is no higher social position in the world. i am not rich, but i expect to be. of my personal appearance you can form a more just and adequate opinion than any language of mine could convey. in other words, i am more easily conceived than described. now, the question is, whether you will accept my hand and heart." _lady c._ "wal, i don't keer if i do." _adolphus._ "most charming little pippetsy poppetsy; let me embrace those virgin lips." _lady c._ "oh, lor! now wait a minute." (turns her head away bashfully, and puts up her umbrella. both parties retire behind the umbrella, when a loud smack is heard--such a smack as has been compared to the noise produced by a horse dragging his foot out of a mud-hole. then both strike an attitude with the umbrella between them, and the curtain descends in a blaze of red light.) the end. now if this is not a simple way of building a drama, we are no judge. our adjoining illustration represents the interview between general hab-grabemall and the lady. the general acquires a gigantic appearance by tying a folded shawl or small pillow on each shoulder before he puts on his cloak; his face is made up chiefly of curled hair and diachylon. reginald spooneigh has long flaxen hair, made out of some rope unravelled for the purpose, and sewed on to a tightly-fitting cap, moustache and beard to match, and turn-down collar. the rest of his attire may be in any style most convenient. mr. tinkletop is remarkable for a red nose, turned up, and one tooth missing (both according to our prescription given in a previous chapter). his vest and cravat are of bright colors, and his coat also, if possible. [illustration: private theatricals.--_see page ._] chapter vii. mankind in general, and we modern americans in particular, are perpetually striving to come a "gouge game" over nature. we feel that this expression is very slangy and low-lived, but as none other seems so precisely to convey our idea, we must for once borrow a phrase from the ring and the race-course. so we repeat that we are, most of us, perpetually striving to "gouge" nature; but nature is too smart for us, and will not allow herself to be fooled by any clumsy device it is in our power to invent. nature starts us in the business of life with a certain amount of capital in mental, physical, and nervous power; and just so much capacity for enjoyment; and we, instead of investing this in the best manner to produce the largest legitimate amount of interest, are perpetually engaged in trying some "dodge" whereby we may spend the capital and still draw the interest. a young man starts in business with the resolution that he will make a fortune in such and such a number of years, and then he will retire while he is still young, and lead the most glorious life mortal ever knew. and so he _pitches in_, buys, sells, wheedles, bullies, tricks, cheats, works night and day, without any let-up at all. there will be plenty of time, he thinks, for recreation when he has made his fortune. then he will go to europe, build himself a house on the hudson, buy the fastest pair of horses, cultivate society, purchase pictures, and be supremely happy. the years trot on, but the hopeful man finds it is slower work making a _pile_ than he thought; or perhaps he raises his figure, so he sets to work with renewed vigor. his nerves are allowed no rest to recover their tone; his stomach is allowed no leisure to perform its work; his body gets no healthful exercise; and his soul no ray of light from the beautiful and lovable. "there will be time for all these things by and by, when he has made that two hundred thousand dollars." at last the sum is made, though our hopeful man is a few years older than he intended he should be on retiring. still the money is made, and he is going to enjoy it. he builds himself a fine house in the country, with "lots of style into it," and plants around it a number of small trees, which will be of decent size about twenty years after he is buried. but that is of no consequence--there is beautiful scenery all around. but what is this the rich man discovers? why, that the trees and hills and streams are not the same that they were when he was young. he finds, too, that pictures "don't amount to much." he is rather nervous about driving fast horses; and as to society, he has got quite out of the way of that whilst making his fortune. he finds that collecting round one congenial and agreeable people is a work of time and care, besides which, there is no society in the country any way. then his wife hates the country. so our rich man sells his house in the country, returns to the city, and enters into some new business operations just to pass the time away; having made the melancholy discovery that whilst engaged in acquiring means, he has lost the capacity for enjoyment. the fact is, nature will not stand much nonsense. if you think you are going to work her without mercy or consideration the best part of your life, and then expect that she will gaily bear you on her back, sporting through valleys of delight, you are very much mistaken. another man thinks he will get the maximum enjoyment out of life by aid of wine, and so he mortgages his whole capacity of enjoyment for a few years' excessive excitement, and is amazingly surprised when he finds himself a bankrupt. nature will not cash his draft at any price. he is not aware that every thrill of pleasure derived from excessive stimulating has to be paid for with usury. others again fancy they will get ahead of nature by forcing the minds of their children as they would cucumbers; but after an incalculable amount of trouble, expense, and cruelty, the child comes of age a bankrupt, mentally and physically. the soil has run out; it can produce no more--and what wonder! it was never allowed to lie fallow; it was never renewed; and now it is fit for little or nothing. these are some of the ways in which we attempt to _gouge_ nature. we overtax her in every way, until we _drive the willing horse to death_, and then our journey ends; all the load of fine goods we have been to market for, must be dumped into the mud for the next traveller coming along with a fresh horse. now, one great aim of this book on "fireside amusements," is to persuade people to let up on nature. we should all be so much healthier, so much kinder, so much better christians, if we would only amuse ourselves and each other a good deal more. we should get such infinitely better work out of ourselves, and more of it, so that we should be richer into the bargain. no man can expect to win the race with a jaded horse. suppose you owned flora temple, and in your eagerness to make money, should oblige her to run two or three races every day; why, the chances are you would lose every time, and soon be a beggar. but suppose you only match her at proper intervals, when she is fresh and in good condition; you don't run so many races, but you win every time. why should you treat yourself so much worse than a horse? is it because you are ----? no, you have simply adopted a bad national custom. aunty delluvian gives a party. we have a female relative whom we have playfully christened aunty delluvian--an old-fashioned person, who is particularly opposed to all "new-fangled notions," who loves the "good old times" and "good old ways;" who thinks there are no young men nowadays to compare with those of her day. she tells how straight they used to carry themselves, and she draws herself bolt upright and throws back her shoulders to give effect to her words, and "they didn't wear those nasty things--pshaw!--over their lips." she has never become reconciled to moustaches. she thinks, too, the girls are not so pretty nowadays as they used to be; then, their cheeks were so bright and red, "just like roses," and their eyes were so bright they fairly snapped and twinkled; "but now, my dear, it's all dough and boiled gooseberries--dough and boiled gooseberries!" she tells us, too, of many persons, long since gone, among whom stands, out in bold relief and heroic proportions one 'squire dexter. then there is another person, sally mason, of whom we hear repeatedly, who must have been a very deceitful character, from what aunty delluvian tells us. but why does she take such pains to tell us so much about sally mason, and to convince us that she was not pretty "one mite," only "she had those forward, pushing ways with her, my dear, which men find out sooner or later, my dear, and 'squire dexter found her out at last, to his sorrow." why does she tell us this, and ask our opinion as to whether getting into a seat in a gig, which had been expressly reserved for another person, was not conduct unworthy of a girl of proper modesty and self-respect? when we answer, as we invariably do, with feigned surprise that such conduct "would be unpardonable," she straightens herself up, saying: "well, my dear, sally mason did just that thing!" why does aunty delluvian consult us on this point, and many other trivial points concerning the proper conduct of a "modest, right-minded maiden?" it is hard to say. but, though we laugh and quizz aunty delluvian about many things, we feel that this is, somehow or another, sacred ground, and tread gently over the graves of her dead memories. aunty delluvian is a great favorite in our circle. she has many stories to tell, popular legends in her girlhood, of general george washington and the hessians and red-coats; and though she does not understand the humor of the present day, she knows some very funny verses by george coleman the younger, and some riddles of the composite order of architecture. well, aunty delluvian has taken quite an interest in our theory on "fireside amusements." she thinks its tendency good, for, as she justly observes, "young people are far too stuck up nowadays; too stuck up, my dear." so, in the goodness of her heart, the other evening she gave a little party, built on our principle, which we herewith beg to report. at the back of her old-fashioned country-house spreads a green lawn, surrounded by old apple and cherry-trees, with trunks as big round as the body of a horse. on this lawn she gave her party. when we arrived we found tables spread out with a goodly array of eatables and drinkables, the aroma of the tea mingled with the songs of the birds, whilst the perfume of the ripe strawberries, the grape-jelly, the steaming biscuits, and the hundred other country delicacies, blended harmoniously with the chirp of the crickets and the drone of the bees. it was a pretty, a very pretty sight; the long rows of snow-white table-cloth, the old china, the shining silver and steel, the glittering glass, the mountains of red strawberries surrounded by grape-leaves, and the innumerable nosegays of bright flowers. not far off, in the little barn-yard, we heard the "peet-peet," of the young chickens, whilst the occasional double-bass of the family cow gave delightful assurance of the freshness of the milk and the purity of the cream. aunty delluvian, clad in brown silk with full sleeves and scanty skirt, was all bustle and smiles. her old handmaiden, and hired boy from the farm-yard, and two women who were strangers in the land of delluvian, aided with enthusiasm. between forty and fifty persons, little (some very little) and big (some very big), sat down to tea, and did generously by the repast. the meal concluded, _dignity_ received informal notice to quit, and all pitched in to clear away the things. a circle of humanity formed itself, and behold the noble sport of "oats, peas, beans, and barley grows." leading moral philosophers, eminent divines, weather-beaten old vikings, gallant soldiers, and care-worn editors, sowed their seed, took their ease, stamped their feet, clapped their hands, viewed their lands, and, after waiting for a partner, became united in the bonds of juvenile matrimony with little curly-headed toddlers, and seemed to enjoy the fun just as much as though they had never looked into a greek lexicon, heard the boom of cannon, or written a leader. we would like to dwell long upon this merry-making under the sky, for there occurred enough pretty incidents and enough funny things out there to bear telling for a week; but our mission is to instruct our friends how to amuse others; so we must pass from the romps in the open air to the amusements which took place inside, after darkness had driven the merry-makers from the lawn. first in order came a great duck, chiefly made out of a boy and a sheet. first of all we were requested to introduce the bird, and expatiate to the company on its qualities. for who, they said, could speak better on the virtues of a _great canard_ than an editor? some one, however, maliciously mentioned that the family doctor, mr. pillules, was the best person to show up a _quack_. some one else argued that some lady would be better qualified to speak on ducks; but no lady could be found with courage enough to attempt the task, so it was finally agreed that dr. pillules and ourself should deliver a double-barrelled speech. this novel idea was, of course, rapturously received, so the doctor and editor were compelled, _nolens volens_, to stand up and deliver, which we did something after the following manner: [illustration] _doctor._ "this bird which you now see before you, ladies and gentlemen, is one of those detestable creatures known as the _canard_. this specimen was recently captured down south by some of the brave soldiers in general grant's army on the occasion of that gentleman's recent visit to richmond. this bird was formally the property of several newspaper editors, and was used by them for the purpose of raising fowl for the english market, where--" _editor._ "they found a ready sale, being served up in the columns of the _times_ with peace-pudding, and subsequently rehashed with coal lies and bully sauce, to satisfy the cravings of the british public. this curious bird has, however--" _doctor._ "fallen into disrepute of late, and the people of england will have to take a big dose of truth (a very unpleasant thing to an englishman) to counteract the disease which their gross indulgence in the flesh of this foul bird has engendered; they will likewise--" _editor._ "be obliged to confine their diet to the wholesome but unsavory humble pie. a kind of pie--" _doctor._ "we have often prescribed for them before. however, the cloud-capped summits of the mountains of jehoshaphat--" _editor_ (a little nonplussed). "may have _summit_ to do with the question, and then again they may not. we are inclined to think that jehoshaphat was not half so fat as john bull, and would have scorned to eat a canard anyhow, particularly one raised by "niggers," and hatched by steam; a bird which shakspeare justly remarked--" _doctor_ (a little puzzled this time). "didn't know _beans_, or at all events did not care about that wholesome and nutritious vegetable, preferring to pick up the sentiments falling from the lips of bull run russell, or the revolting food provided for travellers at refreshment saloons on the camden and amboy railway, which, as every one knows--" _editor._ "are simply provided by that company to kill off transient citizens of loyal states, which they do as effectually as the greatest quack, even were he as large as the specimen now before us. i do not of course refer to our friend the----" how long this double-barrelled speech might have continued, this chronicle cannot say, had not the duck at this moment declared, in very plain english, that "oh thunder! he couldn't stand it any longer, he was getting tired," which terminated _that_ part of the entertainment. [illustration] [illustration] the latent principle, the motive power, the core, the occult substratum of the duck is, of course, as in the case of the _vulgaris pueris_--a small boy. the mode of transforming him into a duck needs scarcely any explanation; the illustrations save all that trouble. a board tied on the youth's back, a sufficiency of wadding in the way of rags, and a sheet properly arranged over all; then a ball of rags, with a couple of sticks for the bill, making the head, and a newspaper cut into strips representing the tail, and web-feet cut out of brown paper--and there is your duck! the next thing in order for the evening's entertainment proved to be a little dwarf, who was exhibited on a table. he made a speech, danced a jig, took snuff, and altogether made himself very amusing and entertaining. the mode of manufacturing this _lusus naturæ_ is, as usual, with the substratum of small boy. the small boy paints a pair of moustaches on his upper lip and puts a pair of boots on his hands, resting his booted hands on a table, whilst a taller person stands behind him and reaches his arms over the first one's shoulders, as represented in the engraving; then a loose cloak or great-coat or shawl is arranged about the dwarf so as to allow the arms of no. to project and appear as if they belonged to no. . this performance should take place in a window or doorway, where a curtain can be so arranged as to hide the head and body of no. . then you have the dwarf all complete, as represented in the annexed sketch. it is almost impossible to describe this performance with precision, as much of the arrangement must be left to the intelligence of the exhibitor. the dwarf, however, we may state, is very easily made when you once get the idea. [illustration] aunty delluvian was very much amused with the dwarf; it reminded her of a trick that was played on her mother's father--who was once governor of massachusetts--and described by her uncle george, who was such a droll fellow, _he always had some of his puns to get off_. she did not remember the story exactly, but it was something about a dwarf being served up in a pie at the governor's table, in such a way that the dwarf popped out when the governor was about to carve the pie. "oh! it was such a funny story; if you could only have heard her uncle george tell it," and aunty delluvian went into silent convulsions of laughter at the bare memory of the exquisite humor of uncle george's narration. "but that was before your time, my dear; and between you and me, the young men are very dull nowadays, with their cigars, and their moustaches, and their fiddle-faddle--but mum, mum, my dear," and aunty delluvian laid her fingers on her lips, as though she had been communicating a most important secret. as to the dwarf of this evening, having no control over his hands, for the reason that they belonged to the person behind him, he was subject to the most grievous annoyance from those members; they would persist in pulling his own nose to a fearful extent, and performing that manual evolution known as taking a sight in the middle of his prettiest speech to the ladies; he, however, enjoyed a limited revenge on one of these occasions by catching the extended thumb between his teeth and doing something to it, the nature of which could only be inferred from the howl of agony proceeding from the person immediately behind him, and a general dislocation and disintegration of his various members, which occurred amidst the shouts of the spectators. a slight pause ensuing on the completion of the dwarf performance, afforded an opportunity to the young man in gold spectacles to come upon the stage. he had something very ingenious to show us. it was a trick performed with four small seeds, and was invented by a certain poor tutor at one of the english universities. although exceedingly simple, no one had been able to discover the secret, when finally some english nobleman, whose name he mentioned, gave the poor tutor five hundred pounds to reveal the mystery. having concluded this little introduction, the gentleman in gold spectacles turned to aunty delluvian, and asked her if she would be kind enough to let him have four grains of rice. "lor' bless the man! to be sure i will, as much as ever you like!" exclaimed aunty, in the fulness of her generous heart, as she turned round and called to the servant at the other end of the room: "here, katy, fetch up what was left of that cold rice-pudding we had yesterday." the gentleman in gold spectacles hastily explained that he did not wish the rice to be boiled, and four grains would be ample. however, aunty delluvian insisted upon all the rice in the establishment being produced. the gentleman in gold spectacles selected four grains, and throwing them on the table, challenged us to arrange them in such a manner that _each grain should be precisely the same distance from every other grain_, and yet the grains not touch each other. we all took our turn till we were tired, and then gave it up, save a couple of determined fellows, who requested they might have till their next meeting to find it out, which respite was accordingly granted. we were now tumultuously beset with demands for the solution of two riddles in our last chapter. first came the question: "why were moses and the jews the best bred people in the world?" answer. "because they got their manna (manner) from heaven." the second was: "why meat should always be cooked rare?" answer. "because what is _done_ cannot be _helped_." after this came cakes and nuts and cider. aunty delluvian thought nuts and cider could never come amiss, and we agree with her when the cider is such as she produced, clear, fruity, sparkling, which, as it courses down your gullet, seems like health incarnate, and as far superior to that bedevilled liquid which city boobies call champagne, and pay three dollars a bottle for, as faith is to smartness. so ended our evening at aunty delluvian's. chapter viii. the highlanders are a hardy race, inhabiting the north of scotland. they are brave, hospitable, and exceedingly fond of dancing. when you reflect that a very moderate nigger _used_ to fetch one thousand dollars, it will be exhilarating to know that you can have a highlander, with all his natural characteristics, for nothing. yet such is our proposition to you on the present occasion. will you have him for nothing? we assume, of course, that you have at least one hand. a foot will not answer. you have a hand? well! get an old glove and cut off the thumb and fingers to about the extent represented in the annexed diagram. place the glove on your hand, and then hold your hand in the position represented below. you will now have a general idea of what is to constitute the substratum of the highlander. [illustration] [illustration] now make a pair of little socks to fit your first and second fingers. here is a picture of the style in which they should be gotten up. these socks can be made of white linen or calico, and painted with water-colors of the desired pattern--the shoes black and the socks plaid. if the colors are mixed with very little water they will not run on the cloth. we suggest water-colors because the plaid can be very neatly represented by cross lines of red and green. if, however, you have no water-colors, you can stitch the stockings across with red and green thread. it will be well to bear in mind that as your second finger is longer than the first, the stocking for the first must be stuffed out with cotton or wool to make it equal in length to the second. [illustration: the highlander trick.--_see page ._] [illustration] now make a careful copy of our full-page picture opposite; stitch it on to the back of the glove; put the socks on your fingers, and your highlander is ready to dance, as represented in the above cut. you move about the fingers, simulating a man dancing the highland-fling or double-shuffle, and the result will be very curious and eminently satisfactory. [illustration] another variation of the same performance can be made, which will save the trouble of drawing a highlander. it is done thus: you procure a kid glove, and cut it down as before. you will see by the subjoined cut how the hand looks with the glove on before it has been fixed up. a white kid glove is best, because on the white kid you can paint almost the entire dress with water-colors--blue vest, red sash, and black pantaloons. a little piece of some gay rag must, however, be stitched on each side to represent the jacket; the chief object of the jacket being to hide the knuckles of the third and fourth fingers. [illustration] now, having fixed your glove and put it on, paint on your hand a face in the style of the following sketch, and your dancing spaniard, or terpsichorean matadore, is ready for action. the glove forms a complete suit (barring the boots), which you can slip off and on with the greatest ease at pleasure. if you have not a white kid glove wherewith to make the dress of the above-mentioned gentleman, you will have to sew a small piece of calico or paper in the proper place, for the shirt. you will also be obliged to make him a vest out of some little scrap of red or blue silk; in short, you must use your needle instead of your paint-brush. but this is plain enough and needs no further explanation. [illustration] there is one more item, however, which we must mention. it will be found rather difficult to paint moustaches on the hand so as to give them the right merry expression. the teeth, which lend so much life to the face, are troublesomely small to represent. we therefore think it best to draw a pair of moustaches exactly similar to the ones we subjoin, which can be made to stick in their place by the aid of a little diaclon or shoemaker's wax. chapter ix. the scientific gentleman at our last meeting bewildered us all with four grains of rice. it will be remembered that he challenged us to arrange those four seeds in such a manner that each should be an equal distance from each, and yet not touch each other. did we belong to the betting class, we would be willing to wager a moderately-sized cobble-stone that not one of our readers has yet solved the problem. it is explained thus: you lay three of the seeds on the table in the form of an equilateral triangle; then taking the fourth seed between the finger and thumb, you hold it above the other three, in the position represented in diagram on page . in this way, and this alone, can the objects be so arranged as to be each equidistant from each. it is a very simple matter when once explained, but we never yet knew any one to find it out. [illustration] our friend nix is in very fervid condition concerning a new picturesque trick he has learned. it is an old affair, but very funny, and consists in making an old woman's face with your fist, and is done as follows: you double your fist, as represented in the above diagram, and draw on it a face as also represented. [illustration] then you make a species of hood something like a mitten, with a hole in the side, around which hole you sew a frill, to make it look like a cap, which we also illustrate with a diagram. the mitten is placed on the hand, and a shawl pinned carefully round it, as shown in our diagram on page , and you have the old woman complete. [illustration] now, in order to make the old woman appear to speak, you must move the knuckle of the thumb up and down, at the same time simulate a cracked, squeaky old voice. by moving your thumb in time to your voice, the illusion becomes perfect. you can, of course, make the old woman say whatever you please; but the more emphatic the style of her conversation the better, as you can make the jaw more energetic, and the pauses more marked. the conversation might commence something in this style (you in your natural tone of voice): "well, aunty, how are _you_ to-day?" [illustration] aunty grummidge: "how am i? ah! hum! i'm well enough if it warn't for them plaguey boys! drat the boys! heavin' stones at my geese! i'll geese them, if i ketch 'em! drat 'em! and tramplin' all over my string-beans! drat 'em! i'll string-bean 'em, if i ketch hold of 'em! and then the pesky young warmints callin' me old dot-and-go-one! i'll old dot-and-go-one them, if i ketch hold of 'em." it will require a little practice to keep time between the thumb and the voice; but by making the phrases short and emphatic, it will be soon learned. when the old woman has done talking, you can stick a pipe in her mouth, and make her look quite comfortable. chapter x. "_in those days there were giants._" those days were the days when our mother was a young lady, and, as we devoutly believe, the most beautiful woman of her period; when our father's side-whiskers were glossy black; when he wore his hat just a _leetle_ bit on one side, and when they twain used now and then to go forth magnificently arrayed after the lamps were lit, to balls and parties, whilst we little ones sat up in our white beds to receive the parting kiss and injunction flavored with blessings and _eau de cologne_. in those days, we repeat, there were giants. giants in our story-books, giants in our young imaginations, mere suckers from the parent stem of the story-books, but terrible in their proportions. there were giants, too, in our narrow path, springing out of our waywardness and evil passions, and the evil passions of others; there were giants, too, on the road to knowledge; oh, such monstrous giants all of them, far bigger and fiercer than any we ever met in after life. but there was another giant of a far different sort, who used to make his appearance at our little parties about christmas-time, and in sustaining whose character we have over and over again sweltered and staggered and suffered martyrdom the most terrible. still he was a pleasant giant (particularly to the upper-story boy), and welcome to the whole company. he had a very youthful look, in spite of his ferocious moustache; his hat had a tendency to drop over his eyes and his gait was erratic; though his proportions inspired awe in the hearts of the tiny portion of the audience. we have but rarely met this gentleman in later days, partially, we fancy, from a difficulty in procuring legs; we have observed a growing disinclination in persons to perform these members; indeed, we have ourself shrunk several times from the task. it is, indeed, an ordeal rather severe, after partaking heartily of christmas dinner, and, perhaps, generously of wine, to walk about a hot room with a warm boy on your shoulders, and your entire person--head, face, and all--enveloped in a heavy cloak or overcoat, and not a breath of fresh air to be taken under penalty of _spoiling the giant_. a small and cool boy is placed on the shoulders of a man or boy who is stout in the legs; a long military cloak or overcoat is thrown over the two, and the monster is made. you can embelish him with moustaches, a hat, and a long walking-cane, and then you will have the creature complete, as represented in the picture opposite. [illustration: how to make a giant.--_see page ._] chapter xi. [illustration] folly is better than physic. if no one ever made this aphorism before, we at once lay claim to and include it in our copyright; entered according to act of congress in the clerk's office, and all the rest of it. a good old-fashioned time we had of it last christmas evening at the house of our friend nix. what a happy, merry, jolly crowd of noodles, ninnies, judies, tomfools, and undignified people we were to be sure! nix gave himself unheard-of moustaches and eyebrows with india-ink, and then washed himself into the likeness of a boss chimney-sweep, in which condition he remained the whole evening, and came to business the next day with a faint tinge of the dusty pigment under his left ear, although he averred that he had parboiled himself over night with scalding soap and water in honest efforts to remove the oriental stain. at this distance of time it would be hard to recall who were the guests at this tomfool's festival, even had we ever known them all; but a fluttering of little faces and pink sashes, and very bunchy frocks suggestive of new crinoline--indeed, now we think of it, one _wee_ thing told us emphatically she had on a "noo hoop-stirt," and raised her short red frock to show us the inestimable treasure; and that again reminds us of another toddler, of the masculine persuasion, who thrice called our attention to his new boots, and once requested us to feel the soles where his mother had scratched them with her scissors to prevent his slipping on the carpets. but, as we were saying, a certain confused picture of fluttering pink sashes, bunchy crinoline, blue eyes, and flushed cheeks, is one of the _chefs-d'oeuvre_ in the private gallery of our memory, and was nearly all we carried away from that foolish christmas carnival. we remember, though, aunty delluvian, in all the pomp, pride, and circumstance of a dress which might have been described by some fashionable _modiste_ of fifty years ago, but before which the steel nibs of a modern pen grow parched and gape inkless in their course over the _cream laid_. we can state that it was of silk, and very thick, and rustled, and had an odor, not of myrrh--for that we have purchased at the drug stores as being good for the gums--though perhaps of frankincense, but certainly of some eastern perfume; and there our descriptive capacity ends. concerning certain gems and trinkets, also worn by that worthy lady, we are equally humble and bewildered; but if our memory serves us rightly, they were chiefly of pale and yellow stones surrounded by pearls, and of oval and slender forms, save one sombre brooch (she wore in the neck of her dress under a bow of ribbon), which has hair in it, and was shown us as a rare piece of workmanship and a great relic; indeed, aunty delluvian informed us, very confidentially, that a person by the name of sally mason would have given her ears to possess it once--from which we judged it to be of great value. the scientific gentleman was there; and others "too numerous to mention," as the advertisements say. one of the company, whom we had never met before, left a particular impression on our mind, partly because he came from a far-off land, with a large budget of strange knowledge and exotic ideas, and partly because he showed us a quite curious and simple little toy. among other things he expatiated on the dexterity of the australasian savages in the use of the boomerang, which they would throw in such a way as to make it skim entirely around a house and return to their feet. he told us that one of these savages would seize his boomerang and send it whirling into a flock of parrots, bringing down half a dozen of the birds, and then return to his feet. he added that parrot-pie was excellent eating; a statement which sent a thrill of indignation through the juvenile portion of the company. the idea of cooking birds that say "pretty poll!" while the young were indignant, many of the elders felt incredulous, touching the boomerang; one person, indeed, delicately hinting that "throwing the boomerang" must be the australasian equivalent of our expression "pulling the long bow;" but aunty delluvian, who had just heard the latter part of the discourse, came gallantly to the rescue (she had taken rather a _notion_ to the young australian). she assured the company that there could be no doubt of the existence of the boomerang, for an uncle of hers had on a certain occasion brought one from china, and that it grew so tame that it would come and feed out of your hand. this statement, as may be supposed, produced a profound sensation, which good breeding alone prevented from being an explosion. several persons present tried to hush the matter up by suggesting that the good lady probably confounded the instrument in question with a baboon or orang-outang. but aunty delluvian would listen to nothing of the kind; _no compromises for her_. "bless the child, she had seen it with her own eyes, and it went all round the house and came back to her feet, and caught the pigeon, and killed the parrot, just as the gentleman described." however, the young antipodean asserted his own veracity very effectively by offering to manufacture a model of the weapon then and there. "if you will only provide me," he said, "with a good stiff card--an old playing-card will do as well as anything--i will soon satisfy you that what i described _can_ be done." the card was produced, and in a couple of minutes he had with a pair of scissors clipped out a piece of the size and shape of the subjoined diagram. he then borrowed a book and a lead pencil, and placed the miniature boomerang on the former, with one end projecting over the edge of the book about an inch. he then took the book in his left hand, and holding it at a slight angle as represented in the diagram, page , struck the projecting end a smart blow with the pencil. this sent it whirling through the air towards the opposite corner of the ceiling, which it nearly though not quite reached--then it came fluttering back to the very feet of the performer. this operation was repeated several times with almost universal applause, the only dissentient voice being that of a little shaver of five, who wanted to see the parrots come down. [illustration] about this time it became evident that some mysterious preparations were being made outside. a good deal of whispering occurred, and nix, with one or two others, disappeared from the apartment. we, in the meantime, amused ourselves with sundry time-honored experiments. first came an optical illusion-trick, the fun of which consisted in the futile efforts of several persons to knock a cork off a fork with the fore-finger; and is performed thus: a steel fork, or some other sharp instrument, is stuck in the door, and a cork placed on the end of it. [illustration] [illustration] the person wishing to test his skill places himself in front of it; fixing his eyes on the cork, he then walks slowly backwards ten or twelve feet, his eyes still fixed on the cork; having done which, he extends his right hand, closes an eye, and advances towards the cork, till he thinks he has reached near enough to knock the cork from its position with one blow of the finger. nine times out of ten the performers fail, as they did on the occasion in question. this experiment seemed to afford a good excuse to a certain little witch, with black eyes, to propose the performance of pinning a thimbleful of water to the wall. the thimble was filled with water, a pin borrowed, and mademoiselle, escorted by her cavalier--a young gentleman in patent-leather boots, and breathing incense from every curl of his hair, and from every part of his dress, to a degree calculated to drive phalon mad and ruin the reputation of arabia. escorted by this exquisite being, the young lady repaired to the spot selected for the experiment; but, alas! just as she was about to fix the thimble to the wall the pin dropped to the floor. in an instant the perfumed gallant was on his knees searching for the lost article, and with equal promptitude the treacherous belle had emptied the water on his fragrant pate, amid the roars of laughter of those around--for in this consisted the trick. while we were still laughing the door opened, and nix entered, somewhat flushed, and with a comical frown on his brow. "ladies and gentlemen," he began, "i have a serious complaint to make--really it is too bad. upon my life it is. i think miss mary fenn and miss julia farley, and several of the other young ladies, ought to be spoken to" (the ladies mentioned and several others here colored up and looked rather scared). "i think they ought to be very seriously spoken to, going round in this reckless way. why, upon my life, there's no knowing what may happen--and they don't care one bit. they care no more for a fellow-creature than i do for a fly. ah! (with a sigh) there is one feller-creature which i wish they would think a little more of. in common honesty they ought to do something to their eyes--wear spectacles, or something of that sort; and for their lips, since nature has seen fit not to provide them with moustaches, they might use respirators or--or--or--well, something has to be done, or there won't be a sane man in the neighborhood. i myself have a severe pain in my left side; and here, when i go outside--i don't mean the left side, but outside the room--for a little temporary relief, i find a poor fellow maimed, probably for life--his head completely turned." at this point a figure resembling the opposite sketch walks in, and declares that he would not have his head turned back for the world; on the contrary, he finds his present position far more comfortable than any other, etc., etc., etc. [illustration] the construction of this figure is so simple that it seems almost superfluous to explain it. the person performing it puts on a loose coat and vest, wrong side foremost, fastens a false face to the back of his head, and a wig over his face, and the whole is complete. the wig may be made of curled hair from an old mattress, sewed on to a black silk cap. by the way, while we are on the subject, we may as well say a word or two more concerning this curled hair, which will be found very useful for amateur theatricals. with a handful of this cheap material (the imitation or grass substitute will answer just as well), you can make beards, whiskers, and moustaches of any desired shape. all that is required is to twist, stretch, or mould the tangled mass into the desired shape, and then, in the proper place, stick on a small piece of diachylon, and the appendage is ready for use. the diachylon can be purchased in lump form of any druggist. in order to adhere it to the face, it should be slightly warmed before the fire. "why, bless my soul alive, if the poor fellow's head isn't turned!" exclaimed aunty delluvian, in unfeigned surprise. "well, some foolish fellows do get their heads turned by the girls," and the good old lady laughed heartily, honestly believing she had made a joke. indeed, she patted us on the knee to draw our attention, as she added, in an explanatory way: "you know, when i was a girl, and any young fellow fell in love with one of the girls, we used to say his head was turned; so i say that young man's head is turned--don't you see!" and again the old lady went off in a transport of merriment at her own wit. but in a moment it was over, and when we turned there was something glistening in her eye, as she looked dreamily before her out of that christmas-day away off, doubtless, to some other christmas-day when young men had their heads turned by designing young women. but there was no time for reverie; for nix, who had assumed the position of showman, now made himself heard, bellowing through his nose: "now, ladies and gentleman, i will proceed to show you a highly moral exhibition, some of the four-footed works of nature, or, as they are commonly called, quadrupedals. this exhibition, by calling the mind to contemplate the works of nature, elevates the soul to things above, and makes us all better fathers, husbands, wives, sweethearts, sons, and girls to do general housework. now, ladies and gentlemen, i would ask you who, after contemplating the rhinoceros, would fail to return home a more dutiful parent or respectful sweetheart? but, to step from the realms of fancy to the practical regions of fact, i will proceed to interdooce to you that splendid anumile saladin, the royal bengal tiger, from botteny bay, in the west injees. this wonderful creature measures sixteen feet from the tip of the tail to the tip of the snout, and sixteen feet from the tip of the snout to the tip of the tail, making in all thirty-two feet." [illustration] at this point of his oration the showman paused, opened the door, and gave a loud whistle, when in scampered a creature more easily sketched than described. at first we did not recognise the stub-tailed bull-terrier snap, so completely was he disguised and bestriped with black paint, more to resemble a zebra, however, than a tiger. snap, all unconscious of his new character, began frisking and capering round, wagging his tail _vociferously_, as nix expressed it. "this beautiful but terrible creature," continued nix, "is exquisitely marked by nature. his, however, are not good-conduct marks, for, in his native wilds, his behavior is anything but proper. he will devour anything that comes in his way, having been known, when pressed by hunger, to eat even an alderman. such being the nature of the beast, i will now proceed to show you a more amiable specimen of this moral exhibition. this, ladies and gentlemen, is the largest of all animals. it belongs to asia and africa. we have no elephants, naturally, in america, any more than we have irishmen. they are all imported at great expense, two ships being required to bring over each creature, one for himself, and one for his trunk, i believe." enter elephant (adjoining page). "the elephant lives chiefly on ginger-snaps, sugar, rice, and cayenne pepper, which, at the present price of groceries, makes his board come rather heavy. you have all heard of the sagacity of the elephant--how he squirted the dirty water over that injudicious tailor who ran his needle into the elephant's trunk. but, ladies and gentlemen, i was witness to a more singular instance of intelligence on the part of this elephant here, which is, perhaps, the largest of its kind ever imported to this country. while passing through the streets of one of our inland towns during the late election, this very anumile seized a slip of paper from one of the crowd, rushed up to the polls, and actually voted the union ticket before we knew what he was about." [illustration: how to make an elephant. _see page ._] in this strain nix continued for some time, while the elephant walked round the room. little boys were mounted on his back for a ride, and enjoyed the fun hugely. the scientific gentleman with gold spectacles threw a temporary damper on the merriment by asking, in a sombre voice, whether we knew how many times round the elephant's foot was equal to his height, and then equally solemnly informing us that it was "twice." having said "twice!" very emphatically, he became silent, and the fun went on. now comes the question--how was the elephant made? a glance at the annexed picture will throw considerable light on the subject at once. here we have the usual human substratum. two gentlemen, wearing rubbers, place themselves in the position represented, while the foremost one holds something in his hands. this is a grey shawl or table-cover, rolled up to represent the elephant's trunk, which the performer swings about to produce a life-like effect. all that now remains to be done is to procure another grey shawl and spread it over the united operators, fastening two pieces of round paper, with black dots on them, in the proper places, for eyes, and a couple of rags or old gloves for ears. the elephant is now complete, save the tusks. these can be made out of long pieces of twisted white paper, pinned to the inside of the shawl, and there you have a first-rate elephant for a small tea-party. dish, and serve up with lots of _sass_, as the cookery books say. but let us listen to nix; he is spouting some more nonsense: "ladies and gentlemen: this elephant was captured and imported into this country by a bengal officer, colonel gurramuchy, whom i shall have much pleasure in introducing to you. you have all heard of cumming--well, he is coming." [illustration] [illustration] here entered the most extraordinary being we had ever beheld; a very military-looking person, with a very small head and an exceedingly long neck. however, refer to the illustration, where you see him faithfully portrayed. following him was an equally singular person, who was presented to us as captain dawk, a particular friend of the colonel's, whose portrait we likewise subjoin. these gentlemen chatted with nix, and told us one or two of their hunting adventures--the most extravagant yarns. we have only space for one, which we shall condense as much as possible. captain dawk once, while hunting the wild boar in india, had the misfortune to have his horse ripped open by the tusks of the infuriated beast. his horse of course fell heavily, and died almost immediately. while he was standing at the side of the poor creature, deploring his loss, and wondering how he should ever reach home, he beheld at some distance from him, on the open plain, a huge tiger approaching. there was no tree within miles; to run away would have been useless; he at once bethought himself of an idea. seizing his hunting-knife, he rapidly removed the internals of the horse, and crept into the cavity himself. the tiger, on coming up, seized the horse by the neck, and dragged it several miles to its den in the jungle, where it commenced at once to feast upon the carcass. watching a favorable opportunity, when the tiger had eaten a hole in the horse's side, captain dawk drew a small revolver from his pocket, and shot the animal dead. he was just in the act of crawling from his place of concealment when he beheld five more tigers approaching. four of these he shot one after the other from inside the horse, and then all his ammunition was exhausted, and one tiger was left alive; but, drawing his knife, he resolved to sell his life dearly. here the captain gave us a most harrowing account of his encounter with the last tiger, which was larger than any of the others. first it broke both his legs, then his arms, then his back, and finally the ferocious beast got the officer's head into its mouth--but to conclude in his own words: "i felt the hot breath in my face, the sharp teeth pressing both sides of my skull. in another instant i felt all would be over, and my worst fears were realized. with one gripe the wretched brute bit off my head, and then tearing me limb from limb, devoured me on the spot." this story was pronounced a stunner. but how were these extraordinary faces produced? first, we will refer our readers to the diagram, which will explain a good deal, and then throw what light we can on the subject with words. the face of the colonel was made by painting an entire set of features on the forehead with india-ink. the white of the eyes in both cases was effected by wetting the finger and rubbing it on an enamelled visiting-card; by this means you take a good deal of the white from the card which can be transferred to the proper place on the forehead. in the case of the colonel, if the performer moves his eyebrows up and down as he is speaking, it will communicate a motion to the pointed moustaches, and a most comical expression to the entire face. [illustration] to make the second face, you must, if possible, get some one with very light eyebrows and no moustaches; then paint eyes and eyebrows on the forehead, which must be done artistically, shadows and all, and connect them, as represented, with the bridge of the nose, paint heavy black moustaches, and your performer will have the appearance of possessing an immensely long face; he must, however, keep his eyes shut, or the illusion will be dispelled. after this performance, the scene, as painted on our memory, resolves itself into blue eyes, pink ribbons, bunchy skirts, oranges, candies, lemonades, wax-lights, christmas-trees, aunty delluvian, and endless smiling faces. may all good people have as foolish, merry a christmas as we had at aunty delluvian's! chapter xii. hanky-panky is the name of a certain art practised by pantomimists of the clown and harlequin school, and is the subject of no little study and practice. we do not think it within our power to define hanky-panky, composed as it is of fictitious whackings and kickings and smackings, unless, indeed, that be a definition. we can, however, give a couple of illustrations of the art as it may be practised in the family circle. we may look further into the matter at some future day, and possibly issue a volume of parlor hanky-panky, beautifully illustrated by the author. the first example we shall now give is how to knock your knuckles on the edge of a marble mantel-piece or other hard substance without hurting them. it is done thus: you raise your clenched fist high in the air, hold it poised there some seconds for all the audience to see, and then bring it swiftly down; but just before your hand reaches the object, open your fingers quickly, so they will strike the object with a sharp slap, then close them quickly; if this is neatly done, it will appear as if you had struck your knuckles a violent blow. this will make the ladies scream, and every one else thrill of horror. [illustration] the second feat of hanky-panky consists in knocking your head against the edge of a door with such apparent force as to break your skull, provided it be anything under an inch thick. this you do by holding your hand which is farthest from the audience on a level with your face, as represented in the annexed picture. at the moment your forehead touches the edge you must give the side of the door a good smart bang with the palm of your hand. to the audience on the other side of the door, who do not see this motion of the hand, you appear to have given your poor head a terrific blow. [illustration] another piece of hanky-panky frequently practised on the stage requires two performers. no. aims a blow at the head of no. ; no. , just as the blow reaches him, raises both hands as though to guard the blow, managing, however, as he does so to slap them smartly together so as to produce a loud report. if the blow and the report occur simultaneously, no. will appear to have given no. a most vicious box on the ear. this is all we have to say about hanky-panky. chapter xiii. being in a tranquil mood the other evening, and indisposed for the rollicking fun and tomfoolery in which, we are glad to say, we have so often indulged, we called upon our friend nix to pass a quiet hour or two. when we had explained the object of our visit, nix replied that it was well, for although he could not entertain us himself in the character of host, he could introduce us to a family to whom he happened to be engaged himself that evening. "they are," said he, "the most charming people in the world--all ladies, excepting a little pickle of a boy, a child after your own heart, by the way; not one of your impulsive, high-spirited humbugs, who does all sorts of vicious things for twelve hours, and is sorry for them for five minutes; not one of your easy penitents, who is never ashamed of owning himself in the wrong, and at the same time never too proud to do wrong; but a stubborn, sensitive, ingenuous, affectionate, fun-loving little fellow. do you know i like people who, when they are mad, get sulky? i have found they make the best of friends, the best servants, and the best members of society generally. i wonder who started the admiration of _impulsive_ people? 'oh!' you hear a young lady say, who never really gave the subject five minutes' thought in her life, and is quite unconscious that she is repeating a hackneyed sentiment which has been knocking about the world for the last fifty years; 'oh!' you hear her say, 'i like quick-tempered people, who get into a passion and are over it in a minute.' then you hear some one else: 'oh, yes, he does wrong, but he is full of fine impulses!' for my part, i think these impulsive folks are the greatest humbugs in the world. in the first place, there is scarcely any villany which cannot be perpetrated in a moment, if you have only the necessary impulse; but then, to look into the origin of this impulsiveness, it arises altogether from a lack of self-control, a violent, self-indulgent spirit. then, as to ready repentance and confession, that, to my mind, is the worst sign man, woman, or child can show; it simply shows they do not fully appreciate the seriousness of their offence, or are so devoid of pride that they do not care in what estimation they are held by others; or, as is often the case, it is a cheap way of squaring accounts and starting afresh, perhaps on better terms than before, with people who like _impulsive_ characters. bah! confession and repentance ought to come out of a man with tears of blood, and----" "but about the ladies?" we broke in. "your dissertation on character is very good, but i think you made use of the adjective charming in connection with the noun ladies." "oh, yes," answered nix, suddenly changing his manner, for he had grown quite fierce and enthusiastic in his tirade against impulsive persons. "the ladies--'that man who would lay his hand on a lady in aught save kindness, is unworthy the name of a british officer and a gentleman.' "'a wife, a dog, and a walnut-tree, the more you lick 'em, the better they be.' "arguments _pro_ and _con_. but you said something about the ladies. well, this family comprises a widow, three daughters, and little pickle aforementioned. these ladies, i may tell you, are not only ladies, but gentlewomen--a very, very rare article, i can assure you." "true," we responded; "painfully true." "these ladies have found out--no, there i am wrong; they never gave the subject a thought. but they are illustrations of the fact, though they are ignorant of it, for their good-breeding came to them partly by nature and partly by careful, motherly, christian training. they are illustrations of the fact, that to be gentlewomen it is necessary to be gentle women." "women do not appear to be generally aware of that fact," we chimed in. "these ladies, although full of intelligence and _esprit_, besides being highly educated and accomplished, could not, i believe, give a smart retort to--to--to save their eyes; and when you see their eyes you will be able to judge of the value of the stake. if any one were to make a rude or impertinent speech to them they would not understand him. as they never wound the feelings of others, they cannot imagine any one else doing so." "but," said we, "there are certain forms of words which no one could possibly mistake--not even the simplest of human beings." "oh, of course, i don't refer to such cases as those! under such circumstances, my friends would feel deeply grieved, and even rebuke the offender. but as to making one of those sharp retorts in which underbred young women so greatly delight, why, they could no more do it than fly!" fortunately, at this point in nix's harangue, we reached the door of the ladies under discussion; for be it understood that most of our conversation had occurred on our way thither. we doubt whether it is a good plan to praise one's friends too highly before an introduction; it is calculated to produce a reaction. at least, we felt just the least shade of disappointment on being ushered into the presence of the subject of our companion's eulogy. four plainly-dressed, oval-faced, soft-eyed ladies, seated round a large centre-table, on which were strewn water-colors, albums, scissors, and scraps of paper. "mr. nix has told us all so much about you," said the eldest, "that i feel as though we were old friends. my daughters are now enthusiastic on the subject of transparencies, and i've no doubt your ingenuity will enable them to solve many knotty points beyond their amateur capacity." we soon found, however, that we were the one to learn, for the work on which the white fingers were engaged was something entirely new to us. there were beautiful transparencies, mostly representing landscapes, and cut out of writing-paper. we immediately became a devoted student of the art of transparent picture-making, with a single eye, of course, to the amusement of our readers. the soft, brown eyes, the taper fingers, and the gentle manners, had nothings to do with our assiduity, upon which we pledge our sacred honor, as a calmuc tartar. [illustration: paper transparencies.--_see page ._] we will now proceed to explain, if those white fingers do not get in the way, how these pictures are produced; and first, according to our custom, we refer the reader to the annexed diagram (no. )--a diagram is a good basis to start upon. before you look at the diagram, it would be well to collect the necessary materials, which are as follows: several sheets of writing-paper. one piece, say four inches square, of thick paper or card. a pair of small fine-pointed scissors. a sharp-pointed penknife. a small piece of charcoal. burnt grape-vine or cedar makes the best. a piece of transparent tracing-paper. a black lead-pencil. pen and ink. a thick pasteboard, or thin pine board, about the thickness of an ordinary book-cover, and at least two inches longer and wider than the picture you are about to make. a sheet of glass will answer as well, perhaps better. a small quantity of thin, fine paste, free from lumps, made of flour and water boiled. mind that it is boiled and free from lumps. now see the diagram no. . this is the picture you wish to produce in the transparency. take your tracing-paper, and with a pen and ink make an outline of this picture, having done which, rub the charcoal over the back of the tracing, then lay the tracing-paper on a sheet of letter-paper, take your lead-pencil in your hand; now, every mark you make on the tracing-paper with the pencil will leave a corresponding charcoal mark on the paper beneath it. bearing this in mind, you will draw your pencil carefully round the outline of the moon, the window of the old castle, and the bright light in the water. now carefully remove the tracing-paper, and you will find the forms of these objects faintly marked in charcoal lines on the writing-paper. now, with the fine point (it must have a fine point) of your lead-pencil, travel over the charcoal lines, so as to make them distinct and permanent. you do so because the charcoal easily brushes off. you will then proceed to brush off the charcoal with a soft rag as soon as you have made your pencil outline. you will now, with the scissors or penknife, whichever is most convenient for the purpose, cut out the parts you have traced--that is to say, a round hole for the moon, a small square patch for the castle window, and a few irregular slits for the water. then you will have a piece of paper like diagram no. (page ). there now, we think we managed to keep the white fingers out of that pretty well, though it was pretty hard work, rest assured. so far so good. now you want to cut a piece of paper, which shall be your second tint, to represent the clouds and water. to this end you again lay your outline tracing on the white paper, and trace the shape of the clouds, the castle window, and the lights on the water, which will give you a form similar to that represented in diagram no. (page ). this you will cut out as before. now you wish for a tint to represent the distant mountains and the reflection of the old castle; therefore, trace and cut out as before directed a piece of paper corresponding with the outlines of these forms, which piece will correspond exactly with diagram no. (page ). now you will cut out a piece of paper to represent the nearer mountains and the castle, which will correspond with diagram no. (page ). after which you will cut a piece to represent the castle alone; and lastly, you cut out of your card the form of the fir-tree and old railing in the foreground, and the chief part of your labor is done. again we must congratulate ourself on keeping those little fingers out of our description, though they have been playing about like white mice among our ideas all the time. we only trust we have made the process clear to our readers. we will now presume you wish to mount your transparency on a sheet of glass. first take the piece of white paper corresponding with diagram no. , and cover it with a thin coat of paste, being careful that it is free from lumps, and lay it on the glass, pressing it evenly all over with a soft handkerchief. over this, in its proper place, paste no. , over that no. , and so on, one over the other, till they are all on. you can now hold it up to the light to see if the reflected lights in the water are correct; if not, wait till the transparency is dry, and brighten them up by cutting the necessary pieces out with the sharp point of a penknife. all that needs doing now is to paste over all a thin sheet of white paper. this need only be pasted round the edges just enough to make it keep its place. to give the picture a finish, it should either be put in a frame or have a border of gilt paper or other untranslucent material pasted round it to conceal the ragged edges of the picture. now your picture is complete. hold it once more up to the light, and you will be surprised what a beautiful effect is produced. if the transparency be not to be mounted in glass, the process is as follows: cut a square hole, a trifle smaller than the picture, in the board you have provided; cut a piece of white paper of the same shape as the hole, only about one inch larger each way; moisten it slightly with a wet rag, then put some paste all round the edges of the paper, and paste it over the square hole in the board; keep the paper slightly moistened till the paste has thoroughly dried; then you can allow the paper to dry, when it will become smooth and tight like the head of a drum. on this you can paste the transparency in the same way you did on the glass. our young lady friends had a number of wonderful things produced in this way, into some of which they had introduced color with remarkable effect. in the design we have given as an example, being one of the simplest in their collection, the light in the castle window was red, and threw long rays of red light across the rocks, with a red reflection in the water. this was easily done with a little water-color (crimson lake); but we refrained from introducing it into our description, for fear of complicating the matter and puzzling the reader. however, when you have made the one we have described, you will soon see a number of other effects which can be produced--sunsets with a moving sun, rain-storms, floating clouds; skies and water painted blue, and trees green, etc., etc. little pickle did not take any active part in the transparency business, though he looked on admiringly, occasionally throwing in a few words of applause or advice, something in this style: "oh! i say, lucy, couldn't you put a cow in there; it would look fust-rate. i can draw a cow, all but the feet, and you can hide them behind the rocks, you know." or: "yes--ah--yes--that snow is pretty good, only that feller has only got one runner to his sled!" it is strange that boys will always say _feller_ and _fust-rate_. little pickle was not, however, idle in his way. while we were studying white fingers, brown eyes, and transparencies, he had cut out a sled, a wheel-barrow, and manufactured a dancing-pea. the latter he made by running a pin half way through a pea, one end of which he stuck into a broken piece of tobacco-pipe. he then threw his head back till the tobacco-pipe attained a perpendicular position, when he commenced blowing, which made the pea dance in the air in the most amusing manner for nearly a minute. the mode of arranging the pea, as well as of using it, is illustrated in the accompanying sketch. [illustration] he likewise horrified us all by suddenly appearing with a hideous double row of protruding yellow teeth, which he coolly dropped into the palm of his hand, when he thought our feelings had been sufficiently outraged. "they are only made of orange-peel," he explained. "you just cut a slit there, and notch them along like that, and then put them into your mouth." [illustration] now, in order to convey to your mind, dear reader, the method of constructing this ornament, shall we tell you to cut an elliptical piece of orange, and then make a longitudinal incision here, with transverse incisions there, etc., etc.? no, we will not; we will fall back to our old friend the diagram, and if you cannot make yourself a set of false teeth after that, then remain in heathen darkness on all matters of dentistry, as you deserve. cut a piece of orange-peel in the shape represented, and at the foot of the preceding diagram you will see how they look when you put them on. [illustration: diagram no. .] [illustration: diagram no. .] [illustration: diagram no. .] [illustration: diagram no. .] [illustration: diagram no. .] [illustration: diagram no. .] chapter xiv. a friend of ours, who is an ardent admirer of that great humorist of the plains, artemus ward, has recently been edifying a large circle of private friends with imitations of the celebrated showman. he has had a wig and false nose made expressly for this entertainment, by the aid of which adjuncts he succeeds in establishing quite a respectable resemblance to the grand original, as may be seen by his portrait, which we have taken the trouble to get engraved. most of the jokes are those of artemus repeated from memory. the more sober ones, we fancy, are original. the lecture runs thus: "ladies and gentlemen:--having recently paid a visit to salt lake city, the great mormon capital, i think a short lecture on the subject may prove instructive as well as amusing. although i appear before you with the cap and bells, i would have you understand that when i speak of matters of fact i shall confine myself strictly to the truth. you may, therefore, rely upon all i shall tell you concerning the mormons as being strictly true. [illustration] "when on the dock preparatory to start on my voyage, i found myself surrounded by a large concourse of people, who seemed perfectly willing that i should go. 'go along,' they said, 'old feller, and stay as long as you please.' i would like you to take a good look at the noble vessel in which i sailed (pointing to a crude delineation of a steamship), because, if you ever go to california, travel by some other boat. "when we were fairly out at sea, i observed that many of the passengers ran frequently to look over the side of the vessel--to see if there were any dolphins alongside, i presume. one young couple sitting near me, newly married and very haggard, talked earnestly together. i could not avoid hearing a part of their conversation. "'oh, julia,' said the gentleman, 'you are very noble; you have thrown up society, friends, everything for me.' "'do not say a word, alfred,' replied the young lady; 'you have thrown up more than i have.' "it was very touching, for they certainly threw up a great deal between them. "in san francisco i delivered an oration. it was not, perhaps, equal to cicero's, but still i think--i don't know--but i think if old cis had heard it he would have been astonished. i delivered an oration to the soldiers once. they were much delighted--very much delighted indeed--so delighted, in fact, that they come dooced near shooting me. "the hotels on the road to salt lake city are, as a rule, inferior to our leading ones in new york. at one of them they gave me a sack of oats for a pillow. that night i had nightmares. i suppose they were attracted by the oats. the next morning the landlord asked me how i was, _old hoss_! i replied that i felt my oats! "after travelling several days, more or less, we reached utah, and put up at this hotel (here a rude picture is produced). it is a temperance hotel. the only objection i have to temperance hotels is that--that--they keep such dooced poor _licker_. in the front of the hotel may be seen the coach in which we had been confined for the last eight days. those among my audience who have served a term in the state prison will understand our feeling when we escaped from that vehicle. "utah is a beautiful city, laid out in broad streets, with avenues of fine trees. brigham young is the big injun of the place, next to whom comes heber kimball. brigham has the largest number of wives--two hundred in all. he says his only hope now is to have his dying pillow smoothed by the hands of his family. under the circumstances, it strikes me he'd have to go out of doors to die if he wishes to accomplish it. "the number of his children is unknown, though, if you multiply two hundred wives by fifteen, you will get a rough estimate. we mentioned this to briggy, and he seemed to think it rather rough. perhaps so. brig is very exact in his calculations; he knows to a ton of beef what is consumed in his household daily. as an illustration of his exceeding accuracy in little matters, we may mention a fact. on one occasion one of his wives was missing. five weeks had not elapsed before brigham had discovered the fact. those of my audience who have mothers-in-law will appreciate the advantage of two hundred wives. there must be a good deal of mother-in-law to that number; an amount highly calculated to keep things lively. possibly brigham is fond of excitement. "on one occasion briggy took a fancy to a certain young lady, and proposed for her hand. she replied that she could not accept his offer unless he also married her elder sister. to this he readily assented--went to her--the proposition was made--the sister said she should be obliged to decline unless he married her mother also. after some deliberation he proposed to the mother, but she refused unless he would also propose to her old grandmother. finally he married the whole crowd. "of course brigham cannot attend personally to the amount of courting necessary--that is to say, in our old-fashioned style. no, he has his form of love done up in pamphlet form, which he sends to any lady to whom he wishes to be united. this saves trouble. "though the mormons generally are a very steady people, they still have loose fish among them. on one occasion a gay mormon lothario gained access to a young ladies' seminary. in the morning it was found he had eloped with the entire establishment. "i, even i did not escape without some difficulty. just before my departure, a worthy gentleman in the pickle business died, leaving fourteen wives. they sent for me. when i called i found them all in tears. "'why is this thus?' i inquired. "'art going?' inquired they. "'i ist,' i replied. "'oh, why! oh, why goest thou?' "'because when i gettest ready to doest a thing, i generally doest it,' replied i. "'wilt marry us?' said they. "'i rather think not,' i replied. "'oh, this is too much!' cried they. "'that's where it is,' rejoined myself. 'it's precisely on account of its being too much that i object to it.' "my lectures were very popular at salt lake, and always well attended. on one occasion i incautiously gave a family ticket to a certain elder. that night my house was crowded to overflowing. it was entirely filled with the elder's family. there was not room for a single paying visitor to come in. the next day they called to say they were very much pleased, and gave me their photograph in a very pretty pocket-case, something like a wallet. subsequently it was taken out of my pocket by a young man on broadway, but i detected him in the act and seized him by the collar. he at once acknowledged the deed, but said he did it in the name of the confederate government in retaliation for outrages committed by our troops in the shenandoah valley." here the lecture ended. it generally received nearly as much applause as that of the great original, for my friend had studied ward's peculiar manner and quaint enunciation till he had got it to a nicety. chapter xv. this chapter we shall devote exclusively to a little play, written expressly for parlor performance. the characters are so few, and the materials--in the way of dress and scenery--so simple, that it can be easily gotten up in any household. in the full-page picture you will see our idea of the "make-up" of the artist, but as mr. bullywingle does not come out so well on so small a scale, we annex a picture of his head and shoulders as a guide to the reader. we feel disposed, however, to allow the largest latitude to the performers as to make-up. they can modify the dress of the characters according to circumstances. another reason we have for giving the portrait of mr. bullywingle is, that a large copy of it is required in the performance of the piece. in copying this it is no matter how ludicrously inaccurate your performance is, provided you make the face fiery red, the hair white, and the spectacles green. indeed, the worse the picture the funnier the effect. [illustration] _mr. bullywingle._--hat--white, with black band. face very red, culminating in a bright crimson on the nose. the face should be colored with vermilion, which can be procured in a powdered state at any color store. if you get it in this state mix it with water, to which add a very small quantity of gum or glue. the best plan, however, is, if convenient, to purchase a cake of vermilion such as is used for water-colors. hair, eyebrows, and moustache must be very white. the hair and moustache can be made white by dressing with plenty of pomatum, and then sprinkling them liberally with flour from the flour dredger. the imperial and eyebrows should be painted on the face with flake-white. procure two ounces of flake-white (in powder) in any paint store; mix it carefully with water till it is about as thick as molasses. a small piece of glue, about the weight of two beans, should be dissolved in the water before it is added to the flake-white. spectacles--green, which you can either borrow from a friend, buy at a store, or steal anywhere. if, however, you are too proud to steal, and you cannot get the specs any other way, you may cut them out of card-board and paint the proper color. as mr. bullywingle wears his specs on the end of his nose, never using them to look through, it is of little consequence whether they be transparent or not. cravat--large and white. shirt collar--large; can be cut out of writing-paper. coat--blue, with gilt buttons. vest and pants--light; the latter short in the legs. shoes--low. _mr. puttyblow_ (the artist).--nose red; eyebrows black, and painted above the natural eyebrows. this gives the eyebrows a continued elevated appearance, which is very comical in effect. the moustache and beard can either be painted with burnt cork or india-ink, or, which is far better, made out of curled hair and a little diachylon, as described in a previous chapter. if you wish to make the character very comic, you can turn up the nose with a piece of thread and stick a patch of court-plaster over one of your teeth, all of which has been described in earlier chapters. cap--something fancy, of bright color if possible. coat--anything comical and shabby. the young man is poor. pants--short in the legs. _miss macslasher_ must be attired in walking costume, and make herself look as elegant and pretty as possible. or in case the ladies won't act, or you happen to be out of pretty girls, you can get miss macslasher up as an old lady, and make her look as comical as you can. you see our play is on a compensating, self-adjusting principle. now we will give you a list of all the things you will require in the way of "properties," as they are called in stage parlance. before doing so, however, we must impress upon you the necessity of having a stage manager, otherwise you will surely get into a state of confusion and spoil the play. it is the duty of the stage-manager to collect the properties together and see that they are all in their right places. he will arrange the stage, and, if desirable, act as prompter. vermilion--to be procured at a paint store. flake-white and green paint--paint store. card-board for imitation spectacles, and glue--paint store. three or four camel's-hair pencils--paint store. india-ink or burnt cork. pomatum, butter or lard for hair. ten cents' worth of diachylon (in lump form, not plaster--remember this; also remember that the diachylon must be warmed before the fire to make it stick), which can be had at any drug store. flour for hair can be procured from the kitchen, if the barrel ain't gin' out. green spectacles. white cravat and large shirt-collar. blue or green coat, with bright buttons. vest and pantaloons, light in color. small piece of court-plaster or black silk, for tooth. curled hair from stuffing of mattresses. cap for artist, of bright color. coat for artist. pants for ditto, legs short. slippers for ditto. large portrait of mr. bullywingle. easel or stand for portrait. palette (the palette should be cut out of pasteboard, the cover of a large book, or something of that kind--a wooden palette would break when sat upon); a maul-stick and brushes, pictures, casts, etc., to give the artist's studio an artistic appearance. stale hard loaf of bread. knife--palette knife if possible. tray with two cups. tea-pot containing very weak tea. plates, butter, and pieces of crockery, to make a clatter. sheets, comfortable, shawls, or turkey-red, to make proscenium and drop-curtain. several sheets of tissue-paper, red and blue, to ornament proscenium. lamps to light the stage. deeds and legal documents for mr. bullywingle. umbrella for mrs. bullywingle. white hat with black band. towels, or rags, to cover and conceal artist's breakfast on a chair. slice of bread prepared with diachylon or hooked pins to stick to mr. bullywingle's coat-tail. bullywingle the beloved; a drama in one act. _dramatis personæ._ _mr. puttyblow_, an artist. _mr. bullywingle_, a bachelor who is beloved by women, or thinks himself so. _miss macslasher._ scene.--_an artist's studio._ curtain rises, or is pulled down, and discovers mr. puttyblow seated at an easel opposite a picture which is so placed that the audience cannot see the face of it. _mr. puttyblow_ (yawning). oh--on--on--awe--awe--oo--oo! oh, thunder! oh, pickled thunder, turnip-tops, trust, tick, and tomatoes! i wish to goodness, goose-pies, and the goddess of fame, some one would give me a commission to paint a picture--one thousand dollars--half cash in advance, and the balance on completion of the work--some grand heroic subject, which would send my name and fame resounding through the nations of the earth like the mighty avalanche of the alps, till the human race with one voice should stand back and exclaim--"that's him!" now, i think i could paint a picture of washington crossing the delaware in a style of art equally creditable to my feelings as an artist and an american citizen. i'd make washington--yes--i would not make him as they generally do, in a great, big, comfortable boat, with a new suit of clothes, looking up to heaven, while a lot of other fellows are shoving the boat through lumps of ice with hooks and pikes, and things of that kind. no! i'd make him swimming across, with the stars and stripes between his teeth and a horse-pistol of the period behind each ear. that's what i should call something like a picture. but all this is vain; instead of painting big pictures, and building my palatial villa on the hudson, i am stuck and starved in this miserable chamber--a poor artist with scarcely anything to feed upon but tobacco-smoke and my own ideas. talking about feed reminds me that i have had no breakfast yet. now breakfast is one of those ideas about which i have my own ideas--namely, to wit: that you can't continually do without it--that's to say, not as a steady thing. it grows monotonous after a time. that tea has been standing three-quarters of an hour, and ought to be now fit for human nourishment (pours out tea, which is quite colorless). rather weak--i may even go so far as to say exceedingly weak. it is like hancock's veterans, will stand any amount of fire for any length of time without changing color. but you are very weak, poor tea; like women, let us respect your weakness. the butter is strong enough to take care of you (smells butter). i wonder whether this butter is not manufactured near forty-second street, n. y. it strikes me i have smelt something very like it near the soap factory on the hudson river railroad. where's the knife (takes knife and loaf)? ah! here it is (tries to cut loaf, which resists all his efforts). this loaf is beginning to get slightly obstinate. most extraordinary thing how hard a loaf becomes after you have kept it for a week or two. however, i ain't the kind of man to let any darned baker's bread--ever baked--get the best of me. no! (takes up hatchet at one side, places bread on floor, and begins chopping it. cuts off a piece which he butters, and lays upon a chair.) now, puttyblow, my boy; you shall have bread and chops for breakfast. c-h-e-o-p-s--chops! chops with a large c. (a loud knocking is heard at the door.) oh, thunder! there's some one at the door--it will never do to let them see these things around (piles up cups and saucers on tray and covers them with towels. he leaves the slice of bread and butter, however, on the chair). it doesn't look prosperous; and nobody ever thinks anything of any one who isn't prosperous. (seats himself at easel, and pretends to be busy painting.) come in! enter _mr. bullywingle_. _mr. b._ ha! i've found a refuge at last, thank goodness! i'm all in a flutter--she nearly caught me. it was a dooced close shave. here am i tormented to death by women who will insist upon marrying me. 'pon my soul it is rather too bad that a man, because he is rather nice-looking and has a little money saved up, cannot leave his house without being pursued by all the women in creation wanting to marry him. i don't want to marry _them_. i don't see any particular fun in dividing all my property, my time, my comfort, my amusement, with another individual, besides giving that individual the life-long privilege of--the life-long right to dictate the temperature of the apartment in which i sit, the amount of light which shall illuminate my chamber; who shall be my associates; where i shall live; what i shall eat; what i shall drink--there's the rub! actually putting the power into the hands of a mortal like yourself to come between you and your social tod. oh, it's horrible to think of! marriage is a humbug. i wouldn't marry the bearded lady herself. but i wonder what kind of an office this is i've rushed into--not a lawyer's; no--doesn't smell of russia leather. not a government office; no--don't smell any whiskey. not p-e-t--yes, r-o--l-e-u-m; there's certainly a smell of oil around. ah, oh--yes, i see; it's some kind of a paint shop. i must trump up some business with the proprietor as an excuse for coming in. wonder, by the way, whether there's anybody about, after all? ah! yes, to be sure; bless my soul, there he is. (takes a step towards artist, and coughs. artist pretends to be deeply engaged in his art, and does not hear him.) ahem! ahem! wonder whether the poor creature is deef and dumb. ahem! ah, excuse me, sir, but--ah, that is fine day--ahem! good-morning, sir. _artist._ good-morning, sir. _mr. b._ you are a painter, are you not, sir? _artist._ that is my name--ah, that is to say, that is my profession. _mr. b._ i want you to paint me a sign for my store. _artist._ a what, sir? _mr. b._ a sign. jothan h. bullywingle, wholesale---- _artist._ wholesale fiddlestick! _mr. b._ wholesale dealer in---- _artist._ sir, i would have you to understand that i don't paint signs, sir. i am an artist--historical and portrait delineator. _mr. b._ oh, ah! yes, exactly; that's what i mean. i want you to paint my portrait--jothan h. bullywingle, wholesale--no, exactly as you were saying, my portrait. (aside)--by jove, i--i'm in for it. _artist._ would you like a full face? _mr. b._ (thoughtfully). why, pretty full. _artist._ or a side face? _mr. b._ oh, yes--a side face. _artist._ or a three-quarter face? _mr. b._ yes, a three-quarter face. yes, she was a blue one, i think, this last one. _artist_ (prepares seat). will you take a seat, mr. bully--bully---- _mr. b._ wingle. _artist._ will you take a seat, mr. wingle? _mr. b._ bully, sir. _artist._ take a seat, mr. winglebully. _mr. b._ yes, yes, certainly. (aside--i'm regularly stuck for a portrait.) certainly, sir; though you haven't got my name exactly right--not quite correct, my young friend. my name is bullywingle. (aside--the first one was purple and diamonds.) [mr. b. seats himself at opposite side of stage to artist, who sits down and prepares to paint.] _artist._ will you smile, sir? _mr. b._ (aside.) really, a very polite young man. thank you, i don't mind if i do--the least drop in the world; bourbon, or anything that's handy. _artist._ i mean, sir, will you be pleased to smile with your mouth? _mr. b._ (aside.) with my mouth? of course, with my mouth. does the young man fancy that i propose to drink through my nose, like an elephant? (aloud.) oh, yes, i'll smile with my mouth, of course. _artist._ i perceive you do not understand me, sir. i allude to the expression. _mr. b._ oh! i'm perfectly familiar with the expression--perfectly familiar with the _expression_. _artist._ mr. winglebully, i wish you to assume an agreeable expression of countenance in order that i may transfer your beautiful features to my canvas in a manner satisfactory to yourself, myself, and mankind generally. _mr. b._ oh, ah! yes, certainly--exactly--to be sure--bless my soul--yes. (mr. b. grins in an exaggerated manner). _artist._ ah--yes; that's it--that's it--just so. a little to the left. i'm afraid--keep your head up--i cannot give you a very long sitting to-day--i'm so crowded with sitters. (mr. b. forgets that he is sitting for his portrait and begins to look very melancholy and miserable.) i am obliged to--smile, if you please. (mr. b. starts and resumes his exaggerated grin.) i'm obliged to fix certain days and hours to receive my friends and patrons, otherwise they--will you smile, if you please?--otherwise they would not leave me a--will you smile, if you please, sir? look at me and think of something pleasant. think of a lady (mr. b. looks miserable and frightened). (aside--he doesn't look as if he were thinking of a lady, does he?) think of something pleasant, now--something pleasing. think of _hash_ (mr. b. brightens up). yes, hash. keep on thinking of hash, hash, hash! good gracious! will you smile, sir? hash--hash--hash! keep smiling--hash--that's it; hash! there, sir, will you be kind enough to look at that? you are a little rough and raw (mr. b. starts), but, of course, i have only rubbed you in. you will come out better at the second painting. _mr. b._ (rising and advancing towards the picture). oh, yes--yes, very good. the shirt-collar and the cravat are extremely like; but don't you think you might alter the rest? _artist._ well--ah--umph! i don't know. i think i have hit your eye exactly. (mr. b. starts slightly.) the hair is very fair, and i've got hold of your nose very satisfactorily. (mr. b. rubs his nose.) the mouth might look all the better, perhaps, for a little madder, but---- _mr. b._ oh, dear, no, it's quite mad enough. i don't wish to have a severe expression of countenance. _artist._ i refer to the color--the pigment. _mr. b._ the color the pig meant. the pig--the pig. i meant what i said, sir; and if you think to call me a pig with impunity you are very much mistaken. _artist._ oh, no--no--no, my dear sir; you mistake me. we artists use a beautiful pink color called madder, and i spoke of this as a pigment--no offence, not for the world. but allow me to place the picture in a better light; you can hardly judge of it in its present position. (turns easel and picture round facing the audience.) (aside.)--now won't he be an unreasonable old polypus to object to that as a likeness? (aloud.)--there, sir, now you can see it better. (they both sit down in chairs, the artist on his own palette and mr. b. on the slice of bread and butter left by the artist.) _artist._ now, sir, i think i have caught the expression of your eyes and spectacles; and as for the nose, it literally speaks, while the chin and mouth-- _mr. b._ yes--yes, but i don't think you have stuck quite closely enough to nature. there is nothing like sticking to a thing. (rises and moves towards picture, showing slice of bread sticking to his coat-tails. advances and examines picture critically.) _artist._ i declare, if the idiotic old grampus has not been sitting down on my bread and butter. it is most extraordinary that some people will never look where they sit down. (rises to remove bread and butter, and shows palette sticking to his dressing-gown behind.) the carelessness of some people is marvellous--really astonishing. _mr. b._ the shirt-collar is certainly very like; but don't you think the complexion is a little high? because i am really rather pale, you know. _artist_ (making futile endeavors to remove the bread and butter with one hand). ah, yes, perhaps that might be toned down a little. (aside.) i'll whitewash the old brute if he likes. (aloud.) if you will be kind enough to take a seat for two minutes i will try to avail myself of your valuable suggestion (looks around for his palette). now, where on earth can be my palette? (looks suspiciously at old mr. b.) he can't have been sitting down on that too--and yet i do believe he's stupid enough for anything. (looks for palette again.) no. (at this moment mr. b. sits down on the chair where mr. p. has concealed his breakfast, and everything goes with a crash.) _artist._ there goes that old porpoise again! all my breakfast gone--my beautiful tea and my elegant bread and butter. (to mr. b., who apologizes.) ah, never mind, sir--no consequence; only a few paint saucers, that's all. no consequence; take a seat over here. (seats old gent in the chair which mr. b. first occupied, and which artist has since used.) but my palette--where can it have gone? where's that d--d palette? let me see; i think i laid it on that chair. will you kindly rise for one moment, mr. winglebully? (looks at mr. b.'s back.) no! strange--let me see--oh! ah! yes--i--he sat over there. (a thought seems to have struck him. he begins to feel behind his own coat, where he finds the palette. produces it--his own fingers covered with paint.) there it is--i knew i'd put it somewhere. (here a knocking is heard at the door. mr. b. jumps up and grasps the artist by the hand, getting his own covered with paint in the operation.) _mr. b._ here she is! for heaven's sake, conceal me! [illustration: the drama of "bullywingle."--_see page ._] _artist._ here is who? _mr. b._ the blue woman. _artist._ the blue woman? _mr. b._ yes--they pursue me wherever i go. it's a blue woman now. yesterday it was a red woman. oh, all sorts of women--black women--green women--white women--for pity's sake, conceal me! they'd make a mormon or polygamist of me. (wipes his painted fingers over his face.) oh, my dear sir, you would not have me commit trigamy--you would not--but hide me somewhere--hide me! _artist._ here--here, behind the curtain. _lady_ enters. _lady._ is there a gentleman here? _artist._ em--ah! gentleman? no--no; that is to say, not exactly. _lady._ this is an artist's studio, is it not? _artist._ yes, madam; this is an artist's studio. _lady._ there is no other studio in this building? _artist._ this is the only studio in this building. will you take a seat, madam? _lady._ i was to meet an elderly gentleman here--my father--who was going to have his portrait taken. _mr. b._ (aside.) her father--that's a deep dodge. pretends to be after her father, the artful thing. _artist._ yes, madam. _lady._ he should have been here some time ago--that is to say, if i have come to the right place. _artist._ ah, yes; this is the right place. (aside.) hooray! here's another job. _mr. b._ (aside.) send her away! send her away! ah, you villain, are you going to betray me? _lady._ you seem to have a great many pretty pictures here. _artist._ ah--oh--well, a few little trifles. are you fond of art? _lady._ oh, yes--very. _artist._ i shall be happy to show you some of my sketches. if you will excuse me for a moment, i will bring them from the other room. _lady._ certainly, it will give me great pleasure to look at anything in the shape of pictures. i once studied poonah painting and potichomanie myself; and mamma's uncle, who was a great artist, and used to draw things with a red-hot poker, said he couldn't tell my pictures from life, almost--only i could never learn to do trees. don't you find trees very difficult? mamma's uncle used to say the only fault with my trees was that they looked like cabbages. i can paint cabbages very well; but then they don't look pretty in a picture, you know. _artist._ indeed, i doubt not your delicate hand would lend a charm to any object it might portray. nature is full of beauties, and there is a world of loveliness even in a cabbage. _mr. b._ (aside.) in a cabbage-head. _artist._ but i will bring you my portfolio--a few unworthy sketches which may serve to while away the moments till the arrival of your estimable father. [exit. _mr. b._ (aside.) good heaven! he is going to keep me here all day while he makes a fool of himself to that young woman. this will never do! i must escape. i must throw myself on her mercy. she has an awful vicious expression of countenance, though. however, she must have the heart of a woman. perhaps she has a brother; and how would she like to have him married against his will by fifteen women in blue? i will--yes, i will throw myself on her mercy. i will implore her to spare me. poor thing! i shall be sorry to break her heart--but it must be done.----courage, bullywingle--courage! (rushes out and throws himself at her feet.) my good young woman, spare me! think of your own brother, and spare me! [lady screams and rushes off. i cannot marry you all. if i did marry you i should make the red lady miserable for life, and the green lady would die of jealousy, and the yellow lady might commit suicide. enter _artist_, with portfolio, which falls on the floor. _artist._ you venerable reptile, what are you about! what do you mean, sir? get up, sir! i'll knock you down, sir! you've driven away one of my best customers. (they scuffle.) _mr. b._ but my dear sir--my good young friend, what was i to do? hear me--listen--leave go--you'll tear my coat--let go, or she'll be back, and then i'm lost! do you hear, you rascal! you'll tear my coat--there go my suspenders--there goes something else! i'll have you arrested for intent to do grievous bodily battery and commit violent matrimony--let go! _artist._ you old rascal--you old polypus--you old humbug--you are ruining me! (rushes to one side and returns with club or stick. a fight ensues. old gent strikes an attitude with umbrella.) _mr. b._ come on, mac what's your name! and damned be he who first cries hold--enough! _artist_ (aside). i'll be hanged if the old buffer ain't swearing! (aloud.) by all the powers i'll be revenged! as sure as my name is puttyblow i will be re-ve-n-ged! (is about to rush at old gent.) _mr. b._ pause, rash man! did you say puttyblow? _artist._ i did. _mr. b._ have you a strawberry mark on your left arm? _artist._ nature has ornamented me in the manner you describe. _mr. b._ are you short-sighted in your left eye? _artist._ such is my affliction. _mr. b._ do you snore at nights? _artist._ so i have been informed by the people over the way, who have sent over several times to expostulate with me in the most offensive terms possible. _mr. b._ and sleep late in the morning? _artist._ i do. _mr. b._ (rushing forward.) my long-lost son! _artist._ excuse me for one moment. have you a gooseberry bush on your left arm? _mr. b._ gooseberry? no--no--not specially. _artist._ do you wear corns or paper collars? _mr. b._ well, i've had chilblains. _artist._ are you subject to hydrophobia? _mr. b._ well, not precisely; but i've been run over by a broadway omnibus. _artist._ are you in the habit of committing suicide? _mr. b._ well--i--i--don't know--i travel on the hudson river railroad sometimes. _artist._ come to my arms, my long-lost father! [they embrace. _mr. b._ bless you, my boy--bless you! bless you! enter _lady_. artist sees her, and struggles to escape from mr. b.'s grasp. _artist._ let go--let me go--drat it all, let go. _mr. b._ bless you, my boy--bless you! _lady._ i have left my portemonnaie in your studio--will you be kind enough to let me have it? _mr. b._ young woman, spare me! _lady_ (to artist). pray protect me from this venerable ruffian. _mr. b._ (aside.) venerable ruffian! come, now, that is what the boys call rather rough. (aloud.) then you don't love me? _lady._ if you insult me further, i shall inform my father. _mr. b._ then you have a father?--wonderful! are you sure of it--no deception? what is his name? where does he live? tell me quick--quick--do not deceive me! _lady._ my father, sir, is general macslasher, who will not allow his daughter to be insulted with impunity. _mr. b._ macslasher! the brave macslasher, who married my half-cousin columbia ann, of pickleville, indiana? _lady._ indeed, it is true. _mr. b._ come to my arms, my long-lost niece! no, not niece; cousin--second cousin--oh, hang the relationship! come to my arms, any way! but hold--you are the richest heiress in new york. i have the deeds in my pocket to prove it. by the will of your late grandfather grampus you are the sole possessor of six blocks on broadway, trinity church, erie railroad, two steamboats on the hudson river that won't burst, and vast territories on coney island. _artist._ good gracious! _mr. b._ happy hour--auspicious moment! to have thus met my son and niece on the same day. puttyblow, my son--no longer puttyblow, but bullywingle--this is the lady i have destined for you for ten long years, if i could only have found you. she is rich and beautiful. i know you love each other; and if you don't, make believe you do, or you'll spoil the play. bullywingle, junior, embrace your bride! take her and be happy! bless you, my children--bless you! grand tableau. mr. puttyblow and miss macslasher embrace. mr. bullywingle opens his umbrella, and, standing on one leg, holds it over them. chapter xvi. it may be remembered that in a recent chapter we mentioned being in a _tranquil mood_, and, while in that condition, calling on our friend nix, and further, that nix introduced us that same evening to some ladies with brown eyes. since that event the _tranquil_ moods have come over us periodically, with rapidly increasing virulence. so much so that latterly we have found it desirable to dispense with the cumbrous ceremony of going round to call for nix. the fact is we have taken a great fancy to _that_ boy little pickle; he is certainly a very fine boy. it occurs to us at this moment that we have not yet given a name to this family. their real name is one of those which recall old revolutionary times directly it is uttered. one of those names which, to ourself at least, at once summons up a picture of marching ranks of men in three-cornered hats and yellow breeches, toiling forward with glistening muskets over their shoulders, past rows of quaint gabled houses. we cannot give the real name, of course--that is out of the question--so we will call them adams, because that is not their name. then we will subdivide them as follows: mrs. adams, bud, blossom, and berry. we christen them thus because these were the titles they received in a little floral and pomological game we once played. the adams family were going to give a party. we were called in as consulting engineer, to suggest attractions. we readily accepted the office. the reader knows our system and will easily guess our first order. objects to provoke conversation! pig made out of lemon. good! the pig was made and applauded. "but," suggested bud, "why confine ourselves to a pig; surely we can make something else." "surely," we assented. so all of us set our wits to work at zoology. bud made the first discovery. "oh!" she exclaimed, "i have found out something beautiful--a whole litter of little pigs to go with the lemon!" and, indeed, 'twas true. in a few seconds she had some almonds soaking in a cup of boiling water. in a few seconds more she was peeling off their brown jackets, revealing the smooth white nut, as white as the tips of her own taper fingers. the almonds were soon converted into sucking-pigs, and were admitted on all hands to look quite cunning, and as natural as nature, with their little white bodies grouped round the maternal lemon--some running, some standing, and some seated on their haunches. [illustration] we need not explain to the gifted reader the _modus operandi_. it is much the same as with the lemon, only the eyes are dotted with a black lead pencil and the ears are made from small slips of wood. [illustration] stimulated by the success of bud, blossom dived down into the depths of her imagination, and fished out a goat. the goat was unquestionably a triumph. the body consisted of a pear, the head of an unbleached almond, the legs, horns, and beard of raisin stalks. [illustration] on the same principle, and with wonderful celerity, berry took up the idea, gracefully acknowledged her indebtedness to the original inventor, and produced a deer--a deer with wide-spreading antlers made of raisin stalks, and legs of the same material, which counterfeited nature even to the knee-joints. the neck cost some little mental exertion, but was finally triumphed over in the following shape, neatly cut out of wood. the deer now appeared truly a monarch of the forest; a little weak in the shoulders perhaps, and rather full-chested behind, but still a noble animal. [illustration] not to be outdone with her own idea, blossom wrestled vigorously with her subject, and ere we had ceased admiring the deer, had very nearly completed a sheep--a sheep so fleecy and short in the legs that it was at once voted the greatest triumph of all, though we personally and privately thought, and still think, that, for true genius, bud's idea of the pigs far exceeded any of them. the white almond certainly made a most admirable sheep's head, but then apple, of which the body was made, grew rapidly rusty when once peeled--so much so that we had to scrape our sheep once or twice in the course of the evening to restore its fleeciness. [illustration] [illustration] having made large herds of deer, flocks of goats and sheep, not to mention litters of pigs, we disposed some of them on the mantel-piece and what-nots, while others were reserved to make a grand pastoral scene on the supper table. having finished these, we devoted our energies to constructing scent-bags and mice, the latter made out of apple-seeds, as described in a previous chapter. here the transcendent genius of bud again asserted itself--she invented a rat; a rat made out of an unbleached almond. when grouped with the mice and flour-sacks the effect was truly grand. what now? "what shall we make next?" was the general inquiry. "oh, can't you make something that will jump up?" eagerly suggested little pickle, who had kept pretty quiet during our zoological researches. "can't you make something that will jump up?" this was so vague that we were fain to demand further light. "oh, you know at our school one of the boys made a kind of thing with a bit of wax that jumped up and frightened you." this was still far from clear, but whatever it might be, it was evidently calculated to frighten somebody, and so was immediately voted down by the ladies. "oh, make that gorilla portrait, you know," again entreated little pickle; "that makes such fun." this proposition, though received coolly, was, nevertheless, discussed at some length, till blossom called her sister's attention to the fact that one of their invited guests would be a certain dr. o'tang, who really did resemble a gorilla, and should the glass fall into his hands, he would feel hurt at the joke; so little pickle's second proposition was voted down. we now felt a heavy weight of responsibility hanging on our shoulders. six brown eyes were resting upon us, each as deep and brown as a mountain pool. "can we not do something with paper?" suggested bud, her exquisite genius again coming to our aid. this suggestion gave us the cue. "i have it," we exclaimed; "i will teach you to make stained glass. to be sure, it is only a variation of your own beautiful art of making transparencies; still, if you have never heard of the process, it may afford some amusement, and help you to decorate your rooms." one apartment in the house of adams was of the kind known as _extension room_. the two windows which separated this apartment from the back parlor served admirably to exhibit the new art. the object of the process is to produce an effect somewhat similar to the heraldic painting on the casements of old european houses, and is done thus: you procure several sheets of tissue paper of various colors, a pair of scissors, and some fine boiled paste. you fold a sheet of the paper twice, then cut out of the folded paper a form--say, for example, like the one on the left: so that when the sheet is open there will be two pieces like the one on the right. [illustration] paste one of these in the centre of the window-pane you wish to decorate, then paste the other over it, only lapping over a little on one side and below, as represented in this diagram. when this is dry it will have a very pretty effect. of course you can cut the papers in any form you choose and have them in different colors--red over green, or yellow over blue. you may also stitch one pattern of a smaller size right in the centre of another, or paste three or four different patterns one above the other, as illustrated by our subjoined cuts. [illustration] having delivered our short lecture (illustrated with examples) to the six brown eyes, and also to the six white ears--like quaint sea-shells from the shores of elysium--we all proceeded to operate on the windows before mentioned, and we are glad to say with the most pleasing results. [illustration] our scissorings with the colored paper brought to light an accomplishment of little pickle, which set us all to work anew with scissors and pen and ink for some time. master adams's system was this: he took a small piece of writing paper, and dropping a minute quantity of ink in the centre, then folded it right across the blot and rubbed it over with his finger. when the paper was opened it displayed some curious form or another. this, with a few touches of the pen, we generally made to resemble some object in nature. bud made an excellent stag's head on one occasion, which we subjoin. [illustration] but little pickle's course of instruction did not stop with blots. he folded bits of paper and cut them into grotesque patterns, and set us all to filling them up with pictures. the great art consisted in making your design conform to the outline of the paper. one of these, which we happened to have brought away by accident, we have here engraved. it was drawn by bud, and is really very clever. that was a very delightful evening we passed with the adams's. little pickle is a very fine boy; guess we will call for him on our road up in the afternoon--to go skating. [illustration] that night, when we reached home, we found nix had called and left us a very curious work--_the veda, or the sacred writings of the hindoos_. we slept sweetly, and dreamed we were reclining on the banks of the ganges conversing pleasantly with brahma. singular dream, was it not? chapter xvii. blue and white christmas, with his henchman, santa claus, having come and gone, leaving behind him, however, for a while, his raiment of white and blue, with a host of dear memories for our hearts' nourishment through the next twelvemonth's stage in this journey of life, we think we cannot better show our appreciation of his goodness than by painting a portrait of that small fraction of the universal jollity which fell to our individual lot. we have some friends who live in the country, a long way from sidewalks and gas and railroads, or at least far enough off to debar the dear souls from many tastes of city pleasures. so, as these friends cannot well go to town for amusement, and as they have a large love of fun and several small children, they try to bring amusements home on all festive occasions. to this house, with a small party of mutual acquaintances, we went our way on the twenty-fifth of december last. before starting there were great business operations to be performed, and such a time as we had of it! one item was easily managed, and caused no mental anxiety. we went _en masse_ to ridley's, and, after waiting in a crowd of crinoline for some time, came away each with his dexter coat-pocket swelled out with a pound package of mixed candies. that, of course, was simple enough; but when it came to buying something else--something of a more durable nature--then our ingenuity was, indeed, put to the test. it will be seen that our task was no ordinary one. there were three of us, and we each wished, according to our annual custom, to present each member of the family with some appropriate gift; and as there were five in the family, namely--papa, mamma, daughter aged eleven, son aged four, and another daughter aged two, and assuming that we each only gave one object to each of the individuals in the country house, it would make--three fives are fifteen--fifteen different objects to be purchased, every one of which ought to differ from the other, besides being unlike anything they would be already likely to possess. when we came to compare notes, we found that we had, to a man, privately and separately resolved to present papa with a meerschaum pipe; two out of the three had thoughts of giving mamma a dressing-case; while the unanimity on the subject of work-boxes, dolls, and jumping-jacks was really marvellous. but we must not linger around fancy-stores, and over candy counters, and in city streets. we have a long evening before us away off in the country, over miles of snowy roads. it is enough that, by the aid of a steaming locomotive, which whizzed and buzzed and thundered us through the lonely snow-clad cuttings, as though it were saying: "come along! come along! come along! hurry up! pish! phew! here's another stoppage! clear the track! don't keep us waiting!" stopping only now and then, stock still, to brighten up the mean way-station into a glow of mysterious grandeur, with fitful flashes of light, as though it were some monster fire-fly of the season. by means of this lusty bug at first, and afterwards by a rickety, ramshackle, old shandradan of a hack, tortured along by two horses, one of which was balky, we reached the house of our entertainers, where the light streamed out through the red curtains to meet us, and glorified the snow in our path long before we pulled up at the hospitable door. mr. and mrs. merryweather both greeted us heartily before we had kicked the snow from our boots; while the former, with a celerity equally creditable to his head and legs, dashed into the kitchen, and reappeared with three smoking glasses of hot brandy-punch. "here, boys," he cried, "take this. it will keep the cold out. come, i insist upon it." mr. greeley and other good people tell us that it is all wrong to drink spirituous liquors, and we are not quite clear ourself as to the propriety of the practice. but there was something genial in the thoughtful attention of our friend merryweather, and something else grateful in the aroma of the brandy-punch, that certainly made us all feel more truly welcome and happy than had we been politely shown up-stairs to wash our hands in a cold bedroom, with the prospect of two doughnuts and a cup of weak tea to follow. aunty delluvian was of the party, being a very old friend of the family. with regard to the company generally, it may be defined as mixed. some of the children, whose parents were neighbors, betrayed their status by the excess of starch and bright colors which characterized their dresses; while others from the city displayed all the ostentatious simplicity of cultivated taste. mr. merryweather opened the entertainment with an exceedingly well intentioned, though rather transparent, display of prestidigitation (if that is the way to spell the abominable word); but as most of his tricks depended upon the use of a new and complete set of conjuring apparatus he had purchased for the occasion, we will not linger over his magic rings and dice and cups. two items, however, in his performance being attainable by very simple means, we will describe. at one stage in the entertainment it seemed absolutely necessary that he should have the aid of a small boy, in order to make six copper cents pass from under a hat to the top of a bird-cage. making known his want, a red-faced youth with black curly hair volunteered his services. the juvenile, be it observed, had rendered himself somewhat conspicuous by declaring at the end of every trick that he knew how it was done, and by inquisitively desiring to inspect the interior of goblets and the bottoms of boxes. merryweather's eyes twinkled as this gentleman tendered his assistance. "here," he said, producing a small trumpet, "this is my magic horn. take it in your right hand, till i say: 'heigh! presto! pass!' then, if your lungs are strong enough, and you blow with sufficient force, those six cents will pass from under the hat to the top of that cage yonder." the youth took his stand firmly, looked knowingly, and placed the trumpet to his lips confidently. "are you ready?" asked mr. merryweather. "then, heigh! presto! pass!" in an instant the face of the bold volunteer, black hair, red cheeks, and all, were white as the driven snow; and comic enough he looked, as he gaped round with a chap-fallen expression, puzzled beyond measure to know into what condition he had blown himself. he had, in truth, blown himself all over flour, the trumpet being constructed for that special purpose. [illustration] [illustration] this instrument is very simple. you first procure a tube of tin, or wood, or card-board, of about two inches in diameter. a box of the desired shape can be found in the store of almost any druggist, or in default of that, a wide-mouthed vial can be made to answer. the next thing required is a thin tube, for which a piece of elder or a stick of maccaroni will answer. these, with a large cork or bung, are all the materials that are required. having cut a slice off the cork of about half an inch in thickness, you fit it tightly into the centre of the large tube; then cut another slice of the cork to fit into one end of the tube; but, before fixing it, cut some notches round the edge, and make a hole in the centre large enough to hold firmly the smaller tube. now fix the smaller tube in the second cork, so that it will extend about two-thirds of the way down one of the compartments in the larger tube; fix the second cork (the one with the notches in it) in the mouth of the large tube, and the trumpet is made. by referring to the diagram, you will probably get a better idea of the construction of this weapon than from our description. when you wish to use the instrument, pour flour through the notches you have cut in the cork, and it is ready. any one blowing sharply through the small tube will, of course, blow all the flour in his own face. the second item in mr. merryweather's entertainment we propose to describe is still more simple. one of his feats consisted in burning a hole in a pocket-handkerchief. to do this he required fire, so he ordered his assistant to bring in a candle, which was accordingly done, the candle being already lighted. as soon as mr. merryweather cast his eyes upon the luminary, he feigned to fly into a terrible passion, roundly rating the unfortunate attendant for presenting him with such a miserable fag-end of an old kitchen dip. then taking the candle from the candlestick, he held the wretched stump up to the audience, and appealed to them whether it was not disgraceful that he, the great wizard of the western world, should be presented with such a paltry luminary. "why," he exclaimed, "i could eat a dozen such for lunch!" and, suiting the action to the word, blew out the light, and popped the offending morsel in his mouth, and quietly munched it up. a subdued cry of horror echoed through the apartments, above which was heard the exclamation of aunty delluvian: "if the man isn't crunching his candle!" [illustration] to those not familiar with it, this trick is certainly startling. the truth is that the candle in question is made out of a piece of apple, with a small peg cut from a nut or almond for a wick. the almond wick will light readily, and burn brightly for some time, so that the deception is perfect. these diagrams will show the form in which to cut the candle and the wick, no. representing the candle in its completed state, and no. the wick before it is inserted. the great wizard having completed his performances and retired into private life, even to the extent of handing cake round to the ladies and drinking a glass of wine himself, he mingled freely with the throng, but did not, however, unbend immediately, but smiled condescendingly when the ladies expressed admiration and surprise at the supernatural powers he had just displayed. aunty delluvian continued to evince considerable disgust at our friend for eating the tallow candle, a feeling which found vent in utterance of the monosyllables: "finn! the finn! the finn!" this good aunty favored us with a narrative concerning an uncle of hers, who was a sea-captain, and once made a voyage to "moscow!" it was a peculiarity, be it observed, of aunty delluvian, that she appeared to have uncles ready at hand for all emergencies. she told us that this uncle, when at the sclavonic capital, invited some russian officers on board his ship to dine. the dinner was of the most sumptuous description, but the muscovites seemed to take but little interest in the repast, until something on deck happened to call the host up-stairs; on his return he found all the guests looking more cheerful. they chatted pleasantly until the party broke up; and then, and not till then, he discovered that his friends, during his absence, had drunk all the oil out of the lamps, eaten six boxes of candles stowed away under the table, and had even devoured the shaving-soap off his dressing-table. [illustration: the headless body.--_see page ._] we had a faint recollection of having heard this story before, and quite pleased aunty delluvian by telling her so; she considered it quite a tribute to her uncle's popularity. the second feature of the evening's programme was of a less cheerful character than the first, consisting of the display of a no more pleasing object than a bodyless head. our illustration on next page will at once place the scene before our readers, bereft, however, of some of the grim features of the real spectacle; for, as we beheld it, there was the real flesh tint, and the eyes rolled fearfully. startling and complete as is the illusion in this case, it is very simply managed. get some person with a high forehead and tolerably long hair, and paint under the eyes a pair of eyebrows, and on the forehead a nose and pair of moustaches, as represented in the annexed cut. then make the person lie down on his back under a table, in such a way that you can arrange a curtain so as to conceal all the body and half the face. brush the hair out to resemble a beard, and you have a perfect representation of a bodyless head. [illustration] for painting the moustaches and eyebrows, indian-ink or burnt cork will answer. there is one advantage which the spectacle can boast of: it affords the ladies an opportunity for giving those sweet little musical shrieks which are so charming, and of being frightened generally--some ladies look very bewitching when they are frightened--besides giving ladies an excuse for clinging to gentlemen's arms, which is very pleasant for the gentlemen. mr. merryweather now introduced to our notice a young gentleman who was detailed to amuse us with some specimens of ventriloquism. we had no notion before this time, when our attention was particularly drawn to the subject, how much suitable action has to do with ventriloquial illusions. as performed before us by the young gentleman in question, whose name was noddles, the deception was capital; but when the sounds were reproduced in a private room, without action, for our special instruction, we marvelled that any one could have been deluded by them. first of all, mr. noddles imitated the drawing of a cork. to give effect to this, he turned his back to the audience, and feigned to have a bottle between his knees. the method of doing this is so simple that we think we can almost describe it in words. first you make three or four chirps in succession, such as people are in the habit of making to birds; this sounds like driving in the corkscrew. then you place your fore-finger in your mouth, and force it out so as to make a loud pop, which signifies that the cork is drawn. then you smack your lips together, producing a sound something like "pop--pop--pop--pop--pop--pop" rapidly, to imitate the wine bubbling from the bottle. _voilà tout!_ after that, mr. noddles pretended to call to a mason up the chimney, the mason answering in a husky voice from above, and finally proceeding with his work of knocking out a brick. the knocking was produced much in the same way as the pouring out the wine, by parting the lips suddenly; only, in the case of the brick, the note was in a deeper key, more resembling "bubp--bubp--bubp--bubp." we noticed particularly that when the performer addressed the person up the chimney, he spoke with especial clearness, delivering the words, as much as possible, from the lips. this was in order to produce a strong contrast to the tones of the man up the chimney, which were produced far down in his own throat. another of his performances was to pretend that a dog was under the lounge, which refused to come out, and finally bit him when he tried to drag it out by the leg. still another consisted in imitating a man outside the door trying to force it open. sometimes the supposed man would succeed in forcing the door a short way, when a gush of his loud voice would rush in, to be immediately cut short by the sudden closing of the door. [illustration] mr. noddles concluded his part of the entertainment by the performance of the jumping rabbit--the rabbit on this occasion being made out of a lady's fur cuff tied up with a piece of string. this crude counterfeit of bunny he laid on the palm of his left hand, with one end resting against his fingers, as represented in the cut, while with the other hand he stroked and caressed it, saying at the same time, "be still, bunny--don't run away; if you run away the dogs will catch you, and you will be made into chicken-pie, and your skin will be made into a fur cap and sold in the bowery to--hallo! hold on! hi!" the latter exclamations being elicited by the rabbit jumping up his arm, while he struggled to capture it and bring it back with his right hand. the first jump made by the rabbit was produced by a sharp jerk of the fingers, which sometimes sends him flying into the middle of the room with a most lifelike effect. but now a more imposing portion of the programme claims our attention. a subdued jingling of bells is heard at the door, a few spasmodic bumps, and in trots the patron saint of the day--good santa claus, sleigh, reindeer, red cap, and all. (see next page.) it may not have been polite, but we could not help it, and greeted the good saint with an unrestrained roar of laughter. surely never before was seen out of noah's ark such a comical steed, such legs, such proportions, and such a dislocated style of locomotion. no matter, he amused us more than a whole troop of the veritable article from spitzbergen; and, as a simple act of justice between man and beast, we must admit that he propelled santa claus and his turn-out in a most efficient, not to say intelligent, style around the room. this was the merryweather substitute for a christmas-tree. santa claus came to distribute the christmas-gifts--a task he performed with a discretion beyond his years. it is pleasing to record that no one, not even the dullest in the company, recognised master georgy in his disguise; but one and all, with admirable tact, feigned to be completely taken in, and fully believed that they were receiving a visit from the good saint himself. [illustration: the arrival of santa claus.--_see page ._] [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] after the _vulgaris pueris_, the _elephant_, and other specimens of zoology, it is almost needless to explain how the reindeer was constructed. our illustration seems almost superfluous; still, something may be made a little clearer by them; and to them we refer the reader who wishes to learn how to build a reindeer. in the case before us, the hide of the deer was made out of a pair of army blankets, purchased by merryweather for five dollars in chambers street--about the best material that could possibly be selected for the purpose. these he cut out and fitted himself, and had them sewed on his wife's sewing-machine. the head and horns were made of thick brown paper, and here is the most difficult part of the animal to describe--not the most difficult to make, bear in mind. we hate long explanations, and yet we feel puzzled now, as we have often been before, to tell you how to make this reindeer mask. however, here goes: you require two or three sheets of thick brown paper, a bowl of paste (flour and water boiled), and a block of wood, from the wood-pile, of about six or seven inches in diameter. (see annexed cut.) you moisten one sheet of the paper slightly, and then mould it over the block; having done this, you smear the entire surface with paste, and mould another sheet of paper over that; then you smear the second sheet over with paste, and mould a third sheet over all; then let them stand till dry. this, when dry, can be removed from the block, and will give you a hollow cone on which you can paint the eyes and mouth of the deer, and to which you can likewise paste the horns, as indicated in this diagram. it may strike you that the diagram looks more like a bottle-nosed shark than the face of any denizen of the forest. you must not, however, be discouraged on this account; it will look all right when you get it in its proper place. need we add, that after this we had supper; when good-humor culminated in the grand old song of "auld lang syne," all singing and joining hands round the table, down even to the little two and a half year old dolly, whose _auld lang syne_ dated no further back than two strawberry seasons. the idea of taking a "richt gude wully wut" with such a wee mite of a thing was so very comic that we all laughed right merrily, while mrs. merryweather, with tears in her eyes, clasped the child to her bosom as though she would protect it from some impending danger, possibly the approach of the monster "richt gude wully wut." the ladies and children retired. and we gentlemen soothed our excited nerves with a quiet cigar in mr. merryweather's library. chapter xviii. we shall now amuse the fireside with a little song, or rather we will try to tell our friends how to gladden their own chimney-corners with the songs of birds through the long winter evenings. it will be pleasant when the wind is howling without among the snow-laden limbs of the trees, to be reminded of the gay summer by the counterfeit notes of the woodland songsters. still, we must warn our readers, that to acquire the art thoroughly needs patience and perseverance; we can but tell them how to make and use the instrument, and the rest they must learn for themselves. first look at the annexed diagram, and then procure a leek and cut off from the green leaf thereof a piece about the size of the diagram; then lay it on a smooth table, and with the thumb-nail delicately scrape away a semicircular patch of the green pulpy substance of the leaf (as represented in the diagram), being careful to leave the fine membrane or outer skin of the leaf uninjured--and there is the instrument complete. it may require several experiments to make the first one, but once having discovered the right way, they are very easily manufactured. the reader may not be aware of the fact that the leaf of the leek has a fine transparent outer skin which is quite tough, but by breaking and carefully examining one or two leaves, he will soon find out to what we allude. [illustration] the way of using this instrument is to place it in the roof of the mouth with the side on which is the membrane downwards; then press it gently in its place with the tongue, and blow between the tongue and the upper teeth. after the first two or three attempts, you will be able to produce a slight sound like a mild grunt; then as you practise it you will find that you can prolong and vary the sound somewhat, so that in the course of a couple of days you can imitate the barking of a dog and the neighing of a horse. with two or three weeks' practice, you will be able to imitate some of the song-birds; but to produce exact counterfeits of the best singing-birds will probably require months of study; the result, however, will reward you for all your pains; for certainly to be able to carry a mocking-bird, canary, thrush, cat-bird, and sucking-pig in your vest-pocket is no small accomplishment. when not using the instrument, it should be kept in a glass of water to prevent its drying. chapter xix. those _tranquil moods_ of which we have twice spoken come over us with still increasing frequency. little pickle is certainly a very smart boy. we are giving him lessons in drawing; he comes on rapidly, but requires a great deal of attention. our time passes peaceably enough in study and contemplation. nix has procured us some more works of brahminical lore. it is a curious religion, that of the hindoos, resembling in many points christianity. nix declares, in his good-natured way, that we are more than half converted already, and threatens to send a missionary to reason us back from heathenism, as we need a minister badly. he is an exceedingly good-natured fellow is nix, though a little broad, perhaps, at times, in his style of jocularity. our readers are probably not aware that there is a certain form of vulgar humor known as a sell, which consists in inducing some person to ask you a question, and then giving some idiotic answer in reply. the other day nix overtook us in broadway. after talking a few minutes he exclaimed: "oh, by the way, i have a note for you," at the same time feeling vigorously in his pockets. "when did you get it? who is it from?" we inquired, with some earnestness, for we were expecting a letter from some one. "don't know--don't know," he replied, continuing to fumble in his pockets. "ah, here it is." at the same time grasping one hand, he placed in it an oat--one seed of the grain upon which horses and scotchmen are fed. nix laughed boisterously, and told us we were _sold_. we don't see very much fun in it. we have spent another pleasant evening at the adams'. we mentioned in a recent chapter making some preparations for a little party they were about to give. well, it went off very pleasantly indeed; there were no hitches and no awful pauses. indeed, our own pleasure would have been unalloyed had it not been for the presence of one officious person with large whiskers, who (there are always one or more such persons in every assembly) obtruded his attentions too much on the ladies; we observed that bud, amongst others, was quite embarrassed by them. she was too well bred, however, to allow him to perceive her vexations, though i must say i think there is is such a thing as carrying complaisance and self-abnegation too far. the scientific gentleman with gold spectacles was there, and had an electrical novelty for us which attracted much attention. at first we supposed the gentleman named was giving little pickle lessons in skating, for he was directing that youth's movements as he shuffled up and down the hearth-rug in his slippered feet. rather jealous for the credit of our pupil, we informed the spectacles that there was nothing in the way of skating he could teach master pickle, he being already a proficient in that art. to which he only replied: "put your knuckle to his nose." rather staggered by this request, which savored somewhat of the ruder style of badinage, and the very last thing we expected from the decorous gentleman of science, we replied, with just a shade of hauteur: "sir?" "put your knuckle to his nose." "really, i do not comprehend you." "put your finger to his nose and you will get a shock." all this time little pickle was sliding and _slithering_ up and down the rug in a manner highly calculated to wear out that costly piece of furniture. "you perceive," continued spectacles, in an explanatory way, "that he has slippers on his feet. by keeping his feet in close contact with the rug, and rubbing them violently up and down, he generates electricity in his body to such an extent that he can transmit quite a sensible shock to another person.[ ] now try!" [ ] the spark emitted is sufficiently powerful to light a jet of gas. we tried. tick! a most unmistakable spark passed from the nose of l. p. to our knuckle. the guests now began to crowd round, applying their knuckles to the poor boy's nose to that extent that it grew quite red, which, combined with a trifling unsteadiness his legs acquired from the unusual exertion, gave the dear boy quite a _groggy_ appearance. indeed, we observed his mother soon after draw him towards her and, stooping down, whisper something in his ear, at which he colored up, shook his head, and replied quickly, "no, only lemonade." the scientific person, who was really a very amiable gentleman after all, taught us during the evening to make quite a curious little toy--to wit, a miniature camera. having enlisted the services of little pickle, he procured a small pill-box, a minute fragment about half an inch square of broken looking-glass, and a fragment of beeswax. he first bored a small hole in the centre of the lid of the pill-box and another in the side; he then, with the aid of the beeswax, stuck the piece of the mirror across the bottom of the box at an angle of forty-five degrees to the axis of the disc of the box, so that by looking through one hole he could see objects through the other hole, thus enabling a person to look behind him. we feel that this description is not very clear, and yet for the life of us we do not know how to make it clearer. the best plan for the reader will be to look well at the diagrams showing the inside and outside of the camera, get the wax, glass, and pill-box, and then _potter_ about with them till he gets it right. [illustration] camera led the conversation in our corner of the room to the subject of optical illusions, when some one of course suggested the hat experiment. there is probably nothing the proportions of which are so deceptive as a hat. reader, if you have never tried the experiment, take a stick and point out on the wall how high you think a hat would reach from the floor if placed on its crown, as represented in our sketch. [illustration] aunty delluvian, the first to try, took the stick and boldly measured off a distance of between two and three feet, and utterly laughed to scorn the moderate persons who satisfied themselves with ten inches. after each of the measurements was marked with a pencil, and the hat itself put beside them, showing every one to be wrong, aunty's amazement knew no bounds. indeed, she would not be satisfied till we brought our own hat to convince her that some deception had not been practised. this was aunty delluvian's first visit to the adams', having only recently been introduced through the agency of nix. i was, therefore, not unprepared for some criticism on our friends; but when the good lady, towards the close of the evening, took us to one side and said confidentially and emphatically, nodding her head at the same time knowingly, "no flippery, flummery. i like her!" we were a little surprised, the statement was so emphatic and yet so vague. that was all she said, walking away briskly when she had so delivered herself, as though she had rendered a final verdict. to which of the family did she refer? to mrs. adams, we presume, and yet she might have said something about the other members of the family. she is a queer creature is aunty delluvian. we are disposed to think that the art of entertaining is rarely if ever regarded as an art, and certainly never treated as such. we, however, on this occasion, laid our plans and arranged our forces with as much care and skill as a general exercises in laying out a campaign. we have as profound a respect for a good commissary as ever did napoleon bonaparte. we had our reserve, too, and our signal corps, so that should the battle waver at any moment, it might be immediately set going again. amongst other resources, we had a number of surprise pictures concealed in a certain place, which were to be produced when occasion might require. one of these will be found on opposite page, and comprises fifteen faces in one. pictures of this kind always amuse, and are fine provocatives of conversation. [illustration: fifteen faces in one.--_see page ._] reader, when you give a party, do not bring your entire force into action at first; always have a reserve to fall back upon. we saw a whole group which was showing alarming symptoms of demoralization rallied with a pocket-handkerchief. nix saw the emergency, drew his handkerchief, tied one end round the tip of his finger, on which, with a few dots of the pen, he had indicated a comic face, and threw himself into the dispirited crew, exclaiming: "this is rantepolefungus, the mysterious magician of morocco." then, in a feigned voice: [illustration] [illustration] "how do, pretty ladee and gentlemen? me tell fortune, work spell, makee incantation. me tell you fortune, pretty missee; you be, by-a-by, sixt wife great street contractor; favorite wife, he givee dust-cart full of greeny-back; much lovee you; cut off head of all other wife, makee you much happy; he givee you large gold ring big's flour-barrel to wear in your nosee, and six whiskey cocktails every morning. pretty ladee, give great magician buckshees," and a whole string of other nonsense, the little moor moving his head and hands all the time, suiting the action to the words. the sketches opposite will show how the moor is made. as we walked home with nix, smoking our cigars, we agreed that the party had been managed with consummate generalship. as we parted, he asked us if we should like to have a small statue of vishnu? wonder what he meant. chapter xx. those red and green lights which lend such a glory to the final tableaux of fairy pieces on the public stage, can easily be introduced into private parlor performances. there is no danger in using them; they are quite inexpensive, and very easily managed. warning, however, should be given to all asthmatic persons to vacate the ranch before firing off, as their fumes are apt to produce unpleasant results. when we first performed the play of _bullywingle the beloved_, the red light was calculated on as a startling feature of the performance. at the proper moment the match was applied, the combustibles behaved handsomely, everybody was entranced, all save one unfortunate gentleman, subject to asthma, who created quite a sensation by rushing out of the house in a choking condition, and remaining speechless in the snow for over twenty minutes. the mode of working these lights is to place one of the powders, for which we shall presently give you prescriptions, in an iron shovel, and apply a lighted match. the powder will begin to burn slowly, emitting a bright red or green light, accompanied by volumes of smoke. before exhibiting these lights, all others in the room, gas or lamps, should be turned down as low as possible. if the operator stands behind the scenes, so as to be out of sight during the performance, the effect is what artemus ward would call _trooly grand_. in order to procure the lights, go to some druggist and give him the following prescriptions. he will procure the necessary materials and mix them for you. red fire. forty parts of dry nitrate of strontian, thirteen parts of finely powdered sulphur, five parts of chlorate of potash, and four parts of sulphuret of antimony. the chlorate of potash and sulphuret of antimony should be powdered separately in a mortar, and then mixed together on paper; after which they may be added to the other ingredients, previously powdered and mixed. green fire. green fire, when burned in a reflector, sheds a beautiful light on all surrounding objects. take of flour of sulphur thirteen parts, of nitrate of baryta seventy-seven, of oxymuriate of potassa five, of metallic arsenic two, of charcoal three. the nitrate of baryta should be well dried and powdered; it should then be mixed with the other ingredients, all finely pulverized, and the whole triturated until perfectly blended together. a little calamine may be occasionally added, in order to make the compound slower of combustion; and it is above all things requisite that the rubbing together of the materials should be continued until they are completely mixed. it may so happen that in some of your parlor theatricals you may wish to introduce a storm, so we will tell you how to manage it. there are several elements in a storm which can be counterfeited. thunder. snow. the sound of rain or hail. lightning. wind. the noise of thunder is produced by shaking a sheet of iron behind the scenes. the sheet should be about three feet square, and can be procured at any stove store. snow can be represented by throwing handfuls of small scraps of paper from above. it is best to mount on a chair or step-ladder behind the scenes, and strew them down in the proper direction. the scraps of paper should be of course white and _torn_, not cut, of the requisite size. the sound of rain or hail is produced thus: get the carpenter to make for you a box, from eight to twelve feet in length, and of about four inches inside diameter; put in a couple of handfuls of dried peas, and then fasten up the box; when you wish to make rain, tilt up one end of the box and let the peas run down to the other end, then reverse the box and let them run back again. as long as you continue to do this you will have an excellent imitation of rain, at least as far as the sound is concerned. lightning is imitated by having a lamp in a box; whenever you want to produce a flash, open the lid suddenly and close it again. of course all the other lights in the room must have been previously lowered. wind. sufficient wind to blow about the flakes of snow can be produced with a very large fan, a wooden frame with calico stretched over it being as good as anything. but to simulate the effects of a gale, some other means must be adopted. [illustration] we will assume that the curtain rises on a storm scene; thunder and hail are heard, and fitful flashes of lightning illumine the landscape. enter a wandering female, a little girl, we will presume, in search of shelter; as she walks on to the stage leaning forward as though struggling against the blast, her shawl and dress are violently agitated by the wind. to produce this effect attach two or three strong threads to the garments named, and at the proper time jerk and pull them with a tremulous motion, to impart the natural action. the preceding diagram will illustrate our meaning. these instructions may be found useful to amateur players, and will certainly heighten the effect of the performance when they can be introduced. there is another point in connection with _make-up_ to which we may as well call the reader's attention before closing this chapter. all persons, no matter how ruddy their complexions may be, look pale or sallow under the influence of the bright light necessary to illuminate a stage; to counteract this effect it is absolutely necessary to rouge, or in other words, paint the cheeks pink; a little carmine from your paint-box will serve for this purpose, if you have not the regular rouge powder on hand. chapter xxi. it is marvellous how much amusement, in a quiet way, can be got out of a pair of scissors and a piece of card-board. moreover, if the fingers be plump and white, we know of no position in which they look more tantalizingly bewitching, than when harnessed like a couple of white mice in the iron yoke of a pair of liliputian shears. we have passed many a pleasant evening in contemplating and cutting. on one occasion which we remember well, as it led to sudden and unexpected matrimony of a valued friend, we sat till twelve o'clock at night and used up a whole pack of cards, except the jack of diamonds, in making boomerangs and other mechanical notions. the boomerang we have already introduced to our readers, and some of the other contraptions we shall now proceed to explain. so scare up all the cards you can, and bring out your army of scissors. [illustration] one card puzzle we have often tried, and with which most persons are familiar, is that of the cross. you cut out of card or stiff paper, five pieces similar in shape and size to the following, viz. one piece of fig. , one piece of fig. , and three pieces of fig. . these five pieces you put together so as to make a cross like figure . [illustration] if you cannot solve the problem, look at the following cut, and you will cease to be puzzled. [illustration] now we will try another card puzzle. cut a piece of card or paper in the shape of a horse-shoe, and mark on it the places for the nails as represented in the subjoined sketch. the puzzle is with two cuts to divide it into six parts, each part containing one nail. of course you cannot do it; we could not do it ourselves, and had to get the white mice to show us the way. somehow or another we never can find out anything with half a dozen taper fingers fluttering before our eyes. they bewilder us terribly, getting between the feet of our ideas, so to speak, and tripping us up; as young lambs might serve an awkward shepherd. well, the mystery is solved thus: you cut off the upper circular part, containing two of the nails; then by changing the position of the piece, another cut will divide the horse-shoe into six portions, each containing one nail. [illustration] the next trick is of a slightly different style. cut two pieces of card like those represented in the diagram and place them in the position represented; the problem is, with a small stick or lead-pencil, to raise them from the table, without of course touching them with your fingers. you may try this as often as you like. if you succeed, well and good; if you do not, you can come back here and refer to the solution. [illustration] here is a picture (no. ) representing the way in which it is done; need we add anything in the way of explanation? we think not--so we won't do it. chapter xxii. nix has a sister married to a wealthy leather merchant, whose place of business is in that odoriferous part of new york city called the swamp. she is very beautiful, so we call her the _swamp angel_, and her husband's counting-house, _araby the blest_. her children we have christened _findings_, the youngest being always spoken of as the _last_. we have numerous jokes, of course, about the _cobbler sticking to his last_, the _best quality of calf_, and so on. she is very good-natured, and enjoys our badinage heartily, having a healthy vein of fun of her own, which transmutes all the little events of domestic life into the most refined humor. we like humor in a woman, or we should rather say in a gentlewoman; her culture and the natural tact peculiar to her sex, seem to eliminate any of those grosser particles which the coarse sensibilities of a man would not detect. humor is as fascinating in a woman as sarcasm is abominable; it requires the very highest breeding to make the latter quality moderately safe in the hands of young women. for our own part, we would rather see a woman chew tobacco than hear her say sharp things. however, this is a digression. mrs. crofton, as we said, is very fond of fun, and in her house there is that perfect ease and abandon which can only be enjoyed by well-bred people; whoever visits there is at home; and a favored few, of whom the writer has the honor of being one, are treated quite as _enfants de famille_. if, on calling, we find the heads of the house from home, we know where the claret and cigars are kept. cicero, the negro waiter, obeying standing orders, promptly serves up some repast, and presses the hospitality of the house upon us with all the aplomb and grace for which his race are remarkable. we drop into breakfast whenever we feel so disposed, and invite ourselves to dinner or tea as freely as though our friends kept a hotel; indeed we jocularly call their mansion by various public names: "the crofton house," "fifth avenue hotel," "the shoe and leather house," etc., etc. we have perpetrated more sheer, downright nonsense in their saloons than any forty strait-laced country school-children ever condescended to commit in their rural play-ground. one day during the holidays, when some fourteen or fifteen friends had dropped in _quite promiscuous_, and were playing all kinds of tricks, a certain gentleman, imported from england, an officer in the guards, genus swell, "pwoposed" that we should play the _muffin man_. as none of us had ever heard of this gentleman or the muffin business, there was a general cry for light. "oh, its vewy jolly, i asshua yaw. we all sit wound in a wing, yaw know, and one of us, yaw know, sings: "'do yaw know the muffin man, do yaw know his name, do yaw know the muffin man, that lives in cwumpet lane.' then the next person answers: "'oh, yes, i know the muffin man, oh, yes, i know the muffin man, oh, yes, i know the muffin man, who lives in cwumpet[ ] lane.' then he turns to the next person, and when each person has sung his verse, yaw know, he then joins in the cawus,[ ] until it has gone all wound;[ ] then, yaw know, we all sing together: "'we all know the muffin man, we all know his name; we all know the muffin man, who lives in cwumpet lane.' the game is, yaw know, to keep a gwave[ ] face all the time. if yaw laugh yaw pay a forfeit." "the muffin man, the muffin man," echoed half a dozen voices; "let us play the muffin man." [ ] this word means crumpet. [ ] this word means chorus. [ ] round. [ ] grave. the proposition being carried _nem. con._, we all sat "wound in a wing," or round in a ring, a circle of individuals of every age from three up to seventy. the englishman, as head instigator, started the game, but before he got half through his verse we were all in convulsions of laughter; the next person took it up, but it was utterly useless to think of collecting the forfeits; we were all, in spite of every effort, like a party of maniacs reeling in our seats with merriment. there was something so utterly idiotic and absurd in a large party of respectable, rational beings, congratulating themselves in song that they "knew the muffin man of crumpet lane." the english swell was immediately made an honorary member of our order, which is, as yet, without a name. as we had all laughed our throats dry, mr. crofton invited us into the next room to _see a man_, as the immortal artemus delicately expresses it, so we all went in and saw the man. some of us saw him in ice claret, some in hot punch, and some in cool champagne. one of crofton's children, a maiden aged three years, whom they called toney, as the diminutive of her christian name, antonia, came toddling in with the rest and said: "me, nooni, want see man." whereupon her father gave her a goblet of lemonade. she just tasted it, and handed it back with supreme contempt, saying: "me, nooni, want banny wasser;" which being translated into english means: "me, toney, wants brandy and water." the little voluptuary was satisfied with a glass of weak claret punch. during this conversation, bub, a patriarch of five years, who had been looking on with a very patronizing air, now came forward, and laying his hand on his sister's shoulder, lisped out: "oh, you tunnen witty sing, zats nice banny water." then turning to us in a confidential way, he continued: "she's a witty durl (little girl); she finks (thinks) zats banny water; banny water make witty durls fick (sick); me, big boy, banny water not make me fick." we gave him a nondescript drink, flavored with every liquor on the table, which made him feel immensely proud. "let us play at earth, air, fire, and water," said mrs. crofton. "very well, toney," answered her husband. "you can play at earth, and i will play with the fire-water." so saying, he filled himself a glass of punch, and stretched his limbs in an easy-chair. "i think my husband is the laziest fellow living," laughed mrs. crofton. "i do believe if i were being carried off by wild indians, he would make a note of it in his memorandum book, to have his porter attend to the matter next day." nix here interposed: "dear, dear, these family quarrels are very painful. come, toney, and help to amuse the young people. earth, air, fire, and water, whatever that may be, is the order of the day. how do you play it, toney?" "you all sit round the room, and then one of the party throws something at one of the others, at the same time naming one of the elements, earth, or air, or fire, or water; then he begins to count one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and before he says ten, the person struck must name some animal living in the element chosen." "well, but what do you throw at the person?" inquired nix; "a bureau, or decanter, for instance?" "no, no; something small and soft, like a pair of gloves, or--or--oh, i know, wait a minute and i will run up-stairs and get the baby's worsted ball; that will be just the thing." while mrs. crofton was absent, and she was detained rather longer than her mission seemed to warrant, nix, in poking about in his sister's work-basket in pursuit of mischief, discovered a piece of white beeswax. "eureka!" he exclaimed, "i have it; we will play toney a trick before she comes back; we will make her think some one has broken her new mirror." saying this, he advanced to a large pier-glass between the windows, and marked on it a huge star with the white wax something like the accompanying diagram, and then instructed one or two of us to make lamentations over it when his sister should return. we had not to wait long: in a few minutes mrs. c. entered the room, whereupon we conspirators set to work gesticulating, and talking over the supposed catastrophe. "dear! dear!" said one, "how unfortunate!" "how did it happen?" queried a second. [illustration] "i really don't know," answered a third. "i merely heard a crash, and----" here the lady came on the scene, looking quite flushed. "i knew you children would be in some mischief," she said, "while i was away. i suppose this is some of my clumsy brother's work. he never comes into the house without destroying something." "i'm very sorry," whined nix, contritely; "it was quite an accident, i assure you; but i wonder whether it could not be mended?" "mended! you goose," exclaimed his sister. "who ever heard of mending a broken mirror! it will take a pretty big cheque on your banker to mend that, sir." "i am not so sure of that," replied nix. "if it is not very bad i might----any way i will try." suiting the action to the words, he advanced towards the mirror in such a position that his sister could not see what he did, and very deliberately wiped out the wax marks with his pocket-handkerchief. the astonishment of mrs. c. at this miracle knew no bounds, nor could the gift of any amount of new pier-glasses have given her more pleasure. "now, then, all take your seats; we are going to play earth, air, fire, and water." the circle is formed; our hostess holds the woollen ball poised in her hand for an instant, and then sends it flying into the bosom of a grey-haired old gentleman, at the same time uttering the word "air," and commencing to count rapidly, "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." the old gentleman seemed utterly paralysed until she had finished counting, when he stammered out, "wh--h--h--h--h--pig!" amidst the roars of laughter of every one present. of course he had to pay a forfeit, and took his turn at throwing the ball. no one who has not seen this game played can conceive how ludicrous it is, or how much good wholesome laughter may be got out of it. when a sufficient number of forfeits had accumulated, they were cried in the usual manner. a good deal of ingenuity was displayed in awarding the tasks as well as in executing them. one was that the owner of this "pretty thing" should make an impromptu containing the names of every one in the room, and was managed in the following style: "three howards--corsey, toney, archibald, and nix, bub, brown, campbell, jim and jane have got me in a fix." another task imposed was, that the owner of a cigar-case should give us a riddle no one could solve. going into the next room, this person procured a glass of wine, and holding it up said: "gentlemen, i give you 'the ladies.'" no one attempted to solve this riddle. another gentleman was ordered to point out the greatest goose in the room. this delicate task he set about performing in the following manner: he went to one young lady and asked her to hold up her face to the light, which she did, whereupon he imprinted a chaste salute on her lips; he then went to the next, but she persisted in holding down her head. he then turned round to his tasker and said: "really it is impossible for me to determine which are the geese if they will not allow me to examine their bills." he was let off. when all the forfeits were restored, even to little toney's pocket-handkerchief, which she recovered by throwing herself into her papa's arms and hugging him round the neck, as the _prettiest_, and _wittiest_, and _one she loved best_, we all adjourned to broiled oysters and chicken salad. chapter xxiii. a few days ago when the blistering sun had converted the whole of new york city into one vast bake-oven, nix called at our office, and proposed a flying trip to a certain watering-place. we will not mention its name for fear of incurring the suspicion of writing puffs. it was, however, sufficiently unfashionable to be tolerably comfortable. in order to reach our destination we took an early steamboat, leaving new york at six o'clock in the morning. with what intense satisfaction we became conscious of possessing lungs as we inhaled the cool air which had been washing itself all night in the great waves of the atlantic ocean, or sleeping among the pine-woods of delaware and new jersey. there is nothing surely which makes one feel more grateful for the gift of life than to breathe the early morning air, laden with the perfume of salt-water. on this occasion the bracing atmosphere gave a relish to everything. the crisp broiled ham, the clam-fritters, and even the miserable coffee we had for breakfast on board, all tasted like food worthy of the gods. and as for our cigars (genuine havanas) which followed the meal, their incense fairly sent us up to the seventh heaven of delight. but our business is to write on the _art of amusing_, and although an early steamboat trip may be one of the most enjoyable of things, it scarcely comes within the sphere of our work. when we arrived at the hotel, we found the lady guests were in process of organizing a fair for the benefit of the sufferers by the great portland fire. nix rushed into the enterprise with his usual enthusiasm; and by that evening, when the fair commenced, had fully qualified himself to start in business as a three-sticks-a-penny-man. this plebeian pastime he had picked up at some english race or fair he had once visited, and now attempted with considerable success to acclimatize in america. his first step was to go to the village store and purchase a number of penknives, jack-knives, pincushions, tobacco-boxes, and similar contraptions. his second care was to cut half-a-dozen hickory-sticks or wands, of about four feet six inches in length, and of the thickness of your middle finger--that is, if you are blest with as spacious a paw as ourself; if not, we feel at a loss how to convey to your mind an approximate idea of the measurement. but suppose you take any healthy irish day-laborer, and make his third finger the standard, not the part where the knobs are, but the spaces between them. well, nix cut six sticks of about the thickness of a healthy irish day-laborer's third finger, in the spaces between the joints or knobs. he then cut a dozen other sticks of about the thickness of anybody's wrist, and about two feet long. good! when he wished to commence operations on the fair-ground he selected a piece of level turf, and on one side of it dug six holes about the size of the late daniel webster's hat; these holes he half filled with sand, and in the centre of every hole he then stuck one of the sticks of _about_ the thickness of a healthy irish, etc., etc. then on the top of each stick he balanced a jack-knife, pin-cushion, or some other object of more or less value. now all his preparations were completed. he was prepared to receive customers. standing in a commanding attitude, at a distance of about thirty feet from the arrangement we have described, he cried out in truly english style: "now, ladies and gents, ere yer are--three sticks a penny. any lady or gent wishin to make a immediate fortin, and marry the being of his art on the result, have only to invest a few dollars in my establishment, and he will retire wealthy in arf a nour. here, ladies and gents, look at these ere sticks" (holding up one of the clubs about the thickness of anybody's wrist), "hall you ave to do is to throw one of these ere at them there" (pointing to the pincushions, etc.); "hany article you knock orf is yourn, provided it don't fall inter the ole. now, all i charge you for the priviledge orf throwin' three of these sticks, is the radicerlously small sum of ten cents. you are sure to win five dollars each time. now, walk up; walk up, and take yer chance, and make yer everlastin fortin; marry the hobject of yer haffections, and build yer pallatial willa on the udson." here a courageous youth stepped up, examined the whole arrangement minutely, and concluded to invest ten cents. fortunately for nix and the cause this youth knocked off a dollar jack-knife at the first throw. the consequence was an immense rush of patronage; indeed, the sport became so exciting that two similar establishments could have been kept in active operation. as it was, nix cleared fifty-four dollars over and above all expenses for the good of the fair, and the benefit of the poor folks of portland. one of nix's most profitable customers was a good-natured flashy young man of the wholesale dry-goods pattern, who appeared each day in some new shade of mustard-colored clothing, from the delicate yellow of freshly mixed pure durham to the rich tones of stale german. he told us in confidence that he had intended to go to saratoga, but the _old gentleman_ and _old lady_ (his father and mother) had insisted on his coming down with them to "this d----d hole;" then, suddenly recollecting that we had all probably come from chance, he added: "oh, this is a very nice place; first-rate; i don't say anything about that, only i had a party of friends going up to saratoga, and they'll expect me; they know there's always fun going on where i am. it don't make any difference to me whether i spend fifty dollars or five hundred. i'm bound to have a good time. i appreciate anything; tha's--anything, you know--tha's got any wit into it, you know. well, you know, there are some people who ain't got any idea; don't seem to appreciate, you know. now, when i saw you throwin' sticks, well, i piled right in; i didn't care about it, of course, only i saw what you were doing it for, and i didn't care. some people would think it awful vulgar, you know, but i don't care; that's the sort of man i am. perhaps i shouldn't have liked some of my aristocratic lady friends to have seen me; but then down here, you know. oh, i'd just as lief have given the money to the fair; i'd spent thirty dollars before in slippers and things, and then gave 'em back. i didn't want 'em, you know, only i like to see things lively; there's bound to be fun when i'm round." however, we will not follow our good-natured friend through his long monologue of refined egotism; we merely introduced him because he showed us a variety of tricks, two of which we think worth recording in our book on amusements. on the morning after the fair, nix and ourself, in company with the mustard-colored aristocrat, took a bath in the ocean. the aristocrat appeared in the water attired in a sumptuous bathing dress, smoking a cigar which he told us cost $ per thousand; which, he frankly confessed, he thought too high a price for a man to pay for cigars in these times. he further stated that he relished smoking in the water very much. to our inquiry whether there was no danger of the waves putting it out, he replied by informing us that he could dive under water with a lighted cigar in his mouth without extinguishing it. "d'you see that boat there?" he said, pointing to a small scow about a hundred and fifty yards distant. "well, i will dive under that; you watch me, and you will see me come up." we thought there must be some hoax in the matter, and so kept a strict eye upon his movements. he swam out to the craft, gave a plunge and a kick, after the manner of ducks in a pond, disappeared, and came up on the other side, calmly puffing his weed. never having seen or heard of the feat before, nix and ourself were what the ancient greeks used to call _flabbergasterd_. when he had enjoyed his triumph and our bewilderment for a few minutes, he showed us how it was done; simply by putting the lighted end of the cigar in his mouth just before going under water, that was all. he added: "i will show you something better if you will come up to the shooting-gallery after we get through bathing. did you ever see a man ring the bell with his back to the target?" arrived at the shooting-gallery, our young friend procured a mirror which he hung on the wall opposite the target, then placing himself in front of the former, with his back to the latter, he held the pistol over his shoulder and took aim, looking at the image of the pistol in the glass as if it were the pistol itself; that is, in such a manner that the reflection of the object was covered by the reflection of the pistol; he then fired, and came within an inch of the bull's-eye. when we got back to the hotel he amused us by setting fire to a glass of alcohol with a burning glass. he placed a silver dollar (a red cent would have answered as well) in the spirit, and then directed the rays of the sun through the burning-glass on the metal; in an instant the liquid was all ablaze. in the afternoon this same youth called us all to enjoy a trick he had played upon the _old gentleman_. the _old gentleman_, it appeared, was engaged in reading macaulay's history of england, and like a methodical old gentleman, whenever he laid down the book, marked the place where he left off. on the day in question his son had abstracted his book from its accustomed place, and painted on the page following the one he was, reading a very excellent imitation of a fly. at his usual hour the old gentleman was seen to put on his spectacles, and take up the book; all those in the secret were of course on hand; presently he came to the passage on which appeared the counterfeit fly; the old gentleman shook the book, but the fly stirred not; then he blew at it; then he laid down the volume, and deliberately taking out his handkerchief, made a pass at the offending insect with that weapon, replaced his handkerchief, settled his glasses, took up the book again, but to his utter surprise the fly still remained. a light seemed now to dawn on him--the fly had got crushed between the leaves--so he essayed to remove it with his finger-nail; here his hopeful offspring could stand it no longer, and burst into a roar of laughter, in which several others joined. when the joke was explained to the worthy victim, he said: "now, that's very good, isn't it; very good. i made sure it was a real fly, as true as you live. look here, wife; look at this, some of master tom's doing; good, ain't it; as true as you live, that's a fact. ah! ha!"[ ] [ ] we have since seen a somewhat similar trick played by painting a fly on the face of a watch or inside the glass. later in the evening young hopeful horrified a circle of ladies by discovering at their feet a huge spider; in the midst of their shrieks and exclamations a courageous gentleman with large whiskers stepped forward to crush the intruder, raised his foot, and brought it down firmly, but staggered back astounded--the creature had exploded with a loud report, conveying an idea of vindictiveness and power truly appalling. the young gentleman took us aside and explained the mystery, at the same time producing from his pocket a small box containing some half-dozen similar spiders. "i have them made on purpose for me," he said. "a german porter in our store first put me up to it, and i told him to set to work and make me as many as he liked, and charge me any price he chose. i tell ye, that dutchman thinks i'm a great boy. i pay him about five dollars a week for spiders; well, you know, that's a good deal for a man like him; only gets twelve dollars a week in the store." we examined the specimen carefully, and found it was constructed very much on the plan of the torpedoes used by children on the fourth of july; only the paper was brown and a little thicker, and there were legs of fine wire attached, which gave it a very lifelike and spidery appearance. the dutchman had evidently gone into the matter _con amore_, for he had taken the pains to wash some of his specimens with gum, and then sprinkle them with wool-dust to produce the appearance of what are called hairy spiders. about one-third of a grain of fulminating silver produces the explosion in each. they are very easily made. as we steamed back to the great city of new york next day, nix said he thought we had made a very good investment of three red-hot days of mid-summer time. we thought so, too. chapter xxiv. we are not a great advocate for arithmetical puzzles as a pastime for festive occasions, that is to say not as a general rule; but there are certain tricks of figures which are quite amusing, and some few problems which from their very simplicity become almost ludicrous. we have seen many a tolerably wise head puzzled over the question: "if a barrel of flour cost thirty-nine dollars thirteen and three quarter cents, what will a penny loaf come to?" and consume considerable time and paper without discovering the obvious fact, that a penny loaf will of course come to a penny and nothing else. we remember, too, an amiable divine, who tortured his dear old head for three-quarters of an hour to solve the question: "if a shovel, poker, and tongs, cost thirteen dollars forty-three and a quarter cents, what will a ton of coals come to?" and when informed that they would come to ashes, he seemed to feel quite hurt; and indeed, to labor for some time under a sense of having been trifled with. when told that it was merely a joke, a little fun, he replied that he was a great admirer of don quixote, could appreciate gil bias, and relished exceedingly the wit of swift and sterne; but failed to perceive the particular humor of our joke about the ton of coals. with all due respect for the estimable prelate, we must venture to differ from him, fortified as we are in our opinion by a young lady, who, if not a divine herself, has a pair of eyes that are, in whose company we have solved some of the most intricate arithmetical jocularities and trivialities, till we were up to the eyes in ink and love. one we well remember, partly because it gave us so much trouble, and partly because there was a wild picturesqueness about the subject which appeals to our imagination. it ran thus: a man has a wolf, a goat, and a cabbage, to carry over a river, but he can only convey them one at a time, his boat being very small. how is he to manage this, so that the wolf may not be left alone with the goat, nor the goat with the cabbage? it is obvious if the wolf be left with the goat, he will eat it up; whilst if the goat be left with the cabbage, short work will be made of that classic vegetable. oh, how often we crossed and recrossed that river; how often we took the goat out, and put the wolf in; and how frequently we took out the wolf, and put in the goat. how we trembled for the poor man, fearing there could be no alternative for him but to sacrifice either the goat or the cabbage, or else kill the wolf. how varied and wild were our expedients, such as throwing the wolf across, sending the cabbage round by express, digging a tunnel under the bed of the river, forcing the proprietor to eat the cabbage himself, towing the goat behind the boat, and other devices too numerous to mention, all of which we were assured, by those holding the key to the mystery, were altogether inadmissible; and then when, with humbled pride, we reluctantly _gave it up_, how mad we were at the simplicity of the solution, which was this: he first takes over the goat, and then returns for the wolf; he then takes back the goat, which he leaves, and takes over the cabbage, he then returns and takes over the goat all as simple as a, b, c, when _you know how to do it_; that knowing how to do it is the great difficulty in ninety-nine out of every hundred things in this world. puzzles which involve long and laborious calculation are not in our line; they are too suggestive of the school and the country room. something like the following is good for skirmishing: problem. put down four nines, so that they will make one hundred. after a short struggle you surrender at discretion, and in an instant get the solution. - / there is no delay, no tedious figuring up; you get your answer and are ready for something fresh. some such abstruse calculation as the following, for instance: problem. if a herring and a half cost three cents, how many will you get for a dollar? to ladies, who as a general rule have not the organ of calculation very largely developed, this will usually prove a poser. as the problem is to be solved by patience and study, we will leave them to do it, _or give it up_, and proceed to the next problem. a gentleman sent his servant with a present of nine ducks in a box, upon which was the following direction:-- "to alderman gobble with ix. ducks." the servant, who had more ingenuity than honesty, purloined three of the ducks, and contrived it so that the number contained in the box corresponded with that upon the direction. as he neither erased any word or letter, nor substituted a new direction, how did he so alter it as to correspond with the contents of the box? the dishonest but ingenious servant simply placed the letter s before the two roman numerals, ix. the direction then read thus: "to alderman gobble, with six ducks." it will be seen that this problem is very easy of solution to every one, save artemus ward, who would spell it _sicks dux in a bocks_. here is one, however, which would suit the taste, if not the ability, of the great showman to a nicety: problem. to distribute among three persons twenty-one casks of wine, seven of them full, seven of them empty, and seven of them half full; so that each of them shall have the same quantity of wine, and the same number of casks. this problem admits of two solutions, which may be clearly comprehended by means of the two following tables: first solution. _persons._ _full casks._ _empty._ _half full._ second solution. _persons._ _full casks._ _empty._ _half full._ one more problem, and we shall have had enough mathematics for one chapter. [illustration] a figure similar to the preceding can be formed without removing the pencil from the paper, without crossing any line or retracing any part. now set to work and do it. if you do not succeed, you may refer to the annexed diagram and solution. [illustration] draw a line from to , to , to , to , to , to , to , to , to , to , to , and to . chapter xxv. we have observed that tableaux and charades run in some families, and that these families are always ready to spend any amount of time and money to carry out their favorite ideas; we cannot help feeling considerable admiration for any one having some honest enthusiasm for any amusement in this toiling age of ours. but our mission is not to deal much with the costly or complicated. those who wish to produce tableaux from waverley or the bride of abydos, who desire to attire themselves as mary queen of scots, di vernon, or dolly varden, we leave to their own devices, giving only our best wishes. there are, however, charades to be got up on the spur of the moment, which are not less entertaining than the more elaborate performances to which we allude. we will mention one or two which have come under our observation during a chequered existence; they may serve to give the key-note, if nothing more. on the occasion of a certain impromptu party, the lady of the house begged some of her guests to get up _something_ which would entertain the rest, some charades, or what not. two gentlemen consulted for a moment, and then took up their positions in the back of the parlor, which represented the stage. one sat down to read, whilst the other crept up slyly behind him, and much to his dismay turned off the gas. they then both rose and declared the charade completed, leaving it to the audience to divine the answer. whether any one guessed it or not we do not know--but the answer was gastric--gas-trick. another gentleman then stepped into the stage, with a large hat at the back of his head, and began calling--"mooley, mooley, mooley; com, com, mooley. where kin that keow a poked herself now? she's allers a concealing of herself somewheres or another--mooley," etc., his riddle was now concluded, and he desired the audience to give him the answer. the answer was _cow-hiding_. a famous physician and wit was the next to come forward, accompanied by a friend. they took positions in opposite corners of the room, advanced towards each other, and as they passed, the friend said to the doctor, "how do, doctor?" to the surprise of all, they declared the charade completed. no one could guess it, of course; the answer was _metaphysician_, met-a-physician. again they took their positions precisely as before, announcing that they were about to give another charade. again they walked across the room, and as they passed, one said to the other, "how do, again?" this was the conclusion of the second charade; quite as puzzling as the first, only more so. the answer was _metaphor_--met-afore. this absurdity was received with roars of laughter and thunders of applause. charades of this kind, we are inclined to think, give more real pleasure after all, than the studied, costly elaborations. they are perhaps not so pretty; but, ye gods! where there are pretty women, what else could mortal man desire in the way of beauty! chapter xxvi. a certain young lady with whom we are acquainted has discovered a new art, which seems to absorb a great portion of her being. it is a method by which almost anything may be transmuted into coral. the consequence of this discovery is that the english-basement house in which the maid in question dwells, is converted into a perfect mermaid's grotto. we told her so the other day, since which she has called us her triton; and further intimated that in order to preserve the fitness of things, we might invite her to an oyster supper at delmonico's. this hint we took with the avidity of a pickerel; but alas for the fickleness of woman, and our visions of marine happiness, the damsel changed her position and absolutely declined accepting our hospitality, even to the extent of a shrimp. it is marvellous what very poor jokes afford rich amusement, when they are passed amongst intimate friends. when we called the lady in question, south coral-ina, every one present seemed quite amused; indeed only one person, an obnoxious individual with large whiskers, seemed to resent it at all:--but now that the title by frequent repetition has assumed the character of a nickname, it is always received as an exquisite piece of humor. numerous ramifications of this subject afford us endless themes for badinage. we profess to ridicule the idea that involuntary servitude is abolished, when south coral-ina holds ourselves and so many others in slavery. she retorts by calling us neptune, and asking after the telegraph cable. when this badinage had been going on for some time, our friend nix played quite a pretty hoax on the ladies. he arrived one evening with a somewhat dirty-looking basket on his arm filled with oysters. this was rather an inelegant thing to bring into the parlor, and naturally excited some surprise; but when he began to take out the grimy-looking bivalves, and one by one, hand them round to the ladies, there was a commotion bordering on indignation; the first lady declined to receive so plebeian a gift, whereupon nix took a penknife from his pocket and opened it; revealing the inside lined with rich velvet, and bearing some trinket made of gold and pearls. this was in payment of a bet of an oyster supper which he had playfully made with and purposely lost to one of the ladies. but to revert to our coral. we often aided the fair mermaid in her manufactures, making sprays of coral nearly as large as in currant bushes, coral walking-canes, coral ear-rings, pen racks, paper weights, and other useful articles. we converted into coral--walnuts, small mud-turtles, birds' claws, sea-shells, and indeed almost everything on which we could lay our hands. finally we took paterfamilias' felt hat one night and gave it a couple of coats of scarlet varnish, much to the astonishment of that good gentleman when he wished to put it on next morning. the mode of making these coral ornaments is, of course, very simple; otherwise it would not find a place in this book: receipt. to two drachms of fine vermilion, add one ounce of clear resin, and melt them together; paint the object with this mixture while hot, and then hold it over a gentle fire till it is perfectly covered and smooth. to make sprays of coral you should procure some twigs of thorn; peel and dry, before painting with the varnish. the nix gift of pearls has set all the ladies to work on a new idea--painting pictures in oil-colors on the inside of oyster shells; these are mostly marine subjects where the natural hues of the shell supply the requisite tints for the clouds and water. one of these little works represented a fish, where the sheen of the mother-of-pearl gave a marvellously natural effect to the scales and gills. they have also taken to making pictures on egg-shells in water-colors, which are very pretty. one egg they tattooed all over with pen-and-ink arabesque, and emblazoned with crimson and gold. it looks very handsome, though possibly of not quite so much practical use as a locomotive or a reaping-machine. still, let us always remember that quotation from goethe: "_encourage the beautiful, the useful will take care of itself!_" to which we might add a paraphrase of our own: "encourage the amusing, the dreary will take care of itself." for our own part we have serious ideas of organizing a society for the encouragement of amusement. we firmly believe that judicious and rational amusement tends more to make men _healthy_, _wealthy_, _and wise_, than ever did early rising, for which, nevertheless, we have profoundest respect. chapter xxvii. to those who are fond of charades, and indeed to all those good people who love to be merry, we commend what the french call _charades en action_, or pantomime charades. these charades, as the name indicates, are acted, not spoken. the great rule to be observed is silence, nothing more than an exclamation being allowed. in extreme cases, where it is utterly impossible to convey the idea by actions, a placard may be introduced bearing some helpful inscription, as in the case of mr. cuffy (in the charade on carpet which we shall presently give), who draws from his bosom a monster letter from mr. swab, which he displays to the audience. in addition to the information it conveys, the production of this preposterously large note is calculated to create a laugh. the chief merit in a charade actor is inventive ingenuity in so, adapting the domestic adjuncts of an ordinary household as to supply the place of necessary theatrical properties and wardrobe. we have seen a very respectable richard coeur de lion made up of the tinware of an ordinary cooking-range; and queen elizabeth, frill, hair and all, out of a few copies of the _daily tribune_. we have known a steam fire-engine to be manufactured out of a baby's crib and a tea-kettle; and bunker hill monument from two chairs, a fishing-rod, and a sheet. those who have followed us so far through these pages, have gone through a good course of study, and will start with great advantages in the pursuit of charade-acting. for the convenience of our clients we add a list of words which may be acted as charades. list of charade words. accent axe--cent. accident axe--sigh--dent. altar awl--tar. artful art--full. apex ape--x. bagpipe bag--pipe. bandage band--age. bedlam bed--lamb. bustard bust--tarred. behead bee--head. blacksmith black--smith. bulrush bull--rush. buttress butt--tress. catsup cat--sup. carboy car--boy. corselet course--let. cribbage crib--age. crossbow cross--beau. cutlass cut--lass. cartel car--tell (william). cartoon cart--tune! cashier cash--ear. dolphin doll--fin. donkey don--key. ductile duck--tile. definite deaf--inn--night footpad foot--pad. flatten flat--ten. gastric gas--trick. gallic gall--lick. hamlet ham--let. handcuff hand--cuff. hartshorn hearts--horn. hemlock hem--lock. henpeck hen--peck. humbug hum--bug. humdrum hum--drum. idol eye--doll. ill-bred ill--bread. instep inn--step. implore imp--lore. invest inn--vest. incite inn--sight. jackal jack--awl. jury jew--rye. sappet sap--pet. linch-pin linch--pin. loadstone load--stone. mastiff ma--stiff. messmate mess--mate. mistake miss--take. muffin muff--fin. nightmare night--mare. nightshade night--shade. outfit out--fit. pardon pa--don. payday pay--dey. phantom fan--tom. picnic pick--nick. pilot pie--lot. pollute poll--lute. puppet pup--pet. prior pry--oar. ringlet wring--let. sauce-box sauce--box. seesaw sea--sore. shamrock sham--rock. spinster spin--stir. surtout sir--tout, or sir--two. toilet toy--let. waistcoat waste--coat. welcome well--come. wilful will--full. yellow yell--low. carpet. a charade in three acts. act i. car ----. _dramatis personæ_, car-driver. conductor. passengers. scene--_sixth avenue, new york._ scene opens and discovers street-car driving furiously along, drawn by two chestnut acquaintances. conductor and driver represented by two small boys. car composed of lounge, clothes-horse, and two chairs, judiciously arranged and draped; wheels of band box-lids or circular tea-trays. noise of car simulated by confederates outside shaking sleigh-bells or hand-bells, and drumming on door with fingers and hand; also rattling on floor with feet. enter some passengers, running and hailing car. bell rings, by knocking goblet with spoon. car stops. [illustration] [illustration] passengers rush towards car. gentleman is in the act of stepping on car when bell rings, and car suddenly starts off, throwing gentleman violently to the ground. great screaming and wailing; friends gather round and try to raise him; find he is insensible; all immediately begin shaking their fists at conductor; then simultaneously they bethink themselves of the propriety of taking the number of the car. all draw out their memorandum-books and commence writing. conductor and driver make gestures of defiance. [illustration] grand tableau. act ii. ---- pet. _dramatis personæ_, husband and wife. enter lady poutingly, followed by her husband, who tries to coax her into a good humor, but without avail. she persists in being in a _pet_. husband [illustration] by his gestures promises to buy her shawls, [illustration] dresses, [illustration] a piano, and even [illustration] a riding-horse.[ ] [illustration] finding all these promises are of no use, he begins to get excited; declares she shall have nothing; lady remains sulky; gentleman seizes his hat, rams it on his head, and exits. lady walks off in the opposite direction, clenching her fists. [illustration] [ ] to convey this idea, the gentleman must neigh while he prances. act iii. carpet. _dramatis personæ_, irishman. colored man. servant girl. scene--_street-door of fashionable house--door-plate of white paper on door bearing the name of swab._ enter colored man,[ ] with his face well spotted with whitewash, who rings at door of fashionable house. [ ] the usual way of making a colored man is by blacking the face with burnt cork; but as gentlemen at evening parties sometimes object to undergoing this ordeal, a good nigger may be manufactured by stretching a piece of dark silk across the face and cutting out holes for the eyes and mouth. hair can be made of cotton wadding. [illustration] irish servant appears with her sleeves rolled up and her dress pinned in the form of a dress-coat behind. she turns up her nose at darkey, who humbly intimates that he has called for the _carpet_. girl slams the door in his face. colored man considers this outrageous conduct, as he has been specially requested to call for orders, and produces the following note from mr. swab: "mr. cuffy: "please call at no. fifth avenue, for carpet. "john swab." [illustration] he points to note and name on door to show he has come to the right house. [illustration] enter irishman, who approaches mr. swab's door and rings bell; reappear girl, who smiles as she produces a roll of carpet. cuffy steps forward and expostulates, showing mr. swab's letter. irishman pitches into cuffy, and a furious fight ensues, in which the girl joins with a broom. [illustration] the end of carpet. catastrophe. a charade in four acts. act i. cat. _dramatis personæ_, cat. dog. old gentleman. scene--_backyard of city house, with small table placed on top of other table, to represent window._ enter cat (head done up in brown paper, with cat's face painted on it, brown paper ears, tail made out of lady's boa, black silk handkerchief, or any suitable thing). [illustration] cat commences to _meow_ and caterwaul. old gentleman appears at window with nightcap on and sheet wrapped round him, and shakes his fist at cat. cat continues to make a noise. [illustration] old gentleman gets very angry, shakes both his fists, withdraws into room, reappears with hair-brush, which he throws at cat. cat continues to make a noise. old gentleman commences a fusilade of boots, books, combs, and toilet articles generally. cat makes more noise than ever, putting up her back and spitting at the objects as they fell around her. the old gentleman is almost in despair, when suddenly a bright idea strikes him, which he expresses by pantomime, placing his finger to the side of his nose and winking. he disappears from the window. presently is heard the rattling of a chain and barking of a dog. [illustration] enter dog, barking furiously, and pursues cat out of yard. old gentleman rubs his hands with glee, and pats dog on head. dog frisks about. act ii ass. _dramatis personæ_, ass. rag and soap-fat man. servant girl. scene--_public street._ enter rag and soap-fat man dragging donkey after him. donkey dragging cart made of chair with bandbox-lid wheels, cart filled with odds and ends of tinware, old rags, etc. donkey very obstinate; driver beats him with roll of stiff paper. servant hails soap-fat man and offers for sale several large jarsful of drippings, sheets, pillow-cases, etc., belonging to her mistress. they chaffer for some time over the bargain, but finally agree upon a price. the money (all copper pennies) is about to change hands when the donkey, close by, gives an unearthly bray, which, to their guilty consciences, sounds like the voice of some avenging spirit; both scream, drop the money on the floor, and rush off; donkey turns round and runs off too. [illustration] [illustration] act iii. trophy. _dramatis personæ_, soldiers. scene--_a camp, tents made of sheets hung over chairs, etc._ enter soldiers, leading prisoners, and bearing ragged and shot-torn flag on broomstick, band playing trumpets (sheets of music rolled up), and beating drums (tin pails); they halt and form in line; the officer, by suitable gestures, calls attention to the trophy. [illustration] enter general and staff. general makes a speech, pointing to the trophy, and then decorates their captain by pinning a medal (a circular soda-cracker fastened to a bit of red ribbon will do) on his breast. all strike an attitude, and the scene closes. act iv. catastrophe. _dramatis personæ_, gentlemen. ladies. horses and policemen. scene--_central park._ a superb carriage, made out of the lounge with bandbox-lid wheels, and drawn by a span of spirited bay gentleman, is discovered; an elegant youth is seated on the box driving, whilst the carriage is filled with a gay and festive party of youthful ladies and gentlemen. [illustration] presently the horses become restive, plunge wildly about, and, in spite of all the efforts of the driver, dash the vehicle against a post; the inmates scream and tumble out. enter two policemen, who seize the horses, put the driver on his legs, and carry the rest of the party to the hospital on stretchers made of the clothes-horse. [illustration] [illustration] chapter xxviii. those tranquil moods to which allusion has already been made on several occasions, have now become a decided feature in our character. there is certainly something very charming in the society of well-bred women. however, we hope before long we need not be forced from home to find that enjoyment. we have discovered the object of nix's recent gifts of brahminical works. it was a ponderous roundabout species of humor peculiar to nix, the works in question being supposed to furnish appropriate study for a person in our presumed position as admirer of bud (or boodh). nix has for some time past made himself very wearisome with continual allusions to vishnu, siva, buddhism, and so forth. we gained one idea, however, from his jest. we have written a hindoo play, the plot of which turns on the love of a devout brahmin. the play is entirely finished save the last act, which is complete up to the point where neer je haun declares his love for the unblown rose. the last act of the play. we took our play to the adams' to-night, and told bud that it was nearly completed, but we were in some embarrassment how to conclude it. we had consequently come to consult her on the subject, begging at the same time she would give it her most careful attention, as her decision was of vital importance. we were alone. we had read the whole play through with the utmost care, till we came to the final sentence in our manuscript, where the hero declares his passion for the unblown rose. it runs thus: _neer je haun._ "light of my soul, whose voice is sweeter than the murmur of the ganges, whose name is incense to my nostrils, whose eyes are brighter than the fire-flies by night--my highest ambition is to be thy slave, my greatest hope to guard thee from harm, to bask in the radiance of thine eyes. for thee i would sacrifice all other earthly happiness. when i pray thee to share my humble fortunes, turn not away thy proud head; parch not my soul with scorn, though well i should deserve such a fate for my temerity." now turning to bud, we asked her to decide what answer the lover should receive; should he be accepted or rejected? "oh, accepted, of course!" eagerly exclaimed bud, her bright eyes kindling with sympathy for the ardent hindoo. "it is well!" we replied, and wrote down the maiden's answer. "i will trust my life in thy hands from this day till death." "is that right?" we asked. she said it was, though perhaps a little cold. we then drew from our breast pocket one sheet of the manuscript she had not yet seen. it was the title of the play: the worship of bud. bud colored--looked at us in an embarrassed way, and then with much hesitation was about to speak, when we stretched out our hand and said: "you will not make us alter what we have written?" she gave no answer, but from the pressure of her hand we knew we need doubt no more. now this heathen idolator would not change places with the greatest christian monarch in europe. [illustration] the end. [illustration: a catalogue of books issued by carleton, publisher, new york. .] [illustration] "_there is a kind of physiognomy in the_ titles _of books no less than in the faces of men, by which a skilful observer will know as well what to expect from the one as the other._"--butler. new books and new editions recently issued by carleton, publisher, new york, _broadway, corner of lispenard street_ n.b.--the publisher, upon receipt of the price in advance, will send any of the following books by mail, postage free, to any part of the united states. this convenient and very safe mode may be adopted when the neighboring booksellers are not supplied with the desired work. state name and address in full. victor hugo. les misÉrables.--_the best edition_, two elegant vo. vols., beautifully bound in cloth, $ . ; half calf, $ . les misÉrables.--_the popular edition_, one large octavo volume, paper covers, $ . ; cloth bound, $ . les misÉrables.--in the spanish language. fine vo. edition, two vols., paper covers, $ . ; cloth bound, $ . jargal.--a new novel. illustrated. mo. cloth, $ . the life of victor hugo.--by himself. vo. cloth, $ . miss muloch. john halifax.--a novel. with illustration. mo. cloth, $ . a life for a life.-- do. do. $ . charlotte bronte (currer bell). jane eyre.--a novel. with illustration. mo. cloth, $ . the professor.--do. do. do. $ . shirley.-- do. do. do. $ . villette.-- do. do. do. $ . hand-books of society. the habits of good society; with thoughts, hints, and anecdotes, concerning nice points of taste, good manners, and the art of making oneself agreeable. the most entertaining work of the kind ever published. mo. cloth, $ . the art of conversation.--with directions for self-culture. a sensible and instructive work, that ought to be in the hands of every one who wishes to be either an agreeable talker or listener. mo. cloth, $ . the art of amusing.--a collection of graceful arts, games, tricks, puzzles, and charades, intended to amuse everybody, and enable all to amuse everybody else. with suggestions for private theatricals, tableaux, parlor and family amusements, etc. with nearly illustrative pictures. mo. cloth, $ . mrs. mary j. holmes' works. 'lena rivers.-- a novel. mo. cloth, $ . darkness and daylight.-- do. do. $ . tempest and sunshine.-- do. do. $ . marian grey.-- do. do. $ . meadow brook.-- do. do. $ . english orphans.-- do. do. $ . dora deane.-- do. do. $ . cousin maude.-- do. do. $ . homestead on the hillside.-- do. do. $ . hugh worthington.-- do. do. $ . artemus ward. his book.--the first collection of humorous writings by a. ward. full of comic illustrations. mo. cloth, $ . his travels.--a comic volume of indian and mormon adventures. with laughable illustrations. mo. cloth, $ . miss augusta j. evans. beulah.--a novel of great power mo. cloth, $ . macaria.-- do. do. do. $ . st. elmo.-- do. do. _just published._ do. $ . by the author of "rutledge." rutledge.--a deeply interesting novel. mo. cloth, $ . the sutherlands.-- do. do. $ . frank warrington.-- do. do. $ . st. philip's.-- do. do. $ . louie's last term at st. mary's. do. $ . roundhearts and other stories.--_just published_ do. $ . josh billings. his book.--all the rich comic sayings of this celebrated humorist. with comic illustrations. mo. cloth, $ . mrs. ritchie (anna cora mowatt). fairy fingers.--a capital new novel. mo. cloth, $ . the mute singer.-- do. do. $ . a new book.--_in press._ do. $ . new english novels. beyminstre.--a very interesting novel. mo. cloth, $ . recommended to mercy.-- do. do. $ . taken upon trust.-- do. do. $ . geo. w. carleton. our artist in cuba.--a humorous volume of travels; with fifty comic illustrations by the author. mo. cloth, $ . our artist in peru.--_in press._ $ . a. s. roe's works. a long look ahead.-- a novel mo. cloth, $ . to love and to be loved.-- do. do. $ . time and tide.-- do. do. $ . i've been thinking.-- do. do. $ . the star and the cloud.-- do. do. $ . true to the last.-- do. do. $ . how could he help it?-- do. do. $ . like and unlike.-- do. do. $ . looking around.-- do. do. $ . woman, our angel.--_just published._ do. $ . richard b. kimball. was he successful.-- a novel. mo. cloth, $ . undercurrents.-- do. do. $ . saint leger.-- do. do. $ . romance of student life.-- do. do. $ . in the tropics.-- do. do. $ . the prince of kashna.-- do. do. $ . emilie.--a sequel to "st. leger." _in press._ do. $ . orpheus c. kerr. the orpheus c. kerr papers.--comic letters and humorous military criticisms. three series mo. cloth, $ . edmund kirke. among the pines.--a southern sketch. mo. cloth, $ . my southern friends.-- do. do. $ . down in tennessee.-- do. do. $ . adrift in dixie.-- do. do. $ . among the guerillas.-- do. do. $ . a new book.--_in press._ do. do. $ . t. s. arthur's new works. light on shadowed paths.--a novel. mo. cloth, $ . out in the world.-- do. do. $ . nothing but money.-- do. do. $ . what came afterwards.-- do. do. $ . our neighbors.--_just published._ do. $ . robinson crusoe. a handsome illustrated edition, complete. mo. cloth, $ . joseph rodman drake. the culprit fay.--a faery poem. mo. cloth, $ . an illustrated edition.--with exquisite illustrations on wood. quarto, beautifully printed and bound, $ . epidemic cholera. a handy-book for successful treatment mo. cloth, $ . cuthbert bede. verdant green.--a rollicking, humorous novel of english student life; with comic illustrations. mo. cloth, $ . private miles o'reilly. baked meats of the funeral.--a comic book. mo. cloth, $ . life and adventures--with comic illustrations. do. $ . m. michelet's remarkable works. love (l'amour).--from the french. mo. cloth, $ . woman (la femme).-- do. do. $ . j. sheridan le fanu. wylder's hand.--a powerful new novel. mo. cloth, $ . the house by the churchyard.-- do. do. $ . rev. john cumming, d.d., of london. the great tribulation.--two series. mo. cloth, $ . the great preparation.-- do. do. $ . the great consummation.-- do. do. $ . ernest renan. the life of jesus.--from the french work. mo. cloth, $ . the apostles.-- do. do. $ . religious history and criticism.-- vo. cloth, $ . popular italian novels. doctor antonio.--a love story. by ruffini. mo. cloth, $ . vincenzo.-- do. do. do. $ . beatrice cenci.--by guerrazzi, with portrait. do. $ . charles reade. the cloister and the hearth.--a magnificent new novel--the best this author ever wrote. vo. cloth, $ . the opera. tales from the operas.--a collection of clever stories, based upon the plots of all the famous operas. mo. cloth, $ . robert b. roosevelt. the game-fish of the north.--illustrated mo. cloth, $ . superior fishing.-- do. do. $ . the game-birds of the north.-- do. $ . john phoenix. the squibob papers.--a new humorous volume, filled with comic illustrations by the author. mo. cloth, $ . matthew hale smith. mount calvary.--meditations in sacred places. mo. $ . p. t. barnum. the humbugs of the world.--two series. mo. cloth, $ . dr. j. j. craven. the prison-life of jefferson davis.--incidents and conversations connected with his captivity. mo. cloth, $ . captain raphael semmes. the cruise of the alabama and sumter.-- mo. cloth, $ . pulpit pungencies. a new serio-comic religious book.--very rich. mo. cl., $ . the abbe guettee. the papacy.--its origin and schism with the greeks. introduction by a. cleveland coxe, d. d. mo. cloth, $ . mansefield t. walworth. stormcliff.--a new american novel. mo. cloth, $ . amelia b. edwards. ballads.--by author of "barbara's history." mo. cloth, $ . mrs. jervey (caroline h. glover). helen courtenay's promise.--a new novel. mo. cloth, $ . walter barrett, clerk. the old merchants of new york.--personal incidents, sketches, bits of biography, and events in the life of leading merchants in new york. four series. mo. cloth, $ . madame octavia walton le vert. souvenirs of travel. new edition. large mo. cloth, $ . kate marstone. a new and very interesting tale. mo. cloth, $ . by "sentinel." who goes there?--or men and events. mo. cloth, $ . junius brutus booth. memorials of "the elder booth."--the actor. mo. cloth, $ . h. t. sperry. country love _vs._ city flirtation.--a capital new society tale, with twenty superb illustrations by hoppin. mo. cloth, $ . epes sargent. peculiar.--a remarkable new novel. mo. cloth, $ . cuyler pine. mary brandegee.--a very powerful novel mo. cloth, $ . a new novel.--_in press._ do. $ . elisha kent kane. love-life of dr. kane and margaret fox. mo. cloth, $ . mother goose for grown folks. humorous rhymes for grown people. mo. cloth, $ . miscellaneous works. notes on shakspeare.--by jas. h. hackett. mo. cloth, $ . the montanas.--a novel by mrs. s. j. hancock. do. $ . pastimes with little friends.--martha h. butt. do. $ . a spinster's story.--a new novel. do. $ . a life of james stephens.--fenian head-centre. do. $ . free government in england and america.-- do. $ . autobiography of a new england farm-house.-- do. $ . nepenthe.--a new novel. do. $ . together.-- do. do. $ . lovers and thinkers.--do. do. $ . poems.--by gay h. naramore. do. $ . gomery of montgomery.--by c. a. washburn. do. $ . victoire.--a new novel. do. $ . poems.--by mrs. sarah t. bolton. do. $ . suppressed book about slavery.-- do. $ . john guilderstring's sin.--a novel. do. $ . centeola.--by author "green mountain boys." do. $ . red tape and pigeon-hole generals.-- do. $ . treatise on deafness.--by dr. e. b. lighthill. do. $ . around the pyramids.--by gen. aaron ward. do. $ . china and the chinese.--by w. l. g. smith. do. $ . the yachtman's primer.--by t. r. warren. do. cts. edgar poe and his critics.--by mrs. whitman. do. $ . married off.--illustrated satirical poem. do. cts. the flying dutchman.--j. g. saxe, illustrated. do. cts. alexander von humboldt.--life and travels. do. $ . life of hugh miller.--the celebrated geologist. do. $ . the russian ball.--illustrated satirical poem. do. cts. the snoblace ball. do. do. do. do. cts. an answer to hugh miller.--by t. a. davies. do. $ . cosmogony.--by thomas a. davies. vo. cloth, $ . twenty years around the world. j. guy vassar. do. $ . rural architecture.--by m. field, illustrated. do. $ . [illustration] wings and the child works by e. nesbit children's books the magic city the wonderful garden the magic world the railway children oswald bastable harding's luck the treasure seekers the wouldbegoods five children and it the phoenix and the carpet the amulet the enchanted castle nine unlikely tales the house of arden the book of dragons wet magic fiction the incomplete amorist daphne in fitzroy street these little ones man and maid salome and the head the red house dormant the literary sense in homespun fear poetry lays and legends. st series lays and legends. nd series leaves of life the rainbow and the rose a pomander of verse ballads and lyrics jesus in london ballads and lyrics of the spiritual life new poems [illustration: _photo david norris_ e. nesbit [_frontispiece._] wings and the child or the building of magic cities by e. nesbit author of "the magic city," "the wouldbegoods," etc., etc. with pictures by george barraud and from photographs hodder and stoughton new york and london _printed in _ to the reader when this book first came to my mind it came as a history and theory of the building of magic cities on tables, with bricks and toys and little things such as a child may find and use. but as i kept the thought by me it grew and changed, as thoughts will do, until at last it took shape as an attempt to contribute something, however small and unworthy, to the science of building a magic city in the soul of a child, a city built of all things pure and fine and beautiful. as you read, it will, i hope, seem to you that something of what i say is true--in much, no doubt, it will seem to you that i am mistaken; but however you may disagree with me, you will, i trust, at least have faith in the honesty of my purpose. if i seem to you to be too dogmatic, to lay down the law too much as though i were the teacher and you the learner, i beg you to believe that it is in no such spirit that i have written. rather it is as though you and i, spending a quiet evening by your fire, talked together of the things that matter, and as though i laid before you all the things that were in my heart--not stopping at every turn to say "do you not think so too?" and "i hope you agree with me?" but telling you, straight from the heart, what i have felt and thought and, i humbly say, known about children and the needs of children. i have talked to you as to a friend, without the reservations and apologies which we use with strangers. and if, in anything, i shall have offended you, i entreat you to extend to me the forgiveness and the forbearance which you would exercise towards a friend who had offended you, not meaning to offend, and to believe that i have spoken to you as frankly and plainly as i would wish you to speak to me, were you the writer and i the reader. e. nesbit. contents _part i_ page chapter i of understanding chapter ii new ways chapter iii playthings chapter iv imagination chapter v of taking root chapter vi beauty and knowledge chapter vii of building and other matters chapter viii the moral code chapter ix praise and punishment chapter x the one thing needful _part ii_ chapter i romance in games chapter ii building cities chapter iii bricks--and other things chapter iv the magic city chapter v materials chapter vi collections chapter vii the poor child's city chapter viii the end illustrations portrait of the author _frontispiece_ page the king's summer-house not much higher than the table he has created the engine the tomb in the desert stonehenge the tree like a man poppy doll doves and dragon the astrologer's tower the silver towers furniture to live with the turquoise temple the hall of pearl and red a chinese temple the square tower shell arches handkerchief tents one half of the city the tail of puss the other half of the city the hideous disfigurement of lovely hills and dales the palace of cats guarded arch boxes arches and pillars pillared court materials for the guard-room the guard-room the domino door larch palm the magic city honesty pillars trees thick arches fan window the elephant temple honesty roof clothes pegs towers and cocoanut cottage cotton reels lattice windows _part i_ chapter i of understanding it is not with any pretension to special knowledge of my subject that i set out to write down what i know about children. i have no special means of knowing anything: i do, in fact, know nothing that cannot be known by any one who will go to the only fount of knowledge, experience. and by experience i do not mean scientific experience, that is the recorded results of experiments, the tabulated knowledge wrung from observation; i mean personal experience, that is to say, memory. you may observe the actions of children and chronicle their sayings, and produce from these, perhaps, a lifelike sketch of a child, as it appears to the grown-up observer; but observation is no key to the inner mysteries of a child's soul. the only key to those mysteries is in knowledge, the knowledge of what you yourself felt when you were good and little and a child. you can remember how things looked to you, and how things looked to the other children who were your intimates. our own childhood, besides furnishing us with an exhaustless store of enlightening memories, furnishes us with the one opportunity of our lives for the observation of children--other children. there is a freemasonry between children, a spontaneous confidence and give-and-take which is and must be for ever impossible between children and grown-ups, no matter how sympathetic the grown-up, how confiding the child. between the child and the grown-up there is a great gulf fixed--and this gulf, the gulf between one generation and another, can never be really bridged. you may learn to see across it, a little, or sometimes in rare cases to lean very far across it so that you can just touch the tips of the little fingers held out from the other side. but if your dealings with those on the other side of the gulf are to be just, generous, noble, and helpful, they must be motived and coloured by your memories of the time when you yourself were on the other side--when you were a child full of your own hopes, dreams, aims, interests, instincts, and imaginings, and over against you, kindly perhaps, tenderly loving, often tenderly loved, but still in some mysterious way antagonistic and counting as "them," were the grown-ups. i might say elders, parents, teachers, spiritual pastors and masters, but the word which the child himself uses seems to me, for all reasons, to be the best word for my use, because it expresses fully and finally the nature of the gulf between. the grown-ups are the people who once were children and who have forgotten what it felt like to be a child. and time marks with the same outward brand those who have forgotten and those who do not forget. so that even the few who have managed to slip past the customs-house with their bundle of memories intact can never fully display them. these are a sort of contraband, and neither the children nor the grown-ups will ever believe that that which we have brought with us from the land of childhood is genuine. the grown-ups accuse us of invention, sometimes praise us for it, when all we have is memory; and the children imagine that we must have been watching them, and thus surprised a few of their secrets, when all that we have is the secrets which were our own when we were children--secrets which were so bound up with the fibre of our nature that we could never lose them, and so go through life with them, our dearest treasures. such people feel to the end that they are children in a grown-up world. for a middle-aged gentleman with a beard or a stout elderly lady with spectacles to move among other elderly and spectacled persons feeling that they are still children, and that the other elderly and spectacled ones are really grown-ups, seems thoroughly unreasonable, and therefore those who have never forgotten do not, as a rule, say anything about it. they just mingle with the other people, looking as grown-up as any one--but in their hearts they are only pretending to be grown-up: it is like acting in a charade. time with his make-up box of lines and wrinkles, his skilful brush that paints out the tints and the contours of youth, his supply of grey wigs and rounded shoulders and pillows for the waist, disguises the actors well enough, and they go through life altogether unsuspected. the tired eyes close on a world which to them has always been the child's world, the tired hands loose the earthly possessions which have, to them, been ever the toys of the child. and deep in their hearts is the faith and the hope that in the life to come it may not be necessary to pretend to be grown-up. such people as these are never pessimists, though they may be sinners; and they will be trusting, to the verge of what a real grown-up would call imbecility. to them the world will be, from first to last, a beautiful place, and every unbeautiful thing will be a surprise, hurting them like a sudden blow. they will never learn prudence, or parsimony, nor know, with the unerring instinct of the really grown-up, the things that are or are not done by the best people. all their lives they will love, and expect love--and be sad, wondering helplessly when they do not get it. they will expect beautiful quixotic impulsive generosities and splendours from a grown-up world which has forgotten what impulse was: and to the very end they will not leave off expecting. they will be easily pleased and easily hurt, and the grown-ups in grain will contemplate their pains and their pleasures with an uncomprehending irritation. if these children, disguised by grown-up bodies, are ever recognised for what they are, it is when they happen to have the use of their pens--when they write for and about children. then grown-up people will call them intelligent and observant, and children will write to them and ask the heart-warm, heart-warming question, "how did you know?" for if they can become articulate they will speak the language that children understand, and children will love, not them, for their identity is cloaked with grey grown-up-ness, but what they say. there are some of these in whom the fire of genius burns up and licks away the trappings under which time seeks to disguise them--andersen, stevenson, juliana ewing were such as these--and the world knows them for what they were, and adores in them what in the uninspired it would decry and despise. to these others who have the memories of childhood untainted and yet have not the gift and relief of words, to these i address myself in the first instance, because they will understand without any involved explanation on my part what it is that i am driving at, and it is these who, alone, can teach the real grown-ups the things which they have forgotten. for these things can be taught, these things can be re-learned. i would have every man and woman in whom the heart of childhood still lives, protest, however feebly and haltingly, yet with all the power of the heart, against machine-made education--against the instruction which crams a child with facts and starves it of dreams, which forces the free foot into heavy boots and bids it walk on narrow pavement, which crushes with heavy hand the wings of the soul, and presses the flower of imagination flat between the pages of a lexicon. [illustration: the king's summer-house. ]] chapter ii new ways "what," we ask with anxious gravity, "what is the best sort of teaching for children?" one might as sanely ask what is the best sort of spectacles for men, or the best size in gloves for women. and the blind coarse generalisation which underlies that question is the very heart and core of the muddled, musty maze we call education. we talk of the best sort of education for children, as we might talk of the best sort of polish for stoves, the best sort of nourishment for mice. stoves are all alike, they vary in ugliness perhaps, but the iron soul of one is as the iron soul of the other. the polish that is good for one is good for all. mice may, and do, vary in size and colour; their mousehood does not vary, nor their taste for cheese. in the inner nature, in the soul and self of it, each child is different from any other child, and the education that treats children as a class and not as individual human beings is the education whose failure is bringing our civilisation about our ears even as we speak. each child is an explorer in a new country--an explorer with its own special needs and curiosities. we put up iron railings to keep the explorers to our own sordidly asphalted paths. the little free wild creatures would seek their meat from god: we round them into herds, pen them in folds, and feed them with artificial foods--drab flat oil cakes all alike, not considering that for some brown nuts and red berries, and for some the new clean green grass, may be the bread of life. or, if you take the mind of a child to be a garden wherein flowers grow that might be trained to beauty, you bring along your steam-roller, and crush everything to a flat field where you may grow cabbages. it is so good for the field, you say--because you like cabbages. liberty is one of the rights we claim for ourselves, though god knows we get little enough of it and use still less; and liberty is one of the rights that a child above all needs--every possible liberty, of thought, of word, of deed. the old systems of education seem to have found it good to coerce a child for the simple sake of coercion--to make it do what the master chose, to make it leave undone those things which it wished to do and to do those things which it did not wish to do--nay, more, wished violently and conclusively not to do. to force the choice of the teacher on the child, to override the timid natural impulses of the child with the hard hoofs of the teacher's individuality, to crush out all initiative, to force the young supple mind into a mould, to lop the budding branches, nip off the sensitive seeking tendrils, to batter down the child's will by the brute force of the grown-up will, to "break the child's spirit," as the cursed phrase used to run--this was, in effect, what education meant. there was a picture in _punch_, i remember--at least i have forgotten the picture, but i remember the legend: "cissy, go and see what bobbie's doing, and tell him not to." it did not much matter what you made a child do, so long as it was something against the grain. he was to learn, not what he with his wonderful new curiosities and aptitudes longed to learn, but what you wished to teach; you with your dulled senses--dulled in the same bitter school as that in which he was now a sad learner. [illustration: not much higher than the table.] generation after generation has gone on, pounding away at the old silly game, each generation anxious and eager to hurt the new one as it, in its time, was hurt. each generation must, one would have thought, have remembered what things hurt children and how much these things hurt, and yet this intolerable cycle of bullying and punishment and repression went on and on and on. children were bullied and broken--and grew up to bully and break in their turn. it must be that this was because the grown-ups did not remember. those who have the care of children, who work for them, who teach them, should be those who do remember: those who have not forgotten what it feels like to be a child--any sort of child. for, though children are all different, there is a common measure among them as there is among men. a law for men cannot be good if it be made--as indeed but too often happens--by those who have forgotten what it used to feel like to be a man; and what sort of poetry do you get from one who has forgotten beauty and sorrow, and the spring, and how it feels to be young and a lover? and if the people who have the care of children have forgotten what it feels like to be a child, those who do remember should remind them. they should be reminded how it feels to be not so very much higher than the table, how it feels not to be so clever as you are now, and so much more interested in so much more--how it feels to believe in things and in people as you did when you were new to the journey of life--to explore every road you came to, to trust every person you met. it is a long time ago, but can you not remember the days when right and wrong were as different as milk and mud, when you knew that it was really wrong to be naughty and really good to be good, when you felt that your mother could do no wrong and that your father was the noblest and bravest of men? do you remember the world of small and new and joyous and delightful things? try to remember it if you would know how to help a child instead of hindering it--try to look at the world with the clear, clean eyes that once were yours in the days when you had never read a newspaper or deceived a friend. you will then be able to see again certain ideals, unclouded and radiant, which the dust of the crowded highway and the smears of getting-on have dimmed and distorted--quite simple ideals of love, faith, unselfishness, honour, truth. i know these words are often enough on the lips of all of us, but a child's ear will be able to tell whether the words spring from the lips or the heart. look back, and you will see that you yourself were also able to distinguish these things--once. education as it should be, the unfolding of a flower, not the distorting of it, is only possible to those who are willing and able themselves to become as little children. it is because certain great spirits have done this and have tried to teach others to do it, that reforms in education have begun to be at least possible. froebel, pestalozzi, signora montessori and many a lesser star has shone upon a new path. and public interest has centred more and more on the welfare of the child. books are written, societies formed, newspapers founded in the interests of the child, and true education becomes a possibility. and well indeed it is for us that this is so. for the education of the last three hundred years has led, in all things vital and spiritual, downhill all the way. we have gone on frustrating natural human intelligences and emotions, inculcating false doctrines, and choking with incoherent facts the souls which asked to be fed with dreams-come-true--till now our civilisation is a thing we cannot look at without a mental and moral nausea. we have, in our countrysides, peasants too broken for rebellion, in our cities. the mortal sickness of a mind too unhappy to be kind. if ever we are to be able to look ourselves and each other in the face again it will be because a new generation has arisen in whose ears the voice of god and his angels has not ceased to sound. if only we would see the things that belong to our peace, and lead the children instead of driving them, who knows what splendid thoughts and actions they in their natural development might bring to the salvation of the world? in the palace of education which the great minds have designed and are designing, many stones will be needed--and so i bring the little stone i have hewn out and tried to shape, in the hope that it may fit into a corner of that great edifice. for if anything is to be done, it is necessary that all who have anything to give, shall give it. as francis bacon said: "nothing can so much conduce to the drawing down, as it were, from heaven a whole shower of new and profitable inventions, as this, that the experiments of many . . . may come to the knowledge of one man, or some few, who by mutual conference may whet and sharpen one another, so that by this . . . arts may flourish, and as it were by a commixture and communication of rays, inflame one another. . . . this sagacity by literate experience may in the mean project and scatter for the benefit of man many rudiments to knowledge which may be had at hand." and that is why i have left for a little while the telling of stories and set myself to write down something of what i know about children--know by the grace of memory and by the dreams of childhood, to me, thank god, persistent and imperishable. chapter iii playthings the prime instinct of a child at play--i do not mean a child at games--is to create. i use the word confidently. he will make as well as create, if you let him, but always he will create: he will use the whole force of dream and fancy to create something out of nothing--over and beyond what he will make out of such materials as he has to hand. the five-year-old will lay a dozen wooden bricks and four cotton reels together, set a broken cup on the top of them, and tell you it is a steam-engine. and it is. he has created the engine which he sees, and you don't see, and the pile of bricks and cotton reels is the symbol of his creation. he will silently borrow your best scissors and cut a serrated band of newspaper, which he will fasten round his head (with your best brooch, if he cannot find a pin), hang another newspaper from his shoulders, and sit in state holding the hearth-brush. he will tell you that he is a king--and he is. he has created crown, robes, sceptre, and kingship. the paper and the rest of it are but symbols. [illustration: he has created the engine.] and you shall observe that the toys which the child loves best are always those toys which lend themselves to such symbolic use. [illustration: the tomb in the desert. ]] christmas is at hand. you go to buy gifts for the child, in memory of that other child whose birthday gifts were gold, frankincense, and myrrh. you go into the toyshops, elbowing your way as best you can, looking for such toys as may aid the child in his work of creative imagination. you find a vast mass and litter and jumble of incredible futilities--things made to sell, things made by people who have forgotten what it is like to be a child. mechanical toys of all sorts, stupid toys, toys that will only do one thing, and that thing vulgar and foolish. and, worst outrage of all, ugly toys, monstrosities, deformities, lead devils, grinning humpbacked clowns, "comic" dogs and cats, hideous mis-shapen pigs, incredible negroes, intolerable golliwogs. all such things the natural child, with a child's decent detestation of deformity, will thrust from it with screams of fear and hatred, till the materialistic mother or nurse explains that the horror is not really, as the child knows it to be, horrible and unnatural, but "funny." thus do we outrage the child's inborn sense of beauty, which is also the sense of health and fitness, and teach it that deformity is not shocking, not pitiable even, but just "funny." all these ugly toys are impossible as aids to clean imagination. so, almost in as great, though not in so harmful a degree, is the "character doll." the old doll was a doll, and not a character. therefore she could assume any character at your choice. the character doll is baby willy, and can never be anything else, unless imagination, exasperated and baffled, christens him silly billy in the moment of furious projection across the nursery floor. but the old doll, with her good, expressionless face and clear blue eyes, could be a duchess or a dairymaid, a captive princess or a greengrocer's wife keeping shop, a cruel stepmother or joan of arc. i beg you to try baby willy in the character of joan of arc. you cannot hope to understand children by common-sense, by reason, by logic, nor by any science whatsoever. you cannot understand them by imagination--not even by love itself. there is only one way: to remember what you thought and felt and liked and hated when you yourself were a child. not what you know now--or think you know--you ought to have thought and liked, but what you did then, in stark fact, like and think. there is no other way. do you remember the toys you liked, the toys you played with? do you remember the toys you hated--after the fading of the first day's flush of novelty, of possession? the houses with doors that wouldn't open? the stables with horses that wouldn't stand up? the shops whose goods were part of their painted shelves, whose shopmen were as fast glued behind the counter as any live shop-assistant before the passing of the shops act? and the mechanical toys--the clockwork toys. the engine was all right, even after the clockwork ran down for the last time with that inexorable whizz which told you all was over; you could build tunnels with the big brown books in the library and push the engine through with your hand--it would run quite a long way out on the other side. but the other clockwork things! how can one love and pet a mouse, no matter how furry its superficial exterior, when underneath, where its soft waistcoat and its little feet should be, there is only a hard surface from which incompetent wheels protrude? and the ostrich who draws a hansom cab, and the man who beats the boy with a stick? when they have whizzed their last, who cares for the tin relics outliving their detestable activities? think of the toys you liked: the noah's ark--full of characters. what stirring dramas of the chase, what sporting incidents, what domestic and agricultural operations could be carried out with that most royal of toys. mr. noah, i remember, was equally competent and convincing as ploughman or carter. but his chief rôle was sitting bull. his sons were inimitable as chingachgook and scalp hunters generally. you cannot play scalp hunters with the mechanical ostrich indissolubly welded to a hansom cab. [illustration: stonehenge.] you loved your bricks, i think, especially if you lived in the days when bricks were of well-seasoned oak, heavy, firm, exactly proportioned, before the boxes of inexact light deal bricks, with the one painted glass window, began to be made in germany. how finely those great bricks stood for stonehenge, and how submissively anna, the dutch doll, whose arms and legs were gone, played the part of the sacrifice. if you remember those bricks you will remember the polished, white wooden dairy sets in oval white boxes--churns and tubs and kettles and pots all neatly and beautifully turned. you will remember the doll's house furniture, rosewood, duly mitred and dovetailed, fine cabinet-makers' work, little beautiful models of beautiful things. now the dolls' house furniture is glued together. you can't trust a light-weight china doll to sit on the kitchen chairs. . . . but you can get your mechanical ostrich and your golliwog. . . . children in towns are cut off, at least for most of the year, from the splendid and ever-varying possibilities of clay and mud and sand, oak-apples and snow-berries, acorn-cups and seaweed, shells and sticks and stones which serve and foster the creative instinct, the thousand adjuncts to that play which is dream and reality in one. for them, even more than for the happier country children, it is good to choose toys which shall possess, above and before all, the one supreme quality of a good toy. let it be a toy that is not merely itself, like the ostrich of whom i hope you are now as weary as i, but a toy that can be, at need, other things. a toy, in fine, that your child can, in the fullest and most satisfying sense, play with. chapter iv imagination to the child, from the beginning, life is the unfolding of one vast mystery; to him our stalest commonplaces are great news, our dullest facts prismatic wonders. to the baby who has never seen a red ball, a red ball is a marvel, new and magnificent as ever the golden apples were to hercules. you show the child many things, all strange, all entrancing; it sees, it hears, it touches; it learns to co-ordinate sight and touch and hearing. you tell it tales of the things it cannot see and hear and touch, of men "that it may never meet, of lands that it shall never see"; strange black and brown and yellow people whose dress is not the dress of mother or nurse--strange glowing yellow lands where the sun burns like fire, and flowers grow that are not like the flowers in the fields at home. you tell it that the stars, which look like pin-holes in the floor of heaven, are really great lonely worlds, millions of miles away; that the earth, which the child can see for itself to be flat, is really round; that nuts fall from the trees because of the force of gravitation, and not, as reason would suggest, merely because there is nothing to hold them up. and the child believes; it believes all the seeming miracles. then you tell it of other things no more miraculous and no less; of fairies, and dragons, and enchantments, of spells and magic, of flying carpets and invisible swords. the child believes in these wonders likewise. why not? if very big men live in patagonia, why should not very little men live in flower-bells? if electricity can move unseen through the air, why not carpets? the child's memory becomes a store-house of beautiful and wonderful things which are or have been in the visible universe, or in that greater universe, the mind of man. life will teach the child, soon enough, to distinguish between the two. but there are those who are not as you and i. these say that all the enchanting fairy romances are lies, that nothing is real that cannot be measured or weighed, seen or heard or handled. such make their idols of stocks and stones, and are blind and deaf to the things of the spirit. these hard-fingered materialists crush the beautiful butterfly wings of imagination, insisting that pork and pews and public-houses are more real than poetry; that a looking-glass is more real than love, a viper than valour. these gradgrinds give to the children the stones which they call facts, and deny to the little ones the daily bread of dreams. of the immeasurable value of imagination as a means to the development of the loveliest virtues, to the uprooting of the ugliest and meanest sins, there is here no space to speak. but the gain in sheer happiness is more quickly set forth. imagination, duly fostered and trained, is to the world of visible wonder and beauty what the inner light is to the japanese lantern. it transfigures everything into a glory that is only not magic to us because we know who kindled the inner light, who set up for us the splendid lantern of this world. [illustration: the tree like a man.] but mr. gradgrind prefers the lantern unlighted. material facts are good enough for him. until it comes to religion. and then, suddenly, the child who has been forbidden to believe in jack the giant killer must believe in goliath and david. there are no fairies, but you must believe that there are angels. the magic sword and the magic buckler are nonsense, but the child must not have any doubts about the breastplate of righteousness and the sword of the spirit. what spiritual reaction do you expect when, after denying all the symbolic stories and legends, you suddenly confront your poor little materialist with the most wonderful story in the world? if i had my way, children should be taught no facts unless they asked for them. heaven knows they ask questions enough. they should just be taught the old wonder-stories, and learn their facts through these. who wants to know about pumpkins until he has heard cinderella? why not tell the miracle of jonah first, and let the child ask about the natural history of the whale afterwards, if he cares to hear it? and one of the greatest helps to a small, inexperienced traveller in this sometimes dusty way is the likeness of things to each other. your piece of thick bread and butter is a little stale, perhaps, and bores you; but, when you see that your first three bites have shaped it to the likeness of a bear or a beaver, dull teatime becomes interesting at once. a cloud that is like a face, a tree that is like an old man, a hill that is like an elephant's back, if you have things like these to look at, and look out for, how short the long walk becomes. [illustration: poppy doll.] and in the garden, when the columbine is a circle of doves, with spread wings and beaks that touch, when the foxglove flower is a little puck's hat which will fit on your finger, when the snapdragon is not just a snapdragon, but a dragon that will snap, and the poppies can be made into dolls with black woolly hair and grass sashes--how the enchantment of the garden grows. the child will be all the more ready to hear about the seed vessels of the columbine when he has seen the doves, and the pollen of the poppy will have a double interest for her who has played with the woolly-haired dolls. imagination gives to the child a world transfigured; let us leave it that radiant mystery for the little time that is granted. [illustration: doves and dragon.] i know a child whose parents are sad because she does not love arithmetic and history, but rather the beautiful dreams which the gradgrinds call nonsense. here are the verses i wrote for that child: for dolly who does not learn her lessons you see the fairies dancing in the fountain, laughing, leaping, sparkling with the spray. you see the gnomes, at work beneath the mountain, make gold and silver and diamonds every day. you see the angels, sliding down the moonbeams, bring white dreams, like sheaves of lilies fair. you see the imps scarce seen against the noonbeams, rise from the bonfire's blue and liquid air. all the enchantment, all the magic there is hid in trees and blossoms, to you is plain and true. dewdrops in lupin leaves are jewels for the fairies; every flower that blows is a miracle for you. air, earth, water, fire, spread their splendid wares for you. millions of magics beseech your little looks; every soul your winged soul meets, loves you and cares for you. ah! why must we clip those wings and dim those eyes with books? soon, soon enough, the magic lights grow dimmer, marsh mists arise to veil the radiant sky. dust of hard highways will veil the starry glimmer; tired hands will lay the folded magic by. storm winds will blow through those enchanted closes, fairies be crushed where weed and briar grow strong. . . . leave her her crown of magic stars and roses, leave her her kingdom--she will not keep it long! [illustration: the astrologer's tower.] chapter v of taking root when the history of our time comes to be written, it may be that the historian, remarking our many faults and weaknesses, and seeking to find a reason for them, speculating on our civilisation as we now speculate on the civilisations of rome and egypt, will come to see that the poor blossoms of civic virtue which we put forth owe their meagreness and deformity to the fact that our lives are no longer permitted to take root in material possessions. material possessions indeed we have--too much of them and too many of them--but they are rather a dust that overlays the leaves of life than a soil in which the roots of life can grow. a certain solidness of character, a certain quiet force and confidence grow up naturally in the man who lives all his life in one house, grows all the flowers of his life in one garden. to plant a tree and know that if you live and tend it, you will gather fruit from it; that if you set out a thorn-hedge, it will be a fine thing when your little son has grown to be a man--these are pleasures which none but the very rich can now know. (and the rich who might enjoy these pleasures prefer to run about the country in motor cars.) that is why, for ordinary people, the word "neighbour" is ceasing to have any meaning. the man who occupies the villa partially detached from your own is not your neighbour. he only moved in a month or so ago, and you yourself will probably not be there next year. a house now is a thing to live in, not to love; and a neighbour a person to criticise, but not to befriend. [illustration: the silver towers.] when people's lives were rooted in their houses and their gardens they were also rooted in their other possessions. and these possessions were thoughtfully chosen and carefully tended. you bought furniture to live with, and for your children to live with after you. you became familiar with it--it was adorned with memories, brightened with hopes; it, like your house and your garden, assumed then a warm friendliness of intimate individuality. in those days if you wanted to be smart, you bought a new carpet and curtains: now you "refurnish the drawing-room." if you have to move house, as you often do, it seems cheaper to sell most of your furniture and buy other, than it is to remove it, especially if the moving is caused by a rise of fortune. [illustration: furniture to live with.] i do not attempt to explain it, but there is a certain quality in men who have taken root, who have lived with the same furniture, the same house, the same friends for many years, which you shall look for in vain in men who have travelled the world over and met hundreds of acquaintances. for you do not know a man by meeting him at an hotel, any more than you know a house by calling at it, or know a garden by walking along its paths. the knowledge of human nature of the man who has taken root may be narrow, but it will be deep. the unrooted man who lives in hotels and changes his familiars with his houses, will have a shallow familiarity with the veneer of acquaintances; he will not have learned to weigh and balance the inner worth of a friend. in the same way i take it that a constant succession of new clothes is irritating and unsettling, especially to women. it fritters away the attention and exacerbates their natural frivolity. in other days when clothes were expensive, women bought few clothes, but those clothes were meant to last, and they did last. a silk dress often outlived the natural life of its first wearer. the knowledge that the question of dress will not be one to be almost weekly settled tends to calm the nerves and consolidate the character. clothes are very cheap now--therefore women buy many new dresses, and throw the shoddy things away when, as they soon do, they grow shabby. men are far more sensible. every man knows the appeal of an old coat. so long as women are insensible to the appeal of an old gown, they need never hope to be considered, in stability of character, the equals of men. the passion for ornaments--not ornament--is another of the unsettling factors in an unsettling age. the very existence of the "fancy shop" is not only a menace to, but an attack on the quiet dignity in the home. the hundreds of ugly, twisted, bizarre fancy articles which replace the old few serious "ornaments" are all so many tokens of the spirit of unrest which is born of, and in turn bears, our modern civilisation. it is not, alas! presently possible for us as a nation to return to that calmer, more dignified state when the lives of men were rooted in their individual possessions, possessions adorned with memories of the past and cherished as legacies to the future. but i wish i could persuade women to buy good gowns and grow fond of them, to buy good chairs and tables, and to refrain from the orgy of the fancy shop. so much of life, of thought, of energy, of temper is taken up with the continual change of dress, house, furniture, ornaments, such a constant twittering of nerves goes on about all these things which do not matter. and the children, seeing their mother's gnat-like restlessness, themselves, in turn, seek change, not of ideas or of adjustments, but of possessions. consider the acres of rubbish specially designed for children and spread out over the counters of countless toy-shops. trivial, unsatisfying things, the fruit of a perverse and intense commercial ingenuity: things made to sell, and not to use. when the child's birthday comes, relations send him presents--give him presents, and his nursery is littered with a fresh array of undesirable imbecilities--to make way for which the last harvest of the same empty husks is thrust aside in the bottom of the toy cupboard. and in a couple of days most of the flimsy stuff is broken, and the child is weary to death of it all. if he has any real toys, he will leave the glittering trash for nurse to put away and go back to those real toys. when i was a child in the nursery we had--there were three of us--a large rocking horse, a large doll's house (with a wooden box as annexe), a noah's ark, dinner and tea things, a great chest of oak bricks, and a pestle and mortar. i cannot remember any other toys that pleased us. dolls came and went, but they were not toys, they were characters, and now and then something of a clockwork nature strayed our way--to be broken up and disembowelled to meet the mechanical needs of the moment. i remember a desperate hour when i found that the walking doll from paris had clockwork under her crinoline, and could not be comfortably taken to bed. i had a black-and-white china rabbit who was hard enough, in all conscience, but then he never pretended to be anything but a china rabbit, and i bought him with my own penny at sandhurst fair. he slept with me for seven or eight years, and when he was lost, with my play-box and the rest of its loved contents, on the journey from france to england, all the dignity of my thirteen years could not uphold me in that tragedy. it is a mistake to suppose that children are naturally fond of change. they love what they know. in strange places they suffer violently from home-sickness, even when their loved nurse or mother is with them. they want to get back to the house they know, the toys they know, the books they know. and the loves of children for their toys, especially the ones they take to bed with them, should be scrupulously respected. children nowadays have insanitary, dusty teddy bears. i had a "rag doll," but she was stuffed with hair, and was washed once a fortnight, after which nurse put in her features again with a quill pen, and consoled me for any change in her expression by explaining that she was "growing up." my little son had a soap-stone mouse, and has it still. the fewer toys a child has the more he will value them; and it is important that a child should value his toys if he is to begin to get out of them their _full_ value. if his choice of objects be limited, he will use his imagination and ingenuity in making the objects available serve the purposes of such plays as he has in hand. also it is well to remember that the supplementing of a child's own toys by other things, _lent for a time_, has considerable educational value. the child will learn quite easily that the difference between his and yours is not a difference between the attainable and the unattainable, but between the constant possession and the occasional possession. he will also learn to take care of the things which are lent to him, and, if he sees that you respect his possessions, will respect yours all the more in that some of them are, now and then, for a time and in a sense, his. [illustration: the turquoise temple.] ] the generosity of aunts, uncles, and relations generally should be kindly but firmly turned into useful channels. the purchase of "fancy" things should be sternly discouraged. with the rocking horse, the bricks, the doll's house, the cart or wheel-barrow, the tea and dinner set, the noah's ark and the puzzle maps, the nursery will be rudimentarily equipped. the supplementary equipment can be added as it is needed, not by the sporadic outbursts of unclish extravagance, but by well-considered and slow degrees, and by means in which the child participates. for we must never forget that the child loves, both in imagination and in fact, to create. all his dreams, his innocent pretendings and make-believes, will help his nature to unfold, and his hands in their clumsy efforts will help the dreams, which in turn will help the little hands. chapter vi beauty and knowledge clever young people find it amusing to sneer at the old-fashioned ideal of combining instruction with amusement--a stupid victorian ideal, we are told, which a progressive generation has cast aside. too hastily, perhaps--too inconsiderately. "work while you work and play while you play" is a motto dealing with a big question, and one to which there are at least two sides. entirely to divorce amusement and instruction--may not this tend to make the one dull and the other silly? in this, as in some other matters, our generation might well learn a little from its ancestors. in many ways no doubt we have far surpassed the simple ideals of our forefathers, but in the matter of amusements, in the matter of beauty, in the matter of teaching children things without boring them, or giving powders really and truly concealed in jam--have we advanced so much? to begin with, the world is much uglier than it was. at least england is, and france, and belgium, and italy, and i do not suppose that germany, so far ahead of us with airships, is far behind in the ugliness which seems to be, with the airship, the hall-mark of a really advanced nation. we are proud, and justly, of the enormous advances made in the last sixty years in education, sanitation, and all the complicated and heavy machinery of the other 'ations, the 'ologies, and the 'isms; but in these other matters how is it with us? we have grown uglier, and the things which amuse no longer teach. for a good many years now--more than three hundred--old men have said "such things and such were better in our time." and always the young have disbelieved the saying, which in due course came from their own lips. has it ever occurred to any one that the reason why old people say this is quite the simplest of all reasons? they say it because it is _true_, and true in our land in quite a special manner. the chariot wheels of advancing civilisation must always furrow some green fields, grind some fair flowers in the dust. but the chariot wheels in which civilisation to-day advances grows less and less like a chariot and more and more like a steam-roller, and unless we steer better there will very soon be few flowers left to us. those of us who have reached middle age already see that the old men spoke truly. things are not what they were. without dealing with frauds and adulterations and shoddy of all sorts we can see that things are not so good as they were, nor yet so beautiful. and i do not think that this means just that we are growing old, and that the fingers of time have rubbed the bloom from the fruit of life. because those things which must be now as they used to be, trees, leaves, rivers, and the laughter of little children, flowers, the sea at those points where piers are impracticable, and mountains--the ones stony and steep enough to resist the jerry-builder and the funicular railway--still hold all, and more than all, their old magic and delight. it seems that it is not only that the ugly and unmeaning things have grown, like a filthy fungus, over the sheer beauty of the world, but that the things that people mean to be beautiful are not beautiful, and the things they mean to be interesting lack interest. and the disease is universal: it attacks new things as well as old. the cinematographs even, newest of the new, as things went in the old world; already the canker has eaten them up. in the first year of picture palaces we all crowded to see beautiful pictures of beautiful places: niagara, the zambesi falls, the grand cañon. the comic pieces were perhaps french, but they were certainly funny. also we saw the way the world lived, when it was the other side of the world: "elephants a-piling teak," naked savages, or as near naked as don't matter, moving in ceremonial dance before the idols that were the gods of their deep dangerous faith. dramas of love and death and pity and poverty. quite often in the early days the cinematograph tale was of some workman driven by want to the theft of a loaf. it is true that the story generally ended in his conviction and the adoption of his charming baby girl by the wife of the _juge d'instruction_, but all the same people saw some one poor and sad and tempted, and were sorry and sad for his sake. also we had tales of indians with men that rode amain, and horses that one longed to bestride, such beauties they were, all fire and delicate strong temperament. war dramas too there were, where the hero left his sweetheart, and turned coward perhaps, redeeming himself with magnificent completeness in the splendid _débâcle_ of a forlorn hope. that is all over. already the sordid, heavy hand that smears commercial commonplace on all the bright facets of romance has obscured the vivid possibilities of the cinematograph. we have now for fun the elaborate hurting of one american person by another american person; for scenery, american flat-iron buildings; for romance the incredibly unimportant emotions of fleshy american actresses and actors. there are two girls, good and bad; two men, bad and good. in the end the good man gets the good girl, which is, of course, as it should be, or would be if we could believe in any moral quality in these fat-faced impersonators. you don't care a bit who wins, but none the less, the four of them mouth and mop and mow and make faces at you through five interminable acts, and when the good young man marries the good young woman in a parlour grossly furnished according to american ideals, you feel that both of them are well punished for their unpardonable existence. all real and delicate romance has, we observe, been wiped out by the cinematograph. [illustration: the hall of pearl and red] it has long been the fashion to sneer at the crystal palace, and indeed the poor dear has gone from bad to worse. there are exhibitions there all exactly like all other exhibitions: switch-backs, _montagnes russes_, silhouettes, tumble-scumbles, weary waves, threepenny thrills (where you hustle against strangers and shriek at the impact). but once the crystal palace was otherwise. in the victorian days we sneer at, when our fathers could not see that there was any quarrel between knowledge and beauty, both of whom they loved, they built the crystal palace as a temple vowed to these twin deities of their worship. think what the crystal palace was then. think what its authors intended it to be. think what, for a little time, it was. a place of beauty, a place where beauty and knowledge went hand in hand. it is quite true that a brobdingnagian conservatory does not seem so beautiful to us as it did to the prince consort and sir joseph paxton. it is true that even in the palmiest days of the crystal palace you barked your shins over iron girders--painted a light blue, my memory assures me--and that the boards of the flooring were so far apart that you could lose, down the cracks of them, not only your weekly sixpence or your birthday shilling, but even the sudden unexpected cartwheel (do they still call a crown that?) contributed by an uncle almost more than human. it is true that the gravel of the paths in the "grounds" tired your feet and tried your temper, and that the adventure ended in a clinging to bony fingers and admonitions from nurse "not to drag so." but on the other hand. . . . think of the imagination, the feeling for romance that went to the furnishing of the old crystal palace. there was a lake in the grounds of penge park. how would our twentieth century _entrepreneurs_ deal with a lake? we need not pause to invent an answer. we know it would be something new and nasty. how did these despised mid-victorians deal with it? they set up, amid the rocks and reeds and trees of the island in that lake, life-sized images of the wonders of a dead world. on a great stone crouched a pterodactyl, his vast wings spread for flight. a mammoth sloth embraced a tree, and i give you my word that when you came on him from behind, you, in your six years, could hardly believe that he was not real, that he would not presently leave the tree and turn his attention to your bloused and belted self. (little boys wore caps with peaks then, and blouses with embroidered collars.) convinced, at last, by the cold feel of his flank to your fat little hand, that he was but stone, you kept, none the less, a memory of him that would last your life, and make his name, when you met it in a book, as thrilling as the name of a friend in the list of birthday honours. there was an ichthyosaurus too, and another chap whose name i forget, but he had a scalloped crest all down his back to the end of his tail. and the dinosaurus . . . he had a round hole in his antediluvian stomach: and, with a brother--his own turn to come next, as in honour bound--to give you a leg-up, you could explore the roomy interior of the dinosaur with feelings hardly to be surpassed by those of bandits in a cave. it is almost impossible to over-estimate the dinosaurus as an educational influence. on your way back to the palace itself you passed water temples surrounded by pools where water-lilies grew. afterwards, when you read of tanks and lotuses and india, you knew what to think. there were sphinxes--the correct plural was told you by aunts, and you rejected it on the terrace--and, within, more smooth water with marble at the edge and more lilies, and goldfish, palms, and ferns, and humming pervasive music from the organ. there were groves or shrubberies; you entered them a-tremble with a fearful joy. you knew that round the next corner or the next would be black and brown and yellow men; savages, with their huts and their wives and their weapons, their looking-glass-pools and their reed tunics, so near you that it was only a step across a little barrier and you could pretend that you also were a black, a brown, or a yellow person, and not a little english child in a tunic, belt, and peaked cap. you never took the step, but none the less those savages were your foes and your friends, and when you met them in your geography you thrilled to the encounter. further, there were courts; i first met venus, the armless wonder of milo, and hermes, embodied vision of praxiteles, and the discobolus, whom we all love, and who is exactly like mr. graham wallas in youth, in the grecian court. in the egyptian court there were pictured pillars, and the very word egypt is to me for their sake a word of power to this day. and the spanish court, the court of the alhambra, the lovely mosaic, the gold and the blue and the red, the fountain, the marble, the strange unnatural beauty of the horseshoe arches. . . . i shall never see the alhambra now, but it is because of the spanish court at the crystal palace that there will always be an empty ache in my thought, an ache of the heart, a longing that is not all pain, at its name, a feeling like a beautiful dwarf despair, in that i never shall see that blue and red and golden glory, and the mystery of its strange mis-shapen arches that open to the whole world of dreams. say of the mid-victorians what you will; they did at least know, when they set them, the seeds of romance. think of euston station: those glorious pillars, the magnificent dream of an egyptian building to loom through the egyptian darkness of london's fogs. and the architecture of egypt was too expensive, and euston remains, a magnificent memorial--the child of genius stunted by finance. there was madame tussaud's too, a close link with the french revolution: the waxen heads of kings and democrats, the very guillotine itself. and madame tussaud's daughter, with the breathing breast that seemed alive, and the little old woman in the black bonnet, madame herself, who had seen the rise of republics and the deaths of kings. these things, last time i trod those halls, were put in the shade, their place usurped by vulgar tableaux, explaining to the bored spectators what happens to a vulgar young man with a wife whose skirt is much too short in front and her hair very badly done, if he leaves his home for the society of sirens and cardsharpers. the tableaux were cheap and nasty, and taught one nothing that one could not learn from the _police news_. once there were nightingales that sang in the gardens on loampit hill. now it is all villas. once the hilly fields were hilly fields where the children played, and there were primroses. once the road from eltham to woolwich was a grassy lane with hedges and big trees in the hedges, and wild pinks and bethlehem stars, and ragged robin and campion. now the trees are cut down and there are no more flowers. it is asphalt all the way, and here and there seats divided by iron rods so that tired tramps should not sleep on them. and the green fields by mottingham where the kingcups used to grow, and the willows by the little stream, they are eaten up by yellow caterpillars of streets all alike, all horrible; while in london old handsome houses are tenements, and children play on the dirty doorsteps of them with dead mice and mutton bones for toys. in the country women wear men's tweed caps instead of sunbonnets, and hinde's curlers by day instead of curl papers (which if you were pretty, looked like wreaths of white roses) by night. and everything is getting uglier and uglier. and no one seems to care. and only the old people remember that things were not always ugly, remember how different things were--once. [illustration: a chinese temple.] therefore i would plead with all those who have to do with children to resist and to denounce uglification wherever they may meet with it, and to remember that there is knowledge which goes hand in hand with beauty. to show a child beautiful things, and to answer as well all the questions he will ask about them, to charm and thrill his imagination with pictures and statues and models of the wonders of the world, to familiarise the child with beauty, so that he knows ugliness when he meets it, and hates it for the outrage it is to the beauty he has known and loved ever since he was very little--this is worth doing. if we would make beauty the dear rule of a man's life, and ugliness the hated exception, we should make beauty as familiar to the child as the air he breathes, and if we associate knowledge with beauty the child will love them both. chapter vii of building and other matters a moment of rapturous anticipation lights life when the kind aunt or uncle has given the bricks, when the flat, sliding lid has been slipped back, and the smooth wooden cubes and oblongs have tumbled resoundingly on table or floor. "i am going to build a palace," says the child. or a tower or a church. and, the highest hopes inspiring him, he sets out on the new adventure. but he does not build a palace or a church, or even a railway station. what he builds is a factory, or a wall, or, in the case of the terra-cotta bricks, a portion of a french gentleman's country villa--the kind you see dozens of along the railway between paris and versailles. and however strong the child's desire that what he shall build shall be a palace or a church, that is, something beautiful and romantic, what he does build will always be the last thing he does, or ought to, admire. the fault is in the materials. they are lacking both in quality and quantity. no box of bricks that can at present be bought for money will build anything that can satisfy an imaginative child. an ordinary box of bricks--a really handsome one--measures, say, by by in. if anything admirable is to be built from this amount of material the material ought to be presented in very small cubes, oblongs and arches--say in. by ½ in. for the largest bricks, and going down to ¼ by ¼ by ¼ in. given these proportions a really pretty though undistinguished building might result. but in the box of bricks by by in. the smallest cube measures ¾ in. and the largest brick by ¾ by ¾ in. these long slabs of surface cannot be broken and disguised in such small buildings as the only ones which the materials are enough to build. hence, the deadly monotony of façade, broken only by the three or, in the case of the really handsome box, five arches, and suggesting nothing so much as a "works" or a workhouse. [illustration: the square tower.] in the bricks themselves there is not enough variety. the stone bricks, it is true, have broken out into a variety of ugly shapes and a blue colour with which you can, if you like, build a mansard roof. but a mansard roof in a coarse ugly blue tint, is no thing of beauty. besides, it needs a solid substructure to support it, and if you make your building solid, every brick in your box will be used up, and all you will have to show for it will be a partially built wing of a peculiarly undesirable villa residence, replete with every modern inconvenience. nor must it be supposed that the difficulty can be met by adding more and more boxes of bricks. add them, by all means; and the result will be a larger and probably an uglier factory, or a completed, and therefore more completely hideous, villa. unless you are a millionaire, and have a toy cupboard as big as a pantechnicon, you will never have enough bricks to build up the solid masses which rest the eye, and give solidity and dignity to architecture. among such solid masses _steps_ are not the least important. every child knows that a really good flight of steps will take half the bricks in his box and leave insufficient material for the edifice to which the steps were intended to lead up. the tall broad smooth wall, its quiet surface disturbed only by one or two windows, a flight of steps and a doorway, is for ever out of reach of the child who has only bricks wherewith to build. [illustration: shell arches] the arches supplied with boxes of bricks are usually few and badly proportioned. there is seldom any provision for setting them up in a colonnade. the pillars which will support the ends of two arches are too wide for the _end_ arch, which is single. this difficulty is dealt with in stone bricks, but not in wooden ones; at any rate so far as my experience goes. there never was a time, one supposes, when so much money was spent on children and their toys. it is impossible to believe that, should some toy maker design and put on the market really desirable bricks for children, there would not be a ready sale for them. i suggest, then, that bricks are too large, and too small--and that what is needed is much smaller bricks, and much larger ones. the bricks in the old chest in our nursery started with -in. cubes, and went on in gradations of -in. to the largest brick-- by by in. the chest itself must have been at least by by ½ ft. another detestable quality in our modern bricks is their inexactness--a sixteenth or even a quarter of an inch, more or less, is no more to the maker of bricks nowadays than it is to a bad dressmaker. our bricks were well and truly cut: they were of seasoned oak, smooth and pleasant to touch--none of the rough-sawn edges which vex the hand and render the building unstable; they were heavy--a very important quality in bricks. they "stayed put." i suggest that such bricks as these, supplemented by arches of varied curves, but unvarying thicknesses, and slabs of board varying in breadth but not in length, would not be a toy beyond the purse of kind uncles and aunts, and certainly not beyond the means of our council schools. the slabs of boards are to build steps with and to make roofs with. every child who has ever built with bricks feels the reckless wastefulness of using for steps the bricks so much needed for walls and towers. and who has not experienced the aggravation of finding when his tower is built that he has used up all the long bricks near its foundation and has now none left which are long enough to lay across its summit and form its roof? the slabs of board should be, like the bricks, of seasoned oak, and should be an inch thick. there should be plenty of arches--so as to render possible some sort of resemblance to norman and classical architecture. but bricks alone, however beautiful and varied, cannot as building material have the value which material freely chosen would have. children love to make mud pies, and to build sand castles, because the material is plastic and responds with more or less of docility to their demands upon it. also there is always enough of it, which there never is of bricks, or for the matter of that, of plasticine. i can imagine a splendid happiness for a child in a bushel of plasticine--but the sticks of plasticine are too small to be made into anything architecturally satisfying; and much too expensive for ordinary children to have in any but such quantities as encourage niggling. you will notice that children never tire of building sand castles on the sea-shore--but they would soon tire of building with a quart of damp sand on a table. it is true that the sea washes away your sand castle, usually before it is finished, but its end is finely catastrophic and full of damp delightful incident. also the climax has the great essential of drama--it is inevitable. how different the demolition of the brick-built house by mamma, who wants space for cutting out, or by mary, who desires to lay the table. the most promising of palaces, the most beautiful of bridges, are, at the urgence of these grown-up needs, swept away, and so, never being able to finish anything, the builder becomes discouraged. perhaps he takes to the floor as an eligible building site, only to find his buildings exposed to the tempestuous petticoat of mary, or the carelessly stepping high-heeled shoes of mamma. the same thing happens with a dolls' school, or a dolls' dinner-party, or any game requiring pageantry of any sort--so that little girls who would like their dolls to be actors in some scene of magnificence find no safe place for the actors save in their arms--and nurse with enforced premature maternal fussings the doll who, in happier circumstances, might be a druid or a martyr, or francis the first at the field of the cloth of gold. it is better to the child's mind that the cherished doll should safely be baby for ever, than that it should be francis the first and get walked on. in any house where space makes such a thing possible, a table might be set aside for children, to be their very own--a table on which neither food nor millinery should ever trespass. of course it is needful that toys and pseudo-toys should be "put away" daily, but it is not necessary that they should all be put away. those which are being used in some splendid half-developed scheme might surely be allowed to stay where they are, so that it may be possible to go on with the game next day. a truce might be called of that ruthless tidying up which, every day, destroys the new idea, and compels the child each day to produce a new scheme instead of allowing it to work on yesterday's and bring it to something a little nearer the perfection which it touched when the child's mind first conceived it. but, it may be urged, children leave everything half-finished, and go off to something else. of course they do--but clear away the half-finished thing, and you will find when they come back from the butterfly flight after some other interest, that they will not be pleased with you. "i've put all your bricks nicely away," you say proudly; and tommy will say "bother!" in his heart, even if his lips are sufficiently trained to avoid that expletive and to substitute: "i do wish you hadn't: i wanted to finish building my tower." you see one thing leads to another. it isn't that children are any more bird-witted than we are: it is that they have not yet learned to restrain the thousand curiosities, desires, and creative impulses proper to their age. you, of course, if you desired to set up a tableau of the field of the cloth of gold, would sit down with a bit of pencil and the back of an envelope and jot down all the properties required for staging the scene. but the child who has "had" the field "in history," and whose imagination has been stirred by the name of it--a thing that will happen under the stupidest of teachers--sets up henry and francis in paper crowns and only then begins to see that tents and banners and cloth of gold are lacking. perhaps he goes off to the village shop to get flags, perhaps to your handkerchief case for tent-cloth, perhaps to the meadow beyond the orchard to gather buttercups. while on any of these quests some supremely important event may strike across his plans, and overshadow them--a new kitten, a gift from the gardener of plants for his little garden, or the fact that some one is going fishing. then francis and henry are forgotten, the buttercups left dying on the doorstep, and the tent-cloth crammed into the pockets among string, stamps, acid drops, and pieces of the watch he took to pieces last holidays and never put together again, and he will follow the new trail. but he will come back to the field of the cloth of gold, and if you have "tidied up" the kings and put their crowns in the wastepaper basket the child will be disappointed and worried, his imagination checked and his scheme baffled. [illustration: handkerchief tents.] his annexation of your handkerchiefs will not occur if you have accustomed him to come to you or to his nurse for the means to his small ends; but if there is no one to whom he can apply for help, you will find that he will not stick at the sacred threshold of your handkerchief case. the tents of the field of the cloth of gold will be far more important to him than the inviolability of that scented treasure-house--unless, of course, you happen to have explained to him exactly how much you dislike that your handkerchiefs should keep the sort of company they meet with in his pockets. then, if he loves you, and has found you reasonable, he will refrain, while wondering at your prejudices. but he will--or ought to--find some other material for tents--letter paper perhaps. letter paper makes quite good tents, though not nearly so good, of course, as handkerchiefs folded diagonally--supported by a central pole, say a penholder, and fastened down at the tucked-in corners with pins or rose thorns. you can explain to him that rose-thorns hurt handkerchiefs, but you will not punish him if this has not occurred to him. and this brings one to the question of crime and punishment, of which perhaps i had better say what i have to say before i go on talking about bricks and how to supplement them. as i was saying, one thing leads to another. chapter viii the moral code in attempting to explain and enforce a moral code, the first and most essential need is to formulate definitely to oneself the code which one proposes to enforce and to explain. there is nothing from which children, and subject human beings generally, suffer so much as the incoherence of the thought of those in authority over them. before you can begin to lay down the law you must know what that law is, and your heart, soul, and spirit must not only know it, but approve it, before you can gain a willing obedience to it from those on whom you wish to impose it. by this i do not mean only that we ought to make up our minds whether this, that, or the other isolated act is right or wrong, as it occurs, but that we ought to have a clear perception and knowledge of the things that are right and the things that are wrong, and have a standard which we can apply to any new action brought under our notice, so that, measuring the new act by our old standard, we shall be able to say, with some sort of rough accuracy, "this is wrong," or "this is right." and the standard of expediency is not a good one for this purpose, nor is the standard of custom, nor yet the standard of gentility or the standard of success in life. children are not good judges of expediency. the law of mere custom will not be strong enough to bind them when desire calls with enchanting voice to forbidden things. gentility and the gospel of getting on will leave them cold. you may at first deal merely with a succession of unrelated particulars, saying, "this is right," "this is wrong," beating down the children's questionings by your mere _ipse dixit_; but a time will come when it will not be enough, in answer to their "why is it wrong?" "why is it right?" to answer "because i say so." the child will want some other standard which he himself can apply. the standard of what you say may be a shifting one, and anyhow, he cannot be at all sure what you will say unless he knows what is your standard, the standard by which you will decide whether to say, in any given case, that a thing is wrong or right. and in order that you may clearly set before the child your own moral standard you must first have set it very clearly before yourself. it is not enough to say, "stealing is wrong," "lying is wrong," "greediness is wrong." if you feel that these things are wrong because they are contrary to the will of god, you will not find that that explanation is sufficient for a child unless he knows very much more about god than his name and certain miraculous and incomprehensible attributes of his. he will want to know what is the will of god, to which these wrong things are contrary. and he will want very much to know the definite right as well as the definite wrong. you will have to give the child a standard that can be applied to positives as well as negatives. there is a very simple standard by which to measure the actions of children--and, much more severely, our own actions. it is set up in the words of christ: "do unto others as you would they should do unto you"--a standard so simple that quite little children can understand and apply it, a standard so severe that were it understood and applied by us who are no longer children, the warped, tangled, rotten web we call civilisation could not endure for a day. there is no other standard by which a child can judge its own actions, and yours, and judge them justly. having fixed your standard it will be necessary to try your own actions by it as well as the child's. and this standard will give you the only vital code of morality, because it compels the continual exercise of imagination, the continual preening and flight of the wings of the soul. you cannot order your life by that divine precept without a hundred times a day asking yourself, "how should _i_ like that, if i were not myself?" without continually putting yourself, imaginatively, in some one else's place. and when the child asks, "why is it wrong to steal?" you can lead him to see how little he would like to have his own possessions stolen. when he asks, "why is it wrong to lie?" you may teach him to imagine his own bitterness if others should deceive him. it is, of course, much easier to say, "it is wrong because i say so," or even "because god says so"; but if you want to mark it right or wrong, to grave it deeply and ineffaceably on the tables of the heart and the soul, teach the child to see for himself _how_ things are right and wrong--and to judge of them by that one divine and unfailing rule. of course even when the child knows what is right he will not always do it, any more than you do: and one of the questions to be considered is how you shall deal with those lapses from moral rectitude of which he, no less than you, will often be guilty. punishments, the old savage punishments, were revenge, and nothing but revenge, a desire to "pay out" the offender, to take an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. more humane and reasonable legislators have sought to prove that punishment is curative--that the fear of punishment will deter people from doing wrong. a distinguished official of the home office gave it as his opinion only the other day that punishment, no matter how severe, will not act as a deterrent, if there is ever so slight a chance of the criminal's escaping it. what would deter would be the _certainty_ of punishment, however slight. now since you are not omniscient you cannot pretend to your child that if he does wrong you are certain to know and to punish him: if you are silly enough to pretend it, he will find you out immediately, and estimate your lie at its true blackness. you can, however, without any pretence, assure him that if he does wrong he himself will know it, that it will make him feel unclean and nasty, and miserable till he is able to wash himself in the waters of repentance and forgiveness. that if he acts meanly and dirtily he will feel dirty and mean, and if he acts bravely and cleanly he will feel clean and brave. and he will find that what you say is true. but not unless you shall have succeeded in convincing him that your standard is a true standard, and that the things which that standard shows to be wrong are wrong indeed. here is the highest work of the imagination: to teach the child so to put himself in the place of the one he has wronged that the knowledge of that wrong shall be its own punishment. no one desires, of course, that a child should be always feeling his own moral pulse: if he has learned that there is a right and a wrong way he will not be always bothering about which way he may be living--it will be only when something goes amiss that he will stop and consider. just as one does not stop to think whether one is breathing properly, only when one chokes one knows that one isn't. [illustration: one half of the city. ]] punishment, however, should not be confused with the consequences of action, and while children are yet too small to understand all that god may be to them, it is possible to show them the _consequences_ of their misdeeds, magnifying these beyond the consequences of the act to be reprobated and thus pointing the general moral. i mean that one may honourably apply, to the small wrong-doings of childhood, the _sort_ of consequences--proportioned, of course, to the wrong-doing--which would result from such wrong-doing on a larger scale by a grown-up person. it will be exceedingly troublesome and painful for you, but perhaps its painfulness to you may be the measure of its value to the child. for instance, tommy steals a penny, knowing that to steal pennies is wrong. he is very little, and a penny is very little, and your impulse, if not to slap him, might be to tell him that he is a very naughty boy and have done with it. it will go to your heart to bring home to him the consequences of theft, especially as you cannot do it at once; but if, next time you are about to send him to the shop for something, you say, "no: i can't send you because you might steal my pennies as you did the other day"--this will be hateful for you to do--but it will show him more plainly than anything else what happens to people who steal. they are not trusted. and the same with lies. show him that those who tell lies are not believed. but, remembering how it felt to be a child, have pity, and do not teach him these lessons when any one else is there. let the humiliation of them be a secret between you two alone. only when a wrong has been done which demands a restitution or an amend should the soul of the child, shamed with wrong-doing, be exposed to alien eyes. when we sit in judgment on the aggressions and on the shortcomings of others the first need is neither justice nor mercy, but imagination with self-knowledge. the judge should be able to put himself in the place of the accused, to perceive, by sympathetic vision, the point of view of the one who stands before the judgment-seat. the judge is an adult human being, and therefore has some knowledge of the mental and moral processes of human beings. he should use this knowledge; and when it comes to a grown-up judging a child, it is no less necessary for the judge to place himself imaginatively in the place of the small offender. and this cannot be done by imagination and self-consideration alone. memory is needed. let me say it again: there is only one way of understanding children; they cannot be understood by imagination, by observation, nor even by love. they can only be understood by memory. only by remembering how you felt and thought when you yourself were a child can you arrive at any understanding of the thoughts and feelings of children. when you were a child you suffered intensely from injustice, from want of understanding, in your grown-up censors. you were punished when you had not meant to do wrong: you escaped punishment when you had not meant to do right. the whole scheme of grown-up law seemed to you, and very likely was, arbitrary and incomprehensible. and you suffered from it desperately. so much that, even if you have now forgotten all that you suffered, the mark of that suffering none the less remains on your soul to this day. it would seem that the humiliations, the mortifications endured in childhood leave an ineffaceable brand on the spirit. how then can we not remember, and, remembering, refrain from hurting other children as we were hurt? the spirit of the child is sensitive to the slightest change in the atmosphere about him. you can convey disapproval quite easily--and approval also. but while most parents and guardians are constantly alive to the necessity for expressing disapproval and inflicting punishment, the other side of the medal seems to be hidden from them. the most prevalent idea of training children is the idea of prohibition and punishment. "you are not to do it! you will? then take that!" the blow or punishment following, expresses simply and exactly the whole theory of moral education held by the mass of modern mothers. the vast mistake, both in the education of children and government of nations, is the heavy stress laid on the negative virtues. also the fact that punishment follows on the failure _not_ to do certain things--whereas no commensurate reward is offered even for success in _not_ doing, let alone for success in active and honourable well-doing. the reward of negative virtue is negative also, and consists simply in non-punishment. the rewards of active virtue are, in the world of men, money and praise. but there are deeds for which money cannot pay, and sometimes these are rewarded by medals and paragraphs in the newspapers--not at all the same thing as being rewarded by the praise of your fellow-men. now children, like all sane human beings, love praise. they love it more keenly perhaps than other human beings because their natural craving for it has not been overlaid with false modesties and shames. they have not learned that praise to the face is open disgrace. on the contrary, praise to the face seems to them natural, right, and altogether desirable. see that they get it. do you remember when you were little how you struggled to exercise some tiresome negative virtue, such as not biting your nails, not teasing the cat, not executing, with your school-boots, that heavy shuffling movement, so simply relieving to you, so mysteriously annoying to the grown-ups? can you have forgotten how for ages and ages--three or four days, even--you refrained from drinking water with your mouth full of food, from leaving your handkerchief about in obvious spots natural and convenient, how you sternly denied yourself the pleasure of drawing your hoop stick along the front railings--because, though you enjoyed this musical exercise, others did not? and how, all through the interminable period of self-denial, you heartened yourself to these dismal refrainings by the warm comfortable thought, "_won't_ they be pleased?"--and how they never were. they took it all as a matter of course. to them, because they had forgotten how it felt to be a child, all your heroic sacrifices and renunciations counted as nothing. to them it was natural that a child should keep his fingers out of his mouth, and off the tail of puss, should keep his feet still and his handkerchief in his pocket, should do the suitable things with meat, drink, and hoop-sticks. they never noticed, and so they never praised. but when, worn out by long abstinence from natural joys, natural relaxations, you broke one of those rules which seemed to you so useless and so arbitrary, then they noticed fast enough. [illustration: the tail of puss.] "can you _never_ remember," they said, "just a simple thing like not biting your nails?" bitter aloes following, no doubt. or, "i really should have thought," they would say, "that considering the number of times i've spoken about it you would remember not to make that frightful noise," with boots or hoop sticks or a blade of wet grass or what not. they did not pause to think, in their earnest grown-up business of "bringing the boy up," how many, how very many, and how seemingly silly, were the "don'ts" which you had to remember. but you will not be like that: you will notice and approve, and most needful of all, reward with praise the earnest, difficult refrainings of the child who is trying to please you: who is trying to learn the long table of your commandments all beginning with "thou shalt not," and to practise them, not because these commandments appeal to him as reasonable or just or useful, but just because he loves you, wants to please you, and, deepest need of love, wants you to be pleased with him. a hasty yet determined effort at putting yourself in his place is the thing needed every time you have to sit in judgment on the actions of another human being--most of all when that human being is a little child. if we cultivated this habit we should not hurt other people as we do. i have seen cruel things. a little girl, suffering from a slight affection of the eye, was given by a sympathetic aunt the run of a box of that aunt's old ball-dresses. she spent a whole hour in arranging a costume which seemed to her to be of royal beauty. a crushed pink tulle dress, a many-coloured striped roman sash, white satin slippers, put on over the black strapped shoes, and turning up very much at the toes. white gloves, very dirty and wrinkled like a tortoise's legs over the plump dimpled arms. hair dressed high on the head over a pad of folded stockings, secured by hairpins borrowed from the housemaid. a wreath, of crushed red calico roses from somebody's last summer's hat, some pearl beads, the property of cook, and a blue heart out of a cracker--saved since christmas. "i am a beautiful princess," said the child, and the housemaid responded heartily: "that you are, ducky, and no mistake. go and show mother." but mother, when she was told that this stumbling, long-tailed bundle of crushed finery was a beautiful princess, laughed and said, "princess rag-bag, i should say." "it's only pretending, you know," the child explained, wondering why explanations should be needed by mother and not by eliza. the mother laughed again. "i shouldn't pretend to be a princess with that great stye in my eye," she said, and thought no more about it. but the child remembers to this day how she slunk away and tore off the beautiful princess-clothes, and cried and cried and cried, and wished that she was dead. children really do wish that, sometimes. another form of cruelty is mere carelessness. a child spends hours in preparing some surprise for you--decorates your room with flowers, not in the best taste perhaps, and fading maybe before your impatiently awaited arrival--or ties scarves and handkerchiefs to the banisters to represent flags at your home-coming. "very pretty, dear," you say carelessly, hardly looking--and the child sees that you hardly look, "and now clear it all away, there's a dear!" the child clears it all away, and with the dying flowers something else is cleared away, something that will no more live again than will the faded flowers. be generous of praise--it is the dew that waters the budding flowers of kindness and love and unselfishness: it is to all that is best in the child the true elixir of life. chapter ix praise and punishment [illustration: the other half of the city. ]] while admitting that no pains can be too great, no labours too arduous to spend upon the education of the child, we must not shut our eyes to the fact that the sacrifice of the grown-up may often be better for him--or much more often her--than it is for the child for whom that sacrifice is made. there is a certain danger that the enthusiastic educator, passionately desiring to sacrifice her whole life, may incidentally, and quite without meaning it, sacrifice something very vital in the child. for the child whose every want is anticipated, whose every thought is considered, who is surrounded by the softness of love and the sweetness of sympathy, is not unlikely to disappoint and dismay the fond parent or guardian, pastor or master, by growing up selfish, cowardly, heartless and ungrateful; with no capacity for obedience, no power of endurance, no hardihood, no resource--whining in adversity and intolerable in success. the object of education is to fit the child for the life of the man. once it was held that a rigorous discipline, enforced by violence, was the best preparation for the life which is never too easy or too soft. now we have changed all that, and there is some danger that the pendulum may swing too far, and that the aim of education may come to mean only the ensuring of a happy childhood, without arming the child for the battle of life. it is right that to the educator the child should be the prime object, the centre of the universe, the prime consideration to which every other consideration must give way. but there is the danger that the child may become his own prime object, not only the centre of his own universe, but its circumference, and cherish, deeply rooted in his inmost soul, the conviction that all other considerations should and will give way to his desires. life, we know, will teach him, in her rough, hard school, that he is only the centre of his own universe in that sense in which the same is true of us all--that far from being the prime object of the world which surrounds him, he himself counts for little or nothing, except to those who love him--and that the consideration he receives will not be, as was the consideration lavished on him in his childhood, free, ungrudging, and invariable, but will be conditioned by the services he renders to others and the extent to which he can be to them pleasant or useful. life, it is true, will teach him all this, but if her teaching be a course of lessons in a wholly new subject, they will be very difficult to learn, and the learning will hurt. whereas if, from the very beginning, the child is taught to understand the interdependence of human beings, the fact that rights involve duties and that duties confer rights, he will be able to apply and to use for his own help the lessons which later life will teach him. more, he will have at the outset of life the advantage which one with a clear conception of rights and duties has over one who only sees life as a muddle and maze of things that are "jolly hard lines." they suffer as without hope who see that the world needs mending, and have never made up their minds what sort of world they would like. whereas the child to whom, quite early, the lesson of human solidarity has been taught will, when he shall be a man, know very well what he wants, and will be able, however humbly, to help, in his day and generation, to re-mould the world to the fashion of his desire. it is not difficult to teach children the duties of kindness and helpfulness to others, and the duty of public spirit and loyalty to their fellow-men. a healthy child is active, energetic, and deeply desirous of using his senses and his faculties. it is possible to assign to quite a small child certain duties, but the wise educator will manage to make such duties privileges and not tasks. the system of sentencing children to the performance of useful offices by way of punishment is abominable. it gives them for ever a distaste for that particular form of social service. if we must punish, let us not permit the punishments to trench on the province of useful and, in good conditions, pleasant tasks. give the boy an imposition rather than an order to weed the shrubbery walk; set the girl to learn a french verb rather than to hem dusters. the consciousness of being useful is very dear to children--it is worth while to feel and to show gratitude to them for all services rendered, and though it may be, as they say, more trouble than it is worth to teach the children to help effectually, that only means that it is more trouble than the help they give is worth. what is really valuable is the cultivation of the sense that it is a good and pleasant thing to help mother to wash up, to help father to water the geraniums, and, further, a thing which will make father and mother pleased and grateful. children, like the rest of us, love to feel themselves important. is it not well that they should feel themselves important as givers, and not as claimants only? the tale of their public obligations may well begin with the lesson that it is part of the duty of a citizen to help to keep his city, his country, clean and beautiful. therefore, we must not leave nasty traces of our presence in street or meadow--such traces as orange-peel, banana-skins, and the greasy bag that once held the bun or the bull's-eye. and it is quite as important to learn what we should as what we should not do. the idea and organisation of the boy scouts is a fine object-lesson in the way of training children to be good citizens. the duties of a citizen should be taught in all schools: they are more important than the latitude of cathay and the industries of kamskatka. even the smallest children could learn something of this branch of education. i should like to write a little book of moral songs for young citizens, only i wouldn't call it that. the songs in it might take the place of "mary had a little lamb" or whatever it is that they make the infants learn by heart. one of them might go something like this: i must not steal, and i must learn nothing is mine that i do not earn. i must try in work and play to make things beautiful every day. i must be kind to every one and never let cruel things be done. i must be brave, and i must try when i am hurt never to cry, and always laugh as much as i can and be glad that i'm going to be a man, to work for my living and help the rest, and never do less than my very best. another might begin: i must not litter the park or the street with bits of paper or things to eat: i must not pick the public flowers they are not _mine_, but they are _ours_. . . . and so on. simple rhymes learned when you are very young stay with you all your life. the duties and refrainings just touched on here might be elaborated in different poems. there might be one on being brave, and another on prompt obedience to the word of command. there is no position in life where the habit of obedience to your superior officer is not of value. to teach obedience without bullying would be quite easy: with very little children it could take the form of a game, in which a series of orders were given--for the performance of such actions as occur in the mulberry bush; and the competition among the children to be the first to obey the new order would quicken the child's mind and body, while the habit of obedience to the word of command would be firmly planted, so that it would grow with the child's growth and adapt itself to the needs of life. i would write more than one poem, i think, about the green country and the shame it is that those who should love and protect it desecrate it as they do. let it be the pride of the child that he is not of the sort of people who leave greasy papers lying about in woods, broken bottles in meadows, and old sardine tins among the rushes at the margin of cool streams. such people touch no foot of land that they do not desecrate and defile. wherever they are suffered to be, there they leave behind them the vilest leavings. filthy papers, the rinds and skins of fruit, crusts and parings, jagged tins, smashed bottles, straw and shavings and empty stained cardboard boxes. they leave it all, openly and shamelessly, making the magic meadows sordid as a suburb, and carrying into the very heart of the country the vulgarities of the street corner. it is time, indeed, that certain of the finer duties of citizenship were taught in all schools, harrow as well as houndsditch, eton as well as borstal. and one of the first of these is the keeping of the beauty of beautiful places unsmirched, the duty of preserving for others the beauty which we ourselves admire, the duty of burning bits of paper and burying pieces of orange-peel. if there is not time to teach geography as well as the duties and decencies of a citizen, the geography should go, and the duties and decencies be taught. for what is the use of knowing the names of places if you do not know that places should be beautiful, and what is the use of knowing how many counties there are in england unless you know also that every field and every tree and every stream in every one of those counties is a precious gift of god not to be desecrated by shameless refuse and garbage, but to be cared for as one cares for one's garden, and loved, as one should love every inch of our england, this garden-land more beautiful than any garden in the world? a child should be taught to read almost as soon as it has learned to speak. i can remember my fourth birthday, but i cannot remember a time when i could not read. without going into details as to the merits of different methods of teaching, i may say that a good many words may be taught before it is necessary to teach the letters--that reading should precede spelling--that cat should be presented whole, as the symbol of cat--and that the dissection of it into c.a.t. should come later. i believe that children taught in this way, and taught young, will not in after life be tortured by the difficulties of spelling. they will spell naturally, as they speak or walk. of the value of the accomplishment of reading, as a let-off to parents and guardians, it would be impossible to speak too highly. it keeps the child busy, amused, still and quiet. the value to the child himself is not less. nor is it only that the matter of his reading stores his mind with new material. to him also it is a good thing that he should sometimes be still and quiet, and at the same time interested and occupied. of books for little children there are plenty--not fine literature, it is true--but harmless. as the child grows older he will want more books, and different books--and if you insist on personally conducting him on his grand tour through literature he will probably miss a good many places that he would like to go to. for a child from ten onwards it is no bad thing to give the run of a good general library. when he has exhausted the story books he will read the ballads, the histories and the travels, and may even nibble at science, poetry, or philosophy. i myself, at the age of thirteen, browsed contentedly in such a library--where percy's anecdotes in thirty-nine volumes or so divided my attention with hume, locke and berkeley. i even read burton's _anatomy of melancholy_, and was none the worse for it. it is astonishing how little harm comes to children through books. unless they have been taught by servants' chatter how to look for the "harm," they do not find it. i do not mean that absolutely every book is fit for a child's reading, but if you allow the reading of the old testament it is mere imbecility to insist that all the rest of your child's reading shall ignore the facts of life. you can always have a locked book-case if you choose: only see to it that the doors are not of glass, for the forbidden is always the desired. as regards the facts of life, by which i mean the physiological facts about which there is so much needless and vain concealment, there is, it seems to me, only one rule. if your child has learned to love and trust you it will come to you with its questions, instead of going to the housemaid or the groom. answer all its questions truthfully, even at the cost of a little trouble in formulating your answers. do not leave the child to learn the truth about its body and its birth from vulgar and tainted sources. there is absolutely nothing that you cannot decently tell a child when it has reached the age when it understands that certain things are not fit subjects for public conversation--and until it has reached that age it will not ask that sort of questions. there is no difficulty in making children understand that their digestive processes are not to be discussed in general society, and it is quite easy to explain to them that other physiological processes are also to be avoided as subjects for general conversation. the cat and her family will help you to explain all that the child wants to know. the child should be taught that its body is the temple of the holy ghost, and that it is our duty to keep our bodies healthy, clean, and well-exercised, just as we should try to keep our minds strong and active, and our hearts tender and pure. and one need not always "talk down" to children: they understand far better than you think. they are always flattered by talk that rises now and then above the level of their understanding. and if they do not understand they will tell you so, and you can simplify. in talking of the subjects which interest them, you need not be afraid of being too clever. for even if they do not ask, your instinct and the child's eyes will, if there be love and trust between you, tell you when you are getting out of its depth. but there must be love and trust: without that all education outside book-learning is for ever impossible. chapter x the one thing needful the most ardent advocate of our present civilisation, the blindest worshipper of what we call progress, can hardly fail to be aware of the steadily increasing and brutal ugliness of life. civilisation, whatever else it is, is a state in which a few people have the chance of living beautifully--those who take that chance are fewer still--and the enormous majority live, by no choice or will of their own, lives which at the best are uncomfortable, anxious, and lacking in beauty, and at the worst are so ugly, diseased, desperate, and wretched that those who feel their condition most can hardly bear to think of them, and those who have not imagination enough to feel it fully yet cannot bear it unless they succeed in persuading themselves that the poor of this world are the heirs of the next, while hoping, at the same time, that a portion of lazarus's heavenly legacy may, after all, be reserved for dives. the hideous disfigurement of lovely hills and dales with factories and mines and pot banks--coal, cinder, and slag; the defilement of bright rivers with the refuse of oil and dye works; the eating up of the green country by greedy, long, creeping yellow caterpillars of streets; the smoke and fog that veil the sun in heaven; the sordid enamelled iron advertisements that scar the fields of earth--all the torn paper and straw and dirt and disorder spring from one root. and from the same root spring pride, anger, cruelty, and sycophancy, the mean subservience of the poor and the mean arrogance of the rich. as the fair face of the green country is disfigured by all this machinery which ministers to the hope of getting rich, so is the face of man marred by the fear of getting poor. look at the faces you see in the street--old and young, gay and sad--on all there is the brand of anxiety, a terrible anxiety that never rests, a fear that never sleeps, the anxiety for the future: the fear of poverty for the rich, the fear of starvation for the poor. think of the miles and miles of sordid squalor and suffering in the east of london--not in comfortable whitechapel, but out canning town way; think of barking and plaistow and plashet and bow--then think of park lane and bond street. and if your eyes are not blinded, the west is no less terrible than the east. if you want to be sure of this, bring a hungry, ragged child from that eastern land and set it outside a west end restaurant; let it press its dirty little face against the plate glass and gaze at the well-to-do people gorging and guzzling round the bright tables inside. the diners may be smart, the ragged child may be picturesque--but bring the two together, and consider the conjunction. [illustration: the hideous disfigurement.] and all this ugliness springs from the same cause. as ruskin says: "we have forgotten god." we have therefore forgotten his attributes, mercy, loving-kindness, justice, truth, and beauty. their names are still on our lips, but the great, stupid, crashing, blundering machine which we call civilisation knows them not. the devil's gospel of _laissez-faire_ still inspires the calloused heart of man. each for himself, and mammon for the foremost. we no longer care that life should be beautiful for all god's children--we wish it to be beautiful for us and forget who, as we wish that wish, becomes our foster-father. there can be no healing of the great wound in the body of mankind till each one of us would die rather than see the ugliness of a wound on the body of the least of these our brethren. but so dulled and stupefied is our sense of beauty, our sense of brotherhood, that our brother's wounds do not hurt us. we have not imagination enough to know how it feels to be wounded. just as we have not imagination enough to see the green fields that lie crushed where manchester sprawls in the smoke--the fair hills and streams on which has grown the loathsome fungus of stockport. [illustration: of lovely hills and dales.] now i do believe that this insensitiveness to ugliness and misery, this blindness to wanton befouling of human life and the green world, comes less from the corruption of man's heart than from the emptiness of the teaching which man receives when he is good and little and a child. the teaching in our schools is almost wholly materialistic. the child is taught the botanical name of the orange--dissects it and its flower and perhaps learns the latin names of the flower and fruit; but it is not taught that oranges are things you will be pleased with yourself for giving up to some one who is thirstier than you are--or that to throw orange-peel on the pavement where some one may slip on it, fall and hurt himself, is as mean a trick as stealing a penny from a blind man. we teach the children about the wonders of gases and ethers, but we do not explain to them that furnaces ought to consume their own smoke, or why. the children learn of acids and starches, but not that it is a disgraceful thing to adulterate beer and bread. the rules of multiplication and subtraction are taught in schools, but not the old rule, "if any will not work, neither shall he eat." there is no dogmatical teaching. that means a diet of dry bones. it means that the child is never shown how to look for happiness in the performance of acts which do not, on the face of them, look as though they would make him happy. it is not explained to him that man's life and the will of god are like a poem--god writes a line and man must make the next line rhyme to it. when it does rhyme, then you get that happiness which can only come from harmony. and when you do your best to make your line rhyme and cannot--well, the author of the first line knows that it was your best that you did. god is shown, when he is shown at all, to our modern children, as a sort of glorified head master, who will be tremendously down on you if you break the rules: alternatively as a sort of rich uncle who will give you things if you ask properly. he is not shown as the father to whom you can tell everything. if you are successful in your work you win a prize and go home to your people, and tell them that you are first in history, receiving their applause without shame. if you are good at games or athletics you can tell your mates that you made two goals or eighty-three runs or whatever it is, and delight in their admiration. if you are an athlete the applause of the bystanders is your right and your reward. but whom can you tell of the little intimate triumphs, the secret successes, the temptations resisted, the kind things done, the gentle refrainings, the noble darings of that struggling, bewildered, storm-tossed little thing you call your soul? god, your father, is the only person to whom you can talk of these. to him you can say: "father, i wanted to pay smith minor out to-day for something he did last week, and i didn't because i thought you wouldn't like it. are you pleased with your boy?" do they teach you this in schools or give you any hint or hope of what you will feel when your father answers: "yes, my son, i am pleased." or do they teach you to say: "father, i am sorry i was a beast to-day, and i'll try not to do it again"--and tell you that a voice will answer, "i am sorry too, my son--but i am glad you told me. try again, dear lad. and let me help you"? as you show your latin exes. to your master, so you should be taught to show the leaves of your life to the only one who can read and understand that blotted record. and if you learn to show that book every day there will be less and less in it that you mind showing, and more and more that will give you the glow and glory of the heart that comes to him who hears "faithful and good, well done." you cannot suppose that your life is rhyming with the will of god when you destroy the beauty of the country and of the lives of men so that you may get rich and you and your children may live without working. can you imagine a company promoter who should say: "father, i have made a lot of money out of a company which has gone to pieces, and a lot of other people are ruined, but i know that there must always be rich and poor, and if i didn't do it some one else would"? or--"father, i spoiled the green fields where children used to play and i have built a lot of streets of hideous and uncomfortable houses, but they are quite good enough for the working people. as long as they have such low wages they can't live like human beings. and thou knowest, o father, that wages are and must be regulated by the divine law of supply and demand." or--"father, i have put sand in the sugar and poison in the beer, alum in the bread and water in the milk, all these being, as thou knowest, father, long-established trade customs." men can say these things to themselves and to each other, but there is one to whom they cannot say them. it is of him and not only of the wonders of his universe that i would have the children taught. but they are only taught of the wonders, not of the wonder-worker. it is not that there are none who could teach, no initiates of the great and simple mysteries, no keepers of the faith. there are such, but they are muzzled, and the detestable horrors of civilisation go on in a community which calls itself after the name of christ. and so long as we have in our schools this materialistic teaching, so long shall we raise up generation after generation to support that civilisation and to keep it the damnable thing we know. talk goes on and goes on and goes on. there is talk now of a great measure for the reform of national education, much talk--there will be more. there will be much ink spilt, much breath wasted; we shall hear of montessori and froebel and pestalozzi, of science and the classics, of opportunities of ladders of scholarships and prizes and endowments. we shall hear how hard it is that the sons of the plumber should not be able to go to oxford and how desirable it is that daughters of the dustman should sometimes take the prix de rome. we shall be told how important are the telescope and the microscope, and how right it is that children should know all about their little insides. the one thing we shall not hear about will be the one thing needful. a tottering government may keep itself in power by such a measure, a defeated party may, by it, bring itself back to office, but such a measure will not keep the nation from perdition, nor bring back the soul of a man into the true way. we may build up as we will schemes of education and instruction, add science to science, learning to learning, and facts to facts; but what we shall build will be only a dead body unless it be informed by the breath of the spirit which maketh alive. for education which teaches a man everything but how to live to the glory of god and the service of man is not education, but only instruction; and it is the fruit of the tree, not of life, but of death. _part ii_ chapter i romance in games a sharp distinction can be drawn between games with toys and games without them. in the latter the child's imagination has to supply everything, in the former it supplements or corrects the suggestion of the toy. but in both, as in every movement and desire of the natural child, it is imagination which tints the picture and makes the whole enterprise worth while. in hide-and-seek, that oldest of games, and still more in its sister "i spy," a little live streak of fear brought down from who knows what wild ancestry lends to the game an excitement not to be found in games with bats and balls and nets and bails and straightforward trappings bought at shops. when you lurk in the shrubbery ready to spring out on the one who is hunting you, and to become in your turn the hunter, you are no longer a child, you are a red indian or a canadian settler, or a tiger or a black-fellow, according to the measure of your dreams and the nature of the latest book of your reading. at this point it occurs to me that perhaps you who read may have forgotten the difference between "hide-and-seek" and "i spy." hide-and-seek is just what it says it is; half the players hide, and the others seek them and there's an end of it. it is an interesting game, but flat compared with "i spy." it has, however, this merit, that it can be played without those screams to which grown-ups are, usually, so averse. whereas i defy any one to play "i spy" without screaming. hide-and-seek is a calm game; the thing sought for might almost as well be an inanimate object: it is the game of stoats looking for pheasants' eggs, of bears looking for honey. but "i spy" is the game of enemy looking for enemy: it calls for the virtues of fortitude, endurance, courage--for the splendours of physical fitness, for aptness, for speed. in "i spy" half the players hide and the others seek; but they seek not an unresisting stationary object, but a keen, watchful retaliatory terror. they seek, in shrubbery and garden, behind summer-house and conservatory, in the shelter of tree, hedge, and arbour, for the enemy, and when that enemy is found the seeker does not just say, "oh, here you are"--that ending the game. far otherwise; the seeker in "i spy" goes warily, his heart in his mouth--for, the moment he sees a hider, he must shout "i spy," adding the hider's name. "i spy jimmy!" he cries, and turning, flees at his best speed. the hidden one follows after--the hunted becoming in one swift terrible transition the hunter, and he who was the seeker flies with all the speed he may, across country, to the appointed "home." the quarry unearthed has become the pursuer and follows with yells. grown-ups would always rather that you played hide-and-seek--and can you wonder? but sometimes they will concede to you "i spy" rights, and even join in the sport. it is always well, in playing any game where anything may be trampled, such as asparagus beds, or broken, such as windows, to have a grown-up or two on your side. and by "your," here, of course i mean children. the habit of years is not easily broken, and i am so much more used to writing _for_ children than _of_ them. chevy chase is a good old-fashioned game of courage and adventure. does any one play it now? no child can play it _con amore_ who does not know who it was who when his legs were smitten off he fought upon his stumps, and to what bold heart the bitterest drop in the cup of defeat was "earl percy sees my face----" all wreathed with romance are the song-games, "nuts in may," "there came three knights," and the rest, where the up-and-down dancing movement and the song of marriage-by-capture ends in a hard jolly tug-of-war, and woe to the vanquished! this is a very old game--and there are many words to it. one set i know, but i never have known the end. little boys in light trousers and short jackets and little girls in narrow frilled gowns used to play it on the village green a hundred years ago. this is how it began: up and down the green grass this and that and thus, come along, my pretty maid, and take a walk with us; you shall have a duck, my dear, and you shall have a drake, and you shall have a handsome man, for your father's sake. my mother told me all of that song-game, and that is all of it that i can remember. she always said she would write it down, and i always thought there was plenty of time, and somehow there was not, and so i do not know the end. perhaps mr. charles marson, who first found out the somerset folk-songs of which mr. somebody else now so mysteriously gets all the credit, may know the end of these verses. if he does, and if he sees this, perhaps he will write and tell me. this game of come and go and give and take is alive in france; witness the old song: qu'est-ce qui passe ici si tard, compagnons de la marjolaine? qu'est-ce qui passe ici si tard toujours si gai? ce sont les cavaliers du roi, compagnons de la marjolaine. ce sont les cavaliers du roi toujours si gais. et que veulent ces cavaliers, compagnons de la marjolaine? et que veulent ces cavaliers toujours si gais? des jeunes filles à marier, compagnons de la marjolaine; des jeunes filles à marier, toujours si gais. and i have no doubt that stout dutch children and german children with flaxen plaits, and small contadine, and spanish and swedish and russian and lithuanian babes all move rhythmically back and forth on their native greensward and rehearse the old story of the fair maid and the knight "out to marry." the mulberry bush is another of the old song-games, where play-acting is the soul of the adventure, and this too is everywhere. "a la claire fontaine," i remember as the french version, danced on wet days in the cloisters of the convent of my youth. le pont d'avignon, a glorious game, with its impersonations of animals, has, as far as i know, no counterpart in this country. all these games are active games: they can, of course, be played by sheer imitation, a sort of parrot-and-monkey aptitude will do it; but if they are to be enjoyed to the full, the imagination must have full play. to _be_ a knight a-riding to fetch a fair lady is quite simple, and quite thrilling--just as to be a bear demands nothing but growls and a plantigrade activity in the performer to be a fearful joy to the non-bear. cricket and football, fives and racquets, the games that are played with things out of shops, do not need imagination to help them out. the games without bought accessories should perhaps rather be termed "plays" than games. and the more highly cultivated the imagination the more intensely joyous are the games. all sorts of acting, dressing-up, and pretending games depend entirely on the imagination, and it is well to encourage children to act scenes which they have observed, or heard about or read about. the smallest child will experience a real joy in putting its pinafore on wrong way round, call it a coat, and announce with pride that it is "daddy going a tata." in the dolls' tea-parties you will observe a careful copy or travesty of your own "company manners," and as the small minds are filled with tales of wonder and adventure, you will find them re-enacted, the nursery rocking chair serving as charger for the gallant knight, and nurse's hassock taking quite adequately the part of the dragon. a small sister can generally be relied on to be the captive princess, especially if handsome trappings go with the part--and a cobweb brush is an admirable spear. the princess will be released from her bonds in time to act as chief mourner at the funeral of the slain hassock, which can be carried down the river in a barge made of the nursery table wrong way up--with the nursery tablecloth for a sail--an admirable tableau certain to occur if any one has told the children the story of elaine. that the dragon should have as sumptuous a funeral as enoch arden himself, need not surprise you: a funeral is a funeral, be the corpse canary, guinea pig, or hassock, and to a dead dragon are due all the honours we pay to a gallant if unfortunate antagonist. not only fairy tales, but history will be acted. you will have jane as queen eleanor sucking the poison from jack's grubby paws, and alice as an arab physician curing the plague, represented by blobs of paint-water on the rigid arms of robert. how beloved will be the grown-up who, passing by the scene, shall refrain from commenting on the deafening groans of the patient, and shall, instead, offer the physician a ribbon for his girdle or a plume from the dusting brush for his turban. exploring plays and all the plays which include wigwams and war paint are such as an intelligent grown-up will be able to intensify and add backbone to--for a child's fancy will naturally outrun his performance, and though he may imagine a feather head-dress or moccasins, he will be only too pleased that a grown-up should make the things for him with that strong, unerring touch to which his small experimenting hands cannot yet attain. all such games require numbers; your only lonely child cannot play indians to the full. two is better than one and more than two is better than two, up to the number of six or eight. people don't seem to see how important numbers are for play. they see it fast enough when it comes to schools, but a regular association of children for the purposes of play is not encouraged. in a large family of boys and girls it just happens happily, but an association of children from various homes generally means a predatory horde of boys: girls don't associate with unrelated girls in joyous play-adventures, and boys are apt to think that little girls who are not their sisters are either angels or muffs, and neither a muff nor an angel is what you want to play games with. parents and guardians might do a great deal to render play-association possible: i suggest that house parties of children, where the utmost possible liberty should be given, would stimulate enormously the plays which encourage daring and initiative, and would teach boys that girls are not necessarily muffs or angels, and teach girls that boys are not all brutes. fathers and mothers sacrifice themselves every year in august; you see them doing it, heavily, definitely, with clenched teeth and a grim determination not to be selfish, and to spend a month with the children at the seaside, however much it may cost in time, temper, and money. the browns go to scarborough, their friends the robinsons go to wales, the smiths are in devonshire and the joneses at littlehampton. they all go to the same sort of lodgings, do the same sort of things, and lucky is the mother whose nerves are not worn very thin indeed before the holiday ends. now suppose all these worthy and self-sacrificing parents agreed to pool their families and let mr. and mrs. brown take charge of them all--in some jolly big house suited to the needs of so swollen a household. sixteen children are really, in many ways, four times easier to manage than four--and at least forty times as easy to amuse. in fact, you don't need to amuse them--they will amuse themselves and each other: mr. and mrs. brown will only have to adjust ebullitions. meanwhile the smiths, robinsons, and joneses are having their holiday where they will. their turn of having the children will come another year, when the browns will be free to range the world in august, knowing that their children are safe and happy and are, thank you, having a much better time than they could have in small seaside lodgings, even with the undivided attention of their fathers and mothers. besides, if i may for once take the part of the mothers instead of that of the children, what sort of holiday do you think the mother has, when to the ordinary routine of housekeeping at home are added the difficulties of housekeeping in unfamiliar surroundings, in a house of whose capabilities she has no experience, and with a landlady whose temper, as often as not, is as short as her tale of extras is long? the woman who works all the year round at the incredibly arduous task of making a home, answering week in and week out the constant, varying demands on all her complex mental and physical activities, does really deserve a real holiday. what is more, she needs it. she will be a better mother the rest of the year if she be allowed for that one month to be just a wife, and a wife on a holiday. the wife whose turn it is to take charge of the amalgamated families will find so great a change from the exclusive care of her own chickens that the change in itself will be a sort of holiday. and the children themselves, perhaps, will learn a little from the enforced separation from the fount of unselfish devotion, and appreciate their mother all the more if they have, be it only half-consciously, missed her a little even through the varied and joyous experiences of their month's house-party. chapter ii building cities the devotion of aunts has often stirred my admiration. the heroism of aunts deserves an epic. but this is, as you say, not the place to write that epic. give me leave, however, to say that of all the heroic acts of the devoted aunt, none seems to me more magnificent than the self-sacrifice which nerves those delightful ladies to settle themselves down to play, in cold blood, with their nephews and nieces games bought at a shop, games in boxes. i am not talking of croquet, or even badminton, though these may be, and are, bought in boxes at shops. nor do i wish to depreciate chess and draughts, nor even halma, the poor relation of draughts and chess, nor dominoes, which we all love. these games, so precious on wet days, or when other people have headaches, cannot be too highly prized, too assiduously cultivated. the rigours of the seaside holiday, too often in wet weather a time of trial and temper, would be considerably mitigated if chess and chess-board, draughts, dominoes, and halma were packed in the trunks along with the serge suits, the sandshoes, and the sun-bonnets. the games which i do so 'wonder and admire' to see aunts playing are the meaningless games with counters and dice: ill-balanced dice and roughly turned counters and boards that look like folding chequer-boards till you open them, and then you find all the ugliest colours divided into squares and circles or slabs, with snakes or motors or some other unpleasing devices on them. these games are all exactly the same in their primary qualities: the first of them that was invented had all the faults of all its successors. yet dozens of new ones are invented every year, just to sell, and helpless children try to play them, knowing no better, and angel aunts abet them, knowing all. grown-ups suffer a great deal in playing with children: it is not the least charm of a magic city that a grown-up can play it and suffer nothing worse than the fatigue incidental to the bricklayer's calling. of course, most grown-ups will say that they would rather be burnt at a slow fire, or play halma, than be bothered with magic cities. but that is only because they do not understand. try the experiment the next time you are spending a wet week-end in a country house where there are children. get the children to yourself and ask your hostess whether you may borrow what you want for a game. the library is the best place for building: there is almost certainly a large and steady table: also there are the books. i need not urge you to spare the elegantly bound volumes, and the prized first editions, and the priceless folios and duodecimos in their original calf and vellum. you will find plenty of books that nobody will mind your using--the old _whitakers_, bound volumes of the _cornhill_ and _temple bar_--good solid blocks for the foundations of your city. if there be a pair of candlesticks or an inkstand which match, you may make a magnificent archway by setting up the candlesticks as pillars and laying the inkstand on the top. you can see how this is done in the picture of the elephant temple. get the children to bring down the bricks and enlist a friendly parlour-maid to let you have the run of the china cupboard, or a footman, if you are in that sort of house, to bring you the things you want on a tray. [illustration: the palace of cats. ] but it is much better if you can go alone over the house and choose what you really want. you invite the children to help you build, and to build themselves. if they have never built a magic city you will find that they will presently desert their plain brick edifices to watch the development of your palace or temple. they will offer suggestions, and quite soon they will offer objects. they will begin to look about the room with their sharp eyes--and about the house with their keen memory and imagination, and produce the sort of things that look like the sort of things they think you might like for your building. they will wander off, returning with needle-cases, little boxes, shells--and "would this do for something?" is the word on every lip. they are soon as much absorbed in the building as you are--and i take it you are an enthusiast--and your magic city grows apace. then after a little while a grown-up, bored and out of employment, will stray into the library with "hullo! what are you kids up to with all this rubbish?" and stand with his hands in his pockets contemplating the building industry. if you answer him simply and kindly, and don't resent his choice of epithet, it is almost certain he will quite soon withdraw a hand from his pocket and reach out to touch your magic walls with "wouldn't it be better like that?" admit it, and in hardly any time at all you have him building on his own account. another grown-up will stray in presently with the same question on his lips. he too will come to be bored and will remain to build, and by tea-time you will have collected every grown-up of the house-party--every grown-up, that is to say, with the right feeling for cities. it will surprise you to find how keen you will yourself become as the work goes on, and how it will call into play all your invention and your latent craftsmanship. you will be amazed at the results you can achieve with quite dull-looking materials, and still more will you be surprised at the increasing interest and skill of the grown-ups. when it is time to dress for dinner you will feel a pang of positive despair at the thought that your beautiful city, the child of your dreams and skill, must be taken down. it is like the end of the magic of cinderella when her coach became a pumpkin, her horses mice and her coachman a fat rat. now your domes are once more mere basins, your fountain basins are ash-trays, your fountains are but silver pen-cases and their gleaming waters only strips of the tin-foil that comes off chocolate or cigarettes. the walls of your palaces go back into the book-cases, and their façades return to the dull obscurity of the brick-boxes. the doors and the animals who stood on guard at the door-ways and terraces, on plinths or pillars, share in the dark rattling seclusion where many a wooden tail has been broken, many a painted ear lost for ever, but the tidying up has to be done: unless your hostess is one of those rare and delightful people who see what their guests like and lets them do it. in that case she may say "oh! what a pity to disturb the pretty thing! why not let your city stay for a day or two, so that the children can build some more to it to-morrow. no, of course it won't be in the way--and wouldn't it be pretty if we lighted it up with fairy lights after dark?" then your city really has a chance. the children will think of it till bed-time and fall asleep in the happy throes of their first town-planning. you may think that i exaggerate the charms of magic cities, because i happened to invent them, and you may be afraid that my swan, if you ever make up your mind to adopt it, may turn out to be an ugly and dispiriting duckling. i assure you this is not so. i have never met a child who did not like building magic cities, and not many grown-ups. of course the love of them grows, like other loves, and the longer you can keep the city standing, the fonder you and your playmates will get of it. it will grow more and more finished in detail, and the ugly make-shifts will be reorganised and made neat with an irreproachable neatness. if the magic city game were played in schools, as i think it ought to be, a long table--or series of tables--could easily be kept for it, and the city kept standing and be added to from day to day. but it will not be the same sort of city as the one you build in the house where the parlour-maid lives and still less the sort that happens in the house where there is a butler and many silver boxes and cups and candlesticks. now i come to write all this down it seems very trivial, and it will perhaps seem even more so when i come to tell you about the different things we made and used for magic cities. but it is not really trivial. i do not think i claim for the magic city game more than it justifies, and i will tell you, presently, why i think this. of course, when you have finished your city, if you ever do finish it, you make up stories about it, and always, even when you are building it, you imagine how splendid it would be if you were small enough to walk through the arches of your city gates, to run along the little corridors of your city palaces. of course, it would do quite as well if your city became big enough for you to run about in while still keeping your natural size--but it is somehow not really so cosy to think of. when i had built my first three or four magic cities this idea of getting into the city--being, of course, correct citizen-size--lived with me so much that i wrote a story-book about it called _the magic city_,[a] in which a boy and girl do really become the right size and enter into the city they have built. they have there all the adventures whose wraiths danced before me when i was building courts and making palm trees and finding out the many fine and fair uses of cowries and fir-cones. this book, _the magic city_, produced a curious effect. i hope i shall not look conceited (because really i am only proud) when i say that about my books i have had the dearest letters from children, saying pretty things about the stories in the prettiest way. it is one of the most heart-warming things in the world to get these letters and to answer them. and if i had letters like these i should have been only pleased and not disturbed. but the letters about the magic city, though they were full of the pretty, awkward, delicious things that children write to the author of the books they like, held something else--a demand, severe and almost unanimous, to know how magic cities were built, and whether "children like us" could build one, and, if so, how? i got so many of these letters that i decided to build a magic city where any child, in london at any rate, could come and see it. and i built it at the children's welfare exhibition which the _daily news_ arranged last year at olympia. the history of that building would make a largish and intimate volume. the difficulties that beset a home-dweller when she goes out into the world, the anguish of misunderstandings which arise between the builder of magic cities and the people who lay linoleum and put up electric lights, the confusion which results from having packed in boxes and all mixed up the building materials which you are accustomed to look for as you need them in your own home, the extraordinary mass of people, the extraordinary kindness of people; for after all, it is the kindness which stands out. it is true that the gentleman who, very much isolated, fixed the electric lights, behaved exactly like an earthquake, upsetting two temples, a palace, and a tank with an educated seal in it. but then how more than a brother was the man who did the whitewash! it is true that the dictator with the linoleum--but i will not remember these things. let me remember how many good friends i found among the keepers of the stalls, how a great personage of the _daily news_ came with his wife at the last despairing moment, and lent me the golden and ruby lamps from their dining-table, how the boy scouts "put themselves in four" to get me some cocoa-nuts for roofs of cottages, how their scout master gave me fourteen beautiful little ivory fishes with black eyes, to put in my silver paper ponds, how the basket-makers on the one side and the home hobbies on the other were to me as brothers, how the cherry blossom boot polish lady gave me hairpins and the wardens of messrs. w. h. smith's bookstall gave me friendship, how the gifted boy-sculptor for the plasticine stall, moved by sheer loving-kindness, rushed over one day and dumped a gorgeous prehistoric beast, modelled by his own hands, in the sands about my siberian tomb, how the queen of portugal came and talked to me for half an hour in the most flattering french, while the deity from the _daily news_ looked on benign. these are things i can never forget. when the show opened i was feeling like a snail who has inadvertently come out without his shell. think how all this kindness comforted and protected me. and then came the long stream of visitors--crowds of them--i don't know how many thousands, who came and looked at my magic city and asked questions, and looked and looked at it, looked and said things. it is because of what they said that i am writing about that show at all. they all liked the city except two, and i cannot think that those two were, in other respects, really nice people. and more than half of them asked whether i would not write a book about the magic city which i had built there, and which lay looking so real and romantic under the soft glow of the tinted lamps: not a story-book, but a book to tell other people how to make such cities. and i said i would tell all i knew in a book. and when i came to write i found that there were many other things that i wanted to write about children, and other things than magic cities, and i wrote them, and this is the book. and the reason i am telling you all this is that my big magic city at olympia showed me, more than anything else could have done, that the building of magic cities interests practically every one, young or old. it is very difficult to say all this and yet not to feel that you will think that i am boasting about my magic city. but i want you to believe that it was very beautiful, and that you can build one just as beautiful or much more beautiful if you care to try it. it is such an easy game. every one can play it. and every one likes it--even quite old people. by the way, i have been asked to build another city at olympia in april, and i hope that it will be a prettier one even than the other which i loved so. footnote: [a] macmillans. chapter iii bricks--and other things it is a mistake when you are going to build a city to make too large a collection of building materials before you begin to build. if it is natural to you to express yourself by pencil lines on paper you might perhaps draw an outline of the masses of your city as you see them in the architect's vision or illumination which should precede all building, either of magic cities or municipal cab-shelters. having roughly indicated on paper the general shape of your city as you look at it from the front--the shape it would have against the western sky at dusk (i think architects call this the elevation, don't they?)--you proceed to collect such material as will roughly indicate that shape on the table or other building-place. and here let me once more warn the builder new to his business not to be trapped by the splendid obvious bait of floor's wide space. to build palaces while prone on the stomach may be natural and easy to extreme youth. to grown-up people it is agonising and impossible. the floor has only two qualifications as a building site. it is large--larger at least than any of the pieces of furniture which stand on it--and it is flat. and when you have said that you have said all. whereas the inconveniences of the floor as a place for building are innumerable. the floor is draughty, it is inaccessible, except from the attitude of the serpent, and the serpent's attitude, even if rich in a certain lax comfort, is most unfavourable for the steady use of both hands. if you want to see how unfavourable assume that attitude and try to build a card-house on the floor. you cannot do it. if you kneel--well, you know how hard the floor gets if you kneel on it for quite a little time; if you sit or squat your dress or your coat-tails insist on playing at earthquakes with your building. also the city on the floor is liable to hostile invasion by cats or dogs or servants: to the crushing and scattering by short-sighted outsiders or people who rush into the room to look for something in a hurry. think of a playful elephant in some eastern court of carved pearl and ivory lattice; an elephant co-inciding with one of the more fanciful volcanic eruptions, and your conception will pale into placidity in the face of the spectacle of a normal puppy in a floor-built city. and on the floor things not only get broken, they get lost. cotton reels roll under sofas, draughts bowl away into obscurity and are only found next day by the housemaid when she moves the fender, and not then, as often as not; chess kings are walked on and get their crowns chipped; card counters disappear for ever, and it is quite impossible for you to keep an eye on your materials when you are grovelling among them. therefore build on a table--or tables. tables of different shapes, heights, and sizes make beautiful sites for cities. and bureaux are good, if you may take the drawers out and empty the pigeon-holes. i remember a wonderful city we made once: it was called the "city of the thousand lights," and it was built on a bureau, two large tables and three other smaller ones, all connected by bridges in the handsomest way. (the lids of the brick boxes make excellent bridges and you can adorn them to your fancy, and make impressive gate-houses at each end.) the bureau was the temple of mung, and we sacrificed a pale pink animal from the noah's ark at the shrine of this, the most mysterious of the gods of pegana. the thousand lights--there were not a thousand, really, but there were many luminous towers, with windows of a still brighter glow. you make them by putting a night-light in a tumbler--a little water first by way of fire insurance--and surrounding the tumbler by a sheet of paper with windows and battlements and fixed to a cylindrical shape by pins. the paper cylinders are, of course, fitted on outside the tumblers so that there is no danger of fire. all the same it is better to let a grown-up do the luminous towers. [illustration: guarded arch.] having chosen your site and blocked out the mass of your buildings, you begin to collect the building material. for my own part i see the city i am going to build in the eye of the mind--or of the heart--so vividly and consistently that i never need to make notes of it on paper. i know when what i am building is not in accord with the vision, and then i pull it down. truly in accord it never really is, but it approximates. now when you have seen the silhouette of your city and begin to look for stuff to build with, you will instantly find that everything you can lay your hands on is too small. the bricks, even the boxes which contained them, are suited for the detailed building which is to come later, but now you want something at once bigger and less conventionally proportioned. now is the time to look for boxes--not the carved sandal-wood boxes in which aunts keep their pins, nor the smooth cedarwood boxes in which uncles buy their cigars, though both these are excellent when you come to the details of your work, but for the mass you want real big boxes; if you have a large table, or tables, tate's sugar boxes are not too large. also there are the boxes in which starch is packed, and cocoa, and the flatter boxes which the lady at the sweet-shop will give you if she likes you, and sell to you for a penny anyhow. the boxes in which your father gets his collars, and the boxes in which your mother gets her chocolates, though not really large, should be collected at the same time, because they need the same treatment. i am assuming now that you are not building a city for an afternoon's amusement, but one for which you have found a safe resting place--a city that may take days to build and will not be disturbed for days. if you can once found your city in a safe place, and you are working at it day after day, you will go on thinking of more and more things to be added to it, and it will grow in beauty under your hands as naturally as a flower under the hand of summer. [illustration: boxes.] you have now your collection of boxes--but they are of plain, rough wood, and probably disfigured by coarse coloured printed papers telling what the boxes once held. these papers you wash off, and when the boxes are clean and dry, you paint or colour-wash them to suit your requirements. now your requirements are large blocks of colours to match your bricks, and bricks are of three colours--white, terra-cotta, and stone colour. the stone bricks are stone colour and terra-cotta--oak bricks are very nearly stone colour--and there are white-wood bricks. to these three i would add a dark brown; and as this dark brown is not sold in boxes at the shops, you had better colour some of your bricks with it for yourself. dark wood in a city gives a wonderful richness and helps the lighter colours more than you would think possible. a city in which some buildings are of dark wood will have an air of reality never achieved by a city where all is red or white or stone colour. by the way, among the stone bricks there are some blue ones, but you will always have enough of them, for they are the last things you will ever want to use. your boxes then must be coloured either white, red, stone colour, or dark brown. in the white use either white paint--flat, not shining, or if that cost too much trouble and money, whitewash made of whitening, size, hot water and a pinch of yellow ochre or chrome powder to give it a pleasant ivory creaminess. there should be a good deal of size so that the whitewash does not come off on every thing. the red boxes can be painted to match the red bricks, or colour-washed (whitewash as before, but red ochre for colour). stone colour is not a very satisfactory tint and too much of it makes for gloom. the lids and bottoms of the brick boxes will generally give you as much of it as you want. but if you desire stone colour you can make it by putting a pinch of raw umber in the whitewash. or you can paint your boxes with this uninteresting tint--resembling the doors of back kitchens. with these paints or colour-washes you can make your odd many-shaped boxes into smooth-surfaced blocks to match your bricks: and not only wooden, but cardboard boxes can be treated in this way. all these colours can be bought in gigantic penn'orths at the oil-shops. but when i come to the dark brown, which i confess is my favourite colour, no cardboard box will serve your turn. you must choose clean, smooth wood, because the brown colouring is transparent, and the grain will show through. your bricks will be smooth enough, and if the boxes are not smooth a little sand-paper will soon subdue their rough exterior. i suppose you know how to use sand-paper? if you just rub with your fingers you hurt your fingers and don't make much progress; the best way is to wrap the sand-paper round a flat piece of wood--a wooden brick will do--and rub with that. when your wood is all smooth you mix your stain. and here i make a present to all housewives of the best floor stain in the world. get a tin of brunswick black--the kind you put on stoves--and some turpentine. mix a little of the black and a little of the turpentine in a pot and try it on the wood with a smooth brush--a flat brush is the best--till you have the colour you want, always remembering that it will be a little lighter when it is dry. when you have decided on the colour, paint your bricks and boxes on five out of their six sides lightly and smoothly, keeping to the grain of the wood, and not going over the same surface twice if you can help it. this is why a flat brush is the best: it will go right down the side of a brick and colour it at one sweep. then stand each brick up on end to dry. when it is dry you can paint the under bit on which it has been standing. while you have stains and colours going it is well to colour some of your arches, and also such things as cotton-reels, and the little wooden pill-boxes that you get at the chemist's. before colouring these boxes fill them with sand or stones and stick the lids on with glue. otherwise they will not be heavy enough to build with happily. this painting or colouring should be done out of doors, or in an out-house, if possible. if you have to do it in the house spread several thicknesses of newspaper before you begin, and make a calm resting place for your painted things where they can dry at leisure and not be scarred with the finger-marks of her who "clears away." the earnest builder will keep a watchful eye on any carpentering that may go on in the house, and annex the smaller blocks of wood cut off the end of things, which, to an alien eye, are so much rubbish, but which are to the builder stores of price. if there are a few shillings to spare, the carpenter will, for those few shillings, cut you certain shapes which you cannot buy in shops--arches of a comfortable thickness and of satisfying curves, and slabs of board for building steps. these should be of varying lengths and thicknesses and made in sets of twelve steps, with two boards to each step, twenty-four slabs to a set. the biggest might be in. thick and the bottom and largest slabs by in., lessening to by in. the next set might be ¾ in., and of corresponding proportions, then ½ in., then ¼ in. the two basic slabs of the ¾ in. would be by ½ in., and those of the ½ in. would be by in. a set with ¼ in. steps (the basic slabs by ½ in.) would complete the set. flights of steps of many varying heights and sizes could be built with these slabs. ask the carpenter--if the shillings are forthcoming--to save for you the curved pieces of wood which come out of the arches. they are very useful for the bases of pillars, for towers and for the pedestals of statues or vases. some of the arches, steps, and blocks should be coloured to match the red, white, and brown bricks. [illustration: arches and pillars.] some of the boxes, particularly the larger ones, should have doorways sawn in them on opposite sides--it is pleasant to look _through_ a building and see the light beyond; and if you are a thorough builder you can make a pillared interior which will delight the eyes of those who stoop down and peer through the doorway. a few narrow, oblong windows, high up, will also be useful. you need not show them unless you wish: you can always conceal them by a façade of bricks. [illustration: pillared court.] another pleasant use of a big box is to cut out the top and sides and make a columned court of it, which, when cream-washed, dignifies your city with almost all the glory that was greece and the grandeur that was rome. the columns are cut from broom-handles--twopence each at the oil-shop, or, in the case of smaller boxes, from those nice round smooth wooden sticks which cost a penny and are used in ordinary life to thread window-blinds on. if you are going to make a city which is to stand for some time, a little thin glue is a good help to stability. if it is only a here-to-day-and-gone-to-morrow city, plasticine is good--the least touch of it seeming to make things safe which otherwise might totter to their ruin. but except as mortar plasticine should be shunned. it is not good as a building material. having now your bricks, boxes, arches, steps, and rounds, you may begin to block out your building. quite soon you will begin to find that everything is too rectilinear. even the arches and the rounds and the pillars and the pill-boxes cannot satisfy your desire for curves. this is the moment when you will begin to look about you for domes. and the domes, on the instant of their imposition in your building, will call out for minarets. it is then that you will wander about the house seeking eagerly for things that are like other things. your search will be magnificently successful, if only the lady of the house has given you a free hand, and you have been so fortunate as to secure the sympathies of the kitchen queen. chapter iv the magic city the only magic in the city is the magic of imagination, which is, after all, the best magic in the world. the idea of it came to me when i was dissatisfied with the materials provided for children to build with, and i think it must be a really true idea, because wherever i have applied it, it has worked, and that, i am told, is in accordance with the philosophy of pragmatism and a characteristic of all great discoveries. you may build magic cities in homes of modest comfort, using all the pretty things you can lay your hands on. you may build them in the mansions of the rich, if the rich are nice people and love cities, and if the butler will let you have the silver candlesticks for pillars, and the silver-gilt rose-bowls for domes; and you could build one in the houses of the very poor, if the very poor had any space for building--build them there and not use a single thing that could not be begged or borrowed by an intelligent child, no matter how poor. children love to build. i still think with fond affection, and i am afraid speak with tiresome repetition, of those big oak bricks which we had when we were children. they disappeared when we left the old london house where i was born. it was in kennington, that house--and it had a big garden and a meadow and a cottage and a laundry, stables and cow-house and pig-styes, elm-trees and vines, tiger lilies and flags in the garden, and chrysanthemums that smelt like earth and hyacinths that smelt like heaven. our nursery was at the top of the house, a big room with a pillar in the middle to support the roof. "the post," we called it: it was excellent for playing mulberry bush, or for being martyrs at. the skipping rope did to bind the martyrs to the stake. when we left that house we went to brighton, where there was a small and gritty garden, where nothing grew but geraniums and calceolarias. and we did not have our bricks any more. perhaps they were too heavy to move. perhaps the brighton house was too small for the chest. i think i must have clamoured for the old bricks, for i remember very well the advent of a small box of deal bricks made in germany, which had indeed two arches and four pillars, and a square of glass framed in wood daubed with heavy, ugly body colour, and called a window. but you could not build with those bricks. so there was no building at brighton except on the beach. sand is as good as anything in the world to build with--but there is no sand on the beach at brighton, only sandiness. there are stones--pebbles you call them, but they are too round to be piled up into buildings. the only thing you can play with them is dolls' dinner parties. there are plenty of oyster shells and flat bits of slate and tile for dishes and plates--and it is quite easy to find stones the proper shape and colour for boiled fowls and hams and roast legs of mutton, german sausages, ribs of beef, mince pies, pork pies, roast hare or calf's head. but building is impossible. in the courtyard of our house in france there was an out-house with a sloping roof and a flat parapet about four feet high. we used to build little clay huts along this, and roof them with slates, leaving a hole for a chimney. the huts had holes for windows and doors, and we used to collect bits of candle and put them in our huts after dark and enjoy the lovely spectacle of our illuminated buildings till some one remembered us and caught us, and sent us to bed. that was the curse of our hut-building--the very splendour of the result attracted the attention one most wished to avoid. but clay was our only building material, and after the big bricks were lost i never had any more bricks till i had children of my own who had bricks of their own. and then i played with them and theirs. and even then i never thought of building magic cities till the indian soldiers came. they were very fine soldiers with turbans and swords and eyes that gleamed in quite a lifelike way, riding on horses of a violently active appearance: they came to my little son when he was getting well after measles or some such sorrow, and he wanted a fort built for them. so we rattled all the bricks out of their boxes on to the long cutting-out table in the work-room and began to build. but do what we would our fort would not look like a fort--at any rate not like an eastern fort. we pulled it down and tried again, and then again, but no: regardless of our patient energy our fort quietly but persistently refused to look like anything but a factory--a building wholly unworthy of those military heroes with the prancing steeds and the coloured turbans, and the eyes with so much white in them. so then i wondered what was needed to give a hint of the gorgeous east to the fort, and i perceived that what was wanted was a dome--domes. so i fetched some brass finger-bowls and lustre basins off the dresser in the dining-room and inverted one on the chief tower of our fort, and behold! the east began to sparkle and beckon. domes called for minarets, and chessmen on pillars supplied the need. one thing led to another, and before the day was over the indian horsemen were in full charge across a sanded plain where palm trees grew--a sanded plain bounded only by the edges of the table, along three sides of which were buildings that never rose beside the banks of thames, but seemed quite suitable piles to reflect their fair proportions in the ganges or the sutlej, especially when viewed by eyes which had not had the privilege of gazing on those fair and distant streams. i learned a great deal in that my first day of what i may term romantic building, but what i learned was the merest shadow-sketch of the possibilities of my discovery. my little son, for his part, learned that a bowl one way up is a bowl, a thing for a little boy to eat bread and milk out of; the other way up it is a dome for a king's palace. that books are not only things to read, but that they will make marble slabs for the building of temples. that chessmen are not only useful for playing that difficult and tedious game on which grown-ups are so slowly and silently intent, or even for playing all those other games, of soldiers, which will naturally occur to any one with command of the pleasant turned pieces. chessmen, he learned, had other and less simple uses. as minarets of delicate carved work they lightened the mass of buildings and conferred elegance and distinction, converting what had been a block of bricks into a pavilion for a sultan or a tomb for a sultan's bride. [illustration: materials for the guard-room.] there was a little guard-room, i remember, at the corner of our first city, and there has been a little guard-room at the corner of every city we have built since. in simple beauty, that little guard-room seemed to us then to touch perfection. and really, you know, i have not yet been able to improve on it. the material was simplicity itself: six books, five chessmen, and a basin; and you see here how the guard-room looked when it was done. [illustration: the guard-room.] [illustration: the domino door.] there was a black box, i remember, standing on another box, with domino steps. it needed a door, and we made it a door of ivory with the double blank of the dominoes, and a portico of three cigarettes--two for pillars and one to lie on the top of the pillars and complete the portico. you have no idea how fine the whole thing looked--like a strong little house of ebony and ivory--a little sombre in appearance perhaps, and like a house that has a secret to keep, but quite fine. the palm trees we made out of pieces of larch and yew fastened by plasticine to the tops of elder twigs--and elder twigs have a graceful carriage, not too upright and yet not drooping. they look very like the trunks of tropical trees. but if you have not elders and larches and yew trees to command, you can make trees for your city in other ways. for little trees in tubs we had southernwood stuck in cotton reels--these make enchanting tubs, and there are a good many different shapes, so that your flower tubs are pleasantly varied. fir cones we found useful, too; they made magnificent _chevaux de frise_. [illustration: larch palm.] [illustration: the magic city. ]] on the first day of building what we soon came to call magic cities we trusted to inspiration; there was no time for thought. and this day was perhaps the most interesting day of all--for we had everything to learn. one of the things which i learned was that this magic city game was an excellent training for eye and hand, as well as for the imagination and the more soothing of the domestic virtues. the eye is trained to perceive likenesses and differences in the shapes and colours of things--to notice, as i said, that a bowl is a dome wrong way up, and that cigarettes are like white pillars. a beautiful yet sinister temple might be built with cigars for pillars and cigar-boxes for pediments, if cigars were the sort of things you were ever allowed to play with. you see that yew and larch and elder can be made to look like palm trees, and that shrubs in tubs are really like sprigs of southernwood in cotton reels. you go about with eyes newly opened to form and colour: you look at every object in a new light, trying to see whether it is or is not like something else--something that can be used in your magic city. you notice that a door is much the same shape as auntie's mother-of-pearl card-case, and your architectural instinct, already beginning to develop, assures you that a pearly door would be a beautiful thing for a temple, if only auntie sees things in the same light as you do. you perceive that a cribbage board is straight and narrow, as a path leading to such a door might be, and that if you stick tiny tufts of southernwood or veronica into the holes along the ivory sides of your path, your path will run between two little green hedges. you will notice that books make colonnades darkly mysterious if the lids of the brick boxes are laid along the back and along the top, and that based on these solidly built colonnades your bricks and arches will rise in galleries of unexpected dignity and charm. the building itself, the placing of bricks and dominoes, and books and chessmen and bowls, with exactness and neatness, is in itself a lesson in firm and delicate handling, such a lesson as is impossible if you are building with bricks alone. the call on the imagination is strong and clear. a house--the meanest hut--cannot be built without a plan or without an architect, though the architect may be only a little child and the plan may be only a little child's dream. to build without a plan is to heap bricks one on another, to make a cairn, not a house. the plan for the magic city, then, gets itself dreamed--the child's imagination learns to know what the bowl will look like when it is upside down, and, presently, what sort of bowls and books and bricks are needed to give to the cloud-capped palace of its desire some shadow in solid fact perceptible to the senses. to create in the image of his dream is the hope and the despair of every artist. and even though the image be distorted--as in all works of art, even the greatest, it always must be--yet it is joy even to have created the poorest image of a dream. and in the labour of creation will blossom those domestic virtues which best adorn the home; patience--for it is not often that for the young architect dream and image even vaguely coincide at the first effort, or the second or the third; good temper, for no one can build anything in a rage. the spirit of anger is the enemy of the spirit of architecture. and besides, being angry may make your hand shake, and then nothing is any good. perseverance too, without which patience is a mere passive endurance. all these grow strong while you build your cities and try to make visible your dream. i do not mean that a child building a city sees all of it at once--in every detail; i don't suppose even the heaviest of architects does that. but i mean that he sees the masses of it with the eye of the mind and arrives by experiment at the details that best suit those masses. if the glass ash-tray will not do, the tea-cup without a handle will--or perhaps the flower-pot saucer, or the lid of a cocoa-tin. . . . one must look about, and find something that _will_ do, something which when it is put in its place will seem the only possible thing. i don't know how real architects work, but this is how you work with magic cities. chapter v materials you wander round the house seeking beautiful things which look like other beautiful things. let us suppose that you have the run of a house where beautiful things are. i will tell you afterwards what to do in the house where beautiful--or at any rate costly--things are not. it is best when the owner of the house is an enthusiastic member of the building party; then she will grudge nothing. in the drawing-room you will find silver candlesticks and a silver inkstand. the candlesticks are like pillars. put the inkstand across the pillars and you have a gateway of unexampled splendour. if there be a silver-backed blotting-book, take it. it will make the great door of your greatest temple. silver bowls should not be passed by, nor bronzes. a vase of japanese bronze set up between two ebony elephants crowns a flat pillared building with splendour. there may be chinese dragons or egyptian gods that have lain a thousand years safe in their bronze amid the sands of the desert, cast aside by the foot of the camel, unseen in the shadow of the tent, and now decking the mantelpiece of the room you are looting. little silver figures of knights in armour and what not--take them if you get the chance. chessmen, too, as many as you can get, the carved ivory ones, of red and white, and the black and brown kind where the heads of the kings and queens are so like marbles and those of the pawns like boot-buttons; draughts too, and spillikins, and those little metal animals, heavy and coloured life-like, which you see on glass shelves in the fancy shop: take them too. they will serve other uses than those to which you will dedicate your noah's ark animals. card counters, especially the golden and mother-of-pearl kinds, and dominoes, and the willow-pattern pots and a blue cup or so from the glass-fronted cupboard. take all these, always giving preference to the things that you will not be asked to put back the same day. little japanese cabinets, tea-caddies of tortoiseshell or wood or silver, silver boxes--and boxes of all beautiful kinds. do not take the playing cards that people play bridge with: these are never quite the same after they have been used in magic cities, and the queen of hearts always gets lost. you can usually acquire odd packs of cards that nobody wants. those with black and gold backs are the best. they make gorgeous pagodas, and a touch of plasticine keeps each card where it should be. in the dining-room you may acquire perhaps, at least you can in mine, brass finger-bowls, and the lids of urns and kettles from the dresser--egg-cups and mugs and basins of lustre and of blue. also those very little pewter liqueur-cups from liberty's, and the tumblers for your towers of light, if you are going to have any. the library will yield you books and atlases--very useful for roofs these last, if they do not slope too much from back to edge; if they do, you can get even with them by wedges of paper laid in on the thin side. but the kitchen will be your happiest hunting-ground, and here you will make a good bag even in those houses where you are not allowed any of the treasures from the drawing-room or the dining-room. tins--tins of all kinds and shapes, from the tin that once held bath olivers and its lesser brother where coffee once lived to the square smaller tins designed for cocoa, mustard, pepper, and so forth. [illustration: honesty pillars.] a flour-dredger and a pepper-pot, a potato-cutter, patty pans, and those little tall tins that you bake castle puddings in, the round wooden moulds with which dairy-maids imprint cows and swans upon pats of butter, the kitchen mortar, especially the big marble one, so heavy that cook does not care to use it, brown earthenware bowls and stewing-pots, the lids of tea-pots, clothes-pegs, jars that have held ginger, and jars that have held jam--especially the brownish corrugated kind of jar--all these things and many more you may glean in a kitchen whose queen is kind. one of the most beautiful buildings i have ever made was built of kitchen things, and bricks and the boxes of bricks, a few shells, and a few chessmen. the three tall towers are two cocoa tins and a bath oliver tin, very brightly polished; the windows and doors and crenellations are of black _passe-partout_, that nice gummed paper which you buy in reels for binding pictures and glass together when you don't want to have picture-frames. on the tops of the tins are the lids of a silver urn, a silver butter dish, and a silver jam-jar. a salt-cellar (wrong way up, with a white chess knight on it) and a pepper-pot with _passe-partout_ doors and windows stand at the base of the tower, and turrets are made of round bricks and draughts, with the chess castles on the top. the porch is a big potato-cutter, with a white chess king on it, and on each side two books with a binding of white and pale gold. along the top of the porch run the lids of two domino-boxes; on these are two rounds that happened when the arches were being cut out. on these little pearl shells are glued, and little roofs of blue tiles complete the porch. behind these more books, white and pale gold with marbled sides, lead up to the platform on which the great tin towers rise up against the snowy background (linen sheets over the backs of chairs). the lower building is of the boxes of bricks faced with bricks and bearing a large blue jar crowned with a silver egg-cup, a flour-dredger, and a pepper-pot, and some blue and white tiles. an egyptian god stands at the corner of the upper and the lower building, and two green trees with white roses grow out of a tomb at the left. the pathway is of tiles edged with fir cones, and two rose-trees within tubs (cotton reels) stand at its beginning; the whole thing was blue and silver and black, and i wish i could show you a coloured picture of it, or, better still, build the thing up for you to see. the lower platform on the right is a box faced with silver seed-vessels of honesty, and the arches and court are red. the steps are made of blocks of sugar. the tank is edged with red bricks and the water where the seal swims is silver paper. in front is a pavement made of mother-of-pearl card counters, and the inside of the court is made of one large red tile with a pattern of white on it. (you can do this with a square board painted red, and counters laid on it.) the fountain in the middle is a brass match-box and the waters that rise from it are silver paper; but in the picture the water of the fountain seems to have been blown aside by the wind, which no doubt is severe in "those desolate regions of snow." you can build just such another tower and castle with the things you have, but when once you start building you will most likely think of some other way, quite different from mine, and just as good. tiles, by the way, are most useful, and if you have an uncle who is an architect he will have any number sent to him as samples, and he will be rather glad to get rid of them. if your uncles are all eminent in other walks of life it is a pity, but you are probably friends with the man who papers and paints your house, or the man who comes when the pipes burst at christmas, or the man who comes about the gas, or the man who knows all the sullen secrets of the kitchen range. it will be strange if none of these can get you a few coloured tiles when once they know you want them. it is well, if you are a child with a taste for building, to take pains to become acquainted with all the men who come to your house to do interesting things with tools and wood and iron and lead. quite apart from the joy of watching their slow and mysterious processes, and thinking how easy it would be to be a plumber or a paperhanger yourself, there are all sorts of things left over from their work which are of no use to them, but may be of much use to you. all sorts of screws and nails, for instance, these generous men will now and then bestow--little screws of dry colour, little pieces of brass, door-knobs and finger-plates, thick red earthenware pipe, good for towers, lengths of pleasantly coloured wall-paper--the wrong side of which, being plain, can be used for all sorts of purposes. lead piping is useful too, especially if you get it cut into -in. lengths--and cut _straight_. the sections make excellent and stable flower-pots for cities. bits of brass tubing are useful too--in fact, brass objects of all sorts deserve your careful consideration. because, if a city is to look handsome, it must have a good deal of metal about it, as the cities in atlantis did. as i write i see more and more clearly that a sharp distinction must be drawn between cities built and demolished in an afternoon, and cities that can be kept going and added to day by day for weeks. you may often be fortunate enough to raid drawing-room and dining-room and to use the spoils for a building that only lasts a day, but no one will strip her rooms of all the pretty things you want and let you keep them for weeks. therefore if you are going to build a city that is to go on, you must collect the materials of your own, and the odds and ends that amiable workmen will readily give you will take a useful place in your collection. if you let it be known that you want odds and ends of pretty and simple shapes, your friends will save them for you, and you will gradually amass the things you need. i know well enough that there will have to be a place to keep them, but the toy-cupboard, if you clear out all the toys you never play with, will hold a good deal, and many of the things you collect will do for other purposes as well as for the building of cities. chapter vi collections [illustration: trees.] first in your building collection will be the boxes, arches, and steps of which i have spoken. dominoes and draughts and chessmen you probably have. odd chessmen--quite beautiful ones can often be bought for a few pence--are very valuable for our purpose. the black and red halma men are very useful too, but the yellow and green always look cheap and nasty. card counters are useful, and so is silver paper. glass drops off old chandeliers are good for fountains, and pieces of green cloth for grass plots. the back of green wall-paper does for this, too; and very realistic grass lawns can be made by chopping up the long green grass that people sell for fire screens. it is really sedge finely split up, and dyed. you cut it up as finely as you can with scissors, and when you have about a teacupful you take a square of stiff cardboard and cover it all over with glue; then quickly, before the glue has time to cool, you sprinkle your chopped grass thickly all over it and leave it to dry. next day, _not before_, spread a newspaper and turn the cardboard over so that the loose grass falls away on to the paper. fasten down your grass plot in a suitable place in your city and build a little red brick wall round it with a little arched gateway, and you will have a neat and charming enclosed garden. for garden beds dark-coloured tobacco makes good mould, and shows up your little rose-trees. you can make standard rose-trees of loofah--dyed green, and the stalks of long matches painted brown. the roses, which are stuck on with glue, are red or white immortelles, and the whole effect is just what you are trying for. large trees can be made of sprigs of box or veronica, with immortelles glued on, and they will last fresh and pretty about a week. palm trees can be made of elder stems and larch or of the sedge grass. lay the grass evenly and, beginning about half-way down, wind brown wool or silk thread round and round closely and, very like splicing a cricket bat, work downwards towards the thick part of the grass stalk. fasten the end very strongly. then stick the stem in a cotton reel or a lead piping pot, cut off, evenly, the loose ends of the grass, fold them back level, cut the stem. for the city of a day sprigs of southernwood, lavender, thyme, or marjoram make charming little trees. shells are extremely useful for decoration and produce the effect of carving. almost all shells will be useful in one way or another, but i have found the most satisfaction in the gray and pearly shells which you find among the thick seaweed ridges on the beach below the grey cliffs of cornwall, and the little yellow periwinkly shells that lie on the rocks below the white cliffs of kent. if you glue these shells strongly on arches and pillars you will find them very handsome adornments. [illustration: thick arches.] keep your shells in boxes. there are always plenty of boxes in the world, and if not boxes, little bags will do to hold the different kinds of shells. it is well worth while to keep the different kinds separate. the work of sorting out the shells is very damping to the eager enthusiast anxious to execute a decorative design. indeed, it is well to keep all your building materials sorted each according to its kind, the wooden things together and the metal things and, above all, the crockery things. keep the noah's ark animals in their ark, and the bricks in their boxes, and when you are going to build don't get everything out at once and make a rubbish heap of it on the floor. [illustration: fan window.] as you grow more accustomed to building, you will find that sometimes you build a temple or palace that charms you so much that you wish to build it again; and you will soon learn what are the materials needed, and just take out those and a few more from your store. i say a few more, because you will never build your temple or your palace twice _exactly_ the same: you are sure to think of some improvement, however small. i have made beautiful windows with the sticks of an old ivory fan, framed in dark wood bricks, and ornamented the dark wall above with elephant tusk shells and others, and below with carved ivory card counters. [illustration: the elephant temple.] there is a certain elephant temple which i have built many times. its floor is a red and white chessboard, and its roof is supported on a double row of white pillars. white pillars surround the altar--a wooden box--on which the ebony elephant stands. on each side of him are red fairy lights, hidden by buttresses from the human eye which peeps through the brazen gates into that shadowy interior, and falling full on the elephant on his pillared shrine. the walls are of big red books--_sheridan's plays_, _tom jones_, and boswell's _life of johnson_. the roof is a flat square lid, once the lid of a packing case, stained a dark brown like the bricks. on the side are the windows made of the ivory fan, and the dark bricks and the elephant tusk shells. there is a door, too, a mother-of-pearl one; in a former life it was the card-case of a much-loved aunt, who nobly contributed it to the temple. above this door is a white animal from the noah's ark. and all the rest of that wall is built up of dark-stained brown wooden bricks. the other side shows between dark buttresses the red of the books, and towards the back of this side are small square buildings--wooden boxes stained brown--with brass domes and mysterious doorways. i think the priests and attendants of the temple live here. the front of the temple shows a little of the red between dark buttresses, which, here, are ornamented with delicate dark carved chessmen. the gate is of pierced brass--two finger-plates for a door, and the brazen pillars of the portico are two candlesticks, which support a brass inkstand, on which stand two yellowish wooden chessmen. on the middle of the roof is a big lacquered wooden bowl--the kind that nice grocers put in their windows full of prunes or coffee. above is a brass rose-bowl, on that a finger-bowl of inlaid brass, crowned with a black chess king. there are two dark arches with bed-knobs on them, and round the roof are various towers and turrets, and tall minarets made of dark bricks with chessmen on the top. in front of the pillars at the gate two black elephants stand on wooden plinths, and the fore-court of the temple and the space at the side are paved with mother-of-pearl. i know the main things that are needed for this temple, but its details are changed a little every time i build it. if you cannot get mother-of-pearl card counters you can make a beautiful pavement by pasting the shining pods of honesty in a pattern on a piece of dark brown cardboard, or dark brown paper pasted on cardboard; but if you do this you must build a little dark-wood brick wall all round to hide the brown paper edges. build gatehouses in your wall, little ones, to show off, by contrast, the massive splendour of your temple. these honesty pods are a most useful substitute for mother-of-pearl. you can paste them on square pillars or on the fronts of boxes (houses i mean) or make sloping roofs of them by sticking them on folded cardboard fastened at the proper angle by tapes glued about a third of the way up. but as a rule sloping roofs are not good in eastern cities. a grass garden with paths of honesty, or a shell-built fountain basin in the middle, will add a charm to any city square. and by the way, don't be afraid of open spaces. have as many buildings as you like, and mass them together as you choose, but let there be open spaces. they will be to your building as mounts are to pictures or margins to books. and for frame or binding, let there be a wall all round your city. it gives a neatness and a completeness which enhance a hundred-fold all the qualities your city may possess. [illustration: honesty roof.] there are cardboard models of st. paul's cathedral, the tower bridge, and the temple at jerusalem. these are interesting in themselves and it is good to put them together. the temple, which is sold by the religious tract society, is really beautiful, and when you have set it up it looks like a model in ivory. the bridge and the cathedral are of dull brown pasteboard--but they are interesting for all that. but when you are tired of these things as models, parts of them can be used with great effect in your building, especially if you paint the brown ones with aluminium paint, or even whitewash them. in the foreground of the picture of the astrologer's tower you will see a little house which doesn't look as if it belonged where it is. and no more it does. it was put in just to show you what these little cardboard buildings are like--it is one of the gate-houses of the tower bridge, and the little white house on the parapet above the steps in the picture of the silver towers is a little gate-house out of another model. when you are collecting shells, you will find smooth flat stones of pleasing colours. collect them--the thinner the better--you can make mosaic floors of them, fastening them in their place with glue or a very thin layer of plasticine. fir-cones of all shapes and sizes are useful, from the delicate cones of the larch to the great varnished-looking cones that fall from the big pine trees on the riviera; they call them pineapples there--_pommes-de-pin_--and they use them for lighting fires. but you can use them for the tops of towers. a little, and only a very little, red tinsel paper is good to use, for the backs of shrines. it gives a suggestion of the glow of hidden lamps--or, put as windows near the tops of towers, it suggests the glow of sunset falling on jewelled casements. you can get it, and also bundles of stamped strips of gold paper, which should be used very sparingly indeed, from mr. bousquet, of the barbican, in london city. there are other things which could serve for part of your collection, but i have told about these in the chapter on poor children's cities, because the poorest child can get them. but they are desirable in any collection, such things as tobacco-tins, jam-jars, clothes-pegs, and the different kinds of common things that you can use for decorating the fronts and backs and sides of houses, if you have not enough bricks to build façades to them all. and remember always to make the backs of your houses as beautiful as the fronts. they may--and should--be plainer but not less beautiful. do not be like the jerry-builders who spend all their decoration, such as it is, on the flat fronts of their villas, and leave the sides and back flat and ugly, and so that when you see the row of them from the railway they look miserable and dejected, as though they knew how ugly they were and were sorry. chapter vii the poor child's city when my city was built at olympia a great many school-teachers who came to see it told me that they would like to help the children in their schools to build such cities, but that it would not be possible because the children came from poor homes, where there were none of the pretty things--candlesticks, brass bowls, silver ash-trays, chessmen, draughts, well-bound books, and all the rest of it--which i had used to build my city. so then i said i would build a city out of the sort of things that poor children could collect and bring to school. and i did. my friends mr. annis and mr. taylor, who were helping me to explain the city and show it to visitors, helped me with the building. we did it in a day, and it was very pretty--so pretty that the school-teachers who came to see it asked me to write a book to say how _that_ was done. and so i did. there are no words to express half what i feel about the teachers in our council schools, their enthusiasm, their patience, their energy, their devotion. when we think of what the lives of poor children are, of the little they have of the good things of this world, the little chance they have of growing up to any better fate than that of their fathers and mothers, who do the hardest work of all and get the least pay of all those who work for money--when we think how rich people have money to throw away, how their dogs have velvet coats and silver collars, and eat chicken off china, while the little children of the poor live on bread and tea, and wear what they can get--often enough, too little--when we think of all these things, if we can bear to think of them at all, there is not one of us, i suppose, who would not willingly die if by our death we could secure for these children a fairer share of the wealth of england, the richest country in the world. for wealth, by which i mean money, can buy all those things which children ought to have, and which these children do not have--good food, warm clothes, fresh country air, playthings and books, and pictures. remembering that by far the greater number of children of england have none of these things, you would, i know, gladly die if dying would help. to die for a cause is easy--you leap into the gulf like curtius, or fall on the spears like winkelried, or go down with your ship for the honour of your country. to lead a forlorn hope, to try to save one child from fire or water, and die in the attempt--that is easy and glorious. the hard thing to do is to live for your country--to live for its children. and it is this that the teachers in the council schools do, year in and year out, with the most unselfish nobility and perseverance. and nobody applauds or makes as much fuss as is made over a boy who saves a drowning kitten. in the face of enormous difficulties and obstacles, exposed to the constant pin-pricks of little worries, kept short of space, short of materials and short of money, yet these teachers go on bravely, not just doing what they are paid to do, but a thousand times more, devoting heart, mind, and soul to their splendid ambition and counting themselves well paid if they can make the world a better and a brighter place for the children they serve. if these children when they grow up shall prove better citizens, kinder fathers, and better, wiser, and nobler than their fathers were, we shall owe all the change and progress to the teachers who are spending their lives to this end. and this i had to say before i could begin to write about how cities may be built of such materials as poor children can collect and bring to school. for i have to own that poor children live in such little crowded houses that there is no room for the building of cities, and in the courts and streets where they play they cannot build, for the passers-by would tumble over their cities, and the policemen would call it an obstruction. so if they have a city at all it must be where they have most of their pleasant plays--at school. besides, the children i have in mind are so very poor, that no one child could possibly collect enough materials for a city. but a number of children could each of them bring a few things, and thus make up enough for the building. and in most schools there will be some children not quite so poor who can afford a penny or so for tinsel paper and the few things--colours, paints, and so on--that do not occur naturally in a house, even a well-to-do house. these, let us hope, will be able to furnish a few old chessmen, for there is nothing like chessmen for giving an air of elegance to domes and minarets. if you cannot get chessmen, small clothes-pegs are good. you can cut them in halves and then you have two kinds of minaret. they can be coloured red or dark brown, or, if your city seems likely to lack metal, you can paint them with gold or aluminium paint. they look well when cut shorter as the battlements of buildings, rather like halma men, but of handsomer and more rotund proportions. your halma man as you buy him in a box is ever a bit of a starveling. if you cut your peg into three, the middle section will make short round pillars to support little galleries, the roof being a strip of mill-board or the lid of a narrow box. [illustration: clothes pegs.] cardboard and wooden boxes of all sizes and shapes are always easy to get. these can be coloured as explained in another chapter, and little doors and windows cut in them. but be sparing of windows; too many windows detract from the dignity of your tower, and make it look like a factory. in poor schools there will not be many bricks, and something must be done to add variety to the façades of buildings when there are not enough bricks to cover or decorate your boxes. a good deal can be done with haricot beans, tapioca, and sago. fasten the beans round the doorways and the windows with glue or seccotine or plasticine. if you use glue let the bean-work be quite cold before you do anything else with it. "next day" is an excellent rule. when the beans are quite firmly fixed, glue the surface all over and sprinkle _thickly_ with tapioca so that not a bit of the box shows. leave the tapioca lying on the surface till _next day_, then turn it up; the loose tapioca will fall off and leave a pleasant rough-cast-looking surface. round cardboard boxes, such as muff-boxes or biscuit-boxes make splendid towers treated in this way. if you cannot get the little round yellow periwinkly shells, maize is very good if you cut each grain flat with a sharp knife, and fix the grains with glue as pillars and arches. tin boxes or round tins polished to silvery brightness, with doors and windows and crenellations of black _passe-partout_, can be built into palaces of astonishing splendour, as you can see in the picture of the silver towers. but always beware of too many windows. other excellent towers are jam-pots: you can paint them any colour you like, but i advise you to stick to terra-cotta, cream colour, and dark brown. very pretty towers can be made of white jam-pots with windows and doors and crenellation of gold paper. only you should outline the gold with ink or dark stain to make it show up against the white. basins that are cracked make good domes, and you can almost always get a cracked basin, however poor you are; tea-cups that have lost their handles, or had a piece bitten out of them, are also not hard to get, and the lids of teapots that are broken, and of saucepans that have been burnt through, come readily enough to the hand of the collector. honey pots and the little brown jugs that cream is sold in are easy to come by, and make moorish-looking domes for buildings. when once you begin to build, you will find that all sorts of things that before looked neither useful nor beautiful become both, when they are built into your city. look at the bedstead-knobs in the elephant temple, and the pepper-pots and the tea-cups on the top of the tower of pearl and red. [illustration: towers and cocoanut cottage.] those children who are lucky enough to go into the country for a holiday can collect fir-cones and acorns; nicely shaped bits of wood are more easily come by in a country village than in a london slum. acorns are most useful, both the acorn and the cup. a brown building with doors and windows outlined in acorn cups with their flat side set on with glue looks like a precious work of carved wood. if you can't get acorn cups, the shells of barcelona nuts are good, but they are difficult to cut into the needed cup shape. the shells of pea-nuts on a stone-coloured building look like carved stones, but always the nutshell must fit its edges tightly and neatly to the surface and show as a little round neat boss. your own observation will supply you with other little and valueless things, which will become valuable as soon as you stick them evenly and closely on a foundation of their own colour. the periwinkly shells and the maize grains look best on white wood. the shells of the cocoanut have a value all their own. the larger ones, sawn neatly in halves, make impressive domes for brown buildings, and half a small cocoanut shell will roof a cardboard box that has held elastic bands, and you can call it a thatched cottage or the hut of a savage chief. i called mine cocoanut cottage, and the curator of my botanical museum lived there. the chief astrologer, of course, lived at the top of his tower, which was a photographic enlarging apparatus. ponds and rivers can be made with the silver paper that comes off cigarettes, and i have made a very impressive tower with match boxes, painted black and piled one on another so that the blue side shows in front, with a touch of red at each side. black windows if you like. if you cannot get any chessmen the pinnacles of your buildings must be clothes-pegs, acorns, and fir-cones, with a very occasional piece of lead pencil or short piece of brass tubing with an acorn or a fir-cone on the top. fir-cones, too, look quite baronial stuck upright on the posts of gates--and they are good edging for paths and roads. pill-boxes make nice little turrets, and cotton reels, coloured to match the bricks and the boxes, are the finest flower tubs in the world. with sprigs of evergreen stuck in them, or a little made rose-tree, they look quite life-like and convincing, especially if you paste a circle of brown paper on the top of the reel, to look like mould, before you stick your shrub in the hole so conveniently placed in the reel, apparently on purpose to have shrubs planted in it. cotton reels with acorns or fir-cones on them are good on the top of gate-posts. [illustration: cotton reels.] [illustration: lattice window.] these are just a few of the things that poor children can get and the way they can use them. the moment you begin to build you will think of a hundred things that i have not thought of, and a hundred ways of using them that i should not have thought of trying. if you can so arrange the site of your city that it need not be disturbed, it will grow in beauty day by day, and you will presently have to name a day to satisfy the children who will want to bring their parents to see it. if you give a school party no other attraction will be needed, and you will find that neither children nor parents will tire of examining your city as a whole and in detail, exclaiming at its beauty and marvelling at its ingenuity. and the children will love it. and so will you. if you are disposed to take a little more trouble with your towers, you can cover them with cement, and mould the crenellations and windows with your fingers. the cement is made of newspaper, size, and whitening. tear up two newspapers and boil them in four quarts of water for three hours. then pound the paper in a large mortar, or squeeze it in your hands till it is all pulp. it will have an unpleasing grey colour at this stage, but in the end it will be creamy white. then add equal quantities of size and whitening and a pinch of yellow ochre, mix thoroughly and let the mixture get cold, when it is ready for use. if it is too thin warm it again, and add more whitening, but do not let the mixture _boil_ after the size has been added. when the mixture with which you have covered your tower is dry,--it takes some days--it will be as hard as stone. a cocoa tin set on a treacle tin makes a very neat tower, as you will see by the picture. square towers can also be made in this way, by covering square tins with the cement. in fact, with a little trouble and some tins of different sizes and shapes you could build a whole palace in this way. doors can be made of black paper, and lattices of paper cut and folded, with black paper behind it, as you can see for yourself by the picture. chapter viii the end you will have noticed that though i began by pointing out that children differ as much as grown-up people do, and that the individual character and temperament of one child are not the character and temperament of another, yet i have throughout spoken of the needs of the child as though the needs of all children were the same. that is because, in the body of this work, i have been dealing with the needs of children as a genus, and not with those of the individual or species. there are certain needs common to all children, needs as universal as the need for food, raiment, warmth, and light. such are the needs for sympathy and justice, leisure and liberty. these things are admitted by all but the driest economists to be the rights of adults, but not, alas! always admitted as the rights of children. and i have tried to show a little what it is that is essential to the true well-being of all children. the hungers and thirsts of the individual spirit cannot be dealt with by any but those in close relation to the individual child. i have tried to lay down broad outlines--to make suggestions, to point out pleasant ways leading to pleasant places. parents, teachers, pastors and masters will make the application--or the variation--in every individual case. one of the things that is the matter with modern education is the absence of the conception of personal idiosyncrasies, tastes, character and temperament. for the matter of that it is this indifference to personality which makes the whole of our civilisation vulgar and vain. our education treats children as though they were all cast in one mould; it treats men and women as though they, in their sphere, differed not at all one from another. you will say that it is impossible, in a great country and a great school, to find out the personal tastes and wishes, hopes, dreams, powers, and possibilities of individuals, and you are quite right. that is why large schools and large communities fail so detestably in the very objects of their existence. schools are intended to educate, and they merely instruct. communities are, at least i suppose they are, intended to enable their members to live happy and useful lives as free citizens, and they only succeed in making slaves of the many and tyrants of the few. the machinery of government and the machinery of so-called education is too big--what it has to deal with is too big--for any fine result to be possible. if we are ever to get out of children, and men and women, anything like the best of which they are capable, we shall have to have much smaller schools and much smaller communities. some sort of beautiful and useful corporate life is possible in a place the size of bedford; it is not possible in a place the size of london. ten or twenty children in a class can be treated as individual human beings, and the best that is in them drawn out by a sympathetic understanding of personal traits and characteristics. but a class of seventy or eighty must be treated as a machine of which the little live units are but wheels and cogs. it can, as a machine, be made to do certain things; the component parts of it can be made to contribute their share to the general result, even as the bright and helpless parts of a machine contribute to its activity. but you can never get out of the children composing such a class anything approaching the fine result which can be achieved by an education based on the broad lines of what is good for _children_, with a superstructure of delicate perception of what is good for the _individual child_. dick, tom, and harry can join in certain lessons and certain games, but there will always be some matters in which dick is not in the least like tom, and harry is quite different from both the others. the people who govern us talk about education--they talk greatly, and a little they do. but they will not do the one simple, straightforward thing which is as essential to the growth of the mind as vital religion is to the growth of the soul. any teacher in any elementary school knows what is needed, but those in power do not know it. they will make scholarships as plentiful as blackberries, they will do all sorts of fine things for secondary education. the one thing they will not do is to _reduce the size of the classes_ in elementary schools. and so long as this is not done the millions we spend yearly on education are, to a pitiably great extent, millions wasted. we might almost as well take at least half the money, put it in bags, tie it up with red tape, and drop it over london bridge, or, still better, spend the money in monthly exhibitions of free fireworks, which would at least give the children and the grown-ups one jolly evening in thirty. a small class can be taught, and taught well, by a teacher of as average ability as ever tumbled head over heels from london to york, but a large class your average teacher will never get at at all. it takes a genius and an orator to speak intelligibly to more than fifteen people. i sometimes wonder if teachers know how much of their teaching their scholars miss altogether--fail to see, fail to grasp, do not know is there. between the careless or overworked teacher and the timid and rather stupid child there is a great gulf fixed. to such a child the voice of the teacher is the voice of one crying in the wilderness, crying quite aimlessly, in a wilderness of unintelligible jargon. many boys--in public as well as elementary schools by the way--go through their whole school life "scraping through somehow," and never once having a clear idea of anything that they are doing, hardly ever a glimpse of what anything is about or that anything has any reasonable relation to anything else. it is rather like a miracle, whichever way you take it, but there it is, and a miracle which might be made impossible and unnecessary by a little sensible commonplace legislation. we want smaller classes, and we want those classes better taught. that is to say, we want more teachers, and better-paid teachers; we want our teachers to be placed in a position of certain comfort, that they shall not be living in the house of poverty with the wolf of worry always nosing round the door, distracting their attention from what should be their chief thought--for most of the months of the year. we want longer holidays, and a better provision for happiness in those holidays, both for teachers and children. we want every teacher and every child to have a real holiday, not merely an absence from school. in a word, we want more money spent on schools and less on gaols and reformatories. it cannot be put too plainly that the nation which will not pay for her schools must pay for her prisons and asylums. people don't seem to mind so much paying for prisons and workhouses. what they really hate seems to be paying for schools. and yet how well, in the end, such spending would pay us! "there is no darkness but ignorance," and we have now such a chance as has never been the lot of men since time began, a chance to light enough lamps to dispel that darkness. if only we would take that chance! even from the meanest point of view we ought to take it. it would be cheaper in the end. schools are cheaper than prisons. now that i have written the words i don't like the look of them; and looking back through this book, i see that most of what i have written applies to the kind of children who are in little danger of going to prison, children in comfortable homes, with enough of, at any rate, material well-being. most of my book refers to the class that is not taught in council schools, and that will not be sent to a reformatory if the eighth commandment is not learnt in one lesson. this class is called the upper middle-class, and it does not go to the council schools because it has money to go elsewhere. the children of this class are, in brain and heart, not superior to the children of what are called the working classes. place the middle-class children in the surroundings of the slum child, and thereupon the middle-class child would grow as the slum child grows, as the plant debarred from light grows--_not straight_. what we want is that there should be a distribution of wealth so changed from the one that now destroys the nation's balance as to put every parent in a position to pay for his child's education, and that the nation's schools should be so superlatively better than all other schools that no parent would dream of sending his child to any school but that provided by the nation for the nation's children. and now that it comes to good-bye, i am sorry to say it. i feel that i have only been touching the fringe of the greatest problem in the world: that there is very much which i have left unsaid, or which i might have said differently, and better. one might go on for all one's life thinking and writing about children and their needs, and always there would be more unsaid than said, less thought than food for thought. if the thoughts which i have striven to set forth give food for thought in others, if my little candle may help to kindle a great torch, i shall look back on the writing of this book as a great privilege and the memory of the hours spent on it i shall treasure with a glad and grateful heart. _printed by hazell, watson & viney, ld., london and aylesbury._ * * * * * transcriber's notes: varried hyphenation retained. obvious punctuation errors repaired. transcriber's notes: italic text is marked _thus_; bold text is shown =thus=. apparent typographical errors have been corrected and hyphenation standardised. unusual punctuation and original spelling have been retained. fig. numbers do not follow in strict numerical order. [illustration: front cover.] the boy craftsman handicraft books by a. neely hall _ vo. cloth. illustrated with hundreds of photographs and working drawings by the author and norman p. hall_ the boy craftsman handicraft for handy boys (_revised edition_) the handy boy (_revised edition_) home-made toys for girls and boys handicraft for handy girls carpentry and mechanics for boys home-made games and game equipment (_revised edition_) outdoor boy craftsmen big book of boys' hobbies lothrop, lee & shepard company boston new york [illustration: a boy's workshop.] the boy craftsman practical and profitable ideas for a boy's leisure hours by a. neely hall with more than four hundred illustrations by the author and norman p. hall [illustration: page decoration.] boston lothrop, lee & shepard co. copyright, , by lothrop, lee & shepard company. published, august, . _all rights reserved._ the boy craftsman. norwood press j. s. cushing & co.--berwick & smith co. norwood, mass., u.s.a. work hard--play hard. --theodore roosevelt. note to the reader the boy of to-day is ever on the lookout for new ideas which can be adopted for his work and recreation, schemes which are practical and which are thoroughly up-to-date. they must be helpful in suggesting ways of earning money, as well as entertaining, for what boy of the present day does not feel the need of such suggestions to aid him in raising the funds necessary to carry on his work? in none of the books published on boy's handicraft has the question entered into consideration as to how he is to obtain the means with which to buy such materials and apparatus as the work requires. a boy should not expect to draw upon his father's purse for everything his fancy desires. it is important that he learn to earn his spending money, for in doing so he becomes independent and more careful as to how he invests it. having had the experience of working, the average boy learns to so appreciate the value of hard-earned money that it is pretty certain he will spend it only for something with which he can earn more or which will prove useful to him in his work and play. "the boy craftsman" has been undertaken with a view of helping boys with their problems of earning money, as well as furnishing recreative and entertaining work, and to this end the first portion has been devoted to suggestions for the carrying on of a number of small business enterprises, and the second and third parts to outdoor and indoor pastimes for all seasons of the year. in "profitable pastimes" a boy will find work that will make easy the matter of earning money with which to buy such materials as he needs to carry out the suggestions offered in the book, while the practical knowledge acquired and the handiness developed in pursuing the several lines of work is certain to be helpful to him in later years. the tools and apparatus used are such as a boy of average ability can procure with a little hustling, and can be purchased singly, or two or three at a time, as his money permits. the materials at hand can be used in thousands of different ways, and in preparing the chapters this has been taken into consideration, these odds and ends being utilized whenever it has been possible to do so. carpenter work is something with which every boy must familiarize himself to a certain extent in order to do anything in the line of construction, so the fitting up of a workshop and the proper handling of tools have been described in the first two chapters, in view of making it a simple matter to perform the work embodied in the rest of the book. technical terms and phrases have been eliminated from the text as far as possible, and where it has been deemed necessary to include them, to describe certain operations for which a boy should know the proper terms or expressions, they have generally been explained in the first chapter in which they occur. to simplify the matter of referring to the definitions of these, they have been arranged alphabetically in chapter xxix. some of the material contained in this book was originally written by the author in the form of magazine articles for _the american boy_ and _the boys' world_, and thanks are due the publishers, the sprague publishing company and the david c. cook publishing company, for permission to reprint it. this material has been revised and enlarged upon, and is presented with new and additional illustrations. the author is always glad to hear from his young readers, and to be of assistance to them in answering any questions they wish to ask regarding their work. a. n. h. chicago, illinois, may , . contents [illustration: boy 'fixing' clock with a hammer.] part i _profitable pastimes_ chapter i page a boy's workshop value of a knowledge of carpenter work--location of shop--a solid work-bench--the vise--bench-stops--carpenter's horses--a bench-hook--a mitre-box--a sand-paper block--a strop--a plumb-- purchasing tools--tool-cabinets--racks for tools--a carpenter's carrying-box--a nail-box--receptacles for supplies--workshop clothes--care of oily rags and waste. chapter ii the proper handling of tools care of tools--the cross-cut saw and rip-saw--sawing--the back-saw, compass-saw, and gig-saw--kerfs--the jack-plane, fore-plane, and smoothing-plane--planing--testing work--the firmer-chisel--paring--the framing-chisel-chamfering and bevelling --the gouge--the draw-knife--boring--an automatic-drill-- hatchet and hammer--driving nails--withdrawing nails--toe-nailing --blind-nailing--clinching--the nail-set--nails--screw-driver for bit-stock--screws--the countersink. sharpening tools grinding chisels, gouges, draw-knives, knives and hatchets--the washita oil-stone--whetting--stropping--sharpening saws. laying out work use of the try-square--gauging with rule and pencil--a marking-gauge --a mitred try-square--the bevel--to divide a board. chapter iii the boy about the house opportunities for work--outfit for jobbing--the hinge-lock-- clothes-line reel--a broom and dust-pan rack--the fly-killer--an ash-sifter--a bread-board--a plate-rack chapter iv suggestions for a boy's room simple and inexpensive furnishings--what the room should contain--a cosey-corner--pennants--small posters--picture-frames--a writing-desk--another style of desk--an ink-stand and pen-tray--a couch--a window-seat--a curio-cabinet--book-shelves--a blacking-case--a towel-rack. chapter v how to make a doll-house store doll-houses--profit from making doll-houses--the materials required--the base--the floors--partitions and walls--stairways --balustrades--front and rear steps--the gambrel roof--the gable-ends--the doors and windows--outside trimmings--casters-- the chimneys--a mantel and fire-place--andirons--the interior woodwork--painting the house. chapter vi another doll-house and a stable packing-cases and other material--the floor plans--the partitions and walls--the elevator-shaft--the windows--the roof--the chimney--an elevator--the gable-ends--the stairway--a balustrade --other details. how to make the stable dimensions of stable--the first story--the roof--the gable-ends-- the stall partitions and feed-troughs--windows--ladder to hay-loft --feed-hoist--the drop-front--a stable door--painting. chapter vii furnishing the doll-house the walls and ceiling--hardwood floors--carpets and rugs-- window-shades and curtains--portieres--pictures--a cosey-corner-- buying furnishings. chapter viii doll-furniture metal furniture--miniature mission furniture--material--drawing the patterns--the chairs--the settee--tables--a side-board--a mirror--the grandfather's clock--kitchen furniture--the beds-- the dresser--a wash-stand--finishing. other cigar-box furniture a folding-bed--the dresser--a wardrobe. chapter ix a boy's printing-shop location of printing-shop--equipment--selection of type-- type-cases--a rack for type-cases--a composing-stick--a composing-rule--justifying--a home-made galley--"pieing"--proofs --the imposing-stone--the chase--furniture--locking-up a form-- distribution--the tympan--overlaying--underlaying--gauge-pins-- inking the press--care of rollers--neatness--receptacles for materials--care of waste paper and oily rags. chapter x amateur journalism a collection of amateur papers--amateur press associations--some methods of printing papers--examples of amateur papers--the character of a paper--naming--the frequency of publication--the size of page--a stereotyped heading--the choice of type--a cover --binding--advertisements--the advertisers' dummy--second-class matter. chapter xi a boy's dark-room profit in photography--the necessary equipment--the bedroom as a dark-room--the bath-room as a dark-room--another scheme for a dark-room--a work-table--running water--a water-tank--a sink-- a washing-box--a drying-rack--another scheme for a drying-rack--a cabinet--a ruby-light--a home-made lantern--a plate-lifter-- classifying and preserving negatives--manila envelopes--a negative-case. chapter xii a winter enterprise an opportunity for making money--a snow plough--a scraper--a snow shovel. part ii _outdoor pastimes_ chapter xiii a back-yard club-house how some boys built a club-house--a mysterious letter--drawing the plan of a club-house--the material--fishing studs--staking out the building--the studs--boarding up the sides--the roof--the floor --a window-sash--a batten door--wooden latch--calking up cracks. chapter xiv how to build a log-cabin the pioneer cabin--the cabin of to-day--selection of a site-- design and size--the material--staking out the cabin--the lock-joint--the sills--construction of roof--ridge boards--a log chimney and fire-place--calking--a mud floor--the windows--the cabin door--wooden hinges--wooden latch--the latch-string--a mantel-shelf--provision cupboard--rustic seats--bunks--a camp-table--a few pointers about camping--utensils--other necessities--provisions. chapter xv how to build a canvas canoe canoeing as a sport--popularity of canvas canoes--materials--the bow and stern pieces--the keelson--the mould--putting the framework together--the gunwales--the ribbands--the deck beams-- the ridge pieces--the deck braces--the cockpit--the canvas covering--the deck--painting--the cockpit coaming--the keel-- the bilge-keels--outside gunwales--a seat--how to mend punctures --a single paddle. chapter xvi home-made traps trapping as a pastime--the city boy and his country cousin--the figure-four trap--a box trap--the dead fall--the sieve trap--the coop trap--a rabbit snare--a twitch-up--the professional trapper --wolves and coyotes--story of a trapped indian. chapter xvii toy guns, targets, and bows and arrows ancient war engines--new idea for a cross-bow--shingle arrows--a toy pistol--cardboard bullets--a shot-gun--an elastic sling--a boy's barrel-hoop target--a simpler target--how points are scored-- the bow and arrow--length of bow--the bow-string--the arrow-shafts --preparing arrow-heads--feathering--a quiver--proper position for shooting with bow--the indian's bow--how his arrows were made and feathered--the preparation of his arrow-heads. chapter xviii an outdoor gymnasium location for gymnasium--a horizontal bar--tumbling mat--parallel bars--the punching-bag platform--a pair of jump standards--a vaulting pole--a spring-board--hurdles--a running track--method of starting for short sprints--mark for broad jumping--an athletic club--athletic meets. chapter xix a back-yard circus the ancient roman circus--the circus of to-day--how several boys gave a circus--preparing the yard for a circus--making the ring-- good circus seats--a tent--decorating the tent--a ticket office-- a turnstile--the side show--cages for side show--animated animals --the elephant--the giraffe--the two-legged wild horse--the wild man of borneo--a monkey's make-up--the ring master--the clown's suit--the attendants--ideas for a performance--a slapper-- looping the hoop on a giraffe--a chariot--parades--the advertising signs. chapter xx suggestions for fourth of july the first fourth of july celebration--pyrotechnics costly and dangerous to make--the making of harmless and inexpensive fireworks--a fire-cracker cannon--to fire the cannon--a fire-cracker mortar--mimic battles with paper soldiers--another toy cannon--to fire the cannon--firing fireworks from kites--firing a pack of fire-crackers from a kite--shooting nigger-chasers--japanese lanterns hung from kite-strings--a shooting-torch--a final set-piece. chapter xxi halloween ancient superstitions and origin of halloween--a magazine bean-blower--a new style of tick-tack--a clockwork tick-tack-- the goblin-man--the disappearing rope. chapter xxii a back-yard toboggan-slide one advantage of a small slide--location--length--the platform-- framework--railing around platform--a ladder--making a swift slide--a home-made sled--the runners--reënforcing the runners. part iii _indoor pastimes_ chapter xxiii a miniature theatre an interesting entertainment--a picture-frame proscenium--the stage framework--the gridiron--the stage floor--the drop-curtain-- lighting the theatre--the footlights--floodlights--colored lights --spotlights--admission tickets and programmes. chapter xxiv scenery, properties, and mechanical effects materials for scenery--an ocean scene--additional waves--frames for drops--a mid-ocean scene--a seashore scene--a field scene-- the trees--a blockhouse scene--pine boughs for trees and shrubbery --moss for mounds and hills--rustic bridges--a pond or lake--a street scene--an interior--a war drama--paper soldiers--scheme for marching soldiers--separate standards--a jointed figure--stage properties--tents--an indian teepee--battleships--trains and wagons--mechanical effects--thunder--rain--wind--lightning-- the roar of cannon. chapter xxv making a toy railway the trolley-line--supports for trolley-line--power for operating railway--tracks--the cars--a gondola car--a street car--other cars--operation of railway--a station. chapter xxvi clockwork automobiles procuring a set of clockworks--an automobile touring-car--the frame--preparation of clockworks--the belt--testing the machine-- the cardboard sides--wheels--mud-guards--lamps--the steering-wheel --a horn--the brake--the chauffeur--painting the machine--an automobile delivery wagon--the cardboard sides--the wheels--other portions--painting the wagon--a clockwork railway. chapter xxvii work to do with a knife how boots were marked in a penitentiary--a home-made fountain pen-- the magic pin-wheel--to operate the pin-wheel--a wooden chain and rattle--the chain--the rattle--finishing the chain and rattle. chapter xxviii cork toys materials required--cork animals--a pig--a horse--the elephant --the giraffe--a porcupine--other animals--the korka-bird--a duck--canoes--small sail-boats--cork furniture--a chair--the sofa--a small tabouret--a toy log-cabin. chapter xxix definitions of terms and phrases index list of half-tone illustrations (in addition to more than four hundred text illustrations.) part i a boy's workshop _frontispiece_ opposite page treatment of a boy's room fig. .--a colonial doll-house fig. .--another style of doll-house} fig. .--interior view of doll-house} an amateur's outfit a group of amateur papers fig. .--a handy dark-room} fig. .--a washing-box and drying-rack} part ii in camp for the summer a boys' log-cabin two simple cabins caught at last the back-yard circus part iii a miniature theatre fig. .--a field scene } fig. .--a blockhouse scene} fig. .--a street scene fig. .--the car completed} fig. .--the framework } [illustration: boys at the bank.] [illustration: page decoration.] part i profitable pastimes chapter i a boy's workshop [illustration: boy with box-kite and boy at work-bench.] carpenter work should be encouraged in a boy from the time he first becomes interested in it, for besides being something with which to keep him busy, the experience gained by its practice will be useful to him all his life, no matter what branch of industry he may follow later on. when a boy has learned the proper care and use of tools, and is able to turn out neatly executed work, he will find the occupation a profitable one, there being an unlimited number of things he can make in his shop. doll-houses for girl relatives, toys for brothers and cousins, and articles for the household, such as are described in following chapters, are a few of the many things he can construct. many of these are salable articles, besides being suitable for birthday and christmas gifts, and should bring a neat sum of money to the young carpenter. a knowledge of carpenter work also develops in a boy a handiness for devising and putting together articles and apparatus for his own use. a boy should really have a shop where he can keep his tools and unfinished work with no danger of them being disturbed, and where he need not be afraid of littering the floor with shavings or of making too much noise. =the workshop= may be fitted up by the boy himself, and a suitable place can probably be found in the basement, barn, or woodshed. here a corner large enough to contain a work-bench, carpenter's horses, and tool-cabinets, besides plenty of room to work in, should be partitioned off, and a window that will admit a good supply of light made in one side of the room, if one has not already been provided. [illustration: fig. .--end view of work-bench.] =a solid work-bench=, six feet long, thirty inches wide, and thirty-two inches high, should be constructed beneath the window. it is a good idea to build this on to the wall if possible, as it is easier to make a solid bench by doing so, and the firmer it is, the better. first cut a two-by-four four feet long, and spike it to the wall below the window, twenty-eight inches above the floor. then saw two pieces of two-by-four, twenty-eight inches long, for the legs, and two pieces, thirty inches long, for crosspieces. spike the crosspieces on to the legs and on to the piece nailed to the wall, as shown in fig. . cut three ten-inch planks, six feet long, and spike them to the crosspieces so that they project twelve inches over the ends, but are flush with the framework in front. then cut a ten-inch board, six feet long, for an apron, and, after cutting the ends as shown in fig. , nail it across the front of the bench. [illustration: fig. .--iron bench-screw.] [illustration: fig. .--wooden bench-screw.] for fifty cents a fifteen-inch iron or wooden bench-screw, similar to those in figs. and , can be purchased at a hardware store, and the rest of =the vise= is simple to make. figures , , and show the details for this. take a board thirty inches long by six inches wide for the jaw, and bore a hole a little larger than the screw, six inches from one end. bore another hole the same size through the apron and table-leg, six inches below the bench-top (see _a_ in figs. and ). the portion of the iron screw marked _b_ in fig. should be set into the hole bored in the bench-leg and screwed at _e_ (fig. ), while the portion _d_ is to be screwed to the jaw. if a wooden screw is used, the portion _c_ in the drawing (fig. ) is nailed to the inside of the bench-leg. [illustration: fig. . fig. . details of bench-vise.] in order to guide the bottom of the jaw, an arrangement similar to _f_ in fig. should be made. make a mortise two inches long by one inch wide near the bottom of the bench-leg and cut a strip of wood fifteen inches long to fit loosely in it. then shut the vise and mark upon the inside of the jaw the place where the mortise comes in the leg. nail one end of the fifteen-inch strip to the jaw at this point, being careful to get it in such a position that the other end will slide into the mortise. bore several holes in the strip and cut a peg to fit in them. the jaw can now be kept parallel with the side of the bench by adjusting the peg, which is very necessary in order to have the vise grip a piece of work squarely. when you have a long board to work upon, it cannot be held steady by the vise alone. one end should be placed in the vise and the other rested upon a peg stuck in a hole bored in the side of the bench. for boards of different lengths, several holes should be bored, as shown in the illustration of the finished bench (see frontispiece), and a movable peg cut to fit in them. =a bench-stop= of some sort fastened to the top of the bench will be found useful to push work against while planing it, when it is not convenient to use the vise. figures , , and show the forms of stops most commonly used by carpenters. of these the metal stop shown in fig. is the most satisfactory, as it can be adjusted to different heights. it costs but little and is easily put in place. a mortise is made in the top of the bench to receive the lower portion of the stop, and the plate _a_ is set flush with the bench-top and held in place with screws driven into the holes in the corners. the centre of this plate (_b_) is detached from the rest and mounted upon a small post, which can be adjusted to the desired height by giving the screw at _c_ a few turns with the screw-driver. the teeth in the edge of _b_ help to hold the work in position. [illustration: fig. . fig. . fig. . some forms of bench-stops.] one of the simplest forms of stops is shown in fig. . it consists of two screws placed in the top of the bench, which can be raised or lowered with the screw-driver to the height you desire. the stop shown in fig. is made out of a block of wood with a "bird's mouth" cut in one side. it should be nailed to one end of the bench in such a position that the end of the work can be placed in the "bird's mouth." while most of your work will be done on the bench, and a good portion of sawing done with the wood in the vise, large pieces, especially long boards, are generally sawn while placed across horses. =two carpenter's horses= will be required. a good scheme for these is shown in fig. . the top is made out of a piece of two-by-four with bevelled mortises cut in two sides of each end as in fig. . these mortises are made to receive the legs, and the angle of the bevel will of course determine the angle at which the legs will spread. cut the legs out of four-inch boards, and bevel the lower ends to make them set solidly upon the floor. nail the legs firmly in place and brace them with two boards cut and fitted in place, as in the illustration. when the pieces have been nailed together, plane off the tops of the legs to make them flush with the top of the horse, and trim the lower ends if they require it until the horse is solid. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] boring, paring, and nailing on the bench will soon make the surface uneven, unless something is placed beneath the work during such operations. you should therefore make and use =a bench-hook=, such as shown in fig. . a good size is ten by twelve inches, but it may be made larger or smaller if desired. nail a strip along one edge of the under face and another strip along the opposite edge of the upper face. the latter strip should have three kerfs cut in it as shown in the drawing, one at right angles and the other two at forty-five degrees. these may be laid off with a try-square, as shown in figs. and (chapter ii), or with the bevel, as shown in fig. . be careful to keep the saw on the line and in a perfectly perpendicular position in making these kerfs. the upper strip on the bench-hook serves the purpose of a stop, and the kerfs make it possible to use the bench-hook for mitring with the back-saw. further description of the uses of this handy article will be found in the following chapter. [illustration: fig. .--a bench-hook.] [illustration: fig. .--a mitre-box.] you will need =a mitre-box= for cutting mitres in large work, and this may be made as shown in fig. . cut two pieces of seven-eighths inch maple, or other hard wood, twenty inches long by six inches wide, and one piece twenty inches long by four inches wide. nail the six-inch pieces to the edges of the four-inch piece as shown in the drawing, after which you are ready to cut the mitres. these should be laid out similar to those on the bench-hook, by means of the mitred try-square or the bevel. with the blade of the try-square or bevel extending across the top edges of the side-pieces, mark off forty-five degree lines at _a_ and _b_, and a ninety degree line at _c_, after which square the lines down both inner and outer face of the side-pieces. when the lines have been accurately drawn, it is a simple matter to make the kerfs, if you have had any practice in sawing and can keep to a line. no matter how skilful a carpenter is with his tools, he generally depends upon his mitre-box in making mitres, for not only accuracy is obtained by its use, but time is also saved. in using one be careful not to let the saw cut into the sides of the kerfs, or the box will soon be rendered useless for making accurate mitres. [illustration: fig. .--sand-paper block.] before putting the finish upon a piece of work, the wood should be thoroughly sand-papered. in many cases certain portions cannot be reached by the hand, and so =a sand-paper block= similar to fig. should be made. cut a block of wood five inches long, two and one-half inches wide, and seven-eighths of an inch thick. then place it in the vise, and bevel one end and round the other as shown in the drawing. an inch and one-half from each end cut "rabbets" one inch wide across the block, and make two blocks to fit them. when this has been done, cut a strip of sand-paper two and one-half inches wide and stretch it around the block, holding it in place by driving the small blocks into the rabbets. you will find this sand-paper block very handy, as some portion of it can be got into almost every corner you will ever have occasion to sand-paper. the paper may be quickly replaced with a fresh piece when worn out. =a strop= for putting keen edges on tools may be made out of a block of wood, with a piece of shoe-leather, or section of an old razor-strop, glued to one side of it. =a plumb=, similar to fig. , is a handy article to have for outdoor work, such as erecting posts in perpendicular positions. you will have need of it in putting up such buildings as the back-yard club-house, the log-cabin, and the erection of apparatus for the outdoor gymnasium, the construction of which will be found in following chapters. it consists of a stick, the sides of which have been planed up true and parallel, with a notch in one end and a cord with a weight attached fastened to the other end. the notch should be cut in the exact centre of the end of the stick, and the nail placed in the other end directly in line with the centre of the notch. an iron nut, or some such weight, should be attached to the lower end of the cord. by placing this stick at the side of an object, you can determine whether or not it is plumb by the position of the string, which should hang in the centre of the notch when the object is plumb. the length of the stick may be made to suit the size of the work it is to be used upon. four or five feet is a good length for ordinary outside work. [illustration: fig. .] =in purchasing tools= for your workshop it is not advisable to buy them in chests, for they are almost always made of cheap material, and poor tools are of no use to the boy who intends to do good work. it is a much better plan to buy a few tools at a time, getting a good quality of steel, and to gradually increase your outfit as your money permits. then if you really want a chest you can make it yourself. a hatchet, hammer, saw, plane, chisel, jack-knife, bit and bit-stock, screw-driver, and square are the principal tools you will require, and need be all you have to start out with. others may be got as you have need of them, and may be selected from the following list, which includes probably all the tools a boy would ever have occasion to use. =list of tools from which to make your selections= -inch jack-plane. -inch fore-plane. -inch smoothing-plane. -inch rip-saw. -inch cross-cut saw. -inch back-saw. -inch compass-saw. gig-or bracket-saw. ratchet brace. auger-bits, / -inch, / -inch, / -inch, / -inch, and -inch. expansive-bit. several gimlet bits. screw-driver bit. countersink. brad-awl. hand gimlets. automatic-drill. chisels, / -inch, / -inch, / -inch, and -inch. gouges, / -inch and / -inch. draw-knife. jack-knife. hatchet. hammer. tack hammer. mallet. nail-sets (large and small). hand screw-driver. wood rasp. metal file. pair cutting nippers. pair pincers. grind-stone. oil-stone and oil-can. strop. -foot folding rule. large steel square. -inch try-square. bevel. marking-gauge. compass. the proper care and handling of these tools is fully described and illustrated in the following chapter. these directions should be carefully read before you attempt to use the tools, especially the edge tools. =a cabinet= will be found much better for an outfit of tools than a tool-chest, as it can be more easily got at than a chest, where it is necessary to lift several trays before you can reach a tool which has been put in the bottom. [illustration: fig. .--tool-cabinet.] the cabinet shown in fig. is made out of a box about three feet long, two feet wide, and nine inches deep. make a door from the box-cover, fastening the boards together by means of two battens placed at the top and bottom (see illustration). nail a cleat on each side of the cabinet six inches from the bottom, and make a shelf to fit upon them. =racks for bits and chisels= should be made similar to fig. , and fastened side by side to the inside of the cabinet. cut a strip of wood about the size of the battens, and make two slots in it, one for the end of the saw to fit in and the other for the blade of the try-square (see fig. ). this strip is fastened to the cabinet door a few inches above the bottom batten. [illustration: fig. .--bit and chisel racks.] hang up the other tools on brass hooks. after completing the cabinet, paint it inside and out, and fasten either a hook or lock to the door. when this cabinet becomes too small for your increase in tools, you can keep those you use the most in it, and make =another cabinet= for the special and less used tools. either screw the cabinets to the wall or support them upon brackets. =racks= may be made for any tools you wish to hang on the wall. a piece of grooved siding nailed above the bench will do nicely for the large square. when you do outside work you will want something in which to carry such tools as will be required to complete the job. [illustration: fig. .--a carpenter's carrying-box.] =a carpenter's carrying-box= should be made. such a box is shown in fig. . the box should be about twenty-seven inches long to accommodate the saws, and it would be well to make the width eight inches and the height sixteen inches. first prepare the end-pieces, making them six by sixteen inches and rounding the tops with the compass-saw, as shown in the illustration. then cut a board twenty-five inches long by six inches wide for the bottom and nail the end-pieces to the ends of it. make the side-pieces twenty-seven by eight inches, and nail them to the end-pieces and to the edges of the bottom board. the handle consists of a broom-stick fitted into holes bored near the tops of the end-pieces. this box should be used for tools only, and not have nails, screws, and bolts mixed up with them, for these supplies should be kept in a special =nail-box=, with compartments for the different sizes of nails, screws, hooks, screw-eyes, hinges, etc. one of the best kinds of boxes for this purpose is a knife-box such as can be bought for ten or fifteen cents. this is divided in two and has a handle attached (see fig. ). the two compartments should be sub-divided into smaller boxes, either with pieces of cigar-boxes, or with pieces of tin bent at the ends and fastened to the sides of the box, as shown in the illustration. [illustration: fig. .--nail-box.] =supplies= of nails, brads, etc., should be kept in cans and cigar-boxes of different sizes, and it is a good idea to letter these receptacles that you may be able to put your hands upon what you want without having to hunt for it. =shelves= will be handy to keep paint-cans and these boxes on. =workshop clothes=.--old clothes should be worn in the shop, as carpenter work is rather hard upon them, especially the trousers. better than these is a pair of overalls and perhaps a jumper. they are easy to work in and wear better than anything else. =a few hooks= should be placed on the wall for hats and coats, and for your working clothes, if you change them in the shop before and after work. to prevent your tools from being carried off, and your work from being disturbed, it is advisable to have a lock upon the door and keep your shop locked up when you are away. to avoid danger of fire, keep combustible articles, such as oily waste and rags, in covered tin cans, and do not allow shavings and rubbish to accumulate. chapter ii the proper handling of tools [illustration: boy at grind-stone and boy with bit-stock.] before using a tool be sure you understand the proper handling of it, for there is probably nothing more easily injured than an edge tool in a sharpened condition. an inexperienced person is very apt to dull or nick a tool by striking its edge against nails or by using it for purposes other than what it was made for. for this reason a carpenter is very apt to refuse a boy, or any amateur for that matter, the use of his tools, and he is right in doing so. just imagine the amount of work it makes for him to put the tools in shape after they have been returned in all sorts of conditions. a little rubbing on the oil-stone, with an occasional grinding, is all his tools require when he is using them, but to remove nicks made by his young friends wastes too much of his valuable time. a good rule to observe, boys, is never to lend tools to any of your friends, for though they may be as careful in handling them as you are, the chances are they will not be. you had better be a little "grouchy" in this respect, than to have tools which are unfit to do good work with. the following directions, together with the illustrations, should make the handling of your tools perfectly clear, and you will find among these a number of hints as to the care of tools that should be carefully adhered to in order that you may keep them in good condition. =saws.=--a boy can get along with two saws, a cross-cut saw for general use and a compass-saw for finer work, such as circular sawing, and cutting thin wood where a large saw would be too coarse and apt to split the work. but you will often have need of a rip-saw, back-saw, and bracket-saw. they were therefore included in the list of tools on page , and you can add them to your outfit as your money permits. =the cross-cut saw= is, of course, intended for cutting across the grain, while the rip-saw is for cutting with the grain, or ripping. the former saw can be used for rip-sawing, but the operation is much slower, and when you have much of it to do, as in ripping a six-foot board, for instance, you will find the work tedious. =the rip-saw= is not fit for cross-cutting, as it leaves the cut fibres in a very rough condition. the difference in these two saws lies in the shape of their teeth. this can be seen by picking them up and examining their cutting edges. you will find the teeth are bent out of line, the first to the right side and the next to the left. this is known as the "set" of the teeth, and the quality of your work will depend largely upon the care with which the teeth have been sharpened and set. at first you may confuse these two saws, but if you will notice that the teeth of the cross-cut saw come to sharp points and are bevelled on the sides, while those of the rip-saw are not sharpened on the sides, and instead of being pointed on the ends are chisel-shaped (see figs. and ), you will have little trouble in distinguishing them. [illustration: fig. .--teeth of cross-cut saw.] [illustration: fig. .--teeth of rip saw.] [illustration: fig. .--position for sawing. fig. .] =sawing.=--small pieces may be sawn while held in the vise, but, as a rule, large work is placed across a couple of horses. it is generally the most convenient way. grasp the saw in the right hand, and take the position shown in fig. , with the left knee upon the work to hold it in place, and the left hand at the edge of the board. the thumb should be pressed against the saw-blade to guide it until the cut has been well started, as shown in fig. . without the aid of the thumb the saw is liable to slip off the mark and make an ugly cut in the wood. first use a few short strokes until the saw has started to cut. then use a long, steady stroke, putting all of the pressure upon the down stroke. be careful to keep the saw to the line and in a perpendicular position, so that the cut will be square on all sides. if it starts to run away from the line, a slight twist of the blade will return it. when a board has been sawn nearly in two, remove the weight of your knee from it, and hold the board with the left hand to prevent it from splitting off. [illustration: fig. .--position for using the back-saw.] fig. shows the correct position for using =the back-saw=, which is intended for more delicate work than the larger saw, such as can be sawn on the bench-hook or in the mitre-box. it makes a finer cut, its teeth being smaller and more closely set. the blades of =the compass-and gig-saws= are small and narrow, the former being used for circular cutting, as the name would imply, while the latter is employed in cutting very thin wood and in making delicate curves. the blades of these saws, especially the latter, are easily broken, and must be handled with care. the teeth are arranged so as to cut with and against the grain. the slot made by removing the fibre of the wood in sawing is known as =a kerf=. the term is used a good deal in carpenter work, so it is well to know its meaning. the carpenter of to-day is generally supplied with all manner of planes,--rabbeting-planes, beading-planes, circular-planes, ploughs, etc.,--besides the more commonly used jack-plane, fore-plane, and smoothing-plane. each of these planes has a special form of work to do, but ordinarily a boy will have occasion to use but the last three named, and many get along with but a jack-and a smoothing-plane. =the jack-plane= is the plane you will first need to remove the rough surface of undressed lumber, and also to reduce quickly the thickness of wood. the cutting edge of the blade is ground so as to gouge the wood, removing thick shavings, but leaving ridges and hollows which must afterward be removed by a fore-plane or smoothing-plane. there is one trouble in using the smoothing-plane for this operation, however, and that lies in the danger of it following the hollows formed by the jack-plane, making a smooth but uneven surface. =the fore-plane=, on the other hand, has a long enough stock to prevent the blade from cutting the lower portions until the high portions have been removed. although a fore-plane can be used alone for smoothing large work, it is more convenient to finish up with =the smoothing-plane=. the stanley iron plane, shown in fig. , is a great improvement over the old-style wooden ones, and is the most popular plane used to-day. it is more easily handled, as its iron is quickly put in place and adjusted. the illustration gives the names of the various parts. the cap (_b_) is screwed to the plane-iron (_a_), and both are held in the stock (_f_) by means of the clamp on the end of the wedge (_c_). the thumb-screw (_d_) regulates the degrees of fineness of the plane-iron, while the lever (_e_), which moves from side to side, straightens the position of the iron. the base of the stock is known as the sole, or face. [illustration: fig. .--stanley iron plane. _a._ plane-iron. _b._ plane-iron cap. _c._ wedge or clamp. _d._ adjusting screw. _e._ adjusting lever. _f._ stock.] the bailey plane is somewhat similar to the stanley, the upper portion being of iron with screw adjustment, but the base being of wood. its cost is much less than that of the entire iron plane, and you will probably find it as satisfactory if you do not care to spend the additional amount for the stanley plane. =for planing=, take the position shown in fig. , with the left foot a little in advance of the right, the right hand grasping the handle of the plane and the left holding the knob on the fore part of the stock. use a long, steady sweep, and bear with equal pressure from the beginning of a stroke to the end, to avoid the hollows that are so easily made by taking shavings of different thicknesses. do not drag the plane-iron over the work in returning it for another stroke, as it will dull its edge. you will often come across wood with a crooked grain, which runs diagonally through the piece, terminating at the surface. there is a right way and a wrong way in planing this, just as there are two ways of stroking a cat's back, one smoothing the surface, while the other roughens it. when you find a piece of wood with this kind of uncertain grain, you will probably have to change the direction of your planing a number of times before finishing the surface, in order to plane with the grain. [illustration: fig. .--take this position for planing.] in planing end-wood, you will have trouble in preventing the corners of the piece from splitting off unless it is placed in the vise in front of another block of wood, the planing being done toward the block. or one corner may be chamfered with the chisel, as shown in fig. . =testing work.=--it is necessary to test work frequently while planing, in order to locate the high places and avoid taking off too much on the low places. this may be done by squinting one eye and holding the board on a level with the other eye, so that you can look down the length of it as in sighting a gun. the uneven places show up very plainly in this way. work is also tested by means of the try-square. place the handle of the square against the edge of the work with the blade of the square extending across the planed surface, and move it the length of the board. any irregularities in the surface will show themselves as the blade passes over them. in planing up a block of wood, plane up one side and, after proving it to be true, use it for the "tried edge," testing the other sides with the handle of the square pressed against its surface. there are a number of forms of =chisels=, but the only two classes you will probably ever be in need of are the firmer-and framing-chisels. the former are intended for hand use only, while the latter are used for heavier work, such as mortising, where it becomes necessary to use the mallet. =in using a firmer-chisel=, the work should be placed in the vise or be otherwise held in position, that both hands may be kept upon the tool, the right hand grasping the upper end of the handle and doing the pushing, while the left hand holds the lower part of the handle and acts as a guide in working it. =paring= with the chisel consists in trimming a piece of wood to a given line. it is an operation very often resorted to in finishing the end of a piece of work instead of planing, and in trimming up a curved edge such as is shown in fig. . here the line _ab_ represents the line of the finished end of a piece of work. the board is first placed in a vise and the wood removed to about one-quarter inch of _ab_ with a compass-saw, following the curve of the line as nearly as possible. then lay the piece upon the bench-hook (fig. , chap. i), and pare to the line with the chisel, as shown in fig. . [illustration: figs. and .--paring.] the chisel is often used to pare down the surface of a piece of work to a given line, as shown in fig. . =the framing-chisel= should be held in the left hand, and the blows dealt upon the handle with the mallet in the right hand. in handling the framing-chisel the bevel of the blade should be toward the work, which is just the opposite from that shown in figs. and . unless this is done the chisel will not cut down squarely but will cut in under, as it cannot be guided as easily as the firmer-chisel can, with both hands to hold it. =chamfering and bevelling= are somewhat similar operations. they consist in cutting the edges of a piece of wood, as shown in figs. and . [illustration: fig. .--bevel.] [illustration: fig. .--chamfering.] the corner of a block of wood is very often chamfered, when planing end-wood, to prevent the wood from splintering. it can only be done, of course, before the adjoining side has been planed up, that a square corner can be obtained again when the work is finished. =the gouge= is a chisel with a curved section, its use being for cutting grooves and curvatures in a piece of work where the chisel cannot be employed. =a draw-knife= is very handy for quickly reducing the size of material and in rounding sticks. the blade is drawn toward you instead of being pushed as in the case of a plane or chisel. =boring.=--probably the only trouble you will have with the bit and bit-stock will be in holding the brace in a perfectly vertical position so as to bore a straight hole. the centre of the hole should first be located upon the work. then, after selecting the right size of bit and securing it in the clutches of the bit-stock, grasp the handle of the stock with the right hand and place the left hand on the top knob. set the point of the bit against the work and bore steadily until the point appears upon the opposite side. the bit should then be withdrawn and the rest of the hole bored from the other side. this prevents the fibre around the hole from splintering off, as it is likely to do when a hole is bored all the way through from one side. to bore a hole in a piece of work held in the vise, clamp a waste piece of wood in the vise with it, and bore straight through the work into the waste piece. when boring hard wood or using large bits increased pressure is necessary to operate the brace and at the same time steady the bit. this can be obtained by allowing the chest to bear upon the top knob. holes two inches or more in diameter do not require a bit that size, for smaller holes can be bored and these trimmed to the required opening with a chisel or with the keyhole-saw. whatever style of bit-stock you buy, get one with a fair length of arm, as a good leverage cannot be obtained with a short one. =an automatic-drill= is a handy tool to have in the shop, although not a necessity. you have probably seen carpenters use it in drilling holes in hard wood, before driving in finishing nails or screws. it beats the awl and gimlet for speed, and is a tool which can be used in places where neither of these could be operated. the handle of the tool contains a number of sizes of drills. this tool must be used with care, as the drills snap off very easily when the tool is handled roughly or twisted from side to side while boring a hole. =the hatchet= is an indispensable tool, for it can be used for a good deal of your rough work, such as splitting and paring. it requires practice to handle one successfully, however. a misplaced blow will sometimes ruin your work, either by cutting into it or striking grain which runs off into the portion to be finished. with straight grained wood it is not so difficult to pare to a line with the hatchet. the wood should be removed to within less than an eighth of an inch of the line, as the work must be dressed up afterward with the plane. it is well to have =a hammer= with a fairly heavy head for large work, and a lighter one with which to drive small nails. =driving nails.=--the nail should first be held in position with the thumb and first two fingers, and given a few light raps with the hammer to start it. then remove the fingers, and drive the nail home with steady blows, being careful to hit the head squarely so it will not bend. although a bent nail can be driven home with the proper stroke, it is generally easier and quicker to withdraw it and either hammer it out straight or use another. a pair of pincers are handy for =withdrawing nails=, especially nails whose heads are too small to be gripped with a claw hammer; but for removing large nails a stronger leverage is necessary. this can be obtained as shown in fig. . the head of the nail is gripped in the claw of the hammer and a block of wood placed beneath the head. the handle of the hammer is then pulled toward you, as shown in the illustration. the block, besides increasing the leverage, prevents the hammer-head from injuring the surface of your work, and makes it possible to withdraw the nail in a fairly straight condition. [illustration: fig. .--withdrawing nails.] [illustration: fig. .--toe-nailing.] =toe-nailing= consists in driving nails diagonally into a piece of wood. it is used in fastening the ends of uprights, as shown in fig. , where the nails cannot be driven in any other way, and also where there is danger of a board springing. you will often find it convenient to use this form of nailing when the nails are too long to be driven straight into the work. =blind-nailing= is a form of toe-nailing used on tongue and grooved boards in which the heads of the nails are concealed below the surface, as shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--blind-nailing.] =clinching.=--when nails come through a piece of wood their ends should be clinched. this is done by having some one hold a hard surface, such as the head or blade of a hatchet, against the under side of the work, or by laying the hatchet down and resting the work upon it, while you drive the nail. the point of the nail will bend over when it strikes the hard surface and sink into the wood. this is the best method to use in fastening boards together with battens, in rough work, as the clinched nails act as rivets, preventing any possibility of the boards pulling apart. do not drive the head of a nail into a finished surface with the hammer, as you are likely to mar the wood in doing so. leave this--the "setting" of the nails--until the piece of work has been put together. then go over it and drive the heads below the surface with =the nail-set=, holding the tool as shown in fig. . the holes made by the heads should be filled up with putty before the finish is put upon the wood. before driving nails into hard wood, holes should be made with the brad-awl or drill, to prevent them from splitting the wood, and to make it easier to drive them in without bending. the holes should be a trifle smaller than the nails. always drill a hole before driving a nail into thin wood or near the edge of a piece. a nail can be driven more easily if its point is rubbed over a piece of soap. this is something you should remember to do when nailing hard wood. =nails.=--iron, galvanized-iron, wire, and copper nails are manufactured, but of these the wire nail is the most commonly used for all kinds of work, it being more easily handled, not so liable to snap off, and there being less danger of splitting your work with it than with the iron nails. [illustration: fig. .--setting nails.] you will notice the iron nails have two smooth sides and two rough ones. in using these it is necessary to drive them with the smooth sides parallel with the grain, otherwise they are sure to split the work. nails are classified according to their shape and gauge. the only kinds you will probably ever have occasion to use are the common, or nail for all ordinary work; the finishing-nail, with the small head used on finish work; and the brad, or small-sized finishing-nail. you can buy these by calling for the length you require, but it is more businesslike to use the standard terms by which all carpenters know them. the following table gives these terms, together with the length in inches:-- -penny nails ( inch long). " " ( - / inches long). " " ( - / " " ). " " ( - / " " ). " " ( " " ). " " ( - / " " ). " " ( - / " " ). " " ( - / " " ). " " ( " " ). " " ( - / " " ). " " ( - / " " ). " " ( " " ). " " ( - / " " ). " " ( " " ). " " ( - / " " ). " " ( " " ). all nails longer than three and a half inches ( d to d inclusive) are known as spikes. it is desirable to have =a screw-driver= which will set in the clutches of your bit-stock, besides the ordinary kind, for it is more quickly operated, and screws can be driven in hard wood easier on account of the greater amount of leverage you get with it. holes should be drilled in hard wood before driving screws into it. =screws= are made with round and flat heads. the round-headed screw is a finishing screw, and its head is left exposed on the surface of the wood; but the flat-headed screw should be countersunk, that is, sunk below the surface. to do this you must drill a hole before driving in the screw with =the countersink=, which is a drill made to fit in the bit-stock, and bores a hole the shape and depth of the screw-head. sharpening tools be sure you understand the process of sharpening tools before you undertake to use the oil-and grind-stones. all tools are not sharpened alike, and you will need to know the different ways in order to get their cutting edges the right shape to serve their different purposes. =grinding= is the most difficult part of the work, and most boys have trouble with it. one fault lies in using the grind-stone too frequently, grinding the edge of a tool when it requires only a little rubbing upon the oil-stone to put it in shape, and thus wearing down the tool unnecessarily. again, by not keeping the stone sufficiently wet, the heat produced by the friction takes the temper out of the steel, making it soft and useless until retempered. if you have a stone with a crank arrangement, it will be necessary to have some one turn it while you control the tool. the stone should be turned toward the grinder and the tools held upward so the stone grinds against the edge instead of from it. move the tools sideways across the stone so as to wear it down evenly and help prevent the formation of ridges in the stone, which are very easily produced. [illustration: fig. .--grinding the chisel.] figure shows the position to take in grinding =chisels=. hold the handle of the tool in the right hand and rest the palm of the left hand upon its blade. then lower the edge upon the stone until the bevel strikes it flatly, and bear down upon the blade with your left hand. continue the grinding until the bright line of the dull edge has disappeared and an invisible edge has been obtained. stop when this point is reached or the edge will become feathery and break off, necessitating regrinding. grind upon the bevelled edge only, and hold the tool in the same relative position, to prevent the bevel from becoming rounded. the angle of the bevel should be about twenty-five degrees. to keep this angle the same, it is desirable to have a rest, consisting of a board nailed to the frame of the stone, upon which to support the handle of the chisel. =gouges and draw-knives= are ground similarly, the former being rocked from side to side, in order to grind the curved bevel uniformly. =plane-irons= are held with both hands, as shown in fig. , and ground the same, except that the corners of the smoothing-and fore-plane irons are slightly rounded, while the edge of the jack-plane iron is a little higher at the corners than in the centre, to give it the qualities for removing thick shavings. it is more difficult to keep the line between the bevel and upper part of the iron straight than in grinding chisels, on account of the wider blade. [illustration: fig. .--grinding the plane-iron.] =knives and hatchets= are ground upon both sides of the blade. of course, the edge of a tool is left in a very rough condition by the grind-stone, and must be rubbed up on an oil-stone before it is fit to cut with. there are many makes of whetstones, many good ones and many worthless ones. above all things, don't buy a cheap one, for it will be impossible to obtain keen edges upon it. one of the best stones upon the market is =the washita oil-stone=, a kansas stone of medium hardness, free from grit and lumps, and of good quality through and through. [illustration: fig. .--whetting a plane-iron. fig. .] in rubbing up a plane-iron, grasp the end between the thumb and fingers of the right hand and place the palm of the left hand across the iron to bring the necessary pressure upon it (see fig. ). instead of holding the blade on the stone at the angle of the bevel, tip it to an angle of about thirty-five degrees, or ten degrees more than that of the bevel. with it held in this position, rub it back and forth upon the stone with a rotary motion, making a second narrow bevel along the edge of the tool (see fig. ). be careful to keep the blade in the same position, to prevent the bevels from becoming rounded. by exerting a steady upward pressure against the end of the tool with the right hand, and an equal downward pressure in the centre of the blade with the left hand, this is easily accomplished. the rough edge which appears on the back of the blade is removed by rubbing the flat side of the iron over the stone a few times. care must be taken to keep the iron perfectly flat or a bevel will be formed. =a strop=, consisting of a piece of leather fastened to a block of wood as described in the foregoing chapter, should be used after the oil-stone, to put a fine edge upon the tool. the tool is stropped in the same way as a razor is done. =saws= require sharpening but once in a great while if proper care is taken of them. when they do become dull, or need to be set, it is advisable for you to pay an experienced person to do the work rather than attempt it yourself. laying out work a two-foot carpenter's folding rule should generally be used in laying off measurements and a sharp-pointed pencil or brad-awl to locate the points. to connect the points it is necessary to have a straight-edge--a steel framing-square (fig. ) for large boards and a small try-square (fig. ) for smaller pieces--and a pencil or knife. [illustration: figs. - .] a pencil may be used in connecting points upon rough work, but for greater accuracy a knife should be used, as it makes a thinner and cleaner-cut line. in making knife lines, the square must be held very firmly, to prevent it from slipping and allowing the knife to run out of its course. to draw lines across a board at right angles to one edge (which should be the straight or "tried edge" of the board) with the steel-square, place one arm of the square parallel with the tried edge and mark along the other arm. to perform the same operation with the try-square, place the handle against the tried edge, as shown in fig. . oftentimes it becomes necessary to draw a line parallel to the tried edge. this may be done roughly with the rule and pencil, as shown in fig. . grasp the rule in the left hand, with the first finger touching the tried edge of the board, and hold the pencil point against the end of the rule with the right hand. keeping this position, with a steady hold on the rule and pencil, move your hands along the board. the result will be a line parallel to the tried edge. [illustration: fig. .--gauging with rule and pencil.] at first you may have trouble in making a straight line, but with practice you will be able to hold the rule and pencil steadily. for particular work, where it is necessary to get a perfectly straight and parallel line, =a marking-gauge= should be used. this is nothing more than the above principles combined in a tool. it consists of a graduated shaft, or rule, with a small needle or spur in one end, which slides through a mortise made in a block of wood known as the head. [illustration: fig. .--using the marking-gauge.] to operate the gauge, set the adjustable head at the required division on the shaft, and then grasp the head and shaft with the fingers of the right hand, as shown in fig. . place the outer face of the head against the tried edge of your work, and then, pressing the spur into the wood, move the gauge along the board, at the same time keeping the face of the head firmly against the edge of the board. the gauge is much more convenient than the other method of drawing parallel lines, for you can repeat the measurement as often as you wish, having once adjusted the head, without having to lay it off again. =a try-square= with a mitred handle costs but little more than the ordinary make, and is much handier, inasmuch as it can be employed in making mitres, by placing the bevelled end against the side of the work instead of the straight side (see figs. and ). [illustration: fig. .] =the bevel= is in reality a try-square which can be adjusted to any desired angle. to set it at an angle of forty-five degrees, place it on the steel-square, as shown in fig. , with the handle against the inner edge of one arm of the square and the blade resting on both arms. move the blade until it strikes equal distances on the arms (this is shown at four inches in the drawing) and tighten the screw while it is in this position. other angles may be drawn out upon a piece of wood and the bevel adjusted to them so these angles can be laid off upon other pieces. you will find the bevel handy for reproducing angles. however, if you are supplied with a mitred try-square you can easily dispense with it for ordinary work. there will be times when you wish =to divide a board= into a number of equal parts, which may be found to be fractions of an inch that cannot be easily laid off with the rule in the ordinary way. it can be accomplished with a pair of compasses, but until you become practised in their use, it will take some little time in setting them, dividing, resetting, and redividing, until the exact divisor is obtained. a much quicker method is that performed with the rule, as shown in fig. . suppose you wish to divide a board four and three-quarters inches long into five equal parts. place your rule across the board, as shown in the illustration, one end at one edge and the "five-inch" division at the opposite edge. mark off the five divisions and then square the lines across the board at these points with the try-square. this will give you the required five equal parts. [illustration: fig. .--dividing a board equally.] in the same way longer boards may be divided up by using two-and three-inch divisions on the rule instead of one-inch, and smaller pieces by using half-and quarter-inch divisions. chapter iii the boy about the house [illustration: boy with carrying-box, mother in kitchen.] there are generally repairs of some kind to be made about the house--such as mending screens, renewing window-ropes, repairing wooden walks, patching fences, etc.--which a boy can do, besides many ingenious articles for the house which he can make in his workshop. ideas for labor-saving devices which cannot be bought upon the market present themselves now and then, and if there is a boy in the neighborhood to carry them out, the housekeeper will be only too glad to pay him for doing the work. for general jobbing you will require a carpenter's carrying-box (fig. , chap. i) in which to carry your tools, and a nail-box (fig. ) for nails, screws, hinges, and such hardware as you will need upon the job. with these you will have a complete outfit. a few suggestions as to what you can do and what you can make are described and illustrated in this chapter, and should give you plenty of material to work upon when you open up your carpenter-shop. besides these ideas, you will find most of the articles in the following chapter suitable for the house and pieces of furniture for which it will be easy to secure orders. =the hinge-lock=, in fig. , is one of the most serviceable window-locks that can be had, for it can be so placed as to allow the window to be opened a few inches for ventilation, and at the same time prevent further opening. the hinge is screwed to the upper sash-frame several inches above the centre sash-bar, according to the distance the window is to be opened (see illustration). it will be seen that when the hinge is opened, as in the drawing, neither sash can be opened past the hinge; but when the hinge is folded flat it will not interfere with the opening of either sash. [illustration: fig. .--the hinge window lock.] this lock would probably be more extensively used if people knew how simple and satisfactory it is. as the hinges cost but a few cents a pair, and are put on very quickly, a boy should realize a fair sum of money in a short time supplying these locks. =a clothes-line reel=, such as shown in fig. , is an article no housekeeper should be without. its use does away with twisted, tangled, and knotted clothes-lines. as they require but little material, and the cost of that amounts to almost nothing, the manufacture of these time-saving devices, for the neighbors, should prove profitable. [illustration: fig. .--a clothes-line reel.] the reel consists of two strips of wood sixteen inches long by three inches wide for the sides, and two pieces of broom-handles sixteen inches long for the horizontal rods (see fig. ). five inches from each end of the side-pieces, bore a hole the size of the broom-handle. with the pieces thus prepared it is a simple matter to fit them together, as in the illustration, placing the broom-handles in the holes bored for them, and fastening them so the side-pieces are nine inches apart and a handle five inches long projects on either side. it is probably needless to say that the ends of the broom-sticks are held in the hands when operating the reel. [illustration: fig. .--broom and dust-pan rack.] =a broom and dust-pan rack= is a handy article for the kitchen or broom-closet, and can be made as shown in fig. . a rack to hold a large and small broom, dust-pan, and brush, should measure three feet long, three inches wide, and be made out of a seven-eighths-inch board. bevel the edges and place four brass hooks in the front, as shown in the drawing, from which to hang the broom, dust-pan, etc. brooms should always be dampened and put away, handle down, according to the advice of an old broom-maker, who claims that by so doing the straws are kept from becoming brittle and the broom lasts much longer. the brooms should therefore have screw-eyes placed in the handle, just above the tin binding, to hang upon the hooks, as shown in the illustration. the rack should be screwed to the wall. [illustration: fig. .--a fly-killer.] fly-papers and poisons are deadly enemies to the house-fly, but none are as effectual or as quick acting as =the fly-killer=, shown in fig. . this simple device consists of a piece of screen-wire, about four by five inches, stuck into a slot made in the end of a stick, and fastened in place with tacks driven through the end of the handle and clinched upon the under side. if possible, cut the wire with a selvage along the front edge, and trim the roughness from the other edges to prevent scratching. the fly-killer is hung up by a screw-eye placed in the end of the handle. [illustration: fig. .--an ash-sifter.] with the fly-killer a person can strike at a fly with almost a certainty of killing it. as the screen-wire is not easily seen by the fly, and the mesh allows the air to pass through, there is nothing to alarm him. these little things are quickly made, and when you show your customer how effective they are, you will find no trouble in disposing of them. =an ash-sifter= that is dust-proof and very satisfactory is shown in fig. . it is made out of a packing-case about three feet long, eighteen inches wide, and twenty-four inches deep. set the box upon two-by-four stilts in the shed or yard (braced as shown in the illustration), in such a position that the bottom of the box will be on a level with the top of the alley ash-box. then cut an opening through the shed wall and end of the box, as shown at _ab_, for the removal of ashes. two strips are nailed to the sides of the box (seven inches below the top) for tracks for the sifter to run upon, and below this, at _c_, a board slide is placed to dump the ashes, which shake through the sifter, out of the opening in the end of the box into the ash-box. nail one half of the cover to the top of the box and hinge the other half to it. [illustration: fig. .--the sifter.] make the sifter eighteen inches square by six inches deep, using six-inch boards for the frame and one-third or one-half inch wire-mesh for the bottom (see fig. ) fasten four trunk-casters, such as are shown in fig. , to the bottom of the frame, and fit a broom-stick in one side for a handle. a slot must be cut in the end of the box for the handle to fit in. [illustration: fig. . trunk-caster.] =a bread-board= may be made out of a seven-eighths inch maple board about ten by eighteen inches, with the surface planed perfectly smooth and the edges bevelled or rounded. a hole should be bored near one edge, so it may be hung up in the pantry. the dining-room is not complete without =a plate-rack= for the display of pretty pieces of china. figures and show the details for the construction of a rack of three shelves, and in size three feet long and two feet ten inches high. although the design is very simple in outline, it is such as will make a pleasing piece of furniture when neatly carried out. [illustration: fig. .--a plate-rack.] prepare the two side-pieces the shape and size shown in fig. , and cut the shelves two feet ten inches long by the widths given in the drawing (fig. ). one groove should be made in shelf _a_ and two in shelves _b_ and _c_, for the edges of plates to stand in. these grooves are cut with a chisel, and should be made v-shaped as shown. narrow strips of wood may be nailed along the shelves as substitutes for the grooves if you wish, but the work required to plane up the strips will amount to about as much, and they do not present as neat an appearance. [illustration: fig. .] having cut out the shelves and side-pieces, you are ready to put the rack together. for this purpose you should use finishing-nails so their heads will not make very large holes in the surface of the wood. fasten the bottom shelf (_c_) between the side-pieces seven inches above the bottom, the middle shelf (_b_) ten inches above that, and the top shelf (_a_) nine inches above the middle shelf. the inner edges of the shelves should be fastened flush with the edges of the sides. in the bottom shelf place a row of brass hooks for cups to hang upon. it is necessary to fasten three strips two inches wide between the sides in the back of the rack (as shown in the drawing) for the tops of the plates to rest against. two holes should be bored in the top strip, by which to hang the rack on nails or hooks fastened in the wall. after completing the carpenter-work, finish the rack with a stain which will harmonize with the color scheme of the room in which it is to hang. chapter iv suggestions for a boy's room [illustration: boy reading, boy writing.] it is far better for a boy to spend his evenings in the house than out upon the street. he need not be without his friends there, for if he has an attractive room, with books to read, games to play, and puzzles to solve, the boys of the neighborhood will soon find it out and be only too glad to have a chance to visit him, knowing they will be sure of finding plenty of things to interest them. the simpler the furnishings of a boy's room are the better. plain and substantial furniture which will stand perhaps a little rougher usage than that in other rooms of the house, and handy places for storing away his traps, are what are needed. the room should be his den where he can keep what he pleases, and arrange the fittings to suit his individual tastes. shelves for his books and magazines, a cabinet for various collections, boxes for miscellaneous articles, and a desk at which he can study and keep his accounts, are a few of the things the room should contain. these pieces can easily be constructed in the workshop, by following the directions given in this chapter. on the opposite page is shown a scheme for a boy's room suggestive of his sports, games, and handicraft, and while everything is simple and inexpensive in the furnishings, it makes a room that will strike the fancy of the average boy. nothing appears more attractive than =a cosey-corner=, such as shown in the illustration, and it is a simple matter to fit one up. a home-made couch, box, or seat of some sort should be constructed to set in the corner, a shelf fastened to one wall a foot or more above it, and several shelves hung on the adjoining wall, as shown in the drawing. purchase several yards of a dark shade of green denim, and enclose the corner with three strips (see illustration). the upper strip is stretched across the corner at the ceiling, and the other two attached to its ends and allowed to hang to the floor. it is a good idea to make also a dado of the same material within the corner from the baseboard to the under side of the shelves. =pennants= representative of the various colleges can be made out of cheese-cloth, and a string of these hung across the corner at the ceiling will produce a pretty effect. the walls of the room may be brightened with =small posters=, which it is an easy matter to obtain nowadays, and small pictures mounted upon colored mats and fastened behind glass by means of passe-partout paper are always attractive. [illustration: treatment of a boy's room.] =picture-frames= can be made out of narrow moulding, the corners of which have been mitred in the mitre-box to make them join neatly. a frame which has proven satisfactory for small posters and pictures not requiring glass is one made out of common laths. the ends of the laths are not mitred as is usually the case in making frames, but are fastened together with what is known as a "butt-joint"; that is, the ends of each piece are set against the ends of the adjoining pieces. the simplest way of fastening them together is by means of small strips of wood nailed across the corners on the back of the frame. although this frame might be expected to have a clumsy appearance, it has not, and when thoroughly sand-papered and finished with a dull green stain is very pretty. [illustration: fig. .--a writing-desk.] =the writing-desk= shown in fig. is constructed out of a box, and makes a pretty piece of furniture when completed. procure a box as free from defects as possible, and with fairly wide boards, so there will be but few cracks. the cover should be in not more than two pieces, as it forms the drop-front of the desk, and it would be difficult to fasten more together. the boards must be fastened with "dowels" and cleats on the edges, as shown in fig. , as cleats upon the inside of the drop would be in the way. [illustration: fig. .] dowelling consists in boring holes along the edge of each board and fitting pegs in them. of course the holes must be bored in exactly the same relative positions in each piece so that the end and sides of the boards will be flush with each other when the pegs have been put in place. to get the holes correctly bored, place the boards together in the vise with two edges flush and uppermost, and square lines six inches apart across the edges, after which locate the centres of the holes on these lines. be careful to bore the holes straight, and make them a little longer than the pegs. cut the pegs out of hard wood and make them large enough to fit tightly in the holes. the pegs as well as the two edges of the boards should be smeared with glue before being put together. then, after driving in the dowels, clamp the pieces together and lay them aside until the glue has thoroughly dried. in order to make a neat joint between the two boards, it is very necessary to have the two edges planed perfectly true and square. while the boards of the drop-front are drying, you can prepare the inside of the box. a boy's desk should be supplied with plenty of pigeon-holes and drawers. they are as necessary as pockets are in his clothes. split-up cigar-boxes may be used for these divisions, and, by making the upper ones of the right size, cigar-boxes may be fitted in them for drawers. the paper should be removed from the boxes as described in chapter viii. fasten small silk-spools to the front of the drawers for knobs. when the dowelled pieces have dried, nail a small moulding around the two end edges and one side edge, mitring the ends so as to fit together as shown at _a_ (fig. ). the drop-front should be hinged to the box with two hinges placed on the inside, as shown in fig. , and brass chains attached to screw-eyes screwed into it and the inside of the box. for the top of the box, purchase a moulding a little larger than that used around the edges of the drop-front and mitre it at the corners, as shown in the illustration. before putting any finish upon the desk, sand-paper the wood, set the nails with a nail-set, and fill all holes and cracks with putty. a couple of coats of white enamel applied to the outside will produce a very pretty effect, and the inside may be finished with linseed oil, which makes a beautiful finish for the cigar-boxes. the desk should be supported on two iron brackets (enamelled to match the desk), screwed to the wall and under side of the desk. in fig. will be found =another style of desk=, which, though not as simple to make, may be preferred to the first design. [illustration: fig. .--another style of desk.] cut two boards fifteen inches long by twelve inches wide for the sides, and taper each from twelve inches at one end to eight inches at the other end. cut a board twelve by thirty inches for the bottom and another eight by thirty for the top, and nail them to the end pieces, after which saw the boards for the back and drop-front. dowel and glue the drop-front boards together, nail a moulding around three edges, and hinge the piece to the desk, as in the case of the other design. partition off the inside of the desk as shown in the illustration, and nail a moulding around the top. finish the wood in the manner described for the other desk. =an ink-stand and pen-tray=, suitable for your desk, can be made out of a cigar-box, as shown in fig. . slope the edges with your jack-knife and cut several notches in them for pens and pencils to fit in. the wood should then be sand-papered and oiled. [illustration: fig. .--ink-stand and pen-tray.] =a couch= for the cosey-corner of your room can be made out of two boxes about three feet long, two feet wide, and eighteen inches deep. [illustration: fig. .--a couch.] remove one side of each box and nail the covers on, after which place the two boxes end to end and fasten them together with strips nailed across them at _a_, _b_, and _c_ (fig. ). an incline about eighteen inches long should be fastened to one end, as shown in the drawing. the inside of the boxes may be partitioned off and used for storing away magazines and pamphlets. [illustration: fig. .--a window-seat.] for the covering of the couch procure several yards of cretonne, some cotton batting or an old quilt to pad the top, a box of upholstering-tacks, and several dozen brass-headed tacks. after spreading the padding over the couch, cut a piece of cretonne large enough to cover it and tack it to the edge of the boxes, using the upholstering-tacks for the purpose. make a valance of the same material, gathering the cretonne so as to form a heading at the top, and tack it around the box. then place the brass tacks along the top of the valance about two inches apart. if a couch is too large for your room you can make =a window-seat=, such as is shown in fig. . cut the arms the shape shown in the illustration and fasten them to the ends of the box. batten the boards forming the box-cover on the under side. then tack cretonne on to the cover, arms, and outside of the box, placing padding underneath the cretonne to make it soft, and line the inside of the box with some dainty colored goods. when this has been done, hinge the cover to the box with large fancy brass hinges. the appearance of the seat will be greatly improved by placing brass tacks along the edges of the arms and seat, about two inches apart. the inside of the box will make a handy receptacle for clothes and linen. [illustration: fig. .--a curio-cabinet.] for those interested in making collections of stamps, coins, stones, insects, etc., =a curio-cabinet=, similar to fig. , will make it possible to keep all specimens arranged in order, each set of curios occupying a shelf by itself. such a cabinet should be made of bass or whitewood, as these can generally be obtained in greater widths, are cheaper, and less defective than other material. if you make your cabinet five feet high, two feet wide (inside measurement), and twelve inches deep, purchase twelve-inch boards, as these make it possible to have the sides in one piece and the back in two, a great advantage, as there will then be but one crack, and that up through the centre of the back. after cutting the side-pieces the correct length, finish their edges as in the drawing. then cut nine boards two feet long for the shelves, which are to be placed six inches apart. commencing at the top of each side-piece, lay off the thickness of a shelf, which will be about seven-eighths of an inch, and square the lines across the boards; then lay off the next shelf six inches below, and so on down to the bottom. cut along these lines to a depth of three-eighths of an inch with a saw, and remove the wood between with a chisel. when all the grooves have been cut, slip the shelves into them one by one, and nail them to the side-pieces. after fastening the shelves, cut the two twelve-inch boards for the back and nail them in place. while it is customary to put sash-doors on cabinets, this will be too difficult a job for you to attempt. a very pretty and inexpensive door may be made as in the illustration. make a frame out of two-inch strips to fit the opening, and stretch some green denim over it, tacking it to the inside of the frame. the ends of the strips forming the frame should be mitred and either nailed together or fastened with dowels and glue, as described in the construction of the desk (see fig. ). hinge the frame to the cabinet. to finish the cabinet, rub it down with sand-paper, set the nails with a nail-set, and putty up all holes, after which stain the wood green, a shade darker than the denim panel in the front. although the shelves may be simply stained, they will be much nicer for holding curios if covered with felt. it might be well to suggest that you number each curio, and make a catalogue of these, together with the names and any data you have concerning them. the catalogue may be hung on a hook upon the inside of the door, where it can always be found. a pretty set of =book-shelves= to hang upon the wall can be made with three boards twenty-four inches long by eight inches wide, four dozen spools all of the same size, and two pieces of rope about four feet long and small enough to fit in the holes of the spools. by saving the empty spools from your mother's work-basket, and having your friends save their spools for you, it will not be very long until you have the required number. spools upon which number thirty-six cotton thread comes are of the best length. bore holes in the four corners of each board. then, beginning with the board which is to form the bottom shelf, pass the ropes down through the holes on one side, across under the shelf, and up through the holes on the opposite side. string six spools on each rope and put the ropes through the holes in the next shelf; then string six more spools on each rope and run the ropes through the next or top shelf. tie the ropes together about a foot above the top shelf, fringing the ends to form tassels. figure shows the shelves completed. [illustration: fig. .--spool book-shelves.] =a blacking-case= made similar to fig. is a handy article for a boy to have in his room. as the friction from a rag rubbed over the shoe produces a finer polish than a brush when polishing paste is used, the box is provided with an arrangement by which a rag can be rubbed over the shoe without much effort (see illustration). [illustration: fig. .--a blacking-case.] procure a box about the size of a soap or cracker-box, and fasten a board in it for a foot-rest, as shown at _a_ in the drawing. on each side of this place a piece of a broom-handle a little shorter than the inside width of the box, and pivot them at the ends with wire nails driven through the sides of the box, as shown in the illustration. gimlet holes should be made in the sides of the box so the nails will fit loosely in them. procure a strip of canton-flannel twenty-four inches long by six inches wide, and, after sewing two brass rings to each end, pass the cloth under the rollers and over the foot-rest, as shown in the illustration. the lower part of the box will hold your boxes of blacking and the brushes. to have access to this, a board should be removed from the side of the box and hinged as at _b_ and _c_ in the illustration. place a button-catch just above it to keep it shut. fasten together the boards forming the box-cover with battens, and hinge them to the end of the box. the outside of the case will be improved greatly if covered with denim. after applying the paste to the shoe, the foot should be slipped under the cloth which passes over the foot-rest. two fingers of each hand should then be placed in the rings and the cloth pulled back and forth over the rollers until the shoe is polished. [illustration: fig. .--a towel-rack.] =a towel-rack=, such as is shown in fig. , is made in four pieces,--a board about eighteen inches long for the back, two arms six inches long, and a piece of broom-handle eighteen inches long. after cutting out the arms the shape shown in fig. , bore a hole large enough for a broom-handle to fit in each. bevel the edges of the eighteen-inch board, and then nail it to the arms, driving the nails through this piece into the arms. fit the piece of broom-handle into the holes bored for them, and trim off the ends so that about one inch projects beyond the face of each arm. [illustration: fig. .] sand-paper the wood, and either paint or varnish it. attach screw-eyes to the top of the back board and hang the rack by these to hooks placed in the wall. chapter v how to make a doll-house [illustration: boy presenting doll-house to his sisters] the average store doll-house is made of thin wood, which is full of defects and likely to warp, besides being put together in such a flimsy manner as to soon fall apart. the majority of these are imported houses, designed and planned in foreign styles, the exteriors being covered with clumsy ornament and gaudily painted, while the interiors are very poorly planned and proportioned. americanized doll-houses are seldom seen in the market, and the few there are will generally be found very expensive. there is probably nothing more interesting for a boy to make than a doll-house. it is like building your own house on a small scale, the details and proportions having to be just as carefully worked out to make a good-appearing house. try the construction of a house for one of your girl relatives and see how much she will appreciate it. then having completed one and learned the many little tricks there are in doing this work, you will find it quicker and easier to turn out others to sell. neatly made houses are always salable, and it should be an easy matter for you to make arrangements with a toy dealer in your town, to place some of your work in his store to sell on commission. the doll-house designed and detailed in this chapter is easily constructed and =the materials required= do not amount to very much. boards ten inches wide and one-half inch thick are preferable for the general construction, with a few four-inch boards one inch thick for the base and a few other details. basswood probably will be found the easiest wood to work with, as it is soft, straight-grained, and free from knots. packing-cases may be used to advantage when they are of the right size, but they are generally made of a cheap grade of pine, full of knots and other defects that make it difficult to do a good job. cigar-boxes make the nicest material for the interior finish, and a number of all sizes should be procured for this purpose. prepare the boxes for use as described in chapter viii. fourpenny nails should be purchased for the rough carpenter work, and brads and glue for attaching finishing-strips and all light wood. paints and other material are specified as required. as shown on the plans (figs. , , and ), the house described in this chapter is of three floors, containing nine rooms, and is in size, thirty inches wide, twenty inches deep, and three feet high. [illustration: figs. - .--plans of doll-house and patterns for the partitions.] =the base=, or false basement, should be made first. it consists of two four-by-one inch boards thirty inches long and two twenty inches long, with the ends mitred and fastened together in the form of a frame. upon this =lay the first floor=, allowing but one-half inch of the boards to bear on the frame on all sides. then lay off the first-floor plan (fig. ) upon this floor with a pencil and square, locating the partitions by means of the dimensions given on the plan. =make the partitions= _a_, _b_, and _c_, the shape and size shown in fig. , and nail them to the places marked out for them on the floor. =the stairs= from first to second floors (fig. ) should now be constructed as described later under the head of "stairways," as it would be difficult to set them in place after the walls are up. =make the front and rear walls= twenty-nine inches wide and twenty inches high, and nail them to the edges of the floor. the outside surface of the walls should now be in line with the base. leave the cutting of the windows until the rest of the house has been put together. the walls may be prevented from spreading by means of temporary braces nailed across the tops. =lay the second floor=, cutting a three by ten inch stair opening in the place indicated on the plan (fig. ), and fasten the boards to the front and rear walls. draw upon this the second-floor plan, and =cut out partitions= _d_, _e_, _f_, and _g_, as shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--details of inside stairs.] after nailing these partitions to the places marked out for them, and building in the stairs, =lay the third floor= (fig. ), cutting a three by seven inch stair opening, and fastening the boards in place as you did those of the second floor. =stairways.=--while each stairway should be built before the floor above is laid, in order that the work can more easily be done, they have been left for description here, that they might be spoken of in a general way. in figs. , , , , and will be found complete details for these. the first things to prepare are =the stair stringers=, or supports for the steps (treads and risers). cut from a piece of cardboard what is known as =the pitch-board=, the pattern by which to lay out the steps (fig. ). then draw a line lengthwise upon a thin strip of wood (_ab_ in fig. ), and lay off the pitch-board on this as shown in fig. --sixteen times for the first to second story stairs and fifteen times for the second to third story stairs. draw the line _de_ parallel to _ab_, and the lines _cd_ and _ef_ as shown. then cut out the stringer along the lines _cdef_, being careful in doing so not to split off the corners. prepare two stringers for each flight of stairs. =the treads and risers= should be cut as shown in fig. , and the =newel-posts and hand-rails= as shown in fig. . make a small groove in the bottom of the hand-rail as shown in the drawing. toothpicks are of just the right size for [illustration: figs. - .--details of inside stairs.] =the balusters.=--as brads are likely to split the thin cigar-box wood, the staircases should be put together with glue. first fasten the stringers in place, cutting a slot in the edge of the floors for the tops to set in, as shown in fig. . then glue on the treads and risers, and cut the bottom of the newel-post to fit over the second step. the lower end of the toothpick balusters are set into slits cut with a knife in the treads, and the upper ends fit in the groove cut in the hand-rail. =the balustrades= around the stair openings on the second and third floors are made in the same way (see fig. ). as finished floors are to be laid in the halls, as described later, it will be well at this point to fasten a strip from a cigar-box around the stair openings, upon which to fasten the newels and in which to stick the ends of the balusters. the drawings give every detail and measurement necessary for the making of these stairs, and everything will work out correctly if the directions are closely followed. [illustration: fig. .--the front steps.] [illustration: fig. . a colonial doll-house.] =the front steps= are made as shown in fig. . cut out two balustrades the shape and size shown in the drawing. then prepare two stringers of five steps, cutting them exactly the same as for the other stairs, and glue them to the inner faces of the balustrades. the treads and risers are the same as for the other stairs, except that they are four inches in length. cut the top platform two and one-half inches wide. =the rear steps= may be built similar to the front, or may be made simpler by leaving off the risers and balustrade. =the ends of the house= should measure twenty inches square. fasten the boards together with battens at top and bottom, and hinge them to the rear wall (see plans and fig. ). small hooks on the ends of the house will make it possible to fasten them shut. [illustration: fig. .--make gable-ends like this.] the roof is what is known as =the gambrel or octagonal roof=, and consists of two eight and two nine inch boards thirty-four inches long. before fastening these in place, it will be necessary to make =the gable-ends=, which are cut out as shown in fig. . make the partition between the nursery and ball-room (_h_) in the same way, with a door cut in it, as shown in fig. . fasten the partition and gable-ends in place, after which nail the roof boards _b_ and _c_ (fig. ) to the top, allowing them to project over each gable. the lower boards _a_ and _d_ should be hinged to these, so they may be raised to get at the upper story. the edges of the boards must be bevelled in order to make perfect joints. when the work has proceeded thus far, cut =the door and window openings= in the places indicated upon the plans and fig. , first boring holes in the four corners of each window and door space; and then connecting them with a compass-saw. with the exception of the front and rear door, and the windows in the basement and gable-ends, make all openings three by five inches, and two inches above the floor. the casement window openings in the gable-ends are to be four by five inches and extend to the floor. cut three-by-seven-inch openings for the doors, and make the basement window openings two by three inches. figs. , , , , and show the construction of [illustration: figs. - .--details of dormer windows.] =the dormer windows.= these are made from cigar-boxes. for the three dormers, you will require six pieces the shape of _a_ for the sides, three of _b_ for the gable-ends, and six of _c_ for the roof (see figs. , , and ). with the different parts cut out, it is a simple matter to fasten them together on the roof, by means of glue and small brads. the glass is bound to the ends of the side-pieces at _d_ and _e_ with strips of linen, as shown in figs. and , and the gable-end sets on the top edge. the dormers should be placed directly over the lower windows and in line with the front wall (see fig. ). old four-by-five camera plates may be used for =the window glass=, by cutting them down to the required dimensions--three by five inches for the first and second stories, and two by three inches for the dormer and basement windows. four-by-five plates are the right size for the casement windows. as the basement is to represent stone, there will be no finish around the openings, and the glass will have to be held in place with cigar-box strips on the inside and putty on the outside, as shown in figs. and . the glass should be fastened in the first and second story windows by means of putty and strips of cigar-boxes (see figs. , , and ). we will make the inside and outside trim the same to simplify matters; so cut two sets of strips for each window, making them the shape and size shown in figs. and . fasten the outside strips in place first, then slip the ends of the glass into the centre of the wall and nail on the inside strips. fill in the spaces between the glass and strips with putty to hold the glass firmly in place. =the casement windows= (fig. ) are made similarly, with the addition of a quarter of an inch strip of a cigar-box glued up the centre of the glass, to give the appearance of double windows hinged to swing in. [illustration: figs. - .--details of windows.] narrow strips of paper glued to the glass, as shown in figs. , , , and , will produce the effect of =divided glass= and upper and lower sash. =the door trim= (figs. , , and ) is put in place the same as the window trim, but instead of placing the door in the centre of the wall, it should be set flush with the inside trim (see _k_, _l_, and _m_ in plan, fig. ), and is hinged by means of a linen strip glued to the edge of the door _m_ and strip _l_. the door-jambs are cased with strips _i_ and _j_. the rear door may be made simpler than this by using a plain strip for a cap. =make the door= out of a piece of cigar-box. the drawings give all the necessary measurements for door and window strips, and you will find it a simple matter to cut them out with a sharp knife. after putting the trim upon all of the windows and the doors, cut a number of strips of wood an eighth of an inch thick and half an inch wide for =outside trimmings=, and nail them to each corner of the house, around the edges of each gable-end, and around the top of the basement. purchase some narrow moulding for the cornice and nail it to the edges of the roof boards, being careful to make neat mitres at the corners. the house can more easily be moved about if mounted upon =casters.= to put these on, cut four pieces of two-by-four about three inches long, fasten a caster to each, and nail one block inside each corner of the foundation frame. [illustration: fig. .--construction of chimneys.] the exterior of the house is now complete with the exception of =the chimneys.= these should be made up of four pieces, two of which should have bird's-mouth cuts made in the end, as shown in fig. , to make the chimney fit over the top ridge of the roof. the side edges of the pieces should be mitred and fitted together. nail a strip of wood, half an inch wide, around the tops of the chimneys for caps. you will find it easier to =paint the chimneys= before fastening them to the roof. make the brickwork red and the caps white, and with a small brush and ruler stripe off the mortar joints. when the paint has thoroughly dried, nail the chimneys on to the ridge of the roof in line with the front windows (see illustration of completed house). you will want =a mantel and fire-place= in the living-room of the house, and it had better be built in at this point. figure shows about the simplest form of mantel you can make, and one that presents a very neat appearance. it is made out of cigar-box strips painted to represent brick, with stone hearth and mantel-shelf. it measures seven inches wide, four and five-eighths inches from the base to the top of the shelf, and has a fire-place opening four inches wide and two and one-half inches high. [illustration: fig. .--the living-room mantel.] [illustration: fig. .--construction of mantel.] figure shows the patterns for the cutting of the various pieces required to make up the mantel. _a_, the front piece, has an opening cut in it for the fire-place, as shown in the drawing. cut two strips similar to _b_ for the ends of the mantel, one the size of _c_ for the back of the fire-place, two of _d_ for the sides of the fire-place, and one of _e_ for the mantel-shelf. these pieces, with the exception of _e_, should be painted red, and striped off, when dry, with white paint to represent brick. it will be much easier to do the painting before fastening the pieces in their proper places. first divide the length and breadth of the pieces into about the number of spaces shown in fig. with a lead pencil. then with a small brush, and straight-edge for a guide, trace over the pencil lines with white lead. be careful in striping the brick to get the courses the same upon each piece so they will correspond when the pieces are put together. =the hearth= is made out of a strip seven inches long by two inches wide. upon this the mantel should be put together with the pieces prepared. figure shows the location of each piece, and with the aid of glue and some small brads it will be a simple matter to complete the mantel. the edges of the strips had best be mitred to make neat joints. paint the hearth and mantel-shelf white. the mantel should be fastened to the centre of partition _b_ in the living-room (see plan, fig. ). =andirons= should, of course, accompany the fire-place. these may be made as shown in fig. . they consist of two pieces of cigar-boxes cut the shape of _a_ and _b_ (_a_ an inch and one-half by an inch and one-quarter, and _b_ an inch and one-half long), with the end of _b_ glued in a slot cut in the lower part of _a_. the feet and the top of _a_ and the foot of _b_ are small brass-headed upholstering-tacks driven into the wood, which give the andirons a trim appearance. paint the strips black. set the andirons upon the hearth with the ends projecting into the fire-place, and pile several nicely shaped twigs upon them for logs. =the interior woodwork= remains to be put on. cigar-boxes make excellent imitation hardwood floors, for the halls, the ball-room, and nursery. select as large pieces as possible, and fit them on the floors with close joints. nail them down with small brads. [illustration: fig. .--andiron.] make the door casings from the same material, cutting the strips the shape and size of those used for the outside doors (fig. ). it is not advisable to hang inside doors, as they are easily broken off, and seldom work satisfactorily. a chair-rail should be made in the dining-room of quarter-inch strips fastened to the walls three inches above the floor. make baseboards in each room out of three-quarter inch strips, and picture mouldings out of strips an eighth of an inch wide. after completing the carpenter work of the house =set all nail-heads= with your nail-set, putty these holes and all others resulting from cracks and defects, and sand-paper the rough surfaces. if the woodwork is to be finished in its natural color, by varnishing or oiling its surface, color the putty to match the wood. =paint the house= a cream color, with white trimmings and a green roof, using yellow-ochre and white lead (mixed) for the walls; white lead for the trimmings, balustrade of front steps, chimney-caps, and striping of brickwork; dark olive green for the roof, and treads and risers of the front steps; and lamp-black for striping the stonework of the basement. the painting of the chimneys and fire-place has been described. paint the front door on both sides with white enamel or white lead, with the exception of a panel in the centre, which should be oiled as shown in fig. . this will give the appearance of a white enamelled door with a mahogany panel set in it. [illustration: fig. . another style of doll-house.] [illustration: fig. . interior view of doll-house.] chapter vi another doll-house and a stable [illustration: boys making doll-house.] photographs of another style of doll-house are shown in figs. and . this house was built by the author for a little relative some ten years ago, and is still in perfect condition, as the photographs show. =packing-cases= were used for its construction, with cut-up cigar-boxes for window-casings, door-jambs, finished floors, etc., and small mouldings for the outside trimmings. the inside arrangement and the general construction of the house is so nearly like the design in the preceding chapter, that most of the details and the mode of construction may be followed in building it. if boxes are used, the dimensions will have to be figured out to suit, unless the boxes are pulled apart and the boards cut to the sizes shown in the illustrations of this chapter. =the floor plans=, which will be found in figs. , , and , give the sizes of the rooms, and the patterns for the making of =the partitions= are shown in figs. and . in cutting out the second-floor partitions (fig. ), mitre one edge of _e_ and _f_ to allow for the bedroom door opening, shown upon the plan, and mitre the edges of _g_ to fit between them above the door. the mitring is shown in the drawings (fig. ). besides cutting a stair opening in the second floor, make an opening three by five inches in the second and third floors for =the elevator-shaft=. care must be taken to have these openings exactly over one another. make the opening in the second floor six by eight inches in the place indicated upon the plan. this will allow for the elevator shaft and stairway. no stairway has been built to the third story, as the elevator serves the purpose, and one would take up too much of the ball-room space. =the side walls= should measure nineteen inches wide by twenty-four inches high, and the other two walls thirty inches wide by twenty-four inches high. that portion of =the rear wall= enclosing the kitchen and bath-room is hinged to open (see fig. ), and =the front wall= is made in two sections, each hinged to a strip of wood an inch and one-half wide nailed to the two edges of the house, as shown in fig. . =the windows= are four by five inches, so four-by-five camera plates can be used for the glass. [illustration: figs. - .--plans of doll-house and patterns for partitions.] =the roof= had best be made in two sections, each measuring twenty-eight inches long by twenty-four inches wide. fasten the boards together with battens on the under side and, after mitring the upper edge of each, nail them to the house so that the ridge is fifteen inches above the third floor. then nail a board nineteen inches long by ten inches wide in the peak of the roof (_d_ in fig. ), and a narrow strip three inches from each side wall (_k_ and _l_ in fig. ). these cut off the triangular shape of the ball-room and give it a better appearance. =the chimney= is made the same as those for the other house, with the exception of the cap, which is built up of strips of cigar-boxes to represent corbelled brick (see fig. ). these strips should be three-sixteenths of an inch wide, and fastened in place by means of small brads. [illustration: fig. .] =an elevator= is something which is found in but few doll-houses. it was built in this house, thinking it might please the young mistress, and proved such a success that the scheme has been worked out carefully in figs. , , , , and , that you may include it in the house you build. [illustration: figs. - .--details of the elevator.] the cutting of the elevator-shaft has already been described. for material, procure two small pulleys, such as are shown in fig. , four feet of brass chain, six feet of no. wire, half a dozen double-pointed tacks or very small screw-eyes, a short piece of lead pipe, and a cigar-box. make =the car= out of the cigar-box, cutting it down to two and one-quarter inches wide, three and three-quarters inches deep, and seven inches high (see fig. ). place two of the double-pointed tacks or screw-eyes in each side of the car for the guide-wires to run through and another in the centre of the top from which to attach the brass chain. =the guide-wires= are made of very heavy wire that will not easily bend. cut two of a length to reach from the first floor to the ball-room ceiling, and after running them through the tacks in the sides of the car, stick their ends into small holes bored at _e_, _f_, _g_, and _h_ (fig. ). the upper holes should be bored through the ball-room ceiling, while the lower ones need be bored but part way through the first floor. care must be taken to have these holes in the correct position, so the elevator will run up and down upon the wires without striking the sides of the shaft. the easiest way of fastening the wires in place is to run the upper ends through the holes, until the lower ends can be set into their sockets, and then drive two double-pointed tacks over the top of each wire, as shown at _e_ and _f_ in fig. . now run the elevator up to the top of the shaft, and mark upon the ceiling where the screw-eye in the top of the car strikes. at this point bore a hole through the ceiling and two inches back of it bore another hole, through which to run the weight-chain. when this has been done, cut a short block of wood to fit the peak of the roof and =screw the pulleys= to it two inches apart (fig. ). fit the block in the peak of the roof, centring the front pulley over the top of the car as nearly as possible, and drive a couple of nails through the roof boards into it to hold it in place temporarily. then =attach the chain= to the tack in the top of the car, slip a piece of lead pipe about an inch long over the chain, allowing it to set on the top of the car to make the latter heavier (fig. ), and run the chain up through the first hole in the ceiling, over the pulleys, and down through the second hole. to the end of the chain attach a piece of lead pipe for =the elevator-weight= (see fig. ).--this should be just heavy enough to make a perfect balance between it and the car, which can be obtained by whittling off the end of the pipe until the weight of the two is the same. make the chain of sufficient length so the weight will rest upon the first floor when the car is at the third floor. you can now tell whether or not the pulleys are in the right positions. when they have been adjusted properly, nail the block firmly in place. =the gable-ends.=--the front gable-end consists of four pieces (_a_, _b_, _c_, and _d_, in fig. ), the dimensions for the cutting of which are given in the illustration. after preparing these, nail _a_, _b_, and _c_ in their proper positions in the gable of the roof, and trim the edges of _d_, if they need be, to fit between. to prevent the movable section from pushing in too far, it will be necessary to nail a narrow strip of wood to the roof and third floor just inside of it. the rear gable is made in one piece, and is fastened in place permanently. [illustration: fig. .--the front gable-end.] the movable gable and all hinged portions should have =spring-catches= with which to shut up and lock the house (see the illustrations). =the stairway= is shown in fig. , and the details for its construction will be found in figs. , , , . this stairway is made in two parts, with a platform between. cut a block of wood the shape and size shown in fig. for the platform, with notches at _a_ and _b_ for the tops of the lower stringers to fit in. then =prepare two stringers= of thirteen risers similar to fig. and two stringers of five risers similar to fig. , laying them off as described in the preceding chapter by means of a pitch-board similar to fig. . after cutting out these pieces, fasten the tops of the lower stringers in the notches _a_ and _b_ in the platform, and nail the platform in its proper position in the corner of the hall. when this has been done, nail the bottoms of the upper stringers (_e_ in fig. ) to the sides of the platform at _c_ and _d_, and set the tops in notches cut in the edge of the second floor. [illustration: figs. - .--details of stairs.] =the treads and risers= are made the same as in fig. (chap. v), except that the depth of the risers is increased to five-eighths of an inch. cut another platform from a cigar-box to fit over the rough one. =build a balustrade= up the side of the stairs and around the elevator enclosures, using the scheme shown in chapter v (figs. and ). =all other details= not mentioned here will be the same as described in chapter v, including the painting and finishing of the house. how to make the stable [illustration: fig. .--exterior of stable.] the stable shown in figs. and , and in the background of fig. , will go nicely with the house described in this or the preceding chapter. its construction is very simple. the dimensions are twenty-four inches wide, twelve inches deep, and twenty-two inches high, and the barn contains five stalls on the ground floor and a hay-loft above. [illustration: fig. .--interior of stable.] to build the stable according to the drawings, a box ten by twelve by twenty-four inches should be procured for =the first story=.--if you have a box of different proportions it will be a simple matter to make such alterations in the details as it will require. =the roof= is made in two sections, each fifteen by eighteen inches, and is fastened to the top of the box so that the peak is twenty-two inches above the bottom. =the gable-end= is made in four pieces, as shown in fig. , _a_, _b_, and _c_, to be nailed in place, and _d_ to be movable as in the case of the doll-house. make a three-by-five-inch window in the centre of _d_, and fasten the glass in place with strips cut as described in chapter v. strips should be nailed to the roof just inside of the movable section to prevent the latter from setting in too far, and a spring catch fastened to _c_ and _d_ as shown, to hold the movable section in place. [illustration: fig. .--front gable-end.] [illustration: fig. .--stall partitions.] figure gives the patterns and measurements for =the stall partitions=, four of which should be cut out and fastened to the floor of the stable four inches apart, or so they will divide the inside width into five equal stalls. =the feed-troughs= are made out of two strips of cigar-boxes fitted between the stalls, as shown in figs. and , and are fastened in place by means of brads and glue. above the stalls cut =small windows= an inch and one-half square in the rear wall. these are the ventilating windows for the stalls, and may be left open. [illustration: fig. .--ladder to hay-loft.] figure shows the construction of =a ladder= to the hay-loft. this is made out of two sticks twelve inches long, with strips of cigar-boxes two inches long glued to them half an inch apart, as shown in the drawing. cut away a section of the hay-loft floor two inches square and stick the end of the ladder up through the opening, fastening the uprights to the edge of the floor (see fig. ). a stick about three inches long, with a very small pulley attached near the end, should be fastened in the peak of the roof for a =feed-hoist= (see fig. ). the first story has =a drop-front=, as shown in figs. and . this is made from the box-cover. fasten the boards together with battens placed upon the inside, and hinge it to the bottom of the stable. nail two cleats to the under side of the floor (see fig. ) to lift it off the ground, just enough to allow the front to drop without springing its hinges. when the front is down it forms an incline upon which to run the horses into the stable. for this reason it is not advisable to cut an opening in it, but merely =represent a stable door= on the outside (see fig. ). this is done with paint and a fine brush. first paint a green panel in the centre of the front, and then mark off a couple of panels within this space with black paint, and stripe them diagonally to represent beaded-boards. with strips of wood half an inch wide make =a simple trim= around the door, the sides of the stable, and around the gable, as shown in the illustration. when the carpenter work has been finished, =paint the inside= of the stable white, and the outside the same colors as used for the doll-houses (see description on page , chap. v). chapter vii furnishing the doll-house [illustration: boy presenting doll-house to his sisters.] with the carpenter work of a doll-house completed, the finishing of the inside,--wall papering and painting,--and the selection of furniture for the various rooms, remain to be done. this requires as much care as the building of the house, and while any boy can do the work, the help of a sister will perhaps simplify matters and give to the rooms a daintier appearance. =the walls and ceiling= of the kitchen and bath-room should be painted with white lead or white enamel. for the other rooms select paper having a small design, such as is to be found on most ceiling papers. if you have ever watched the paper-hanger at work, you have noticed he puts on the ceiling first, allowing the paper to run down the walls a little way all around instead of trimming it off. then he hangs the wall paper, and if there is no border to cover the joints of the ceiling and wall papers he carries the wall paper up to the ceiling. use flour paste to stick on the paper, and a cloth or photograph-print roller to smooth out the wrinkles. the dining-room should have a wainscot of dark paper below the chair-rail, and a paper with little or no figure upon it above. =all hardwood floors=, the stairs, door and window casings, baseboards, and picture mouldings should be varnished thoroughly or given several coats of boiled linseed-oil. all floors, with the exception of the kitchen, bath-room, and hardwood floors, should be fitted with =carpets.=--if you do not happen to have suitable scraps on hand, they can be procured at almost any furnishing store where they make up carpets. select pieces with as small patterns as possible. the floors of the bath-room and kitchen should be covered with oilcloth. =rugs= for the hardwood floors may be made out of scraps of carpet. =window-shades= may be made for each window out of linen, and tacked to the top casing so that the bottom of the curtain reaches just above the centre of the opening. each window should also have =lace curtains= made out of scraps of lace. they should either be tacked above the windows or hung upon poles made out of no. wire, cut in lengths to fit the windows. screw small brass hooks into the top window-casings for the poles to hang upon. =handsome portieres= for the doorways can be made with beads and with the small hollow straws sold for use in kindergartens. for the =bead portieres=, cut threads as long as the height of the door and string the beads upon them, alternating the colors in such a way as to produce patterns. then tie the strings together to a piece of wire the width of the doorway, and fasten the wire in the opening. the =straw portieres= are made similarly. from magazine illustrations you can select =suitable pictures= for each room, but if you are handy with brush and pencil you may prefer to make the pictures yourself. these may be mounted upon cardboard and have their edges bound with passe-partout paper to give the effect of frames, or frames may be cut out of cardboard and pasted to them. hang the pictures to the picture moulding with thread. =a cosey-corner= may be fitted up in the ball-room by fastening a strip of a cigar-box in one corner an inch and one-half above the floor for the seat, and hanging draperies on each side of it. pillows may be made for it out of scraps of silk stuffed with cotton. a doll-house properly proportioned in every detail, including the selection of its furniture, is pleasing to look at, and is to be desired much more than some of the specimens to be found in the stores. these very often have parlor chairs larger than the mantel, beds that either fill two-thirds of the bedroom space or are so small they are hidden from view by the chairs, and other furniture accordingly, all having been selected without any thought as to size or fitness. care must be taken, in buying the furniture, to have the pieces suitable to the rooms. it will no doubt require more time than to purchase the first sets you come across, but when you have completed the selections, the result will be a much better appearing doll-house. by carefully searching the toy-shops you are almost certain of finding what you want for the various rooms, as about everything imaginable in furniture has been manufactured. porcelain bath-tubs, wash-basins with real faucets and running water, gilt furniture, chandeliers, and such articles are tempting to buy. but it is rather expensive to fit up a house in this way, for, though each piece may not amount to very much, they count up very quickly. the suggestions for the making of cigar-box furniture in the following chapter, and the cork furniture in chapter xxviii, should give you plenty of material for furniture and save you the expense of buying this part of the furnishings for your house. chapter viii doll-furniture [illustration] the metal furniture which you can buy is very pretty when it is new, but this new appearance does not last long after it has come into a youngster's possession, for the pieces are very slender and delicate, and thus easily broken. wooden furniture is the most durable kind, and plain and simple pieces will generally outlast the fancy ones. the designs illustrated in this chapter make very substantial pieces, as there are no spindle legs or fancy arms to break off. they follow the lines of the mission furniture, that simple style used in the early american mission schools, and which is to-day being extensively made in handsome pieces for the furnishings of modern homes. you will find the =miniature mission furniture=, illustrated and described in this chapter, simple to make and something which is easy to sell, for there is nothing like it at present upon the market. cigar-boxes furnish the nicest material for making this furniture, and the various parts can be cut to the right shape and size with =a gig-or scroll-saw.= procure small brads and glue with which to fasten the pieces together. =to prepare the cigar-boxes= for use, place them in a tub of boiling water and let them remain there until the paper labels readily pull off. do not use a knife in removing the paper, as it is liable to roughen the wood. the paper will come off by allowing it to soak long enough. when the boxes are clean, set them in the sun to dry, after binding the covers to the backs to prevent them from warping. pull the boxes apart when they are thoroughly dry, and throw out such pieces as have printing upon them, for these would spoil the appearance of the furniture if used. [illustration: figs. - .--patterns for furniture.] in order to simplify the matter of cutting the parts that make the furniture, the curved pieces have been drawn out carefully on page , so they can be laid off upon the strips of cigar-boxes without any trouble, by the process of =enlarging by squares.=--these drawings are shown one-quarter of their full size (half their width and half their height). to enlarge them procure a piece of cardboard nine by thirteen inches, or a little larger than twice the size of the drawing each way, and divide it into squares just twice the size of those on page . that will make sixteen squares in the width of the cardboard and twenty-four in the length, each half an inch square. in order to get the squares spaced equally, it is best to lay off the points first with a ruler along the top, bottom, and two sides of the sheet of cardboard, and then connect the points with the ruler and a sharp lead-pencil. then number the squares as in the illustration, using the figures along the sides and letters across the top and bottom of the sheet. with the sheet of cardboard thus prepared it is a simple matter to =reproduce the drawings= of figs. to by locating the points of the curves and corners of the pieces, as shown in the illustrations, in corresponding positions in the squares on your cardboard sheet. the curves may be drawn in by eye, after locating them with reference to their surrounding squares, but the surest way of enlarging them accurately is by laying off the points where the curve strikes each horizontal and vertical line in the illustration, upon the enlarged drawing. these points can then be connected with a curved line. make all of the lines heavy so they can be distinguished from your guide lines, and after carefully going over the drawing, comparing it with that on page to see that no mistake has been made in locating the points in enlarging, cut the various pieces apart. these give you =the patterns= with which to mark out the pieces on the wood. we will first note the construction of =the chairs= shown in figs. and . these are four and one-half inches high, two inches wide, and an inch and one-half deep. cut the back for the chair in fig. four and three-eighths inches high and an inch and three-quarters wide, the sides by the pattern in fig. , and the seat an inch and one-quarter by an inch and three-quarters. with the pieces cut out, fasten them together with brads and glue, placing the seat between the arms and back so that it is an inch and one-half above the base. [illustration: fig. . fig. . chairs.] cut the back for the other chair (fig. ) four and one-half inches high by two inches wide, the seat an inch and a quarter by an inch and three-quarters, and the sides an inch and three-eighths wide by two and one-half high. to get the curve in the bottom edge of the side-pieces, use the pattern in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--a settee.] =the settee= (fig. ) should have its sides cut by the pattern of fig. . make the back-piece three and three-quarters inches wide and three and one-quarter inches high, and the seat three and three-quarters inches by an inch and one-half. fasten the seat against the back an inch and one-half above the base. [illustration: fig. .--a table.] =tables= for the living-room, dining-room, bedroom, ball-room, and nursery of a doll-house may be patterned after the designs of figs. and . these should be two and one-half inches high to be of proper proportion for the chairs. the pieces necessary to make fig. are a top two inches square, two sides an inch and one-half wide by two and one-half inches high, and a shelf an inch and one-quarter square. fasten the pieces together as in the illustration, placing the shelf between the side-pieces an inch from the bottom. [illustration: fig. .--another design.] the other design (fig. ) will do nicely for =a dining-room table=, or table for the centre of the living-room. the top of this should be five inches long and three inches wide. cut the side-pieces by the pattern in fig. and, after fastening them to the under side of the table-top four inches apart, brace them with a strip three and three-quarters inches long by half an inch wide, as shown in fig. . =a side-board= similar to fig. should be made for the dining-room. the pattern for the side pieces is shown in fig. . after sawing these out, cut a piece seven inches long by three inches wide for the back and fasten the side-pieces to the edges of it. the location of the shelves can be obtained best by referring to fig. and the pattern in fig. . cut the bottom shelf (_a_ in fig. ) three inches long by an inch and one-quarter wide and fasten it to the side-pieces half an inch above the base (line on pattern, fig. ). make shelf _b_ three by one inches and place it at line . _c_ should be three and three-quarters inches long by an inch and one-half wide, with a small notch cut near each end with your knife, to make it fit over the side-pieces (see illustration). cut shelf _d_ three inches long by half an inch wide, fastening it in place at line no. , _e_ three inches long by seven-sixteenths of an inch wide, fastening it at line no. , and _f_ three inches long by three-eighths of an inch wide, fastening it at line no. . the top shelf (_g_) is three and three-quarters inches long and half an inch wide and is fastened to the tops of the side-pieces as shown in the drawing. [illustration: fig. .--a side-board.] the lower portion of the side-board is enclosed with two doors two inches high by an inch and one-half wide. small pieces of cloth may be used for hinges, but it is better to use pins, running them through the shelf above and below (_a_ and _c_, fig. ) into the doors. stick the pins near the edge of the doors and see that they are straight, so the doors will open easily. a small mirror attached to the back between shelves _c_ and _d_ will complete this piece of furniture. [illustration: fig. .--a mirror.] =a mirror= in a frame should be made for the living-room of the doll-house. a neat and suitable design for one of these will be seen in fig. . for its construction cut two sides by means of the pattern in fig. , a piece five inches long by three inches wide for the back, and a strip three inches long by three-eighths of an inch wide for a shelf. fasten the sides to the edges of the back-piece, and the shelf between the sides about three-quarters of an inch above the base. now procure a mirror such as you can buy in a toy-shop for five or ten cents (or a piece of a broken mirror cut down to the right size will do very nicely), and attach it to the centre of the back. =the grandfather's clock= (fig. ) makes an effective piece of furniture for the hall or living-room, and is easily made. figure shows the pattern for the front of this clock. the back is made the same, with the omission of the square opening cut in the front frame for the clock-face. cut a block of wood two by two by three-quarters inches to fit between the frames at the top. after nailing the pieces together, procure a face from a toy watch, and fasten it in the opening made for it in the front frame. a button suspended by means of a piece of thread from a tack placed in the bottom of the block forms the pendulum. [illustration: fig. . a grandfather's clock.] it will be unnecessary to give any suggestions for =kitchen furniture=, such as chairs and tables, for these can also be made out of cigar-box wood along the same schemes illustrated in this chapter, with perhaps a few modifications which will make them simpler. [illustration: fig. .--a bed.] [illustration: fig. .--another design.] now for the making of some pieces of bedroom furniture. you will find in figs. and two designs that are easily carried out, one or both of which may be used for =the beds= of a doll-house. to make fig. , cut the head and foot by means of the pattern in fig. , and cut the two sides by means of the pattern in fig. . after preparing these pieces and fastening them together as shown in the illustration (fig. ), cut a few strips a quarter of an inch wide for slats and fasten them between the sides of the bed. it is advisable to fasten these in place to prevent them from being lost. the side-pieces for the other bed (fig. ) are cut out with the same pattern (fig. ). make the head-and foot-pieces three by four and one-half inches, cutting a piece two by an inch and one-quarter out of the top of each as shown in the drawing (fig. ), and using the pattern of the other bed for cutting the curve in the bottom edge. nail the pieces together in their proper places, after which cut some slats and fasten them in the bottom. [illustration: fig. .--a dresser.] =the dresser= (fig. ) is made somewhat similar to the side-board. cut the sides by the same pattern (fig. ) and fasten them to the edges of the back-piece, which should be six and one-half inches high by three inches wide. cut shelf _a_ three by one and one-quarter inches, _b_ and _c_ three by one and one-eighth, _d_ three by one and three-sixteenths, and _e_ and _f_ one-half by one and one-quarter inches. fasten shelf _a_ between the sides at line no. (see fig. ), _b_ at line no. , _c_ at line no. , _d_ at line no. , and notch the ends of _e_ and _f_ to fit over the side-pieces at line no. . drawers to fit the lower shelves of the dresser may be made out of small strips of cigar-boxes or pieces of cardboard, glued together. a small mirror fastened in the position shown in the drawing will complete the work upon this piece of furniture. [illustration: fig. .--a wash-stand.] =a wash-stand= can be made for the bath-room and each of the bedrooms similar to fig. . the sides for this should be five inches high by an inch and one-quarter wide, and the shelves one by three inches. fasten the lower shelf three-quarters of an inch above the base, and the top shelf at a height of two and one-half inches. when the stand has been put together, fit a round stick, about an eighth of an inch in diameter, in holes made in the sides with a gimlet (see illustration). this forms the towel-rack. hang a small drapery over the lower portion of the stand. =finishing.=--when the pieces of furniture have been completed, they should be rubbed down with emery-paper to remove the rough edges, and also any rough places that may have been caused by soaking the boxes in water. then give the wood several coats of linseed oil. this makes a beautiful finish for this kind of wood. if desired, the bedroom furniture may be painted with white enamel. the little hearts may be painted upon the pieces as shown in the illustration, with a small brush and red paint, or may be cut out of red paper and glued to the wood. other cigar-box furniture [illustration: fig. .--a doll's folding-bed.] in figs. and will be found some pieces of furniture that are simpler to make than that just described, and although they may not be so pretty, they present a very good appearance when neatly made. the author constructed many pieces of this furniture when a boy, and found them suitable as presents, besides being something that was always easy to sell. the cost of making a set amounts to but a few cents, cigar-boxes being the principal material. they are also very quickly made, as the boxes require but little cutting. [illustration: fig. .--foot.] [illustration: fig. .--folding-bed (open).] for the construction of =a folding-bed=, such as is shown in figs. and , select two cigar-boxes, one of which will fit inside the other. the smaller box should be a little shorter than the inside opening of the larger box. after removing the paper from each, place the smaller box inside the larger one, as shown in fig. , so that the bottom of the inner box is flush with the edge of the outer box. then drive a brad through both boxes on each side, about three-quarters of an inch from the end as shown at _a_ (fig. ). these brads should run through the outer box into the bottom of the inner box, and should be driven in carefully so as not to split the wood. the inner box should now fold down as shown in fig. , moving upon the brad pivots. purchase a five or ten cent mirror and fasten it to the front of the bed, after which cut two wooden feet similar to fig. and glue the pegs on the ends of these in gimlet holes made above the mirror. finish the wood the same as described for the other cigar-box furniture. [illustration: fig. .--dresser completed.] =the dresser= shown in fig. is made out of a box the same size as the larger one used for the folding-bed. saw the sides of the box in half, crosswise, and remove the upper half and the end-piece. then nail the end across the tops of the remaining halves of the sides. when this has been done, divide up the lower portion of the box into compartments as shown in the drawing (fig. ). this should have a small drapery hung over it. the upper portion of the dresser should have a mirror attached to it, and some lace draped over the top and sides will add greatly to its appearance. [illustration: fig. .--a doll's dresser.] all you will have to do in making =a wardrobe= will be to fasten some small hooks inside of a cigar-box, attach the cover with a strip of linen--the same way it was attached before you soaked it off--and hang a mirror on the front. these pieces of furniture were designed for separate sets, and would not do for doll-houses the size of those in the preceding chapters, unless the boxes were cut down to smaller proportions. chapter ix a boy's printing-shop [illustration: boys working at the presses.] since the manufacture of printing-presses in small sizes, printing has become so popular among boys that it is now hard to find a neighborhood in which there is not a press. printing is one of the best methods of mastering spelling and punctuation, and is thus a great help to a boy in his studies, besides being a pleasant occupation at which he can earn money. if you cannot afford a large press, be satisfied with a small one for the time being at least. get to work, learn to print neatly and accurately, and when your friends find your work is of good quality, they will gladly patronize you. your profits should soon net you enough with which to buy a larger press and increase your equipment. after securing a press, it will be necessary to find a place in which to keep and use it, where there will be a good light to work by and where things are not likely to be disturbed. if you have a workshop, you may be able to make room in it for your outfit. [illustration: fig. .--a boy's printing-shop.] when the author became the proud owner of a machine, he found it convenient to keep it in his room with his type-cases and material beneath the press-stand. but in the course of several years the printing-shop required more space than the room afforded, and a new office had to be secured. this was found in the woodshed, where a corner was partitioned off, a double sashed window placed in the wall, and the interior fitted up with a case-rack, imposing-table, stock-stand, and all the necessities for an enlargement of business. figure shows the arrangement of our shop a few years later, when it again became necessary to increase our floor space by adding a "mezzanine" story above, extending to the roof of the shed. this half-story was reached by means of a ladder, as shown in the drawing. the principal equipment of a boy's shop should consist of a number of cases in which to keep the fonts of type; a rack in which these cases can be kept and at which the typesetting can be done; a work-bench, one end of which may be used for an imposing-table and the other for the press to stand upon; and two cabinets, one for stock and the other for ink, tools, and general supplies. the other materials required are: a composing-stick, composing-rule, pair of tweezers, galley, leads, rules, furniture, mitre-box, imposing-stone, quoins, shooting-stick, mallet, planer, hand-roller, and gauge-pins, besides a can of ink, an oil-can, a bottle of machine-oil for washing rollers, benzine for cleaning type, and a good supply of rags. [illustration: an amateur's outfit.] small presses are usually accompanied by a few fonts of type, which are sufficient for printing small business-cards, etc., but are of so few letters as to make an ordinary job of printing impossible. with an increase of capital, =type= should be the first addition to your outfit. in making selections bear in mind the amount of money you have to spend, and buy only styles which will go together nicely and which can be used for the greatest variety of work. if possible, secure the advice of a printer in purchasing, as by his experience he can tell what you will most require better than you. you can probably obtain a specimen type-book from the type foundry in your city from which to make your selections. =type-cases= divided into small compartments for the various letters and characters, which can be bought for seventy-five cents or a dollar, provide the only satisfactory means of keeping fonts. it is advisable to spend the money for these neatly made boxes rather than attempt to make them, for the work will amount to more than what you can buy them for. figures and show the upper and lower news-cases with the systems of "laying" generally employed in printing establishments. it will be seen that by this method the principal letters are grouped in the central portions of the case where they are easily reached, while the less important letters are scattered around the sides. the central boxes of the lower case are also made larger than the others, "e" being allotted the largest box as it is used more than any other letter in the alphabet. [illustration: scheme for laying cases. fig. .--lower case. fig. .--upper case.] as the lettering of the spaces and quads in fig. may be confusing to the beginner, it is perhaps well to explain that these are based upon the "m" quads which present a square end, the " m" and " m" quads being two and three "m" quads in width, and an "n" quad one-half an "m." likewise spaces are known by the fraction they represent of an "m" quad, viz. " m," " m," " m," and " m" (more commonly known as hair-space). [illustration: fig. .--the yankee job-case.] the upper and lower cases provide for about every character included in a complete font of type. for smaller fonts you will find the yankee job-case very convenient, the letters being arranged the same in the lower portion, and the capitals being placed in the upper boxes (see fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--a type-case rack.] it will be unnecessary to have =a rack for the type-cases= until you have added several styles of type to your outfit. then you will find a rack such as is shown in fig. one of the best methods of keeping the type away from the dust and at the same time in an accessible place. this rack should be four feet in height, the width of a type-case, and twenty-eight inches deep, which is large enough for twelve cases. it is best made out of four-inch boards. [illustration: fig. .] cut the uprights _a_ and _e_ three feet six inches long, and _b_ and _f_ four feet long. the top-pieces _c_ and _g_ should be cut similar to fig. . first lay out these pieces on four-inch boards, using the dimensions given on the drawing and being careful to get both pieces the same. having properly marked the pieces, they remain to be cut out with the rip and cross-cut saws. cut the bottom-pieces _d_ and _h_ twenty-eight inches long, and prepare twenty-two inch-strips of the same length for cleats. one of the most particular points to be looked after in making a rack of this kind is the attaching of the cleats, for unless they are perfectly horizontal and those on one side are on a level with those on the other side, the cases will not slide in satisfactorily and will be continually causing trouble. plenty of space should also be left between the cleats to prevent the cases from sticking by the cleats swelling or warping. [illustration: fig. .] in order to get the cleats in the right position, the heights should be laid off on the uprights as shown in fig. and lines squared across them. you will then have the same heights on each upright. having prepared the pieces above described, we are ready to put them together. lay uprights _a_ and _b_ upon the ground, twenty inches apart, and with the lower ends on a line with one another. then fasten board _d_ to them as shown in fig. , the upper edge being even with the first divisions on the upright. drive but one nail in each end of _d_ until the other end of the frame is fastened together. strip _c_ should be placed as shown in fig. , so that the upper edge of one end is even with the top of upright _a_, and the upper edge of the other end three inches above the top of upright _b_. this gives the proper pitch to the top of the rack. then, after measuring the distance between uprights _a_ and _b_ to see that it is no more or less than twenty inches, nail _c_ firmly to them, after which drive several more nails into the ends of _d_. [illustration: fig. .] when this has been done, fasten the cleats in place, so that the top of each is even with the line squared across the uprights. this completes the frame. the opposite frame is made similarly. when both frames have been made, they should be fastened together by means of the crosspieces shown in fig. . measure the width of your cases, which varies somewhat with different makes, and set the frames about half an inch farther apart than this width. then cut the boards _i_, _j_, _k_, and _l_ the correct length and nail them to the places shown upon the drawing. strips _m_ and _n_ should be fitted between _c_ and _g_ to help support the top. the top of the rack is made to hold two cases at a time, the lower case on the front part and the upper case back of it. cases should be kept out of the dust as much as possible, as dirt accumulates in the boxes very quickly, and is hard to clean out. it is therefore a good plan to tack cloth or heavy wrapping-paper to the back, sides, and below the top of the rack, and provide a curtain to hang over the front when the cases are not in use. when the boxes do become dirty, the dust should be removed by means of a pair of bellows. [illustration: fig. .--how to hold the composing-stick.] in composing, or setting type, =a composing-stick= is necessary. this should be held in the left hand, as shown in fig. , while the right hand picks up the type one by one and drops them into the stick, where the left thumb shoves them into place. it will be seen by looking at the illustration that the type are set upside down and read from left to right. this may seem awkward at first, but with practice you will soon become accustomed to reading the letters in this position. =a composing-rule=, similar to fig. , should be cut out of a piece of brass rule. in typesetting, the rule is first placed in the stick, and the type then placed against it. [illustration: fig. .--a composing-rule.] when a line has been set and there still remains a space too small for another word, it is necessary to either place wider spaces between the words to fill out the line, or reduce the space sufficiently to make it possible to add the word. this operation, which is known as =justifying=, should be performed after each line has been set. then place a lead against the type, lift out the composing-rule from behind the first line, and place it in front of the lead preparatory to setting a new line. [illustration: fig. .--a home-made galley.] after composing a stick full of type, it should be emptied into =a galley.= figure shows a galley made of half-inch stuff. cut the pieces as shown, and fasten them together so the bottom-piece is tilted sufficient to keep the lines from "=pieing="--or falling out of line--without tying them together. emptying a stick may prove difficult at first, but if the lines have been properly justified and are gripped at the ends with the thumb and first finger of each hand, there is but little danger of making pie. the beginner will, however, doubtless pie his type a number of times, until by experience he learns the proper handling of it. =proofs= are struck while the type is in the galley, by running an ink-roller over the matter, then placing a damp sheet of paper on the type and running a dry hand-roller over the paper. the print thus obtained is known as the "first proof." it should be fully corrected by means of proof-reader's marks, which can be found in the appendix of any dictionary, after which the corrections should be made in the type and a second proof struck off. when the matter has been fully corrected, it should be placed upon =the imposing-stone=--a piece of marble or other flat stone set upon the work table. after properly leading the type, =the chase=--an iron frame cast to hold the type for printing--should be placed over it. the space between the type and chase should then be filled out with =furniture=.--metal furniture consists of hollow metal blocks of various sizes, while wooden furniture comes in strips of different widths, which may be cut up into the lengths required. use a mitre-box similar to the one described in chapter i in cutting the wooden furniture. =locking-up a form.=--the type is locked-up by means of iron wedges known as "quoins." there are two forms of these, those driven together by means of a "shooting-stick" and mallet, as shown in fig. , and those locked by means of an iron key, such as is shown in fig. . the latter kind is probably the most commonly used to-day. before locking the form, the type should be levelled with a planer, which is nothing more than a block of hardwood with a smooth, even surface. the planer should be set upon the type and given a few light raps on the top with the hammer, until the face of the type is even. then lock the form securely, being careful to have as equal pressure as possible on all sides, to prevent the type from springing. the form is then ready for the press. [illustration: fig. .--locking-up a form.] [illustration: fig. .--key and quoins.] =distribution= consists in replacing the types in their respective boxes after the form has been printed, and is no longer desired. the matter should first be thoroughly washed, then unlocked. the distributer lifts out several lines of the type, holding them in his left hand, with the nicks uppermost and the letters facing him. one or more words are picked from the top line with the right hand, and each letter is dropped into its box, after which several more words are picked up and similarly distributed. a few pointers in regard to presswork may be helpful to the beginner. =the tympan=, or metal bed upon which the paper to be printed is placed, should be padded well with paper to make a firm impression, the number of sheets required depending upon the character of the form. these sheets are held in place by means of the iron clamps which slip over the ends of the tympan (see fig. ). the first print struck off probably will be imperfect, that is, some portions will be lighter than others, due to uneven impression. this is overcome by what is known as =overlaying= the form. make several impressions, including one on the top tympan-sheet. then cut out the light portions of a print and paste them directly over the corresponding printing on the tympan-sheet (see fig. ). thin tissue-paper will be found good for building up portions requiring but little increase in pressure. =underlaying= consists in pasting strips of paper to the back of type or cuts which print unevenly, to make the low portions higher. when the form prints satisfactorily, you must prepare the marginal lines before running off the job. the margins can easily be marked off upon the tympan-sheet, as you have the impression upon it for a guide (see fig. ). when this has been done, =gauge-pins= of some sort should be stuck into the tympan-sheet along the marginal lines as guides for placing the paper in the press for printing. two forms of these pins, which can be bought for twenty-five or thirty cents a pair, are shown in fig. . these pins must be so placed that there will be no danger of them mashing the type. [illustration: fig. .--two forms of gauge-pins.] [illustration: figs. - .--home-made gauges.] there are several forms of home-made gauges which may be used, three of which are shown in figs. , , and . the first (fig. ) consists of an ordinary pin bent into the shape shown. the second (fig. ) is made out of a strip of cardboard scored and bent as in the drawing. it must be pasted in place and held in position until dry, to prevent it from slipping (see fig. ). the third form of home-made gauge-pin consists of a quad (fig. ), or thin piece of furniture, pasted to the tympan-sheet. =in inking the press= be careful to spread the ink evenly over the disk, and apply just enough to make a clear, clean copy. too much ink will clog the type and produce a smeared print. ink should not be left upon the form after the latter has been removed from the press, but should be washed off immediately with benzine. the disk and rollers should also be washed after use, as the ink will not be good when hard and will become dirty. =the life of a roller= is greatly increased by using machine-oil rather than benzine for washing it. benzine is too drying for the composition of a roller (which is glue and molasses) and takes the elasticity out of it, causing it to crack. keep the rollers in a cool place in the summer and not in too cold a place in the winter, for extremes in temperature also affect the composition. =neatness= is absolutely necessary in printing, and to secure this you must keep your hands clean so as not to finger-mark your prints. care must be taken in throwing off printed sheets to see that they do not fall upon freshly printed ones if these are wet enough to mark them. =materials= should be put away in their proper places after use. do not throw type, leads, and furniture carelessly about, as they are likely to be lost or broken by doing so. cigar-boxes make handy receptacles for pied type, until you have an opportunity to sort out and distribute it. these are useful also for keeping leads, furniture, and rules in, and a cabinet similar to that described in chapter i (fig. ), or the curio-cabinet described in chapter iv (fig. ), should be made to hold them. the young printer should see to it that =proofs and scraps of paper= are thrown into a waste basket and not scattered about, as they accumulate rapidly, and not only make a shop look very untidy, but increase the danger of fire. =oily rags= should be kept in a covered tin can, for they are liable to ignite spontaneously when exposed to the air; and of course oils, gasoline, and benzine should be handled away from fire and corked up after use. chapter x amateur journalism [illustration: boy journalists.] amateur journalism is by no means a new pastime, but probably at no time in its long history has it been thought as much of as at present. it would be a difficult matter to even roughly estimate the number of papers which have been issued in the amateur world. mr. edwin hadley smith of new york city has the largest collection now in existence. this at present consists of , amateur papers, amateur books, photographs of amateur journalists, professional clippings, and , miscellaneous printed relics dating as far back as . the collection, which is the result of many years' work, is sorted and catalogued, and will soon be placed in one of our large libraries, where the public may inspect the work that has been turned out by amateurs for the past half century. [illustration: a group of amateur papers.] it is said benjamin franklin published an amateur paper in , when a lad of seventeen years; and in tracing the history of amateur journalism down to the present time, a person would be surprised to find what a large number of the most successful statesmen, writers, and scientific men this country has had were amateur journalists in their younger days. there are at present in the neighborhood of two hundred amateur papers published in the united states. a few of these papers, representative of amateurs from all parts of the country, have been grouped together and reproduced opposite page , and several others are shown in figs. , , , , and . it is to be regretted that lack of space forbids a larger display of these papers, many of which are quite unique and reflect credit upon their publishers. [illustration: fig. .--a school paper. pages. size - / " × - / ".] during the centennial at philadelphia in , the national amateur press association was formed for the purpose of spreading amateur journalism and bringing amateurs into closer relations with one another. the united amateur press association was formed in , and, while it is a younger organization than the national amateur press association, has a large membership of amateurs. every boy aspirant to the field of journalism should join one of these associations as soon as he has the proper credential--a copy of his own paper, or an original article of his published in an amateur paper. by becoming a member and getting acquainted with other amateurs through exchange of papers, a boy is greatly benefited. he has a chance to see what other amateurs are doing, finds out through the other papers what the members think of his work, and learns through these friendly criticisms wherein he can improve his publication. he also has a chance to enter his writings for the prizes awarded annually by the associations for the best poems, sketches, essays, histories, and editorials. a great number of the members of these two associations are interested in smaller organizations, among which are the interstate association--consisting of the members of the east--and the western. again, a large number of amateurs have formed state organizations, and in large cities, where there are enough members to do so, local clubs have been formed. the city clubs hold frequent meetings, at which it is customary for the members to take part in literary programmes. the state and other organizations generally hold semi-annual meetings, and the national amateur press association and the united amateur press association meet annually in some city chosen the preceding year, and at this convention elect their officers, make awards of prizes for the year, and have a general good time. the boy who is owner of a printing-press is almost certain to get the publishing fever and commence the publishing of a small paper. if his press is too small for such an undertaking, it will of course be necessary for him to do such job printing as he can get to do until he has earned sufficient money to buy a larger press and such materials as he will need in publishing a paper. but it is not always the boy who has had a taste of printing who becomes interested in amateur journalism. there are few boys nowadays who pass through their school life without devoting some of their time to this interesting and instructive work. a paper started by one boy is generally followed by several more, and in this way the number of amateur papers sent out in a town very rapidly increases. nothing daunts the ambitious boy. if he has not a press, and there are no prospects of him earning one for some time, he will not allow this to interfere with his plans. it only means he must devise some other way of printing. many boys have already proven that a press is not an absolute necessity, by issuing papers printed with rubber type, written by pen and on typewriters, and printed by the mimeograph and such duplicating machines. these are all more or less tiresome operations, but ways in which the boy determined to publish a paper may start. a few examples of papers printed by these methods are shown in figs. , , and . it might be interesting to know a little something about how these papers were run. the one shown in fig. was lettered by hand, and while only one copy of an issue was made, and that passed about in the school at which the publishers attended, there was a good deal of work required to get it up. [illustration: fig. .--another school paper.] the paper shown in fig. is also a school paper, published at the lake high school, chicago. the copy for this was first written off on a wax sheet by means of a typewriter, and this sheet placed on the cylinder of a machine known as a "neostyle," the cylinder then being revolved and the papers printed from the wax sheet. [illustration: fig. .--printed with rubber type.] the paper shown in fig. was the writer's first attempt in the publishing line, and was indeed a sorry specimen of typography. a box of rubber type, a four line holder, and ink-pad constituted the printing outfit. the paper was a twelve-paged two-column affair, requiring six impressions of four lines each to the column. the column ruling was done with a pen, and, after printing the copies, each had to be gone over and retouched with pen and ink. it was a long and tedious job, and so wearing upon the type that they were practically useless by the time the second issue had been printed. but by this time the publishers became owners of a press with which they were able to turn out more satisfactory work. the first thing for a boy to consider is =the character= of his paper--whether it shall contain news of the athletic field, the school, or the neighborhood, entirely, or be devoted to amateur journalism entirely, or be made up of a little of each. the schoolroom presents so much of interest to those in and out of it, that papers managed and edited by several pupils, with the articles written by the different classes, are generally successful. athletic news is always interesting to boys, and to have at least a portion of your paper given up to this subject might be a good plan. [illustration: fig. .] the paper shown in fig. is an example of a small paper, the size of the sheet being three by four and one-half inches. it was published a few years ago by six boys living in lexington, kentucky. the staff, the oldest of whom was but ten years of age, consisted of the editor-in-chief, who attended to the general management, editing, and printing of the paper, and five other boys, known as the associate editors, who gathered the news and did the hustling. this paper contained mostly neighborhood news, and had a large local circulation. the paper shown in fig. consists of twelve pages printed upon a press with a form capacity four by six inches, and is given up entirely to the publication of original stories and poems. [illustration: fig. .] some boys who do not own presses have the printing done by professionals, but simply to edit a paper gives them but half the pleasure and experience derived from executing all the work themselves,--editing, printing, binding, mailing, etc. =in naming= a paper be sure to select a suitable title for it, a name with a meaning, such as will denote the character of the publication, being desirable. =the frequency of publication= will depend largely upon the size of sheet, number of pages, the amount of time that can be devoted to the work, and the facilities for printing. whether weekly, monthly, semi-monthly--twice a month, bi-monthly--once in two months, or quarterly, try to place each issue in the hands of subscribers as nearly on time as possible. =the size of page= will depend largely upon your press. however, a small sheet is most desirable for an amateur paper. the first page should be headed with the name of the paper set up in rather large type. you will find =a stereotyped heading= cheaper to buy than a font of large type, and easier to handle on account of its being in a solid block. below the heading should appear the volume number, date, and number of issue, on one line, followed by the title of the article and body of type. =the choice of type= may be made by examining the sheets shown opposite page and in figs. and , many of which are good specimens of typography. these should also help you to formulate your ideas as to the style of your paper. the second page should be headed with the page number and name of paper--or title of story--in small caps, this line to be separated from the body of type by means of a pica brass rule. great care should be used in publishing a paper to have the proof thoroughly corrected before the form is printed, for typographical errors spoil the appearance of the paper and are always disgusting to the reader. also see to it that the marginal lines correspond on each sheet, and try to get uniform impressions throughout the paper. =a cover= is desirable for a small paper, as it adds to its appearance and size. if you have one, set it up in somewhat the same style as those shown opposite page . the cover sheets should be cut a little larger than the inside sheets, so they will cover the latter when they are bound together. with the printing of an issue completed, the sheets are ready for =binding=.--they may be fastened together by means of wire staples, paste, or thread. figure shows a scheme of stitching much employed in printing-offices and which is simple for an amateur to do. the sheets are first folded inside one another, as in the drawing. then, starting at _a_ with a needle and thread, run the needle through the sheets; carry the thread underneath the sheets from _a_ to _b_, from _b_ to _c_ above, from _c_ to _a_ beneath, and up through the sheets at _a_. then tie the two ends of _d_ and _e_ in a hard knot, with the portion of the thread marked _f_ between them. [illustration: fig. .] the cover may be bound with the rest of the sheets, or pasted to them after the sheets have been stitched. few amateurs bother with =advertisements=, probably because it is hard to find merchants who have confidence in results from magazines with small circulations; but with cheap rates you should be able to secure enough ads. to more than defray the expenses of publishing a paper. before soliciting these, cut a sheet of paper the size of a page and divide it into small spaces with a pencil and ruler, making what is known as =the advertisers' dummy=.--show this to your prospective advertisers and let them pick out the space they wish, charging so much per inch, the rate varying according to the position the ad. will occupy. with at least four regular issues a year, and not less than fifty per cent of the circulation paid subscriptions, you will be able to enter your paper in the post-office of your city as =second-class matter=, which makes it possible for you to mail your papers to out-of-town subscribers at the rate of one cent per pound. to secure these privileges write to the third assistant postmaster-general of your city for an entry blank, together with full particulars concerning second-class matter. return the application with a copy of your paper; and when it has been passed upon, the postmaster will issue you a certificate entitling you to these rates and authorizing you to print upon your paper "entered at the post-office at (name of town) as second-class matter." chapter xi a boy's dark-room [illustration: a boy photographing his dog.] there is no reason why an industrious boy cannot do a profitable business with a camera, when he has learned to operate it successfully, does careful and neat work, and charges a reasonable price for his pictures. the many monthly photographic competitions in the magazines should be a great help in showing where his faults lie, and when he has overcome these he should be able to make considerable money from the cash prizes offered. an amateur should master as much of the work as possible. one of the most interesting parts is missed if you pay a professional to develop your plates, and you never know where your faults have been made in taking the pictures, by not seeing the manner in which the image appears on the negative during the development. even though you spoil one or two plates in your first attempts at developing, your results on the whole will probably be as good as those obtained by a professional, who is very often careless with amateurs' work. no discussion of photography has been included in this book, as a complete treatise would be too lengthy, and a condensed description impractical. there are a number of excellent publications which describe the subject in detail, making it so clear that a boy cannot help but understand the principles with a little study. few of these books, however, dwell upon the equipment of the dark-room, and none give a fellow any ideas for the making of his apparatus, generally an important item to a boy. =the necessary equipment= for a dark-room is not large, about all you require besides your chemicals being a ruby lantern, printing frame, three trays,--one for developing, another for fixing, and a third for toning,--a two-inch camel's-hair brush for dusting plates, a drying-rack, glass graduate, funnel, set of scales, bottles for solutions, and a cabinet in which to keep your apparatus and supplies. =a dark-room= is not a necessity, although it is a great convenience, especially if you are doing much work. with the shades pulled down, you will find that your bedroom serves the purpose very well in the evening, and many boys do their work in this way. [illustration: fig. . a handy dark-room.] [illustration: fig. . a washing box and drying rack.] figure illustrates how developing is carried on in a bedroom of an old-style house, where the wash-stands are set in recesses in the wall. here a shelf made up of several boards fastened together with battens is set upon the marble slabs around the basin. in this shelf an opening four by six inches is made as shown in fig. , the edges of the opening being rabbeted to receive a five-by-seven camera plate. this arrangement is very complete, for the developing is performed on the shelf, the fixing on the stand below, and the washing in the basin, while light from the lantern is projected through the glass in the shelf, making it light underneath. this scheme can be used for any wash-stand, by nailing the shelf to two pieces of board twelve inches long by the width of the shelf, these pieces being set firmly upon the wash-stand. some boys use =the bath-room= for their dark-room, darkening the window and shutting out any rays of light that may come through the key-hole and cracks about the door. this works splendidly, there being running water at hand and the tub in which to wash the negatives. the work-table is made out of several boards battened together, and should be set across the edges of the tub. figure shows =another scheme=--a dark-room fitted up in a closet, or by partitioning off a corner of the attic or cellar. in the latter case the inside of the partition should be covered with black paper or cloth to prevent light from entering cracks in the boards. the room should be provided with =a work-table= about three feet high. this should be built against the wall and strongly braced, as shown in the sketch (fig. ). fasten a shelf to the wall about nine inches below the table, and under this make a rack with three divisions in it for trays. the rack should be fastened to the braces, as shown in the drawing. =running water= is a great convenience in a dark-room, as it saves the bother of having to carry water in pails, or transferring your plates to a tub or wash-basin for the final bath after development. if it is impossible to locate your dark-room where it will be supplied with running water, the best scheme is =a water-tank= with hose attachment. this is shown in fig. . to carry it out, procure from your grocer a "half-barrel," such as is used for the shipment of salt mackerel, etc., and, after thoroughly cleaning it, bore a hole in the side about two inches from the bottom. buy at a drug-store several feet of rubber tubing, a rubber stopper with a hole cut in the centre, two pinch-stops, a six-inch piece of glass tubing bent at right angles, and a small glass funnel. slip one end of the bent piece of glass tubing into the rubber stopper, and stick the latter in the hole made in the barrel. then slip a short piece of the rubber tubing over the glass tubing, and place one of the pinch-stops on it to be used in regulating the supply of water from the tank (see fig. ). set the barrel on one end of the table, and run the rubber tubing through a hole cut for it in the work-table. [illustration: fig. . fig. . fig. .--a well-equipped dark-room.] it is advisable to filter the water used from the barrel, that you may be sure it is free from dirt, so an arrangement similar to that shown in fig. should be fastened below the work-table. it consists of a glass funnel set in a hole bored in a block of wood (see _a_ in fig. ), which is suspended from the bottom of the work-table by means of a stick (_b_), one end of which is nailed to block _a_ and the other end to the work-table. keep a piece of filter-paper in the funnel. the rubber tubing should be cut just long enough to reach the funnel, and the bottom of this filter should come within an inch or two of the sink, which will be set in the shelf below. you will find an iron drip-pan about as cheap =a sink= as can be had, considering that one twelve by seventeen inches will cost you just fifty cents--twenty-five cents for the pan and an equal amount to pay a tinsmith for soldering a three-eighths inch pipe in a hole cut in the bottom for a drain. either fasten the sink on the shelf, boring a hole for the pipe to fit in, or set it in an opening cut in the shelf, as shown in the drawing, supporting it by the rim around its top. slip a piece of rubber tubing over the lower end of the drain pipe and to this attach the second pinch-stop as a regulator for emptying the sink (see fig. ). as the water supply would be insufficient to wash the plates thoroughly after taking them from the hypo bath, it should be used for rinsing only, and =a washing-box=, after the scheme of fig. , made to hold the negatives while washing them. this box will stand on the shelf beside the sink until you are through developing. the rack is made up of strips of wood fastened together with wire brads. figure clearly shows its construction. strips _a_, _b_, _c_, and _d_ should be placed three and three-quarters inches apart for four-by-five plates, and kerfs should be cut in their edges as shown. _a_ and _d_ are mounted upon short stilts, and _b_ and _c_ are nailed to the uprights supporting the handle. the plates rest upon strips nailed across the bottom pieces. [illustration: fig. .--a washing-rack.] this tray was made to hold two dozen plates, but may be made smaller if you wish. the box should be just large enough for the tray to fit in. fill all the cracks and joints with white-lead and give the box several coats of paint to make it perfectly water tight. then make a hole in the side near the bottom to let the water out, and procure a cork to fit it (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the washing-box.] before developing, cork up the washing-box, fill it with water, and set it in one end of the sink where the plates can be set in it after being taken from the fixing bath. when you are through developing, place the box and plates in the wash-basin or the bath-tub; remove the cork from the box and allow the water to run in at the top and out through the hole near the bottom. when the negatives have been thoroughly washed, the tray can be removed from the washing-box and used as =a drying-rack=. another scheme for a drying-rack easily made is shown in fig. . for the construction, two pieces of wood twelve inches long by four inches wide will be needed (_a_ and _b_ in fig. ), also two blocks (_c_ and _d_) four inches square. mitre one edge of _a_ and _b_, and cut a right-angled bird's-mouth in _c_ and _d_ to receive _a_ and _b_. with the pieces prepared, fasten them together as in the illustration. then procure some corrugated straw-board, such as is used for packing glass-ware, etc., cut two pieces four by twelve inches, and tack them to _a_ and _b_ in such a way that the corrugations on one strip coincide with those on the other. for a simple rack this cannot be surpassed. [illustration: fig. .--a negative-rack.] for chemicals, supplies, and apparatus, make =a cabinet= similar to the one described for tools in chapter i, or the curio-cabinet in chapter v. this makes it possible to keep everything in order and in places where they can easily be reached. such a cabinet is shown on the wall in fig. . the best scheme for a dark-room =ruby-light= is shown in fig. . this is practicable, however, only when you build the dark-room itself and can cut a window in the partition. it makes it possible to have your source of light outside of the room, and does away with the heat caused by having a lamp within, where you are working. first, cut a ten-by-twelve-inch window opening in the partition on a level with the top of the work-table. then make a frame a little larger than this opening and either set a piece of ruby or orange glass in it, or paste a sheet of ruby or orange paper over it. build a track above and below the opening for the frame to slide in, doing the work neatly, so there will be no possibility of light leaking through. the light, which may be a candle or lamp, should stand upon a shelf supported upon a bracket outside of the window. it is convenient to have the window slide, as it enables you to open it and have white light to work by when a ruby light is not necessary. this window furnishes light for developing, which will be done upon the table, but none for the shelf below, where the sink is located and where the fixing tray should be kept (that there will be no danger of getting hypo into the developer). in order to have light for this shelf, you had better follow the scheme shown in fig. . cut an opening four by six inches in the work-table directly in front of the window, and make a half-inch rabbet around its upper edge to receive a five-by-seven camera plate (see fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--a home-made dark-room lantern.] if it is not possible to have outside light for the dark room, =a home-made lantern=, such as is illustrated in fig. , will be found very satisfactory. it is made out of a wooden box about ten by ten by twelve inches. cut two openings six inches square in two sides of the box and cover one with one sheet and the other with two sheets of orange or red paper, spreading paste over the entire surface of the paper to make it stretch tightly over the openings as it dries. the orange and red wrappers of some makes of printing papers and developing powders can be used for the covering of these openings. for a chimney, procure a long slender baking-powder can, remove the cover and bottom, and insert it in a hole cut for it in the top of the box. then an arrangement must be made, as shown in fig. , to prevent light from emitting from the top of the can. this consists of a tomato-can placed over the baking-powder can, bottom side up, with its edge fastened in kerfs cut in the ends of four wooden stilts (see illustration). drive the stilts firmly into holes bored for them in the top of the box. the edge of the tomato-can should now be about an inch and one-half above the box, and its bottom an inch or more above the baking-powder can. [illustration: fig. .] below the chimney attach a wooden stilt to the bottom of the lantern, and tack a can cover to the top of it, as shown in the drawing. this forms a cup holder for the candle, which not only catches the drippings, but also makes the lantern fire-proof should the candle burn down to the end before you notice it. bore a number of holes in the bottom of the box, and nail two strips to the under side, as shown. the lamp is now completed with the exception of the door, which should be made in three pieces, with the edges cut and bevelled as shown in figs. and . nail strips _a_ and _c_ to the back of the box, and slip _b_ between them. a screw-eye near the bottom of _b_ will serve as a lift in opening the lantern. as the edges of the strips are cut on a slant and bevelled, a joint which cannot possibly leak light is obtained when _b_ is slipped into place. all cracks in the box should be carefully filled with white lead. in offering this lamp to his boy readers, the writer knows they will find it most satisfactory and a solution to the problem of making a perfect dark-lantern. the air admitted through the holes in the bottom of the box carries the heat and smoke straight into the chimney, and out through the space between the tin cans, making it impossible for the flame to ignite the wood. if you use =a plate-lifter= you will find an old tooth-brush handle tapered at the end by means of a file one of the best that can be had. it is well to have some scheme for =classifying and preserving negatives=.--to keep them in their original boxes is not a good idea, as there is always danger of scratching them and no satisfactory way of keeping track of their description, date of exposure, etc. =manila envelopes=, with a printed form to be filled out, on the outside, are invaluable holders, as they not only make it possible to file away negatives in alphabetical order, but preserve them from dust, scratches, etc. [illustration: fig. .--a negative-case.] the four-by-five size can be bought for about twenty-five cents a hundred from a dealer in photograph supplies; but you can get them much cheaper by going to a paper house and asking for their four-by-five coin-cut manila envelope, which sells in half-thousand lots at about one dollar per thousand. if the quantity is more than you will need, you can probably dispose of a portion of them to your boy friends. with a printing-press or rubber type, the following form should be printed upon the outside, with a rule or space to the right in which to place the descriptions:-- no. description date remarks =a wooden case= to hold the envelopes is desirable, and such a one may be made similar to fig. . for four-by-five negatives the inside of the box should measure twelve inches long, five and one-quarter inches wide, and three inches deep. it will hold about six dozen negatives. very light wood, about three-eighths of an inch thick, should be used for the construction of this case. cut two pieces twelve and three-quarters by three and three-eighths inches for the sides, two pieces six by three and three-eighths for the ends, and one piece twelve by five and one-quarter for the bottom. in cutting the side-and end-pieces, mitre the edges of each so they will make neat corners. the mitre-box should be used for this purpose. nail the pieces together with small finishing nails, after which fasten the bottom-piece between them, driving the nails through the side-pieces into it. the cover is made of a board twelve and three-quarters inches long by six inches wide, with a rim made of four inch-and-one-quarter strips nailed around its edge, as shown in the illustration. two of the strips should be twelve and three-quarters inches long, and the other two six inches long. their ends should be mitred and fitted together as the sides of the box were done, and the top should be nailed to their top edges. this cover fits over the plates, which project an inch above the sides. hinge it to the back of the box, and attach a hook to the front. if you do not keep your plates in envelopes, the sides of the box should be lined with corrugated straw-board to separate them. this may be tacked or glued to the wood. by rubbing down the outside with emery-paper, oiling, shellacking, or varnishing the wood, a very pretty case will be obtained. you will find it a simple matter to pick out a negative by having them filed in the order of their exposure, and catalogued alphabetically in a note-book. chapter xii a winter enterprise [illustration: boys with snow shovel and broom.] boys who keep their eyes open for opportunities to make money are not long in finding that the coming of snow means money in their pockets if they are willing to do a little hustling. a number of years ago a few boys undertook the job of keeping the walks of their neighborhood free from snow, and constructed =a snow plough= with which to do their work. the plough proved so satisfactory that others were made, and before long every boy in the neighborhood had enlisted in the company. by several boys joining forces in this way, and making contracts with property owners to keep their walks and steps free from snow, a good deal of ground can be covered in a short space of time, and a neat sum of money realized during the season. the work can be done before and after school, and be so divided that while several are ploughing the walks the others are cleaning the steps. a plough such as is illustrated in fig. is made in two sections, four feet long by two feet wide. after battening the boards together at _a_ and _b_, as shown in the drawing, fasten the sections in place, with two ends together and the other two ends two feet apart. nail them firmly together at the angle and brace them at the open end with strips, as shown at _c_ and _d_ in the illustration. [illustration: fig. .--a snow plough.] the bottom edge of the plough should be covered with tin, to prevent it from wearing or becoming broken. bore a hole an inch in diameter in each section at _e_, and fasten a broom-handle in them from which to attach the rope tugs. this being done the plough is ready for use. =a scraper= is about the best appliance that can be had for cleaning snow from the steps, especially when the snow has turned to slush. for the making of one of these, prepare a seven-eighths inch board sixteen inches long by four inches wide. bevel the lower edge and nail a two inch strip below the top, as at _a_ in fig. . bore a hole through both thicknesses of wood at _b_ and fit a broom-handle in it, bracing the handle with a piece of wire run from a small hole bored in the handle at _c_ to the ends of the scraper. [illustration: fig. .--a scraper.] figure shows a scheme for =a snow shovel= that is easy to make, and one which will stand a good deal of wear. for this, secure two barrel staves, cut them in two, and plane up the curved edges until they are straight. then taking three of these pieces, lay them side by side and nail a two-by-two inch strip across the top edges, as shown at _a_, to bind them together. the bevelled ends of the staves should be placed at the lower end of the shovel and bound in place by a strip of galvanized iron bent over the edges and tacked to the staves (see _b_ in drawing). another iron strip should be nailed across the staves at _c_, to fasten them more securely together. clinch the nails upon the under side of the shovel and drive their ends well into the wood. procure a broom-stick for the handle and place it in a bevelled slot cut at _d_ (fig. ), fastening down the end with iron pipe-straps, as shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .--an easily made snow shovel.] with the addition of brooms to the plough, scrapers, and shovels, your outfit will be complete and ready for business. [illustration: two boys with fishing pole.] part ii outdoor pastimes [illustration: in camp for the summer.] chapter xiii a back-yard club-house [illustration: boys in discussion, boys work on the club-house.] for many years there stood in a city back-yard a shanty in which the boys of the neighborhood gathered after school and during vacation, to hold their club-meetings. many a pleasant hour was spent within the walls of this little building, and it had to be enlarged year after year to hold the ever-increasing number of members. if, during the week of school preceding the summer vacation, the boys were seen making plans and talking seriously about something evidently in connection with the house, it might well be imagined that the annual alterations were about to begin. at the close of school the neighbors were made aware of it by the appearance of half a dozen boys upon the roof of the shanty, who, with hammers and hatchets in their hands, were easily recognized as the wrecking crew. perhaps the roof was to be raised a foot or given a different pitch, a window changed here or a door placed there, a side extended or a partition built through the centre; but no matter whether the alterations bettered the building or not, they gave the owners a chance to use their ingenuity in working out their schemes, and practice in carpenter work. the boys' greatest difficulty was found in obtaining large enough material with which to build. the woodshed was the lumber-yard, and as this contained only a few old boards, several packing-cases, and kindling-wood, a great deal of splicing was required and many pounds of nails were necessary to fasten the many small pieces in place. after remodelling the club-house one year, the members in way of a joke placed a "for rent" sign upon the door, and were greatly surprised to receive the following mysterious letter:-- mister agent: i sea u hev a house fur rent what u want furit im a wider with children six pigs chickens a mule three dogs cats and ten ducks i hop the house is big enuff it dont matter bout the children but i wont crowd the pigs. i soppose will paint outside an in and put awnins at the frunt winders i'd like terry cotty shades and a stun sidewalk if u'll put a piassie on and reduce the rent till after wurlds fair i'll take it what you want furit please let me know soon if u dont find me hum im like to be at mis whatnots if u dont know the way to her house just ask mis jones next door but one to me she'll tell u good by. mary jane johnstone. the letter was answered immediately and sent to the general delivery but was returned from the dead letter office, and no trace of the large family could be found. [illustration: the back-yard club-house.] knowing that many boys who would like to build themselves a club-house have not the money in their treasury with which to buy new lumber, this chapter will describe the manner in which a rough-and-ready house may be built. it will not be attempted to show the correct methods of putting up a framework, such as would be built if the right-sized lumber were obtainable, but the simplest way in which boys can make use of the material at hand. =draw the plan= of the building upon a piece of paper, and before commencing work figure out exactly what material will be required. if you haven't enough lumber you will find it a great deal easier to alter the plans at first than when the work is half completed. it is best first to place in one pile all =the material= you can find; then, after drawing the plans, sort out the boards according to their lengths. use the short boards whenever possible, so that the long pieces may be kept for places requiring long boards. several two-by-fours should be secured for the framework. if you do not happen to have these, you can easily get what you want at some alteration job or where some frame structure is being torn down. short two-by-fours may be spliced, or, more correctly speaking, "fished." this is very often resorted to in building when studding of a sufficient length cannot be procured. figure shows the method of =fishing studs=.--two fish-plates, _a_ and _b_, are nailed to the sides of the studs, covering the joints, while the face _od_ remains on a level to receive the siding. by building the club-house in a corner of the yard, against the fence, house, or barn, it is necessary to build but two walls. less material is required, and a much firmer structure obtained by doing this. [illustration: fig. .] =stake out= the length and width of the house upon the ground, and sink a stone or a couple of bricks at the corner to support the corner post. then cut two two-by-fours the length of the greatest inside height of the house. set one upon the corner stone, bracing it temporarily with boards run from it to the fence, and spike the other to the fence on a line with the corner post (see _a_ and _b_ in fig. ). cut the end-plate _c_ the correct length and spike it to _a_ and _b_, after which cut a two-by-four the length of the shortest inside height, and spike it to the fence rails at _d_. nail the boards _e_, _f_, _g_, _h_, and _i_ to the places shown in fig. . =the studs= should be placed from two to three feet apart, according to the length of boards used for siding, and additional studding should be set in where it is necessary. fasten the ends of the studs to the boards _e_, _f_, _g_, _h_, and _i_. studding should be placed around the window and door openings, as shown in the illustration. [illustration: fig. .--framework of club-house.] after completing the framework, =board up the sides=, fitting the boards around openings and corners as neatly as possible. =the roof= is a very important factor in a building of any kind, and care should be taken to make it of water-proof material, for a leaky roof will not only ruin the interior but make it damp and thus unhealthy. tar-paper will be found a good roofing material, inexpensive, and easily put on. first cover the roof with boards placed about one inch apart. then cut the tar-paper into lengths equal to the width of the roof. commencing at the lower edge of the roof tack one strip in place. lap a second strip two inches over the first, a third two inches over the second, and so on until the entire roof is covered. figure shows a tin cap and nail made especially for this kind of work. the cap is punched to fit over the nail, and prevents water from running into the hole made by the latter. it will be unnecessary to coat the paper with tar, as there is sufficient in its preparation to keep it water proof a long time--probably longer than the house itself will be allowed to stand. [illustration: fig. .] =the floor= should not be laid directly upon the ground, but be supported upon four-inch sleepers set as shown in fig. , with cinders rammed in between them. the bed of cinders should not be more than three inches thick, so there will be an inch of air space between them and the floor. this will help to keep the floor free from dampness. four-inch boards stood on edge will do very well for the sleepers. [illustration: fig. .--construction of floor.] you can probably make a bargain with a carpenter for =a window-sash.=--they very often have a number taken from old buildings, which they will gladly sell for a small sum. there are two ways in which you can easily fasten the sash in place, either with hinges so it will swing in, as shown in figs. and , or in tracks, to slide as described for the dark-room window in chapter xi and illustrated in fig. . if the window is made in the front of the building, as shown in the sketch of the finished club-house, the sash will necessarily have to be hinged, as there would not be room for it to slide sideways. we will therefore hinge it to swing in as shown in figs. and . the studding which was placed around the window opening when you erected the framework of the house forms a frame for the sash to set in. the window-sill is made out of a seven-eighths-inch board cut the width of the opening, and should be nailed to the bottom piece of the frame so it pitches slightly outwards and its edges project a little beyond the wall inside and out (see fig. ). the pitch of the sill can be obtained by blocking the inner edge with a very thin strip of wood, as shown in the section drawing. the sash should fit the frame with but enough space around it to allow it to open freely. place the sash in the opening with its inside surface on a line with the inside face of the two-by-four frame, as shown in fig. , and nail a seven-eighths-inch window-stop around the frame outside of the sash to keep the rain and wind from entering. [illustration: fig. .--section through window.] [illustration: fig. .--inside of window.] by hinging the sash to the top of the frame as shown in the illustration, it can be swung up out of the way when opened. a spring-catch should be screwed to the bottom rail of the sash with the latch-pocket counter sunk in the window-sill, and from the knob of the catch a cord should be attached and run through a screw-eye placed in the wall near the ceiling. the sash can now be opened by pulling the cord, and may be held open by looping the end of the cord over a nail. wooden buttons should be screwed to the inside edge of the jambs for additional locks (see fig. ). a sill should be set in the bottom of the door frame, and a seven-eighths inch stop nailed to the top and to the jambs in the same way as you finished the window opening. [illustration: fig. .--a batten door.] =make a batten door=, fastening the boards together on the inside with battens as shown in fig. , with the nails driven through from the outside face and clinched upon the battens. hinge the door to the inside face of the jamb with strap-hinges, and either buy an iron latch for it or make the old-fashioned =wooden latch= described and illustrated in the following chapter. with the carpenter work of the house completed, =calk up the cracks=, of which there will doubtless be a great number, unless matched boards have been used for the walls. this may be done by rolling pieces of newspapers into wads and wedging them into the cracks with a pointed stick. several thicknesses of wrapping-paper tacked over the inside walls will help to prevent the wind from entering, and will also make a good foundation for wall-paper should it be placed upon the walls. earth should be banked up around the outside of the house to keep away the water. vines trained over the outside will help to hide the roughness of the boards. the club-house interior may be fitted up with furniture such as is described in chapter iv, "suggestions for a boy's room." chapter xiv how to build a log-cabin [illustration: boy cleaning dishes and boy cooking outside the cabin.] the log-cabin marks what might be called the beginning of american architecture, for it was the first form of building built by white men upon american soil. the introduction of saw-mills was very slow, and lumber so scarce that cabins were the best shelter the colonists could build to withstand the cold winters and the merciless attacks of indians. with the building of saw-mills, the cabin gradually gave way to the frame building, which could be more quickly built, and which was, of course, a more comfortable lodging. but this change first took place up and down the large rivers, where the mills were located, and did not extend into the interior until some time later, owing to the difficulty of hauling lumber to great distances from the mills. to-day the log-cabin is still to be found in the timber regions and among the mountains, but mostly for temporary residences, such as summer homes, camps, and play-houses. [illustration: fig. .--plan for a boy's cabin.] you boys who spend the summer in the woods should not miss the opportunity of building yourselves a small cabin. several boys can join forces, and in this way make the work easier and quicker to perform. =select a site= on high ground, as near to your source of timber as possible, and then decide upon =the design and size to build it=, which will be determined largely by the size and amount of timber you can procure. a plan for a cabin simple in construction is shown in fig. , and while the details have been carefully worked out in this chapter for a cabin of this size, you will find it a simple matter to make such alterations as you wish. for the building of more pretentious cabins, the writer would refer his readers to "log cabins and cottages" as the most practical book published upon this subject. in this volume its author, mr. william s. wicks, has not only written upon the construction and treatment of cabins, but also brought together a number of sketches showing a great variety of clever designs that have been built in different sections of the country. in carrying out the details of construction for the cabin described in this chapter, the writer has made use of a number of ideas from this book, through the courtesy of mr. wicks and his publishers. of course the most of =the material= for the cabin will be secured near at hand, but for a good roof, and the finishing of the door and window openings, a few boards should be taken along, together with several pounds of nails. [illustration: a boys' log cabin.] while it is customary to lay up the walls of a cabin and then cut the door and window openings, you will find it a very much simpler matter to leave the spaces for them when laying up the logs, as it greatly decreases the number of long logs required to build the cabin. as the inside dimensions of the cabin shown in the plan of fig. are ten by twelve feet, the full-length logs--that is, those above and below the window and door openings--should be thirteen feet long for the ends of the cabin and fifteen feet for the front and rear walls. =to start the cabin=, stake out its length and breadth upon the ground, clear the space of all trees and brush, and make the ground as nearly level as possible. you will find it unnecessary to have a foundation for a cabin of this size, as it will not settle to amount to anything. [illustration: fig. .--the lock-joint.] probably the most simple way of joining the logs together is what is known as =the lock-joint.=--as shown in fig. , a notch is cut in the logs twelve inches from each end, so the surfaces of the logs will be brought together when the ends are fitted over one another, as shown in the drawing. select two fifteen-foot logs for =the sills=, and set them an inch or so into the ground, parallel to each other and ten feet apart. then after cutting the notches in two thirteen-foot logs, fit them over the sills twelve inches from the ends. the opening for the fire-place must be left in one end of the cabin, so mark out upon the end log the width of this opening, which should be five feet, and cut out this section of it. then cut two boards three feet long, the height of the fire-place opening, and nail them to the ends of the log just cut. these boards form the jambs of the opening. locate a three-foot door opening in the centre of the front sill-log, and saw along these lines to within two inches of the ground, cutting out the piece between. the remaining two-inch piece will form the door-sill. two pieces of board six feet six inches long, the height of the door opening, should now be cut for the door-jambs and nailed to the ends of the sill-log in the door opening. after testing the jambs with a plumb, such as is shown in fig. , chapter i, to see that they are perpendicular, continue laying the side and end logs alternately. fit the logs between the jambs and nail the latter to their ends, being careful not to get them out of plumb in doing so. above the fire-place the logs will, of course, be of full length, and at a height of four feet four inches the windows will start. locate the window openings twenty-six inches wide upon the logs laid at this height, the one opposite the fire-place in the centre of the wall, and the others twelve inches from the corners. cut the jambs twenty-six inches long, and, after setting them in place, continue laying up the logs, fitting the shorter lengths between the jambs as before. [illustration: fig. .--interior of cabin.] when the desired height of the walls has been reached, which need not be more than seven feet, you will be ready =to construct the roof.=--there are several ways of doing this, but as simple as any is that shown in fig. , and in the illustration of the finished cabin. in laying this form of roof the end logs are placed one above the other, but each tier of front and rear logs is set in a little farther than the preceding pair, until they finally meet at the peak of the roof. the roofs of cabins are generally thatched or covered with bark, shingles, or boards. the thatched roof is the most artistic, and will last from ten to fifteen years when properly made; but unless the straw is put on very thickly and closely woven, it is likely to leak. if you use shingles and expose each four and one-half inches to the weather, you will require about seven quarter-thousand bunches for a roof of this size. boards will make the most simple and inexpensive covering. they should be put on as shown in the drawing of the completed cabin, and in fig. . a layer of boards is first nailed across the roof-supports four inches apart, and other boards then lapped over these spaces and nailed in place. the roof boards should project a few inches over the side walls and gable-ends of the cabin. when all of the boards have been put in place, it will be necessary to finish off the ridge with =ridge boards=, to prevent water from leaking through the roof at that point. as shown in fig. , these consist of two boards nailed along the ridge, and the edge of one nailed to the edge of the other. it is not advisable to build =a log chimney and fire-place= with the intention of using it, for unless the work is very carefully done and kept in repair, there is always danger of setting fire to the cabin. but, nevertheless, it should be built, as it belongs to a cabin and adds greatly to its picturesque appearance. with large logs build up the chimney to a height of five feet, or two feet above the fire-place opening, in the same manner as you did the cabin walls, fitting the ends against the logs of the main structure. when this has been done sink a number of stones in front of the fire-place for a hearth, as shown in figs. and , and also line the bottom of the fire-place with them. then mix up some clay and line the back, sides, and jambs of the fire-place with it from ten to twelve inches thick, packing the clay until it becomes solid. the upper part of the chimney should be made of smaller logs and sticks, and the inside of the flue lined with clay as the work proceeds. the exterior of the chimney will be seen in the illustration of the finished cabin. when the construction of the cabin has been completed, =calk all the spaces= between the logs with clay and moss, to keep out the weather, using a pointed stick for this operation; and grade the ground up to a point just below the line of the door-sill all around the cabin, so that no surface-water will run within. the finishing of the interior of the cabin now remains to be done. by omitting a wooden floor the cost of material will be reduced considerably, and there is really nothing objectionable to =a mud floor= if it has been properly prepared. the earth should be thoroughly dried out and packed down until hard and compact, and slightly banked up around the walls. the sills and heads of =the window openings= and the head of the door opening should be cased with boards the width of the jambs. if you can secure sash for the windows, hinge them to the inside edges of the jambs as shown in fig. , and nail a seven-eighths-inch window-stop around the jambs outside of them, to prevent the wind and rain from getting in around the sash (see fig. ). if sash cannot be obtained, wooden shutters made to fit the opening will do very well, as they can be used at night and whenever you wish to close up the cabin, and when you are within the cabin in the summer you will want the windows open. [illustration: fig. .] after cutting boards of the proper length for =the cabin door=, fasten them together with battens placed at the top, bottom, and centre (see fig. ). then hinge the door to the inside of the jamb with either iron strap-hinges or =wooden hinges= such as are shown in fig. . to make a set of wooden hinges, first cut three blocks of wood four or five inches long and nail them to the cabin wall on a line with the three door battens (see _a_, _b_, and _c_ in fig. ). then prepare three pieces of wood eighteen inches long and two inches wide, and bore a small hole through one end of each, as shown at _d_ in fig. . when these have been made, nail them to the door above the battens so that when the door is put in place their ends will rest on blocks _a_, _b_, and _c_. locate the holes in the eighteen-inch strips upon _a_, _b_, and _c_, and bore holes through the blocks at these points, after which set the door in place and fasten the arms of the hinges to the blocks, either with bolts, as shown in fig. , or with hardwood pegs cut to fit the holes. [illustration: fig. .--the cabin door.] [illustration: figs. - .--details of cabin door.] you will find the old-fashioned =wooden latch= and latch-string a very good and serviceable fastening for a cabin door, the details for the making of which are shown in figs. , , , , and . it consists of three pieces of wood,--a strip two feet long and two inches wide for the latch, with the ends rounded and a hole bored through it at _e_ and another at _f_, as shown in fig. ; a guard cut similar to fig. , with a slot in it about three and one-half inches long and one inch deep; and a catch similar to fig. , with its upper edge rounded so the latch will easily slide into the slot. with the pieces thus prepared you will find it an easy matter to fasten them in the places shown in fig. . the catch is set into the jamb of the door as shown in fig. , the latch is screwed to the door at _e_, and the guard is fastened over the latch in the position shown in fig. . =the latch-string= is fastened to the latch at _f_, and run through a hole bored in the door above the top batten. to the outside end of the latch-string attach a weight of some kind to keep it from pulling through the hole (see fig. ). to lock the door from the inside, you will find a wooden button screwed to the door at _g_ (fig. ) very good, as it prevents the latch from being lifted, when turned against it as shown in the illustration. as in the case of the windows, a seven-eighths-inch stop should be nailed to the door head and jambs outside of the door, for the door to swing against, and to keep out the rain and wind (see fig. ). you will have need of but few pieces of furniture within the cabin, and those can be made very simple, out of material at hand. =a mantel-shelf= out of a board five feet long should be fastened above the fire-place by means of three triangular brackets, and it is a good idea to make your =provision cupboard= to sit upon this, as shown in the drawing of the cabin interior (fig. ). use a couple of the boxes in which you bring your camping outfit for this. set them side by side, as in the illustration, place a shelf or two within them, and, after battening the cover boards together, attach them to the ends of the boxes with hinges cut out of leather. on each side of the fire-place a comfortable =rustic seat= should be built in as shown in figs. and . the drawings clearly show the construction of this. the two legs are driven well into the ground, and a crosspiece is nailed to their tops to support the sticks forming the seat. make the top of the seat about eighteen inches above the ground. while a very comfortable bed may be made upon the ground out of pine boughs, it is well to have at least =two bunks= for guests, who are almost certain to pay you a visit to see what kind of a time you are having, and perhaps test your cooking. these bunks may be double-decked and placed in the corner where they will be pretty well out of the way (see figs. and ). two six-foot poles should be driven into the ground about thirty inches from the wall, and two cross poles notched and fitted on to them as shown in fig. , one six inches above the ground and the other three feet above that. cut a number of sound sticks about three feet long and drive one end of each between the logs of the wall and fasten the other end to the crosspiece opposite. these sticks should be placed about three inches apart. in putting up this framework make everything very strong and solid, to prevent any mishaps to the occupants. the bunks should now be covered with pine boughs, cut into small pieces and spread over the sticks evenly and to a depth of two inches. when these have been properly placed, spread a doubled quilt or blanket over them, and the bunks will be completed. [illustration: two simple cabins.] as we decided not to use our fire-place for fires, owing to the danger of setting fire to the cabin through some defects in the workmanship, or the cracking of the clay lining, build your camp fire-place outside of the cabin. you will find it more enjoyable to also eat in the open when the weather permits, so build =a camp-table= between the trees for this purpose. it may be made out of two eight-inch boards fastened together on the under side with battens, and supported at one end on a cleat nailed across the trunk of a tree and at the other on two poles driven into the ground. the height of this table will be determined by the height of the boxes, stools, or whatever you use for seats. it is a simple matter to make a long rustic seat on each side of the table, and if this is done make them eighteen inches high and the table twelve inches higher. those of you who have camped have probably had enough experience to know what utensils and provisions are required, but =a few pointers= may be profitable to the boy who has never been initiated into camp life. =utensils= of the commonest kind should be taken along. an old frying-pan, a coffee-pot, two water pails, a tin pan and wash-basin, tin plates and drinking cups, some old spoons, knives, and forks, a can-opener, and a jack-knife are about all you will be in need of. among =other necessities= are blankets, towels, dish-cloths, rags, soap, rope, and string, matches, a lantern, and an axe, a saw, and nails. =for provisions=, take as much canned food as possible, as it requires but little preparation, is easily carried, and not likely to spoil. bacon and eggs are, of course, to be included in your list, as they belong to a camper's bill o' fare, are very satisfying to a fellow's appetite when he has returned to camp hungry after a day's tramp through the woods, and a boy will have but little trouble in cooking them. be sure you know how to prepare whatever food you take along to cook, before starting for camp, and don't experiment upon dishes you have never attempted, or you will probably make a mess of your materials, as is generally the case, the result of which will not be fit to eat. should there be fishing near the site of your camp, learn the proper preparation of fish for your table. chapter xv how to build a canvas canoe [illustration: boys canoeing.] canoeing is a most delightful outdoor sport, and one of the healthiest in which a boy can indulge during his vacation days. its popularity can plainly be seen by visiting any lake or stream, and noting what a large percentage of the small craft dotting its surface are canoes of various shapes and sizes, paddled by boys of all ages. for speed and the ease with which it can be carried about, the birch-bark canoe has no equal, but very few boys own them, as they are expensive, and their construction is more difficult than those of other material which will satisfy a boy fully as well. the canvas canoe is more widely used at the present time than any other form, which is no doubt due to the fact that it is very simple to make and keep in repair, and the cost of its material is small. in building a canvas canoe there are two important things to consider,--its weight and strength. these depend upon the material used. the framework must be made stiff enough to hold its shape, as the canvas adds but little to its strength, and at the same time the wood should be as light as possible. there are a great variety of =materials= from which to choose for building the framework, among which basswood, ash, spruce, and pine may be classed. the canoe described and illustrated in this chapter may have its ribs, ribbands, and gunwales made out of lattice-strips and barrel-hoops, which will save the cost of having them cut to the right size at a mill. pine or fir lattice-strips of good sound stuff are generally easy to obtain in all locations. sizes of strips and pieces required piece of -inch by -inch plank feet long for bow and stern pieces. -inch by / -inch lattice strips feet long for ribbands, gunwales, keel, and bilge-keels. barrel-hoops for ribs and deck braces. strip feet long, inches wide, and inch thick for keelson. strips feet long, inches wide, and / -inch thick for deck ridge pieces. strips feet long, inches wide, and / -inch thick for cockpit frame and coaming. several -inch and -inch boards from which to cut deck beams, patterns, etc. copper nails and brass screws should be purchased for fastening the framework together, and copper tacks for putting on the canvas. iron nails will rust and break off, and therefore should not be used in any part of the canoe's construction. use nails only where their ends can be clinched, and screws in all cases where this cannot be done. for covering the framework, three and one-half yards of canvas forty inches wide will be required for the lower portion, and the same amount thirty inches wide will be required for the deck. boiled linseed-oil should be purchased for filling the canvas and the best grade of mixed paint for painting it. a drab, or cream color and white trimmings, are both suitable for a canoe. if the latter is used, buy white paint, and, after pouring out enough to cover the finishing strips, mix the rest with enough yellow ochre to make a pretty shade of cream. below will be found a bill of the material required to build a canoe such as this chapter describes, and although the prices of canvas and a few of the fittings are likely to fluctuate somewhat, the price of the canoe should not exceed this amount, and there are locations where it may be less. bill of material - / yards no. duck, inches wide, cents $ . - / yards no. duck, inches wide, cents . - / pounds -inch copper nails, cents . pounds / -inch copper tacks, cents . dozen / -inch brass screws (flat heads), cents . dozen / -inch brass screws (flat heads), cents . dozen / -inch brass screws (round heads), cents . / gallon boiled linseed-oil . / gallon best quality mixed paint . lattice-strips, feet long . piece of -inch by -inch plank feet long . miscellaneous strips and pieces (see page ) . ---- total cost $ . [illustration: fig. .--bow and stern pieces.] [illustration: fig. .] having procured the necessary material for the canoe, the first things to make are =the bow and stern pieces= (see fig. ).--the proper way of laying these out on the eight-inch plank is shown in fig. . first cut the plank in half, and then place these two pieces side by side upon the floor or work-bench as shown in the drawing one piece upon which to draw the pattern, and the other upon which to locate the centre for drawing the curves. then square the line _ab_ across the planks, and locate the points _d_ and _e_ on either side of it, by means of the measurements given upon the drawing. the most satisfactory scheme for =drawing the curves= is with a piece of cord, to one end of which a pencil has been tied (see fig. ). with this as your compass, hold the end of the cord at _d_ for a centre, and with a radius of ten and one-quarter inches strike an arc cutting the line _ab_ as at _c_. _c_ is now the required centre for drawing the curves. drive a small nail into the plank at _c_, and wind the end of the compass cord around it until the correct length of radius is obtained (see drawing). describe the arc _de_ with a radius equal to _cd_, or ten and one-quarter inches. then with a ruler lay off along the line _ab_ the distances for the other arcs, as shown in the drawing. _fg_ will be two inches from _de_, _hi_ an inch and one-half from _fg_, and _jk_ an inch and one-quarter from _hi_. having located these points and described the arcs, draw the lines _cd_ and _ce_, extending them so as to cut off the arcs, as in the drawing. at the upper end of the pattern draw the line _lm_ one inch from and parallel to _fd_. with a radius of an inch and three-quarters and the centre _n_ describe an arc as shown in the drawing. at the lower end of the pattern draw the line _op_ two inches from and parallel to _gk_, and the line _qr_ one inch from and parallel to _pk_. having carefully drawn out this pattern, turn over the plank and draw the same thing upon it, locating the points exactly opposite one another, by squaring lines across the sides and edge. prepare the other piece of plank similarly. to cut out the patterns, place them in the vise of your work-bench, one at a time, and rabbet the surfaces between _de_ and _fg_, and _fg_ and _hi_, as shown in the section drawing, fig. . this done reverse the piece and do the same to that side. when these surfaces have been trued up carefully, remove the piece from the vise and saw the pattern from it. in doing this, first saw along the lines _dj_ and _ek_, and cut out the corners _flmd_ and _pqrk_. then follow roughly the curves of lines _de_ and _jp_, after which place the work in the vise and trim them off nicely with a draw-knife, rounding the outer curve as shown in fig. . the portion _oqrg_ should be cut down to a plain surface as shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--section through bow and stern pieces.] with the bow and stern pieces completed, the most difficult part of your work has been accomplished. now pick out the eight-foot strip procured for =the keelson=.--square off the ends so that it is exactly eight feet long, and then, commencing six inches from one end, lay off mortises for the ribs (see fig. ). these mortises should be cut half an inch deep and the width of the barrel-hoops, and their centres should be spaced twelve inches apart. [illustration: fig. .--the keelson.] in order to give the correct shape to the canoe in putting the framework together, it will be necessary to make =a mould= similar to fig. . fasten together two boards about two feet long with battens, as shown in the drawing, and with a piece of cord to which a pencil has been attached describe a semicircle upon it, using a radius of eleven and one-half inches. saw out the mould carefully, and in the centre of the bottom cut a mortise two inches by one-half for the keelson to fit in. [illustration: fig. .--the mould.] everything should now be in readiness =to put the framework together=.--in order to give the keelson the proper slope of one inch between its centre and ends, nail two blocks of wood one inch thick to the work-bench eight feet apart, and rest the ends of the keelson upon them. then fasten the ends of the keelson in the mortises cut in the bottom of the bow and stern pieces. set the mould which you have prepared over the exact centre of the keelson, and fasten it in place temporarily. when this has been done take two lattice-strips for =the gunwales=, and after locating the exact centre of each, screw them at this point to the ends of the mould just below the top. drive these screws but part way in, as the mould is to be removed later on. commencing at the bow end of the canoe, draw the end of one gunwale to the bow piece, and, after marking it the correct length cut it off so it will fit nicely in the rabbet cut in the side of the bow piece. then screw the other end to the stern piece, after which attach the gunwale on the opposite side in the same way (see figs. , , and ). now take the barrel-hoops which are to be used for ribs, and fasten them in the mortises cut for them in the keelson, bending their ends until they come inside of the gunwales. then fasten them to the gunwales and trim their ends so as to be even with the top of the canoe (see figs. and ). [illustration: fig. .--top view of canoe, showing gunwales, ribs, and ribbands in place.] [illustration: fig. .--side view of canoe, showing framework completed.] [illustration: fig. .--top view of canoe, showing framework completed.] after fastening the ribs in place, =the ribbands= should be put on. pick out eight of the soundest lattice-strips you have, and fasten these at their centre to the sides of the mould, placing four on each side of the keelson and spacing them at equal distances. as the mould is only temporary, do not fasten the ribbands to it securely, but drive in the nails part way. then, beginning at the bow, draw the ends of the ribbands to the bow piece one at a time, and cut them off so they will fit neatly into the rabbet. screw them in place, being careful to space them as equally as possible, after which attach the stern ends in the same way. figure shows the top view of the canoe at this stage of its construction. [illustration: figs. - .--details of deck beam and ridge.] =the deck beams= should now be made and put in place, one each side of the cockpit, or fourteen inches from the centre of the canoe (see fig. ). at this point measure the exact distance between the gunwales, and lay it off upon a four-inch board (see fig. ). the top of this piece should be curved as shown in the drawing, and a mortise two inches wide by five-eighths of an inch deep should be cut in the edge for the deck ridge pieces to fit in. as a means of preventing the gunwales from spreading, it is best to dovetail the ends of the deck beams into them (see fig. ). cut a tongue half an inch long and half an inch thick on each end of the beams, as shown in fig. , undercutting it slightly, as in the drawing, to make it wedge-shaped. then, having prepared the ends, place the beams in the positions they will occupy in the framework, and mark upon the top of the gunwales the shape of the tongues. mortise the gunwales at these points (fig. ), so the tongues can be slipped into them and fastened in place. by examining the corners of a drawer you will see clearly how the dovetail joint is made. =the ridge pieces= are strips running from the deck beams to the bow and stern pieces (see figs. and ). for this canoe, they should be made out of a strip two inches wide by five-eighths of an inch thick. cut them of correct length to reach from the mortises in the tops of the deck beams to the mortises cut in the tops of the bow and stern pieces. mortises two inches wide and a quarter inch deep should be cut along the top of these ridges, as shown in fig. , to receive the deck braces. securely screw the ridges in place. then cut twelve pieces of barrel-hoops for =the deck braces=, and fit them in the mortises made in the ridge pieces. screw these in place and bend their ends until they can be fastened to the inside face of the gunwales. the curve of these braces should be the same as that of the deck beams, so it will be possible to put on the deck canvas neatly (see figs. and ). the space between the deck beams is left for =the cockpit=, the frame for which we are now ready to prepare. first remove the mould, being careful that the framework does not spread in doing so. then cut two two-inch strips to fit between the deck beams, and fasten one on each side of the cockpit two inches from the gunwale (see fig. ). when this has been done take the strip eight feet long, four inches wide, and one-quarter inch thick, procured for the cockpit frame, and bend it around the opening, fastening it to the sides of the deck beams and the side strips. the top edge of the frame should now be shaved off with a draw-knife, so that it will be on a line with the deck braces at every point (see fig. ). this is necessary in order to make the curve of the deck around the cockpit the same as elsewhere. the framework of the canoe is now completed, and should be painted and left to dry before you go on with the rest of the work. it is no easy matter to stretch =the canvas covering= over the framework without having it wrinkle, but with the help of a boy friend it can be stretched fairly even, and with care and patience may be made to look neat. turn the framework bottom side up and, after finding the centre of the forty-inch strip of canvas, lay it along the keelson from bow to stern. smooth it over the surface with your hands, and start a few tacks along the keelson to hold it in place. as a means of keeping the canvas stretched over the bottom of the framework while working upon it, attach several weights to the edges; then, with your helper on the side opposite you, commence at the middle rib and stretch the canvas down that rib to the gunwales, starting a couple of tacks in the gunwales to hold it in place. then work along each rib from the centre of the framework toward the bow, and then from the centre toward the stern, stretching the canvas as tightly as possible, and driving tacks along the gunwales not farther than one inch apart. you will find that the only way to get the canvas on smoothly is by removing the tacks wherever any wrinkles appear and, after restretching it, replacing the tacks. as the tacks will probably have to be removed a number of times during the operation, it is advisable to drive them in but a little way at first. it is most difficult to make a neat job at the bow and stern, and a few wrinkles will probably remain, no matter how much pains are taken in fitting the canvas, on account of the narrowing of the canoe at these points. fill the outer mortise made in the bow and stern pieces with paint, and, after folding the edges of the canvas, tack it in these mortises. place the tacks as close as their heads will permit, which, together with the paint, will make a joint that water cannot penetrate. now examine the canoe carefully, and, if you have smoothed out the wrinkles as much as possible, drive home the tacks and trim the canvas close to the gunwales. =the deck= is much easier to cover. spread the piece of thirty-inch canvas over it from bow to stern, with the centre of the canvas running along the centre of the deck, and place a tack in it at the bow and another at the stern. stretch the canvas in the same manner as when covering the bottom of the framework, and lap it over the gunwales, tacking it along the outer edge. cut through the canvas at the cockpit, and trim it off so there will be just enough to lap around the cockpit frame. trim the canvas along the gunwales so that it does not project more than an inch. after the deck has been covered, the canoe is ready for =painting=.--a coat of linseed-oil should first be applied to the canvas, to fill the pores and make a good foundation for the paint. then allow the canvas to dry thoroughly, after which give it a coat of paint,--cream, or whatever color you have selected. when this has dried, rub it down with pumice-stone or fine emery-paper, and apply a second coat. all that now remains to complete the canoe is the attachment of the cockpit coaming, the keel, bilge-keels, and the outside gunwales. take the strip eight feet long, four inches wide, and one-quarter inch thick, which you procured for =the cockpit coaming=, bend it around the frame of the pit, and cut off the ends so they will join neatly. then fasten it to the cockpit frame, allowing two inches to project above the deck, and shave off the top edge the same as you did the cockpit frame, so it will be two inches above the deck at every point. for a small canoe built for paddling only, it is unnecessary to have anything more than a strip fastened to the bottom for =the keel=.--so cut a lattice-strip eight feet in length, and screw it along the bottom of the keelson (see fig. ). =the bilge-keels= are lattice-strips fastened along the sides of the canoe as a protection to the canvas, and should be attached directly over the ribbands. one of these on the centre ribband of each side will be sufficient (see fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the canvas canoe completed.] for a finish to the upper edge of the canoe, =outside gunwales= should be attached outside of the present ones. these will cover the joint between the canvas of the deck and the lower portion of the framework. all of these outside strips should be fastened in place with the round-headed screws, after which they should be painted. figure shows the canoe completed. =a seat= is desirable for the bottom of the canoe, for comfort as well as to prevent your feet from wearing out the canvas. this seat should be movable, so it may be taken out to drain the water from the bottom of the canoe, and may be made as shown in fig. . batten together two six-inch boards upon their under face and notch the two side edges to fit over the ribs of the framework (see fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--seat.] in order to keep your canoe in good condition, do not allow it to remain in the water for any length of time when not using it, as the canvas would soon rot by doing so. after a spin, pull it out of the water, and turn it upside down to dry; then put it away under cover to remain until again wanted for use. with the greatest of care a boy will puncture his canoe once in a while, so it is a good idea for him to know =how to mend punctures=.--there are several ways of doing this, but the best is by either sewing a piece of canvas over the puncture and then painting it with white lead, or daubing the canvas around the hole with varnish, and then laying a canvas patch over it and varnishing it. the making of a well-shaped paddle is no easy matter for an amateur to accomplish, so it is advisable for a boy to procure =a hand-made single paddle=, such as can be bought for a dollar and a half. this is generally made of selected spruce, with a copper-tipped end, and is nicely finished. the length of the paddle will depend upon the size of the boy who is going to use it, but should be between four feet six inches and five feet. it may be well to warn those who build canvas canoes about the ease with which they are overturned. as long as the boy remains seated he is perfectly safe, but the moment he attempts to change his position, he need not be surprised if he receives a ducking. upsets are common in canoe-racing, and especially in a close finish, where one paddler after another overbalances himself in his efforts to beat out his companions. but these only add to the fun of such a race, and no harm is done if the canoeist prepares for them beforehand by putting on his bathing suit. chapter xvi home-made traps [illustration: boys trapping.] trapping and trap-making is, and probably always will be, a pastime which every boy enjoys. if he lives in the country or near the woods he is sure to grow fond of the wild creatures around him, and spend some time in following their tracks and watching their ways and habits. if he is a city boy he may not have these advantages, but is probably just as much interested in the study of birds and animals as his country cousin is, and when the opportunity presents itself will slip off to the nearest woods to spend the day with his little friends, and perhaps carry one or two back home to share city life with him. when boys wish to trap animals for pets, or for eating while camping, or when they have become so numerous in a locality as to be a nuisance, it can be considered clean sport; but as soon as they begin to trap and kill them just for the fun of it, without deriving any good whatever from the act, they are guilty of a great cruelty. the various forms and schemes for home-made traps that have been devised, and which are to be found in use by boys all over the country, are countless, but there are of course a number of these which are more effective than others, and some which have gained more favor among boys. several years ago the author wrote an article upon traps, and has since been more than pleased to note the success boys have had in making and using them. with a few additions, the same schemes have been embodied in this chapter, and it is hoped that the several kinds of snares and traps will prove as satisfying to the majority of boy trappers. they are all simple to make, require but the material ordinarily at hand, and are effective for most of the smaller species of animals, and many varieties of birds. [illustration: fig. .--stick for the figure-four trap.] [illustration: fig. .--the figure-four.] [illustration: fig. .--the figure-four trap set.] one of the oldest forms of traps, and one of which every boy should understand the construction, is =the figure-four trap=.--it is about the simplest example, and its principle will be found in the schemes of a great many of the more complicated traps. for this the preparation of three sticks, such as are shown in fig. , will be necessary. these sticks may be made of any length you wish, but their proportion should be about as shown in the drawings. the illustrations show clearly how the sticks should be notched, and how one end of the trigger should be tapered for the bait. fig. will explain the manner in which these sticks are placed together in the form of a figure-four. the rest of the trap consists of a soap-or cracker-box with the cover hinged to it. to set the trap, place the box upon the ground, cover down, and rest its upper edge upon the top of the figure-four, as shown in fig. . when putting the figure-four together, it is necessary to hold the sticks until the box is set upon them, as the weight is required to hold them in position. for squirrels and rabbits, for which this trap is very good, bait the trigger with a carrot, piece of apple, or cabbage leaf. it is easy to see that the slightest nibble at the bait will disarrange the sticks, and cause the box to drop over the game. [illustration: figs. - .--a box trap.] in fig. is shown an invention of the writer's, a simplified form of the much-used =box trap=, having the principle of the figure-four involved in its trigger. this trap has proven exceptionally good for rabbits and squirrels. a small box about the size of a cracker-or soap-box should be procured for the making of this trap. remove one end, and, after nailing it to the cover boards, hinge the latter to the end of the box, as shown in the illustrations (figs. and ). with no hinges at hand, the writer has found several nails driven through the ends of the cover boards sufficient to hold the cover while opening and closing it. bore two holes, one over the other, in the back of the box, and cut out the space between. this makes a rectangular slot (see _d_ in fig. ). when this has been done, take a stick about eighteen inches long, and, after tapering one end, nail it to the box cover, allowing the tapered end to project about nine inches. then prepare a trigger twelve inches long, similar to fig. . the trap is now ready to set, which is done by slipping the trigger into the slot at _d_ and, after baiting it at _c_, catching the notch _b_ on to the box at the top of the slot, at the same time fitting stick _e_ into the notch at _a_ (see cross section, fig. ). the weight of the cover will now hold the trigger in place until "bunny," or some one of his neighbors, attacks the inviting bait. then the trigger will loosen its hold at _b_, and cause the cover to fall over the intruder. a few holes may be bored in the side of the box for ventilation, but these, as well as the slot in the back, should be protected with tin, to prevent your captive from gnawing the openings large enough to escape. =the dead fall= is a trap commonly used for skunks, minks, muskrats, and coons, and probably cannot be excelled as a means of killing off destructive and annoying animals. figure shows a form of this trap which has been successfully employed. first make a pen out of stakes driven well into the ground in the form of a wigwam. this is a guard for the bait, and should be open on one side only, as shown in the illustration. place a short log in front of the opening, and at both ends of this drive a stake against the outer face of the log, as shown in the drawing. then procure a log of the same diameter, and about six feet long, and slip it between these stakes and the wigwam, so it falls upon the first log. cut a forked stick about twelve inches long for the bait-stick, notching one end and tapering the other, as shown in fig. , and cut another stick twenty-four inches long and flatten it at both ends. [illustration: fig. .--the bait-stick. fig. .--the dead fall.] to set the dead fall, raise an end of the upper log and slip one end of the flattened stick under it, resting it upon the top of the stake outside of the log. place the bait-stick, point downward, inside of the pen upon a chip of wood, and set the other end of the flattened stick in the notch (see illustration). the bait-stick should now be in such a position that the log above it will fall when the bait is tackled, and strike its victim on the head or neck with sufficient force to kill it. for baiting this trap, use some food of which the animal is particularly fond. [illustration: fig. .--the coop trap.] =the sieve trap.=--this is a most simple form of trap, consisting of a sieve and a short stick with which to prop up one side of it. fasten a long cord to the stick, and, after scattering grain beneath the sieve, carry the end of the cord to a place of concealment to await the appearance of some birds. as soon as these are attracted by the grain, and begin feeding under the sieve, pull the cord and they will be your prisoners. =the coop trap=, shown in fig. , can be used for trapping the larger variety of birds. this is well known as an effective trap for wild turkeys. it consists of a number of sticks piled up in the form of a pyramid and tied together as shown in fig. . dig away enough of the ground under one side of the coop to allow a bird to enter, and then scatter some grain inside and a little in the entrance to attract the birds. [illustration: fig. . fig. . fig. . fig. . a rabbit snare and twitch-up.] it may seem strange to the reader, but it is nevertheless a fact, that, after entering the coop, a bird will try to fly out of the top, and will remain there until starved to death, if not released, without attempting to escape by the way it entered. =a rabbit snare.=--this can be used to the best advantage after the first snowfall, for the footprints of a rabbit are then easy to follow. bunny can be counted upon keeping in the same path to and from his burrow, and a snare set in the centre of his path is pretty certain to catch him before very long. the snare should be made of a piece of soft wire about two feet long. make a noose in one end about four inches in diameter, and fasten the other end to a branch projecting over the path (see fig. ). this noose is commonly attached to what is known as =a twitch-up=, or a sapling bent down and held as shown in fig. . one of a number of schemes employed for holding the sapling in position is here shown. select a spot a few feet from a sapling, and there make an enclosure about twelve inches in diameter. this should be made of twelve-inch sticks driven into the ground in a circle, leaving an opening of about six inches on one side. drive a stake into the ground on both sides of the entrance, and cut a notch in the outer face of each about six inches above the ground (see fig. ). find a twig somewhat similar to the one in fig. , and, after slipping it into the notches and baiting the prong, fasten the noose and sapling to it. with the trap thus set, a slight pull on the bait dislodges the crosspiece, and the sapling springs up, jerking the animal into the air, and causing its death almost instantly. [illustration: caught at last.] ranchers of the western plains and mountains are continually experiencing severe losses from the attacks of wolves and coyotes upon their live-stock, and to rid themselves from the nightly raids of these animals requires unceasing warfare against them with traps. but the wolf and coyote are very crafty fellows, and extremely keen-scented, so that even professional trappers have trouble in capturing them, often resorting to every scheme they can devise without success. steel traps are generally employed by the professional, as they are less cumbersome and quicker to set than the home-made affairs. the traps are handled with gloves, as the touch of the bare hands would be instantly detected by the wary animals, and, after being placed in a circle around the bait, are covered over with leaves and brush. in order not to leave human footprints behind him, the trapper often sets them while mounted upon horseback. not long ago, a trapper was hired by a rancher in new mexico to capture some loboe wolves which had been making serious raids upon the cattle, and one of his experiences while working there was somewhat laughable, though probably not seen in that way by all the parties concerned. using a dead calf for bait, the trapper dragged it to a selected spot, and there surrounded it by eight or ten traps, which he chained fast to stakes, and carefully hid from view. setting out to visit the traps as usual, on the following morning, he mounted a knoll from which he could see the location of the bait, and there plainly made out that a number of his traps had been sprung and were occupied. but upon reaching the spot, his surprise and disgust can be imagined when he found a dog in one trap and a bad-tempered indian held fast by the clutches of three others. after releasing the captives, the trapper gathered from the indian's half-broken english that he had been riding by on the previous night, and his dog had wandered from the trail and sprung a trap. he had then dismounted to release the animal, but had not taken more than half a dozen steps before his foot became clutched in a trap, the force of which threw him forward, and, in trying to break his fall with his outstretched hands, each became securely clutched in traps. fortunately no wolves made their appearance, and the couple were unharmed; but the indian no doubt spent a sleepless and uncomfortable night in the position he was forced to occupy. chapter xvii toy guns, targets, and bows and arrows [illustration: boys at target practise] [illustration: figs. - .--examples of ancient guns.] some of the old war engines used in europe before the introduction of gunpowder were most ingeniously contrived, and were wonderfully effective, considering that their projective force was obtained by means of springs and levers. it is hard to find many good examples, as authorities have badly confused them, but the writer has been fortunate in securing drawings of what he believes to be pure types of the most commonly used guns. these are reproduced on page , believing that the average boy will be interested to see the kind of weapons that were employed in warfare centuries ago. with a little study, the working of these guns will be clearly understood without further explanation than what is given upon the drawings. the catapult (fig. ) and the trebuchet (fig. ) were used for storming fortifications, and each hurled large stones. the trebuchet was a much later invented machine than the catapult, and, being built on a much larger scale, was more powerful. it is claimed that trebuchets were often built large enough to hurl carcasses of horses into an enemy's fortifications. the ballista (fig. ) was in reality a large cross-bow, built to shoot long, heavy bolts or arrows. the illustration shows a form mounted upon wheels for field service. the cross-bow (fig. ) was a weapon used by the foot-soldiers of a number of european countries. it was in use in england for some time, but, on account of the terrible wounds inflicted by its short barbed arrows, was finally forbidden and superseded by the long-bow. [illustration: figs. - .--a cross-bow.] some ideas for the making of toy shot-guns and pistols, worked by springs and levers much the same as the ancient guns, will be appreciated by the boy who is denied the use of firearms. the schemes illustrated and described on the following pages will be found easy to carry out, and such as will furnish enjoyment for many a day in the woods or back-yard. figure shows a new idea for =a cross-bow.=--the stock for this should be cut out of a tongued-and-grooved board, with the groove running along the top, and a mortise should be made at _a_ in which to set the trigger. this mortise should be about two inches long and as wide as the thickness of the board will permit, and is made by boring a couple of holes through the stock at this point, and cutting out the wood between with a chisel. select a strong barrel-hoop for the bow, and fasten it at its centre in a hole cut for it at _b_, driving a nail into it at _c_. the trigger should be made similar to _d_ in fig. . cut block _e_ out of a piece of tongued board, leaving the tongue to fit the groove in the gunstock. notch the bottom to fit over _d_ (see fig. ). place a tack in each side of the block, and run cords from them to the end of the bow. these cords must be of such a length that the bow will bend almost to its limit when block _e_ is placed over the trigger. a heavy rubber band should be attached to the lower end of the trigger, and to a tack at _f_. this must be strong enough to cock the trigger. the cross-bow will shoot either pebbles or arrows, but the latter are the most satisfactory. [illustration: fig. .--shingle arrows for cross-bow.] =shingle arrows= are very good, as they shoot straight, and are so quickly made as to be easily replaced by a fresh lot when lost or broken. mark them out as shown in fig. , with the head at the thick edge of the shingle and the tail at the thin edge, and cut them out with your jack-knife. the head and tail are made flat on one side, so as to lie flat in the groove of the gun. =a toy pistol= can also be made out of a tongued-and-grooved board. some such shape as shown in fig. should first be drawn upon the board, with the groove extending along the top. cut this out with your jack-knife, and make a mortise for the trigger. cut the trigger similar to fig. , fastening it in place with a brad driven through it at _a_. it will be noticed that the trigger is notched at both ends. these notches are for a rubber band, which should be stretched from the upper notch of the trigger, over the muzzle, and around to the lower notch, as shown in the drawing. the rubber band lies in the groove in the top of the pistol. [illustration: figs. - .--a toy pistol.] =the bullets= for this pistol consist of pieces of cardboard cut into small squares. to load the pistol, slip one of the squares through the rubber band as shown in fig. , so that it rests on top of the groove, as shown in fig. . upon pulling the trigger the bullet will shoot out of its position, and though naturally one might think the loop of the rubber band would catch the card, it is not the case. the card frees itself and travels in a straight line in the direction in which the pistol is aimed. it is advisable to keep this pistol out of range of your companions' faces. =a shot-gun= can be made on the same scheme as the pistol, by cutting a stock the size of that used for the cross-bow (fig. ), and fastening several rubber bands together to extend around the added length. [illustration: fig. .] =an elastic sling= made with a wire framework, as shown in fig. , is an improvement over the one made out of a tree crotch, as it is not easily broken. about no. wire, which is the thickness of eight-penny nails, should be bought for this. with a pair of pincers, bend it into the shape shown in the drawing, with loops at _a_ and _b_. wrap the handle with cord, and attach strong rubber bands to _a_ and _b_, with a piece of shoe leather or kid glove set in between, at _c_. [illustration: fig. .--a barrel-hoop target.] a most satisfactory scheme for =a boy's target= is shown in fig. . it consists of a barrel-hoop, fastened by means of staples to a wooden platform, as shown in the illustration. pack the inside of the hoop with earth which has been moistened sufficiently to make it hold together, and place a piece of paper over it, pasting it to the edges of the hoop. the paper will be stretched as tight as a drumhead when dry. five rings should then be painted upon it, as shown in the illustration. fasten screw-eyes in the top of the platform, and hang the target by these wherever you wish to use it. by preparing several sheets of paper, a fresh piece may be pasted over the hoop after one has been filled with holes. the earth will prevent the paper from splitting, and will be soft enough for the end of an arrow to stick into. should the earth become too dry, it may be moistened each time a new paper is put in place. [illustration: fig. .--a simpler target.] =a simpler target=, and a scheme which will answer a boy's purpose, if he does not care to go to the trouble of making the hoop target, is shown in fig. . a circular piece of cardboard, with five rings painted upon it, is tacked to the end of a broom-handle, and this is stuck into the ground. =points are scored= in target shooting as follows: bull's-eye points; second ring, points; third ring, points; fourth ring, points; fifth, or outside ring, point. =the bow and arrow= is always popular with boys who are forbidden the use of guns. authorities claim that the best materials from which to make bows are mulberry, sassafras, southern cedar, black locust, black walnut, apple, and slippery elm, in the order named; but if a boy selects what appears to be a good sound piece of wood, with straight grain, he has something which will suit the purpose. [illustration: fig. .--a boy's bow.] =the length of the bow= should be about the height of the person using it. figure shows a five-foot bow, with the other proportions such as are on makes to be found in the stores. cut your piece of wood five feet long, and, after placing it in the bench-vise, shape it down with a draw-knife or plane until it is one inch wide by one-half inch thick at the handle and three-quarters of an inch wide by one-quarter inch thick at the ends. the bow can be made round on the inside or face toward the archer, and flat on the outside or face away from the archer, or the two faces may be made round. cut a notch in the bow two inches from each end, as shown in the illustration, from which to attach =the bow-string.=--a cord with as little elasticity as possible should be used for this. if you care to spend the money for it, a good cotton string can be purchased from a dealer in archery goods for twenty-five cents. with a home-made bow-string, a loop should be made in one end and bound with thread, as shown in fig. . slip the loop over the upper notch, bend the bow until the centre of the string is about five inches away from the handle, and attach the loose end to the lower notch by means of a slip-knot similar to that shown in fig. . the bow should be sand-papered until smooth, and thoroughly oiled with linseed-oil. a piece of velvet about three inches wide should be glued about the centre for a handle. [illustration: fig. . bow-string ends. fig. .] for a five-foot bow, cut =the arrow-shafts= twenty-four inches long and one-quarter inch thick. whittle them out of straight-grained strips of wood, round them nicely, and cut a notch in the ends large enough to fit over the bow-strings. it is not supposed that boys would care =to prepare arrow-heads= of stone or bone as the indians did, for there are other schemes that are simpler to carry out. if the wood is reasonably hard, the heads can be cut on the ends of the shaft, as shown in fig. . for target practice, a wire nail driven into the end of the shaft, as shown in fig. , with the head of the nail filed off and pointed, has proven very good, and a thick piece of zinc or lead, cut the shape of _a_ (fig. ) and set into a slot cut in the end of the shaft, with cord bound around the shaft to hold the metal in place, makes another excellent head. the metal points should be used only for target practice, and then with proper care, to prevent injury to yourself or companions. [illustration: figs. - .--schemes for arrow-heads.] =feathering= is the next operation. turkey or goose feathers are generally used, but the former is considered the better of the two. strip off the broader side of the vane of three feathers, and glue them to the shaft one and one-quarter inches from the notch, spacing them equidistant from one another. one feather should be placed at right angles to the notch. this is known as the cock-feather, and should always point away from the bow when the arrow is shot. =a quiver= of some sort should be provided, large enough to carry a dozen or more arrows, and this should be three inches shorter than the arrows, so that their ends will project above the top. it may be made out of any thick cloth, as shown in fig. . a circular piece of cardboard is placed in the bottom to which the cloth is sewed, and a piece of heavy wire, bent into a circle, fits in the top to keep the bag open. the quiver should hang on your right side, being suspended by means of a cloth strap long enough to pass over the left shoulder. [illustration: fig. .--a quiver.] =to shoot= with the bow, take the position shown in fig. , with both feet flat upon the ground, and the heels in line with the target. hold the handle of the bow in the left hand and place an arrow on the left side of the bow, slipping the bow-string into the notch and letting the head of the arrow rest upon your left hand. catch the bow-string with the first three fingers of your right hand, so that the end of the arrow comes between the first and second fingers, and draw the string until the head of the arrow rests upon the left hand; then aim quickly and let go of the arrow. by always taking the same hold upon your bow and arrow, you will soon be able to know just where the arrow is going to strike. the boy who has had the hobby of collecting indian arrow-heads has no doubt often wondered how they were made, and also how the bows and arrows were prepared. the ways in which all uncivilized people do things is interesting, and especially when it is remembered that they had but raw materials with which to work and only such tools as they could make out of stone. [illustration: fig. .--correct position for shooting.] =the indian's bow= was made of different woods, and, though it varied in shape and size, was generally about forty inches in length, so as to be conveniently carried and handled on horseback. the bow-string consisted generally of a deer sinew or a strand of deer-skin rolled or twisted, and this was strung very tightly from a notch cut on one end of the bow to a notch on the opposite end. now, while an indian generally made the greater part of his weapons, there was always a warrior in the tribe who was skilled in the art of arrow-making, and, as the preparation required far more care than the bow, he was intrusted with this work. the arrow-shaft was made of various woods, reeds being often used, as they were straight and required but little cutting. their lengths depended largely upon that of the bows. for the feathering of the shafts, wild turkey feathers were considered best and used when they could be had, and these were attached to the shaft with deer sinews. [illustration: fig. .--some specimens of indian arrow-heads.] a great variety of materials were used for arrow-heads, among which flint, obsidian, horn of deer, claws of eagles, and the spurs of wild turkey-cocks may be mentioned. many of these are being picked up annually in the mountains and on the plains, which were once the battle-fields and hunting-grounds of the redmen, and in excavating for building purposes they are frequently found. a few specimens of stone heads showing a variety of the shapes and sizes used will be found in fig. . the preparation of these heads was usually left to the old men who were unfit for any other work. in making the flint head, the indian made a loop in a piece of buckskin which had been thoroughly wet in cold water, and then taking a piece of flint, heated it, and with the strip of buckskin chipped off what was not wanted until the head was of the correct shape and size. as hornstone is more brittle than quartz, the heads made from that material were broken and shaped by striking them against the latter. the stone heads were attached to the shaft by means of sinews, generally from deer. for hunting small birds, the indians often made wooden arrow-heads, hardening the wood by fire after shaping it. chapter xviii an outdoor gymnasium [illustration: boys pole vaulting and shot putting.] with a little work, and a small outlay of money chiefly for two-by-fours, and such boards as are specified in this chapter, a boy, or club of boys, can construct and set up all the necessary apparatus for an outdoor gymnasium. it is true a great many city back-yards are much too small to accommodate all of the apparatus; but there is generally a vacant lot in the neighborhood which you can obtain permission to use. those of you boys who are fortunate enough to spend the summer months in the country have splendid opportunities for making a complete gym and should not miss the chance to fit one up. =a horizontal bar.=--a well-made horizontal bar requires a firm standard which will not sway when swung upon. this is best attained by fastening at least one upright to the side of the barn, the fence, or some other stationary object. it is also very important to secure a strong bar free from knots and cracks. curtain-poles are frequently used by boys, but at great risk, as there may be a dangerous knot lurking beneath the highly polished surface that will break at a critical moment and cause them serious injuries. a four-foot hickory or ash bar can be bought from a dealer in sporting goods for about a dollar and a half, but it will cost much less to have a bar turned to the right shape and size at a planing mill. the diameter of the pole should be an inch and one-half, and the ends should be two inches square (see fig. ). for the uprights procure two two-by-sixes nine feet long. mark off a square equal in size to the end of the bar, six inches from one end of each, and cut out the wood with an auger. with a chisel trim the holes square and large enough for the bar to slip through. [illustration: figs. - .--the horizontal bar.] sink the lower ends of the uprights twelve inches into the ground, _a_ against the stationary object, whatever it may be, and _b_ directly in front, at a distance equal to the length of the bar. spike _a_ to the abutting surface, and brace the base of _b_ with two two-by-fours to make it solid (see fig. ). the tops of the braces should be mitred against _b_, and the bottoms spiked to stakes driven into the ground, as shown at _c_. to make it possible to adjust the bar to different heights, holes may be cut in the uprights every foot or so, in which case be careful to locate the holes exactly opposite one another. it is well to have an old mattress beneath the horizontal bar as a guard against injury in case of a fall. this also makes a splendid =tumbling mat= for practising rolls, hand-springs, and wrestling. if a mattress cannot be obtained, a few potato sacks stuffed with shavings or excelsior will answer the purpose. the most satisfactory scheme for making a pair of =parallel bars= is shown in fig. . to acquire the necessary firmness without putting in bracing that would interfere with the performer, the base of the apparatus should be set underground, as indicated by the dotted lines in the illustration. in height the parallel bars should be about four feet six inches, in length seven feet six inches, and in width twenty inches between the bars. this makes the uprights _a_, _b_, _c_, and _d_ six feet long, allowing eighteen inches to project into the ground. prepare one end of each as shown in fig. , notching it for the bar to fit in and cutting off the corner. [illustration: fig. .--the parallel bars.] when this has been done, cut four two-by-fours twenty-eight inches long. then lay the uprights _a_ and _b_ on the ground twenty inches apart, and spike two of the two-by-fours to them at _g_ and _h_ (see fig. ). uprights _c_ and _d_ should be similarly fastened together with the other two-by-fours at _i_ and _j_ (see fig. ). when these frames have been made, set them upon their bases six feet apart, and spike the two-by-fours _k_ and _l_ to the uprights in the places shown in fig. , with braces set between them and the pieces _h_ and _j_, at _m_, _n_, _o_, _p_ (see figs. and ). [illustration: fig. .--section of bar. fig. .--dress ends of uprights like this. fig. . fig. .--corner bracing. figs. - .--details of parallel bars.] the bars should be seven feet six inches in length, and cut out of georgia pine two-by-fours. figures and show how these should be dressed, the tops rounded to fit the hands and the ends curved. first roughly shape them with the draw-knife, then smooth up with the plane, and finally scrape and rub them down with sand-paper until perfectly smooth. when the bars have been prepared, slip them into the notches cut in the uprights, and spike them in place. with the constructive work done, it is only necessary to bury the base to complete the apparatus. excavate a trench eighteen inches deep, and level off the bottom. then lower the framework and, after determining that the bars are level, fill in the earth, packing it well against the uprights and braces. boards _e_ and _f_ should be laid across the top of _g_ and _i_, and spiked in place. =the punching-bag platform=, illustrated by fig. , should be made thirty inches square and suspended from the shed or a wall. nail a thirty-inch piece of two-by-four to the wall, two feet above the height at which the platform is to be placed, as at _a_ in the drawing, and nail another on a level with the top of the platform, as shown at _b_. fasten the platform boards together with battens, using nails long enough to clinch on top of the upper face, and nail the two boards _c_ and _d_ to the edges, mitring the edges as in the figure. then lift the platform to the desired height, and fasten the ends of _c_ and _d_ to the ends of _a_. also nail the bottom of the platform to the under side of _b_. a swivel such as shown in fig. can be bought for forty or fifty cents, and one of these should be screwed to the bottom of the platform, from which to suspend the punching-bag. [illustration: fig. .--a punching-bag platform.] =a pair of jump standards= are made out of two two-by-fours about eight feet long. after planing them smooth on all sides, measure off two feet from one end of each, and mark off the remaining six feet in inches, as shown in fig. . after squaring these divisions across the poles with your try-square, bore holes three-eighths of an inch in diameter through the poles at each division. then, with a small brush and black paint, mark off each foot with a band extending around the pole, each half foot with a narrower band, and each inch with a short line, as shown in the drawings. letter the foot divisions , , , , etc. [illustration: fig. . fig. . fig. . fig. .--the jump standards completed. figs. - .--details of jump standards.] when both standards have been finished, bury them in the ground to a depth of thirteen inches, eight feet apart. cut two wooden pegs similar to fig. to fit the holes, and procure a nine-foot pine or hickory pole one inch thick for a cross-bar (see fig. ). when the bar is placed upon the pegs, the distance from its top to the ground should correspond with the figure on the upright. if not the same, raise or lower the uprights until the error is corrected. with a pair of these standards there is no danger of injury by tripping over the bar, as the latter will fall off with the slightest knock. there is one disadvantage in using a stick, however, it being easily broken if jumped upon. because of this, a rope with a weight attached to each end, as shown in fig. is often substituted. the ends of the rope are hung over the pegs in such a way that it will slip off the pegs when struck. the weights should be just heavy enough to prevent the rope from sagging in the centre. =a vaulting pole= should be made of a strong wood, free from knots and other defects. the regulation pole is made of selected spruce, its length varying from eight to fourteen feet. if you make your own pole, be careful to plane off all splinters and irregularities, making it round and smooth, and point one end so it will stick into the ground and prevent slipping. although seldom used in an outdoor gymnasium, =a spring-board= is excellent for practising the high and broad jumps, and is a piece of apparatus with which a great deal of fun may be had. figure shows a scheme for a spring-board that is easy to make. first cut three pieces of two-by-four two feet long, lay them on the ground parallel to each other eighteen inches apart, and construct a platform four feet long by two feet wide on top of them. [illustration: fig. .--a spring-board.] [illustration: fig. .] cut another two-by-four two feet long, taper it as shown in fig. , making it two inches thick on one edge and an inch and a quarter on the other, and nail it to one end of the platform. secure a log two feet long (a cedar fence post will do very nicely), and fasten it across the centre of the platform parallel to the two-by-fours. the upper portion of the spring-board should be made of elastic boards, preferably ash. construct a second platform six inches longer than the first, leaving about one-half inch between the boards, and battening the pieces together at _a_ and _b_ (see fig. ). nail the battens securely in place, using nails of sufficient length to allow clinching on the under face of the battens. the clinching will prevent the boards from springing apart. this platform should be fastened to the first, with the end which has not been battened secured to the two-by-four at _c_. the best method of fastening the ends of these boards is with bolts long enough to extend through the two platforms and project an inch or more below the bottom two-by-four (see illustration). large washers should be placed under the heads of the bolts to prevent the latter from cutting through the boards. the upper platform should not be nailed to the log, but merely held to it by straps passed diagonally around the outside boards and log, as shown in the illustration. set the spring-board upon the spot you wish to use it, and bank up the earth behind it until a gradual slope is made from the ground to the top. if any difficulty is experienced in keeping the spring-board in place, it may be overcome by driving stakes into the ground around the sides of the lower platform. after setting up your gymnasium apparatus, oil the bars of the horizontal bar and parallel bars with boiled linseed-oil, and paint all the rest of the wood to keep it in good condition. =hurdles= should be lightly constructed, so as to be easily knocked over should a hurdler trip upon them. they are made similar to carpenter horses, directions for the making of which are given in chapter i. their height will depend upon the skill of the hurdler. if the field is large enough, =a running track= can be made around it, by levelling off the ground, removing all stones and irregularities in its path, and banking up the corners to enable the runner to turn the curves readily. [illustration: fig. .] =for short sprints= the most common method of starting is upon all fours, as illustrated in fig. . make a depression in the ground for the toe of the rear foot to press against in starting off. =for broad jumping=, a block of wood two feet long should be sunk into the ground, as a mark from which to leap. it is a good plan to organize =an athletic club= among the boys of the neighborhood with which to raise money necessary to buy the material for apparatus, and =athletic meets= may be held among the members and with other clubs. chapter xix a back-yard circus [illustration: the boy's circus.] shortly after the founding of rome, a large building was built within which to hold commemorations of roman victories and anniversaries, with chariot races, bull-fights, gladiatorial contests, and athletic games; and from this building, which was called the "circus," this class of entertainment derived its name. to keep up with the times, the circus has had to profit by every scientific discovery, adding continuously to its line of attractions, until now it is necessary for a show to produce a new, sensational, and hair-raising feat each season in order to keep in the favor of the public and compete with others in the field. the tight-rope walkers, bare-back riders, and trapeze performers were not long ago the main attractions of a circus, but these do not seem nearly as remarkable now when compared with such daring feats as looping-the-loop or looping-the-gap on a bicycle, riding down an incline on a single wheel, or diving from the peak of the tent into a small tank not more than six feet square, to be seen at the present day. when a circus came to town, it seemed but natural for the boys of our neighborhood to club together and arrange a performance on a small scale, but as nearly like that of the professionals as possible. a back-yard was transformed into training quarters, and here we worked hard for several days before the show, imitating as best we could the stunts of the circus performers. because one fellow could walk on his hands, and turn hand-springs, besides being the owner of a pair of tights, he naturally became the chief attraction; another had a pair of riding boots, so he was chosen ring master; a third made a bargain with his sister to cut him out a cheese-cloth costume, and was chosen to take the part of a clown,--and in this way each boy helped along the performance by contributing his best efforts. the most successful shows were those in which a week or more was spent in rehearsing the performance and getting things in shape. tickets and programmes were neatly printed by one of the members who owned a press, and the former were distributed among the boys and their friends to sell. the first thing to do in preparing a yard for a circus, is to =mark out a ring= in the centre, with a diameter as large as the yard will permit. this circle may be drawn on the same principle as that shown in fig. , chapter xv, using a rope at either end of which a stake has been attached. after describing the circle, secure several six-inch boards sufficiently limber to enable you to bend them around the circle, and fasten them in place by means of stakes driven into the ground outside of the boards. the enclosed space should then be filled in with several inches of shavings, which you can procure from a carpenter if you have not enough in your own workshop. =good circus seats= can be made out of boxes eighteen or twenty inches high, with planks laid across their tops. to give the back-yard a real circus appearance, we always thought it necessary not only to have a ring but also a tent over it and the grandstand, so we gathered together all the old awnings, tents, and carriage covers we could scrape up, and fastening these together with pins or heavy thread made =a large tent.=--a ten-foot pole was sunk into the ground in the centre of the ring, and ropes were run from the top of this to the fence, after which the tent was fastened to the ropes and propped with poles wherever any sagging occurred. bright colored cheese-cloth was used =in decorating the tent=, and for evening performances japanese lanterns were hung about the yard. [illustration: fig. .--halving. fig. .--ticket office and turnstile.] =a ticket office= should be built at the entrance to the yard. this can be made out of two boxes, one set on top of the other, as shown in fig. . cut an opening fifteen inches square in the front for a window, round the top, and make a guard of wooden strips to fit it. cut a slot in the counter, fastening a box beneath it in which to drop tickets, and for a cash drawer fasten strips to the under side of the counter, as shown in fig. , so that a cigar-box will slide upon them. to the top of the ticket office fasten a board cut the shape shown in the illustration, and print the word "tickets" upon it. these letters may be illuminated for an evening performance by boring holes through them and placing candles behind (see fig. ). =a turnstile= should be made in front of the ticket office, so that all are obliged to pay their admission fee and pass through the turnstile before entering the tent (see fig. ; also illustration opposite page ). the stile is made with two sticks about forty inches long fastened together at their centres, as shown in fig. . this joint, known as =halving=, consists in cutting away one-half the thickness and the width of each piece so that the remaining portions fit together flush. after nailing the pieces together, bore a quarter-inch hole through the centre, and screw the crosspiece at this point to the top of a piece of two-by-four driven into the ground in front of the ticket office. the crosspiece should now revolve with the screw as an axis. the turnstile should, of course, have a lock, and an arrangement similar to that shown in fig. answers the purpose. cut a slot in the front of the lower box on a level with the top of the stile for the arms to run through (see illustration), and then prepare four blocks, such as _a_, _b_, _c_, and _d_ in fig. . screw one end of _b_ and _c_ to the ends of _a_ and fasten block _d_ between the other ends of _b_ and _c_, after which nail block _a_ to the under side of the counter in the position shown in fig. . prepare a lever such as is shown in fig. , cut a mortise in the top of the counter for it to fit in (see fig. ), and pivot it to the side of the upper box. place a screw-eye in the end of the lever and another in _d_, and connect the two with a piece of cord. figure shows an arm of the turnstile held by the lock, which is released by pushing back the lever. a railing should be built in front of the turnstile to block the passage on that side. [illustration: fig. .--lock.] [illustration: fig. .--lever.] =the side show= should be placed in one corner of the yard. the cages can be made out of boxes with either slats or wire-mesh fastened over the front, and the top or side hinged in place for a door. the animal performers of the circus should occupy these cages before the show commences, and to make the menagerie as large as possible, a few cages may be filled with pets borrowed for the occasion. several closed boxes should be placed alongside of the cages, and lettered "lion," "tiger," or the names of some such ferocious animals as these, and the public should be informed that for their safety the management thought it best not to place these specimens on exhibition. =animated animals= generally have a place in every circus, and help out the clowns in their end of the performance. the animals are not difficult for handy boys to make, so several should be manufactured for your show. if you can get your mother or sister to do the necessary sewing, it would be well to secure her help. =the elephant= is one of the oldest forms of animated animals, and is at the same time one of the most popular. four or five yards of gray cambric should be purchased for its covering. [illustration: figs. - .--the elephant.] the cloth should be cut out like the pattern shown in fig. , the correct measurements being secured from two boys who have taken the position shown in fig. . fold the cloth along the centre and then sew the dotted lines _aa_ and _bb_ together. paper cornucopiæ form the tusks, and the ears are made of gray cambric cut the shape shown in fig. , and lined with heavy wrapping-paper to make them stiff. two boys are required for the elephant. these must bend forward, as shown in fig. . the rear boy places one hand upon the front boy's back and wags the tail with the other, while the front boy runs one hand through the elephant's trunk and keeps it in motion. fasten potato sacks on to your legs to make them as large as possible. =the giraffe= is one of the rarest of animals, and very few are to be found in captivity. in fact, a large circus claims there is only one specimen in this country, outside of a herd in their possession. so if you make a giraffe, which is not difficult to do, you will have a feature in your show that none but the very largest combines can afford. the animal's head should be drawn the shape of fig. on a board, and then cut out with the aid of a saw and draw-knife. the jaw, ears, and horns should be cut out separately, the shape of figs. , , and . bore two holes in the head at _a_, slanting them toward one another, and fit in them the pegs cut for the horns. the jaw should be pivoted with a small nail at _b_ on one side of the head, and an ear should be likewise fastened at _c_ on each side of the head. when these portions of the giraffe's anatomy have been put in place, stretch a rubber band from a tack driven in the top of the jaw to another tack driven into the neck (see fig. ), and attach another rubber band similarly to each of the ears. these rubber bands will act as springs, causing the ears to wag and the jaw to open and close when the giraffe moves his head. [illustration: figs. - .--details of giraffe.] paint the head, making the features as nearly like those of a giraffe as possible, and, when the paint is dry, mount the head on the end of a six-foot pole. [illustration: fig. .--the giraffe's tail.] the covering for the body is made out of a large piece of tan cloth with brown spots marked upon it, as shown in fig. . it is not necessary to give a pattern for this, as the illustration clearly shows how it should fit over the two boys who form the body, and hang from the headpiece. the neck should be stuffed out with excelsior. a short and a long stick should be nailed together, as shown in fig. , and cloth should be sewed to the end of the short stick for the animal's tail. stuff the tail with excelsior and fasten unravelled rope to the end, as shown in the drawings. the long stick should be held by the boy who forms the rear of the animal, so that by means of it he can manipulate the tail (see fig. ). as shown by the dotted lines in fig. , the boy in the front portion of the animal holds the end of the pole supporting the animal's head. [illustration: fig. .--the wild man and the wild horse.] [illustration: fig. .--framework of wild horse.] [illustration: figs. - .] an animated animal very often brought into a circus ring is the two-legged =wild horse=, owned by the wild man of borneo. this breed of horse is shown in fig. . a framework is necessary for the body, and this is best made as shown in fig. . cut two four-foot strips for the side-pieces, fasten them two feet apart, with a barrel-hoop at either end and arch barrel-hoops over the back, as shown in the drawing. the head (fig. ) is made in the same manner as that of the giraffe, the jaws and the ears (figs. and ) being cut out separately and pivoted in place similarly to those of the giraffe. paint the face, marking the eyes and nostrils, and make a mane and tail of unravelled rope. having finished the head, mount it upon a short stick and fasten this to a crosspiece set in the framework, as shown in fig. , bracing it with an upright fastened to another crosspiece. in fastening the various pieces of the framework together, it is well not only to use long enough nails to clinch, but also to bind each joint with wire or cord to make it stiff. purchase brown or black cambric for covering the framework. tack it to the wooden strips, leaving an opening in the top for the rider to stand in, and allow it to hang to the ground as shown in the illustration, so as to conceal the feet of the rider. [illustration: fig. .--"jocko."] =the wild man= should wear an old slouch hat and a hunting jacket, and should have a pair of false legs fastened to him, so that while his own are inside the framework, as shown by the dotted lines in fig. , they appear to be astride. to make the false legs, cut off the legs of an old pair of long trousers, stuff them with excelsior, and fasten a pair of shoes to the ends. these legs should be fastened to the hips of the rider. the framework should be held to the rider by means of ropes tied to the side strips, as shown in fig. . these should be long enough to cross the boy's shoulders in the same way as a pair of suspenders. [illustration: fig. .--jocko's hat.] =a monkey's make-up= is shown in fig. . the boy who is most apt at making a monkey of himself should be selected to take the part of this animal. in the first place he requires a red suit, which may be made quickly by sewing red cloth over an old coat and a pair of trousers. cover the legs with a pair of tan stockings, and slip the feet into a pair of large gloves. the face and hands should be colored, and for this purpose buy some brown grease paint. in rubbing the paint over the face, leave a circle of white around the eyes and mouth, and make a brown mark each side of the mouth to give it a broadened effect. a tight-fitting cap should be made of cloth as nearly the shade of the brown paint as possible, to hide the hair. figure shows the monkey's hat, consisting of a tomato-can covered with red cloth, which is fastened around the monkey's chin by means of an elastic cord. a piece of rope can be fastened beneath the coat for a tail. =the ring master= should wear a high silk hat, a stand-up collar, and a pair of boots, besides being supplied with a long whip. =the clown's suit= is best made out of red and yellow cheese-cloth, this material being about as cheap as can be bought for the purpose. the suit consists of a pair of baggy trousers or bloomers, with elastic around the waist and ankles, a loose coat with large buttons, a collar, a skullcap, and a hat. make the buttons out of red cheese-cloth and stuff them with cotton. the coat may be made of red and the trousers of yellow cheese-cloth, or both may be made of yellow with red polka dots sewed on to them, as shown in the illustration of his costume (fig. ). the collar is made of white cloth, lined with paper to make it stiff, and should be pleated around the neck to form a ruffle. a skull cap should be made out of white cloth to hide the hair. make a peaked hat of stiff paper, and cover it with red cheese-cloth. [illustration: fig. .--the clown's make-up.] [illustration: the back-yard circus.] when making up for a performance, the clown should powder his face, neck, and hands with magnesia, and draw expression marks upon his face with burnt cork, as shown in fig. . =the attendants= for the elephant and giraffe should wear old bath robes or gowns, and have turbans made by twisting a piece of red cheese-cloth about the head. by visiting any circus and closely watching how things are managed, it ought to be a simple matter to get enough =ideas for a performance= that can be carried out with the animals and performers described in this chapter. the clown should, of course, have his usual supply of jokes, which he can get out of the comic papers, and should do his best to annoy the other performers. he should make himself =a slapper=, consisting of two sticks with a block slipped between at one end. this will produce a great deal of laughter among the audience, for when the slapper is struck against a performer the ends of the sticks strike together, making a loud, cracking noise, and one would hardly believe that a stinging blow had not been dealt. the clown attempts the tricks of the other performers, but always fails or gets them very badly mixed. a startling feat to be announced upon the programme will be =looping the hoop on a giraffe.=--this stunt is performed by the elephant, who is given a number of barrel-hoops, which he tosses by means of his trunk over the giraffe's outstretched neck. the elephant and giraffe should always be entered in a race, which will prove exciting, inasmuch as your specimens will be evenly matched. the monkey may do almost anything and be amusing. swinging upon a turning-pole, teasing the animals, boxing with the clown, and climbing a rope, are all his specialties. then he should have =a chariot= within which to ride around the ring. this can be made out of a soap-box, as shown in fig. . cut down the sides, as in the illustration, attach two shafts to the bottom, and mount it upon a couple of small wagon wheels. when this has been done paint the wood a bright red, and cut stars of different sizes out of gilt paper and glue them all over the outside. [illustration: fig. .--jocko's chariot.] the ring master acts as manager of the performance, and should use his whip unsparingly upon the animals, to force them into obedience. if a boy can turn upon a turning-pole, an apparatus such as is described in chapter xviii may be set up outside of the ring. before performances, the entire circus--animals, acrobats, and showmen--should parade about the neighborhood in circus attire. we always made the =parades= a feature of our circuses, and found them not only great sport, but the best kind of advertising. the animal cages should be placed upon wagons decorated with flags. head the procession with a couple of drummers, and have two boys march in the rear carrying signs advertising the show. =the advertising signs= may be painted with bluing upon large pieces of manila wrapping-paper, and should be tacked on wooden stretchers mounted on poles. [illustration: circus parade.] chapter xx suggestions for fourth of july [illustration: boy startled by fire-cracker and lanterns on kite-string.] as most boys probably know, the first fourth of july celebration took place in , following the signing of the declaration of independence in independence hall, philadelphia. when the old bell rang forth the result of the meeting of the continental congress, citizens gathered in the streets and displayed their great joy by shouting, beating drums, and firing muskets. the news spread very rapidly, and great rejoicing reigned everywhere. it soon became a custom to celebrate annually this famous event, and it should be every boy's privilege to have a rollicking good time upon this day, making as much noise as he pleases. when the average boy has bought a few sky-rockets, roman-candles, and cannon-crackers, for the fourth, he generally finds, to his sorrow, that he has run out of pocket money. it is then that he is very apt to want to try his hand at making pyrotechnics. there are many publications which describe how amateurs may manufacture roman-candles, sky-rockets, nigger-chasers, and such pieces, but it is hoped that no boy will venture to carry out any such experiments, for, with the greatest of care, unforeseen accidents will occur which may result disastrously to him. at the same time, there is no economy in it, for the apparatus and materials will generally cost him more than to buy the fireworks ready made. this is also true of colored lights, for which there are many simple formulæ, but none of which can be made up as cheaply as the powders can be bought already prepared. there are, however, many things a boy can make for the fourth that are perfectly harmless, such as fire-cracker cannons and home-made set-pieces, besides different schemes for firing crackers and fireworks that he can carry out. the suggestions offered on the following pages will be found interesting, and they will probably suggest other ideas to the inventive boy. the store toy cannon and cap-pistol are exceedingly dangerous for boys to use, and were all cities to pass laws forbidding their sale, as in the case of a great many of the larger cities, thousands of young lives would be saved from the terrible accidents resulting annually from celebrating with these toys. in fig. is shown =a fire-cracker cannon= with which a boy can have a great deal of fun and at the same time with no danger of injury. cut the two gun-stocks similar in shape to fig. , and the two wheels four inches in diameter (fig. ), after which bore holes in the gun-stocks at _a_, and in the centres of the wheels, through which to run the axle. procure a baking-powder can and make a couple of holes in the sides for the axle to run through (fig. ), and one in the bottom of the can the size of a fire-cracker fuse. cut a conical piece of wood about two inches long and nail it to the outside of the can cover as shown in fig. . [illustration: figs. - .--a fire-cracker cannon.] when the various pieces have been thus prepared, place them together as shown in fig. , and slip a piece of heavy wire through the holes made in them, and bend over the ends of the wire to hold the wheels in place. =to fire the cannon=, place a cracker in the can with the fuse projecting through the hole in the bottom, and fit the cover over the can. then light the fuse. the exploding cracker will force off the cover, which is the projectile, and hurl it a considerable distance in the direction the cannon has been pointed. =a toy mortar= may be made similarly, with the exception of the carriage or mortar-bed. figures and show the details for this, which is different from a regular mortar, one end being enclosed for an ammunition box. make a cover for the ammunition box to prevent sparks from igniting the packages of crackers, using pieces of leather for hinges. as shown in the section drawing (fig. ), the mortar-bed is mounted upon a small board, being held in place by means of a short screw, which makes it possible to swing the mortar around in any position desired. [illustration: figs. - .--a fire-cracker mortar.] these cannons and mortars will furnish sport not only for the fourth, but for any other day of the year, as they can be used by a crowd of boys in =mimic battles=, with paper soldiers. the boys should divide into armies, and construct their fortifications about twenty feet apart, planting the guns upon the works and placing the paper soldiers behind. all paper soldiers knocked over are out of the game, and the side first completely killing the enemy's garrison is, of course, the winner of the day. these battles are always very exciting, especially toward the end, when there are but a few warriors remaining. in order that the projectiles may fit all the cans, it is necessary to have them all of the same size. [illustration: fig. .--another toy cannon.] =another toy cannon= that is simple to make is shown in fig. . for this, buy a short piece of glass tubing at a drug-store and have the druggist seal one end of it. then secure a good-sized cork and cut a hole through the side large enough for the tube to run through (see _a_ in fig. ). cut out a pair of wooden wheels about three inches in diameter, and fasten them to the ends of the cork with a pin or small nail. make the cannon shafts four inches long, point one end of each and stick them into the cork at _b_ and _c_. the open end of the tube should be at _d_ and the sealed end at _e_. =to fire the cannon=, slip a match into the open end of the tube with the head toward _e_, and hold a lighted match at the closed end. as soon as the heat ignites the phosphorus, the match will shoot out of the open end of the tube. =firing fireworks from kites= presents a novel feature for a fourth of july celebration, the aërial display making a very pretty spectacle, and the boy who sets off his fireworks in this manner will have something different from the rest of the neighborhood. [illustration: fig. .] figure shows the manner in which a roman-candle can be attached to a kite-string. a piece of punk about an inch and one-half long should be bound to the fuse of the candle, and as the fuse is rather short it is necessary to cut through the paper bound around it, and set the punk into the end of the candle, as shown in the drawing. attach a piece of twine two feet long to the other end of the candle, and then, after getting your kite up, attach the end of this string to the kite-string and light the punk, being very careful in doing so not to ignite the fuse of the roman-candle. after attaching the candle and lighting the punk, let out the kite-string as rapidly as possible, so that by the time the punk has burned down to the fuse end, the roman-candle will be well up in the air. as soon as the candle begins to explode, shake the kite-string so as to make the balls shoot into the sky in different directions. =a pack of fire-crackers= with a piece of punk attached to the fuses may also be suspended from a kite-string and fired in mid-air. [illustration: fig. . fig. . schemes for attaching lanterns to kite-strings.] other fireworks may be set off similarly, and colored lights produce a fine effect. =nigger-chasers= shot into the air by means of a cross-bow, such as is described in chapter xvii, present another novelty. =japanese lanterns= hung from kite-strings are also a pretty sight, and, while they give somewhat the same appearance as fire-balloons, they are lasting and can be saved for another year. after procuring a number of lanterns of different shapes and sizes, fasten candles securely in them so that there is no possibility of them igniting the paper. figures and show two ways in which the lanterns may be attached one below the other. the first method (fig. ) consists of pins stuck through the bottoms of the lanterns and bent over into hooks, while in the second (fig. ) a small hole is made in the bottom of one lantern and the wire handle of another is slipped through this hole and looped over a burnt match. before sending up the kite with these lanterns, make a number of small loops in the kite-string where you wish to hang the lanterns, and provide the handle of each series of lanterns with a pin-hook, as shown in fig. . then, when everything is in readiness, have one of your friends hook the lanterns to the loops while you attend to letting out the kite-string. of course the smaller the lanterns are the greater number you can hitch in place, and if you use a team of kites you will find that they will carry a number of strings of lanterns. [illustration: fig. .--a shooting-torch.] =a shooting-torch=, such as is shown in fig. , is a scheme that is simple to carry out. it consists of a stick about eighteen inches long, with fire-crackers bound around it with wire, and the fuses twisted together, as shown in the illustration. it is fired in the same way as a roman-candle. after firing all of your fireworks, you should have =a final set-piece= with which to close the exhibition. a good scheme for such a piece is shown in fig. . mark out the letters upon a board, and, with a quarter-inch bit, bore holes about one half-inch apart along the outlines of each letter. then cut enough sticks of punk two inches long to fit all of the holes, and put them to soak in kerosene. the oil makes the punk burn much brighter than it would in its dry state. when the punk is thoroughly soaked, stick the pieces in the holes. a candle will be found most convenient for lighting the punk. nail the board to a tree or post, and place several cannon-crackers in holes bored near the bottom of the board. after allowing the punk to burn for a short time, light the cannon-crackers and blow up the set-piece as a grand finish. [illustration: fig. .--a final set-piece.] chapter xxi halloween [illustration: witch riding broomstick and halloween prankster] halloween, or the eve of all saints' day, has been observed since the beginning of the christian era. in very early times, ghosts, demons, and spirits were believed to rule the universe on this evening, and any one who ventured upon the streets after dark was doing so at the risk of his life. for companionship, as well as protection, it was customary for large numbers of friends to spend the evening together; and these gathered around the fire-place, and passed away the time drinking cider, cracking nuts, eating apples, and telling ghost stories. while the superstitious fears of halloween have almost entirely disappeared, the evening is generally celebrated in the same manner as in the past. this is the only evening on which a boy can feel free to play pranks outdoors without danger of being "pinched," and it is his delight to scare passing pedestrians, ring door-bells, and carry off the neighbors' gates (after seeing that his own is unhinged and safely placed in the barn). even if he is suspected, and the next day made to remove the rubbish barricading the doors, lug back the stone carriage step, and climb a tree for the front gate, the punishment is nothing compared with the sport the pranks have furnished him. there is, of course, such a thing as boys going too far with their halloween fun and getting into malicious mischief, but the cautious boy is not likely to cause any serious trouble by his actions. [illustration: fig. . fig .--a section through the bean-blower. a magazine bean-blower.] every boy who has used a bean-blower knows that the beans swell when held in the mouth, often to such an extent that they will not go through the opening, and clog the tube. figure shows a scheme for a =magazine bean-blower=, which does away with this difficulty, inasmuch as with it the beans are not put in the mouth. the drawing shows a section taken through the centre of one the writer has before him, which works admirably. this bean-blower will cost you just two cents, the price of two of the regular nineteen-inch tin tubes sold in the stores. to these add a large ribbon-spool, which can be had for the asking at almost any dry goods store, some glue, and a sheet of writing paper. place the spool in your bench-vise, and bore a quarter-inch hole in the centre of the side of it (see _a_, fig. ). this hole should be on a slant, and extend only into the hollow part of the spool, as shown in the drawing. when this has been done, take one of the tin tubes and cut off two sections of it, one four inches long and the other three and one-half inches long. this is easily done by filing through the tin on one side with a small file, and then bending the tube back and forth until it breaks. place the end of the four-inch tube in the hole bored in the spool at _a_, gluing a strip of paper around it to make it fit tightly (see _b_ in fig. ). a piece of paper smeared with glue should be wrapped around the other end of this tube in the form of a funnel, as shown in fig. . press the paper around the end of the tube, as shown in the section drawing, fig. , and use plenty of glue upon it to make it stiff. glue a strip of paper around the short tube, and stick it in one end of the spool, as shown at _c_, fig. . the little wooden mouthpiece that is furnished with bean-blowers nowadays should be slipped over the other end of the tube, as shown in the drawing. now take the second bean-blower, and glue it in the other end of the spool, as shown at _d_. the bean-blower is now complete. to operate it, hold the spool in one hand, and, after dropping a number of beans or peas into the magazine, place the palm of the other hand over the top of the paper funnel, and blow until the tube is emptied. it is necessary to close the opening in the top of the magazine, or the beans will blow out of it instead of from the end of tube _d_. dried peas always work better than beans in a bean-blower, as they are round and never clog the tube. [illustration: fig. .--a new style of tick-tack.] [illustration: fig. . fig. . details of crank for tick-tack.] the loud drumming noise of a tick-tack rattled upon a window is enough to give any one the cold shivers, and if the guests of a halloween party are gathered about the fire-place, telling weird ghost stories, this unearthly noise is sufficient to give even the bravest heart a conviction that the house is haunted by supernatural beings. the writer and his friends used to make =a new style of tick-tack=, such as illustrated in fig. , which claims several advantages over the ordinary kind. in the first place it has a crank arrangement which does away with the long string that is everlastingly becoming entangled, and only one boy is necessary to operate it where two are required with the old-style affair. again, by having the tick-tack upon the end of a long pole, second-story windows can easily be reached with it. for the making of this tick-tack, procure two large spools, some heavy cord, and a long pole (perhaps you can borrow your mother's clothes-pole for the occasion). with a knife cut notches in the flanges of one spool, and fasten it to one end of the pole, driving a large nail through the hole in the centre of the spool into the pole (see fig. ). place the other spool in your bench-vise and saw it in two pieces, as shown in figs. and , so that _a_ is one-half the size of _b_, or one-third of the length of the spool. cut a strip of wood about six inches long, bore a hole near one end a little larger than a sixteen-penny nail, and nail the strip to the end of spool _a_ so that the hole comes exactly over the one in the spool (see fig. ). attach spool _b_ to the other end of _c_ by means of a nail driven through the hole into the strip. the crank is now completed, and should be fastened to the lower end of the pole by means of a nail driven through the hole in _a_. it will be seen that this tick-tack is a simple piece of apparatus. the crank at the lower end of the pole is turned and revolves the notched spool at the upper end. to keep the cord from slipping on the pole, a little resin should be rubbed upon it, and it might be well also to rub a little upon the spools. [illustration: fig. . the clockwork tick-tack.] =a clockwork tick-tack=, such as is illustrated in fig. , is another good idea, and one that can be carried out with a few minutes' work. remove the works from an old alarm clock, and fasten them with wire or cord to the end of a pole, as shown. attach a cord to the striker, and make it long enough to reach to the other end of the pole. make a loop in the end of the cord, and drive a nail into the pole over which to loop the cord to keep the striker in check. this tick-tack is worked by placing the end of the pole close to the window-glass, with the striker toward the glass, and slipping the cord off its nail. the striker is controlled entirely by the cord. =the goblin-man= (fig. ) is easily made out of such material as you can most generally find about the house. the framework for the body of this ghostly creature is shown in fig. , and consists of a pole about four feet long with the centre of an eighteen-inch crosspiece nailed across it. in order to fasten these pieces firmly together, they should be halved as shown in fig. , chapter xix. the arms consist of two sticks (_a_ and _b_ in fig. ) fastened together at right angles with small iron braces, and screwed in place near the ends of the crosspiece, as shown in the illustration. holes should be bored through the arm pieces in order that they may work freely on the screws. place a small screw-eye in each arm at _b_, and attach a short string to it. a short stick should be nailed to the four-foot pole about eighteen inches from the lower end, so that the boy who carries the framework can rest it upon his shoulder. [illustration: fig. .--the goblin-man.] [illustration: fig. .--framework of the goblin-man.] the head of the goblin is a jack-o'-lantern made out of a piece of cardboard, bent as shown in fig. , and held in this shape by means of broom-wire laced back and forth across the top. cut a hole the shape of an ear in each side, and paste a piece of red tissue-paper over the opening. for the face, take a piece of white paper a little larger than the face is going to be, mark out eyes, nose, and mouth upon it, and cut the openings for them. paste red tissue-paper over the openings for the eyes, and mark a large black pupil in the corner of each (fig. ). for the mouth, paste a piece of white tissue-paper over the opening, and mark out the teeth in black (fig. ). a piece of red tissue-paper should be pasted over the opening for the nose. after finishing the face, paste it on to the cardboard head. the goblin's countenance is lighted up from within, by means of a candle fastened in a baking-powder can. cut down one side of the can with a pair of tin-shears or a can-opener, and tack it to the framework about six inches above the crosspiece, as shown in fig. . this can must not be put in place, however, until the head is fastened to the framework, which is done by punching a hole in the cardboard large enough to admit the end of the pole. get an old derby for a hat, and, after punching a few holes in the top for the heat and smoke of the candle to escape, sew it to the cardboard head. cover the back of the head with black cloth in such a way that it may be opened to light the candle. to save the goblin-man the embarrassment of losing his head, drive a nail through the crown of the derby-hat into the end of the pole. for a neck, button a cuff around the pole between the crosspiece and head. [illustration: fig. . fig. . figs. - .--the goblin's head.] a white suit of clothes is, of course, the correct style for the goblin to wear. this can be found in an old nightshirt, lengthened with white cloth, if necessary, to make it reach the ground when it is placed upon him. the shoulders should be padded out to hide the framework. when the goblin-man is finished, strap the shoulder-stick of the frame to your shoulder, and fasten the end of the pole to your waist with a belt. your hands are then free to manipulate the arms, by means of the cords attached to their ends. before starting out upon the street, have some one light the candle in the head. as this weird-looking creature passes along the streets, with glaring eyes and other features equally brilliant, people will have to stop to reassure themselves that they are not face to face with some unearthly demon. a trick that will furnish amusement for at least a portion of the evening is =the disappearing rope=, which is not an entirely new idea, but one which is always popular. procure a number of rubber bands and tie them together, end to end. then attach one end of these to a front fence, and to the other end fasten several yards of string. after doing this, cross over the sidewalk with the string, pulling it tightly so the rubber bands will stretch, and hang a sign with the word "danger" printed upon it in large letters over the string where it crosses the sidewalk. it is only natural that the person who sees this sign will make a grab for it, thinking you are blocking the sidewalk to make him walk around it. this is your opportunity to act quickly and let go of the string, which will snap back to the fence upon the contraction of the rubber bands, and disappear from view, leaving your much-astonished friend to pass on, knowing that the joke is upon him. chapter xxii a back-yard toboggan-slide [illustration: children on the toboggan-slide.] it is the misfortune of a great many boys to be deprived of one of winter's greatest sports, by living in a flat country where there are no hills upon which to coast. these boys have little use for sleds aside from "hitching," unless they can make an artificial slide. in a number of large cities, toboggan-slides on a large scale are erected in the parks each year, and thrown open to the use of the public. although this coasting cannot equal that to be had on natural hills, it affords a great pastime to thousands of boys and girls, and is a luxurious treat to many who have never seen hills larger than the artificial park variety. the construction of a toboggan-slide is not difficult for a boy or several boys, and though it must be limited in size, a small slide has an advantage in that there is not a long walk from the end of the run back to the starting-point. [illustration: fig. .--a back-yard toboggan-slide.] it is a good idea to locate the toboggan-slide in a back-yard or an enclosed lot, so that the outside fellows cannot monopolize it; and it is well to have some firm object to which the framework can be fastened, as it saves a great deal of bracing, and materially lessens the amount of lumber needed. the work should be done in the early part of the fall, before the cold weather sets in. figure shows a slide built in the corner of a yard against the fence. =the length= will be determined by the size of the yard. if the yard is short, the slide should be proportioned accordingly, to allow the sled its full run before reaching the end of the lot. =a platform= should be built in the corner, six feet square, and about seven feet above the ground. for this, cut four two-by-fours six feet nine inches long, fasten one in the angle formed by the two fences, and another five feet four inches to the right of it (_a_ and _b_ in fig. ). the third upright (_c_) should be nailed to the fence five feet eight inches from _a_, and the fourth (_d_) should be fastened at an equal distance from _b_. then cut two pieces of two-by-four each six feet long, and nail them across the tops of _a_ and _c_, and _b_ and _d_, respectively, as shown at _e_ and _f_ in fig. . the uprights should now be braced with horizontal and diagonal bracing, as shown in fig. , to give the platform the necessary stiffness. [illustration: figs. - .--framework of toboggan-slide.] after deciding upon the length of the slide, lay off the distance upon the ground from the bottom of upright _b_, and drive a stake into the ground at the farther end. then attach a cord to the stake and run it along the fence to a nail driven into the top of upright _b_. this cord, shown in fig. , marks the pitch of the slide, and will give you a guide-line by which to work. when this has been done, cut three pieces of two-by-four about two feet long, and spike them to the fence just below the guide-line (see _g_, _h_, and _i_, fig. ), spacing them about six feet apart on centres. when these have been fastened in place, take a piece of two-by-four and mark off upon it the distance from the ground to the top of block _i_. then square a line across the two-by-four at this point, at an angle corresponding to that at which block _i_ is nailed to the fence (see fig. ). saw the two-by-four on this line, and then stand it upright in front of block _i_, thirty or thirty-two inches from the fence (according to whether eight-or ten-inch boards are used upon the slide), and spike a piece of two-by-four to the top of it and to the top of block _i_, as shown in fig. . cut and set up a similar upright and crosspiece at _g_ and at _h_, after which brace all as shown in the illustration (fig. ). if you are going to buy boards with which to cover the platform and slide, get twelve-foot lengths, eight or ten inches wide. by using these you will have no waste, and but little cutting to do. if, however, you have material of other dimensions on hand which you can use, the supports of the slide should be so spaced that the boards will reach from one to another. the boards should run lengthwise upon the slide, and be nailed to the framework, leaving as small cracks as possible between them. in order to prevent sleds from running off the slide, a guide should be nailed to the edge farthest from the fence, from the top to the bottom, and on the opposite side where it extends above the fence top (see fig. ). after nailing the platform boards in place, =build a railing= out of boards around three sides of it, to prevent any one from slipping off (see fig. ). =a ladder=, made out of two two-by-fours, with two-inch strips nailed across them, should be set against the front of the platform and spiked in place, as shown in the illustration of the completed slide (fig. ). this will make it easier to reach the platform than by the way of the icy slide, and also prevents those coasting from colliding with those who are returning. any ingenious boy will know how to make a swift slide by turning the hose upon it, and allowing the water to run over the surface until every portion is well covered. a toboggan-sled is out of proportion for a slide of this size, and will not be found as satisfactory as a sled with runners, as the steepness of the slide will not be sufficient to make it go. =a home-made sled=, such as that shown in fig. , requires but little material, and if carefully made will prove stronger than the variety commonly sold in the shops. [illustration: fig. .--a home-made sled.] [illustration: fig. .--pattern for runners.] figure shows the pattern for the runners, which should be cut out of four-inch boards, seven-eighths of an inch thick. round the top edges, and cut the front and rear ends as shown in the drawing. make a slot in the place indicated for a handle, and bore a hole near the front end for the crosspiece to run through. the seat consists of a board cut twenty-two inches long and nine inches wide. this will not be nailed to the runners but to cleats, as shown in fig. . cut three cleats nine and one-quarter inches long, two inches wide, and seven-eighths of an inch thick, and fasten these between the runners, five-eighths of an inch from their tops, placing one near the end of the seat, one at the centre, and one at the front. four two-inch iron braces should be procured, and two of these screwed to the under side of the front and rear cleats, and to the sides of the runners, as shown in fig. . the seat can then be nailed in place, and a broom-handle fastened in the hole bored near the ends of the runners. =the best kind of iron runners= for a home-made sled are those that a boy can put on without the aid of a blacksmith, and such a pair of runners is shown in the drawing of this sled. they consist of what are known as half-oval iron strips, and can be had usually at a hardware store or blacksmith shop. a pair forty inches long and three-quarters of an inch wide, with five holes for countersunk screws drilled in each, can be bought for fifty cents. when they have been procured, screw them to the bottom of the runners, using one inch or one and one-quarter inch screws for the purpose. [illustration: fig. .--a section through the sled.] although these runners are plenty heavy enough for light coasting, they would probably prove weak for coasting upon hills of any great size. to withstand the strain brought to bear upon the runners when hill coasting, boys generally find it necessary to make them out of two-inch stuff. this, however, makes the sled heavy and clumsy, and can be done away with by following a scheme which a friend of the writer's invented and found very satisfactory. it consisted of =reënforcing the runners= with steel bars driven into holes bored vertically in them. the holes were bored while the runners were held in a vise, and the steel bars were a little larger than the holes, so that they would fit them tightly. this scheme allows the use of seven-eighths inch stuff for the runners, and sixty-penny wire nails can be filed off to the proper length and substituted for steel bars if the latter cannot be obtained. when the sled has been completed, it should be given a good coat of paint. [illustration: boys discuss the project.] part iii indoor pastimes [illustration: a miniature theatre.] chapter xxiii a miniature theatre [illustration: children at the theatre.] probably nothing can be found which will make a more interesting entertainment for a winter evening, than a miniature theatre patterned as nearly as possible after a large playhouse. the construction of the stage, and preparation of miniature scenery, properties, and mechanical effects, furnish good work for disagreeable weather when it becomes necessary to remain indoors, and there is plenty of it, and of great enough variety, to occupy the attention of a number of boys. very little material is necessary, outside of what generally can be found in the attic, cellar, and woodshed, so that the expense incurred by making the theatre amounts to almost nothing. a gilt picture-frame makes =an excellent proscenium= for the front of the stage, and, as it will not be marred in the least, you can probably borrow one for the occasion. [illustration: fig. .--the stage framework.] on the opposite page is shown a miniature theatre completed, and in fig. will be seen the proper construction of =the stage framework=, which is made of narrow boards and built upon two horses the width of the picture-frame. make the horses as shown in fig. , one two feet six inches high and the other two feet nine inches high, using two-by-fours for the tops and narrow boards for the legs and braces. after constructing the horses, cut four boards seven feet long and nail two to the ends of each (_a_ and _b_, fig. ), after which cut two pieces to reach across the tops and nail them in place as shown at _c_. then set the horses five feet apart, with the lower one in front, and screw three boards to the tops as shown at _d_, _e_, and _f_, and three narrow strips to the top of the framework as shown at _g_, _h_, and _i_. strips _g_, _h_, and _i_ form what is known as =the gridiron=, or supports from which the scenery drops are suspended, and should have a row of tacks driven into each edge, as shown in fig. , upon which to hang the drops. by fastening the framework together with screws, it may be taken apart after a performance and packed away for another time. =the stage floor= rests upon boards _d_, _e_, and _f_, and is made of laths laid close together, parallel to the front of the stage. the laths should not be nailed in place, as it is necessary to have the stage floor movable. when the work has proceeded thus far, set the picture-frame between the uprights of the front frame so that the opening comes on a level with the stage floor, and fasten it to _a_ and _b_ with nails driven through screw-eyes placed in the back of the picture-frame. =the drop-curtain= should be made of white muslin, and measure in width several inches wider than the opening in the picture-frame. hem the two side edges of the cloth, and sew brass rings on to them two inches apart. then tack the top and bottom to strips of wood. a scene may be painted upon this curtain, but you will find the result probably more successful if you paste a picture of some sort upon the cloth, as suggested in the illustration of the completed theatre. [illustration: fig. .--view of curtain from stage.] in fig. we have a view from the stage of the arrangement by which the curtain is raised and lowered. two heavy wires should be slipped through the rings on the curtain, and their ends fastened to four screw-eyes placed in the uprights at _j_, _k_, _l_, and _m_. these form the curtain guides. bore two holes in uprights _a_ and _b_ above the picture-frame, and run a broom-stick through them for a roller, after which make a crank similar to that shown in fig. and fasten it to one end. place two screw-eyes in the crosspiece at _n_ and _o_ (fig. ) and slip two cords through them, tying one end of each to the top of the curtain and the other end to the roller. by turning the crank the string will now wind around the roller and raise the curtain. it will be necessary to screw a button on to upright _a_ at _p_, as shown in fig. , to lock the crank when the curtain is raised. we often had two and three drop-curtains upon our miniature theatres, which made it necessary to have additional rollers and guide-wires. [illustration: fig. .--crank for curtain pole.] [illustration: fig. .--the footlights.] the greatest precautions should be taken =in lighting the theatre=, to have all wood surrounding lights covered with tin, and not to use candles or matches around inflammable substances. figure shows a satisfactory arrangement of =the footlights.=--a piece of tin the length of the picture-frame and ten inches wide should be procured for these and bent into the shape shown in the illustration. drive tacks through the bottom of the tin about two inches apart, and stick a short candle upon each. then fasten the tin below the picture-frame as shown in the drawing of the completed theatre, and paint it black upon the outside. [illustration: fig. . fig. . fig. . fig. . details of floodlights.] =floodlights=, which are used to throw light from the wings on to the stage, may be made as shown in figs. , , , and . the case for the light is made in the same manner as the dark-room lantern, described in chapter xi, and illustrated by figs. and , except that the door is placed in the side instead of the back and no glass or paper is fastened over the front opening (see figs. and ). make the opening four by five inches, and fasten two grooves, formed by nailing two strips of wood together, as shown in fig. , above and below it, in which to slide glass plates for the purpose of throwing =colored lights= upon a scene. the slides consist of old four-by-five camera plates with colored tissue-paper pasted upon them, and are operated in the same manner as magic-lantern slides. the light should be mounted upon a standard, such as is shown in fig. , consisting of a seven-foot pole fastened at the lower end to a board and braced with triangular blocks, as shown in the illustration. it should be so attached to the pole that it can be adjusted to any desired height, and to attain this two pipe-straps should be fastened to the back of the box, as shown in fig. . first nail two vertical strips in place as at _a_ and _b_ in the drawing, and to these screw the two iron pipe-straps. when the straps have been attached, slip the end of the pole through them, and place a screw-eye in the box, another in the pole near its upper end, and a nail in the side of the box. then attach a cord to the screw-eye in the box, and, after running it through the screw-eye near the top of the pole, twist it several times around the nail in the side of the box, which will hold the box in that position. one of these lights should be made for each side of the stage. in addition to them, you may have occasion to use =spotlights= to throw more light upon one portion of a scene than another. bicycle lamps will be found handy for this purpose. if your house is wired for electricity, several miniature incandescent lamps can be procured for the footlights, while larger lamps can be used for all the other necessary lighting. as the work of making scenery, properties, and mechanical effects is not in the same line as the construction of the stage and its framework, it has been treated in the following chapter. before setting up the theatre for a performance, it is well to spread a large cloth over the carpet, to catch anything that may drop from the stage. then, with all the framework fastened together, hang draperies on each side and above and below the proscenium arch, as shown in chapter heading. this will conceal everything but the proscenium opening. =admission tickets= and programmes should, of course, be printed with a printing-press if you have one; otherwise with rubber stamps. chapter xxiv scenery, properties, and mechanical effects [illustration: working on drops.] scenery for a miniature theatre will be made in much the same manner as the small drops and wings a scenic artist prepares of each scene of a play, before he commences work upon the large canvasses. any handy boy will find it an easy matter to prepare his scenery, as it does not require a knowledge of drawing so much as it does the knack of copying scenes from pictures, and the proper placing of the various wings and drops. several simple suggestions for water, field, street, and interior scenes, with sketches of the drops and wings necessary to complete them, have been placed on the following pages of this chapter with a view to helping you with your first attempts at making scenery. by the time you have made some of these you will have had enough practice in the work to devise other designs and work up the details more elaborately. with a little shifting of drops and wings, or substituting one for another, the appearance of the scene can be sufficiently changed to make it as good as an entirely new setting. several examples of this will be found among the illustrations. =for materials=, you will require some large pieces of paper, several sheets of cardboard, a box of colored chalks, a pair of shears, and a pot of paste--add to this a bunch of laths with which to make the frames, and some nails, screws, and tacks for fastenings. the back of wall-paper presents an excellent surface for chalks, and several rolls will cost you but a few cents, as you can purchase old-style patterns. suit and shoe boxes will furnish the necessary cardboard. [illustration: fig. .--drop for ocean scene.] [illustration: fig. .--drop (_d_ in ocean scene).] the size and proportion of the scenery will depend entirely upon those of the proscenium, and as these are governed by the size of the picture frame you procure, no attempt will be made to give you the dimensions of wings and drops; but you will get a good idea as to their proper proportion from the illustrations shown of the scenes set up, as the line of the proscenium opening is dotted upon them. in the full-page illustration of the completed theatre preceding chapter xxiii is shown =an ocean scene= in which the entire depth of the stage is used for the setting. here you will notice the drops have been made to extend beyond the sides and top of the proscenium opening, a thing which is necessary in order that those of your audience sitting close to the front of the theatre, or to one side of the centre of the stage, will not be able to see through the openings between the drops and wings. figure shows how the four drops necessary for this scene should be made. first sketch drop _a_, shading the clouds and waves with colored chalks as shown in the drawing of the completed theatre. then cut out the opening in its centre, carefully following the outlines of the clouds. lay this sheet upon another and mark out drop _b_, with a smaller opening in its centre, and then, after coloring and cutting it out in the same manner as you did drop _a_, lay it upon a third sheet and mark out drop _c_, with a still smaller opening in its centre (see fig. ). drop _d_ forms the background of the scene, and should be made as shown in fig. , with a horizontal line separating the sky and water. with the exception of a few white caps in the foreground, no waves should be shown upon this drop. if wall-paper is used for the scenery, several widths will have to be pasted together for each drop. [illustration: fig. .--waves for ocean scene.] =additional waves= should be made out of strips of paper and fastened together as shown in fig. , with the crests of the waves of each strip extending a little above those of the strip in front. prepare three sets of the waves, and, after pasting one to the bottom of each drop, bend out the crests so as to leave a little space between each strip. these drops should now be tacked to frames made out of laths similar to fig. , with the corners nailed and braced with diagonal strips. place a couple of tacks in the top of these frames, and to these attach cords. the drops should now be hung by means of the cords to the tacks in the top strips of the stage framework. space them about as shown in the illustration of the completed theatre, and so adjust the lengths of the cords that, from a point equal to where the centre of your audience will be located, the horizon lines of your drops will appear on a line with one another. then having found the proper lengths of the cords, make loops in them so the drops can be quickly hung in place without further adjustment. [illustration: fig. .--frames for drops.] [illustration: fig. .--rocks for a seashore scene.] in the foreground of the ocean scene a stone wall has been shown, which should be made upon a strip of cardboard, with the joints of the stones marked off with gray paint. this strip should be set against the bottom of the front drop. to change this setting into =a mid-ocean scene=, it is only necessary to substitute a strip of waves similar to fig. in place of the stone wall; and =a seashore scene= can be had by making a strip of rocks similar to fig. to set against the front drop, and covering the foreground with sand to form the beach. [illustration: fig. .--drop (_g_ in field and blockhouse scene).] [illustration: fig. .--drop (_h_ in field, blockhouse, and street scene).] [illustration: fig. . a field scene.] [illustration: fig. . a blockhouse scene.] [illustration: fig. .--wing. fence and foliage (_i_ in field scene).] [illustration: fig. .--wing (_j_ in field and blockhouse scene).] [illustration: fig. .--wing (_k_ in street and blockhouse scene).] [illustration: fig. .--standard for trees.] =a field scene= should be set up as shown in fig. . make the background drop _g_ similar to fig. , tacking it to a frame as you did the drops of the ocean scene, and prepare the foreground drop _h_ similar to fig. , tacking its upper edge to a single lath from which it can be hung in position. draw the leaves upon drop _h_ about as shown in the illustration, and in cutting out the strip make a few openings between the leaves as shown in the drawing. wings _i_ and _j_ are shown in figs. and . these should be drawn upon cardboard, and then cut out with a sharp knife, with openings made in places between the leaves and branches. tack the bottom of =the trees= to small blocks of wood for standards (see fig. ), and drive brads through the blocks so they will stick into the stage floor and prevent the trees from toppling over. in setting up this scene, as in the case of all others, you will have to shift the pieces until all entrances and exits are hidden by the wings. the places can then be marked upon the stage floor. this scene will occupy but the front part of the stage. if a greater depth is desired, it will be necessary to prepare additional wings, which can be made similar to figs. and , with possibly a few changes in the form of the branches and leaves. figure shows a tree that can be used for the centre of a scene. a little earth scattered over the stage floor will give the appearance of ground. [illustration: fig. .--blockhouse (_l_ in blockhouse scene).] by using the same background drop, _g_, and the foreground drop, _h_ (figs. and ), trees, _j_ and _k_ (figs. and ), and making a blockhouse and stockade similar to _l_ (fig. ), you will have the proper setting for =a blockhouse scene=, such as is shown in fig . the blockhouse should be fastened to a strip of wood in the same manner as you fastened the ends of the trees (see fig. ). for outdoor scenery, and especially forest scenes, the writer remembers using =pine boughs= for trees and shrubbery. these were cut into pieces of the right length for trees, with their ends pointed so they would stick into gimlet holes made in the laths of the stage floor; and loose pieces were thrown in between for shrubbery. mounds and hills were made with moss. this saved the work of making so many drops, and, of course, looked a little more realistic than paper scenery, but was not as handy to set up, and caused longer delays between the scenes. [illustration: fig. .--drop (_m_ in street scene).] =rustic bridges= can easily be constructed with a few twigs, as can also rustic seats and fences. a very realistic =pond or lake= can be represented by placing a piece of a mirror upon the stage floor, and banking sand or moss around its edge. [illustration: fig. . a street scene.] [illustration: fig. .--wing (_o_ in street scene).] [illustration: fig. .--wing (_n_ in street scene).] figure shows a simple setting for =a street scene=.--the background will be made similar to fig. , and the wings _n_ and _o_ as shown in figs. and , while drop _h_ and wing _k_ are the same as used for the other scenes (see figs. and ). wing _o_, the house upon the right of the stage, will be made in one piece, with window openings cut in it and covered with tissue-paper ruled to represent the window-sash (see fig. ). show the trim around the openings and also the siding upon the building. then fasten the back of the wing to a standard such as used for the trees (see fig. ). wing _n_, or building upon the left of the stage, will require a number of pieces of cardboard to show its perspective correctly. make the front of the building as shown in fig. . then fasten a piece of cardboard to edge _a_ for the side, three pieces at _b_, _c_, and _d_ for the roof, and a strip across the front at _e_ for the porch roof. the pieces can be fastened together best with strips of linen glued to their inside surfaces. the porch roof will be supported upon four posts made out of strips of cardboard as shown in fig. . this building will be the village post-office, grocery, and hardware store combined, and should have a number of signs to this effect painted upon the front. [illustration: fig. .--a simple interior scene.] [illustration: fig. .--pattern for walls of interior scene.] to the several outdoor scenes already described, you should add a setting of =an interior=, as you will probably have occasion to use one in any play you produce in your miniature theatre. figure shows a simple interior, the size of which will, of course, depend upon that of the stage. however, it should not be very deep. figure shows the pattern by which to cut the five pieces of cardboard, of which the walls are made. the edges of these pieces should be glued together with strips of linen. cut the door openings at _f_, _g_, and _h_, two window openings at _i_ and _j_, and slots in the tops of _b_ and _d_ at _k_, _l_, _m_, _n_, _o_, and _p_, as shown in the drawing. make the doors out of pieces of cardboard, hinging them to the openings with linen strips, and draw the window-sash and their divisions upon tissue-paper and paste them over the openings _i_ and _j_. oil the paper if it is not very transparent, so the audience can see the villain when he passes by the windows. make a wainscoting around the walls to the height of the window-sills, ruling the boards with a lead pencil, and draw a line across wall _c_ a little below the bottom of slots _m_ and _n_ in walls _b_ and _d_, as shown. if you have used white cardboard for the walls, and not injured its calendered surface when cutting the openings, it will have a good plaster appearance. otherwise, cover the cardboard with white or tinted paper. paint the wainscoting and the door and window trimmings brown. to set up the room, bend the walls into the shape shown in fig. . then cut three strips of cardboard several inches longer than the width of the room and slip them into the slots you have cut in the tops of the walls _b_ and _d_ (see _q_, _r_, and _s_, fig. ). _t_ is a drop like _s_, but is suspended in front from the gridiron. these strips form the ceiling of the room, and generally have beams or mouldings painted across their bottom edges, but it will simplify matters to leave them plain, as shown in the illustration. the line which you have drawn across the rear wall corresponds with these strips. cut a number of illustrations from a magazine for pictures, and either hang them upon the walls or paste them to the cardboard. doll furnishings can be used to complete the scene. there are a great variety of subjects upon which a boy can base his plays, but what probably will make the most interesting programme and one of the simplest to prepare is =a war drama=.--in this you can picture a number of battles after the descriptions you have read in your history, or dramatize one of your favorite war stories, bringing its young heroes before the footlights. this class of plays will give you an opportunity to use =paper soldiers= for actors. probably you have a supply of these, but if not, you can get them at any toy store. they come upon printed sheets ready to be cut out, and as they cost only a penny a sheet it pays to buy rather than make them. cavalry and infantry of about every nationality, indians in various positions upon horseback and on foot, and a large assortment of american soldiers in marching order and fighting array are now to be found in these sheets. for =marching soldiers= across the stage, tack their feet to a lath as shown in fig. , and then slide the lath across the stage, at the same time pushing out one of the laths forming the floor. the moving of the laths scarcely will be noticeable from the position of your audience. [illustration: fig. .--scheme for marching soldiers.] =separate standards= for soldiers you wish to set about the stage should have small strips of cardboard glued to their backs and bent out in the same manner as easel-backs are made. at least four or five of the soldiers should be jointed so they can walk about the stage and appear perhaps a little more graceful in their actions than their stiff-jointed comrades who are fastened to laths. figure shows =a jointed figure= made out of a paper soldier. suppose you have a soldier in some such position as shown in fig. . first cut off the legs along the dotted lines shown in the illustration, each leg in two pieces (see _a_, _b_, _c_, and _d_, figs. and ). remove also the hand projecting beyond the body at _e_. a small piece of cardboard of the same thickness as that upon which the soldiers are printed should be glued to the back of _c_ and _d_ where those pieces were cut into in cutting off the legs (see _f_, _g_, and _h_, fig. ). when this has been done, pivot _a_ and _b_ to _c_ and _d_ at _f_ and _g_, and then pivot the ends of _c_ and _d_ at _h_ and _i_ to the hips of the soldier (see fig. ). thread should be used for pivoting these pieces together, with knots tied on either end. new arms will have to be made, as those printed upon the body cannot be cut out. these are made in two pieces similar to _j_ and _k_ in fig. . you will find it a simple thing to make them and paint the hands flesh color and the sleeves to match the rest of the clothes. pivot _j_ to _k_ at _l_ and the end of _k_ to the shoulder at _m_. the arm printed upon the side of the figure should now be painted so as to blend with the color of the coat. the white cardboard glued to the joints should also be painted to correspond with the rest of the body. you will find this method of making a jointed soldier much easier than to attempt to draw, paint, and cut out one of your own design. figures in other positions can, of course, be jointed in the same manner. [illustration: figs. - . scheme for making a jointed figure.] the movements of a jointed figure are controlled with pieces of silk-thread attached to the hands, feet, and head, as shown in fig. . these threads should be carried through the top of the stage framework and loops made in their ends should slip over the fingers of your hands, in which position they can be operated. it will take a little practice beforehand to enable you to work the threads successfully, so you will not be responsible for such laughable performances as making him dance while delivering a farewell address, or leave the scene through the top of the stage during an exciting portion of the play. in an interior scene, such as fig. , the jointed figures will have to make their entrées and exits through the passages between the front walls and the proscenium, as the operating cords would interfere with them going through the other openings. the figures which pass through the doors will have to be tacked to the floor laths and shoved across the stage. all the small movable furnishings of a scene are known as =stage properties=.--these include such pieces as furniture, boats, carts, and trains. [illustration: fig. . fig. . a tent.] =tents= will be necessary properties for an encampment scene. these should be cut out of white paper the pattern of fig. , then folded along the dotted lines, and edge _b_ pasted over the flap _a_. the front flaps will be left open. figure shows the tent set up. =an indian teepee= will also be required for indian warfare. follow the pattern shown in fig. , marking it off as though it were made up of a number of skins, and place a few figures of decoration upon it. then cut three or four short sticks and, after crossing their ends as shown in fig. , fasten the paper covering over them, bending flap _a_ along the dotted line, and pasting _b_ over it. [illustration: fig. . fig. . a teepee.] the field scene (fig. ) and the blockhouse scene (fig. ) will be used for the settings of your battle-fields. for your miniature sea-fights, the mid-ocean scene will be used. =battleships= should be made out of cardboard as shown in fig. , with the masts reënforced at the back with strips of wood, and the rigging made with heavy thread. it will be well to have a number of pictures from which to work in drawing and painting the various ships of your fleet. the hull of each ship should be curved as shown in the illustration, and mounted upon a cardboard rocker. make a number of slashes along the curved edge of the hull, and bend out the little flaps alternately, first to one side and then to the other (see _a_ in drawing), after which glue them to the rocker. attach a cord at _b_, with which to pull the ship across the stage, and another cord at _c_, with which to guide the stern. the hull will, of course, run between the strips of waves, so as to be half concealed by them. a person cannot imagine how realistic these little battleships appear when tossing about upon the toy waves, without having seen them in operation. [illustration: fig. .--a battleship.] =trains and wagons= can be cut out of cardboard and moved across the stage by means of laths to which they have been attached in the same manner as the paper soldiers shown in fig. . toy wagons, carriages, and an automobile such as described in chapter xxvi, may also be used in some scenes. rain, wind, thunder, and such stage sounds, a moon or sun-rise, and lightning, as produced on the stage, are known as =mechanical effects=.--most of these can easily be adapted to your theatre, though the apparatus need not be as elaborate as that used by professionals. =thunder= can be produced by means of a large piece of heavy cardboard held by one corner, as shown in the chapter heading, and vibrated back and forth. the beating of =rain= upon the outside of a house is imitated with a small quantity of dried peas or beans dropped upon the head of a drum or into a cardboard box. every time the door is opened during such a storm, the audience should hear the whistling of the =wind=, which is imitated by a few low drawn-out whistles. the stage must, of course, be dark for producing =lightning=, in order to get the best effects. the flashes can be made by igniting a small amount of flash-light powder, placed in a tin can cover. =the roar of cannon= and firing of smaller guns can be imitated to good effect upon a drum. chapter xxv making a toy railway [illustration: bicycle powered railway.] it is often thought that a toy railway is beyond a boy's ingenuity to construct, whereas, in reality, it is one of the simplest toys he can make. this applies to the tracks, stations, and cars of every description, all of which can be made with a few strips of wood, some spools, nails, cardboard, and a bottle of glue, for materials. if you have passed the age of caring for such toys as this, you will, no doubt, enjoy the making of one for your younger brother, or for one of your boy relatives. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .--the toy railway in operation.] [illustration: fig. .--support for trolley-line.] figure shows a railway set up and in running order. as shown in the illustration, =the trolley-line=, or overhead cable, runs around the wheels of two supports, one at either end of the track. prepare four pieces of wood the shape and size of that shown in fig. for the uprights of these supports, and make two wheels three inches in diameter. the wheels may be marked out with a piece of string and pencil as shown in fig. , chapter xv, if you haven't a compass. when the wheels have been cut out, place them in your bench-vise, one at a time, and with a rasp make a groove around the edge as shown at _c_, fig. . bore a three-eighths inch hole through each upright at _f_, fig. , and another through the centre of each wheel. now fasten two of the uprights six inches apart upon a block of wood, as shown at _a_ and _b_, fig. . whittle a shaft to fit loosely in the holes of the uprights, and, after slipping it into them, fasten one of the wheels upon one end and a small spool upon the other (see _c_ and _d_ in fig. ). a weight of some sort should be fastened to the base, as shown at _e_. the uprights for the other support should be similarly mounted upon another block of wood. fasten the remaining wheel to an axle run through the holes in the uprights, and, as it is unnecessary to have a spool upon the other end of the axle, cut it off short and drive a nail through it to prevent it from slipping through the holes. having thus prepared the supports, place them as far apart as you wish to extend the railway, and run a cord around the two wheels and tie it. then set the supports a little farther apart, if necessary, to tighten the cord. run another cord from spool _d_ to =a water-motor=, steam engine, or whatever power you can get with which to operate the railway. a bicycle inverted with the tire removed from its rear wheel has been used satisfactorily, as has also a sewing-machine with the belt slipped off and the cord from the spool put in its place. [illustration: fig. .--the tracks.] a good substitute for the tin tracks ordinarily sold in shops for toy railways will be found in those shown in fig. . these =tracks= consist of quarter-inch strips mounted upon pieces of cardboard. make a small gimlet-hole in one end of each stick, and drive a short finishing nail in the opposite end (see fig. ). cut the cardboard strips the length of the sticks, and tack them to the sticks as shown in the illustration. if inch and one-half spools are used for the car wheels, the inside gauge of the tracks should be an inch and three-quarters. by lapping the cardboard strips over the ends of the sticks, and the sticks over the ends of the cardboard strips, and placing the nail dowels in the ends of the sticks as in the drawing, a strong track is formed when the pieces are fitted together. this may be extended to any desired length by adding more sections to it. [illustration: fig. .--a top view of car truck.] [illustration: fig. .--spool wheels.] [illustration: fig. . fig. .] =the cars= for this railway will have their trucks constructed alike, and it is a simple matter to transform a car from one style into another. figure shows a top view of a truck. for the bed of this cut a three-eighths-inch board twelve inches long by two and one-quarter inches wide, and, after rounding the ends as shown in the drawing, cut a mortise at _a_ and _b_ two and three-eighths inches from either end. procure two one and one-half inch spools for wheels, and drive a wooden peg through the hole in each, cutting off the ends so they project a little beyond the hole, as shown in fig. . then bore four holes in the edges of the truck-bed with a gimlet at _c_, _d_, _e_, and _f_ (see drawing), and, after setting the spools in mortises _a_ and _b_, pivot them in place with small finishing nails driven into the wooden pegs. these nails should fit loosely in the gimlet holes. in order to drive them into the exact centres of the spools, it is best to locate these points upon the ends of the pegs before placing the spools in the frame. a quarter-inch hole should be bored in the top of the truck-bed at _g_ and _h_ (fig. ) in which to fasten the two uprights _i_ and _j_ (see fig. ). make the uprights four inches long and whittle a peg upon the lower ends to fit holes _g_ and _h_ (see fig. ). bore a hole with a gimlet in the top of each and run a piece of heavy wire from one to the other, bending it as shown in fig. . fasten _k_ between _i_ and _j_, as shown. place a small brass ring upon the wire before you fasten it in place. a small hook should be screwed into one end of the truck and a screw-eye into the other end for couplings, should you wish to hitch two or more cars together. =a gondola car=, such as shown in fig. , should have its truck made similar to fig. , with the exception that it should be two inches shorter, in order that cigar-box strips can be used for the side-pieces. cut the strips an inch and one-half high and fasten them to the bed of the car with brads. this car may be used as a trailer. [illustration: fig. .--a gondola car.] [illustration: fig. .--side view.] [illustration: fig. .--end view.] [illustration: figs. - .--details of toy street car.] the car shown in fig. is a rather crude affair, but with a little more work may be transformed into a better-looking car-- =a street car= such as is shown in figs. and being an example of what can be made. the sides, ends, and roof of this car are made of cardboard, the patterns for the cutting of which are shown on page . figure shows a cross section taken through the centre of the car. the two side-pieces _a_ should be first prepared as shown in fig. . with a ruler and lead-pencil draw in the windows about as shown in the drawing, using double lines to indicate the sash. then, with a sharp knife, cut out the centre of each just inside of the inner line. these windows may be left open or may be covered on the inside with tissue-paper. if tissue-paper is used oil it to make it more transparent. when the two sides have been prepared, bend each along the dotted lines (see fig. ) and tack one to each side of your car truck as shown in fig. . when properly bent, the distance between the upper part of the sides should be two and three-quarters inches. cut the two inner ends of the car the shape of fig. , using a compass with a radius of two and one-half inches with which to describe the curve at the top. draw in the panels and sash lines as you did those upon the side-pieces, being careful to get them on the same level, and cut out the door and window openings. fasten these end-pieces between the sides with glue, and also tack them to the uprights of the car (_i_ and _j_, fig. ), which will come just inside of them. the roof is made in two sections (_b_ and _c_, fig. ). for _b_ cut a piece of cardboard twelve and one-quarter by three and three-quarter inches (fig. ), draw the curved end with a compass, using the radius shown on the drawing, and slit the corners as indicated by the dotted lines. when this piece has thus been prepared, remove the wire from the top of the truck (see fig. ). bend the cardboard over the sides and ends of the car, and lap corners _d_ and _e_ over _f_ and _g_, and _h_ and _i_ over _j_ and _k_, tacking them with thread to hold them in place. to fasten this part of the roof to the top of the car, cut a number of small strips of linen, and glue them to the under side of the roof and to the inside face of the sides and ends of the car (see fig. ). the upper portion of the roof _c_ should be made out of a piece of cardboard bent into the shape of fig. and cut at the ends so the upper portion of _c_ projects a little beyond its sides. draw the ventilation lights upon the sides of _c_ as shown on the drawings, and then fasten the piece upon the top of _b_ with strips of linen in the same manner as you fastened _b_ in place. _c_ should now have the same curve to its top as _b_. cut and glue a piece of cardboard in each end of _c_ to complete the roof. the shape of this piece is shown in fig. . the outer ends of the car should be made as shown in fig. and tacked around the ends of the wooden truck platform, and also fastened to the under side of the roof with strips of linen. the window openings may be cut in the ends, but it will make a stronger car if they are simply drawn upon it. cut four cardboard steps similar to fig. and tack them to the sides of the front and rear platforms. when the car has been put together, replace the wire in the tops of uprights _i_ and _j_ (fig. ), running the ends through the roof (see fig. ). paint the sides and ends of the car yellow with brown trimmings, and paint the roof a light gray. water colors can be used for the purpose. letter the name of your car-line upon the sides and the number of the car upon each end and side. the route should be lettered upon strips of cardboard with pins run through them as shown in fig. , these strips to stick in the roof of the car (see figs. and ). having seen how the car is made, you will find it a simple matter to make designs for =other cars=, using the same scheme for the trucks, and altering the patterns for the sides, ends, and roof, to suit the design. nothing has, as yet, been said about the =operation of the railway=, and though fig. probably shows sufficiently clearly how it is run, a few words may be helpful. the car or cars are placed between the wooden tracks, and the trolley (or cord attached to the ring on top of the car) is tied to the trolley-line as in the illustration. upon starting your engine, water-motor, or whatever motive-power you have, the car will run from one end of the track to the other. when it has reached the support of the trolley-line, it will stop long enough for the cord trolley to pass around the wooden wheel, and then run in the opposite direction until the other support is reached. it will thus be seen that the trolley hangs to the upper part of the cable, or trolley-line, in running one way, and to the lower part on the return run. in changing the direction of the run, the ring to which the trolley is attached slides to the other end of the car. [illustration: fig. .--the railway depot.] =a station= such as is illustrated in fig. is made out of cardboard and mounted upon a seven-eighths-inch board large enough to form a railway platform. after cutting out the side-and end-pieces, with door and window openings placed as shown in the illustration, fasten them together with strips of linen glued in the corners. make the roof low and extend it over the platform upon each side and over the gable-ends, as shown in the illustration. paint the sides of the depot the regulation depot red, and the roof a shingle or slate color. paint the door and window-sash black, letter the name of the station upon the gable-ends, and with a ruler and lead-pencil rule off the boards upon the sides, and the slate or shingles upon the roof. as this is a typical railway station, two may be made of the same pattern, one for either end of your car line. chapter xxvi clockwork automobiles [illustration: children play with toy automobiles.] it is generally easy for a boy to get hold of a set of old clockworks, for a discarded clock of some sort is almost certain to be found in the household storeroom. if the main-spring is intact, it is highly probable that a little tinkering and cleaning will be sufficient to put the mechanism in working order, at least so that it can be used for running small engines, automobiles, and other mechanical toys that most interest boys. before taking a set of works apart, it is well to examine it carefully and note the positions of the various springs and wheels, so it will be possible to put them together again properly should you wish to do so. without taking notice of this, you are likely to have a handful of wheels as a result, with which you can do nothing except perhaps convert them into tops. [illustration: fig. .--top view of wooden frame.] [illustration: fig. . the car completed.] [illustration: fig. . the framework.] the adaption of a set of works to =an automobile touring-car= is shown in figs. and , the former showing the little machine completed and the latter its frame with the clockworks fastened in place. the same scheme as that used for the cars of the toy railway described in the preceding chapter will be followed in making =the frame= of the automobile, as that is about the simplest way, and makes a light, easy-running vehicle. the bed will be cut of a different pattern, however, as will be seen in fig. . lay out the piece to the dimensions shown upon this drawing, and then cut it out, making a mortise in each end for the wheels to fit in. the spool wheels should be mounted in the same manner as those of the railway cars, for which see fig. , chapter xxv, and the directions upon page . one end of spool _a_ should be pivoted with a longer finishing nail than those used for the other pivots, so that when driven in place about half an inch will project beyond the frame. a small silk spool should be fastened upon this for a belt-wheel (see _b_, fig. ). the hole in one of these spools is about three-sixteenths of an inch in diameter, so, in order to make it fit tightly upon the nail, it is necessary to fill in around the nail with sealing-wax. to do this, turn the wooden frame upon its edge and place the spool over the nail, being careful to get the nail in the exact centre of the hole. then hold a stick of sealing-wax over the spool, and with a lighted match melt the end and allow it to drip into the hole. when the hole has been partially filled, allow the wax to harden a little, and then press it down around the nail with the end of a match, being careful not to throw the spool out of centre by doing so. the hole should then be filled to the top. we are now ready to prepare the clockworks for mounting upon the wooden frame. the works shown in fig. are from an alarm clock, but if you have a striking clock, or one with works a little different from those shown in the illustration, it does not make a bit of difference in the scheme for attaching the works. the three parts shown in the foreground of fig. must first be removed from the works. these will be recognized readily in any clock, as they are pivoted close together, and regulate the speed of the other wheels. when they have been removed, the main-spring will unwind rapidly. the frame of the works shown in the illustration is held together with nuts, so that in removing the wheels it was necessary to unscrew two of them, spring the frame open enough to let the wheels drop out, and then replace the nuts again in their former positions. if the frame of your clockworks is riveted together, the wheels will have to be broken out. a small silk spool, such as _b_ (fig. ), should be fastened upon the small pivot which originally operated the clock's hands, for a belt-wheel. lay the works upon a table with the face-side down, and, after centring the hole of the spool upon the pivot, fasten it in place with sealing-wax in the same manner as you attached spool _b_. the works should now be attached to the wooden frame. place them with the striker uppermost, near the edge of the frame, so that the small belt-wheels are in line with one another. then bore a number of gimlet holes in the wooden frame and run copper wire through them, passing it around the posts of the clock-frame and twisting its ends until the works are firmly fastened in place. a rubber band about an eighth of an inch wide and long enough to reach from one belt-wheel to the other should be procured for =the belt.=--this should stretch just enough to cling upon the spools, as more than that would cause too much friction. [illustration: figs. - .--patterns for the automobile touring-car.] before going any further with the construction of the automobile =test the machine=, to be sure that it is in perfect running order. wind up the main-spring, pressing a finger against one of the wheels to hold it in check until you are ready to start the machine. when properly made, the clockwork automobile should run a distance of from twenty to twenty-five feet upon a wooden floor, while about three-quarters of that distance should be covered upon a floor with a fairly smooth carpet. =the cardboard sides= and other details of the automobile should now be made. the pattern for these have been so shown in figs. - that they can easily be laid out to the proper shape and size by means of the process of enlarging by squares described on page , chapter viii. white cardboard should be used upon which to draw these pieces, and the thinner it is the easier you will find it to work with. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .--cardboard side of automobile.] first prepare the two sides, cutting them out by the pattern of fig. . then glue the bottom edge of each side to the edge of the wooden frame, cutting holes in the left side for the belt-wheels and projecting posts to run through (see fig. and _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, and _e_, fig. ). the top to the front of the car should now be cut as shown in fig. , the distance between the sides being measured to get the piece of proper dimensions. bend the edges as in fig. , and glue them to the inner surfaces of the side-pieces as shown by the dotted lines in fig. . in the same way cut and glue a piece of cardboard between the side-pieces at _g_ and _h_ (fig. ) for the seat-backs. the bent edges of these pieces are shown by dotted lines in the illustration. draw four =wheels= as shown in fig. , using a compass with which to describe the circles, and cut them out with a sharp knife. you can cut out between the spokes, if you wish, or leave them solid. glue the wheels to the cardboard, placing their centres about as located at _i_ and _j_, fig. . four =mud-guards= should be cut like fig. , with flaps made along one edge. then bend these guards around the tops of the wheels, and, after applying glue to the flaps, press them against the cardboard side, holding your fingers upon the flaps until the glue has dried (see fig. ). the guards should be placed a little above the tops of the wheels. cut four =lamps= like fig. , and glue end _k_ of two upon the front of the automobile at _l_ (fig. ) and one of the other two upon each side at _m_. these lamps are shown in position in the illustration of the completed automobile (fig. ). draw and cut =the steering-wheel= similarly to fig. , and, after pivoting it to the end of a strip of cardboard with a pin, as shown in fig. , bend the lower end and glue it to the under side of the cardboard top _f_ at _n_ (see fig. , also fig. ). make a =horn= like fig. , and glue it to the steering-wheel as shown in fig. . a strip of cardboard about the size of that used for the upright of the steering-wheel should be cut for =the brake=, and glued to the inside surface of the right side of the car at _o_ (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .--the steering-wheel.] =the chauffeur= should now be made. cut his head and body the shape and size of fig. , drawing the face upon each side with goggles over the eyes. cut the arms in two pieces the shape of _p_ and _q_ (fig. ), and then pivot _p_ to _q_ at _r_ and the end of _q_ to the shoulder of the body at _s_, using thread for fastening the pieces together. paint the hat, coat, sleeves, and gloves a leather color, and the face flesh color. the body should then be fastened to the hammer of the clockworks with sealing-wax, as shown in fig. , while the left hand should be glued to the edge of the steering-wheel and the right to the end of the brake (see fig. ). by thus attaching the body to the end of the hammer, and winding up the small spring, the chauffeur will shake violently when the auto runs across the floor, showing the vibrations of the machine in a greatly exaggerated and amusing manner. it is now only necessary to =paint the machine= to complete it. the photograph (fig. ) indicates the different colors used. the lamps, and top, ends, and sides of the front portion of the car should be painted the color of brass, and the rest of the sides, with the exception of a strip along the bottom and the edge of the arms, should be painted vermilion. paint the inside of the car and the edges of the seat-arms tan color, to represent leather upholstering. with black paint, or ink, stripe off the door and trimmings upon the sides and top of the machine, as shown in figs. , , and . blacken the brake and steering-wheel and the spokes and rims of the wheels. along the bottom of each side roughly indicate some machinery with black paint, about as it is drawn in fig. . when you have tired of your touring-car, you can easily convert it into =an automobile delivery wagon=, such as illustrated in fig. . to make this you will require the same frame as that used for the touring-car, with the clockworks and belt-wheels attached in the same manner. if you have made the touring-car, remove the cardboard sides from its wooden frame, separating the cardboard from the wood carefully, so you can put the machine together again when you wish. if you haven't made this automobile, you will find the details for the construction of the frame in figs. and , and the manner of performing the work described on pages to . [illustration: fig. .--an automobile delivery wagon.] =the cardboard sides= are much easier to prepare than those for the touring-car, as they are straight and require but little cutting. the outline for these is shown in fig. , surrounding the drawing of the completed wagon. lay out one side upon a piece of cardboard, using the dimensions given upon the drawing, and then place it upon a board and cut it out with your knife. using this as a pattern, place it upon another piece of cardboard and run a pencil around its edges, thus marking out the second side. in cutting out the latter piece, run your knife a little inside of the line in order to allow for the increase in size caused by marking it out with the first cardboard side. having prepared the two sides, draw panels upon them in some such form as shown in the illustration, separating them with three lines. draw a small window, with its top slightly arched, near the front edge of each side, and cut an opening for it (see illustration). glue the sides to the edges of the truck in the same manner as those of the touring-car were done, piercing holes for the posts of the clockworks to fit in, and openings for the belt-wheels to project through, in the left side. cut a piece of cardboard for the back of the wagon, fit it between the sides, and fasten it in place by gluing a number of linen strips to it and the sides upon the inner or unexposed surfaces. then cut a piece of cardboard for the roof, making it about two inches longer than the sides, to give it the proper projection over the front of the wagon. fasten this piece in position in the same manner as you fastened the back of the wagon. make the floor and footboard for the wagon out of a piece of cardboard bent as shown in fig. , and fasten it across the top edges of the projecting portions of the sides with linen strips. cut a strip for a seat, and fit it between the sides an inch and one-half above the floor. =the wheels= of an automobile wagon contain fourteen spokes, but as you have the pattern for the touring-car wheels of twelve spokes, you can just as well use it in making the wagon wheels. they should be mounted upon the sides of the wagon, a trifle above the bottoms of the spool wheels, as shown in the illustration, so they will not touch the carpet when the machine is operated. =all other portions= of the wagon should be made of the same patterns given for the touring-car, viz. the chauffeur (figs. and ), the steering-wheel (figs. and ), the brake (fig. ), and the lamps (fig. ). as the legs of the chauffeur will show, it will be necessary to cut a pair out of cardboard (the drawing shows the shape clearly enough to work by) and fasten them to his body. fasten the chauffeur upon the seat and glue his left hand to the steering-wheel, placing the latter in front of him, as shown in the drawing. stick the lower end of the cardboard upright of the steering-wheel upon a pin run through the wagon floor from the under side. glue the upper end of the brake to the chauffeur's hand and the lower end to the side of the wagon. =paint the wagon= with water colors, making the sides, end, and roof olive green, the steering-wheel, brake, and spokes of wheels black, and the lamps yellow or the color of brass. in painting the sides show the battery compartments upon them below what would properly be the bottom of the wagon (see illustration). leave the cardboard white below this box, as it represents no portion of the machine, but is necessarily brought down so far to conceal the wooden frame. it will give the machine a more finished appearance if, after painting, you go over it with black paint and a fine brush and stripe the panels upon the sides, following the lines which you drew upon them with a pencil. letter the word "delivery" upon the centre panel of each side, and the firm name in the small panel between the lamp and window. by attaching a set of clockworks in the same manner as described for the automobiles, you can make =a clockwork railway=, constructing the cars similarly to the street car shown in fig. , chapter xxv, and using the schemes in the same chapter for the tracks and depots. chapter xxvii work to do with a knife [illustration: boy sharpening knife.] a number of years ago a friend of the writer paid a visit to a large penitentiary where the prisoners were engaged in the manufacture of boots and shoes. among the workers he became particularly interested in a small german boy who was industriously marking the backs of boots with the lot numbers always to be found upon these goods. the boy didn't have an ink bottle near him, and yet, with what appeared to be a wooden stick, was marking the numbers in ink. a closer inspection disclosed the fact that the pointed stick held by the lad was nothing more or less than =a home-made fountain pen.=--upon seeing that the visitor was struck with the novelty of the affair, the superintendent presented him with one of the pens and told him of its origin. the pen was the invention of a forger who was placed in this department of the prison, and when its good qualities were seen it was very quickly adopted by all of the prisoners in place of the pointed stick and ink-bottle they had been using. the pen is shown in fig. . it is made out of a piece of elderberry wood about five inches long, a small glass vial, and a piece of sponge. first push out the pith of the piece of elderberry wood (this you will find easily removed), and then point one end pen-shape, as shown in the illustration, and split it back from the point about an inch in the same manner as a writing pen is made. whittle the other end of the stick so it will fit tightly in the neck of the glass vial. this bottle, or reservoir, should be filled with ink, and a small piece of the sponge you have procured should be pushed into the hollow of the pen above the point (see illustration), as a means of preventing the ink from flowing too freely upon the point. [illustration: fig. .--a home-made fountain pen.] although the pen was originally made with a coarse point for marking heavy figures, you will find that it can be made to write to a reasonable degree of fineness by whittling a fine point upon it. [illustration: fig. .--the magic pin-wheel.] =the magic pin-wheel= represented by fig. can be made with a few minutes' work, and is something entirely new in the line of magic toys. there are probably few persons who will understand this simple yet mysterious toy when they see it properly operated, until the secret is disclosed to them. as you will see by looking at the drawing, the pin-wheel consists of nothing more than a stick notched along one edge, and a thin piece of wood about an inch in length fastened through its centre to the end of the stick by means of a pin. in cutting the notches it is important to make them of the same length and depth. locate the exact centre of the chip of wood before pivoting it to the end of the stick, and with your knife make a small hole for the pin to run through at this point. be careful to drive the pin in straight. [illustration: fig. .--how to operate the pin-wheel.] =to operate= the pin-wheel, hold the stick in the left hand as illustrated in fig. , and then, taking a coin in the right hand, rub it vigorously across the notches. the vibration produced by rubbing the stick causes the small pin-wheel to revolve about its pin axis. the funny part of the performance is the fact that you can have perfect control over the wheel, and change the direction of its course at will, if you but master one little trick performed with the first and second fingers of the right hand. in holding the coin between the thumb and first finger of the right hand, allow the end of the first finger to extend over the top of the stick and bring the second finger close to the side of it, as shown in the illustration (fig. ). to make the wheel revolve from left to right, allow the end of the first finger to rub along the top edge of the notches; then, to reverse the direction, relieve the pressure of this finger, and press the second finger against the other edge of the notches. at first you may not be able to make the wheel obey your commands, but with a little practice you will find it a simple matter to make it change its direction without any one noticing how you perform the magical trick. =a brass tack= driven into the stick a little below the notches, about the point where the thumb of your left hand will strike, will add to the mystic appearance of the pin-wheel. a person invariably notices this the first thing when he sees you operate the wheel (you can make it a point to press your left thumb against the tack), and thinks he has solved the trick. but when you let him have the toy, he will soon find out that all his pressing and pulling upon the tack will have no effect upon the wheel, and beg you to "put him on" to the trick. =a wooden chain and rattle= has long been one of the most interesting pieces of work a boy can make with his jack-knife, and, inasmuch as the making of one requires careful cutting, the exercise is a good test of a boy's skill with this handy tool. [illustration: fig. . fig. . fig. . details of a wooden chain and rattle.] in making the first chain and rattle, you had better use a pine block, as hard wood is not so easy for a beginner to handle. therefore, for a first attempt, select a piece of sound pine free from blemishes, and plane it down to the dimensions, seventeen inches long, two inches wide, and two inches thick. with a lead-pencil mark off ten divisions one inch apart, running the lines around the four sides of the block (see fig. ). then draw two lines lengthwise on each side of the block, as shown at _ab_ and =cd=, making them one-half inch apart and three-quarters of an inch from each edge. with a chisel, cut out the four corners of the block down to the tenth line, as represented by the shading in fig. . =the chain= is to be cut out of the remaining core, one link out of every two divisions. commencing at the top of the block, remove the shaded portions _t_ and _u_ (fig. ), as those would form only half links; then notch out the shaded corners marked _x_ in the drawing, and gradually cut the core into circular links. having finished this operation, draw a circle inside of each link, and cut out the wood inside of it. round the edges of the links as shown in the drawing of the finished chain (fig. ). your success in making a good chain will depend largely upon a good, sharp knife and careful cutting. with a dull knife you are almost certain to split the links when separating one from another. =the rattle= is to be made from the lower portion of the block. this part of the figure is more difficult to cut than the chain. first draw the two lines marked _hi_ and _jk_ in fig. one-half inch from the edges; then draw the cross lines _lm_, _no_, _pq_, and _rs_, as shown in the illustration. these lines should be similarly drawn upon the other three sides of the block. remove the wood from the spaces shaded in the drawing, and you will then have left a centre solid block from which to cut the ball. gently round the corners of this, and then gradually separate it from the surrounding framework. when this has been accomplished, the centre block will slip up and down. now continue cutting the block until it is a perfect round ball, but be careful not to make it small enough to fall out of the frame, for that would spoil the entire piece of work. after completing the cutting, sand-paper the links and rattle until they are perfectly smooth. then oil the wood or give it a coat of varnish. chapter xxviii cork toys [illustration: materials needed and finished articles.] it is surprising the number of small toys that can be made out of corks of different shapes and sizes with the aid of glue, pins, burnt matches, worsted, and cardboard. even though a boy has passed the kindergarten age, he will find this work entertaining for days when the weather is disagreeable without; and though he may not care to play with them himself, his work will not have been wasted, for a younger brother will surely be glad to have some cork animals and birds to add to his menagerie, and a sister no less delighted with a small log-cabin and set of cork furniture. flat and tapered corks can probably be found about the house on old jars and bottles, while the straight variety can be procured at any drug-store. in buying the latter ask for no. , inch and one-half, straight, common corks, half a gross of which will cost about twenty-five cents. [illustration: fig. .--the pig.] =cork animals= are peculiar-looking beasts of abnormal proportions, but all sorts of magical feats are performed by toy makers, and such wonders as =a pig= that can boast of a body as large as that of an elephant is commonly found among the so-called noah's ark animals. to make a pig, first draw its head, as in the drawing of fig. , upon a piece of cardboard, and then, after cutting it out, select a straight cork and make a slit in one end of it in which to stick the head. a little glue applied to the cardboard will hold the head in place. the pig's feet consist of four pieces of burnt matches pointed at the ends and stuck into the cork as shown in fig. , while the tail is formed of a piece of copper wire curled at one end and stuck into the cork. when the pig has been made, paint its head and feet to match its body. [illustration: fig. .--the horse.] =a horse= requires a cork of the same shape as that used for the pig. cut the head out of cardboard and glue it in a slit made in the end of the cork (see fig. ). dip the ends of four burnt matches in glue and stick them in the cork for legs, and fasten a few pieces of worsted in a hole made in the end of the cork for the tail. a piece of thread should be fastened about the animal's neck for reins. after making the horse, take another straight cork for =the elephant=, and cut the head, trunk, ears, and tusks out of a piece of cardboard as shown in the illustration (fig. ). cut the tail out of another piece of cardboard, and glue it in a slit made in the end of the cork. the legs are, of course, larger around than those of the horse, and, as matches will be too slender, whittle four short wooden pegs for them. point these pegs at one end, and, after dipping them in glue, stick them into the cork. [illustration: fig. .--the elephant.] [illustration: fig. .--the giraffe.] =the giraffe= is just as simple to make as any of the animals, for he is put together in the same manner, except that a tapered cork is used for the body. the head and neck are made in one piece of cardboard (see illustration), and a piece of worsted forms the tail. when you have painted the head and neck a tan color to match the cork, and marked a number of brown spots upon the body, this tall and most graceful of animals will appear very life-like. [illustration: fig. .--the korka-bird.] =a porcupine= is simple to make out of a long, straight cork with toothpicks cut into small pieces for quills, and stuck into the cork as close as you can place them. the head and other portions of this animal can easily be made with the aid of a natural history, and it will be a simple matter to devise =other animals= upon the same schemes as those just described, by consulting the pictures in one of these books. it is not necessary to always copy a real animal. use your ingenuity and see what queer-looking creatures you can make. figure gives a suggestion for one of these, which we will call =the korka-bird.=--you will see by looking at the drawing that the two legs are made of matches, the lower ends of which are stuck into a piece of cork for a standard; and the neck consists of a burnt match stuck into the end of the cork with its upper end split to receive the cardboard head. a small chicken-feather stuck into the top of the head (the cardboard being split enough to receive it), two others in the back, and a fourth in the end of the cork compose all the plumage this wonderful bird can boast of, but this lack of feathers is more than made up by a beautiful head, neck, body, and legs, which are gilded. [illustration: fig. .--the duck.] as a suggestion of what can be made in the way of water toys, =a duck= is shown in fig. . the body for this consists of a cork split in half, the head is cut out of a piece of cigar-box, and a small tin keel is fastened to the centre of the under side of the body. a few chicken feathers will form the tail. glue, of course, cannot be used upon the duck, as it would soften in water, so the pieces composing it will have to be fastened together by means of pins. other water toys, such as =canoes=, consisting of a cork split in half, lengthwise, with the inside scooped out by means of your knife, are made with a few minutes' work, and these can be transformed into =small sail-boats= by sticking a toothpick in the bow for a mast and rigging a tiny sail upon it. =cork furniture= is not a new idea for toys, but, inasmuch as many have never heard of them, a few examples of what can be made in this line have been introduced in this chapter. for =a chair=, such as shown in fig. , find a flat cork, and stick four pins in one side for legs, and five pins fairly close together in the other side for the chair-back (see illustration). when the pins have been properly placed, take some worsted and wind it around each of the four legs, crossing from one to another as shown in the drawing, thus forming the chair-rounds. also weave the worsted in and out around the pins forming the chair-back as in the drawing, so that all but the heads of the pins are covered when the operation is completed. [illustration: fig. .--chair.] =the sofa=, illustrated in fig. , is made after the same manner. split a straight cork lengthwise for the seat, placing it flat-side up, and stick pins around three edges of it upon which to wind the worsted. [illustration: fig. .--sofa.] =a small tabouret= is shown in fig. . select a straight cork for the base of this, and, after seeing that a good sharp edge is upon your knife, slice the cork lengthwise, making it hexagonal in shape. then stick six pins in the cork near the upper edge, placing one in each of the six edges (see illustration). when this has been done, weave worsted upon the pins in the same manner as the chair-back was formed. [illustration: fig. . tabouret.] [illustration: fig. .--a cork log-cabin.] =a toy log-cabin=, or slab-hut, as it would properly be called, as the building is first put up and then covered with corks split in half for slabs, is illustrated in fig. . a cardboard box should be procured out of which to make this little building, the proportion of which will determine the shape and size. turn the box bottom side up, and on it construct a gable-roof. cut two pieces of cardboard large enough to make a good projection over the ends of the building, and fasten them to the bottom of the box as shown in the drawing, gluing a number of linen strips to the pieces to hold them securely in place. two pieces of cardboard should be cut to fit the gable-ends, and glued in place with linen strips. cut windows in each side of the box and a door in each end. having completed the little cardboard cabin, split enough straight corks in half lengthwise to cover the walls. sharpen your knife well before commencing this work, so the corks will cut evenly and without breaking. begin gluing these half corks along the bottom of the walls, fitting them end to end as shown in the drawing, and placing one row above another. fit them neatly around the windows and door openings, and if they do not space out as evenly as shown in the illustration, cut some shorter pieces to fill in. the corks will quickly adhere to the cardboard if you press your finger against each for a second or two after placing it in position. the roof may be painted to represent boards or shingles, and a cork stuck in it as shown in the illustration will form the chimney. cover the window openings with paper. tissue-paper will admit more light than ordinary writing-paper, so probably will be the better material. hinge a piece of cardboard to the jamb of each door opening, using small pieces of linen for hinges. rule a few vertical lines upon the doors to represent the boards. all that now remains to be done to complete the cabin is the mounting, for which a seven-eighths-inch board should be procured. use linen strips to fasten the cabin upon this board, placing them upon the inside surfaces of the walls, which can be reached by running your hand through the door openings. chapter xxix definitions of terms and phrases [illustration: selection of books.] the terms and phrases used in describing the work included in this book have been arranged alphabetically in this chapter, together with their definitions. this has been done for the purpose of furnishing a boy with a handy reference, with definitions in a clear and simple form, covering only such points as apply to his particular kind of work. =abbreviations= =d= stands for "penny." e. g. d stands for sixteen-penny nails (see page ). =i.e.= or =i.e.= stands for "that is." =e. g.= or =e.g.= stands for "for example." =viz.= or =viz.= stands for "namely, to wit." ="= stands for "inch" or "inches." e. g. " means two inches. ='= stands for "foot" or "feet." e. g. ' means two feet. =etc.= stands for "and so forth." =abutting surface.=--next or adjoining. =animated animals.=--animals (such as those used in the back-yard circus) which are constructed and then given life. in the case of the circus animals, the boys who enclose themselves in the bodies furnish the animals with life. =bait-stick.=--a stick in a trap, upon which the bait is placed. it is also known as the trigger. =baluster.= see balustrade. =balustrade.=--a series of small spindles or posts (balusters), to the tops of which a bar (hand rail) is attached, placed along the sides of stairs and around stair openings. the hand rail is supported at either end by a post (newel post). e. g. see figs. and . also applied to a solid wall built up the sides of a stairway and around the stair openings. =batten door.=--a door formed by joining the boards together with battens. =battens.=--strips of wood, or cleats, fastened across two or more boards to hold them together, as in making a cover or door. e. g. see figs. , , and . =bevel.=--formed by cutting off the sharp edge of a board or any piece of work. e. g. see fig. . a tool used for laying out bevels =bird's mouth.=--a notch, v-shaped, or the form of a bird's mouth, cut in a piece of work. e. g. see fig. . =blind-nailing.= see page . =brace.=--a strip, board, or heavier piece fastened across two or more pieces to strengthen and steady them; a diagonal strip. =bracket.=--a support, generally triangular in shape, screwed or nailed to a wall or object to hold up such things as shelves and cabinets. =broom-wire.=--the fine wire which is bound around brooms to hold the straw to the end of the broom-stick. =bull's-eye.=--the centre ring of a target. =butt-joint.=--when the square end of one piece of wood butts or sets against another piece, the joint formed is known as a butt-joint. the pieces are not cut into as in the case of making other joints. =casings.=--the finishing strips placed around door and window openings. e. g. see figs. , , and . they are also known as trim. =chair rail.=--a narrow board fastened around the walls of a room at a height equal to that of an ordinary chair-back. =chamfer.=--formed by cutting off the sharp edge of a board. it is much the same as a bevel (see fig. ), but the term is more often applied to cases where the bevel is stopped, instead of running the entire length of the edge, and its ends rounded up to meet the square edge of the board. this form of chamfer is used for ornamental purposes, and is known as a stop chamfer. figure shows a form of chamfer used in planing end-wood. =cleats.=--strips of wood fastened to others to strengthen them; or strips secured to an object for the purpose of supporting a shelf or drawers. e. g. see figs. and ; also descriptions relating to same. =clinching nails.= see page . =corbelled brick.=--several courses (layers) of brick so laid that each projects a little beyond, or comes a little within, the course below. e. g. see corbelled chimney for doll-house, fig. , chapter vi. =corner stone.=--a stone placed in the corner of a foundation. =cornucopiæ.=--the plural for cornucopia; made by rolling paper or other material into the shape of cones or funnels. =countersunk.= see screws on page . =cross-piece.=--a piece that crosses another; a piece fastened in a horizontal or oblique position, and extended from one piece to another. =cross section.= see section. =details.=--the parts of which a thing consists; a detailed drawing is usually a working drawing, showing all the parts of a piece of work, with dimensions marked upon them. =diagonal.=--a strip, board, or heavier piece fastened in an oblique, or slanted, position--used in bracing (see bracing of toboggan platform framework, fig. ); also a line drawn obliquely to another line, several lines, or an object. =diagonally.=--in a diagonal direction. =diameter.=--the distance equal to a straight line passing through the centre of a circle or a circular object, terminated at both ends by the circumference, or the curved surface. =door frame.=--the wooden frame built in a door opening for the door to swing in. for definition of jambs, sill, and head, see window frame. =door-stops.=--wooden strips nailed around the jambs and head of a door frame, for the door to swing against, and to make a tight joint between the door and frame. =dovetail-joint.=--a tongue, undercut so as to make it wedge-shaped (somewhat the shape of a dove's tail), is prepared upon one piece, and a mortise, the shape and size of this tongue, is cut in the other piece for it to set into. e. g. see figs. and , and text on page , chapter xv. =dowelling.=--a process of securing together two edges or faces of a piece of work with pins of wood or metal. holes are bored in the edges or faces of the pieces, and wooden pegs are cut to fit them. these pegs are coated with glue and then driven into place. the edges or faces of the pieces are also covered with glue, and if the pieces have been properly planed so as to fit together perfectly, a tight joint will be obtained when the glue has dried. the work should be clamped until the glue has dried. e. g. see fig. . for nails used as dowels, see fig. . =dowels.=--the pegs or pins used in dowelling. =dressed.=--after lumber has been planed at a mill, it is known as "dressed stuff." a board may be dressed to the proper dimensions, that is, prepared either by sawing, planing, paring, or scraping. =driving home a nail.=--the act of applying the finishing strokes of a hammer upon the head of a nail in driving it into wood (see driving nails, page ). =drop.=--a piece of scenery hung from the gridiron above the stage. e. g. see figs. , , and . =elevation.=--a straight side or end view of an object. e. g. see fig. . =em.=--a square type. used as a unit in measuring type. the letter "m" in type originally had a square end. =en.=--a type half an "em" in width. =end-plate.=--a timber, such as a two-by-four or two-by-six, placed across the tops of the studs in the end of a framework, for the roof rafters or the floor joists above to rest upon. e. g. see fig. . when placed across the studs in the side of a framework it is known as a side-plate. =end-wood.=--wood which has been cut across the grain and shows the ends of the grain upon its surface. e. g. the end of a stick. =equidistant.=--equally distant. =finishing nail.=--a nail with a small head used on surfaces to be exposed, where it is desirable to make as small nail holes as possible. the finishing nail is very handy for all kinds of small work. =fishing.=--an operation where two or more pieces are joined together, end to end, by means of strips (known as fish-plates) nailed or screwed across the joints. it is also known as a fish-joint, and is a common form of splice. e. g. see fig. . =flange.=--a projecting rim such as the edge of a spool. =flush.=--a surface of a board is said to be flush with the surface of another when those boards are so placed together that the two surfaces are even, or extend along the same line or plane. =font.=--an assortment of type of one size and style, including a certain number of each letter in the alphabet (large and small), punctuation marks, and such characters as are necessary in printing. spaces and quads are sold separately. =foundation.=--the base upon which a building rests. usually made of stone, brick, or posts, and placed below the surface of the ground. =gable-end.=--that portion of a wall which extends into the angle formed by a gable or gambrel roof. e. g. see figs. , , , and . =gauge of tracks.=--the distance between the tracks. =grease paint.=--a paint for the purpose of making-up the face in preparation for a circus or entertainment of some sort. prepared of a composition easily removed, and free from injurious substances. =gridiron.=--the framework above the stage from which the scenery drops are suspended. the framework consists of a series of parallel bars resembling a gridiron. =groove.=--a channel or hollow cut in a piece of wood. in a tongued-and-grooved board it is the hollow in which the tongue fits. =halving.= see fig. ; also description on page . this joint is also known as a halved-joint. =hand rail.= see balustrade. =hem.=--the edge of a piece of cloth doubled over and sewed, to strengthen it and prevent the threads from ravelling. =hexagonal.=--six-sided. =horizontal.=--parallel to the horizon. =hornstone.=--a variety of quartz having the appearance of flint, but more brittle. =kerf.=--the opening, or narrow slot, made in sawing. =latch-pocket.= see spring-catch. =lath.=--a strip approximately one and one-half inches wide, three-eighths of an inch thick, and four feet long. nailed across the walls and ceiling of a room upon which to place plaster. =locking-up.=--the process of tightening a form of type so as to hold it together (see description, page ). =longitudinal section.= see section. =making-up.=--painting the face as a disguise or to show expression marks. =mitre.=--the end of a board is mitred when cut off at an angle of forty-five degrees. although applied to other angles, the term mitre is understood to mean a forty-five degree cut, unless otherwise stated (see bench-hook, fig. , and mitre-box, fig. , chapter i; also descriptions of their use). =mitred try-square.=--used for laying off mitres (see figs. and , chapter ii). =mortise.=--a slot or cavity made in a piece of wood to receive the end of another piece. e. g. see figs. , , , chapter xv. bevelled mortise.--a mortise with its bottom or sides bevelled. e. g. see fig. , chapter i. =mould.=--something which serves to give the proper form to an object. e. g. the mould for shaping a canvas canoe, fig. , chapter xv. =newel post.= see balustrade. =notch.=--a hollow cut in anything; a nick; an indentation. to notch.--to cut in small hollows, as to notch a stick. e. g. see fig. , chapter xiv, and fig. , chapter xxvii. =obsidian.=--a form of lava. =on centres.=--in spacing studs or strips of any kind, they are spoken of as being placed a certain number of inches on centres. e. g. twelve inches on centres means that the distance from the centre of one piece to the centre of another is twelve inches. =out of plumb.=--not vertical; not perpendicular to the horizon. =out of square.=--askew; oblique; not true. =parallel.=--lines or objects are parallel to one another when they have the same direction, and all corresponding points are equidistant from one another. =perpendicular.=--vertical; plumb; in an upright position. =perspective.=--a perspective is a drawing showing an object in the form in which it appears to the eye. the lines converge, or approach nearer together, as they go away from the eye, until they finally meet at a point on the horizon, or a line drawn to represent the horizon. e. g. in looking down a railway track the telegraph poles and tracks appear to run together on the line of the horizon. =pica.=--the standard of measurement in printing. a name given to a size of type which measures one-sixth of an inch high (measured from the nicked side to the side opposite); and seventy-two ems (see em) measure one foot. =pie.=--a mixed assortment of type. see page , chapter ix. =pieing type or making pie.=--spilling or mixing up type. =pipe-straps.=--iron straps used mostly by pipe-fitters to fasten gas-piping in place. e. g. see figs. and . =pitch.=--the pitch of a board is the degree to which it has been tilted. =plan.=--a drawing showing a view of an object, looking down upon it, either on top of it (e. g. see figs. and ), or with the upper portion sliced off (e. g. see fig. . this shows a plan of the log-cabin at a level of the door and windows, with the upper portion removed). =plank.=--lumber two inches or more in thickness is known as planks or planking. anything of less thickness is known as boards. =plumb.=--perpendicular; vertical; true. an instrument for determining whether or not an object is plumb (see fig. , chapter i). =proscenium.=--the front portion of a stage. the proscenium arch is the arch or frame extending around the front of the stage of a theatre. =pumice stone.=--a porous rock, of extreme lightness, used for polishing metals; for smoothing the surface of wood; and for smoothing the surface of a coat of paint before applying a second coat (see painting of canvas canoe, page ). =pyrotechnics.=--the art of making fireworks; fireworks; the composition and use of fireworks. =quad.=--an abbreviation for quadrat. a block of type-metal lower than the type, used for filling out lines, and for spacing between lines. a -em quad is two "ems" in width, and a -em quad three "ems" in width. =quartz.=--glassy crystals, having the form of a six-sided prism, terminated at each end by a pyramid. it is colorless, or transparent, when pure, and more or less opaque and in various colors when impure. =quoins.=--the wedges used to tighten or lock-up a form of type. e. g. see figs. and . =rabbet.=--a groove or hollow cut in a piece of work, generally for the purpose of joining it with some other material. e. g. the sides of the bow and stern pieces of the canvas canoe described in chapter xv are rabbeted so the ribbands and the edge of the canvas will fit in them (see figs. and , chapter xv). =radius.=--the distance from the centre of a circle to any point upon its circumference. it equals one-half of the length of the diameter. =rasp.=--a file with coarse teeth, used for working upon wood. =recess.=--a niche in a wall; a space or opening formed by the wall setting in a little way. =reënforce.=--to strengthen; to supply additional strength with strips or braces. =ridge.=--an edge of a roof formed by the meeting of two sloping surfaces. the top edge of a peaked roof. e. g. see fig. , chapter xiv. =ridge-boards.=--the boards fastened along the ridge of a roof to cover the joint. e. g. see fig. , chapter xiv. =right angle.=--an angle of ninety degrees. at right angles.--so as to form a right angle. =rubbing down.=--bringing to a smooth surface by rubbing with sand-paper, emery-paper, or pumice stone. =rustic.=--made of limbs of trees in their natural form. =sagging.=--the bending of a body by its own weight, or by a load placed upon it. =sapling.=--a young tree. =sash.=--the frame which holds the glass of a window. also applied to the frame with the glass in place. =scraping.=--a piece of glass or the blade removed from a plane is used for scraping a piece of work to give it a smoother surface than can be obtained by using a plane upon it. =section.=--a part. =section drawing.=--a drawing made of an object, showing it as it would look if you were to cut it open or split it in two. the portions which would have to be cut through, in such an operation, are shaded in a drawing of this kind. e. g. see fig. , chapter xv; fig. , chapter xxi; and fig. , chapter xxii. a cross section is a section taken through the short way of an object. a longitudinal section is a section taken through the long way of an object. =selvage.=--the selvage of cloth or wire-mesh is the edge which has been so woven as to prevent ravelling. =semicircle.=--half a circle. =set of a saw's teeth.= see page , chapter ii. =setting nails.= see page , chapter ii. =shape it down.=--a term used to imply that the board or piece of work shall be gradually cut down until it approaches its finished form and size. =shooting stick.=--an iron or wooden tool with a head on one end, used to lock-up the quoins in a form of type. e. g. see fig. , chapter ix. =sills.=--the lowest horizontal timbers in a building of any kind on which the structure rests. see also window frame. =sleepers.=--the timbers supporting the lower floor of a building, distinguished from joists by being filled in between with cinders or concrete. e. g. see fig. , chapter xiii. =slip-knot.=--a noose which slips along the line or rope around which it is tied. e. g. see fig. , chapter xvii. =slot.=--a mortise, or hole, with sides square or nearly so. made by boring several holes, and then connecting and squaring them up with a chisel. =space.=--a thin piece of type-metal, lower than the type, used between words, and for spacing out lines. a -em space is a third of an "em" in width, a -em a quarter of an "em" in width, a -em a fifth of an "em," and an -em (known as a hair space) is an eighth of an "em." =spike.=--a twentypenny nail (four inches long) and all lengths greater. see list of sizes on page , chapter ii. to spike a board in place is to fasten it with spikes. =spliced.=--two pieces are spliced when joined together, generally end to end, in such a way that they are held together and act as one piece. e. g. see fig. , chapter xiii, and fishing. =spring-catch.=--a small lock, such as shown in figs. , , and . the latch is operated by a small knob, and is thrown into position by a small spring. the metal socket which is screwed in place for the latch to spring into is known as the latch-pocket. =sprint.=--a short race run at full speed. =squaring lines.=--by squaring lines across a board is meant the operation of drawing lines across a board with a try-square, the head of the try-square being placed against the tried-edge of the board so those lines will be at right angles to that tried-edge. e. g. see fig. , chapter ii. =staple.=--a u-shaped piece of metal, with two sharp points which are driven into wood in the same way as a nail. =stock.=--material; supplies. the brace which holds the bit for boring; the block which holds the blade of a plane (see fig. , chapter ii); the portion of a gun which contains the barrel and trigger. =stops.= see door-stops and window-stops. =strap-hinge.=--a hinge with long arms, or flaps, which extend over a larger area than those of an ordinary hinge, and give it the power of withstanding greater strains. =studs.=--the smaller pieces of timber used in the framework of a building, to which the siding is attached, or to which the laths are nailed. known also as studding. =stuff.=--in carpenter work this term is applied to the different sizes of lumber. e. g. seven-eighths-inch stuff means boards seven-eighths of an inch thick; two-inch-stuff is lumber two inches thick. =stunt.=--originally a slang word used to denote a trick or feat of some sort. it is now generally recognized as a legitimate word. =swivel.=--a fastening with a pivot which allows the object attached to it to revolve without twisting the cord, wire, or chain, by which that object is suspended. e. g. see fig. , chapter xviii; and page . =taper.=--to make gradually smaller in diameter toward one end; to gradually diminish toward a point. =temper.=--steel and iron tools are given their necessary degree of hardness by a process of heating and cooling, known as tempering. too much friction obtained while grinding a tool will destroy this temper, making it necessary to re-temper it. =toe-nailing.= see page . =tongue.=--the projecting edge of a tongued-and-grooved board. a projecting pin cut on a piece of wood to fit a mortise of the same shape cut in another piece of wood. used in making dovetail-joints. e. g. see figs. and , chapter xv. =tongued-and-grooved boards.=--boards with a groove along one edge and a tongue along the opposite edge, so that the tongue of one board will fit in the groove of another, thus forming a fairly tight joint. these boards are known also as matched boards. =trench.=--a ditch; a long channel. =tried-edge of work.= see testing work, page . =trim.=--the wooden casings placed around door and window openings (see figs. , , and , chapter v). to dress a piece of work; to cut; to make smooth. =turnstile.=--a post upon the top of which four horizontal arms are pivoted to revolve, so as to allow but one person to pass at a time (see fig. , chapter xix, and description of construction on page ). =two-by-four.=--a piece two inches thick by four inches wide used for supports and the construction of frameworks. pieces of other dimensions are also known and spoken of by their sizes in inches. e. g. two-by-sixes, two-by-eights, and two-by-tens. =typographical.=--relating or pertaining to typography. =typography.=--the art of setting type. =undercutting.=--as the term implies, the wood is undercut, or cut under, thus making it wedge-or v-shaped. e. g. see fig. , chapter xv; also text on page . =upright.=--an upright is a piece of timber which is perpendicular when in place. =valance.=--a drapery for a couch or bed. e. g. see couch in illustration of a boy's room, chapter v. =vertical.=--perpendicular to the horizon; upright; plumb; straight up and down. =wainscot.=--a lining placed upon the inside walls of a building. it was originally made of oak timbers, known as wainscot, but the term is now applied to any kind of wood, burlap, tapestry, or other material applied in the same manner. as a rule, it extends but part way up a wall, starting at the floor line. =warped.=--twisted out of shape. =washer.=--a ring placed beneath the head of a bolt to give it a broader bearing surface, and thus prevent it from cutting into the surface of the piece of work. it is also placed under a nut to prevent it from working loose. =wedge-shaped.=--v-shaped. =window frame.=--the wooden frame built in the window opening for the sash to fit into. the jambs are the sides of this frame, the sill the bottom piece upon which the jambs rest, and the head the top piece of the frame. e. g. see figs. and , chapter xiii, and fig. , chapter xiv. =window-stops.=--wooden strips nailed around the jambs, head, and sill of a window frame to prevent rain and wind from entering between the sash and its frame. =wing.=--a piece of scenery placed at the side of the stage. e. g. see figs. , , , , and , chapter xxiv. index a advertisements for amateur paper, ; dummy for, . advertisers' dummy, . advertising signs for circus, . amateur journalism, . amateur papers, methods of printing, ; specimens of, , , , , , and group opposite ; character of, ; naming of, ; frequency of publication of, ; size of page of, ; heading for, ; choice of type for, ; cover for, ; binding, ; advertisements for, ; second-class rates for, . andirons for doll-house fire-place, . animals, animated, ; cork, _see_ cork animals. animated animals, . archery, scoring of points in, ; position for shooting in, . arrow-heads, ; indian, . arrow-shafts, ; feathering of, ; indian, . arrows, shingle, . ash-sifter, an, . athletic club, organizing an, . athletic meets, . attendants, circus, . automatic-drill, use of an, . automobiles, clockwork, ; touring-car, ; delivery-wagon, . b back-saw, use of the, . back-yard circus, a, _see_ circus. back-yard club-house, a, _see_ club-house. back-yard toboggan-slide, _see_ toboggan-slide. bailey plane, the, . ballista, the ancient, . balustrades, doll-house, , . barrel-hoop target, . bath-room as a dark-room, a, . batten door, a, for club-house, . battles, mimic, with paper soldiers, . battleships, cardboard, . beams, deck, for canvas canoe, . bean-blower, a magazine, . bedroom as a dark-room, a, . beds, doll-house, ; pine-bough, . bench-hook, how to make a, ; use of a, , . bench-screw, iron and wooden, . bench-stops, . bench-vise, how to make the, . bevel, how to use the, . bevelling, . bilge-keels for canvas canoe, . binding of amateur papers, . "bird's mouth" cut, . bits, a rack for, ; use of, . bit-stock, use of, ; selection of, . blacking-case, a, . blind-nailing, . blockhouse scene, a, . book-shelves, . boring, . bow and arrow, the, . bow, length of, ; the indian's, . bow piece for canvas canoe, . bow-string, the, . box trap, the, . boy about the house, the, . boy's dark-room, a, . boy's printing-shop, a, . boy's room, suggestions for a, ; suitable furnishings for a, . boy's workshop, a, . braces, deck, for canvas canoe, . bread-board, how to make a, . broom and dust-pan rack, a handy, . bullets, cardboard, . bunks for log-cabin, . butt-joint, a, . button-locks for club-house, . c cabinet, a tool-, ; a special tool-, ; a curio-, . cabin, log-, _see_ log-cabin. cages for side show, . calking cracks, . camera, profitable work with a, . camping, pointers for, ; utensils for, ; other necessary articles for, ; provisions for, . camp-table, a, . cannon, danger of store, ; a fire-cracker, ; another toy, . canoe, how to build a canvas, ; materials for, ; putting together framework of, ; canvas covering for framework of, ; painting of, . canvas canoe, _see_ canoe. canvas covering for canoe, . car for toy railway, a simple, ; a gondola, ; a street, ; other cars, . carpenter's carrying-box, a, . carpenter's horses, . carpenter work, advantages of understanding, . carpets for doll-house, . carrying-box, a carpenter's, . case, a blacking-, ; upper and lower type-, ; scheme for laying type-, ; the yankee job-, ; a negative-, . casters for doll-house, . catapult, the ancient, . catch, spring-, for doll-house, ; for stable, ; for club-house, . chain and rattle, a wooden, . chairs, miniature mission, . chamfering, . chariot, a circus, . chase, the type, . _chemistry news_, the, , . chimney, doll-house, , ; log-cabin, . chisels, racks for, ; forms of, ; how to use the firmer-, ; framing-, ; paring with, ; grinding of, . cigar-boxes, preparation of, . cigar-box furniture, _see_ furniture. circus, a back-yard, ; the ancient roman, ; the modern, ; how several boys gave a, ; preparing a back-yard for a, ; ideas for performance of, ; parades, . classifying negatives, ; manila envelopes for, . clinching nails, . clock, a miniature grandfather's, . clockwork automobiles, . clockwork railway, . clockwork tick-tack, a, . clothes, workshop, ; hooks for workshop, . clothes-line reel, a handy, . clown, suit for, ; stunts for, ; slapper for the, . club, organizing an athletic, . club-house, a back-yard, ; drawing plan of, ; staking out, ; material for, . coaming for cockpit, . cockpit, ; coaming for, . colored lights for miniature theatre, . compass-saw, use of the, . composing-rule, a, ; how to use a, . composing-stick, how to use the, . composing type, . coop trap, the, . cork animals, ; a pig, ; a horse, ; the elephant, ; the giraffe, ; a porcupine, ; other animals, . cork toys, ; animals, ; the korka-bird, ; a duck, ; boats, ; furniture, ; a toy log-cabin, . corner, how to fit up a cosey-, . cosey-corner, how to fit up a, ; a doll-house, . couch, a, ; covering of, . countersink, use of the, . cracks, calking, . cross-bar for jump standards, . cross-bow, the ancient, ; new idea for a, . cross-cut saw, use of the, . cupboard, provision, . curio-cabinet, a, ; finishing of, ; catalogue for, . curtain, drop-, . curtains for doll-house, . curves, drawing, . d dark-lantern, a home-made, . dark-room, a boy's, ; a bedroom as a, ; a bath-room as a, ; another scheme for a, . dead fall trap, the, . deck beams for canvas canoe, . deck braces for canvas canoe, . definitions of terms and phrases, . delivery-wagon, a clockwork automobile, ; frame for, ; cardboard sides for, ; the wheels, ; other portions of, ; painting, . desk, how to make a writing-, ; another style of, ; finishing of, . disappearing rope, the, . distribution of type, . divide a board, to, . doll furniture, . doll-house, how to make a, ; the store, ; painting the, ; another style of, ; furnishing the, . door, batten, for club-house, ; log-cabin, . doors, doll-house, , ; trim for, ; stable, . dowelling, . drawing, parallel lines, ; enlarging by squares, ; curves, . draw-knife, use of a, ; how to grind the, . dresser, a doll's, ; a cigar-box, . drill, an automatic-, . driving nails, . drop-curtain, . drops for miniature theatre, , . drying-rack, a, ; another scheme for a, . duck, a cork, . dummy, the advertisers', . dust-pan and broom rack, a handy, . e elastic sling, an, . elephant, a circus, ; tricks for the, ; a cork, . elevator, a doll-house, ; shaft for, ; car of, ; guide-wires for, ; pulleys, chain, and weight for, . enlarging by squares, . enterprise, a winter, . equipment of workshop, ; of printing-shop, ; of dark-room, . f feathering arrow-shafts, . feed-hoist for stable, . feed-troughs for stable, . field scene, a, . figure-four trap, the, . filter for dark-room tank, . fire-cracker cannon, a, . fire-cracker mortar, a, . fire-crackers, firing, from kites, . fire-place, doll-house, ; log-cabin, , . fireworks, danger and cost of making, ; harmless and inexpensive, . firing roman-candles from kites, ; fire-crackers from kites, ; nigger-chasers with cross-bow, . firmer-chisels, use of, . fishing studs, . fish-plates, . floodlights, . floor, back-yard club-house, ; mud, for log-cabin, . floors, doll-house, , , ; finishing of hardwood, . fly-killer, a simple, ; use of the, . folding-bed, a cigar-box, . footlights, . fore-plane, use of the, . form, locking up a, ; overlaying the, ; underlaying the, . fountain pen, a home-made, . fourth of july, suggestions for, ; the first, . frames for scenery drops, . frames, picture-, for a boy's room, . framing-chisels, use of, . franklin, benjamin, . furniture, cork, ; a chair, ; the sofa, ; a tabouret, . furniture, mission, ; chairs, ; settee, ; tables, ; another design for tables, ; side-board, ; a mirror, ; grandfather's clock, ; kitchen furniture, ; beds, ; dresser, ; wash-stand, ; finishing of, . furniture, suitable for a boy's room, ; selection of doll-house, ; doll-, ; metal, ; other cigar-box, ; printer's metal and wooden, . g gable-ends, the doll-house, , ; the stable, . gable roof for doll-house, ; for stable, . galley, a home-made, . gambrel roof for doll-house, . gauge-pins, . gauging with rule and pencil, ; with the marking-gauge, . gig-saw, use of the, . giraffe, a circus, ; looping the hoop on a, ; tricks for the, ; a cork, . goblin-man, the, . gondola car, a, . gouge, use of the, ; how to grind the, . grandfather's clock, a miniature, . _gratz park news_, the, . grinding, the proper method of, . grind-stone, use of the, . gun, a shot-, . guns, ancient, . gunwales for canvas canoe, ; outside, . gymnasium, an outdoor, ; location of, . h halloween, ; ancient superstitions of, ; origin of, . halving, . hammer, selection of, . handling of tools, the proper, . hatchet, paring with a, ; how to grind a, . hinge-lock, the, . hinges, strap-, ; wooden, . hook, how to make a bench-, . hooks, hat and coat, . hoop, looping the, on a giraffe, . horizontal bar, a, . horse, the circus wild, ; the cork, . horses, carpenter's, . house, the boy about the, ; how to make a doll-, ; another doll-, ; a back-yard club-, _see_ club-house. hurdles, . i ideas for a circus performance, . imposing-stone, the, . indian, story of a trapped, . inking the press, . ink-stand and pen-tray, an, . interior scene, an, . j jack-plane, use of the, . japanese lanterns, for decorating circus tent, ; hung from kite-string, . jobbing, ; outfit for, . jocko, . johnstone, mary jane, . jointed figures, ; operation of, . journalism, amateur, . jump standards, a pair of, . justifying, . k keel for canvas canoe, ; bilge-, . keelson for canvas canoe, . kerf, definition of, . kitchen furniture for doll-house, . kites, firing fireworks from, . knife, work to do with a, . knives, how to grind, . korka-bird, the, . l ladder, stable hay-loft, ; toboggan-slide, . _lake high school daily_, the, . lantern, a home-made dark-, . lanterns, japanese, for circus tent, ; hung from kite-string, . latch, wooden, for club-house, ; for log-cabin, . laying out work, ; tools for, . _ledger, the_, . letter, a mysterious, . lightning, how to imitate, . lock, workshop door, ; a hinge-, ; spring-catch for doll-house, ; spring-catch for stable, ; club-house, ; button for club-house, ; for turnstile, . locking up a form, ; quoins, shooting-stick, and key for, . lock-joint, the, . log-cabin, how to build a, ; the pioneer, ; the modern, ; site for, ; design and size of, ; material for, ; staking out, ; furnishings for, ; a toy, . looping the hoop on a giraffe, . m magazine bean-blower, a, . magic pin-wheel, the, . mantel and fire-place, a doll-house, . mantel-shelf for log-cabin, . mark for broad jumping, . marking-gauge, a, ; how to operate a, . materials, receptacles for printing, ; cabinet for dark-room, . mechanical effects for miniature theatre, . mid-ocean scene, a, . mimic battles with paper soldiers, . miniature theatre, a, _see_ theatre. _mirror, the_, , . mirror for doll-house, . mission furniture, doll, _see_ furniture. mitre-box, how to make a, . monkey, make-up for, ; tricks for, ; chariot for, . mortar, a fire-cracker, . mould for canvas canoe, . mysterious letter, a, . n nail-box, how to make a, . nailing, toe-, ; blind-, . nails, driving, ; withdrawing, ; clinching, ; forms of, ; sizes of, . nail-set, the, . negative-case, ; finishing of, . nigger-chasers, firing, with cross-bow, . o ocean scene, an, . office, ticket, . oil-stone, selection of, ; the washita, . oily rags and waste, care of, , . outdoor gymnasium, an, . overlaying a form, . p packing-cases for doll-house, , . paddle, a single, . papering the doll-house, . papers, amateur, _see_ amateur papers. parades, circus, . parallel bars, . parallel lines, to draw, . paring, . partitions, doll-house, , ; stable stall, . pen, a home-made fountain, . penants, college, for cosey-corner, . pen-tray, an ink-stand and, . picture-frame, a proscenium, . picture-frames for a boy's room, . pictures, suitable, for a doll-house, . "pieing," . pig, a cork, . pin-wheel, the magic, . pistol, a toy, ; cardboard bullets for, . plan, drawing, for club-house, . plane, use of the jack-, the fore-, and the smoothing-, ; the stanley, ; the bailey, ; printer's, . plane-iron, how to grind a, ; how to whet a, . planes, choice of, . planing, position for, ; wood with crooked grain, ; end-wood, . plate-lifter, a, . plate-rack, a, ; staining of, . platform for punching-bag, . platform for toboggan-slide, . plough, a snow, . plumb, how to make a, ; how to use a, . points, scoring of, in archery, . pole, a vaulting, . pond, for miniature theatre, . porcupine, a cork, . portieres for doll-house, . posters for a boy's room, . preserving negatives, ; manila envelopes for, . press association, the national amateur, ; the united amateur, ; the interstate amateur, ; the western amateur, ; local amateur, ; advantages of membership in a, . presswork, pointers for, . printing, ; neatness in, . printing-press, starting with a small, ; inking the, . printing-shop, a boy's, ; location of, ; the author's, ; equipment of, . proofs, striking, ; correcting, ; disposing of waste, . proper handling of tools, the, . properties for miniature theatre, . proscenium, a picture-frame, . provision cupboard, . provisions for camping, . punching-bag platform, . punctures in a canvas canoe, to mend, . purchasing tools, advice about, . q quiver, . quoins, . r rabbit snare, . rack, steel-square, ; a broom and dust-pan, ; a plate-, ; a towel-, ; type-case, ; a washing-, ; a drying-, ; another scheme for a drying-, . racks, bit and chisel, ; other tool, . railing for toboggan-slide, . railway, making a toy, ; materials for, ; trolley-line for, ; power for operating, ; tracks for, ; cars for, ; operation of, ; station for, ; a clockwork, . rain, how to imitate, . reel, a clothes-line, . reënforcing runners of sled, . ribbands for canvas canoe, . ridge boards, . ridge pieces for canvas canoe, . ring for a back-yard circus, . ring master, costume for, ; duties of the, . rip-saw, use of the, . roar of cannon, how to imitate, . rocks for seashore scene, . rollers, the proper care of printing, . roman candles, firing, from kites, . roman circus, the, . roof, the gambrel, ; the gable, , ; tar-paper for back-yard club-house, ; log-cabin, ; covering of cabin, . room, suggestions for a boy's, ; suitable furnishings for a boy's, . rope, the disappearing, . rope bar for jump standards, . ruby lantern for dark-room, a home-made, . ruby-light, a, . rule, a composing, . runners for sled, ; reënforcing, . running track, a, . running water for dark-room, . rustic bridges for miniature theatre, . rustic seats, , . s sail-boats, toy cork, . sand-paper block, a, . sash for workshop, ; for back-yard club-house, ; for log-cabin, . saw, use of cross-cut, ; use of rip-, ; difference in teeth of cross-cut and rip-, ; the back-, ; the compass-and gig-, . sawing, the proper manner of, . saws, choice of, ; sharpening of, . scene, an ocean, ; a mid-ocean, ; a seashore, ; a field, ; a blockhouse, ; a street, ; an interior, . scenery, material for, ; frames for, ; drops, , ; wings, , , , ; trees, , ; rustic bridges, ; pond or lake, . scenery, properties, and mechanical effects, . scoring of points in archery, . scraper, a snow, . screw, iron and wooden bench-, . screw-driver, a desirable, . screws, forms of, . seashore scene, a, . seat, a window-, ; rustic, , ; canvas canoe, . seats for a back-yard circus, . second-class matter, . set-piece, a final, . settee, a miniature mission, . sharpening tools, . shelves, workshop, ; book-, . shingle arrows, . shingles for log-cabin, . shooting in archery, position for, . shooting-stick, a printer's, . shooting-torch, a, . shot-gun, a, . shovel, a snow, . side-board, a miniature mission, . side show, the circus, . sieve trap, the, . sifter for ashes, . signs, advertising, for circus, . sink for dark-room, . slapper, the clown's, . sled, a home-made, ; iron runners for, ; reënforcing runners of, . sling, an elastic, . smith, collection of mr. e. h., . smoothing-plane, use of the, . snare, a rabbit, . snow plough, a, . snow scraper, a, . snow shovel, a, . soldiers for miniature theatre, ; standards for, , ; jointed, . specimens of amateur papers, , , , , , and group opposite . spotlights, . spring-board, a, . spring-catch, _see_ catch. sprints, method of starting, . stable, how to build a, ; painting the, . stage, construction of, _see_ theatre. stairways, doll-house, , . stall partitions for stable, . standards, a pair of jump, . stanley plane, the, . station for toy railway, . steel-square, rack for, ; laying out work with the, . steps, front, ; rear, . stern piece for canvas canoe, . stick, composing-, ; the shooting-, . stops, bench-, . street car, a, . street scene, a, . strop, how to make a, ; how to use a, . stropping, . studs, fishing, ; placing of, for club-house, . supplies, receptacles for workshop, ; cabinet for dark-room, . swivel for punching-bag, a, . t table, a miniature mission, ; another design of, ; a camp-, . tank, water, for dark-room, . target, a barrel-hoop, ; a simpler, . tar-paper for club-house roof, . teepee, a paper, . tent for back-yard circus, ; decorating, . tents, paper, . testing work, ways of, . theatre, a miniature, ; framework for, ; the gridiron, ; the stage floor, ; drop-curtain, ; setting up, ; tickets for, ; a war drama for, . thunder, how to imitate, . ticket office, . tickets for circus, ; for miniature theatre, . tick-tack, a new style of, ; a clockwork, . toboggan-slide, a back-yard, ; location of, ; length of, ; material for, . toe-nailing, . tool-cabinet, a, ; for special tools, . tools, purchasing of, ; list from which to select, ; proper handling of, ; lending, ; sharpening, . torch, a shooting-, . touring-car, a clockwork automobile, ; frame for, ; belt for, ; testing the machine, ; cardboard sides of, ; wheels for, ; mud-guards for, ; lamps for, ; steering-wheel for, ; brake for, ; chauffeur for, ; painting, . towel-rack, a, . toy guns, targets, and bows and arrows, . toy railway, making a, _see_ railway. toys, cork, . track, a running, . tracks for toy railway, . trains, cardboard, . trap, the figure-four, ; the box, ; the dead fall, ; the sieve, ; the coop, ; a rabbit snare, ; a twitch-up, . traps, home-made, . trebuchets, ancient, . trees, , ; standards for, ; pine boughs for, . tried-edge, the, . trimmings, of doll-house, outside, ; interior, ; stable, . trolley-line for toy railway, . try-square, testing work with the, ; laying out work with the, ; a mitred-handle, . tumbling-mat, a, . turnstile, a, ; lock for, . twitch-up, a, . tympan, the printing-press, . tympan-sheets, . type, selection of, ; composition of, ; pieing, ; distribution of, ; washing, . type-cases, upper and lower, ; scheme for laying, ; the yankee job, ; rack for, . typesetting, . u underlaying a form, . utensils for camping, . v vaulting, pole for, . vise, how to make a, . w wagons, cardboard, . walls, doll-house, , , ; stable, , ; club-house, . wardrobe, cigar-box, . washing-box, a, ; rack of, ; box of, ; how to use the, . wash-stand, a doll's, . waste and oily rags, care of, , . water, running, for dark-room, ; filter for, . water-tank for dark-room, . waves for ocean scene, . weapons, ancient, . whetstone, selection of, ; the washita, . whetting, the proper way of, . wicks, book by mr. w. s., . wild horse, the circus, . wild man of borneo, the, , . wind, how to imitate, . window, for workshop, ; for back-yard club-house, . windows, doll-house, , ; dormer, ; glass for, ; casement, ; divided glass for, ; stable, ; log-cabin, , . window-seat, a, . wings for miniature theatre, , , , . winter enterprise, a, ; contracting work for, . withdrawing nails, . wooden chain and rattle, . work, laying out, . work to do with a knife, . work-bench, a solid, . workshop, a boy's, ; location of, ; clothes for, . work-table for dark-room, . writing-desk, how to make a, ; another style of, ; finishing of, . y yankee job-case, the, . [transcriber's note: bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.] our little canadian cousin the little cousin series (trade mark) each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates in tint. cloth, mo, with decorative cover, per volume, cents list of titles by mary hazelton wade (unless otherwise indicated) =our little african cousin= =our little alaskan cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little arabian cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little armenian cousin= by constance f. curlewis =our little australian cousin= =our little brazilian cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little brown cousin= =our little canadian cousin= by elizabeth r. macdonald =our little chinese cousin= by isaac taylor headland =our little cuban cousin= =our little dutch cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little egyptian cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little english cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little eskimo cousin= =our little french cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little german cousin= =our little greek cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little hawaiian cousin= =our little hindu cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little indian cousin= =our little irish cousin= =our little italian cousin= =our little japanese cousin= =our little jewish cousin= =our little korean cousin= by h. lee m. pike =our little mexican cousin= by edward c. butler =our little norwegian cousin= =our little panama cousin= by h. lee m. pike =our little philippine cousin= =our little porto rican cousin= =our little russian cousin= =our little scotch cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little siamese cousin= =our little spanish cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little swedish cousin= by claire m. coburn =our little swiss cousin= =our little turkish cousin= l. c. page & company new england building, boston, mass. [illustration: "two children sat on the grass under the lilacs" (_see page _)] our little canadian cousin by elizabeth roberts macdonald _illustrated by_ l. j. bridgman [illustration] boston l. c. page & company _publishers_ _copyright, _ by l. c. page & company (incorporated) _all rights reserved_ published july, fifth impression, june, preface in "our little canadian cousin," my intention has been to tell, in a general way, although with a defined local setting, the story of canadian home life. to canadians, _home life_ means not merely sitting at a huge fireplace, or brewing and baking in a wide country kitchen, or dancing of an evening, or teaching, or sewing; but it means the great outdoor life--sleighing, skating, snow-shoeing, hunting, canoeing, and, above all, "camping out"--the joys that belong to a vast, uncrowded country, where there is "room to play." this wide and beautiful canadian dominion possesses, of course, a great variety of climate and of scenery. to treat at all adequately of those things, or of the country's picturesque and romantic history, would require far more scope than is afforded by this one small story. list of illustrations page "two children sat on the grass under the lilacs" (_see page _) _frontispiece_ fredericton in the government house grounds "the tree-clad shores wore a fairy glamour" "a great bonfire was built" "nothing, dora thought, could be more beautiful than those woods in winter" our little canadian cousin chapter i. it was the very first day of the loveliest month in the year. i suppose every month has its defenders, or, at least, its apologists, but june--june in canada--has surely no need of either. and this particular morning was of the best and brightest. the garden at the back of mr. merrithew's house was sweet with the scent of newly blossomed lilacs, and the freshness of young grass. the light green of the elms was as yet undimmed by the dust of summer, and the air was like the elixir of life. two children sat on the grass under the lilacs, making dandelion chains and talking happily. jack, a little fair-haired boy of six, was noted for his queer speeches and quaint ideas. his sister marjorie was just twice his age, but they were closest chums, and delighted in building all sorts of air-castles together. this afternoon, when she had finished a chain of marvellous length, she leant back against the lilac-trees and said, with a sigh of happiness: "now, jack, let's make plans!" "all right," jack answered, solemnly. "let's plan about going to quebec next winter." "oh, jackie! don't let's plan about winter on the first day of june! there's all the lovely, lovely summer to talk about,--and i know two fine things that are going to happen." "all right!" said jackie again. it was his favourite expression. "i know one of them; daddy told me this morning. it's about cousin dora coming to stay with us." "yes--isn't it good? she's coming for a whole year, while uncle and aunt go out to british columbia,--to make him well, you know." "i wish she was a little boy," said jackie, thoughtfully. "but if she's like you, she'll be all right, margie. what's the other nice thing you know?" "oh, you must try to guess, dear! come up in the summer-house; it's so cosy there, and i'll give you three guesses. it's something that will happen in july or august, and we are _all_ in it, father and mother and you and cousin dora, and a few other people." they strolled up to the vine-covered summer-house, and settled down on its broad seat, while jack cudgelled his brains for an idea as to a possible good time. "is it a picnic?" he asked at last. marjorie laughed. "oh, ever so much better than that," she cried. "try again." "is it--is it--a visit to the seaside?" "no; even better than that." "is it a pony to take us all driving?" "no, no. that's your last guess. shall i tell you?" "ah, yes, please do!" "well,--mother says, if we do well at school till the holidays, and everything turns out right, she and father--will--take us camping!" "camping? camping out? really in tents? oh, good, good!" and jackie, the solemn, was moved to the extent of executing a little dance of glee on the garden path. "camping out" is a favourite way of spending the summer holiday-time among canadians. many, being luxurious in their tastes, build tiny houses and call them camps, but the true and only genuine "camping" is done under canvas, and its devotees care not for other kinds. as our little new brunswickers were talking of all its possible joys, a sweet voice called them from the door of the big brick house. "marjorie! jack! do you want to come for a walk with mother?" there was no hesitation in answering this invitation. the children rushed pell-mell down the garden path, endangering the swaying buds of the long-stemmed lilies on either side. mrs. merrithew stood waiting for them, a tall, plump lady in gray, with quantities of beautiful brown hair. she carried a small basket and trowel, at sight of which the children clapped their hands. "are we going to the woods, mother?" marjorie cried, and "may i take my cart and my spade?" asked jackie. "yes, dearies," mrs. merrithew answered. "we have three hours before tea-time, and saturday wouldn't be much of a holiday without the woods. put on your big hats, and jack can bring his cart and spade, and marjorie can carry the cookies." "oh, please let me haul the cookies in my cart," said jack. "gentlemen shouldn't let ladies carry things, father says,--but margie, you _may_ carry the spade if you want something in your hands very much!" "all right, boy," laughed marjorie. "i certainly do like something in my hands, and a spade will look much more ladylike than a cooky-bag!" the big brick house from which mrs. merrithew and the children set out on their walk stood on one of the back streets of a little new brunswick city,--a very small but beautiful city, built on a wooded point that juts out into the bright waters of the st. john river. of this river the little canadian cousins are justly proud, for, from its source in the wilds of quebec to its outlet on the bay of fundy, it is indeed "a thing of beauty and a joy for ever." our little party soon left the streets, went through a wide green space covered with venerable maples, crossed a tiny stream and a railway track, and entered the woods that almost covered the low hill behind the town. though it was really but one hill, the various roads that subdivided it gave it various names, some derived from the settlements they led to, and some from buildings on the way. it was through the woods of "college hill" that marjorie and jack and their mother wandered. being all good walkers, they were soon back of the fine old college, which stands looking gravely out over the tree-embowered town to the broad blue river. when the delicious green and amber shadows of the woods were reached, little jack at once began to search for fairies. marjorie contented herself with looking for wild flowers, and mrs. merrithew sought for ferns young enough to transplant to her garden. "i am afraid i have left it rather late," she said at last. "they are all rather too well-grown to stand moving. but i will try a few of the smallest. what luck have my chicks had? any fairies, jackie?" jackie lifted a flushed face from its inspection of a tiny hole in the trunk of a fir-tree. "no fairies _yet_, mother; but i think one lives in here, only she won't come out while i am watching." mrs. merrithew smiled sympathetically. she heartily agreed with the writer (though she could not remember who it was) who said: "i always expect to find something wonderful, unheard-of, in a wood." "in olden days," she said, "people believed that there were beautiful wood-spirits, called dryads, who had their homes in trees. they were larger than most fairies, and yet they were a kind of fairy." "please tell more about them, mother," said marjorie, coming up with her hands full of yellow, speckled adder's-tongue. "i know very little more, i am sorry to say," their mother answered, laughing. "like jackie with _his_ fairies, i have always hoped to see one, but never have as yet." "are they good things?" jackie asked, "or would they frighten little boys?" "oh, my dear, they were always said to be kind and beautiful, and rather timid, more apt to be frightened themselves than to frighten any one else. but remember, dears, mother did not say there _were_ such things, but only that people used to think so." "please tell us a story about one, mother," jack pleaded. but mrs. merrithew shook her head. "we will keep the story for some other time," she said. "let us have a cooky now, and a little rest, before we go home." this proposal was readily agreed to. they chose a comfortable spot where a little group of white birches gave them backs on which to lean, opened the precious bag, and were soon well occupied with its crisp and toothsome contents. mrs. merrithew, knowing well that little folk are generally troubled with a wonderful thirst, had also brought a cup and a bottle of lemonade. how doubly delicious things tasted in the clear, spicy air of the woods! by the time jack had disposed of his sixth cooky he felt ready for conversation. "mother," he said, "i wish you would tell us all about dora." "all about dora, dearie? that would take a long time, i expect. but it would _not_ take long to tell you all that i know about her. i have only seen her twice, and on one of those occasions she was a baby a month old, and the next time only two years,--and as she is now, i do not know her at all." "but--oh, you know, mother--tell us about her father and mother, and her home, and everything like that. it makes her more interesting," urged marjorie. mrs. merrithew saw that she was to be beguiled into a story in any case, so she smiled and resigned herself to her fate. "well, my dears, i know a great many things about dora's father, for he is my only brother, and we were together almost constantly until we were both grown up. then your uncle archie, who had studied electrical engineering, went up to montreal, and there secured a good position. he had only been there a short time when he met a very charming young lady" ("_this_ sounds quite like a book-story," marjorie here interposed) "by whom he was greatly attracted. she was partly french, her mother having been a lady of old french family. but her father was an english officer, of the strongest english feelings, so this charming young lady (whose name was denise allingham) combined the characteristics--at least all the best characteristics--of both races. do you know what that means, jackie?" jack nodded, thoughtfully. "i think so, mother. i think it means that she--that young lady--had all the nicenesses of the french and all the goodnesses of the english." "that is just it, my dear, and a very delicate distinction, too," cried his mother, clapping her hands in approval, while jackie beamed with delight. "well, to continue: miss denise allingham, when your uncle archie met her, was an orphan, and not well off. she was teaching in an english family, and not, i think, very happy in her work. she and your uncle had only known each other about a year when they were married." "and lived happily ever after?" marjorie asked. mrs. merrithew considered a moment, then: "yes, i am sure i can say so," she answered. "they have had some business troubles, and a good deal of sickness, but still they have been happy through it all. and they have one dear little daughter, whom they love devotedly, and who is named 'dora denise,' after her mother and--who else?" "you, mother, you," both children exclaimed. "the chief trouble this happy trio has had," mrs. merrithew continued, "has been the delicate health of your uncle. for the last four years he has not been strong. twice they have all three gone away for his health, and now the doctors have ordered him to try the delightful climate of british columbia, and to spend at least a year there if it agrees with him. he needs all his wife's attention this time, and that, my dears, is why little dora denise carman is coming to spend a year with her new brunswick relations. "and now, chicks, look at that slanting, golden light through the trees. that means tea-time, and homeward-bound!" chapter ii. it was a tired and homesick little girl that mr. merrithew helped out of the coach and led up the steps of his house, about a fortnight after our story opens. the journey from montreal had been long and lonely, the parting from her parents hard, and the thought of meeting the unknown relatives had weighed upon her mind and helped to make her unusually subdued. but when the door of the big brick house (which had been named by the neighbours when it was the only brick house on the street, and the largest one in town) opened, and her aunt's motherly arms closed around her, while marjorie's rosy, laughing face and jackie's fair, cherubic one beamed on her in greeting, her spirits began to revive. the greeting was so warm and kind, and the joy at her coming so genuine, that her fatigue seemed turned, as by magic, to a pleasant restfulness, and her homesickness was lost in this bright home atmosphere. mrs. merrithew took the little newcomer to her room, had her trunks settled conveniently, and then left her to prepare for the late tea which was waiting for them all. when dora was ready, she sat down in the little armchair that stood near a table piled with books, and looked about her contentedly. there was an air of solid comfort and cosiness about this house that rested her. this room--which her aunt had told her was just opposite marjorie's--was all furnished in the softest shades of brown and blue, her favourite colours. the carpet was brown, with a very small spray of blue here and there; the wallpaper was lighter, almost creamy, brown, with a dainty harebell pattern, and the curtains had a rich brown background with various persian stripes, in which blue and cream and gold predominated. the bed, to her great delight, had a top-piece, and a canopy of blue-flowered chintz, and the little dressing-table was draped to match it. just over the side of the bed was a book-shelf, quite empty, waiting for her favourite books. while she sat and looked about in admiration, the door was pushed gently open, and a plump maltese kitten came in, gazed at her doubtfully a moment, and then climbed on her lap. then marjorie's bright face appeared at the door, and, "may i come in?" she asked. "oh, please do," dora cried. "kitty has made friends with me already, and i think that must be a good omen." marjorie laughed, as she patted the little bunch of blue-gray fur in dora's lap. "_jackie_ has made friends with you already," she said, "and i think that is a better omen still. he told mother he thought you were 'the beautifulest girl he ever saw.'" dora's eyes opened wide with astonishment. "it is the first time i ever was called beautiful," she said, "let alone 'beautifulest.' what a dear boy jack must be." then they both laughed, and marjorie, obeying one of her sudden impulses, threw her arms around dora's neck and gave her a cousinly hug. "you and i will be friends, too," she said. "i knew it as soon as i looked at you." dora's dark brown eyes looked gravely into marjorie's blue ones. she seemed to be taking the proposition very seriously. "i have always wished for a real friend, or a twin sister," she said, thoughtfully. "the twin sister is an impossibility, and i have never before seen a girl that i wanted for a great, _great_ friend. but you,--ah, yes! you are like my father, and besides, we are cousins, and that makes us understand each other. let us be friends." she held out her hand with a little gesture which reminded marjorie that this pale, dark-haired cousin was the descendant of many french _grandes dames_. she clasped the slender hand with her own plump fingers, and shook it heartily. so, in girlish romance and sudden resolution, the little maids sealed a compact which was never broken, and began a friendship which lasted and grew in beauty and strength all through their lives. at the breakfast-table the next morning there was a merry discussion as to what should be done first to amuse dora. jackie, who had invited her to sit beside him and beamed at her approvingly over his porridge and cream, suggested a walk to his favourite candy-store and the purchase of some sticks of "pure chocolate." marjorie proposed a picnic at old government house. this was approved of, but postponed for a day or two to allow for preparations and invitations. mr. merrithew said "let us go shooting bears," but even jackie did not second this astounding proposition. as usual, it was "mother" who offered the most feasible plan. "suppose, this morning," she said, "you just help dora unpack, and make her thoroughly at home in the house and garden; then this afternoon perhaps your father will take you for a walk, and show dora the house where mrs. ewing lived, and any other interesting places. that would do for to-day, wouldn't it? then, day after to-morrow we could have the picnic; and for the next week i have a magnificent idea, but i want to talk it over with your father," and she nodded and smiled at that gentleman in a way which made him almost as curious as the children. "that's the way with mother," marjorie said to dora after breakfast. "she never ends things up. there is always another lovely plan just ahead, no matter how many you know about already." and mr. merrithew, who overheard the remark, thought that perhaps this was part of the secret of his wife's unfailing youthfulness both in looks and spirits. the walk that afternoon was one which dora always remembered. mr. merrithew had, as jackie said, "the splendidest way of splaining things," and found something of interest to relate about almost every street of the little city. they went through the beautiful cathedral, and he told them how it had been built through the earnest efforts of the well-known and venerated bishop medley, who was afterward metropolitan of canada. then they wandered down the street along the river, and saw the double house where mrs. ewing (whose stories are loved as much in the united states and in canada as they are in england) lived for a time, and where she wrote. [illustration: fredericton] she had called this house "rika dom," which means "river house," and had written in many of her letters of the beautiful river on which it looked, and the gnarled old willows on the bank just in front of her windows. these willows she had often sketched, and dora carried away a spray of the pale gray-green leaves, in memory of her favourite story-writer. it was one of dora's ambitions, kept secret hitherto, but now confided to marjorie, to write stories "something like mrs. ewing's." they saw, too, the picturesque cottage in which a certain quaint old lady had attained to the ripe age of a hundred and six years,--a record of which fredericton was justly proud. this venerable dame had been addicted to the unlimited eating of apples, and her motto--she was not a grammatical old lady!--had been (according to tradition), "apples never hurts nobody." they spent some time in the legislative library, where was enshrined a treasure in the shape of a magnificent copy of audubon's books of birds. then in the departmental buildings, near by, there was a small but well-arranged museum of stuffed birds and beasts, all canadian, and most of them from new brunswick. there were other things, too, to see, and many anecdotes to hear, so that it was a somewhat tired, though happy and hungry party which trudged home just in time for tea. and such a tea, suited to hearty outdoor appetites born of the good canadian air! there were fresh eggs, made into a white and golden omelette by mrs. merrithew's own hands; for even debby, who had cooked for the family all their lives, owned that an omelette like mrs. merrithew's she could not manage,--"no, _sir_, not if i was to cook day and night." there was golden honey in the comb; there was johnny-cake, hot and yellow and melting in your mouth; strawberry jam that tasted almost as good as the fresh fruit itself; ginger-cake, dark and rich and spicy; milk that was almost cream for the children, and steaming fragrant coffee for their elders. "it is rather nice to get _good and hungry_," jackie gravely observed,--"that is, if you have plenty in the house to eat. i think life would be very dull without meals." these philosophical remarks rather astonished dora, who was not yet accustomed to the contrast between jack's sage reflections and his tender years. just now they seemed especially funny, because he was almost falling asleep while he talked. when mrs. merrithew saw him nodding, she rang, and the nurse--who, like debby, was a family institution--came in and carried him off in her stalwart arms, to his little white bed. when his mother stole up a little later to give him a final good-night kiss, she heard susan singing and paused at the door to listen. "now the day is over" was ended, and then a drowsy voice murmured: "now, susan, my very favourite song!" and then susan sang, in her soft, crooning voice "the maple-leaf, the maple-leaf, the maple-leaf for ever!" chapter iii. the day of the picnic was hot, very hot, for june, but that did not discourage the younger picnickers at all. "it will be pretty warm on the river," mr. merrithew remarked, tentatively, as they sat at dinner. the dining-room windows were open, and the soft air, sweet with the scent of lilacs, blew the white curtains into the room with lazy puffs. "it will be so lovely when we get to government house, though," marjorie cried. "there is always a breeze up there, father, and there are plenty of trees, and three summer-houses, and that big veranda. oh, i think it will be perfect." "yes, daddy, i do, too! i think it will be _gorlious_!" said jackie. when, after much hurrying about, telephoning to tardy members of the party, and good-natured discussion as to the arrangement of the canoe-loads, they were at last afloat on the blue, shining river, they all agreed with jack. dora was charmed with the slender milicete canoes. she had seen chiefly canvas and wooden ones. her father, indeed, had owned a bark canoe, but it was of much heavier and broader build than these slim beauties, that glided through the water like fairy craft, impelled this way or that by the slightest turn of the steersman's wrist. [illustration: in the government house grounds] they landed just back of government house, the grounds of which sloped down to the water. the house is a long, stone building, with a broad veranda at the back, and in front nearly covered with virginia creeper. at the time of the picnic it was empty, and in charge of a caretaker, who lived in a small cottage on the grounds. when a suitable spot had been chosen for tea, and the baskets piled close by, mrs. merrithew proposed an excursion through the house, and mr. merrithew went with jackie to procure the key. when he returned, they all trooped merrily up the front steps, and soon were dispersed through the great echoing halls and lofty rooms. most of the grown people of the party had danced here at many a stately ball, for in those days government house had been kept up in the good old-fashioned way. marjorie and jack delighted in hearing their mother tell of her "coming out" at one of these balls, and how she had been so proud of her first train that she had danced without holding it up, which must have been trying for her partners. dora was greatly interested in seeing the room where king edward, then the slim young prince of wales, had slept, on the occasion of his visit to fredericton. when the furniture of government house was auctioned, a few years before our story opens, the pieces from this room, which should have been kept together as of historic interest, were scattered about among various private purchasers. mrs. merrithew described them to dora, who wished she could have seen the great bed, so wide that it was almost square, with its canopy and drapings of rich crimson, and its gilt "prince of wales feathers," and heavy gold cords and tassels. when they came out of the dim, cool house into the warm air, the elders looked apprehensively at the heavy black clouds which had gathered in the west. "that looks ominous," one of the gentlemen said. "there will certainly be thunder before night." thunder! that was marjorie's horror! her round, rosy face grew pale, and she clung tightly to her mother's arm. the men and matrons held a hurried consultation, and decided that the storm was probably not very near, and that it would be safe to wait for tea if they hurried things a little. it would be a terrible disappointment to the children (all, at least, but marjorie!) to be hurried away without "the picnic part of the picnic." so they all bustled about, and in a short time the cloth was spread, and well covered with good things. the fire behaved well, as if knowing the need of haste, and the coffee was soon made, and as delicious as picnic coffee, by some apparent miracle, generally is. by the time the repast was over, the clouds had drawn closer, the air was more sultry, and even the most optimistic admitted that it was high time to start for home. the canoes were quickly loaded, the best canoe-men took the paddles, and soon they were darting swiftly down-river, running a race with the clouds. in spite of their best speed, however, the storm broke before they reached their journey's end. the thunder growled and muttered, a few bright flashes lit up the sultry sky, and just as they landed a tremendous peal caused the most courageous to look grave, while poor marjorie could scarcely breathe from terror. then the rain came, and the pretty muslin dresses and flower-trimmed hats looked very dejected before their wearers were safely housed! still, no one was the worse for that little wetting, marjorie recovered from her fright as soon as she could nestle down in a dark room with her head in her mother's lap, and they all agreed with jackie that it _had_ been "a gorlious time." before the children went to bed mrs. merrithew told them about the plan which she had mentioned two days before, and to which mr. merrithew had heartily consented. he was to take a whole holiday, on thursday of the following week, and drive them all up to the indian village, about thirteen miles above town, to see the corpus christi celebrations. corpus christi, a well-known festival in the roman catholic church, is one which has been chosen by the indians for special celebration. as it comes in june, and that is such a pleasant time for little excursions, many drive to the indian village from fredericton and from the surrounding country, to see the milicetes in their holiday mood. the day being fresh and lovely, with no clouds but tiny white ones in the sky, mr. and mrs. merrithew and the three children set off early on thursday morning. they had a roomy two-seated carriage, and two big brisk, white horses, plenty of wraps and umbrellas in case history should repeat itself with another storm, and an ample basket of dainties. the road, winding along the river-bank most of the the way, was excellent, and the scenery dora thought prettier than any she had seen. the river was smooth as a mirror, reflecting every tree and bush on its banks. little islands, green and tree-crested, were scattered all along its shining length. it was almost time for the service when they reached the picturesque little village which went climbing bravely up its hill to the chapel and priest's house near the top. the horses were taken charge of by a sedate young half-breed, evidently proud of his office as the "priest's man," and our party at once filed into the chapel. a plain enough little structure in itself, to-day it was beautiful with green boughs, ferns, and flowers. the congregation consisted chiefly of indians and half-breeds, with a scattering of interested visitors. most of the natives were clad in gorgeous finery, some of the older ones having really handsome beaded suits and beautifully worked moccasins, while others were grotesque in their queer combination of the clothes of civilization and savagery. the priest, a tall, good-looking man with piercing eyes, sang high mass, and then the procession formed. first came an altar-boy carrying a cross, then six boys with lighted tapers, and two walking backward scattering boughs. these were followed by the priest bearing the host and sheltered by a canopy which four altar-boys carried. these boys were all indians, and the mild well-featured milicete faces had lost their stolidity, and were lit up with an expression of half-mystic adoration. after them came the congregation, bare-headed, and singing as they walked. marjorie and dora clasped hands as they followed, their eyes shining with excitement. they went down the road and entered a schoolhouse not far from the church, where the host was placed in a little tabernacle of green boughs while the service was continued. then the procession re-formed and went back to the church. after they had disbanded, the indians scattered to their houses to prepare for the various other events of the day. mr. and mrs. merrithew and the children were carried off by the priest (whom mr. merrithew knew well) to have dinner with him in his house near the chapel. the children stood a little in awe of him at first, but he was so companionable and kind that they were soon quite at their ease. his mother, who kept house for him, was evidently very proud of her son, and did her best to entertain his visitors worthily. the house was rather bare, but clean as wax and the perfection of neatness, while the repast, spread on the whitest of linen, was excellent, and not without some rather unusual dainties,--such as candied fruits of many colours for the children, and guava jelly brought out especially in mrs. merrithew's honour. after dinner the good father offered to show them through the village, and they set out together on a tour of inspection. all the full-grown indians, the priest told them, were holding a pow-wow in the schoolhouse, for the purpose of electing a chief. "there is no need of my being there this afternoon," he said, in answer to mr. merrithew's inquiry; "but this evening, when they have their feast and their games,--ah, then i will keep my eye on them!" evidently this priest held very parental relations toward his people. the visitors noticed that some boys playing baseball on the green eagerly referred their disputes to him and accepted his word as final. he took them into several of the little wooden houses, all of which, probably in honour of the day, were in splendid order. in one they found twin papooses, brown as autumn beech-leaves, sleeping side by side in a basket of their mother's making. in another a wrinkled old squaw had most dainty moccasins to sell, the milicete slipper-moccasins, with velvet toe-pieces beautifully beaded. mr. merrithew bought a pair for each of his party (himself excepted), letting them choose their own. mrs. merrithew promptly selected a pair with yellow velvet on the toes; dora's choice had crimson, and marjorie's blue, while jackie's tiny pair was adorned with the same colour as his mother's. "you see, mother dear," he said quite seriously, "yours are a _little_ larger, so we won't be mixing them up!" then, being in a gift-making mood, mr. merrithew bought them each a quaint and pretty basket, besides a big substantial scrap-basket for his own study, and handkerchief-cases, gorgeous in pink and green, for susan and debby. the small baskets all had broad bands of the fragrant "sweet hay" which grows on many islands of the st. john, but which very few white people can find. dora was much interested in the milicete women, with their soft voices and kind, quiet faces. she tried to learn some of their words, and won their hearts by singing two or three songs in french, a language which they all understood, though they spoke it in a peculiar patois of their own. the bright summer afternoon went all too quickly. mrs. merrithew was anxious to reach home before too late an hour, so at five o'clock, after tea and cakes, they "reembarked" for the return trip. the horses were fresh, the roads good, the children just pleasantly tired. as they drove on and on through magic sunset light and fragrant summer dusk, dora thought drowsily that this was a day she would always remember, even if she lived to be as old as the dame who ate the innumerable apples. "i will have such lovely things to write to father and mother about," she murmured, in sleepy tones,--and those were the last words she said till the carriage stopped at the door of "the big brick house," and she and jackie were tenderly lifted out and half led, half carried up the steps. then she opened her eyes very wide and looked about her in wonder. "why, i believe i _nearly_ went to sleep for a moment," she said. and even jackie woke up enough to laugh at that! chapter iv. the day before they left for camp, dora received a letter from her mother, telling something of their surroundings and of the beauties of the western land. as the others were keenly interested, she read them many extracts, which even jackie enjoyed. "we are now," her mother wrote, after describing the journey by the great canadian pacific railway, and speaking encouragingly of the invalid's condition, "comfortably settled in victoria--which, as of course you know, dear, is the capital city of british columbia. it is a truly beautiful spot, and the climate is delightful. there are great varieties of climate, we hear, in this maritime province of the west; victoria is supposed to enjoy a very mild and even one, with roses and geraniums blooming outdoors in december, and the cold weather confined almost entirely to parts of january and february. there is another delightful part of the country which we may visit later; it is in one of the valleys which cut across the coast range of mountains. these deep valleys are entirely shut off from the north winds, and freely admit the warm breezes from the coast, while the rays of the sun are concentrated on their steep sides, helping to make, at times, almost tropical weather. we may spend part of next winter there, as it is even drier than victoria, and that is very important for your father. some of our new acquaintances have recommended the southern part of alberta, where the winter is shortened and made almost balmy by the wonderful chinook winds--so named from the chinook indians, who used to occupy that part of the country from which they blow. these west winds, coming from the mountains across the plains, are warm and particularly drying. when they melt the light and infrequent snowfalls of the winter, they also dry the ground almost immediately, so that even the hollows and ravines are free from dampness. your father is greatly interested in these 'warm chinooks,' and we are almost sure to try their effect later. another pleasure to which we look forward, when he grows a little stronger, is a trip by boat along the coast. the fiords of british columbia are said to resemble those of norway, and the whole coast, with its wooded shores, snowy mountain-peaks, and flashing cataracts, is marvellously beautiful." dora went to sleep that night with her mother's letter under her pillow, and dreamt that they were camping out on the shore of a british columbian fiord, when a warm wind came and blew all the tents into little boats, in which they went sailing away to some wonderful country, where no one would ever be sick, and where no winds blew but balmy west ones. she had nearly reached the land, when a soft touch woke her, and she found marjorie's happy face bending over her. "hurry up, dear! hurrah for camp! we want to start by ten at the latest, and it is seven now, and such a perfect day. mother says we can take kitty with us; won't that be fun?" and marjorie was off without waiting for an answer. dora heard her singing, laughing, chatting, as she flashed here and there, helping and hindering in about equal proportions. the whole house was filled with the pleasant bustle of preparation. mr. merrithew was as much of a boy, in the matter of high spirits, as the youngest of the party. mrs. merrithew, blithe and serene, had everything perfectly planned, and engineered the carrying out of the plans with quiet skill. it was she who remembered where everything was, thought of everything that ought to be taken, and saw that every one of the party was properly clad. the party, by the way, was quite a large one, consisting of another whole family (the greys) besides the merrithews, will graham, a young collegian who was a friend of mr. merrithew's, and miss covert, a rather delicate and very quiet little school-teacher whom mrs. merrithew had taken under her wing from sheer kindness, but who proved a charming addition to the party. the greys were six in number: doctor grey, a grave professor; mrs. grey, a tiny, vivacious brunette, who had been mrs. merrithew's "chum" since their schoolgirl days; carl and hugh, twin boys of fourteen; and two girls, edith, just jackie's age, and alice, so much older than the rest that she was "almost grown-up," and marjorie and dora looked upon her with admiring awe. doctor grey, both mammas, susan (who was to do the cooking, as debby did not dare venture on anything so wild as sleeping out-of-doors), jackie, little edith grey, and all the provisions, tents, and bedding, were to go by stage, while mr. merrithew, will graham, and the twins were to divide the charge of three canoes and the four girls. at ten o'clock the big lumbering stage rattled up to the door, and the canoeists saw the others properly packed and waved them a cheerful adieu. then they gathered up paddles, wraps, and lunch-baskets, and hastened gaily off to the boat-house on the river-bank. here the work of embarking was quickly accomplished, and the four slender birches shot out into the stream, turned, and swept upward, propelled against the current by vigorous arms. "please sing, daddy," marjorie begged, and mr. merrithew promptly began an old favourite, but could get no further than the first verse. "in the days when we went gypsying, a long time ago, the lads and lasses in their best were dressed from top to toe--" so far he sang, and then declared that both memory and breath had given out, and that the ladies, who had no work to do, must forthwith provide the music. after a little hesitation and some coaxing from marjorie, dora sang, in a clear, sweet treble, the well-known and much-loved "en roulant ma boule" ("rolling my ball"). then some one started "tenting on the old camp ground," and all, even the paddlers, joined in, the little school-teacher providing a rich alto that took them all by surprise. [illustration: "the tree-clad shores wore a fairy glamour"] the river was deep-blue, reflecting the little clouds that floated in the azure overhead. near the town the river was very broad; as they forged upward, it gradually narrowed, and was thickly studded with islands. they passed government house, left the ruined hermitage behind, and then began to feel that they were at last out of civilization, and nearing the goal of summer quiet that they sought. it was slow work, this paddling against the current, but the time went in a sort of enchanted way; the tree-clad shores wore a fairy glamour, and the islands, where masses of grape-vine and clematis were tangled over the bushes, might have been each the home of an enchanted princess, a dryad, or any of the many "fair forms of old romance." when about five miles had been covered, they heard the rush of water hurrying over shallows and nagging at the rocks. this was what the children delighted to call "the rapids," but old canoemen simply dubbed it "a stretch of swift water." but by whichever name it went, it called for strong and skilful paddling, and mr. merrithew proposed that, before they undertook it, they should land and fortify themselves with lunch. this suggestion met with great favour; the canoes were swiftly beached, and soon a merry little picnic party sat under a clump of gray shore-willows, while sandwiches, tarts, and cakes of many kinds, vanished as if by magic. success to the camp was drunk in lemonade--_not_ ice-cold--and speeches were made that proved the good spirits, if not the oratorical gifts, of the group. they rested here for an hour, for one of the camp mottoes was, "time was made for slaves," and they knew that the ones who had gone on by stage were resting comfortably in a farmhouse, just opposite their destination, till the canoeing party should come to ferry them over. the farmhouse was owned by old friends with whom mrs. merrithew and mrs. grey would be glad to spend a little time, and for jack and edith the whole place would be full of wonders. when it came to actually facing the rapids, dora's heart failed her; her cheeks paled, and her eyes grew very large and dark; but she held on tight to both sides of the canoe, fixed her eyes on marjorie's back, and said not a word. she tried hard not to see the swirling water and the scowling rocks, but no effort could shut out the confused seething noises that made her feel as if nothing in the world was stable or solid. when at last the rush was over, the sounds grew softer, and the triumphant canoemen drew their good craft in to shore, and paused to rest their tired muscles, dora gave a deep sigh of relief. marjorie turned a beaming face to see what ever was the matter. "_frightened_, dear?" she said. "i forgot that you have not had much canoeing. it's too bad." but dora laughed, and the colour came back to her face. "i ought not to mind," she said, "for i have shot the lachine rapids. but i think being in a large boat gives one a feeling of safety. i know i wasn't half so afraid then as i was to-day. it seemed to me there was nothing between me and the dreadful confusion." "shooting the lachine rapids is a great experience," mr. merrithew said. "i must confess i would not like to try those in a canoe, as champlain did! but now, boys, let us set off briskly, or we won't get things comfortable before night." and they did hurry, but for all their speed it was nearly dusk by the time the five white tents were pitched on saunder's island. this was a fairly large island, ringed by a sandy beach from which the ground rose steeply to a green bank on which elms, white birches, and maples stood, with a tangle of raspberry-bushes, and flowering shrubs among them. inside the belt of trees was a broad sweep of rich meadow-land, with here and there a row of feathery elms or a cluster of choke-cherry-trees. toward the upper end of the island stood an old stone house, empty and almost a ruin; not far from this house were two barns, kept in good repair for the storing of the sweet island hay. the tents were pitched about a hundred yards from the house, just inside the tall bordering trees, so that part of the day they would be in the shade. these trees, too, would make ideal places for slinging the numerous hammocks which mrs. merrithew and mrs. grey had brought. dora and marjorie greatly enjoyed watching the speed with which the tent-poles--two stout uprights and a horizontal ridge-pole--were got into position, and the skill with which the white canvas was spread over them and stretched and pegged down and made into a cosy shelter. there was a tiny "a tent" tucked away in the shadiest spot for the provisions, and a large tent in a central position which mr. grey named "rainy-day house," and which was to be used as dining-room and parlour in case of severe rains; then the other three were called respectively, "the chaperons' tent," "the boys' tent," and "the girls' tent." the chaperons' abode was inhabited by mrs. merrithew, mrs. grey, susan, jackie, edith, and the kitten; "the boys' tent" was well filled by mr. merrithew and doctor grey (who insisted on being boys for the occasion), will graham, and the twins; and "the girls' tent" sheltered miss katherine covert, alice grey, marjorie, and dora. the beds were of hay, liberally provided by the friendly farmer,--the owner, by the way, of island, house, and barns. under each bed was spread either a rubber sheet or a piece of table oilcloth, then over the hay a thick gray blanket was laid. there was another thick blanket to wrap around each person, and still another to put over him, or her, as the case might be. in the chaperons' tent only were they more luxurious; there, two large mattresses took the place of the hay, and made a delightfully comfortable couch for three grown-ups and two children. while the tents and beds were being attended to, susan, with a little help from mrs. merrithew, had succeeded in getting tea without waiting for any sort of a fireplace to be constructed. she was rather anxious about the reception of this first meal, as it had been cooked under difficulties. but when she saw the speed with which her fried beans disappeared, and found mrs. grey taking a third cup of tea, her spirits rose, and she decided that campers were thoroughly satisfactory people for whom to cook! after tea was over, and all the dishes were washed, one of the old campers proposed the usual big bonfire, whereby to sit and sing, but every one was too sleepy, and it was unanimously resolved that just this once the delightful evening of song and story must be omitted. hearty "good-nights" were exchanged, and soon each tent for a brief while shone, like that in the "princess," "lamp-lit from the inner,"--to be more absolutely accurate, lantern-lit; but what is a trifle of one word, that it should be allowed to spoil a quotation? then gently, sweetly, silence settled down over the little encampment; silence, save for the soft murmur of the river in its sleep, and sometimes the drowsy chirping of a bird among the branches. chapter v. jack was the first to wake in the delicious stillness of the morning. when his mother opened her eyes a little later, she found him sitting up beside her with a look of delight and wonder on his face. "the river talks in its sleep," he said, leaning over her with shining eyes. "what does it say, jackie-boy?" mrs. merrithew asked. "i don't know the words,--yet," he answered, "but i will some day." "yes, i believe you will, dear," his mother said, with a smile and a sigh, for she firmly believed that her boy, with his vivid imagination and quick apprehension, had the life of a poet before him. just then a shout from the boys' tent proclaimed that the twins were awake; then mr. merrithew's cheery voice was heard, and soon the camp was alive with greetings and laughter. under mr. merrithew's direction (and with his active assistance), a cooking-place was soon made, and a bright fire inviting to preparations for breakfast. the device for cooking consisted of two strong upright sticks with forked tops, and a heavy horizontal pole resting upon them. on this pole two pothooks were fastened, from which hung the pot and kettle, and the fire was kindled under it. then a little circle of flat stones was made for the frying-pan, the pot and kettle were filled with fresh water, and susan's outfit was complete. pending the erection of a "camp wash-stand," and the choice of a safe and suitable bathing-place, faces and hands were washed in the river amid much laughter, and with careful balancing on stones in the shallows. the toilets were barely completed when three toots on the horn announced that breakfast was ready. a long table and benches were among the furniture which doctor grey and mr. merrithew had planned to make; until their construction, they were glad to group themselves, picnic-fashion, around a table-cloth on the ground. the way that breakfast was disposed of showed that the true camp appetites had begun already to assert themselves. porridge and molasses, beans, bacon and eggs, and great piles of brown bread and butter, vanished like smoke. jackie astonished the party (and alarmed his mother) by quietly disposing of a cup of strong coffee, passed to him by mistake, and handing it back to be refilled with the comment that it was "much more satisfyinger than milk." after breakfast they all set to work with enthusiasm to make camp more comfortable. susan washed dishes and arranged the provision tent with housewifely zeal; mrs. merrithew and mrs. grey brought the blankets out, and spread them on the grass to air, drove shingle-nails far up on the tent-poles to hold watches, pin-cushions, and innumerable small but necessary articles, and superintended the stretching of a rope from one pole to another, about a foot from the ridge-pole. this last arrangement proved most useful, all the garments not in use being hung over it, so that the chaperons' tent, at least, was kept in good order. the gentlemen busied themselves in building the promised table and seats. mr. andrews had told them to make use of anything they wanted on his island, so the twins had hunted about till they discovered a pile of boards near one of the barns. these served admirably for the necessary furniture, and after that was finished several cosy seats were made, by degrees, in favourite nooks along the bank. the morning passed with almost incredible swiftness, and even the youngest (and hungriest) of the campers could scarcely believe their ears when the horn blew for dinner. in the afternoon some, bearing cushions and shawls, chose shady spots for a read and a doze; some set off in the canoes for a lazy paddle; and others organized themselves into an exploring party to visit the deserted house. marjorie and dora, miss covert, and will graham formed the latter group. the stone house was a curious structure, with an air of solidity about it even in its neglected and failing condition. it had been built many years before by an englishman, who did not know the river's possibilities in the way of spring freshets. when he found that he had built his house too near the shore, and that april brought water, ice, and debris of many sorts knocking at his doors and battering in his windows, he promptly, if ruefully, abandoned it to time and the elements. it might, long ago, have been so arranged and protected as to make it a very pleasant summer residence, but, instead, it was now used only for a week or two in haying-time, when the haymakers slept and ate in its basement,--for this quaint little house had a basement, with a kitchen, dining-room, and storeroom. our visitors, having gained entrance to the hall by a very ruinous flight of steps and a battered door, descended to the basement first, admired the fireplace in the kitchen, and looked rather askance at the deep pile of straw in the dining-room, where the haymakers had slept. there was a rough table in one corner of the room, and on it some tin cups and plates and a piece of very dry bread. the haying on the island was about half-done; there was a short intermission in the work now, but it was to begin again very soon. they found nothing else of especial interest in the basement, so went to the hall above. here were two good-sized rooms, one on each side of the hall. each had a fine, deep fireplace, and in one were two old-fashioned wooden armchairs and a long table. the windows--two in each room--were narrow and high, and had small panes and deep window-seats. "oh, what fun it would be to play keeping-house here, dora!" marjorie cried. "wouldn't it!" dora answered. "let us, marjorie! let us pretend it is ours, and choose our rooms, and furnish it!" "that will be fine," marjorie answered, fervently, and soon the little girls were deep in a most delightful air-castle. "let us play, too," said will, persuasively, and katherine answered without hesitation: "yes, let us! i feel just like a child here, and could play with a doll if i had one!" "well,--let me see; we will begin by deciding about the rooms," said will. "let us have this for the study,--shall we?--and put the books all along this wall opposite the windows!" and so these two "children of a larger growth" played house with almost as much zest as marjorie and dora,--and greatly to the amusement and delight of the latter couple when they caught a word or two of their murmured conversation. up-stairs were four rather small rooms with sloping ceilings, and in the middle of the house, just over the front door, a dear little room without the slope, and with a dormer-window. "this shall be our boudoir," dora said, as they entered, and then stopped and exclaimed in surprise, for against one wall stood a piano! almost the ghost of a piano, or the skeleton, rather,--at the very best, a piano in the last stage of decrepitude, but still a piano. its rosewood frame had been whittled, chopped, and generally ill-treated, and more than half its yellow keys were gone, but oh, wonder of wonders, some of those remaining gave a thin, unearthly sound when struck! it seemed almost like something alive that had been deserted, and the little group gathered around it with sympathetic exclamations. while they were talking and wondering about it, lively voices proclaimed the approach of the twins. "we won't say anything about our housekeeping play," said dora, hastily, turning to mr. graham, and marjorie loyally added, "except to mother." "all right, if you like," the student agreed, and miss covert quickly added her assent. the twins admired the stone house, the fireplaces, and the piano, but with rather an abstracted manner. soon the cause of their absent-mindedness transpired. mr. merrithew had met some indians that afternoon, when they were out paddling, and had bought a salmon from them. this had led to a conversation about salmon-spearing, and the indians had promised to come the following night, and show them how it was done. they could take one person in each canoe, and mr. merrithew had said that carl and hugh should be the ones. of course they were greatly excited over this prospect, and chattered about it all the way back to the tents. [illustration: "a great bonfire was built"] that evening, when dusk had settled down, a great bonfire was built, and they all sat around it on rugs and shawls, in genuine camp-fashion. first, some of the favourite games were played,--proverbs, "coffee-pot," characters, and then rigmarole, most fascinating of all. rigmarole, be it known, is a tale told "from mouth to mouth," one beginning it and telling till his invention begins to flag or he thinks his time is up, then stopping suddenly and handing it on to his next neighbour. the result is generally a very funny, and sometimes quite exciting, medley. to-night mr. merrithew began the story, and his contribution (wherein figured a dragon, an enchanted princess, and a deaf-and-dumb knight) was so absorbing that there was a general protest when he stopped. but the romancer was quite relentless, and his next neighbour had to continue as best he could. even jackie contributed some startling incidents to the narrative, and when at last mrs. grey ended it with the time-honoured (and just at present, most unfortunately, out-of-fashion!) assurance that they all, even the dragon, "lived happy ever after," there was a burst of laughter and applause. then some one began to sing, and one after another the dear old songs rose through the balmy night. sometimes there were solos, but every now and then a chorus in which all could join. dora sang every french song she knew,--"a la claire fontaine" ("at the clear fountain"), "malbrouck," and "entre paris et saint-denis" ("between paris and st. denis") proving the favourites. mrs. grey, who declared she had not sung for years, ventured on "the canadian boat-song" and "her bright smile haunts me still." at last, when voices began to grow drowsy and the fire burned low, they sang, "the maple-leaf for ever" and "our own canadian home," then rose and joined in the camp-hymn,--"for ever with the lord," with its: "and nightly pitch our moving tents a day's march nearer home." the next day seemed to fly, to every one, at least, but carl and hugh. their hearts were so set on the salmon-spearing that for them the time went slowly enough till night brought the four indians with their torches and spears. doctor grey and mr. merrithew walked along the shore to see what they could of the proceedings, but the rest--and even will--were content to sit around the fire as before. carl sat in the middle of one canoe, and hugh in the other, both greatly excited and both trying to think themselves quite cool. only the steersmen paddled,--the bowmen kneeling erect and watchful, with their spears in readiness. (the salmon-spear is a long ash shaft, with two wooden prongs and a metal barb between them. the spearing of salmon, by the way, is restricted by law to the indians, and any white man who undertakes it is liable to a fine.) sticking up in the bow of each canoe was a torch, made of a roll of birch-bark fastened in the end of a split stick. the red-gold flare of these torches threw a crimson reflection on the dark water, and shone on the yellow sides of the birches, and the intent, dusky faces of the fishermen watching for their prey. slowly, silently, they paddled up the stream, till at last the silvery sides of a magnificent fish gleamed in the red light. then, like a flash, a spear struck down, there was a brief struggle, and the captive lay gasping in the foremost canoe. it was too much for hugh. he had enjoyed with all his boyish heart the beauty and the weirdness of the scene, but the beautiful great fish, with the spear-wound in his back,--well, that was different. he was not sorry that the indians met with no more luck, and was very silent when the others questioned them, on their return, as to the joys of salmon-spearing. when he confided to carl his hatred of the "sport," the latter shook his head doubtfully. "but you will help eat that salmon to-morrow," he said. "well,--perhaps," hugh answered, "but, all the same, it's no fun to see things killed, and i'm not going to if i can help it!" the fortnight of camp life passed like a dream, and it is hard to tell who was most sorry when the day of departure came. dora, who had written a regular diary-letter to her father and mother, and begun one of the stories that were to be like mrs. ewing's, said that never in all her life had she had such a beautiful time. katherine covert, with life-long friends to "remember camp by," and all sorts of happy possibilities in her once gray life, bore the same testimony with more, if more quiet, fervour. mr. merrithew said that he was ten years younger, and jackie opined that, in that case, they must have been living on an enchanted island,--but added, that he was very glad _he_ had not been made ten years younger, like daddy! brown and plump and strong of arm, the campers brought back with them hearty appetites, delightful recollections, and inexhaustible material for dream and plan and castles in the air. many pleasant things were waiting to be done on their return; first and foremost, miss covert had come to live at the big brick house, to teach the children when holiday time should be over, and to be a help generally to mrs. merrithew. also, according to mrs. merrithew's plans, to have a little real home life and happiness,--for katherine had been an orphan since her childhood, and for five years had taught school steadily, although it was work that she did not greatly like, and that kept her in a state of perpetual nervous strain. teaching a few well-bred and considerate children, whom she already loved, would be quite different, and almost entirely a pleasure. chapter vi. in the delightful autumn days that followed, the children, accompanied sometimes by mrs. merrithew, sometimes by katherine, spent much of their time in the woods, and taking long strolls on the country roads. in october the woods were a blaze of colour,--clear gold, scarlet, crimson, coppery brown, and amber. the children brought home great bunches of the brilliant leaves, and some they pressed and varnished, while others katherine dipped in melted wax. they found that the latter way was the best for keeping the colours, but it was rather troublesome to do. they pressed many ferns, also, and, when the frosts became keener, collected numbers of white ferns, delicately lovely. most of these treasures, with baskets full of velvety moss and yards of fairy-like wild vines, were stowed away in a cool storeroom to be used later in the christmas decorations. when the last of october drew near, mrs. merrithew made up her mind to give a little hallow-eve party. she let the children name the friends they wished her to ask, and added a few of her own; then they all busied themselves in preparations, and in making lists of hallow-eve games and tricks. at last came the eventful evening, and with it about thirty merry people, old and young, but chiefly young. all of the greys were there, of course; also mr. will graham, who was taking his last year at college, and who spent most of his spare time at mr. merrithew's. so the whole camping-party met again, and the camp-days, dear and fleeting, came back in vivid pictures to their minds. in the big brick house was a large room known as "the inner kitchen," but used as a kitchen only in the winter. this room mrs. merrithew had given up to the entertainment of the hallow-eve party. it was lighted--chiefly, that is, for a few ordinary lamps helped out the illumination--by lanterns made of hollowed pumpkins. ears of corn hung around the mantel, and a pyramid of rosy apples was piled high upon it. there was a great old-fashioned fireplace here, and a merry fire sparkled behind the gleaming brass andirons. every trick that their hostess's brain could conjure up was tried. those who cared to, bobbed for apples in a tub of water, and some were lucky enough to find five-cent pieces in their russets and pippins. an apple was hung on a string from the middle of a doorway, then set swinging, and two contestants tried which could get the first bite,--and this first bite, gentle reader, is not so easy as you might imagine! a pretty little ring was laid on a mound of flour, and whoever could lift it out between their lips, without breaking down the mound, was to win the ring. this necessitated a great many remouldings of the flour,--but finally the prize was captured by miss covert. a little later, dora noticed it hanging on mr. graham's watch-guard. some of the braver spirits took turns in walking backward down the garden steps, and to the end of the middle path, a looking-glass in one hand and a lamp in the other. what each one saw in the looking-glass, or whether, indeed, they saw anything, was, in most cases, kept a secret, or confided only to the very especial chum! then there were fortunes told by means of cabbages,--a vegetable not usually surrounded with romantic associations. marjorie was the first to try this mode of divination. well-blindfolded, she ventured alone into the garden, and came back soon with a long, lean, straggly cabbage with a great deal of earth attached to its roots. this foretold that her husband would be tall and thin, and very rich! there were many other quaint methods of fortune-telling, most of them derived from scottish sources. after these had been tried, amid much merriment, they played some of the old-fashioned games dear to children everywhere,--blind-man's buff, hunt-the-feather, post-towns, and other favourites. by and by, when the fun began to flag, and one or two little mouths were seen to yawn, a long table was brought in and soon spread with a hearty (but judiciously chosen) hallow-eve supper. when the days began to grow short and bleak, and the evenings long and cosey, the children were thrown more and more upon indoor occupations for their entertainment. it was on one of these bleak days, when a few white flakes were falling in a half-hearted way, and the sky was gray and gloomy, that jackie had a brilliant idea. four of them--katherine, marjorie, dora, and jackie himself--were sitting by the fire in mrs. merrithew's "den," the very cosiest room in the house. mr. merrithew had a den, too, but he called his a study. somehow it looked too much like an office to suit the children very well. most of the volumes on his shelves, too, were clumsy law-books; all the books that any one wanted to read, except the children's own, were in "mother's den." then, one could come to mother's room at any hour of the day or night, while sometimes no one, excepting mrs. merrithew, was admitted to the study. on this particular day katherine was reading "rob roy," and jack building a castle of blocks, while dora dreamed in the window-seat, watching the scanty flakes, and marjorie, on the hearth-rug, tried to teach reluctant kitty grey to beg. now jack had accompanied his mother on the previous sunday to the anniversary service of the sons of england, a well-known patriotic society. he had been greatly impressed by the procession, the hymns, and the sermon, and on coming home had asked his father many questions as to the "why and wherefore" of the society. it was this episode which suggested the bright idea to his active little brain. "aunt kathie," he said,--for miss covert was now a fully accepted adopted aunt,--"why couldn't _we_ form a patriarchal society?" "a _what_, dear?" said kathie, in rather startled tones, laying "rob roy" on the table, for she liked to give her whole mind to jackie's propositions and queries. "a patri--oh, you know what; like the sons of england, you know!" "oh, yes! _patriotic_, dearie; a patriotic society. you know a patriot is one who loves his country. what sort of a patriotic society would you like to have, jack?" "oh, pure canadian, of course! let me see,--we couldn't be the sons of canada, because we are not all sons." "not _quite_ all," murmured dora, with drowsy sarcasm, from the window. "why not children of canada?" suggested kathie. "no, aunt kathie, that would never do at all, for mother and daddy and you must be in it, and you _couldn't_ be called children,--though, of course, you're not so _very_ old," he added, as if fearing he had hurt her feelings. "well," said marjorie, thoughtfully, "how would the maple-leaves, or the beavers, do?" but jackie scorned this suggestion. "_those_ are names that baseball clubs have," he said. "no; i believe 'the sons and daughters of canada' would be the best of all, because everybody is either a son _or_ a daughter, even twins!" this statement, and the name, were accepted with acclamation, and the quartette, entering thoroughly into the spirit of jackie's plan, helped him zealously to put it into execution. they insisted that he should be president, and requested him to choose the other officers. so he made his father and mother the honourable patrons, dora and marjorie vice-presidents, and kathie secretary-treasurer. this office, i may mention, she nobly filled, and also the informal one of general adviser, suggester, and planner. it was she who proposed the twins, alice and edith, as members, and the president gave his consent, though he considered edith rather too young! "for my part," he said, "i should like mr. will graham, if none of you would mind!" no one seemed to mind, so mr. graham's name was added to the list, which katherine was making out beautifully, with gothic capitals in red ink, on her very best paper. her next proposal was a regular course of study in canadian history and literature, and this was enthusiastically received. when mr. and mrs. merrithew came home at tea-time, they found a well-organized "sons and daughters of canada" club, and miss covert already engaged in composing an article on "the beginnings of canadian history,"--with jackie in her mind as an important member of her future audience, and therefore an earnest effort to make it simple in language and clear in construction. all through the winter the club flourished, and indeed for a much longer time. the members met every week, and the history and literature proved so absorbing that the s. a. d. o. c. night came to be looked forward to as eagerly by the older as by the younger sons and daughters. kathie had the gift of making scenes and people of long-past days live before one, and cartier and champlain, la salle and de maisonneuve, and many another hero became the companions of our patriotic students, both waking and in their dreams. the works of canadian poets and novelists began to fill their book-shelves, and pictures of these celebrities to adorn their walls. they had regular weekly meetings, at which there were readings and recitations, and always one short historical sketch. even jack learnt his "piece" each time, and said it with a severe gravity which seemed to defy any one to smile at a mispronunciation! mrs. merrithew designed their badges,--maple-leaf pins in coloured enamel, with a little gilt beaver on each leaf,--and mr. merrithew had them made in montreal. but perhaps the proudest achievement of the club was alice grey's "sons and daughters of canada march," which was played at the opening and closing of every meeting. so much pleasure and profit, many happy evenings, and an ever deeper love for their country, were some of the results of jackie's bright idea. chapter vii. now there came, warming the frosty heart of december, that delightful atmosphere of mystery and expectation which forms one pleasure of the great yule-tide festival. the big brick house seemed particularly full of this happy spirit of the season. there were many mysterious shopping excursions, and much whispering in corners,--a thing not usual in this united family. jackie showed a sudden and severe self-denial in the matter of sticks of pure chocolate, and was soon, therefore, able to proudly flourish a purse containing, he told his mother, "a dollar all but eighty-five cents," saved toward buying his presents for the family. he also spent much time at a little table in his own room, cutting out pictures and pasting them into a scrap-book for a little lame boy of his acquaintance. mrs. merrithew and kathie had each, besides innumerable other matters, a water-colour painting on hand. each picture, strange to say, was of a house. mrs. merrithew's, the big brick house itself, with its trees and vines, was clearly intended for daddy; but for whom, the children wondered, was aunt kathie's? it was a spirited little view of the old stone house on saunder's island; not so pretty a subject as mrs. merrithew's, but set in such a delicate atmosphere of early morning light that even the sombre gray of the stone seemed etherialized and made poetic. while marjorie and dora wondered for whom it was meant, jackie promptly inquired,--but she, his dear aunt kathie, who had never refused to answer question of his before, only laughed and shook her head, and said that every one had secrets at christmas-time. marjorie and dora did not, as was their wont, spend all of their time together, for each was making a present for the other. marjorie was working hard over a portfolio, which she knew was one of the things dora wanted. she had carefully constructed and joined the stiff cardboard covers, and plentifully provided them with blotting-paper, and now she was embroidering the linen cover with autumnal maple-leaves in dora's favourite colour, a rich, vivid red. as for dora, though she had no love for needlework, she was laboriously making a cushion of soft, old-blue felt for marjorie's cosey-corner, working it with a griffin pattern in golden-brown silks. marjorie had a particular fancy for griffins,--partly, perhaps, because a griffin was the chief feature of the family crest. as the long-looked-for day drew nearer, there was other work to do, almost the pleasantest christmas work of all, dora thought,--the making wreaths out of fir and hemlock and fragrant spruce. they worked two or three hours of each day at the decorations for the beautiful little parish church which they all attended, and which, being very small, was much easier than the cathedral or the other large churches to transform into a sweet-smelling tabernacle of green. then they trimmed the big brick house almost from attic to cellar. the drawing-rooms were hung with heavy wreaths, with bunches of red cranberries here and there, making a beautiful contrast to the green. in the other rooms there were boughs over every picture, and autumn leaves, ferns, and dried grasses here and there. mr. merrithew was sure to buy some holly and mistletoe at the florist's on christmas eve, so places of honour were reserved for these two plants, which have become so closely entwined with all our thoughts of christmas and its festivities. the holly would adorn the old oil-painting of mrs. merrithew's great-aunt, lady loveday gostwycke, which hung over the mantelpiece in the front drawing-room. as for the pearly white berries of the mistletoe, they were to hang from the chandelier in the hall, where people might be expected forgetfully to pass beneath them. jackie, who was very useful in breaking twigs for the wreath-making, begged a few fine wreaths as a reward, and carried them off to decorate little lame philip's room. these lengths of aromatic greenery gave the greatest pleasure to the invalid, and scarcely less to his mother, who spent the greater part of her time in that one room. besides all these pleasant doings, there were great things going on in the kitchen. such baking and steaming and frying as debby revelled in! such spicy and savoury odours as pervaded the house when the kitchen door was opened! marjorie and dora liked to help, whenever debby would let them, with these proceedings. it was great fun to shred citron and turn the raisin-stoner, and help chop the mince-meat, in the big kitchen, with its shining tins, and general air of comfort. jackie liked to take a share in the cooking, too, and as he was deborah's pet, he generally got the wherewithal to make a tiny cake or pudding of his own. when it came to the making of the big plum pudding, all the family by turns had to stir it, according to a time-honoured institution. then mr. merrithew would make his expected contribution to its ingredients,--five shining five-cent pieces, to be stirred through the mixture and left to form an element of special interest to the children at the christmas dinner. besides this big pudding, there were always three or four smaller ones (without any silver plums, but very rich and good), for distribution among some of mrs. merrithew's protégés. on christmas day all the old customs were faithfully observed. it was the rule that whoever woke first in the morning should call the others, and on this occasion it was jackie who, as the great clock in the hall struck six, came running from room to room in his moccasin slippers and little blue dressing-gown, shouting "merry christmas, merry christmas," at the top of his voice. every one tumbled out of bed, as in duty bound, and soon a wrappered and slippered group, all exchanging christmas wishes, met in mrs. merrithew's den. here a fire glowed in the grate, and here, too, mysterious and delightful, hung a long row of very fat white pillow-cases! these were hung by long cords from hooks on the curtain-pole. each pillow-case bore a paper with the name of its owner written on it in large letters, and they were arranged in order of age, from jackie up to mr. merrithew. this had been the invariable method of giving the christmas presents in this particular family for as long as any of them could remember. armchairs and sofas were drawn near the fire, and the party grouped themselves comfortably; then mr. merrithew lifted down jackie's pillow-case and laid it beside him, as he sat with his mother in the largest of the chairs. every one looked on with intensest interest while, with shining eyes, and cheeks red with excitement, he opened his parcels, and exclaimed over their contents. truly a fortunate little boy was jack! there were books--the very books he wanted,--games, a top, the dearest little snow-shoes, a great box of blocks,--evidently santa claus knew what a tireless architect this small boy was,--a bugle, drum, and sword, a dainty cup and saucer, a picture for his room, and, too large for the pillow-case, but carefully propped beneath it, a fine sled, all painted in blue and gold and crimson, beautiful to behold! when jackie had looked at every one of his presents, it was marjorie's turn, and she was just as fortunate as her brother. so it went on up the scale, till they had all enjoyed their gifts to the very last of mr. merrithew's, and every box of candy had been sampled. and still aunt kathie's picture of the little stone house had not appeared! when at last, a merry party, they went down to breakfast, deborah and susan came forward with christmas greetings, and thanks for the well-filled pillow-cases which they had found beside their beds. the dining-room in its festal array looked even cheerier than was its wont. by every plate there lay a spray of holly, to be worn during the rest of the day. the breakfast-set was a wonderful one of blue and gold, an heirloom, which was only used on very special occasions. in the centre of the table stood a large pot of white and purple hyacinths in full bloom, the fourth or fifth of mr. merrithew's presents that morning to his wife. at eleven o'clock there was the beautiful christmas service, which all the family attended, with the exception of jackie. he was considered too young to be kept still for so long a time; so he stayed at home with susan, trying all the new toys and having samples read aloud from each new book. kitty grey, decorated with a blue ribbon and a tiny gilt bell, also kept him company, and seemed to take great pleasure in knocking his block castles down with her soft silvery paws. when the churchgoers returned there was lunch; then, for the children, a long, cosey afternoon with their presents. mrs. merrithew and katherine early disappeared into the regions of the kitchen and dining-room, for the six o'clock dinner was to have several guests, and there was much to be arranged and overseen. but by half-past five the whole family was assembled in the big drawing-room, and neither mrs. merrithew nor kathie looked as if they had ever seen the inside of a kitchen. mrs. merrithew wore her loveliest gown, a shimmering silver-gray silk with lace sleeves and fichu, and lilies-of-the-valley at her neck and in her abundant hair. as for katherine, in her fawn-coloured dress with trimmings of yellow beads, and deep yellow roses, jackie said she looked like a fairy lady,--and on the subject of fairies he was an authority. the little girls were in pure white, with sashes of their favourite colours, and the gold and coral necklaces which had been among their gifts; while jackie, in his red velvet suit and broad lace collar, looked not unlike the picture of leonard in "the story of a short life." presently the guests began to arrive. first came miss bell, a second cousin of mr. merrithew's, and the nearest relative he had in fredericton. she was very tall, very thin, quite on the shady side of fifty, and a little deaf. nevertheless, she was decidedly handsome, with her white hair, bright, dark eyes, and beautifully arched brows. she was a great favourite with the children, and always carried some little surprise for them in her pocket. a little later came a widowed aunt of mrs. merrithew's, fair, fat, and frivolous; and a bachelor uncle, who came next in the esteem of the children to cousin sophia bell. two young normal school students, sisters, who were not able to go home for the holidays, soon swelled the party, and last, but not least, came mr. will graham, looking very handsome in his evening clothes. when they went out to dinner jackie escorted cousin sophia, and marjorie overheard him saying, in urgent tones: "i _wish_ that you and uncle bob would come and live with us,--but i _don't_ want aunt fairley; she is too funny all the time!" the christmas dinner was much like other christmas dinners, except that debby's cooking was unsurpassable. after every one had tasted everything, and three of the five-cent pieces had come to light, the chairs were pushed back a little, and while nuts and raisins were being discussed, they had also catches, rounds, and choruses. each person with any pretence to a voice was expected to give one solo at least. jackie, who had a very sweet little voice, sang "god save the king," with great fervour. but the favourite of the evening was the beautiful "under the holly bough," with the words of which they were all familiar. presently, jackie, who had been promised that he should choose his own bedtime that night, was found to be fast asleep with his head on his green-leaf dessert plate, and a bunch of raisins clasped tightly in one hand. he was tenderly carried away, undressed, and tucked into bed, without once opening an eye. as kathie turned to leave him, she picked up one of his best-beloved new books,--"off to fairyland," in blue and gold covers, with daintily coloured pictures,--and laid it beside him for a pleasant waking sight the next morning. down-stairs she found the rest of the party gathered around the fire, telling stories of auld lang syne. as almost every one had been up early that morning, no very lively games seemed to appeal to them; but the children thought no game could be so interesting as these sprightly anecdotes and rose-leaf-scented romances that were being recalled and recounted to-night. "do you remember--" cousin sophia would say; then would follow some entrancing memories, to which mr. and mrs. merrithew, uncle bob, and mrs. fairley would contribute a running comment of "yes, yes! she was a lovely girl!" "he never held up his head after she died!" and so on. then mrs. fairley would hum an old-time waltz, and branch off into reminiscences of balls,--and of one in particular at government house, where she had lost her satin slipper, and the governor's son had brought it to her, and called her cinderella. she put out a satin-shod foot as she talked, and marjorie thought that, though it certainly was tiny, it was not at all a pretty shape, and began to understand why her mother made her wear her boots so loose. about ten, susan brought tea and plum-cake, and when this had been disposed of, they all, according to another time-honoured custom, gathered around the piano, and sang the grand old words that unnumbered thousands of voices had sung that day: "oh, come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant; oh, come ye, oh, come ye to bethlehem! come and behold him born the king of angels; oh, come let us adore him, christ the lord!" [illustration: "nothing, dora thought, could be more beautiful than those woods in winter"] chapter viii. snow-shoeing is one of the national sports of canada, in which most canadians, big and little, are proficient. marjorie and her cousin were no exception to the rule, and jackie proved a very apt pupil. he soon learned to avoid striking one snow-shoe against the other, and fell quickly into that long, easy swing, which makes the snowy miles go by so quickly. sometimes the three children tramped on the broad, frozen river, but that was a cold place when there was any wind, so they generally chose the hill-roads or the woods. nothing, dora thought, could be more beautiful than those woods in winter, with the white drifts around the grayish tree-trunks, the firs and hemlocks rising like green islands out of a snowy sea, and the wonderful tracery of brown boughs against the pale blue of the sky. once, mr. and mrs. merrithew went with them for a moonlight tramp, and that was something never to be forgotten. it was just after a heavy snowfall, and the evergreens were weighed down with a white covering that sparkled and glittered as with innumerable jewels. another favourite amusement was coasting,--not tobogganing, but good, old-fashioned coasting, generally on college hill, but sometimes down the steep bank of the river. coasting parties were frequent, and it was a pretty sight to see the hill dotted with blanket-coated and toqued or tam-o'-shantered figures, and pleasant to hear the merry voices and laughter as the sleds skimmed swiftly down the road. the winters in eastern canada, though cold, are wonderfully bright and clear, and the air is so free from dampness that one does not realize how cold it sometimes becomes, unless one consults the thermometer. canadians, as a rule, spend a great deal of time in the open air in winter as well as summer, and are as hardy a race as can be found anywhere, but when they _are_ indoors they like their houses good and warm,--no half-measures, no chilly passages and draughty bedrooms for them! mr. merrithew did not keep horses, but occasionally he would hire a big three-seated sleigh and take the family for a delightful spin. they would all be warmly wrapped in woollens and furs, and snuggled in buffalo-robes; the bells would jingle merrily, the snow would "skreak" under the horses' feet, and the white world slip by them like a dream. one day, about the middle of february, mrs. merrithew announced, at breakfast, that it was high time for the drive to hemlock point, which mr. merrithew had been promising them all winter. as the latter quite agreed with this idea, they decided to go on the following morning, spend a long day with the friends they always visited there, and return by moonlight. hemlock point was somewhere between ten and twenty miles up-river,--it does not always do to be too exact,--and their friends lived in a quaint old farmhouse, on high ground, well back from the river-bank. that evening, when they sat in the den after lessons were done, marjorie told dora about the good folk who lived there,--an old bachelor farmer, the most kind-hearted and generous of men, but as bashful as a boy; his two unmarried sisters, who managed his house and thought they managed him, but really spoilt him to his heart's content; and an orphan niece, who had lived with them for several years, and who was the only modern element in their lives. she graphically described the old loom, the big and little spinning-wheels, and the egg-shell china, till dora was as anxious as jackie for to-morrow to come. the three-seated sleigh and the prancing horses were at the door of the big brick house by eight the next morning, for the drive would be long and the load heavy, and it was well to be early on the way. the girls and jackie wore their blanket-suits,--dora's and jackie's crimson and marjorie's bright blue,--and mrs. merrithew herself, snugly wrapped in furs, brought a grand supply of extra cloaks and shawls. she was always prepared for any emergency. mr. merrithew said that he never knew her fail to produce pins, rope, a knife, and hammer and nails, if they were needed. but the hammer and nails she repudiated, and said it was twine, not rope, she carried! the sky was a little overcast when they started, but the prospect of a snow-storm did not daunt them in the least. the bells, of which there were a great many on the harness, kept up a musical, silvery accompaniment to the conversation, as the horses swung at a good speed along the level. when the hills began to rise, the pace slackened, and the passengers had a better chance to enjoy the beauties spread on both sides of the road. "but oh, you ought to see it in summer!" marjorie said, when dora praised the varied and lovely landscapes. "there are so many things yet for you to see all around here. you will have to stay two or three years more at least!" but dora laughed at this. "what about all the things there are for you to see in montreal?" she said. "what about the ice palace, and--" "please tell about the ice palace, dora," jack interrupted. "that must be a gorlious sight!" so dora tried to give her cousins some idea of the great palace of glittering ice, and the hundreds of snow-shoers, in bright costumes and carrying torches, gathered together to storm this fairylike fortress. "it must be fine," said marjorie, when the story was done, "but i'd rather storm hemlock point, and get fried chicken and buttermilk as the spoils of war." marjorie, being a tremendous home-girl, generally tried to change the subject if dora made any allusions to a possible visit of marjorie alone to montreal. she could not bear the thought of parting with dora, but to part with mother and daddy and jack would be three times worse! the last part of the road was decidedly hilly, and the horses took such advantage of mr. merrithew's consideration for their feelings, that jackie, lulled by the slow motion and the sound of the bells, fell asleep against his mother's shoulder, and knew no more till he woke on a couch in miss grier's sitting-room. the oldest miss grier--whom every one called miss prudence--was bustling about, helping marjorie and dora off with their things, and giving advice to miss alma, who was hastening to start a fire in the great old-fashioned franklin. miss dean, the niece, was taking off mrs. merrithew's overboots, in spite of her polite protests. jackie's eyes were open for some moments before any one noticed him; then he startled them by saying, in perfectly wide-awake tones: "i think, miss lois dean, you are the very littlest lady in the world!" miss dean, who certainly could not well be smaller and be called grown-up at all, and whose small head was almost weighted down by its mass of light hair, looked at her favourite with twinkling eyes. "never mind, jackie, the best goods are often done up in small parcels; and i'm big enough to hold you on my lap while i tell you stories, which is the main thing, isn't it?" "yes, indeed," jack cried, jumping up to hug her, which resulted in the pretty hair getting loosened from its fastenings and tumbling in wild confusion around the "littlest lady," where she sat on the floor. "now you are a fairy godmother! now you are a fairy godmother!" exclaimed jackie, dancing around her. "then i will put a charm upon you at once," lois said. "no more dancing, no more noise, no more _anything_, until we get the wraps all off and put away; then you and i will go and--fry chicken--and sausages--for dinner!" the last part of the sentence was whispered in jack's ear, and caused him to smile contentedly, and to submit without a murmur to the process of unwrapping. after dinner,--which did great credit to lois and her assistant,--they gathered around the franklin in the sitting-room, with plates of "sops-of-wine" and golden pippins within easy reach, and mr. grier and mr. merrithew talked farming and politics, while miss prudence recounted any episodes of interest that had taken place at or near hemlock point during the past year. mrs. merrithew, who had spent her summers here as a girl, knew every one for miles around, and loved to hear the annals of the neighbourhood, told in miss prudence's picturesque way, with an occasional pithy comment from miss alma. dora sat, taking in with eager eyes the view of hill and intervale, island and ice-bound river; then turning back to the cosey interior, with its home-made carpet, bright curtains, and large bookcase with glass doors. after a little while lois, who saw that the children were growing weary of sitting still, proposed a stroll through the house, to which they gladly consented. katherine asked if she might go with them, and they left "the enchanted circle around the fire," and crossed the hall to the "best parlour,"--which miss prudence always wished to throw open in mrs. merrithew's honour, and which the latter always refused to sit in, because, as she frankly said, it gave her the shivers. this was not on account of any ill-taste in the furnishing, but because it was always kept dark and shut up, and mrs. merrithew said it could not be made cheery all of a sudden. the children, however, loved the long room, and the mysterious feeling it gave them when they first went in, and had to grope their way to the windows, draw back the curtains, and put up the yellow venetian blinds, letting the clear, wintry light into this shadowy domain. this light brought out the rich, dark colours of the carpet, and showed the treasures of chairs and tables that would have made a collector's mouth water. there was a round table of polished mahogany in the centre of the room, a tiny butternut sewing-table in one corner, and against the wall, on opposite sides of the room, two rosewood tables, with quaint carved legs, and feet of shining brass. on the tables lay many curious shells, big lumps of coral, and rare, many-coloured seaweeds,--for there had been a sailor-uncle in the family,--annuals and beauty-books in gorgeous bindings, albums through which the children looked with never-failing delight, work-boxes and portfolios inlaid with mother-of-pearl; almost all the treasures of the family, in fact, laid away here in state, like jean ingelow's dead year, "shut in a sacred gloom." when this room had been inspected and admired, they lowered the blinds, drew the curtains, and left it again to its solitude. the rest of the house was much less awe-inspiring, but it was all delightful. the loom, now seldom or never used, stood in one corner of the kitchen. not far away was the big spinning-wheel. miss dean tried to teach them to spin, and when they found it was not so easy as it looked, gave them a specimen of how it should be done that seemed almost magical. there is, indeed, something that suggests magic about spinning,--the rhythmically stepping figure, the whirling brown wheel, the rolls of wool, changed by a perfectly measured twirl and pull into lengths of snow-white yarn, and the soothing, drowsy hum, the most restful sound that labour can produce. then there was the up-stairs to visit. the chief thing of interest there was the tiny flax-wheel which stood in the upper hall, and which certainly looked, as jack said, as if _it_ ought to belong to a fairy godmother. in the attic, great bunches of herbs hung drying from the rafters, and the air was sweet with the scent of them. there were sage, summer-savoury, sweet marjoram, sweet basil, mint, and many more, with names as fragrant as their leaves. on the floor, near one of the chimneys, was spread a good supply of butternuts, and strings of dried apples stretched from wall to wall at the coolest end of the one big room. "if i lived in this house," dora said, "i would come up here often and write,--try to write, i mean!" "i come up here often and read," miss dean said, with a quick glance of comprehension at the little girl's eager face. "i love it! and sometimes, when i feel another way and it's not too cold, i put up one blind in the best parlour, and sit in there." "i wish you were coming down to sit in mother's den, and read--and talk--and everything!" said marjorie, and the others echoed the wish. "so i am, some time or other," lois answered. "mrs. merrithew has asked me, and now it's just a question of how soon aunt prudence can spare me. that may be next week,--or it may be next winter!" "it may be for years and it may be for ever," dora quoted, laughing, and jackie added, "and then--when you do come--we will make you a son and daughter of canada right away!" the search for the egg-shell china took them back to the sitting-room, where lois begged miss prudence to exhibit this most fragile of her belongings. with natural pride, that lady unlocked a china-closet, and brought out specimens of the beautiful delicate ware which their grandmother had brought over with her from ireland, and of which, in all these years, only three articles had been broken. it certainly was exquisite stuff, delicately thin, of a rich cream-colour, and with gilt lines and tiny wreaths of pink and crimson roses. "i thought we would have them out for tea," miss alma suggested, but mrs. merrithew, with three children, all rather hasty in their movements, to look after, begged her not to think of such a thing. "your white and gold china is pretty enough for any one;" she said, "and, my dear prudence, if you are determined to give us tea after that big dinner, we will have to ask for it soon, or we will be spending most of the night on the road." "dear, dear!" said miss prudence, putting back her treasures tenderly, "it does seem as if you'd been here about half an hour, and i do hate to have you go! but i know how you feel about being out late with the children, and you won't stay all night. come along, alma, let's hustle up some tea, and let lois talk to mrs. merrithew awhile." and "hustle" they certainly did, spreading a board that groaned with the good old-fashioned dainties, for the cooking of which miss prudence was noted throughout the country. then the horses were brought to the door, tossing their heads in haste to be off, wraps were snugly adjusted, good-byes said many times, and they were off. "i believe grier has given these horses nothing but oats all day," mr. merrithew muttered, as the pretty beasts strained and tugged in their anxiety to run down-hill; but when it came to the up-hill stretches, they soon sobered down, and were content with a reasonable pace. warm and cosey, nestled against his mother, jackie soon slept as before; but the others, with rather a reckless disregard of their throats, sang song after song, in spite of the frosty air, and dashed up to the door of the big brick house, at last, to the sound of: "'twas from aunt dinah's quilting party i was seeing nellie home." chapter ix. to invalids, or to the really destitute, canadian winters, clear and bright though they are, may seem unduly long; but for our little canadian cousins, warmly clad, warmly housed, and revelling in the season's healthful sports, the months went by as if on wings. with march, though the winds were strong, the sun began to show his power, and by the middle of the month the sap was running, and the maple-sugar-making had begun. jackie persuaded his father to take him out one morning to the woods, and to help him tap a number of trees. when they went back later and collected the tin cups which they had left under the holes in the trees, they found altogether about a pint of sap. this they took carefully home, and jack persuaded every one to taste it, then boiled the remainder until it thickened a little,--a very little, it is true,--and the family manfully ate it with their muffins for tea, though mrs. merrithew declared that she believed they had tapped any tree they came across, instead of keeping to sugar-maples. toward the end of the month mrs. grey got up a driving-party to one of the sugar-camps, and though it was chiefly for grown people, mrs. merrithew allowed dora and marjorie to go. the drive was long, and rather tiring, as the roads were beginning to get "slumpy," and here and there would come a place where the runners scraped bare ground. but when they reached the camp they were given a hearty welcome, allowed to picnic in the camp-house, and treated to unlimited maple-syrup, sugar, and candy. the process of sugar-making has lost much of its picturesqueness, since the more convenient modern methods have come into use. mrs. grey remembered vividly when there were no camp-houses, with their big furnaces and evaporating pans, and no little metal "spiles" to conduct the sap from the trees to the tins beneath. in those days the spiles, about a foot in length, were made of cedar, leading to wooden troughs,--which, she maintained, gave the juice an added and delicious flavour. but this their host of the sugar-camp would not admit, though he agreed with her that the process of boiling must have been much more interesting to watch when it was done in big cauldrons hung over bonfires in the snowy woods. when the visitors left camp, each one carried a little bark dish (called a "cosseau") of maple-candy, presented by the owner of the camp, and most of them had bought quantities of the delicious fresh sugar. april brought soft breezes, warmer sunshine and melting snow. it seemed to dora that people thought of scarcely anything but the condition of the ice, and the quantity of snow in the woods. then they began to say that there would be a freshet, and debby, who was apt to forebode the worst, announced that the bridges would go this time, sure! mr. merrithew only laughed when marjorie asked him about it, and said that this prophecy had been made every year since the bridges were built, and that there was no more danger this year than any other. but mrs. merrithew, though she could not be said to worry, still quietly decided what things she would carry with her in case of a flight to the hills! the freshet which was talked about so much was, in spite of mr. merrithew's laughter, a remote possibility; certainly not a probability. in his own and mrs. merrithew's youth, it had been so imminent that people actually _had_ gone to the hills. a tremendous jam had been formed a few miles above town; but a few days of hot sun had opened the river farther down, and the danger had passed. since the two bridges, however, had been built, some people thought that there was a chance of the ice jamming above the upper bridge. usually the worst jams were between the islands, not far above town. each day some fresh word was brought in as to the river's condition. "the river st. john is like a sick person, isn't it?" dora said one afternoon. "the first thing every one says in the morning is, 'i wonder how the river is to-day.'" the words were scarcely out of her mouth when mr. merrithew came in hastily, calling out: "come, people, if you want to see the ice go out. the jam by vine island is broken. come quick. it's piling up finely!" in a very few minutes the whole family answered to his summons, and they set out in great excitement to watch their dear river shake off its fetters. they made their way quickly to the wooden bridge, and found a good share of the population of fredericton there assembled. it was truly a sight well worth going to see. below the bridge the dark water was running swiftly, bearing blocks of ice, bits of board, and logs,--indeed, a fine medley of things. but _above_ the bridge! jackie clapped his hands with delight, as he watched the ice, pushed by the masses behind it, throw itself against the mighty stone piers, and break and fall back, while the bridge quivered afresh at each onslaught. it was truly grand to see, and they stayed watching it for more than an hour; stayed till jackie began to shiver, and mrs. merrithew hurried them home. by the next morning the river was rapidly clearing, so that some reckless spirits ventured to cross in boats and canoes, dodging the ice-cakes with skill worthy to be employed in a better cause. in a day or two more the deep whistle of the river-boat was heard; a sound that brings summer near, though not a leaf be on the trees. but it was not until the ice had entirely ceased running, and the river had begun to go down, that really warm weather could begin, for, until then, there was always a chill air from the water. but after that,--ah, then spring came in earnest, with balmy airs and singing birds, pussy-willows, silver gray, beside the brooks, and little waterfalls laughing down the hills. then came the greening fields, the trees throwing deeper shadows, and the mayflowers, pink and pearly and perfect, hiding under their own leaves in damp woodland hollows! the children made many excursions to gather these fragrant blooms, and kept quantities of them in the den until the season was over. it would be hard, mrs. merrithew thought, to find anything more lovely, and to show how thoroughly she appreciated their attention, she made for each child a little mayflower picture in water-colours. in marjorie's the flowers were in a large blue bowl, on a table covered with an old-blue cloth; for jackie she painted them in a dainty shallow basket, just as he had brought them from the woods; and for dora there was a shadowy green bit of the woodland itself, and a few of the braver blossoms just showing among leaves and moss. chapter x. once more the lilacs were in blossom in the garden of the big brick house. the blackbirds called and chuckled in the lofty branches of the elms, and robins hopped about the lawns, seemingly with the express purpose of tantalizing kitty grey. on the lawn, where the hammocks hung, a happy group was gathered. mr. and mrs. merrithew were there, marjorie and dora, katherine and jack, and two others who evidently formed the centre of attraction. of these, one was a tall, thin man, with a frame that must once have been athletic, and a pathetic stoop in the broad shoulders. he sat in a deep armchair, with dora contentedly nestled on his knee. in a hammock near him sat a lady, with a dark, lovely face, beautifully arched brows, and soft eyes, so like dora's that a stranger might have guessed their relationship. mr. carman, though still an invalid, was wonderfully better, and both he and his wife were full of praises of the great, beautiful west, its scenery, its climate, and its possibilities. "i have come to the conclusion," mr. carman said, after an enthusiastic description of a sunset in the rocky mountains, "that it is no wonder we canadians are proud of our country." "then you and aunt denise shall be 'sons and daughters,'" cried jackie, "and you can read a paper about the west at our very next meeting. that _will_ be fine!" and uncle archie and aunt denise were accepted then and there as members of the s. a. d. o. c. the travellers had only arrived the day before, so there was still much to ask and tell; but dora and her parents had already had a long talk as to plans and prospects, and the little girl was radiant with delight over the arrangements that were decided upon. marjorie, who could not help being a little cast down at the prospect of a separation from her cousin, wondered that dora did not seem to mind at all. but when, by and by, they strolled off together to the grape-arbour for a talk, she understood the reason of this cheerfulness. "i want to tell you all about our plans," dora began, as soon as they were seated in their favourite nook. "you see, mother says that dear father, though he is certainly better, won't be able to work for a long, long time. next winter they will probably go to barbadoes, where some friends of mother's are living; and if they do, i am to stay with you _all winter_ again,--if you will have me, marjorie! your mother says _she_ will!" "_have_ you!" marjorie exclaimed. "oh, but i am glad! i don't know what i will do without you all summer, but it is fine to know that at least we will have the winter together." then dora burst into a peal of laughter, and clapped her hands over the news that she had to tell. "oh, i've got the best to tell you yet," she said. "father and mother have quite decided to stay _here_, in fredericton, all summer! they want to rent a furnished house, just as close to this one as they possibly can; and then we will be together almost every minute, just as we are now. _won't_ it be lovely?" marjorie sat quiet for a minute, and thought it over with shining eyes. then she gave dora a regular "bear-hug," and cried: "i feel just like jackie does when he dances a war-dance! i was going to say that it was too good to be true, but mother says she doesn't like that saying, for there is nothing too good to come true sometime, if it isn't already. come and tell jack and aunt kathie, quick! they will be almost as glad as i am!" so these little canadian cousins went hand in hand down the garden-path, full of happy thoughts of the long bright summer days that spread before them. the end. the little cousin series the most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, and adventures. each one vol., mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or more full-page illustrations in color. price per volume $ . _by mary hazelton wade (unless otherwise indicated)_ =our little african cousin our little alaskan cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little arabian cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little armenian cousin= =our little brown cousin our little canadian cousin= by elizabeth r. macdonald =our little chinese cousin= by isaac taylor headland =our little cuban cousin our little dutch cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little english cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little eskimo cousin= =our little french cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little german cousin= =our little hawaiian cousin= =our little hindu cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little indian cousin= =our little irish cousin= =our little italian cousin= =our little japanese cousin= =our little jewish cousin= =our little korean cousin= by h. lee m. pike =our little mexican cousin= by edward c. butler =our little norwegian cousin= =our little panama cousin= by h. lee m. pike =our little philippine cousin= =our little porto rican cousin= =our little russian cousin= =our little scotch cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little siamese cousin= =our little spanish cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little swedish cousin= by claire m. coburn =our little swiss cousin= =our little turkish cousin= the goldenrod library the goldenrod library contains stories which appeal alike both to children and to their parents and guardians. each volume is well illustrated from drawings by competent artists, which, together with their handsomely decorated uniform binding, showing the goldenrod, usually considered the emblem of america, is a feature of their manufacture. each one volume, small mo, illustrated $ . list of titles =aunt nabby's children.= by frances hodges white. =child's dream of a star, the.= by charles dickens. =flight of rosy dawn, the.= by pauline bradford mackie. =findelkind.= by ouida. =fairy of the rhone, the.= by a. comyns carr. =gatty and i.= by frances e. crompton. =helena's wonderworld.= by frances hodges white. =jerry's reward.= by evelyn snead barnett. =la belle nivernaise.= by alphonse daudet. =little king davie.= by nellie hellis. =little peterkin vandike.= by charles stuart pratt. =little professor, the.= by ida horton cash. =peggy's trial.= by mary knight potter. =prince yellowtop.= by kate whiting patch. =provence rose, a.= by ouida. =seventh daughter, a.= by grace wickham curran. =sleeping beauty, the.= by martha baker dunn. =small, small child, a.= by e. livingston prescott. =susanne.= by frances j. delano. =water people, the.= by charles lee sleight. =young archer, the.= by charles e. brimblecom. cosy corner series it is the intention of the publishers that this series shall contain only the very highest and purest literature,--stories that shall not only appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with them in their joys and sorrows. the numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known artists, and each volume has a separate attractive cover design. each vol., mo, cloth $ . _by annie fellows johnston_ =the little colonel.= (trade mark.) the scene of this story is laid in kentucky. its heroine is a small girl, who is known as the little colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school southern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous in the region. =the giant scissors.= this is the story of joyce and of her adventures in france. joyce is a great friend of the little colonel, and in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences of the "house party" and the "holidays." =two little knights of kentucky.= who were the little colonel's neighbors. in this volume the little colonel returns to us like an old friend, but with added grace and charm. she is not, however, the central figure of the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights." =mildred's inheritance.= a delightful little story of a lonely english girl who comes to america and is befriended by a sympathetic american family who are attracted by her beautiful speaking voice. by means of this one gift she is enabled to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one. =cicely and other stories for girls.= the readers of mrs. johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young people. =aunt 'liza's hero and other stories.= a collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys and most girls. =big brother.= a story of two boys. the devotion and care of steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale. =ole mammy's torment.= "ole mammy's torment" has been fitly called "a classic of southern life." it relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. =the story of dago.= in this story mrs. johnston relates the story of dago, a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. dago tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing. =the quilt that jack built.= a pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the course of his life many years after it was accomplished. =flip's islands of providence.= a story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph, well worth the reading. _by edith robinson_ =a little puritan's first christmas.= a story of colonial times in boston, telling how christmas was invented by betty sewall, a typical child of the puritans, aided by her brother sam. =a little daughter of liberty.= the author introduces this story as follows: "one ride is memorable in the early history of the american revolution, the well-known ride of paul revere. equally deserving of commendation is another ride,--the ride of anthony severn,--which was no less historic in its action or memorable in its consequences." =a loyal little maid.= a delightful and interesting story of revolutionary days, in which the child heroine, betsey schuyler, renders important services to george washington. =a little puritan rebel.= this is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the gallant sir harry vane was governor of massachusetts. =a little puritan pioneer.= the scene of this story is laid in the puritan settlement at charlestown. =a little puritan bound girl.= a story of boston in puritan days, which is of great interest to youthful readers. =a little puritan cavalier.= the story of a "little puritan cavalier" who tried with all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead crusaders. =a puritan knight errant.= the story tells of a young lad in colonial times who endeavored to carry out the high ideals of the knights of olden days. _by ouida (louise de la ramée)_ =a dog of flanders:= a christmas story. too well and favorably known to require description. =the nurnberg stove.= this beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price. _by frances margaret fox_ =the little giant's neighbours.= a charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden. =farmer brown and the birds.= a little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best friends. =betty of old mackinaw.= a charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little readers who like stories of "real people." =brother billy.= the story of betty's brother, and some further adventures of betty herself. =mother nature's little ones.= curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors. =how christmas came to the mulvaneys.= a bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. the wonderful never-to-be forgotten christmas that came to them is the climax of a series of exciting incidents. * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious punctuation errors repaired. what shall we do now? [illustration: a pueblo settlement (_frontispiece_)] what shall we do now? _five hundred games and pastimes_ a book of suggestions for children's games and employments by dorothy canfield and others new york frederick a. stokes company publishers copyright, , by frederick a. stokes company _october_, _all rights reserved_ preface this book has been made in the hope that the question which forms its title, "what shall we do now?" may come to be put less frequently. it is so easy for children to ask it, so hard for grown-up persons with many other matters to think about to reply to it satisfactorily. in the following pages, which have something to say concerning most of the situations in which children find themselves, at home or in the country, out of doors or in, alone or in company, a variety of answers will be found. no subject can be said to be exhausted; but the book is perhaps large enough. everything which it contains has been indexed so clearly that a reader ought to be able to find what he wants in a moment. moreover, by way both of supplying any deficiencies and of giving each copy of the book a personal character, an appendix of blank and numbered leaves (with a few spaces in the index) has been added, in which the owner may record such omitted games and employments as he has found good. there are, of course, many fortunate girls and boys who do not require any help whatever, who always know what to do now, and do it. for them some sections of this book may have little value. it is for that greater number of less resourceful children who whenever time is before them really are in need of counsel and hints, that it has been prepared. illustrations full page illustrations a pueblo settlement _frontispiece_ facing page outdoor games for girls outdoor games for boys playing alone in the country the library and furniture from "the house that glue built" a dutch house an esquimau sled indian costumes pets reading illustrations in text page a trussed fowl five dots outlines drawing tricks picture-writing - the last man surveying the ruins of the crystal palace patience card the dancing dwarf bean-bag board rope ring the overhand knot half-hitch figure of eight common bend sailor's knot running noose crossed running noose bowline knot dogshank shuffle-board balancing tricks the glass maker electric dancers daisy chain ivy chain hop-scotch prisoner's base tit-tat-toe - hanging - chinese gambling spanish cup cardboard box beds bead chair a doll's apartments cork arm-chair chestnut chair fancy table match-box bedstead match-box washstand towel rack clothes basket cardboard dolls' house appearance of house when complete dog kennel kitchen table kitchen range kitchen chair screen various pots and pans dining-room table and cloth sideboard sofa arm-chair wooden bedstead wardrobe dressing table washstand rocking-chair towel rack chair child's high chair child's cot walking paper dolls paper mother and child, with clothes for each a paper girl with six changes shadows on the wall a cocked hat paper boats paper darts paper mats paper boxes a dancing man hand dragons a kite flying a kite toy boats - a skipjack a water-cutter games for a party blind man's buff "blind man's buff" is one of the best, oldest, and simplest of games. one player is blindfolded, is turned round two or three times to confuse his ideas as to his position in the room, and is then told to catch whom he can. if he catches some one, yet cannot tell who it is, he must go on again as blind man; but if he can tell who it is, that person is blindfolded instead. where there is a fireplace, or where the furniture has sharp corners, it is rather a good thing for some one not playing to be on the lookout to protect the blind man. sometimes there are two blind men, who add to the fun by occasionally catching each other. but this is rather dangerous. there is also a game called "jinglers" where every one is blind except one player with a bell, whom it is their object to catch. but this is more dangerous still. a good variety of "blind man's buff" is the silent one. directly the man is blindfolded, and before he begins to seek, all the players take up positions in corners, on chairs, or wherever they think most prudent, and there they must stop without making a sound. the task for the blind man is thus not catching the others, but, on finding them, deciding upon who they are. as chuckling or giggling is more likely to tell him than his sense of touch, it is tremendously important to make no noise if you can help it. sometimes this game is played (without any standing on chairs) by a blind man armed with two spoons, with which he feels the features of those whom he runs against. in this case it is practically impossible to avoid laughing. the sensation produced by the bowls of two spoons being passed over the face in the attempt to recognize its owner is overwhelming. french blind man's buff in french "blind man's buff" the hands of the blind man are tied behind his back and his eyes are left uncovered. he has therefore to back on to the players before he can catch them, which increases his difficulties. blind man's wand here the blind man has a stick, one end of which is grasped by the other players in turn. the blind man puts three questions to each player, and his aim is to recognize by the voice who it is that replies. the aim of the players, therefore, is to disguise their voices as much as possible. sometimes, instead of merely asking questions, the blind man instructs the holder of the wand to imitate some animal--a cock or a donkey, for example. steps the player who is blindfolded is first placed in the middle. the others walk from him to various positions all around, carefully measuring the number of steps (long or short) which take them there. the blind man is then told how many steps will bring him to a certain player, and he has to guess the direction toward him, and the length of step. this player, if found, becomes blind man. still pond! no more moving the player who is blindfolded is placed in the middle and all the other players touch him. he counts out loud as rapidly as possible up to ten, during which time the players rush as far away from him as possible. directly he reaches ten he cries out "still pond! no more moving!" and the players must stand perfectly still. he then says "you may have three steps," or any number beyond three which he wishes to give. the players save these steps until he comes dangerously near them and then try and use them to the best possible advantage, to escape. it is not a step if one foot remains in the same place. after a player is caught and identified by the one who is "it" he in turn is blindfolded. shadow buff a sheet is stretched across the room. one player stands on one side, and the rest, who remain on the other, pass one by one between the sheet and the candle which throws their shadows upon it. the aim of the single player is to put right names to the shadows on the sheet, and the aim of the others is, by performing antics, to keep him from recognizing them. if it is not convenient to use both sides of a sheet, the single player may sit on a hassock close to it with his back to the others, while they pass between his hassock and the candle. the donkey's tail a good-sized donkey without a tail is cut out of brown paper and fixed on a screen or on a sheet hung across the room. the tail is cut out separately and a hat-pin is put through that end of it which comes nearest the body. each player in turn then holds the tail by the pin, shuts his eyes honestly, and, advancing to the donkey, pins the tail in what he believes to be the right place. the fun lies in his mistake. the blind feeding the blind this is boisterous and rather messy, but it has many supporters. two players are blindfolded and seated on the floor opposite one another. they are each given a dessert-spoonful of sugar or flour and are told to feed each other. it is well to put a sheet on the floor and to tie a towel or apron round the necks of the players. the fun belongs chiefly to the spectators. deer stalking this is a game in which only two players take part, but it is exciting to watch. both "deer" and "stalker" are blindfolded. they are then placed at opposite ends of a large table, and at a given moment begin to move round it. the stalker's business is, of course, to catch the deer, and the deer's to avoid it; but neither must run out into the room. absolute silence should be kept both by the audience and players, and if felt slippers can be worn by the deer and its stalker, so much the better. blowing out the candle a very funny blind game. a candle is lighted and placed in position about the height of a person's head. a player is then placed a few feet from it, facing it, and, after being blindfolded and turned round three times, is told to take so many paces (however many it may be) and blow the candle out. apple-snapping another amusing blind game to watch is apple-snapping. an apple is hung from a string in the middle of the room about the height of the blind man's head. the blind man's hands are then tied, or he holds them strictly behind him, and he has to bite the apple. the same game can be played without blindfolding, but in that case it requires two players with their hands fixed behind them, each trying to bite the apple. bag and stick a good blind game for a christmas party is "bag and stick." a fair-sized paper bag is filled with candy and hung from a string in the middle of the room. a player is then blindfolded, turned round three times, given a stick, and told he may have one, two, or three shots at the bag, whichever it may be. if he misses it, another one tries, and so on; but if he hits it the bag breaks, the candy covers the floor, and the party scramble for it. puss in the corner each player save one takes a corner. the other, who is the puss, stands in the middle. the game begins by one corner player beckoning to another to change places. their object is to get safely into each other's corner before the cat can. puss's aim is to find a corner unprotected. if she does so, the player who has just left it, or the player who was hoping to be in it, becomes puss, according to whether or not they have crossed on their journey. hunt the slipper the players sit in a circle on the floor, with their knees a little gathered up. one stands in the middle with a slipper, and the game is begun by this one handing the slipper to a player in the circle, with the remark-- cobbler, cobbler, mend my shoe, get it done by half-past two, and then retiring from the circle for a few moments. the player to whom it was handed at once passes it on, so that when the owner of the slipper returns and demands her property again it cannot be found. with the hunt that then sets in the fun begins; the object of every player in the circle being to keep the player in the middle from seeing the slipper, from getting hold of it, or from knowing where it is, as it rapidly travels under the knees of the players here and there in the circle. now and then, if the seeker is badly mystified, the slipper may be tossed across the circle. the player in whose possession it is when at last secured changes place with the one in the middle. other handy things will do quite as well as a slipper, but something fairly large should be chosen, or discovery may take too long; and it ought to be soft in texture, or there may be bruises. the whistle this is partly a trick. a player who does not know the game is put in the middle of the ring, round which a whistle is moving in the way that the slipper moves in "hunt the slipper." the object of the player in the middle is to discover the person who blew the whistle last. meanwhile some one skilfully fixes another whistle on a string to the player's back, and that is the whistle which is really blown. as it must always be behind him when it is blown, nothing but the twitching of the string is likely to help him to discover the blower (and the trick); and in a small circle where every one is moving and laughing it takes some time to notice the twitching at all. he can do little who can't do this this is partly a trick. the leader takes a cane in his left hand, thumps on the floor several times, and passes it to a player saying, "he can do little who can't do this." the player tries to imitate him exactly, but if he takes the cane in his right hand he is wrong, the leader says, "you can do little, you can't do this," and hands the cane to the next player. the game goes on until every one has guessed that it is not the thumps which are to be imitated, but the holding the cane in the left hand. thimble this is a very good game. all the company leave the room save one. he stays behind with a thimble, which he has to place in some position, where, _though it is in sight_, it will be difficult to discover. it may be high or low, on the floor or on the mantelpiece, but it must be visible. the company then return and begin to look for it. as the players find it they sit down, but it is more fun to do this very craftily and not at once, lest a hint be given as to the article's whereabouts. when every one has found it, or when a long enough time has been passed in looking for it, the thimble is hidden again, this time by the player who found it first. the game sounds easy, but it can be very difficult and very exciting, every one at the beginning of each search wishing to be first, and at the end wishing not to be last. players often stand right over the thimble, staring directly at it, and still do not see it. magic music one player goes out. the others then hide something for him to find, or decide upon some simple action for him to perform, such as standing on a chair. when he is called in, one of the company seats herself at the piano and directs his movements by the tone of the music. if he is far from the object hidden the music is very low; as he gets nearer and nearer it becomes louder and louder. hot and cold the same game is played under the name of "hot and cold." in this case the player is directed by words; as he gets nearer and nearer the object he becomes "warm," "hot," "very hot," "burning"; when quite off the scent he is "cold." the jolly miller the one who shall be "it" is decided upon by counting out (see page ), and he takes his place in the middle of the room. the others, arm in arm, walk around him in couples, singing, there was a jolly miller who lived by himself. as the wheel went around he made his wealth; one hand on the hopper and the other on the bag: as the wheel went around he made his grab. at "grab," every one must change partners, and the one in the middle tries to be quick enough to get one himself. if he does, the one left alone must take his place in the middle and be the "jolly miller." going to jerusalem some one sits at the piano, and a long row of chairs is made down the middle of the room, either back to back, or back and front alternately. there must be one chair fewer than the number of players. when all is ready the music begins and the players march round the chairs in a long line. suddenly the music stops, and directly it does so every one tries to sit down. as there is one player too many some one must necessarily be left without a chair. that player has therefore to leave the game, another chair is taken away, and the music begins again. so on to the end, a chair and a player going after each round. the winner of the game is the one who, when only one chair is left, gets it. it is against the rules to move the chairs. a piano, it ought to be pointed out, is not absolutely necessary. any form of music will do; or if there is no instrument some one may sing, or read aloud. but a piano is best, and the pianist ought now and then to pretend to stop, because this makes it more exciting for the players. stir the mash this is another variety of "going to jerusalem." the chairs are placed against the wall in a row, one fewer than the players. one of the players sits down in the middle of the room with a stick and pretends to be stirring a bowl of mash with it, while the others march round crying, "stir the mash, stir the mash." suddenly the player with the stick knocks three times on the floor, which is the signal for running for the chairs, and, leaping up, runs for them too. the one who does not get a chair has to stir the mash next. caterpillar a circle of chairs is made, and all the players but one sit on them. this player stands in the middle and his chair is left empty. the game consists in his efforts to sit down in the empty chair and the others' attempts to stop him by continually moving one way or the other, so that the empty chair may this moment be on one side of the ring and the next on the other. honey-pots this is a game for several little players and two stronger ones. the little ones are the honey-pots, and the others the honey-seller and honey-buyer. the honey-pots sit in a row with their knees gathered up and their hands locked together under them. the honey-buyer comes to look at them, asking the honey-seller how much they are and how much they weigh; and these two take hold of the pots by the arms, one on each side, and weigh them by swinging them up and down (that is why the hands have to be tightly locked under the knees). then the buyer says he will have them, and the seller and he carry them to the other end of the room together. once there the seller returns, but quickly comes running back in alarm because he has missed his own little girl (or boy), and he fancies she must be in one of the honey-pots. the buyer assures him that he is mistaken, and tells him to taste them and see for himself that they are only honey. so the seller goes from one to the other, placing his hand on their heads and pretending to taste honey, until at last, coming to the one he has marked down, he exclaims, "dear me, this tastes just like my little girl." at these words the little girl in question jumps up and runs away, and all the other honey-pots run away too. nuts in may the players stand in two rows, facing each other and holding hands. a line is drawn on the carpet (or ground) between them. one row then step toward the other, singing-- here we come gathering nuts in may, nuts in may, nuts in may, here we come gathering nuts in may, on a cold and frosty morning. they then fall back and the other row advance to them singing in reply-- pray, who will you gather for nuts in may, nuts in may, nuts in may? pray, who will you gather for nuts in may, on a cold and frosty morning? the first row, after settling on the particular player on the opposite side that they want, reply thus-- we'll gather phyllis for nuts in may, nuts in may, nuts in may, we'll gather phyllis for nuts in may, on a cold and frosty morning. the other row then ask-- pray, who will you send to fetch her away, fetch her away, fetch her away? pray, who will you send to fetch her away, on a cold and frosty morning? the answer perhaps is-- we're sending arthur to fetch her away, fetch her away, fetch her away, we're sending arthur to fetch her away, on a cold and frosty morning. arthur then steps up to the line on one side and phyllis on the other, and each tries to pull the other over it. the one that loses has to join the other row, and the singing begins again. old soldier all the players, except one, stand in a line. the other, who is the old soldier, then totters up to the end player, saying-- here comes an old soldier from botany bay; pray, what have you got to give him to-day? the player must then say what she will give him, but in doing so must not use the words "yes," "no," "black," "white" or "scarlet." the old soldier's object is to try and coax one of these words out of her, and he may ask any question he likes in order to do so. a mistake usually means a forfeit. my lady's clothes a color-barred game for girls is "my lady's clothes" or "dressing the lady." the players first decide on what colors shall be forbidden, perhaps blue, black, and pink. the first one then asks the next, "how shall my lady be dressed for the ball?" and the answer must contain no mention of these colors. this question goes round the ring, no article being allowed to be mentioned twice. here i bake one player stands in the middle. the others join hands and surround her, their aim being to prevent her from getting out of the ring. she then passes round the ring touching the hands, at the first hands saying "here i bake," at the second "here i brew," at the third "here i make my wedding-cake," and at the next "and here i mean to break through." with these last words she makes a dash to carry out the threat. if she succeeds, the player whose hand gave way first takes her place in the middle. otherwise she must persevere until the ring is broken. the cobbler the cobbler sits in the middle on a stool or hassock, and the others join hands and dance round him. "now then, customers," says the cobbler, "let me try on your shoes," and at the same time--but without leaving his seat--makes a dash for some one's feet. the aim of the others is to avoid being caught. whoever is caught becomes cobbler. cushion the name of this game dates from the period when stiff cylinder-shaped horsehair sofa-cushions were commoner than they are now. one of these is placed in the middle of the room and the players join hands and dance round it, the object of each one being to make one of his neighbors knock the cushion over and to avoid knocking it over himself. whoever does knock it down leaves the ring, until at last there are only two striving with each other. a hearth-brush, if it can be persuaded to stand up, makes a good substitute for a cushion. it also makes the game more difficult, being so very sensitive to touch. the day's shopping the players sit in a ring, and the game is begun by one saying to the next, "i've just come back from shopping." "yes," is the reply, "and what have you bought?" the first speaker has then to name some article which, without leaving her seat, she can touch, such as a pair of boots, a necktie, a watch-chain, a bracelet. having done so, the next player takes up the character of the shopper, and so on round the ring. no article must, however, be named twice, which means that when the game has gone on for a round or two the answers become very difficult to find. clap in, clap out half the players go out, and the others stay in and arrange the chairs in a line so that there is an empty one next to every person. each then chooses which of the others he will have to occupy the adjoining chair, and when this is settled some one tells the outside party that they can begin. one of them then comes in and takes the chair for which he thinks it most likely that he has been chosen. if he is right, everybody claps and he stays there. but if wrong, everybody hisses and he has to go out again. another player then comes in, and so on until all the chairs are filled. neighbors an extension of this game is "neighbors." in "neighbors" half the company are blindfolded, and are seated with an empty chair on the right hand of each. at a given signal all the other players occupy these empty chairs, as mysteriously as they can, and straightway begin to sing, either all to a tune played on the piano or independently. the object of the blind players is to find out, entirely by the use of the ear, who it is that is seated on their right. those that guess correctly are unbandaged, and their places are taken by the players whose names they guessed. the others continue blindfolded until they guess rightly. one guess only is allowed each time. oranges and lemons, or london bridge is falling down this pleasant old game begins by two of the older or taller players--one being oranges and the other lemons--taking places opposite each other and joining their hands high, thus making an arch for the rest to pass under in a long line. the procession then starts, each one holding the one in front by the coat or dress. as the procession moves along, the two players forming the arch repeat or chant these lines:-- "oranges and lemons," say the bells of st. clement's. "you owe me five farthings," say the bells of st. martin's. "when will you pay me?" say the bells of old bailey. "when i grow rich," say the bells of shoreditch. "when will that be?" say the bells of stepney. "i do not know," says the great bell of bow. here comes a candle to light you to bed, and here comes a chopper to chop off the last man's head. with these final words the arch-players lower their arms and catch the head of the last of the procession. in order that the arrival of the end of the procession and the end of the verses shall come together, the last line can be lengthened like this-- and here comes a chopper to chop off the last--last--last--last man's head. another shorter verse which is often sung is, london bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down, london bridge is falling down. my fair lady. in this case the two players who make the arch with their arms can choose any eatables they like--"ice cream" and "oysters." the players who are caught are asked which they prefer and their places are back of the one representing their choice. the captured player is then asked in a whisper which he will be, oranges or lemons? and if he says oranges, is placed accordingly behind that one of his capturers who is to have the oranges on his side. the procession and the rhyme begin again, and so on until all are caught and are ranged on their respective sides. then a handkerchief is placed on the floor between the captains of the oranges and the lemons, and both sides pull, as in the "tug of war" (page ), until one side is pulled over the handkerchief. general post the players sit round the room in a large circle, and, after appointing a postmaster to write down their names and call out the changes, choose each a town. one player is then blindfolded and placed in the middle. the game begins when the postmaster calls out the first journey, thus, "the post is going from putney to hongkong." the player who has chosen putney and the player who has chosen hongkong must then change places without being caught by the blind man, or without letting him get into either of their chairs first. otherwise the player who is caught, or who ought to be in that chair, becomes the blind man. every now and then "general post" is called, when all the players have to change seats at the same time; and this gives the blind man an excellent chance. spin the platter a tin plate, to serve as platter, is placed in the middle of the room. the players sit round it in a large circle, each choosing either a number by which to be known, or the name of a town. the game is begun by one player taking up the plate, spinning it, calling out a number or town belonging to another, and hurrying back to his place. the one called has to spring up and reach the plate before it falls, and, giving it a fresh spin, call some one else. so it goes on. on paper there seems to be little in it, but in actual play the game is good on account of the difficulty of quite realizing that it is one's own borrowed name that has been called. kitchen utensils this is a variety of "spin the platter." the players sit in a ring and choose each the name of some kitchen utensil or something used in cooking, such as meat-chopper or raisins. one player then goes in the middle with a bunched-up handkerchief, and this he throws at some one, at the same time trying to say the name of that some one's kitchen utensil three times before that some one can say it once. if, as very often happens, the player at whom the handkerchief is thrown is so completely bewildered as to have lost the power of speech or memory until it is too late, he must change places with the one in the middle. up jenkins the players sit on opposite sides of a table, or in two opposite rows of chairs with a cloth spread over their laps. a quarter or dime or other small object is then passed about among the hands of one of the sides under the table or cloth. at the word "up jenkins!" called by the other side all these hands tightly clenched must be at once placed in view on the table or the cloth. the first player on the other side then carefully scans the faces of his opponents to see if any one bears an expression which seems to betray his possession of the quarter, and, having made up his mind, reaches over and touches the hand in which he hopes the quarter is, saying, "tip it." the hand is then opened. if the guess is right the guessing side take the quarter and hide it. if wrong, the same side hide it again, and the second player on the guessing side tries his luck at discovering its whereabouts. a score is decided on before the game begins, and the winning side is that which make the fewest number of wrong guesses. another way to play "up jenkins" is to have the players, equally divided, sit opposite each other at a table. a quarter is then passed along under the table by one side or team. at the command "up jenkins," given by the captain of the other side, chosen beforehand, all the players on the side having the coin must lift their hands above the table; and at the command "down jenkins," also given by the captain, all the hands must be brought down flat on the table. the greater the bang with which this is done, the less chance of detecting the sound of the metal striking the table. the captain then orders the players to raise their hands one by one, his object being to leave the coin in the last hand. if he succeeds, his side takes the coin; if he fails, the other side score the number of hands still left on the table, and again hide the coin. another person then becomes captain. if the coin can be "spotted" in a certain hand, either by sight or sound, before a hand has been removed, it has to be forfeited, and the side that wins it adds double the number of hands of the other side to their score. if it is "spotted" and is not in that hand, the side still retains the coin, and also score double the number of hands. if anybody obeys any one else but the captain, in raising, lowering or removing his hands, his side loses the coin, no matter who holds it, but neither side scores. hunt the ring all the players but one form a circle, with their hands on a piece of string on which a ring has been threaded. the other player stands in the middle of the circle. the ring is then hurried up and down the string from end to end, the object being to keep its whereabouts hidden from the other player. lady queen anne in this game, which is usually played by girls, one player hides her eyes, while the others, who are sitting in a row, pass a ball from one to another until it is settled who shall keep it. this done, they all hide their hands in their laps, as if each one had it; and the other player is called, her aim being to discover in whose hands the ball is hidden. she examines the faces of the others very closely until she makes up her mind which one probably has the ball, and then addresses that one thus-- lady queen anne, she sits in the sun, as fair as a lily, as brown as a bun, she sends you three letters and prays you'll read one. to this the player replies-- i cannot read one unless i read all; and the seeker answers-- then pray, miss [whatever the name is], deliver the ball. if the ball really is with this player, the seeker and she change places, but otherwise the seeker hides her eyes again and the ball changes hands (or not). and so on until it is found. another way is for sides to be taken, one consisting of queen anne and her maids and the other of gipsies. the gipsies have the ball first, and, having hidden it, they advance in a line toward queen anne, each holding up her skirts as if the ball were there, singing-- lady queen anne, she sits in the sun, as fair as a lily, as brown as a bun. king john has sent you letters three, and begs you'll read one unto me. lady queen anne and her maids reply-- we cannot read one unless we read all, so pray, miss [whatever the name of the player chosen may be], deliver the ball. if they have hit upon the right player she goes over to queen anne's side. but if not, the gipsies sing-- the ball is mine, it is not thine, so you, proud queen, sit still on your throne, while we poor gipsies go and come. they then turn round and hide the ball again. the feather a very exhausting game. the players sit round a table and form sides, one half against the other, and a little fluffy feather is placed in the middle. the aim of each side is to blow the feather so that it settles in the other camp, and to keep it from settling in their own. the same game can be played with a marble on a table from which the table-cloth has been removed. in this case you all sink your faces to the level of the table. russian scandal, or "gossip" the players sit in a long line or ring. the first, turning to the second, whispers very rapidly some remark or a brief story. the second, who may hear it distinctly, but probably does not, then whispers it as exactly as he can to the third player; and so on until the line is finished. the last player then whispers it to the first player; and the first player repeats his original remark to the company, and follows it with the form in which it has just reached him. advertisements all the players sit in a ring, except one, who stands in the middle holding a soft cushion. this he throws at any one of the players and begins to count ten. the person at whom the cushion was thrown must call out the words of a well-known advertisement before ten is reached. if he fails he must pay a forfeit. judge and jury the players, or jury, form up in two rows facing each other. the judge sits at one end, or passes between the two lines, and asks his questions. these may be of any description. perhaps he will say, "miss a, do you think it will rain to-morrow?" now although the judge addresses miss a and looks at her, it is not she who must answer but the player opposite to her. and he in his answer is not allowed to say either "yes," "no," "black," "white," or "gray." if the player who was addressed answers she becomes judge and the judge takes her seat; or if the opposite player does not answer before the judge has counted ten he becomes judge and the judge takes his seat. cross questions the players sit in a circle, and the game begins by one player turning to the next and asking a question. perhaps it will be, "did you get very wet this evening?" the answer may be, "fortunately i had a mackintosh." the second player then asks the third, and so on round the circle until it comes to the first player's turn to be asked a question by the last one. perhaps this question will be, "i hope your cousin is better?" all these questions and answers have to be very carefully remembered, because on the circle being complete each player in turn has to repeat the question which was put to her and the answer which she received to the question which she herself put. thus in the present instance the first player would announce that the question was, "i hope your cousin is better?" and the answer, "fortunately i had a mackintosh." another variety of cross question is played as follows. the company is divided into two parts, and stand facing each other. a leader is chosen for each side, one to give the questions and one to give the answers. one goes down his side giving to each player in a whisper some serious question which he must ask of his opposite in the other line. the other leader whispers to each of his players an absurd answer. then the play begins. the first in line asks his opponent his question and receives the absurd answer three times. if either of them smile he is put out of the game. the person who can keep a straight face to the last, wins the prize. after the whole line has asked and answered the first set of questions, the first couple become the leaders, and propound two other sets of questions and answers. and so on until only two are left. ruth and jacob one player has his eyes blinded and stands in a circle made by the other players. they dance silently around him until he points at one, who must then enter the circle and try to avoid being caught by the blind man. the pursuer calls out from time to time "ruth!" to which the pursued must always answer at once "jacob!" at the same time trying to dodge quickly enough to escape the other's immediate rush to the spot. after the "ruth" is caught, the "jacob" must guess who it is and if he guesses right, the "ruth" is blindfolded and becomes the "jacob," and the game begins anew. fly away! the player who is chosen as leader sits down and places the first finger of her right hand on her knee. the others crowd round her and also place the first finger of their right hands on her knee, close to hers. the game is for the leader to raise her finger suddenly, saying, "fly away [something]." if that something is not capable of flight the other fingers must not move, but if it can fly they must rise also. thus, "fly away, thrush!" "fly away, pigeon!" "fly away, butterfly!" should cause all the fingers to spring up. but of "fly away, omnibus!" "fly away, cat!" "fly away, pig!" no notice should be taken. the game is, of course, to catch players napping. hold fast! let go! this is a very confusing game of contraries for five players. four of them hold each the corner of a handkerchief. the other, who stands by to give orders, then shouts either "let go!" or "hold fast!" when "let go!" is called, the handkerchief must be held as firmly as ever; but when "hold fast!" it must be dropped. the commands should be given quickly and now and then repeated to add to the anxiety of the other players. the sergeant in this game one player represents a sergeant and the others are soldiers whom he is drilling. when he makes an action and says "do this" the others have to imitate him; but if he says "do that" they must take no notice. simon says thumbs up the players sit about on the floor or on chairs, each holding out on his knee his clenched fist with the thumb sticking straight up. one player calls out "simon says thumbs down." all the thumbs must be instantly reversed. then he tries to confuse them by alternating between up and down for some time until they all get into the way of expecting the change, and then he gives the same order twice in succession. those who make a mistake pay a forfeit. if he calls out simply "thumbs up" or "thumbs down" no attention must be paid to this order as a forfeit is taken. the orders are sometimes varied by the command "simon says wig-wag!" when all the thumbs must be waggled to and fro. the grand mufti a somewhat similar game of contraries is "the grand mufti." the player personating the grand mufti stands in the middle or on a chair, and performs whatever action he likes with his hands, arms, head, and legs. with each movement he says, "thus does the grand mufti," or, "so does the grand mufti." when it is "thus does the grand mufti" the other players must imitate his movement; but when it is "so does the grand mufti" they must take no notice. any mistakes may lead to forfeits. the mandarins there is no contrariness about "the mandarins." the players sit in a circle, and the game is begun by one of them remarking to the next, "my ship has come home from china." the answer is "yes, and what has it brought?" the first player replies, "a fan," and begins to fan herself with her right hand. all the players must copy her. the second player then turns to the third (all still fanning) and remarks, "my ship has come home from china." "yes, and what has it brought?" "two fans." all the players then fan themselves with both hands. the third player, to the fourth (all still fanning), "my ship has come home from china." "yes, and what has it brought?" "three fans." all the players then add a nodding head to their other movements. and so on, until when "nine fans" is reached, heads, eyes, mouth, hands, feet and body are all moving. the answers and movements of this game may be varied. thus the second answer to the question "and what has it brought" might be "a bicycle," when the feet of all the players would have to move as if working pedals; the third answer could be a "snuff-box," which should set all the players sneezing; and so on. a typewriter, a piano, a barrel-organ, a football, would vary the game. buff this test of self-control is rather a favorite; but it is not so much a game as a means of distributing forfeits. the players sit in a circle. one then stands up and, holding out a stick, repeats these lines-- buff says buff to all his men, and i say buff to you again. buff never laughs, buff never smiles, in spite of all your cunning wiles, but carries his face with a very good grace, and passes his stick to the very next place. this must be said without laughing or smiling. each player in turn holds the stick and repeats the verses, those that laugh or smile having, when it is over, to pay a forfeit. the ditto game this is another game in which laughter is forbidden. the players sit close together in a silent circle. whatever the leader does the others have to do, but without smile or sound. perhaps the leader will begin by pulling the next player's hair, and pass on to pat her cheek, or prod her sides, or pinch her nose. statues another trial of composure. the players choose what positions they will and become as still and as silent as statues. one player is judge. it is his business to try and make the statues laugh. all who laugh pay forfeits; but the one who keeps his face grave longest becomes "judge." laughter "laughter" is just the opposite. the company sit in a circle and the game is begun by one throwing a handkerchief into the air. immediately this is done every one must begin to laugh and continue to laugh until the handkerchief touches the ground. they must then stop or leave the circle. gradually all will leave but one, who must then perform by himself, if he is willing. the concerted sneeze one third of the company agree to say "hish" all together at a given signal, another third agree to say "hash," and the rest agree to say "hosh." the word of command is then given, and the result is the sound as of a tremendous sneeze. bingo in "bingo" the players begin by joining hands and marching round, singing-- there was a farmer had a dog his name was bobby bingo o. b, i, n, g, o, b, i, n, g, o, b, i, n, g, o, and bingo was his name o! the players then loose hands, the girls go inside the ring and stand there, and the boys run round them singing the rhyme again. then the boys go inside and the girls run round them and sing it. and then hands are taken once more and all go round in the original circle singing it a fourth time. if no boys are playing, the girls should arrange, before the game begins, which shall personate them. robin's alive a good game for the fireside is "robin's alive." there are so few children nowadays who have fireplaces that this can be modified so that it is a good evening game for any quiet group of children. some one lights a piece of twisted paper or a stick of wood, twirls it rapidly in the air to keep it burning and says, as fast as he can, robin's alive, and alive he shall be if he dies in my hand you may back-saddle me, and at once passes the paper on to the next player who in turn recites the verse. the one in whose hand it finally goes out is "back-saddled" in this way. he lies down on the floor and the others pile cushions and chairs and books on him while he repeats, rocks and stones and the old horse's bones all this and more you may pile upon me. the mulberry bush the players join hands and go round and round in a ring, singing-- here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, here we go round the mulberry bush on a fine and frosty morning. they then let go hands and sing-- this is the way we wash our clothes, wash our clothes, wash our clothes, this is the way we wash our clothes on a fine and frosty morning, and as they sing they pretend to be washing. after the verse is done they join hands again and dance round to the singing of the mulberry bush chorus again, and so on after each verse. the other verses are-- ( ) this is the way we iron our clothes. ( ) this is the way we wash our face. ( ) this is the way we comb our hair. ( ) this is the way we go to school (_very sadly_). ( ) this is the way we learn our book. ( ) this is the way we sew our seams. and lastly and very gaily-- ( ) this is the way we come from school, and then the chorus comes again, and the game is done. looby, looby this is another of the old country games in which the players all have to do the same things. they first join hands and dance round, singing-- here we dance looby, looby, here we dance looby light, here we dance looby, looby, all on a saturday night. then, letting go of hands and standing still, they sing-- put your right hands in, put your right hands out, shake them and shake them a little, and turn yourselves about, and at the same time they do what the song directs. then the dance and chorus again, and then the next verse, and so on. this is the order-- ( ) put your left hands in. ( ) put your right feet in. ( ) put your left feet in. ( ) put your noddles in. and finally-- put your bodies in, put your bodies out, shake them and shake them a little, and turn yourselves about. orchestra an ear-splitting game that is always great fun. the players stand in rows before the leader or "conductor," who sings a verse from any well-known nonsense or other song. then he says, pointing to one of the players, "and the first violin played this simple melody," whereupon the two sing the verse over again, the player imitating with his arms the movements of a violin player, and with his voice the sound of a squeaking fiddle. then the conductor says, pointing to another player, "and the big trombone played this simple melody." then the three sing together, the second player imitating the sound of a trombone and the appearance of a trombone player. this is continued until every one is playing on an imaginary instrument, the conductor, of course, being the only one who sings the words of the song. a good fat hen a nonsensical game, useful in leading to forfeits. the company sit in a row, and one of the end players begins by saying, "a good fat hen." each of the others in turn must then say, "a good fat hen." the first player then says, "two ducks and a good fat hen," and the words pass down the line. then "three squawking wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen." and so on until the end is reached, in the following order-- fourth round.--prefix: four plump partridges. fifth round.-- " five pouting pigeons. sixth round.-- " six long-legged cranes. seventh round.-- " seven green parrots. eighth round.-- " eight screeching owls. ninth round.-- " nine ugly turkey-buzzards. tenth round.-- " ten bald eagles. the sentence has now reached a very difficult length:--"ten bald eagles, nine ugly turkey-buzzards, eight screeching owls, seven green parrots, six long-legged cranes, five pouting pigeons, four plump partridges, three squawking wild geese, two ducks and a good fat hen." any one making a mistake may be made to pay a forfeit. john ball the same game may be played also with "the house that jack built," and there are other stories of a similar kind. among these the most amusing for a large party would perhaps be the old rhyme of "john ball." first round.-- john ball shot them all. second round.-- john block made the stock, but john ball shot them all. third round.-- john brammer made the rammer, john block made the stock, but john ball shot them all. fourth round.-- john wyming made the priming, john brammer made the rammer, john block made the stock, but john ball shot them all. fifth round.-- john scott made the shot.... sixth round.-- john crowder made the powder.... seventh round.-- john puzzle made the muzzle.... eighth round.-- john farrell made the barrel.... ninth round.-- john clint made the flint.... tenth round.-- john patch made the match.... in the tenth round, then, each player has to say-- john patch made the match, john clint made the flint, john farrell made the barrel, john puzzle made the muzzle, john crowder made the powder, john scott made the shot, john wyming made the priming, john brammer made the rammer, john block made the stock, but john ball shot them all. chitterbob there is also the old rhyme of "chitterbob," but it is usual in repeating this to say it all at once, in one round, and not prolong the task. this is the rhyme:-- there was a man and his name was cob he had a wife and her name was mob, he had a dog and his name was bob, she had a cat and her name was chitterbob. "bob," says cob; "chitterbob," says mob. bob was cob's dog, mob's cat was chitterbob, cob, mob, bob, and chitterbob. in the old way of playing "chitterbob" a paper horn used to be twisted into the player's hair for each mistake made in the recitation, and at the end these horns could be got rid of only by paying forfeits. the muffin man "the muffin man" is another variety. the players sit in a circle, and the game is begun by one of them turning to the next and asking, either in speech or in song-- oh, do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man? oh, do you know the muffin man who lives in drury lane? the reply is-- oh, yes i know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man, oh, yes i know the muffin man who lives in drury lane. both players then repeat together-- then two of us know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man, then two of us know the muffin man who lives in drury lane. this done, the second player turns to the third and the same question and answer are given; but when it comes to the comment-- then three of us know the muffin man,... the first player also joins in. at the end therefore, if there are eight people playing, the whole company is singing-- then eight of us know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man, then eight of us know the muffin man who lives in drury lane. family coach in "family coach" each player takes the name of a part of a coach, as the axle, the door, the box, the reins, the whip, the wheels, the horn; or of some one connected with it, as the driver, the guard, the ostlers, the landlord, the bad-tempered passenger, the cheerful passenger, the passenger who made puns, the old lady with the bundle, and the horses--wheelers and leaders. one player then tells a story about the coach, bringing in as many of these people and things as he can, and as often. whenever a person or thing represented by a player is mentioned, that player must stand up and turn round. but whenever the coach is mentioned the whole company must stand up and turn round. otherwise, forfeits. a specimen story is here given as a hint as to the kind of thing needed:-- "there's the railway, of course," said _mr. burly_, "and there's the motor wagonette, and you've all got bicycles; but let's go to london in the old-fashioned way for once; let's go in the _family coach_." these words delighted everybody. "oh, yes," they all cried, "let's go in the _family coach_." it was therefore arranged, and _john the coachman_ had orders to get everything ready. this was no light matter, for the _family coach_ had not been used for many years, and it would need to be taken to the coachbuilder's at once and be overhauled. so the next morning it lumbered off, and it did not come back for a week; but when it did there was a change indeed. the _wheels_ had been painted red, the _axles_ had been tested, the _springs_ renewed, the inside re-lined, the _roof_ freshly upholstered, and the whole made bright and gay. at last the morning came, a clear, sunny day, and punctually at nine _john_ rattled up to the door. the _horses_ stood there pawing the ground, as if ready to gallop all the way. _john_ had a new coat and hat, and tim and peter, the _grooms_, were also in new livery. every one was ready. first came _mr. burly_ in a wonderful great overcoat, and then _mrs. burly_ in furs. then _uncle joshua_, then _aunt penelope_, and then the three girls and two boys. how they all found room i don't know, but they did. "are we all ready?" said _mr. burly_. "all ready," said _uncle joshua_. so _tim_ and _peter_ sprang away from the _horses'_ heads, crack went the _whip_, round went the _wheels_, _uncle joshua_ blew the _horn_, and the old _family coach_ was fairly on its journey. it was a splendid ride. _john_ kept his _horses_ going at a grand pace and hardly used the _whip_ at all, the _wheels_ ran smoothly over the road, and whenever we passed through a village _uncle joshua_ blew the _horn_. we stopped at thornminster for lunch. _john_ brought us up to the inn door in style, and the _landlord_ came out rubbing his hands and helped _mrs. burly_ and _aunt penelope_ down with a flourish. "proud to see you, sir," he said to _mr. burly_. "it is seldom enough that folks travel nowadays in an old _family coach_. i wish there were more of them." after lunch we went along in the same splendid way until suddenly round a corner came a donkey-cart with the donkey braying at the top of his voice. _john_ pulled the _horses_ well over to the side, but the braying was too much for them, and they rolled into the ditch. in a moment the old _family coach_ was overturned. _mr. burly_ was shot into the field across the hedge, _uncle joshua_, grasping the _horn_, landed in a pond, _john_ and _aunt penelope_, _mrs. burly_ and the _grooms_ all stuck in the hedge. no one was hurt, but two of the _wheels_ were broken to pieces and one _axle_ was bent, and that was therefore the last of the old _family coach_. so we never got to london in the old way after all. if this story is not long enough, it can be lengthened. the words in italics are those to be distributed among the company, each player taking more than one if necessary. when the accident comes they might all fall down as they are mentioned. in the case of the wheels and the horses, these may either be taken all four by one player, or eight players may share them. thus, when the wheels are mentioned, all four players who have taken the wheels would stand up and turn round, and four others when the horses were alluded to. the traveler, and the bicyclist "the traveler" is a favorite variety of the "family coach." in this game a player with a ready tongue is chosen as traveler, and the others are given such names as landlord, bell-boy, clerk, waiter, chambermaid, electric light, elevator, bed, supper, paper, sitting-room, bedroom, steam-radiator, slippers, and so on. the traveler is then supposed to arrive and give his orders. "can i have a room to-night? good. and how soon will _supper_ be ready? ask the _bell-boy_ to take my _satchels_ up to my _room_. show me to my _room_ and send up the _papers_." and so on, each person named having to stand up or be booked for a forfeit. this game lends itself to various new forms. one might be called "the bicyclist" and run thus:--a player having been chosen as the bicyclist, the others take as many bicycling names (or two names each might add to the fun) as there are players. thus--lamp, wick, oil, handle-bars, spokes, tires, chain, pump, nuts, bell, hedges, fields, sheep, roads, hill, dog. this settled, the bicyclist will begin his story, something in this style:-- it looked so fine this morning that i determined to go for a long ride. so i got out the _pump_ and blew up the _tires_, put the _monkey-wrench_ to a few _nuts_, filled the _lamp_, trimmed the _wick_, polished up the _bell_ and the _handle-bars_, and started off. the _roads_ were perfect. the _fields_ were shining with dew, the _hedges_ were sweet with honey-suckle, and i skimmed along like the wind until suddenly, at the turn at the foot of claymore _hill_, i rode bang into a flock of _sheep_ and came down with a smash. you never saw such a ruin. the _lamp_ and _bell_ were lost completely, the _handle-bars_ were twisted into corkscrews, the _tires_ were cut to ribbons, the _spokes_ looked like part of a spider's web, my hands and my knees were cut, and the worst of it was that the shepherd's _dog_ mistook me for an enemy and i had to beat him off with the _monkey-wrench_, until the farmer heard the noise and came to the rescue. during this story all the players named would, in the ordinary way, stand up for a moment when their adopted names were mentioned, except at the point when the accident occurs, and then every player bearing the name of a part of the bicycle--the handle-bars, spokes, tires, chain, air-pump, lamp, wick, bell, monkey-wrench, pump, nuts--should fall to the ground. drawing-room acrobatics there are various feats which can be performed in a small room without injury to furniture. to lie flat on the floor on one's back and be lifted into an upright position by a pair of hands under the back of the head, keeping stiff all the time, is a favorite accomplishment. another is to bend over and touch the floor with the tips of the fingers without bending the knees. another is, keeping your feet behind a line, to see who, by stretching along the ground supported on the left hand only, can place a penny with the right hand the farthest distance and get back again to an upright position behind the line without moving the feet or using the right hand for a support. this done, the penny must be recovered in the same way. another feat is, keeping your feet together and one arm behind you, to see how far back from the wall it is possible to place your feet (remembering that you have to get into an upright position again) while you lean forward supported by the other hand laid flat against the wall. another is to keep the toes to a line, and kneel down and get up again without using the hands. another is to make a bridge of your body from chair to chair, resting the back of your neck on one and your heels on the other. this is done by beginning with three chairs, one under the back, and then when you are rigid enough having the third one removed. acrobatic impossibilities if you hold your hands across your chest in a straight line with the tips of the forefingers pressed together, it will be impossible for any one else, however strong, to hold by your arms and pull those finger-tips apart. it is quite safe to stand a person against the wall with his heels touching it, and, laying a shilling on the floor a foot or so is front of him, to say it will be his if he can pick it up without moving his heels from the wall. another impossible thing is to stand sideways against the wall with your left cheek, left heel, and left leg touching it, and then raise the right leg. the trussed fowls in this contest two boys are first trussed. trussing consists of firmly tying wrists and ankles, bringing the elbows down below the knees and slipping a stick along over one elbow, under both knees and over the other elbow, as in the picture. the game is, for the two fowls to be placed opposite each other with their feet just touching, and for each then to strive to roll the other over with his toes. [illustration: a trussed fowl] the candle-lighters another balancing game. two boys face each other, each with a candle, one of which is lighted and the other not. kneeling on the right knee only and keeping the left leg entirely off the ground, they have to make one candle light the other. hat and cards a tall hat is placed in the middle of the room and a pack of cards is dealt out to the players seated round it. the game is to throw the cards one by one into the hat. tug of war this is properly an outdoor game, but in a big room indoors it is all right. the two sides should be even in numbers, at any rate in the first pull. in the middle of the rope a handkerchief is tied, and three chalk lines a yard apart are made on the floor. the sides then grasp the rope, the captain of each side, whose duty it is to encourage his men by cheering cries, having his hands about a yard and a half from the handkerchief. the rope is then trimmed by the umpire until the handkerchief comes exactly over the middle one of the three lines. on the word being given, each side has to try and pull the rope so that the handkerchief passes over the chalk line nearest it. the best of three decides the victory. for the sake of sport it is better, if one side is much weaker than the other, to add to it until the balance of strength is pretty even. high skip the players stand in as wide a circle as the size of the room allows, with one player in the middle. he has a rope or heavy cord in his hand with some object, rather heavy but not hard, tied to it, such as a small cushion or a large bunch of rags. stooping down, he begins swinging this around the circle. as it comes to them the players must jump over the cord. as the cushion is swung faster and faster it goes higher and is more difficult to jump over. the first one to miss takes the place of the person swinging the rope, who is not allowed to raise his hand higher than his knee. parlor football in this game goals are set up at each end of the room, the players are provided with fans, and the football is a blown hen's egg, which is wafted backward and forward along the floor. balloon a string is stretched across the room at a height of about three or four feet. the players divide into sides and line up on each side of the string. the balloon is then thrown up, the game being to keep it in the air backward and forward over the string, so that if it falls it will fall in the other side's camp. it ought to be tapped with the back of the fingers and not hit hard. tissue-paper race in this game tissue-paper is cut into pieces three or four inches square. as many squares as there are players are placed in a line at one end of the room, and at the other are placed two books, or other objects, a foot or so apart. at the word of command each competitor, who is armed with a japanese fire-screen or fan, starts to fan his square through the goal-posts. for the sake of distinguishing them it is better to mark the papers or have them of different colors. a competitor may not fan any other square except by accident. walking spanish this game should not be played unless there are some older, stronger players to prevent possible accidents, but it is very amusing. each player in turn goes to the end of the room, takes a cane or umbrella, puts his head down on the handle, closes his eyes and, stooping over thus, whirls rapidly about six times, not moving the point of the cane from its original position. then instantly he straightens up and tries to walk steadily the length of the room along a string laid down or line marked. the one who steps nearest to the line all the time is the winner. potato race this is a good game for a hall or landing. two baskets are needed, which are placed at one end of the hall about two yards apart, and then in a line from each basket are placed potatoes, at intervals of a yard or so all down the floor, an equal number to each line. any even number of competitors can play, the race being run in heats. each competitor is armed with a long spoon, and his task is to pick up all the potatoes on his line and return them to the basket before his opponent can. each potato must be carried to the basket in turn, and if dropped on the way must be picked up again before another can be touched, and the spoon only must be used. any help from the other hand or from the foot disqualifies. fire-buckets at a fire in the country, where there is no hose, a line of men extends from the burning house to the nearest pond, and buckets are continually being passed along this line. hence the name by which this excellent game is called here. it is played thus. a large number of miscellaneous and unbreakable articles--balls, boots, potatoes, books, and so on--are divided into two exactly equal groups, and each group is placed in a clothes basket. the company then forms into two equal lines, and each chooses a captain. each captain stands by the basket at one end of his line, at the other end being a chair and another player standing by that. at the word "start," the articles are handed one by one by the captain to the first player in the line, and passed as quickly as possible without dropping to the player by the chair. as they come to him he piles them on the chair (without dropping any) until all are there, and then returns them with equal speed until the basket is filled again. the side which finishes first is the winner. if an article is dropped it must be picked up before any other of the articles can pass the player who dropped it. forfeits in many of the games already described mention has been made of "forfeits." they do not now play quite so important a part in an evening's entertainment as once they did, but they can still add to the interest of games. "paying a forfeit" means giving up to the player who is collecting forfeits some personal article or other--a knife, a pencil, a handkerchief--which, at the end of the game, or later in the evening, has to be recovered by performing whatever penance is ordered. when the times comes for "crying the forfeits," as it is called, the player who has them sits in a chair, while another player, either blindfolded or hiding her eyes, kneels before her, the remaining players standing all around. the first player then holds up a forfeit, remarking, "i have a thing, and a very pretty thing. pray what shall be done to the owner of this pretty thing?" to which the blindfolded one replies by asking, "is it fine or superfine?" meaning, does it belong to a boy (fine) or a girl (superfine)? the answer is either "it is fine," or "it is superfine," and the blindfolded one then announces what its owner must do to get possession of it again. of stock penances there are a great number, most of which are tricks which, once known, are necessarily very tame afterward. in the case of those that follow, therefore, something definite and practical is required. frown for a minute. dance for a minute. see how many you can count in a minute. say the alphabet backward. do the exact opposite of three things ordered by the company. crow like a cock. say "gig whip" ten times very rapidly. say "mixed biscuits" ten times very rapidly. say rapidly: "she stood on the steps of burgess's fish sauce shop selling shell fish." say rapidly: "peter piper picked a peck of pickled pepper. a peck of pickled pepper peter piper picked. if peter piper picked a peck of pickled pepper, where is the peck of pickled pepper peter piper picked?" count fifty backward. repeat a nursery rhyme. hold your hands behind you, and, keeping them there, lie down and get up again. hold your hands together and put them under your feet and over your head. walk round the room balancing three books on your head without using your hands. smile to the prettiest, bow to the wittiest, and kiss the one you love the best. yawn until you make some one else yawn. push your friend's head through a ring. (put your finger through a ring and push your friend's head with the tip.) place a straw on the floor so that you can't jump over it. (very close to the wall.) put a chair on a table, take off your shoes and jump over them. (over your shoes.) leave the room with two legs and come in with six. (bring in a chair.) repeat five times without mistake, "a rat ran over the roof of the house with a lump of raw liver in his mouth." repeat ten times rapidly, "troy boat." ask a question to which "no" cannot be answered. (what does y-e-s spell?) shake a dime off your forehead. (the coin is wet and some one presses it firmly to the forehead of the one to pay the forfeit, who must keep his eyes closed. the dime is taken away, but the forfeit player still feels it there and tries to shake it off.) repeat a verse of poetry, counting the words aloud. mary (one) had (two) a (three) little (four) lamb (five). dance in one corner, cry in another, sing in another, and fall dead in the fourth. two forfeits may be redeemed at once by blindfolding two players, handing them each a glass of water, and bidding them give the other a drink. this, however, can be a very damp business. the old way of getting rid of a large number of forfeits was to tell their owners to hold a cats' concert, in which each sings a different song at the same time. perhaps it would be less noisy and more interesting if they were told to personate a farm-yard. auctioning prizes a novel way of awarding prizes is to auction them. each guest on arrival is given a small bag instead of a tally card. these bags are used to hold beans, five of which are given to all the players that progress at the end of each game. after the playing stops the prizes are auctioned. of course the person who has the greatest number of beans can buy the best prizes; so that besides making a great deal of fun, the distribution is entirely fair. drawing games many persons, when a drawing game is suggested, ask to be excused on the ground of an inability to draw. but in none of the games that are described in this chapter is any real drawing power necessary. the object of each game being not to produce good drawings but to produce good fun, a bad drawing is much more likely to lead to laughter than a good one. five dots all children who like drawing like this game; but it is particularly good to play with a real artist, if you have one among your friends. you take a piece of paper and make five dots on it, wherever you like--scattered about far apart, close together (but not too close), or even in a straight line. the other player's task is to fit in a drawing of a person with one of these dots at his head, two at his hands, and two at his feet, as in the examples on page . outlines or wiggles another form of "five dots" is "outlines." instead of dots a line, straight, zigzag, or curved, is made at random on the paper. papers are then exchanged and this line must be fitted naturally into a picture, as in the examples on page . a good way to play wiggles when there are a number of people to play, is to mark the same line for all the players, either by pressing down very hard with a hard pencil so that the line can be traced from one piece of paper to another, or with carbon copy paper between the sheets. thus each person has the same line, and the one who uses his in the most fantastic and unexpected way is the winner. the only rule about making the line is that a circle shall not be made. the two ends must be left ready to add the rest of the design. it is well sometimes to limit the pictures to human faces, as this makes the grotesque unlikeness of the drawings all the more absurd. [illustration: five dots] [illustration: outlines] eyes-shut drawings the usual thing to draw with shut eyes is a pig, but any animal will do as well (or almost as well, for perhaps the pig's curly tail just puts him in the first place). why it should be so funny a game it is difficult quite to explain, but people laugh more loudly over it than over anything else. there is one lady at least who keeps a visitor's book in which every one that stays at her house has to draw an eyes-shut pig. the drawings are signed, and the date is added. such a guest book is now manufactured, bound in pig skin, or in cloth. "ghosts of my friends" while on the subject of novel albums the "ghost of my friends" might be mentioned. the "ghost" is the effect produced by writing one's signature with plenty of ink, and while the ink is still very wet, folding the paper down the middle of the name, lengthwise, and pressing the two sides firmly together. the result is a curious symmetrically-shaped figure. some people prefer "ghosts" to ordinary signatures in a visitors' book. the "book of butterflies" is on the same order. with the book come four tubes of paint. the paint is squeezed on the page, which is doubled and flattened. the effects are very beautiful, and surprisingly lifelike. another guest book is the "hand-o-graph," in which the outline of the hand of each guest is kept. the "thumb-o-graph" is on the same principle, except that in this case the imprint of the guest's thumb is preserved, made from an ink pad supplied with the book. a remarkable collection can be made of ink-blot pictures. a drop of ink, either round as it naturally falls, or slightly lengthened with a pen, is dropped on paper which is then folded smartly together and rubbed flat. the most surprising designs are the result, some of which, aided a little by the pen, look like landscapes, figures and complicated geometric designs. drawing tricks six drawing tricks are illustrated on this page. one ( ) is the picture of a soldier and a dog leaving a room, drawn with three strokes of the pencil. another ( ) is a sailor, drawn with two squares, two circles, and two triangles. another ( ), henry viii, drawn with a square and nine straight lines. another ( ), invented for this book, an esquimaux waiting to harpoon a seal, drawn with eleven circles and a straight line. the remaining figures are a cheerful pig and a despondent pig ( ), and a cat ( ), drawn with the utmost possible simplicity. [illustration: drawing tricks] composite animals in this game the first player writes the name of an animal at the top of the paper and folds it over. the next writes another, and so on until you have four, or even five. you then unfold the papers and draw animals containing some feature of each of those named. [illustration] [illustration] invented animals a variation of this game is for the players to draw and describe a new creature. on one occasion when this game was played every one went for names to the commoner advertisements. the best animal produced was the hairy coco, the description of which stated, among other things, that it was fourteen feet long and had fourteen long feet. a good guessing contest is to supply every person with a slip of paper on which is written the name of an animal. he draws a picture of it and these pictures are all exhibited signed with the artist's name. the person who guesses correctly the subjects of the greatest number of them wins. heads, bodies, and tails for this game sheets of paper are handed round and each player draws at the top of his sheet a head. it does not matter in the least whether it is a human being's or a fish's head, a quadruped's, a bird's, or an insect's. the paper is then turned down, two little marks are made to show where the neck and body should join, and the paper is passed on for the body to be supplied. here again it does not matter what kind of body is chosen. the paper is then folded again, marks are made to show where the legs (or tail) ought to begin, and the paper is passed on again. after the legs are drawn the picture is finished. pictures to order each player sits, pencil in hand, before a blank sheet of paper, his object being to make a picture containing things chosen by the company in turn. the first player then names the thing that he wants in the picture. perhaps it is a tree. he therefore says, "draw a tree," when all the players, himself included, draw a tree. perhaps the next says, "draw a boy climbing the tree"; the next, "draw a balloon caught in the top branches"; the next, "draw two little girls looking up at the balloon"; and so on, until the picture is full enough. the chief interest of this game resides in the difficulty of finding a place for everything that has to be put in the picture. a comparison of the drawings afterward is usually amusing. hieroglyphics, or picture-writing as a change from ordinary letter-writing, "hieroglyphics" are amusing and interesting to make. the best explanation is an example, such as is given on pages and , the subject being two verses from a favorite nursery song. pictures and titles each player draws on the upper half of the paper an historical scene, whether from history proper or from family history, and appends the title, writing it along the bottom of the paper and folding it over. the drawings are then passed on and each player writes above the artist's fold (or on another sheet of paper) what he thinks they are meant to represent, and folds the paper over what he has written. in the accompanying example the title at the bottom of the paper is what the draughtsman himself wrote; the others are the other players' guesses. [illustration: various descriptions by the players the abbot of christchurch, near bournemouth, surveys the scaffolding of the abbey. the end of the paris exhibition. an old man coming back to the home of his childhood, looks across the river, where a duck is swimming, to the dilapidated cathedral and town which represent the stately piles he remembered. the building of the ark. the artist's description the last man surveying the ruins of the crystal palace.] writing games many of the games under this heading look harder than they really are. but the mere suggestion of a writing game is often enough to frighten away timid players who mistrust their powers of composition--although the result can be as funny when these powers are small as when they are considerable. the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. simple acrostics there are "simple acrostics" and "double acrostics." the simple ones are very simple. when the players are all ready a word is chosen by one of them, either from thought or by looking at a book and taking the first promising one that occurs. perhaps it is "govern." each player then puts the letters forming "govern" in a line down the paper, and the object of the game is to find, in a given time, words beginning with each of those letters. thus, at the end of time, one player might have-- g ravy o range v iolet e sther r obin n umbskull the players then describe their words in turn, one letter going the round before the next is reached, and from these descriptions the words have to be guessed, either by any player who likes or by the players in turn. the player whose paper we have quoted might describe his words like this: g---- "something that makes hot beef nice"; o---- "a fruit"; v---- "a flower"; e---- "a girl's name"; r---- "a bird"; and n---- "a name for a silly person." if any one else has the same word neither of you can score it, and it is therefore important to seek for the most unlikely words. another way of playing "simple acrostics" is to insist on each word being the same length. thus "govern" might be filled in by one player thus:-- g rave o ddly v erse e arth r ebel n inth double acrostics in "double acrostics" the game is played in precisely the same way, except that the letters of the word, after having been arranged in a line down the paper, are then arranged again in a line up the paper, so that the first letter is opposite the last, and the last opposite the first. thus:-- g n o r v e e v r o n g the players have then to fill in words beginning and ending with the letters as thus arranged. one paper might come out thus:-- g rai n o rde r v ersatil e e ... v r apall o n othin g this word is rather a hard one on account of the e and v. as a rule, words of only three letters are not allowed in "acrostics," nor are plurals. that is to say, if the word has to end in "s," one must not simply add "s" to an ordinary word, such as "grooms" for g----s, but find a word ending naturally in "s," such as "genesis." it is not necessary to invert the same word in order to get letters for the ends of the words. two words of equal length can be chosen and arranged side by side. thus (but this is almost too difficult an example):-- d k i i c p k l e i n n s g "acrostics" may be made more difficult and interesting by giving them a distinct character. thus, it may be decided that all the words that are filled in must be geographical, or literary, or relating to flowers. fives "fives" is a game which is a test also of one's store of information. a letter is chosen, say t, and for a given time, ten minutes perhaps, the players write down as many names of animals beginning with t as they can think of. the first player then reads his list, marking those words that no one else has and crossing off all that are also on other players' papers. then the names of vegetables (including flowers, trees, and fruit) are taken; then minerals; then persons; and then places. the player who has most marks wins the game. a variety of this game is to take a long word, say "extraordinary," and within a given time to see how many smaller words can be made from it, such as tax, tin, tea, tear, tare, tray, din, dray, dairy, road, rat, raid, and so on. lists "lists" is a variety of "fives." paper is provided, and each player in turn calls out something which the whole company write down. thus, suppose there are five players and you decide to go round three times: the first may say a river; the second, a doctor; the third, a complaint; the fourth, a play; the fifth, a state in the union; the first again, a musical instrument; the second again, a poet; and so on, until the fifteen things are all written down. each paper will then have the same list of fifteen things upon it. one of the company then opens a book at random, and chooses, say, the first letter of the third word in the first line. perhaps it is t. for a given time each player has to supply his list with answers beginning with t. at the call of time one of the papers may present this appearance:-- a river tees a doctor. mr. treves a complaint tic doloreux a play timon of athens a state in the union tennessee a musical instrument trombone a poet tennyson a flower trefoil a mineral tin a lake tanganyika a tree tulip a country turkey an author trollope an artist tadema a preacher talmage each player in turn reads his list aloud, strikes off those words that others also have, and puts a mark against the rest. the specimen list here given is too simple to be called a good one. players should reject the first thing that comes into their thoughts, in favor of something less natural. buried names the first thing for the players to do is to decide what kind of name they will bury. the best way is to call out something in turn. thus, if there are four players they may decide to bury the name of an author, a girl, a town, and a river. each player writes these down and a fixed time is given for burial, which consists in writing a sentence that shall contain the name somewhere spelled rightly but spread over two words, or three if possible. at the end of the time the sentences are read aloud in turn, while the others guess. of course, the whole game may be given up to burying only one kind of name, but variety is perhaps better. examples are given:-- an author: i like to keep the y_ew in g_ood order. a girl: the boy was cru_el, laz_y and obstinate. a town: clothes that are _new have n_o need of brushing. a river: to see spoil_t ham es_pecially annoys me. it is permissible to bury the name in the middle of one longer word, but it is better to spread it over two or three. perhaps the best example of a buried english town is this: "the queen of she_ba sings to ke_ep her spirits up." this is good, because the sentence is natural, because of the unusual number of words that are made use of in the burial, and because in reading it aloud the sound of the buried town is not suggested. letters and telegrams in this game you begin with the letter. the first thing to write is the address and "my dear ----," choosing whomever you like, but usually, as in "consequences," either a public person or some one known, if possible, to every one present. the paper is then folded over and passed on. the next thing to write is the letter itself, which should be limited to two minutes or some short period, and should be the kind of letter that requires a reply. the paper is folded and passed on again, and the subscription, "believe me yours sincerely," or whatever adverb you choose, and the signature are then added. (these may be divided into two separate writings if you like.) the signature should be that of another public person, or friend, relation or acquaintance of the family. the paper is then passed on once more, and a reply to the letter, in the form of a telegram, is written. that is to say, you must say as much as you can in ten words. example:-- the letter _the first player writes_:--my dear buffalo bill. _the second player writes_:--can you give me any information about suitable songs for our village choir? _the third player writes_:--believe me yours slavishly. _the fourth player writes_:--kitchener of khartoum. the reply telegram _the fifth player writes_:--be with you to-morrow. have sheets aired. am bringing everything. telegrams there is also the game of "telegrams." in this the first thing to write is the name of the person sending the telegram. the paper is then passed on, and the name of the person to whom it is sent is written. the papers are then passed on again and opened, and the players in turn each say a letter of the alphabet, chosen at random, until there are ten. as these are spoken, each player writes them on the paper before him, leaving a space after it; so that when the ten are all written down his paper may look like this:-- from the duke of york to barnum and bailey. h ... a ... p ... n ... w ... e ... k ... s ... f ... t ... a period of five minutes or more is then allowed in which to complete the telegram, the message having to be ten words long, and each word to begin, in the same order, with these letters. the players should, as far as possible, make the telegrams reasonable, if not possible. thus, the form given above might, when finished, read like this:-- from the duke of york to barnum and bailey. have awning prepared next wednesday evening kindly send five tickets in calling out the ten letters which are to be used in the telegram, it is well to avoid the unusual consonants and to have a vowel here and there. an amusing variety is for all the players to compose telegrams on the same subject; the subject being given beforehand. thus it might be decided that all the telegrams should be sent from president roosevelt to alice in wonderland asking for her views on the tariff. then having completed these messages, the answers may also be prepared, using the same letters. but, of course, as in all games, family matters work out more amusingly than public ones. initials paper is handed round, and each player thinks of some public person, or friend or acquaintance of the company, and writes in full his or her christian name (or names) and surname. then, for, say, five minutes, a character sketch of the person chosen has to be composed, each word of which begins with the initial letter of each of the person's names, repeated in their right order until the supply of thought gives out or time is up. thus, suppose the person chosen is frank richard stockton, the story writer. the character sketch might run:-- f ancifully r ecounts s trange f reakish r omantic s tories. f inds r isibility s urely. f requently r aises s miles. an occasional "and" and "of" may be dropped in if necessary. where one of the names begins with a vowel (such as william _e_wart gladstone) the character sketch can be made to run more easily. it is sometimes more amusing to give every one the same names to work on; and in some houses the players are not allowed to choose names for themselves, but must pass the paper on. the characters of towns and nations may be written in the same way, using all the letters of the word as the initials. riddles a more difficult game is "riddles." at the top of the paper is written anything that you can think of: "a soldier," "a new dress," "a fit of the blues," "a railway accident"--anything that suggests itself. the paper is passed on and anything else is written, no matter what. it is passed on again and opened. suppose that the two things written on it are, first, "a school-teacher," and second, "a pair of skates." the duty of the player is to treat them as a riddle, and, asking the question either as "why is a school-teacher like a pair of skates?" or "what is the difference between a school-teacher and a pair of skates?" (whichever way one prefers), to supply a reasonable answer. this game, it will be seen, is suited particularly to clever people. rhymed replies this is a game that needs a certain amount of readiness and some skill with words. each of the party writes at the top of a piece of paper a question of any kind whatever, such as "how old was cæsar when he died?" or "what is your favorite color?" the paper is folded over and passed on, and the next player writes a word--any word--such as "electricity," "potato," "courageously," "milk." the papers are then passed on once more and opened, and the task of each player is to write a rhyme in which the question on his paper is answered and the word on his paper is introduced. missing information every one is supplied with a piece of paper and pencils and tries to write down correct answers to questions about everyday things which we none of us know. a suggestive list is given but any one can add to it indefinitely. . how big do you think a postage-stamp is, in inches--a five dollar bill? . draw a picture of a clock's face with the hands pointing to five minutes of twelve. . how tall do you think a man's silk hat is, a derby? . draw the design in panels of the door to the room you are in. (of course without looking at it.) . how many holes are there in a high laced shoe--your own? . how many toes has a cat, a dog? . how many legs has a fly? . how does a cow lie down? a horse? . about how many petals has a common daisy? a wild rose? a sun flower? . how high from the ground is a street-car?--a railway car? the person who can answer most correctly the greatest number of questions is the winner. consequences "consequences" is always a favorite game when a party has reached its frivolous mood. the method of playing is this: sheets of paper and pencils are handed round, and every one writes at the head ( ) an adjective suitable to be applied to a man, such as "handsome." this word is then folded over so that it cannot be read, and each paper is passed on to the next person. the name of a man ( ) is then written, either some one you know, or a public person, such as the president or mr. carnegie. this in turn is folded over and the papers are passed on. the word "met" is understood to be inserted at this point. that is to say, the completed story will tell how handsome mr. carnegie met some one. the next thing ( ) is to put down an adjective suitable to apply to the woman whom he met, such as "buxom," and then ( ) the woman's name, again either some one you know, or a public person,--the papers being folded and passed on after every writing. the remaining items are these:--( ) the place where they met--say, on the pier. ( ) what he said to her--say, "i hope your neuralgia is better." ( ) what she said to him--say, "there's nothing like rain for the crops." ( ) what the consequence was--say, "they were married." ( ) what the world said--"all's well that ends well." it must be remembered that unless there are very few players, when it is less fun, you do not get the chance of writing more than once, or at most twice, on the same sheet of paper, so that it is of no use to have a reasonable series of remarks in your mind. the specimen given above is an average one. in print nothing could be much less funny, but when the company has the spirit of "consequences," even so tame a story as this might keep the room merry. the game is always full of the unexpected, and the people who meet each other are almost sure to be laughing-stocks. the results are often better if all the papers are handed to one player to read. consequences extended the form of "consequences" above given is the ordinary one and the simplest. but in certain families the game has been altered and improved by other clauses. we give the fullest form of "consequences" with which we are acquainted. as it stands it is rather too long; but players may like to add to the fun of the ordinary game by adopting a few of these additions:-- adjective for a man. the man. what he was wearing. what he was doing. (met) adjective for a woman. the woman. what she was wearing. what she was doing. the person he would much rather have met. where they met. what he thought. what he said. what she thought. what she said. what he gave her. what she did with it. where they went. what they did. what the consequence was. what the world said. example:-- the honorable theodore roosevelt, who was dressed in a moiré antique bath-towel and was eating walnuts, met coy aunt priscilla in a khaki tea-gown playing with her noah's ark, when he would much rather have met madame tussaud. they met at south hampton. what he thought was, "here's this woman again," but he merely said, "that's a very chic costume of yours." what she thought was, "i wonder if he's seen peter pan," but she only said, "that's wet paint you're leaning against." he gave her a piercing glance, and she swallowed it. so they went to prison together and learned to ride the bicycle, and the consequence was they caught influenza, and the world said, "it's an ill wind that blows nobody good." composite stories another folding-over and passing-on game is "composite stories." paper is passed round, and for five minutes each player writes the opening of a story with a title prefixed. the papers are passed on, and each player reads through as much of the story as has been written and for five minutes adds to it. and so on, until each player has written once on each paper. the papers are then passed on once more, with the result that each paper will be found to be lying before the player who began it. the next and last five minutes are then spent by each person in reading through the story and bringing it to an end, sometimes a difficult enough task. if six persons are playing and allowances of five minutes have been given, there will be at the end of thirty-five minutes six complete stories to read aloud. another story game a variety of the story game is for each player to write the name of a well-known person or friend of the family on the top of the paper, fold it over, and pass it on. this happens, say, five times, which means that when the papers are opened the names of five persons will be found on each. a story has then to be written introducing these people. improbable stories another story game is one in which each player attempts to tell the most improbable or impossible story. in this case the papers are not passed on, but a certain amount of time is given for the stories to be written in. the newspaper this is a rather elaborate but really very easy game to play. one player, who acts as editor, takes as many sheets of paper as there are players and writes at the head of each the title of a section of a newspaper. thus on one he will write, paris correspondence; on another, english correspondence; on another, berlin correspondence; on a fourth, political news; on a fifth, our fashion page; on a sixth, reviews; on a seventh, weather report; and so on. each player then, for a given time, writes on the subject allotted to him, more or less in the manner of the daily press, and at the end the result is read aloud by the editor. the plan is easily adapted to family or village life. the heading may refer to domestic matters, such as nursery correspondence, kitchen gossip, fashions for gentlemen (an account of father's new suit), garden news, village chatter, and so on. or, instead of a newspaper, a popular magazine may be contributed, with illustrations. predicaments this is a good game for a company of ingenious people, and it will be found that almost every one is ingenious when confronted with a difficult situation and given time to think out a solution. every one is given paper and pencil (or this is not necessary since the solutions may be oral). then one player starts the game by suggesting some predicament and asking the company "what would you do in such a case?" five minutes are given for reflection, and fifteen if the answers are to be written. then each in turn must say how he would have extricated himself from the scrape. a few suitable subjects are given here. if you found yourself in a strange city, where you didn't know a soul, with no money and nothing you could pawn, what would you do? if you should wake up in the night and see a burglar just entering the room, what would you do? if you should look out of your school-room door and see smoke and fire in the hall, what would you do? if you should be in a foreign country, not able to speak the language and wanted to order a room and breakfast, what would you do? table and card games card games and others card games proper, such as bezique and cribbage and whist, do not come into the scope of this book. nor do games such as chess, draughts, halma and backgammon. it is not that they are not good games, but that, having to be bought, their rules do not need enumerating again. the description of a few very old and favorite games with cards, and one or two new ones, is, however, given, because they can be made at home. letter games on page will be found the simplest letter game. letters can be used for a round game by one player making a word, shuffling it, and throwing it face upward into the middle of the table. the winner is the player who first sees what it spells. distribute a box of letters among the players, dealing them face downward. in turn each player takes up a letter at random and puts it face upward in the middle of the table. the object of the game is to make words out of these letters. directly a player sees a word he calls it out, and taking the letters places them in front of him, where they remain until the end of the game, when each player counts his words and the owner of the greatest number is the winner. if, however, a word has been chosen which, by the addition of another letter or so from the middle of the table, can be transformed into a longer word, the player who thinks of this longer word takes the shorter word from the other player and places it before himself. thus, a might see the word "seat" among the letters, and calling it out, place it before him; and then b, noticing another "t," might call out "state," and adding it to a's word, take that to himself. if, however, a then detected an "e" in the middle and called out "estate" the word would be his again. these losses and reconquests form the chief fun of the game. an "s" at the end of a word, forming a plural, is not allowed. patience, or thirteens many games of "patience" can be played as well with numbered cards as with ordinary playing cards. it does not matter much what size they are, but for convenience, in playing on a small table, they may as well be about an inch wide and two inches long, with the number at the top. thus:-- +------------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +------------+ a "patience" set consists of four packs of cards each containing four sets of thirteen cards numbered from to . these can be made at home perfectly well, and a little bag to hold each pack should also be made. the simplest game is to arrange the four sets in their right order. one player empties her four bags into a basket, shakes them up, and calls them out as she picks them out (at random). the others, who have the cards spread before them, then arrange them in four rows as well as may be, until a is called and there is a chance to begin packing the others upon it. with inexperienced players five rows are sometimes allowed. we do not give other games of "patience," for two reasons. one is that it is not exactly a children's game, and the other, that it is one of the games which can be properly taught only by personal instruction. varieties of "patience" are very numerous, and good books can be had on the subject. snap there can be no real need to describe "snap," but perhaps it may be useful to have the rules in print here in case of any dispute. a pack of "snap" cards is dealt round, any number being able to play; and the game begins by the players taking their cards one by one from their hands and in turn laying them face upward on the table before them. if a card is turned up similar to a card already on view on the table, the player who turns it up or the player who owns the similar card cries "snap," and the cards go to the player who says "snap" first. as it is sometimes difficult for the players to distinguish which says "snap" first, it is well to have an umpire. in the case of an undoubted dead-heat the game should go on as if nothing had happened. the player who won the cards gathers up also into his hand all the cards which were before him and continues the game. when a player has transferred all his cards from his hand to the table he waits until his turn comes and then takes them into his hand again. this is a very exciting moment, because, if his top card were snapped, then he would lose everything. in good "snap" packs there are several sets of cards which are intentionally made nearly but not absolutely alike, and it is very common to say "snap" by mistake when one of these turns up. in that case the cards of the player who cried "snap" are placed in the middle of the table, where they stay until some one turns up a card exactly like the top one and "snap centre" is called, when both the centre pack and the pack in front of the turner-up belong to the player who cried "snap centre." it may of course be the turner-up himself, but is very likely somebody else, because whereas under ordinary conditions only the owners of similar cards may cry "snap," when there are cards is the middle too any one may cry "snap centre." (in some houses any one may cry "snap" all through the game, but that is not the best way.) when a player has lost all his cards he is out of the game until there are cards in the middle again, when an opportunity comes of snap-centring them and getting into play again. the game goes on until one player has all the cards. grab in "grab," a very rowdy variety of "snap," a cork is placed in the middle of the table. the rules are the same as in "snap," except that, instead of saying "snap," you snatch for the cork; in the case of "snap centre," snatching and saying "centre" too. snap cards "snap" cards may just as well be home-made as bought. they either can be painted, in which case you must be careful that the sets of four articles are just alike, or you can cut out shapes of different colored paper and stick them on. a bundle of wall-paper patterns is splendid material for a pack. the only advantage that bought "snap" cards have over home-made ones is that they slip better. old maid this game can be played by any number, either with a home-made pack or with ordinary playing cards from which three of the queens have been taken away; the remaining queen being the old maid. the cards are then dealt and each player first weeds out all pairs, such as two knaves, two aces, two fives, and so on. all having done this, the player who begins offers her hand, with the cards face downward, to her neighbor, and her neighbor takes one. she then looks through her cards to see if it pairs with any that she already has, and, if it does, throws the pair on the table. having finished her examination she offers her cards in the same way to the next player, and so it goes on. as the possessor of the old maid card is, at the end, the loser of the game, each one who gets it does all in her power to induce the next player to take it. as the cards get fewer and fewer the excitement grows and grows. "old bachelor" is played in the same way, except that three of the kings are then thrown out. pig "pig" is a very noisy game. it is played with ordinary cards, unless you like to make a "pig" set, which would be very easy. having discovered how many persons want to play, you treat the pack accordingly. for instance, if five want to play you throw out all cards except five sets of four; if six, or three, you throw out all cards except six sets of four or three sets of four. thus, if five were playing, the cards might consist of four aces, four twos, four threes, four fours, and four fives; or, if you began at the other end, four kings, four queens, four knaves, four tens and four nines. the cards are shuffled and dealt round, four each, and the game is for each player to complete a set of four. you do not, as in "old maid," select one from the cards that are offered, face downward, but each player hands whatever card he likes to the next player, who is bound to accept it. directly a player has a set of four complete he lays the cards on the table, either very stealthily or with a bang, whichever he likes. immediately a set is laid on the table (or directly the other players notice it) all other cards have to be laid there, too. the player who is last in laying them down is pig. the game is played for as many rounds as you like, the player who was last the fewest times being the winner. the word pig alters with each round. the last player to lay down his cards in the second round is not merely pig, but little pig; in the third, big pig; in the fourth, mother (or father) pig; in the fifth, grandmother (or grandfather) pig; in the sixth, ancestral pig; in the seventh, venerable pig; in the eighth, primeval pig; in the ninth, crackling. prophecies and characteristics this is a memory game and a very amusing one. it is played with two packs of cards of any sort. one pack is laid in a heap, face down, in the middle of the table. the other pack is distributed to the players, who lay them face upward in rows; each person should not have more than twelve cards since it is practically impossible to remember more than that number. any one can begin by giving either a prophecy or a characteristic--thus: "who will inherit a fortune inside a year?" or "who will be the first in the room to wear false teeth?" at the same time turning up a card from the centre pile. whoever has the card matching this, takes it, lays it face down on his card repeating the prophecy, "i will be the first to wear false teeth." the next in turn gives a characteristic, "who has the worst temper?" or "who has the most unselfish disposition?" this process continues around, until all the centre cards are matched. then the memory test comes in. every player in turn tries to remember and repeat all the prophecies and characteristics which have fallen to his share, giving them aloud in rapid succession. he is allowed for deliberation on any one only the time while ten is being counted. the one who remembers the greatest number is the winner. the old maid's birthday this game is utterly foolish, but it can lead to shouts of laughter. it has been founded on an old-fashioned card game called "mr. punch." the first thing required is a pack of plain cards on which should be written the names of articles of food and clothing, household utensils, and other domestic and much advertised things: such, for example, as a frock-coat, a round of beef, a foot-warmer, a box of pills. a story, somewhat on the lines of that which follows, must then be prepared and copied into a note-book. the company take their places and the cards are handed round. these should be held face downward. when all is ready one of the players reads the story, pausing at each blank for the player whose turn comes next to fill it in by calling out whatever is on his uppermost card. no matter how often the game is played (provided the cards are re-shuffled) the unexpected always happens, and it is usually so absurd as to be quite too much for a room all ready for laughter. the number of blanks in the story should be equal to the number of cards, and in order that the story may run on smoothly it is well for the next player always to glance at his top card just before his turn, so as to bring it out readily and naturally. the following story, which makes provision for nearly fifty cards, should be found serviceable until a better and more personal one is written. it will add to the amusement if the player who reads it substitutes the names of real shops and, if he likes, real people: attention. it was miss flitters's birthday, and she woke with a start and hurried down to see what the postman had brought. there were five parcels and a letter. the letter was from miss bitters. "dear miss flitters," it ran, "i am so sorry to hear of your cold, and in the hope that it will do you good, i am sending you a ----. i always find it excellent, although mother prefers ----. we both wish you many happy returns of the day." the other presents were, from miss ditters a handsome ----, from miss glitters a delicate ----, and from miss hitters a particularly refined ----. "dear me!" said miss flitters, "what a useful gift! just exactly what i wanted." she then sat down to breakfast, which, this being a special day, consisted of ----. "i did my best to do it to a turn," said the cook, as she laid it on the table with her own hands. "mary said as how you'd prefer a ----, but, bless your 'eart, miss flitters, i know your tastes best." "you do, indeed," said miss flitters. "the thing is perfectly cooked. it's delicious. it reminds me of ----. to-day," she added, "i am giving a party, and i want you to let us have a very charming meal. i will get the things directly after breakfast. what do you think we shall need?" "well, ma'am," said the cook, "you may please yourself about everything else, but we've done without a ---- for so long, that i must have one." "quite right," said her mistress. she then prepared for going out; and seeing that it looked like rain, took a ---- from the cupboard and on her head tied a ----. "bless your 'eart, mum," cried the cook, "you've forgot your smelling salts. suppose you was to feel faint--what then? never mind," she added, "this'll do just as well"--handing her a ----. miss flitters hurried off at such a pace that she ran right into the minister. "i beg your pardon," she exclaimed, "i mistook you for a ----." "may i come with you?" asked the minister. "most certainly," said miss flitters. they went first to buszard's for a ----, and selected two particularly juicy ones. then to marshall and snelgrove's for a ----. "is this for the complexion?" asked the minister, picking up a ---- from the counter. "la, sir," said miss flitters, "how little you know of domestic life!" then they went to fuller's for a ----, and to jay's for a ----. "it's too dear," said miss flitters. "give me a ----instead." at the stores they inspected ----. "haven't you anything fresher?" asked miss flitters: "i'd as soon buy a ----." none the less she bought two and slipped them into her reticule, adding as a little gift for the cook a ----. the party began at six o'clock. the first to come was miss kitters. "you don't mind my bringing my work, i know, dear," she exclaimed; "i'm embroidering a ---- for the natives of madagascar, and it must be done soon." miss litters came next, and being rather short-sighted, sat down on a ----. "never mind," said miss flitters. "oh, i don't," she replied, "but it would have been more comfortable if it had been a ----." miss mitters came just as the clock struck. she was wearing a charming ---- trimmed with ----. "what perfect taste she has!" the others murmured. miss nitters followed. miss nitters was the exact opposite of miss mitters in all matters relating to dress. she had no taste at all, and was wearing merely a ---- with pompons attached, and in place of earrings a couple of ----. "so fast!" whispered miss litters. miss pitters, miss ritters, and miss titters each brought a present. miss pitters's present was a silver-plated ----. "so useful for the toilet table," she said. miss ritters's was a japanese ----, a piece of exquisite workmanship; while miss titters produced from her pocket a brown paper parcel which turned out to contain a very choice ----, an heirloom in the titters family for centuries. "i didn't know whether to bring this or a ----," she said; "but father decided me. father always knows best." when all were assembled, the guests sat down to supper. but here an awkward thing happened. "if you please, mum," the cook was heard to whisper in a loud voice, "the ---- hasn't come. shall i get a ---- instead?" "yes," said miss flitters, "that will do very well. don't you think so, miss pitters?" "i think," was the reply, "i should prefer ----." it was none the less an excellent and generous repast. opposite miss flitters was a noble ----, flanked by a ---- and a ----. at the foot of the table was a dish of ----. "i never tasted anything so delicious in my life," said miss mitters, taking a large helping of ----. "oh!" said miss glitters, "you should try the ----. it's yumps." the first course was followed by sweets, the most imposing of which was a wonderful frosted ---- with miss flitters's name in pink sugar. "you must all have a piece," said the hostess, "but i'm afraid it's rather rich." after supper came games, "blind man's buff" and "hunt the slipper," but as no one cared to lend a slipper, they used instead a ----, and it did very well. at midnight the party broke up, the guests saying that they never had spent a pleasanter evening. as a protection against the cold miss flitters gave them each a hot ----. she then hurried to bed and dreamed all night of ----. thinking, guessing, and acting games the ship alphabet the players sit in a long row, as if in a class at school. the one that acts as schoolmaster asks sharply, beginning at one end, "the name of the letter?" "a," says the player. the schoolmaster turns to the next player, "the name of the ship?" and straightway begins to count ten very quickly and sternly. "andromeda," is perhaps rapped out before he reaches that number. "the name of the captain?" "alfred." "the name of the cargo?" "armor." "the port she comes from?" "amsterdam." "the place she is bound for?" "antananarivo." "the next letter?" "b," and so on. if the schoolmaster is very strict and abrupt with his questions and counting, he can drive every idea from the mind of the person he points at. if he counts ten before an answer comes, he passes on to the next, and the next, and the next, until the answer is given. the one who gives it moves up above those that failed. the game should be played rapidly. a variation on this is "when my ship comes in." this is played with a handkerchief knotted into a ball. any letter of the alphabet is chosen; say b. one player throws the handkerchief to another, crying out, "when my ship comes in it will be laden with ----." the player who catches the handkerchief must supply a cargo, beginning with b before ten is counted, bees, butterflies, belts, etc. if he fails to do this he gives a forfeit. when one letter is exhausted another is chosen and the game starts over. i love my love this is not played now as once it was. in the old way the players sat in a line and went steadily through the alphabet, each one taking a letter in order. this was the form:--"i love my love with an a, because he is [a favorable adjective beginning with a]. i hate him with an a because he is [an unfavorable adjective beginning with a]. he took me to the sign of the [an inn sign beginning with a], and treated me to [two eatables or an eatable and drinkable beginning with a]. his name is [a man's name beginning with a], and he comes from [a town or country beginning with a]." then b, and so on. a and b might run thus:-- i love my love with an a because he is adorable. i hate him with an a because he is apish. he took me to the sign of the alderman and treated me to arrowroot and ale. his name is arnold, and he comes from ayrshire. i love my love with a b because he is brisk. i hate him with a b because he is bookish. he took me to the sign of the beetle and treated me to biscuits and bovril. his name is brian, and he comes from boston. there is no reason why men should always be chosen. for the sake of variety the love may as well have a woman's name and a woman's qualities. in that case the inn might perhaps go and some such sentence as this take its place:-- i love my love with an a because she is amiable. i hate her with an a because she is awesome. we went to uncle alexander's, and had apricots and apollinaris. her name is audrey, and she comes from annapolis. as finding seven words beginning with one letter is rather a heavy task for each player, the words might be taken in turn, as in the case of the "ship" game mentioned above. for a shorter way of playing "i love my love" the following form is used:--"i love my love with an a because he--or she--is [favorable adjective]. i will send him--or her--to [some place] and feed him--or her--on [something to eat]. i will give him--or her--an [some article, the use for which must be mentioned after it], and a bunch of [some flower] for a nosegay." thus:-- i love my love with an a because he is artistic. i will send him to australia, and feed him on asparagus. i will give him an alpenstock to climb with, and a bunch of asters for a nosegay. my thought the players sit in a row or circle, and one, having thought of something--of any description whatever--asks them in turn, "what is my thought like?" not having the faintest idea what the thought is they reply at random. one may say, "like a dog"; another, "like a saucepan"; a third, "like a wet day"; a fourth, "like a comic opera." after collecting all the answers the player announces what the thought was, and then goes along the row again calling upon the players to explain why it is like the thing named by them. the merit of the game lies in these explanations. thus, perhaps the thing thought of was a concertina. the first player, asked to show why a concertina is like a dog, may reply, "because when it is squeezed it howls." the next may say, "it is like a heavy saucepan because it is held in both hands." the third, "it is like a wet day because one soon has enough of it"; and the fourth, "it is like a comic opera because it is full of tunes." p's and q's another old game of this kind is "p's and q's." the players sit in a circle and one stands up and asks them each a question in turn. the question takes this form, "the king of england [or france, or germany, or africa, or russia, or india, whatever country it may be] has gone forth with all his men. tell me where he has gone, but mind your p's and q's." the player who is addressed must then reply, naming, in whatever country is mentioned, some town that does not begin with p or q or with any letter before p in the alphabet. thus, if the question refers to england, he may say "salisbury" but not "bristol," "redruth" but not "oxford"; or to france, "toulon" but not "lyons," "versailles" but not "dieppe." the game is capable of improvement or, at least, of variety. for instance, instead of p's and q's, the questioner may say, "mind your k's and l's," or instead of ruling out all letters before p, all letters after q may be stopped. and one need not confine the game to geography, but may adapt it to include animals, or eatables, or books. the elements the players sit in a circle, and the game is begun by one of them throwing a rolled-up handkerchief to another and at the same time calling out the name of one of the four elements--air, water, earth, or fire. if "air" is called, the player to whom the handkerchief is thrown must at once mention some creature that flies. having done so she throws the handkerchief to some one else, calling perhaps "earth," whereupon that player must mention an animal that inhabits the earth. and so on. the same animal must not be mentioned twice, and when "fire" is called, the player to whom the handkerchief is thrown must keep silence until she throws it on again. sometimes each player, after throwing the handkerchief and calling the element, counts ten as the limit of time in which the answer must be given. if it is longer in coming, or if something is mentioned which has been mentioned before, then a forfeit follows. suggestions this is a game which people either dislike or like very much. the players sit round the fire or table, and one of them begins by naming an article of any kind whatever, such as watering-pot. the word "watering-pot" will immediately suggest something to the next player--say "gardener." he therefore says "gardener." the next is perhaps reminded by the word "gardener" of a bunch of violets she saw the gardener carrying that morning, and she therefore says "violets"; the next at once recollects finding violets when she was in the country last spring, and she therefore says "vermont." thus the game goes on for, say, ten rounds, by which time, as we have seen already, the minds of the players have been carried miles away from the original watering-pot which set them at work. it is now necessary to trace the series of suggestions back to watering-pot again. this is done by the last player mentioning, not the last thing that he thought of, but the thing which suggested that to him. (thus, the player next him may have said, in the last round, "an apple-core," which may have suggested to him "tom sawyer." he would not, however, when the task of retracing begins, say "tom sawyer," because to repeat your own words is too easy, but "an apple-core" and the next player, going backward, in his turn would repeat the word which suggested "an apple-core" to him.) the second part of the game, retracing the suggestions, is naturally more difficult than the first. in this game two things are very important. one is, that silence should be maintained; the other, that the word you give should be suggested to you only by the previous player's remark. also it is more fun to be quite honest about it, and really say what was first suggested, instead of making a choice. quotation games this is a game which requires some poetical knowledge. the players sit in a circle and one begins by repeating a line of poetry. the next caps it by repeating whatever line comes next to it in the poem from which it is taken. the poem may either be continued or the game may deal only in couplets or four-lined stanzas. in another quotation game the first player repeats a line of poetry and the next follows it with another line of poetry which begins with the last letter of the previous quotation. thus, if the first player says-- it was the schooner _hesperus_ that sailed the wintry sea, the next might cap it with-- a man's a man for a' that, and the next with-- the quality of mercy is not strained. two rhyming games rhyming games require more taxing of brains than most players care for. the ordinary rhyming game, without using paper, is for one player to make a remark in an easy metre, and for the next to add a line completing the couplet. thus in one game that was played one player said-- it is a sin to steal a pin, much more to steal an apple. and the next finished it by adding-- and people who are tempted to, with satan ought to grapple. but this was showing more skill than there is real need for. an easier rhyming game is that in which the rhyme has to come at the beginning of the line. the players are seated in a circle and one begins by asking the next a question of any nature whatever, or by making any casual remark, the first word of the answer to which must rhyme with the last word of the question. the game is then started, each player in turn adding a remark to that made by the one before him, always observing the rhyming rule. thus, the original question may be, "do you like mince _pies_?" the next player may reply, "_wise_ people always _do_." the next, "_you_, i suppose, agree with _that_?" the next, "_flat_ you may knock me if i _don't_." the next, "_won't_ you change the subject, _please_?" and the next: "_eas_-ily; let's talk of books." telling stories this is another of those fireside games that need more readiness of mind than many persons think a game should ask for. the first player begins an original story, stopping immediately (even in the middle of a sentence) when the player who is appointed time-keeper says "next." the next player takes it up; and so forth until the end comes, either at the end of the first round or whatever round seems best. another way is for each player to contribute only a single word; but this is rarely successful, because every one is not at the same pitch of attention. except on the part of the person who is narrating there ought to be absolute silence. clumps the company, according to the number of persons, divides up into two or three or even four groups, or clumps, in different parts of the room, seated closely in circles. as many players as there are clumps then go out and decide on some extremely out-of-the-way thing which the clumps have to guess. in one game, for example, the mine was thought of from which the iron was taken to lay the first railroad rails in america. that is the kind of far-fetched and ingenious thing. when it is decided upon, the players return to the room and take their places, one in the midst of each clump. questions are then put to them the answers to which must be either "yes" or "no," and the clump that discovers the thing first is the winner. other yes and no games the same game can be played without such keen rivalry, one player sitting in the midst of a great circle and answering questions in turn. there is also a game called "man and object," in which two players go out and decide upon a man (or woman) and something inanimate or not human with which he is associated or which he is known to have used, such as "washington and his hatchet," "whittington and his cat," "a druid and his mistletoe-knife." they then return and each player asks them each a question in turn until the problem is solved. the same game is sometimes turned inside out, the players that remain in the room deciding upon some one whom the player that has gone out has to personate and discover. in this case it is he who puts the questions. as he is supposed for the time being actually to be the thing thought of, he ought to frame his questions accordingly: "am i living?" "have i been dead long?" "am i a man?" and so forth. my right-hand neighbor this is a catch game and useless except when one of the company knows nothing about it. that player is sent out of the room, and after a due interval is called in again and told to guess what the other players have thought of. he may ask any questions he pleases that can be answered by "yes" or "no." the thing thought of is each player's right-hand neighbor, who is of course so different in every case as to lead in time to the total bewilderment of the guesser. how, when, and where one player leaves the room, while the others decide on some word, the name of a thing for choice (such as tale, tail), which has one pronunciation but two or three different meanings and perhaps spellings. they then sit in a circle or line and the other player is called in, his object being, by means of questions put in turn to each player, to discover what the word is. his questions must take the form, "how do you like it?" "when do you like it?" and "where do you like it?" let us suppose that "tale" is the word thought of. "how do you like it?" he will ask the first of the circle. the answer may be, "i like it amusing" (tale). "how do you like it?" he may ask the next. "i like it active" (tail). to the next, "when do you like it?" "i like it at night" (tale). to the next, "where do you like it?" "at the end" (tail). to the next, "where do you like it?" "in an armchair" (tale). and so on until he guesses the word. coffee-pot a similar game is called "coffee-pot" or "tea-pot." in this case also the company think of a word with more than one meaning, but instead of answering questions about it they make a pretense of introducing it into their answers by putting the word "coffee-pot" in its place. as the player who is guessing is at liberty to put any kind of question he likes it is well to choose a word that will go easily into ordinary conversation. let us suppose, for instance, that the word is rain, reign, rein. the questions and answers may run something like this:--"are you feeling pretty well to-day?" "i always feel well when there is no coffee-pot" (rain). "have you been reading anything interesting lately?" "yes, a very interesting book on the present coffee-pot" (reign). "i hope your toothache is better." "thank you, i hope its coffee-pot will soon be over" (reign). "did you walk here this evening?" "no; we came with the assistance of the coffee-pot" (rein). the guesser is allowed to make three guesses aloud, but after that he must meditate on the word in silence or put questions to test his theories. if the word is a verb and a past tense or present tense has to be used in an answer, the player says "coffee-potted" or "coffee-potting." throwing light this is much like "how, when, and where," except that instead of asking questions the player, or players, that went out sit still and listen to the others talking to each other concerning the selected word's various meanings. thus, if it is "spring," the first may remark, "it makes our drives so much more comfortable"; the next, "i am always happier then than at any other time"; the next, "to drink there is to know what drinking really is"; and so on. animal, vegetable, and mineral. this is also a similar game to "how, when, and where," except that the player who goes out of the room has, on his return, to guess something belonging to one of these three groups. his first question therefore is, "is it animal?" perhaps it is not. "is it vegetable?" "no." he knows then that it is mineral, and after that to find out what it is is only a matter of time. proverbs one or two players go out. the others sit in line and choose a proverb having as many words as there are players. thus, if there were eight players, "they love too much who die for love" would do; or if more than eight, two short proverbs might be chosen. each player having made certain what his word is, the others are called in. it is their duty to find out what proverb has been fixed upon, and the means of doing so is to ask each player in turn a question on any subject whatever, the answer to which must contain that player's word in the proverb. if the first round of questions does not reveal the proverb, they go round again and again. shouting proverbs in this game, instead of answering questions one by one, when the guesser or guessers come in the players at a given signal shout the words which belong to them at the top of their voice and all together. the guessers have to separate the proverb from the din. acting proverbs this is a very simple acting game. the players should divide themselves into actors and audience. the actors decide upon a proverb, and in silence represent it to the audience as dramatically as possible. such proverbs as "too many cooks spoil the broth," and "a bad workman quarrels with his tools," would be very easy--almost too easy if any stress is laid upon guessing. but, of course, although the guessing is understood to be part of the fun, the acting is the thing. acting initials two players go out. the others choose the name of a well-known person, public or private, the letters of whose name are the same in number as the players left in the room. thus, supposing there are seven persons in the room, the name might be dickens. the letters are then distributed; each player, as soon as he knows which letter is his, selecting some well-known living or historical character beginning with the same letter, whom he has to describe or personate. to personate is more fun than to describe. the players seat themselves in the right order to spell the name, and the other two are called in. when they are ready the first player, d, is called on to describe or impersonate his letter; and so on in the right order. acting verbs, or dumb crambo in this game the company divides into two. one half goes out, and the one that remains decides upon a verb which the others shall act in dumb show. a messenger is then despatched to tell the actors what the chosen word rhymes to. thus, if "weigh" were the verb fixed upon, the messenger might announce that it rhymes to "day." it is then well for the actors to go through the alphabet for verbs--bay, bray, lay, neigh, pay, prey, pray, play, stay, say; and act them in order. when the word is wrong the spectators hiss, but when right they clap. if the word chosen has two syllables, as "obey," notice ought to be given. guessing employments a very simple game. one player goes out. the others decide on some workman to represent, each pretending to do some different task belonging to his employment. thus, if they choose a carpenter, one will plane, one will saw, one will hammer, one will chisel, and so on. their occupation has then to be guessed. it is perhaps more interesting if each player chooses a separate trade. stool of repentance one player goes out. the others then say in turn something personal about him--such as, "he has a pleasant voice"; "his eye is piercing"; "he would look better if he wore a lower collar." those remarks are written down by one of the party, and the player is called in and placed on a chair in the middle. the recorder then reads the remarks that he has collected, and the player in the middle has to name the persons who made them. eyes a sheet, or a screen made of newspapers, is hung up, and two holes, a little larger than eyes and the same distance apart, are made in it. half the players retire to one side of it, and half stay on the other. they then look through the holes in turn, while those on the opposite side try to name the owner of the eyes. the game sounds tame, but the difficulty of recognition and the false guesses made soon lead to laughter. making obeisance this is a trick. those in the company who have never played the game go out of the room. one of the inside players, who is to represent the potentate, then mounts a chair and is covered with a sheet which reaches to the ground. at the point where it touches a shoe is placed, the toe of which is just visible. in the potentate's hand is a sponge full of water. one of the players outside is then invited in; he is told to kneel down and kiss the toe; the potentate on the chair leans forward a little to bring his sponge immediately over the subject's head; and a shower-bath follows. then another subject is admitted, but after a while there is enough water on the floor to make them suspicious. mesmerism another trick. the players who are to be mesmerized--among them being the one or two who do not know the game--stand in a row, each holding a dinner-plate in the left hand. the mesmerizer, who also has a dinner-plate, faces them, and impresses on them very seriously the importance, if they really want to be mesmerized, of doing exactly what he does and not moving their eyes from him in any direction. he then holds the plate flat, rubs the first finger of his right hand on the bottom of it, and makes an invisible cross on his forehead, on each cheek, and on the tip of his nose. that is all. the trick lies in the fact that the plates of the players who do not know the game have been held in the flame of a candle until they are well blacked. this means that when the mesmerism is over they each have black marks on their faces, and know nothing about it until they are led to a looking-glass. thought-reading tricks in all thought-reading games it is best that only the two performers should know the secret. of these two, one goes out of the room and the other stays in, after having first arranged on the particular trick which will be used. perhaps the company will then be asked to settle on a trade. let us say that they decide on a chemist. the other player is then called in, and his companion puts questions to him in this way:--"you have to name the trade which we have thought of. is it a grocer?" "no." "is it a draper?" "no." "is it a goldsmith?" "no." "is it a fruiterer?" "no." "is it a lawyer?" "no." "is it a chemist?" "yes." this will look rather mysterious to some of the company; but the thing is really simple enough. the questioner merely arranged with his companion that the trade thought of should follow a profession. perhaps on the next occasion the company will be asked to think of an article in the room. let us say that they fix on the clock. the questions will then run something like this:--"you have to name the article in this room which has been thought of. is it the piano?" "no." "is it the curtain-rod?" "no." "is it the carpet?" "no." "is it the fireplace?" "no." "is it the sideboard?" "no." "is it the armchair?" "no." "is it the clock?" "yes." this again is bewildering; but again the trick is very simple, the questioner having arranged that the article shall follow something that has four legs. a third way is for an article to be touched and for the thought-reader to be asked to name it. "is it this?" "is it this?" "is it this?" is asked of one thing after another, the answer always being "no." "is it that?" "yes." the secret is that the article touched is always signified by "is it that?" but in this case, and in that of the others already described, the effect of mystification can be increased by arranging beforehand that the article in question shall not follow the key phrase immediately, but, say, two questions later. a fourth way is for the questioner to begin each question in due order with a letter of the french word for the article touched. thus, if it were the bell, he might say, "_c_ome now, was it the table?" "_l_ook, was it the armchair?" "_o_r the piano?" "_c_ome now, was it this book?" "_h_ow about this hearth-rug?" "_e_ndeavor to be quick, please. was it the clock?" by this time "cloche" has been spelled, so that the next question is, "was it the bell?" "yes." in another form of "thought-reading" the two players who know the secret remain in the room long enough for the trick to be made sure. one stands in a corner and the other calls loudly, "ebenezer, do you hear?" (ebenezer is the usual name, but a more attractive one would do.) ebenezer says nothing, but listens attentively to hear who among the company speaks first. the other player repeats the question and still there is no answer. soon after that some one will perhaps make a remark, and then ebenezer, having got what he was waiting for, says, "yes, i hear." "then leave the room," says the other player, and ebenezer goes out. the other player then makes a great show of choosing some one to touch, but ends by touching the person who spoke first after the game began. this done, ebenezer is called in to say who was touched, and every one is puzzled by his knowledge. to guess any number thought of with these thought-reading tricks may be put one or two arithmetical puzzles. here is a way to find out the number that a person has thought of. tell him to think of any number, odd or even. (let us suppose that he thinks of .) then tell him to double it ( ), add to it ( ), halve it ( ), and multiply it by ( ). then ask him how many that makes. he will say . you divide this in your mind by ( ), subtract ( ), divide by again ( ), and astonish him by saying that the number of which he thought was . to guess any even number thought of in this case you insist on the number chosen being an even number. let us suppose it is . tell him to multiply by ( ), halve it ( ), multiply by again ( ), and then to tell you how many times will go into the result. he will say . double this in your mind and tell him that he thought of . to guess the result of a sum another trick. tell the person to think of a number, to double it, add to it, halve it and take away the number first thought of. when this has been done you tell him that remains. if these directions are followed must always remain. let us take and as examples. thus doubled is ; add and it is ; halved, it is ; and if the number first thought of-- --is subtracted, remains. again, doubled is ; added makes ; halved is , and from leaves . a more bewildering puzzle is this. tell as many persons as like to, to think of some number less than , , in which the last figure is smaller than the first. thus might be thought of, but not , and not . the amount being chosen and written down, you tell each person to reverse the digits; so that the units come under the hundreds, the tens under the tens, and the hundreds under the units. then tell them to subtract, to reverse again, and add; remarking to each one that you know what the answer will be. it will always be . let us suppose that three players choose numbers, one being , one , and one . each sets them on paper, reverses the figures, and subtracts. thus:-- --- --- --- the figures are then reversed and added. thus:-- ---- ---- ---- guessing competitions guessing competitions, which are of american invention, can be an interesting change from ordinary games. in some the company are all asked to contribute, as in "book teas," where a punning symbolic title of a book is worn by each guest, and a prize is given to the person who guesses most, and to the person whose title is considered the best. thus, a person wearing a card having the letter r represented _middlemarch_, and a person with catkins in his buttonhole, _hazell's annual_. but simpler devices are just as interesting. in other guessing competitions the preparations are the affair of the household which gives the party. it is with these that we are concerned here. giving prizes certainly adds to the interest of them. guessing quantities several articles of number are placed on a table, say a box of matches, a bag of beans, a reel of cotton or ball of string, a large stone, a stick, a photograph, and various coins with the date side turned down. each of the company is provided with a card on which these articles are written, and the object is to guess as nearly as possible something about each; for instance, how many matches there are in the box, how many beans in the bag, the length of the string, the weight of the stone, the length of the stick, the age of the person in the photograph, and the date of each coin. the right answers are, of course, ascertained beforehand and written on a card in the hostess's possession. observation the real name of this game may be something else, but "observation" explains it. a small table is covered with a variety of articles, to the extent of some twenty or thirty. it is then covered with a cloth and placed in the middle of the room. the players stand round it and the cloth is removed for a minute (or longer). during that time the aim of each player is to note and remember as many of the things as possible. the cloth is then put on again and the players have five minutes in which to write the fullest list they can of the objects seen. scents a more puzzling competition is to place a row of large bottles on the table, all numbered, at the bottom of each of which is a small amount of liquid bearing a noticeable scent. some may be toilet scents, and others medicines or essences used in cooking. a card numbered according to the bottles is given to each player, and the game is to guess as many of the scents as possible. the topsy-turvy concert the performers in this concert, who should be of nearly the same size, take their places behind a sheet stretched across the room at the height of their chins. they then put stockings on their arms and boots on their hands (or this may be done before they come into the room), and stand looking over the sheet at the company, with their hands and arms carefully hidden. the concert begins by the singing of the first verse of a song. immediately the verse is finished, the singers, stooping down so that their heads disappear from view, thrust up their arms and wave them about, the effect being that of a row of people standing on their heads. the chorus is thus sung. then they pull down their arms and put up their heads again and sing the next verse. the dancing dwarf this is a very amusing illusion and easy to arrange. all the players but two are sent out of the room and these stand behind a table. one stands close to the table, his arms in front of him so that the fingers rest on the table. boots, or stockings and shoes, are put on their arms and a long dark cloak is thrown over the shoulders of the first player covering the one behind him. the one behind furnishes the arms by thrusting his out in front. the little feet resting on the table show from the folds of the cloak and give the appearance of a dwarf. the players are then called back and the dwarf, whose face should be disguised, performs any feat that they ask for--he sings a song, or makes a speech or prophesies the future of any one who desires it, always ending with a wild dance performed by the arms and hands of the other person. the light should be turned down somewhat and the audience should be straight in front of the table to keep the illusion at its best. [illustration: the dancing dwarf] charades "charades" can be written in advance and carefully rehearsed, but in this book we are concerned more nearly with those that are arranged a few minutes (the fewer the better) before they are performed. as a rule a word of two or three syllables is chosen, the syllables are first acted, then the whole word, and then the audience guess what it was. sometimes the word is brought in, both in its complete form and in its syllables; and sometimes--and this is perhaps the better way--it is acted. thus, if the word were "treason," one way would be to make the acts themselves anything that occurred to you, merely saying "tree" with some distinctness in the first; "son" or "sun" in the second; and "treason" in the third. the other and more interesting way would be to make the first act relate to tree-felling or tree planting, or, say, a performance by mr. tree; the second to a son or the sun; and the third to some treasonable situation, such as, for example, the gunpowder plot. on account of the time which is occupied in preparing and acting it is better to choose two-syllabled words--which, with the whole word, make three scenes--than three- or four-syllabled ones; although there are certain four-syllabled words which split naturally into two halves of two syllables each. "parsimony," for example, could be performed: parsee, money, parsimony. as a general rule the charades that are arranged during the evening are better performed in dumb show, with plenty of action, than with any talking at all. under the circumstances gestures are so much easier than words and not any less amusing. dumb performances very good fun can be had also from impromptu pantomimes, where the performers enact some story which every one knows, such as "aladdin" or "red riding hood" or "cinderella"; or a scene from history proper, or from village or family history. the contrast between the splendor of cinderella's carriage in the story and the old perambulator which has to serve in the charade only adds to the fun. every one, being dumb, acts to the utmost. it is sometimes more amusing if all the parts are turned upside down and a boy plays the heroine and a girl the hero. where the scene is too tremendous for any representation to be given, it is best to meet the case frankly and use, as they did in shakespeare's day, written labels, such as "this is aladdin's palace." dressing up it is, of course, much more fun to dress up; but dressing up is not so important that a charade is spoiled without it. if, on the day of your party, you know that charades will play a part in it, it is wise to put in a convenient room a number of things suitable to dress up in. then at the last minute there need be no furious running up-stairs to pull things out of closets and boxes, and the unpleasantness will be avoided which sometimes follows when you have taken somebody's best clothes for a rather violent performance. almost the best garment there is for dressing-up purposes is a fur coat. while priceless for red riding hood's wolf it will make also most of the other animals in the zoo. a soldier's uniform is a great possession, and a real policeman's helmet has made the success of many charades. most kinds of hat can, however, easily be made on the morning of a party out of brown paper. epaulettes and cockades are also easily made of the same material. powder or flour for white hair, some corks for moustaches and beards (you hold them in the candle for a minute and wait till they are cool enough to use), and a packet of safety-pins should be in handy places. cherry tooth-paste makes serviceable rouge. tableaux vivants "tableaux vivants" are a change from acting, but they need, if done at all well, a great deal of preparation and rehearsal, and are therefore perhaps better left to older people. but quickly-arranged groups representing (not too seriously) scenes in american history might be good fun. remarks on acting the drawback to all charades and dressing up at a party is that they make away with so much valuable time of the players who are out of the room, and unsettle those who are left in. it should be the first duty of every one taking part in acting at parties to decide quickly on the subject or word, and to perform it quickly. many and many a party has been spoiled by the slowness of the actors outside. historical or family scenes with no dressing up and some action are perhaps better than much dressing up and absolute stillness. in "canute and the waves," for example, it is better that the incoming tide should be represented by a boy rolling slowly over the carpet than that there should be nothing but fixed eyes and stern faces. rainy-day games this is a chapter written to meet the needs of several children shut up together in bad weather. the chapter on "indoor occupation and things to make" gives suggestions for a single child, but here are a few suggestions for several occupations for a group of children, which do not mean the destruction of the furniture. any one of the games given in the chapter "in the train" is suitable for rainy days. there are of course many games treated elsewhere in this book which can be played on rainy days indoors. many of the parlor and outdoor games are equally suitable for indoors. all the card games and back-gammon, checkers, etc., are invaluable resorts in case of a long dreary day, but there are a few other recreations which, in some families are saved for such occasions. bean-bags one of these is the old fashioned game of bean-bag. one rainy morning can be spent in making the outfit. the girls can be occupied in making the cloth bags, from six to ten inches square, partly filled with beans: and the boys in making the board which is shown in the illustration. it should be about three feet square of any sort of boards and propped up at one side so that it forms an inclined plane. five holes are cut in it, about seven inches square, all but the centre one which is only five inches square. the players stand off from six to twelve feet according as their skill increases with practice and try to throw the bags through the holes. there are various rules for playing the game which you can arrange to suit yourself, or to make a change. one way is have the bags in sets of six, each six being of one color, different from the others. the players stand in a line and all throw at once, trying to get their six bags in the holes as soon as possible. when they have thrown their bags they rush up to the board, gather up those which have gone wild and run back to the firing line. the one who gets his six bags in first wins the game. a bag thrown through the small centre hole counts as two. [illustration: bean-bag board] another way to play it is to throw in turn, each throwing all his six bags one after another. the one who gets most in is the winner. ring-toss ring-toss is another game in which skill can be acquired only through practice and it is very good for rainy-days. it is really indoor quoits, and is a favorite game for shipboard. any one with a little patience and care can make the rings which are of rope fastened together with slanting seam, wound with string so that there is no bulging, overlapping hump at one side. [illustration: rope ring] a stake is nailed upright to a board (the stake can be a section of an old broom handle, or a smooth, small, straight peeled branch of a tree) and the outfit for the game is complete. it is played with the same rules as quoits (see "outdoor games for boys"), and a very considerable degree of skill can be obtained by practice. as in pitching quoits, the rings should be thrown with a little level twist to make them whirl about. ring-the-nail a variation of this can be played with common large nails and brass curtain rings. eight nails are driven into a board in a circle, leaving about an inch sticking up. in the centre, one is driven, standing about three inches tall. small rings, curtain rings, for instance, are thrown toward this. each time they encircle one of the lower nails is counted five, and the centre nail ten. soap-bubbles a soap-bubble race is easy to arrange and very good fun. an old shawl or blanket is laid on a table or the floor, goals are made at each end of it with piles of books, leaving an opening between, and each person is provided with a pipe for blowing bubbles. one bowl of soap-bubbles is enough for the company (see page on the best way to make lasting soap-bubbles). the game is to see who can most quickly blow a bubble, deposit it on the woolen cloth at one end and blow it through the goal at the other. of course you try to direct your puffs so that you will not only blow your own bubble along but will force your opponent's back. another way is to stretch a cord across the room and divide into two sides, standing three feet from the cord. at a given signal dip your pipes in the bowl of soap-suds, blow a bubble, and try to blow it over the cord. the side which succeeds in landing most bubbles in the enemy's territory wins. jack-stones a game which is good, quiet fun for a rainy day is jack-stones. although not played much nowadays it is very interesting and is to indoors what "mumble-the-peg" is to outdoors. it is played usually with small pieces of iron with six little feet: but it can also be played with small pebbles all of a size. all kinds of exercises can be used, many of which you can invent yourself but a few of the commonest are given below. . the five stones are thrown up and caught on the back of the hand. . four of the stones are held in the hand while one is thrown up. they must then be laid on the table, or floor, in time to catch the stone before it comes down. it is then thrown up again, and the four stones are picked up either one at a time or all together, and the stone caught again. nearly all the exercises are variations of this. one stone is thrown up and different things must be done quickly with the others before it falls again. tying knots another occupation for rainy days that will interest several children (as well as one) is puzzling out the construction of some of the simplest sailor's knots. this is a useful and a very desirable accomplishment. often several together can solve a difficult knot better than one, and after some proficiency is acquired it is interesting to have a competition to see who can tie them most quickly and perfectly. every one is supplied with a piece of clothes-line (the best rope for this purpose) and some one calls out "running noose," or "figure of eight." every one must then make this as quickly as possible. it is impossible to give directions in words about tying knots. the best way is to get clear illustrations and then work over them until you have mastered the intricacies. a few simple knots are shown here, but there are many books which give an almost endless variety. [illustration: fig. . overhand knot] [illustration: fig. . half-hitch] [illustration: fig. . figure of eight] [illustration: fig. . common bend] [illustration: fig. . sailor's knot] [illustration: fig. . running noose] [illustration: fig. . crossed running noose] [illustration: fig. . bowline knot] [illustration: fig. . dogshank] illustrating a competitive game which is easy to manage is hit-or-miss illustrating. any old magazine (the more the better) will furnish the material. figures, furniture, landscape, machines--anything and everything--is cut out from the advertisement or illustrations, and put in a box or basket in the middle of the table. every one is given a piece of paper and a proverb is selected for illustrating. twenty minutes is allowed to choose suitable pictures, to paste them on to sheets of paper and to add, with pencil, accessories that are necessary: and then results are compared. the variety and excellence of these patchwork pictures are surprising. this can be played during convalescence. it is not necessary to select a proverb for illustrating. any suggestive title will do. a few that have been found fruitful of varied and spirited pictures are given here. a trying moment. companions in misery. this is my busy day. "i didn't know it was loaded." his proudest moment. the unhappy experimenter. the best of friends. a great scare. fine weather for ducks. "won't you have some?" "don't we make a pretty picture?" too busy to stop. no harm done. "i didn't mean to do it." stage-struck. a great success. "see you later." a temporary quarrel. a narrow escape. a happy family. the peace-maker. a happy mother. shuffle-board a game which is often played on shipboard can be modified for an indoor, rainy day game very easily. this is shuffle-board, all the outfit for which you can easily make yourself. if you can have a long table that scratching will not injure your board is all ready, but you can easily procure a common, smooth-finished piece of plank, two feet wide, if possible, and four feet long. on one end mark a diagram like the preceding, about ten inches by eight inches. mark a line at the other end of the board about four inches from the edge, put your counters on the line and you are ready to play. the counters may be checkers (or any round pieces of wood) or twenty-five cent pieces, or large flat buttons, although discs of lead are the best because the heaviest. your pusher should be a little tool made especially, like the illustration, about a foot long, and anybody with a jack-knife can whittle a satisfactory "shovel" as it is called. [illustration] but if an impromptu game is desired, your counters may be pushed off with a common ruler, with a long lead-pencil, or even snapped with the finger nail, though this is apt to hurt. each player has six counters which he plays by three's, thus one person begins by shoving off three of his counters toward the board on the end, trying to make them fall on the places that count the highest. the next player then shoots three of his counters, trying not only to place his own men well but to dislodge his adversary's men if they are in good places. after all have played in turn, the first player shoots his other three counters and so on till all have played again. at the close of each round the board is inspected and each person is credited with the sum of the numbers on which his men rest. the game is continued thus, until some one has reached the limit set, which may be a hundred, or fifty, or any other number according to the skill of the players. the counters of each player may be distinguished from the others by any distinctive sign marked on them. they must not be pushed along but struck a sharp blow with your shovel. the head of your shovel must not pass the line marked for the counters. counters which rest on, or touch a line do not count. a very considerable degree of skill can be attained in this game and it is a never failing resource on dull days. a rainy day is a good time to practice various tricks and puzzles so as to perfect yourself in performing them. balancing tricks there are a number of balancing tricks which are easy and ingenious. the secret of most such tricks is in keeping the centre of gravity low, and when this idea is once mastered you can invent tricks to suit yourself. for instance a tea-cup can be balanced on the point of a pencil thus: put a cork through the handle of the cup (it should be just large enough to be pushed in firmly) and stick a fork into it, with two prongs on each side of the handle, and with the handle under the bottom of the cup. (fig. .) the centre of gravity is thus made low, and if you experiment a little and have a little skill, and a steady hand you can balance the whole on a pencil's point. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] or you can balance a coin edgeway on a needle's point. the needle is stuck firmly into the cork of a bottle, and the coin is fixed in a slit cut in a cork, in which two forks are stuck. (fig. .) the simplest of these tricks is to balance a pencil on the tip of your finger by sticking two pen-knives in it, one on each side. (fig. .) a cork with two forks stuck in it can be made to balance almost anywhere--on the neck of a bottle from which the contents are being poured for instance. (see fig. .) amusing toys can be constructed on this principle. tumbling dolls are made of light wood or cork, glued to the flat side of a half bullet. no matter how often they are knocked flat, they rise again at once. the dancing egg another good trick that needs a little practice is to make an egg dance. boil an egg hard, keeping it in an upright position (between cups set in the water or in some other way). then turn a plate bottom side up and put the egg on it. turn the plate around, more and more quickly, always holding it flat and level, and the egg will rise on its end and stand quite straight while it spins about. the dancing pea a pea can be made to dance on a column of air as you sometimes see a rubber ball rising and falling in a fountain of water. take a piece of a clay pipe about three inches long, and make one end into a little rounded cup, by cutting the clay carefully with a knife or file. then run two small pins cross-wise through a big, round pea, put the end of one pin in the pipe and hold the pipe in an upright position over your mouth. blow gently through the pipe and the pea will dance up and down. the glass-maker another trick to play with pins is the glass-making pin. cut an ordinary rubber band in two, and stick a bent pin through the middle of this. now hold an end of the elastic in each hand and whirl it rapidly around, stretching it a little. the revolving pin will at once assume the appearance of a tiny glass vase, or tumbler, and the shape can be varied at will. it is best to have a strong ray of light on the pin and the rest of the room darkened. [illustration: the glass-maker] electricity various tricks can be played by means of the electricity in paper. ordinary sealing wax, rubbed briskly on a coat-sleeve until it is warm will attract bits of tissue paper, or any other soft paper. a variation on jack-straws can be played by means of this trick. tiny scraps of tissue paper, each numbered, are piled in the centre of the table and each player by means of a piece of sealing wax tries to draw out the greatest number in the shortest time. this is a fascinating game and arranged impromptu in a very short time. the pieces of paper need not be of tissue paper, as any very thin paper will do. they should be about a quarter of an inch wide by an inch long and numbered up to twenty. they must be removed from the centre pile and put in piles before the players without touching with the fingers. it will be found that shaking them off the sealing wax is often harder than making them stick to it. of course an effort should be made to secure those pieces of paper which have the largest numbers on them, as a few of these count more than many of the others. electric dancers are easy to make. cut little figures out of tissue paper and lay them on the table. put on each side of them two books and lay a sheet of glass over them about an inch and a half above them. rub the glass briskly with a flannel cloth and they will jump up and down. [illustration: electric dancers] a rubber comb rubbed with a silk handkerchief will attract small bits of paper, feathers or wool. various games and tricks can be devised by this means, such as "bringing the dead to life," _i. e._, raising paper figures to an upright position from a grave made of books, or a box. outdoor games for girls outdoor games for girls and outdoor games for boys are very often the same, although they are separated here for the sake of convenience. battledore and shuttlecock "battledore and shuttlecock" is equally good for one player or for two. the only game to be played is to see how long the shuttlecock can be kept in the air. if you are alone the best way is to set yourself a number, say a hundred, and persevere until you reach it. this can be varied by striving to reach, say, thirty, by first hitting the ball each time as hard as possible, and then hitting it very gently so that it hardly rises at all. jumping rope ordinary skipping is good enough fun for most of us, but for those who are not satisfied with it there is skipping extraordinary, one feat of which is now and then to send the rope round twice before you touch the ground again. to do this, as it cannot be done with a mere rope, you must make a new rope of whipcord, in the middle of which you place a small chain about a foot long. this chain gives the weight necessary for whirling the rope very swiftly through the air. tom tiddler's ground the player who is first going to be tom tiddler stands or sits inside the part of the garden (or room) marked off for him, pretending to be asleep. the others venture on his ground, crying, "here we are on tom tiddler's ground, picking up gold and silver." as tom still sleeps they grow bolder and bolder until he suddenly awakens and dashes for them. the one that is caught becomes tom tiddler. tom may not cross the boundary-line. old stone another "tom tiddler's ground." one player crouches down pretending to be a stone. the others run round about her, gradually, as she shows no sign of life, getting nearer and more bold. the stone suddenly leaps up and begins to chase them, and the one caught is the old stone. hen and chickens even more exciting than "tom tiddler's ground" is "hen and chickens." in this game one player represents a fox and sits on the ground looking sly and hungry. the others, who are the hen and chickens, form a procession, holding each other's skirts or coats by both hands, and march past the fox, saying in turn-- chickany, chickany, crany crow, i went to the well to wash my toe, and when i came back a chicken was dead. then they leave go of each other and stand round the fox, and the leader, the hen, says, "what are you doing, old fox?" the fox replies, "making a fire"; and the conversation goes on like this:-- the hen: what for? the fox: to boil some water. the hen: what is the water for? the fox: to scald a chicken. the hen: where will you get it? the fox: out of your flock. with these words the fox springs up and the hen and chickens run in all directions. the chicken that is caught becomes the new fox, and the old fox is the new hen, the leader of the procession. the same game is played by essex children with an old woman in place of the fox, and with different words. in this case the hen and chickens make a procession in front of a player who personates an old weeping woman. as they march by, the hen sings-- chickens, come clock, come clock, come clock, chickens, come clock, come clock, come clock, the hawks are away and the crows are asleep, it's time that my chickens had something to eat. then they leave go of each other and stand round the old weeping woman, and between her and the hen the following conversation is held: the hen: what are you crying for, my poor old woman? the old woman: because i've lost my needle. the hen: what do you want a needle for? the old woman: to sew a bag with. the hen: what do you want a bag for? the old woman: to put salt in. the hen: what do you want salt for? the old woman: to scour a saucepan. the hen: what do you want a saucepan for? the old woman: to boil one of your chickens in. the old woman then leaps up and tries to catch a chicken, and the hen tries to stop her. other garden games many of the games described in other parts of this book are good also for the garden; such as "still pond! no more moving!" (p. ), "puss in the corner" (p. ), "honey-pots" (p. ), "nuts in may" (p. ), "here i bake" (p. ), "lady queen anne" (p. ), "the mulberry bush" (p. ), and "looby, looby" (p. ). witches "witches" is a home-made game played thus, according to the description of e. h.--"one player is made witch. a good spot is chosen for home, and here the others wait until the witch has had time to hide. the idea is that the country round is preyed upon by the witch, home being the only place where she has no power. the rest of the children have to explore the witch's country without being caught by her. it must be a point of honor to leave no suspicious place unexamined. the child chosen for witch need not be a particularly fast runner, but she must be clever and a good dodger. any one that the witch succeeds in touching is at once turned to stone and may not stir except as she is moved about by the witch, who chooses a spot to stand her victim in as far removed from home as possible. the stone can be released only by some other child finding her and dragging her safely home, where the spell ceases to act. but until actually home the victim remains stone, so that if the rescuer is surprised by the witch and lets go her hold, the stone has to stand where she is left and is so recovered by the witch. the witch must not, of course, guard her prisoners too closely. she ought to try and intercept the rescuers on their way home, rather than spring upon them in the act of finding the stone. but each time the stone is recovered the witch may place her in a more inaccessible spot, so that it becomes more and more dangerous to release her. sometimes at the end of the game all the children are turned to stone in different parts of the garden, but sometimes, of course, a swift runner will outstrip the witch and drag the victim safely home. a clever witch acts the part too--appearing and disappearing suddenly, prowling about in a crouching attitude, making gestures of hate and rage, and so on." the ballad game another home-made game is described by e. h. thus:--"the game is taken from the player's favorite ballads. in our play the eldest of the four players, who was also the best organizer, represented the cruel father. the youngest little girl was the fair damsel. the other two represented the wicked lover and the faithful knight, the part of the faithful knight being taken by the fleetest of the party to balance the combination of the father and the wicked lover. the game begins by the fair damsel being imprisoned in the coach-house because she refuses to marry the wicked lover. (of course any shed would do.) here she waits until her knight comes to rescue her, and they escape together, pursued by the other two. if the lovers succeed in getting away the story has a happy ending; but the more dramatic ending is the tragic one, when the faithful knight is overtaken, and after killing the cruel father and the wicked lover, himself dies of his wounds, the fair damsel slaying herself with his sword over his dead body. "the interest of this game is greatly increased by having retainers. these are armies of sticks which are planted at particular corners. there must be some mark by which your own retainers can be distinguished from the enemy's. for instance, the faithful knight may have peeled sticks and the others unpeeled. if, when charging round the house, you come across a troop of the enemy's retainers, you cannot go on until you have thrown them all down, as they are set to guard the pass. so, if the lovers are escaping and they find their way blocked by the father's retainers (the father and the wicked lover may have separate sets of retainers, in which case the war is always bitterest between the two rivals, as the father's retainers are sometimes spared for the damsel's sake), they have to lose time by first overcoming the retainers and that gives time to their pursuers to come up. but if they are so far in advance that they can stop to set up their own retainers in the place of the enemy, it serves to give them further time to make good their escape, as the others have to wait to overthrow the knight's sticks in their turn. in no case are you allowed to take away your enemy's sticks. if the lovers are overtaken, the rivals have to fight, and meanwhile the father once more carries off and imprisons the damsel." counting-out rhymes to decide who is to begin a game there are various counting-out rhymes. all the players stand in a circle, surrounding the one who counts. at each pause in the rhyme (which occurs wherever a stroke has been placed in the versions which follow) this one touches the players in turn until the end is reached. the player to whom the last number comes is to begin. this is one rhyme:-- eena-a, | deen-a, | dine-a, | dust, | cat'll-a, | ween-a, | wine-a, | wust, | spin, | spon, | must | be | done, | twiddlum, | twaddlum, | twenty-one. | o- | u- | t | spells | out. | others:-- intery, | mintery, | cutery | corn, | apple | seed | and | apple | thorn; | wine, | brier, | limber | lock, | five | geese |in | a | flock; | sit and sing | by a spring | o- | u- | t | and | in | again. | one-ery, | two-ery, | ziccary | zan; | hollowbone, | crack-a-bone, | ninery, | ten; | spittery | spot, | must | be | done, | twiddledum, | twaddledum, twenty-one. ring | around | a ring-pot, | one spot | two spot | three spot | san | bob-tailed | winnie-wack | tittero | tan | ham | scram | fortune | man | singum | sangum | buck! | daisy chains the old way of making a daisy chain is to split one stalk and thread the next through it up to the head, as in this drawing. that is for out-of-doors. if you are using the chain for decorations indoors, it is perhaps better to cut off the stalks and thread the heads on cotton; but there seems to be no great need to use daisies in this way at all. [illustration: daisy chain] an ivy chain is made by passing the stalk of one leaf through the point of another and then bending it round and putting it through the point of its own leaf, the hole thus made being used for the stalk of the next, and so on, as in this drawing. [illustration: ivy chain] flower show a flower-show competition is an excellent garden game. a handkerchief on sticks forms the tent. underneath this is a bed of sand in which the flowers, singly or in groups, can be fixed. some one can easily be persuaded to come out of the house to act as judge. garden shop shop in the garden or out-of-doors is played with various things that resemble articles of food. thus you can get excellent coffee from sorrel, and capital little bundles of rhubarb can be made by taking a rhubarb leaf and cutting the ribs into stalks. small stones make very good imitation potatoes, and the heads of marguerite daisies on a plate will easily pass for poached eggs. flower symbols in this place a word might be said about some of the curious things to be found in flowers and plants. if you cut the stalk of a brake fern low down, in september, you find a spreading oak tree. the pansy contains a picture of a man in a pulpit. a poppy is easily transformed into an old woman in a red gown. the snap-dragon, when its sides are pinched, can be made to yawn. the mallow contains a minute cheese. by blowing the fluff on a dandelion that has run to seed you can tell (more or less correctly) the time of day. an ear of barley will run up your sleeve if the pointed end is laid just within it; and an apple's seeds make exquisite little mice. summer houses if the garden has no summer-house or tent a very good one can be made with a clothes-horse and a rug. outdoor games for boys this book is written for children who need help in amusing themselves. it is natural that there should be some difficulty about thinking of games for indoors, or when there is a problem of a large company to amuse; but it is hard to imagine any healthy boy, turned loose out of doors, who cannot take care of his own entertainment. the number of things to do is without limit and the boy so uninventive as to be at a loss with all outdoors before him must be in a sad way. hence there has been no effort made in this chapter to make an exhaustive list of outdoor games, only those being given which are suggestive, that is, which can be infinitely varied according to your ingenuity; which are, so to speak, the first of a series. also, the rules of regular games are not given here (such as baseball, football, hockey, etc.). there are plenty of small manuals, given away with the outfits for these games, which print in much more detail than would be possible here, their principles. more than that, most boys absorb a general knowledge of these games through their pores, and need a book only to settle some small, knotty, disputed point of ruling. one of the best things to have when out of doors is a ball. there is no end to the uses one can make of it. ball games the simplest thing to do with a ball is to catch it; and the quicker one is in learning to catch well the better baseball player one will become. ordinary catching in a ring is good, but the practice is better if you try to throw the ball each time so that the player to whom you throw it shall not need to move his feet in order to catch it. this teaches straight throwing too. long and high throwing and catching, and hard throwing and catching (standing as close together as you dare), are important. there is also dodge-catching, where you pretend to throw to one player and really throw to another and thus take him unawares. all these games can be varied and made more difficult by using only one hand, right or left, for catching. ball games alone a boy with a ball need never be very lonely. when tired of catching it in the ordinary way he can practice throwing the ball straight into the air until, without his moving from his place, it falls absolutely on him each time. he can throw it up and catch it behind him, and if he has two others (or stones will do) he can strive for the juggler's accomplishment of keeping three things in the air at once. every boy should practice throwing with his left hand (or, if he is already left-handed, with his right): a very useful accomplishment. if it is a solid india-rubber ball and there is a blank wall, he can make it rebound at different angles, one good way being, in throwing it, to let it first hit the ground close to the wall's foot. he may also pledge himself to catch it first with the right hand and then with the left for a hundred times; or to bat it up a hundred times with a tennis racket or a flat bit of board. an interesting game for one is to mark out a golf course round the garden, making a little hole at intervals of half a dozen yards or so, and see how many strokes are needed in going round and getting into each hole on the way. races all kinds of races are easy to arrange and these can be repeated from day to day as your proficiency increases. here are a few. the spanish race, sometimes called the wheelbarrow race, is played by forming the boys into two lines, one standing back of the other, and the front row on their hands and knees. at a signal to begin, each boy on the back row takes hold of the ankles of the boy is front of him and lifts his knees off the ground. the boy in front walking on his hands, and the boy behind trundling him along, make the greatest haste possible. the pair who first reach the goal are the winners. races may be run, hopping on the right foot, or on the left, or with both together, or with first a hop and then a jump. it is well to appoint one of the boys umpire during these odd races, to see that they are run fairly and none of the rules agreed upon are broken. a sack race is fun. each boy is tied into a gunny sack and shuffles his way to the goal. a substitute for this is the three-legged race, run by two boys. they stand side by side, and the right leg of one is tied to the left leg of the other and so with three legs between them they must somehow get to the goal. hands and knees races, backward races (run with your back to the goal), races with burdens on your back, or balancing a pole across your hand or on the tip of your finger--there is no limit to the ones you can invent. but the best ones, after all, are the plain old trials of speed. there is no more fun than a good running race, and a walking race is next to it. bicycle races are apt to be dangerous and a course that is very wide should always be selected. quoits quoits is a game not played as much as it should be by american boys. it is easy to arrange, for although there is an outfit sold in the toy shops, a home-made one is just as good. it consists of a collection of horseshoes and a stake driven in the ground--certainly not a difficult apparatus to assemble. the stake should not project more than an inch above the ground and the players, according to the grown-up rules, should stand about fifteen yards away from the stake (which is usually called "the hub"). but for boys the distance from the hub can be determined by your skill. you may increase it as you improve with practice. every player has a certain number of quoits (horseshoes) and standing at a fixed distance from the hub he tries to pitch them so that they will go as near as possible to the hub. some very good players can cast a quoit so that it falls about the hub. this is called a "ringer" and counts ten, but it is a rare shot. every one pitches his quoits and then all go to the hub and reckon up the score. the one whose quoits lie nearest to the hub counts one point for each quoit, but each quoit entitled to count must be nearer the hub than any of the opponents' quoits. this continues until the score is complete. people usually play for eleven. this game can be played with flat stones instead of horseshoes and with any rules that you choose to make. duck on a rock duck on a rock is a variation of quoits which is excellent fun. one of the players, chosen by counting out, puts a stone (called in this game the "duck") about as big as his fist, on the top of a smooth rock and stands near it. all the other players have similar "ducks" and try to dislodge the one on the rock by throwing their stones, or ducks at it. as soon as each has thrown his duck he tries to watch his chance to run up to it and carry it back before the player standing by the rock can touch him. when some one knocks off the duck from the rock the "it" (the player by the rock) must put it back before he can tag any of the players. this is therefore, of course, the great time for a rush of all the players to recover their ducks and get back to their own territory before the "it" can tag them. if any player is touched by the "it" while attempting to rescue his duck he must become "it" and put his duck on the rock. bowling bowling is the best of sports but this usually needs too much apparatus for the average boy to have. nine pins, however, can be arranged in a rough sort of a way, by setting up sticks and bowling at them with round apples. your own ingenuity will devise ways to use the materials you find about you. hop-scotch hop-scotch is a great favorite which scarcely needs a description, although there are various ways of marking the boards. the game is played by any number of persons, each of whom kicks a small stone from one part to another of the diagram by hopping about on one foot. the diagram is drawn on a smooth piece of ground with a pointed stick or on a pavement with a bit of chalk. the most usual figure is given here. to begin, a player puts a pebble or bit of wood into the place marked , and then, hopping into it with his right foot, he kicks the counter outside the diagram. then hopping out himself, he kicks it (with the foot on which he is hopping) into the part marked . he hops through to , kicks the counter out again, and follows it out. this continues until he has kicked the counter in and out of every space in the diagram, without stepping on a line, or so casting the counter that it rests on a line. if this occurs he is put back a space, and it is the turn of the next player. each one plays until he has made a fault, and when it is his turn again, he takes up the game where he left off. the one who first gets through the required figures is the winner. [illustration] there is literally no end to the variations of this game, either in the diagram used or in the rules. sometimes when people become very skilful they play it backward, and sometimes at the end the player is required to place the pebble on his toe and kick it in the air, catching it in his hand. strength tests various trials of strength are good for boys out of doors, provided rules are fixed and adhered to. cane-spreeing is good sport, but should only be tried by boys pretty well matched in size and strength. a cane (or broom-stick) about three feet long is held by two boys facing each other, each with a hand on each end of the cane, the respective right hands being outside the lefts, that is, nearest to the end. then one tries to get the cane away from the other. it sounds simple, but there are a great variety of strategic tricks to be learned by practice. no struggle should last more than two minutes by the watch, when the boys should stop and get breath. the feet are not used, but it is quite allowable to use your body, if you get down on the ground in a sort of wrestling. hare and hounds hare and hounds can be played either in the country or the city and is fine fun, although it should be begun with a short run. in the excitement of the chase boys are apt to forget, and over-strain themselves. the "hares" are two players who have a bag of small paper pieces which they scatter after them from time to time as they run. they are given a start of five or ten minutes and then all the others, who are the "hounds," start after them, tracing their course by the bits of paper. in the city the hares take a piece of chalk and mark an arrow on the wall thus ----> showing in which direction they have gone. good stout shoes should be worn to run in, or you will blister your feet. dog-stick a game for city pavements or for smooth country roads has so many names that it is difficult to say which is its right one, but a common one is "dog-stick." it is played something like hockey, the aim being to get a ball or counter over your opponent's goal line. the ball in this case is not a ball but a piece of wood which you can make yourself, of an odd shape. it is like a flattened ball with a tail to it. with a club or stick you strike the tail so that the ball springs up in the air and then before it falls you strike it with your club toward your enemy's goal line. the players are divided into sides who try to defend their goal lines and to send back the ball to the other side. make your own rules as experience teaches you is fair. other games the endless variations of leap-frog should not be forgotten in devising outdoor games: and tournaments of long or broad jumping and high jumping are good. stilts and the games to be arranged with them are also another great resource. and the seasons bring, as regularly as flowers and snow, the round of tops, and kites and marbles. of these last a very summary account is given here as most boys and regions have their own rules. marbles the first thing to learn in "marbles" is the way that the marble should be held. of course one can have very good games by bowling the marble, as if it were a ball, or holding it between the thumb-nail and the second joint of the first finger and shooting it with the thumb from there; but these ways are wrong. the correct way is to hold it between the tip of the forefinger and the first joint of the thumb. marbles are divided into "taws," or well-made strong marbles with which you shoot, and "clays," or the ordinary cheap colored marbles at which you aim and with which you pay your losses. ring taw two or three boys with marbles could never have difficulty in hitting on a game to play with them, but the best regular game for several players is "ring taw." a chalk ring is made on as level a piece of ground as there is, and each player puts a clay on it at regular distances from each other. a line from which to shoot during the first round is then drawn two yards or so from the ring, and the game begins by the player who has won the right of leading off (a real advantage) knuckling down on the line and shooting at one of the marbles in the ring. if a player knocks a marble out of the ring, that marble is his and he has the right to shoot again from the place where his taw comes to a stand; but if in knocking a marble out of the ring his taw remains in it (or if his taw remains in it under any condition whatever), he has to put all the marbles he has won into the ring, in addition to one for a fine, and take up his taw and play no more till the next game. there is one exception to this rule: if only one marble is left in the ring, and if, in knocking it out, a player's taw remains in the ring, he does not suffer, because the game is then over. the other two rules are these: if a player succeeds in hitting the taw of another the owner of that taw not only must leave the game but hand over any marbles he has won. (in no case are taws parted with.) also, if it happens that only two players are left, and one of these has his taw hit, that ends the game, for the player who hit it not only has the marble of the taw's owner but all the marbles left in the ring too. "ring taw" can be played by as few as two players; but in this case they must each put several marbles in the ring. to decide which player is to begin, it is customary for them all to aim at the ring from the knuckling-down line, and whichever one places his taw nearest to the middle of the ring has the right to lead. other games other garden games for boys will be found in the picnic section. we might mention also "steps" (p. ), "tug of war" (p. ), and "potato races" (p. ). picnic games a picnic may be either a complicated affair which has occupied you all the day before, or the most impromptu expedition which you arrange on the spur of the minute; and the last kind are often more fun. any place out of doors will answer for a picnic, but if possible it should be near water. anything will answer for a picnic lunch, but it is pleasant, if older people are with you, if you are allowed to have fires to do some outdoor cooking. this is always easier than it sounds and adds infinitely to the fun of the lunch. bacon is one of the easiest things to cook outdoors, all that is needed being a forked stick which you can cut for yourselves. the strip of bacon is impaled on the forks and toasted over the fire, each person cooking his own slice and eating it on bread. or with two larger forked sticks a steak can be deliciously broiled for the whole company, or chops can be cooked. it is the easiest and most delightful task to arrange a sort of cooking-hole of stones over which the coffee pot may be set and potatoes may be boiled over another similar hole. you will find that it is far better to have a number of very tiny little fires entirely separated from each other, than one big bonfire which is almost sure to grow unmanageable. it will be seen that it is far easier to take a big piece of bacon (to be sliced after reaching the picnic grounds) a loaf or two of bread and raw potatoes than to spend hours in making sandwiches and packing cake. beside the things cooked out of doors always taste so much better. great care should be taken to put out every spark of fire before going home, and to leave no scraps of paper, or egg-shells lying about. these should be burned or buried. it, touch last, or tag for a short time "it" is a good warming game. it is the simplest of all games. the "it" runs after the others until he touches one. the one touched then becomes "it." touchwood the name explains the game, which is played as "it" is played, except that you can be caught only when you are not touching wood. it is a good game where there are trees. it is, of course, not fair to carry a piece of wood. cross tag this is the ordinary "tag," save that if, while the "it" is chasing one player, another runs across the trail between him and the pursued, the "it" has to abandon the player he was at first after and give chase to the one who has crossed. a good variety of tag is "french tag." the first one caught must join hands with the "it," the next one with him, etc., and so on in a long line all running together. any one can catch an opponent, but the original "it" must touch him before he can take his place in the line. the little dog the players form a ring, leaving one outside, who passes round it singing, "i have a little dog and he won't bite you," and as he does so, touching each player in turn with a knotted pocket-handkerchief. "and he won't bite you," "and he won't bite you," he calls to one after the other, and then suddenly changes this to "but he will bite _you_." the player touched when this is said has to run after the toucher with all his might. when caught they change places. hunt the squirrel all the players except one join a ring. this one, with a knotted handkerchief in his hand, walks round the outside of the ring for a while, and then, dropping the handkerchief behind one of the players, runs off crying-- hunt the squirrel through the wood. now i've lost him--now i've found him! hunt the squirrel through the wood. the player behind whom the handkerchief was dropped must catch the squirrel before he can take up the empty place in the ring left by the pursuer. it is more fun if, in dropping the handkerchief, it can be done without the player discovering it for a little while. the way in which old-fashioned country children play this game (called usually "drop the handkerchief"), is a little different. as the one with the handkerchief walks around and around the outside of the ring all join in singing, "a tisket! a tasket! a green and yellow basket! i sent a letter to my love and now i find i've lost it. i've lost it! i've lost it! and where do you think i found it? up in the sky, ever so high with angels gathered 'round it." as the words "i've lost it!" are repeated, the player outside must drop the handkerchief, but no one must look behind him until the verse is ended. then the one who finds the handkerchief behind him must try to catch the first one, who in turn tries to slip into the empty place. gaps the players form a ring: all except one, who is "it." this one runs round the ring and touches one of the players in the circle. they both set off running immediately in opposite directions, the object of each being to get first to the gap made in the circle by the player who was touched. the one who gets to the gap first remains in the circle, while the other becomes "it." twos and threes, or terza a very good picnic game. all the players except two form a large ring, standing in twos, one behind another. of the two who are over, one is the pursuer and the other the pursued; and the game is begun by the pursued taking up his position (if he can do so before the pursuer catches him) in front of one of the couples in the ring, thus making three. directly he does this he is safe, and the last player in the little group at the back of him has to run. whoever is caught becomes the pursuer, while the one that caught him becomes the pursued until, by standing in front of one of the couples, he transfers that office to another. hide and seek "hide and seek," which is perhaps the best out-of-door game without implements, needs no explanation. it is usual to give the player who hides a start of as much time as it takes the others to count a hundred in. some boys, instead of counting from one to a hundred, divide the sum into ten tens, which are counted thus: , , , , , , , , , ; , , , , , , , , , ; and so on. these can be rattled through so quickly that your is done and you have started out before, in the ordinary way, seventy would have been reached. a customary arrangement to avoid taking the hiders too much by surprise is for the boy who stays at the base and counts a hundred to call out when he finishes "bushel of wheat! bushel of rye! all that aren't ready call out 'i'!" or simply "one! two! three! look out for me!" i spy "i spy" combines "hide and seek" and "tag." one player stays in the base, covers his eyes and counts a hundred, while the others run off and hide. on finishing the hundred the player shouts "coming!" and runs out to look for the others. directly he catches sight of one of them (and they are not hidden so carefully as in "hide and seek"), he calls out his name and the place where he has seen him; as, for instance, "harry! behind the summer-house!" if there is no mistake and the name is right (it is very often wrong, in which case the player does not move), harry has to run out and try and catch the other before he reaches the base. another way is for as many players to seek as to hide. in this case it is agreed beforehand as to how many of the seekers must be caught by the hiders for the game to be won. if the number is given at four and four are caught, the same side have the privilege of hiding again; but if only three or a smaller number, then the seekers have won and it is they who hide next time. chevy, or prisoner's base there is no better running game than this. you first pick sides and then mark off the two camps and take up your station there. the field is arranged thus:-- place for | | place for a's | | b's prisoners. | | prisoners. ------------+ +------------ ---------------------------+-------------------------- | a's camp. | b's camp. | | the game is opened by several of the a side running out to some point immediately in front of the two camps. when ready they call "chevy." as many of the b side then start out to pursue them, each calling his particular quarry by name. the object of each a man is either to get back before the b man who is after him can catch him, or to tempt the b man into ground so near the a camp that he may be caught. in this aim he is helped by the fact that directly his b pursuer called his name and started out another a man probably called out the name of the b man and started to cut him off. no one is allowed to be pursued by two players at once. if caught, the a man has to go to the place reserved for b's prisoners. directly he gets there he calls "rescue"; an a man will then call "prisoner," and rush out to relieve him; while a b runner is all ready to intercept this a rescuer if he can. the game is good both for runners who can keep it up a long time and for those who can make short, sharp dashes. the first named decoy the enemy out in pursuit, and the others hold themselves ready to dash across in front of the enemy's camp and cut off any one who is across the line. the rule as to shouting the name of the man you have marked down should be kept. if there is more than one prisoner they stand just touching hands, in a line which reaches as far as possible toward their own camp, so that the distance between the first prisoner and the rescuer may be shortened. each new prisoner takes up his place at the back of this line, farthest from the camp. a prisoner is rescued by being touched. if one side is much weaker than the other a time comes when it is nearly all taken prisoner, with none to rescue except by leaving the camp undefended. directly a camp is left undefended one of the enemy steps in and "crowns" it and claims the game. more often than not, however, a game of "chevy" is left undecided. it does not matter in the least, for in this game the fun is more in playing than in winning. french and english for this game the ground must be divided by a path or line into two territories--french and english. at the further side of each territory a number of flags--handkerchiefs will do--must be placed at intervals. the players are then divided into the two nations, and the game consists in each side trying to get the flags from the other side, to guard its own, and to catch the enemy when he is off his own ground. once a player sets foot upon the enemy's territory he must go on, but he cannot be caught if he has a flag in his hands. if he is caught he becomes a prisoner (as in chevy), and is only released by being touched by one of his own party. a player cannot redeem a prisoner and take a flag at the same time. the game ends when all the flags of one side have been taken. black man this is rather rough. a line is drawn at each end of the playing place and one player is told off to stand between these lines. the object of the others is to run across, from base to base, without being caught by him: being caught meaning not merely being touched, as in "it," but being really held and stopped. each one that is caught has to stay in the middle to help catch the others, until no one is left to run across at all. the player in the middle calls out to the crowd of players, "what'll you do when the black man comes?" and they answer, "run right through and never mind you." this is the signal to begin each rush across from one line to the other. stagarino "stagarino" is similar to "black man," except that all the players who are caught, and whose business it is to catch the others, join hands. those that run across have therefore to avoid them or to try and break through the wall of arms. red rover "red rover" is also similar to "black man," except that instead of all running at the same time, the "rover" calls out:-- "red rover! red rover! let (mentioning name) come over!" at which the one named has to run from one base to the other. if he is caught, he must assist the "rover" in catching the others. hop, step, and jump this is a change from ordinary racing. the competitors, instead of running against each other, see which can cover the most distance in a hop, a step, and a jump, or, say, three hops, three steps, and three jumps. it needs an umpire to watch very carefully that the step begins exactly where the hop left off and the jump where the step finished. follow-my-leader this needs no explaining. it is nearly always good fun for a while, and particularly so if the leader has original ideas. out for a walk on country walks, where there is much to see, one should not be in need of ways to make the time seem shorter. and new walks in the town, or walks where there are interesting shop-windows, are not dull. but the same walks again and again can be very tiring; and it is to help these that the methods which follow have been collected. a good walking pastime for two is for one to drive the other. hoops are a great help (see p. ) and so are dolls' perambulators. but on many walks nothing of this kind is allowed, and one has to fall back on conversation. telling stories in turns, or making up stories about passers-by, is useful, but it is not every one that is able to do this. roadside whist in the channel islands visitors riding about in large wagonettes pass the time by playing a game called "roadside whist." the people on the left seat of the carriage take the right side of the road, and those on the right seat take the left. the conductor teaches them the rules at the beginning of the drive. in our case it is better perhaps to make them for ourselves, to suit our own particular country. let us suppose that-- if you see a baby in arms you score a baby in a perambulator " a white horse " a ladder against a house " a woman in a white apron " a butcher's cart " a street gate " a postman " then there should be a few things for which marks have to be taken off. let us suppose that-- if you see a pug dog you lose a piebald horse " an open gate " a flock of sheep " a soldier " no matter what the score is, whichever side sees a cat on a window-ledge wins the game. counting dogs in a town there are other varieties of roadside whist for two players or sides. counting dogs is one. in this game one takes all the streets leading from the left, the other all from the right. guessing horses' tails a good game (writes e. r.) while out for a walk is "when you see a horse coming, guess what color his tail is before he can reach you, and then, whoever guesses right, the horse belongs to him." shop-windows except in very dull streets shop-windows can be always entertaining. it is interesting to suppose you have so much money--say five dollars--to spend, or, if you like, an unlimited sum, and choose what you would buy as you pass each shop, e. h. writes:--"one little girl used to suppose that she was the eldest of a large family whom she had to provide for, and was always on the lookout for things in the shops that would do for her younger brothers and sisters. for instance, if she decided that the family must have new winter clothes, she would first make up her mind how much she could afford and then price the things in the shop-windows. sometimes she would set her heart on a particular cloak for the baby, but could not pretend to buy it till she had seen whether it would leave her enough money for the other children. if she could get all the children dressed fairly nicely for the sum at her disposal she had all the satisfaction of a successful day's shopping. sometimes the clothes she wanted were too dear, and then she had to decide what was most necessary, what she could make at home, and so on." making sentences it is rather exciting for each player to take a side of the road where there are shops and see which can first complete a given sentence or word from the initial letters of the shopkeepers' names, christian or surname. in fixing upon a sentence it is well to be careful not to have unusual letters, such as q, or u, or j in it. if this is too difficult all the letters in the shopkeepers' names may be taken, or those in every other name. collecting jones's in mrs. meynell's book, _the children_, one little girl on her walks collected jones's--that is, shops with the name of jones over them. if any one else cared for this amusement there would be no need to stick to jones. the love alphabet in this game you go through the alphabet, applying adjectives to your love. "i love my love with an a because he [or she] is so admirable"; "i love my love with a b because she is so beautiful," and so on, keeping to each letter as long as possible. on pages and will be found more difficult varieties, less suitable, perhaps, to be played when walking. the cat alphabet another alphabet game requires adjectives to be put before the word cat. you begin with a. "an artful cat," one player may say; and the next, "an avaricious cat." perhaps "an awful cat," "an adhesive cat," "an arrogant cat," and "an attractive cat," will follow. a is kept up until no one can think of any more; or--if you play in that way--until no one can think of any more while ten is being counted. then b: "a bushy cat," "a bruised cat," "a bellicose cat," "a bumptious cat," and so on. spelling in this game the players each contribute a letter toward the spelling of a word, their object being never to be the one to complete it, but to force the next player to do so. thus (with four players) the first player may say "p," and the next, thinking of "prim," may say "r," and the next, also thinking of "prim," may say "i." but the fourth player, running his thoughts quickly over possible words beginning with "pri," may light upon "prism" and say "s." this saves her, but puts the first player in danger, which is only averted by her thinking of "prison" and saying "o," in which case the next one is bound to be the loser. the grand mogul a favorite old game which can be played as well on a walk as indoors is "the grand mogul." "the grand mogul does not like e's," says one player; "what will you give him for dinner?" each player answers in turn, but none of the dishes named must contain the letter e, or the player either stands out, or (indoors) pays a forfeit. thus, the answers to the question may be "apricots," "mutton," or "soup," but not "apples," "beef," or "porridge." on a walk the letter e might be persevered with until every one failed, and then the other vowels might be tried. buz this is a counting game in which, whenever the number comes, or a multiple of , such as , , , , or a number with in it, such as , , , the player whose turn it is must say "buz." otherwise, out-of-doors, he loses a round or two, or, indoors, he must pay a forfeit. when comes you say "buz" in the ordinary way, but for , , , , , , , and you say "buz ," "buz ," and so on. for you say "buz buz." rhyming lights in this game one player thinks of a word and gives the others a rhyme to it. thus, she may think of "coal," and she would then say, "i've thought of a word that rhymes to pole." the others have to guess what the word is, yet not bluntly, as, "is it mole?" but like this: "is it a little animal that burrows?" "no," says the first player (who thus has a little guessing to do herself), "no, it is not mole." "is it a small loaf of bread?" "no, it is not roll." "is it something you eat bread and milk from?" "no, it is not bowl." "is it something you burn?" "yes, it is coal." the player who thought of "coal" then finds a word for the others to guess. the apprentice the "apprentice" is an old game for two or any number. one says, "i apprenticed my son to a [mentioning a tradesman or craftsman], and the first thing be sold [or made] was a [mentioning, by its initial only, something peculiar to the trade or craft]." the player who first guesses what the initial stands for then makes a similar remark. thus, one player may say, "i apprenticed my son to a blacksmith, and the first thing he made was a d. k." (door knocker). another, "i apprenticed my son to a grocer, and the first thing he sold was s. s." (soft soap). another, "i apprenticed my son to a gardener, and the first thing he grew was a c. b." (canterbury bell). another, "i apprenticed my son to a firework manufacturer, and the first thing he made was a g. r." (golden rain). towns and products this is a somewhat similar game bearing on geography. suppose there are three players. one chooses a well-known place, say boston, and begins, "i know a place where they sell boots," or whatever it may be beginning with b. the next player then knows what letter the place begins with and at once starts thinking of what place it is likely to be. perhaps she settles on birmingham, in which case she would say, to indicate that the second letter of the word was "i," "i know a place where they sell isinglass" (or icicles, or inglenooks). "no," says the first player, and the third therefore has to try. perhaps she decides that the place is brighton, in which case she will say, "i know a place where they sell rockets" (or rump-steak or raisins). "no," says the first player again, and then it being her turn she gives them another light on the right word by saying, "i know a place where they sell oranges" (or oil, or ocarinas), and so on, until the place is spelled through. other games other games suitable to be played when walking are "p's and q's" (p. ), "suggestions" (p. ), "clumps" (p. ), "how, when, and where" (p. ), "coffee-pot" (p. ), "throwing light" (p. ), and "animal, vegetable, and mineral" (p. ). hoops iron hoops are the best, but it is a matter of taste whether a stick or a hook is used for them. if the stick is a stout one you get rid of the skidding noise made by the hook, and there is more satisfaction in beating a thing along than in, as it were, pushing it. it should be every one's aim to make the hoop do as much as possible with as little treatment as possible. after a very fast run it is equally interesting to see how slowly a hoop can be made to travel. to make it keep as straight a course as may be is very absorbing. bought hoops can be strong, but to get exactly what one wants it is necessary to go to a blacksmith. a hoop standing as high as its owner, through which he can run to and fro as it rolls, is a possession which only a blacksmith or working-ironmonger can supply. two in hoop games hoop games are few in number, and, with the exception of "posting," not very exciting. with a large hoop and a small hoop two players can learn to time the pace of a hoop very exactly and then bowl the little one through the big one as it rolls. there is also a game called "turnpikes," in which several players and one hoop take part. the turnpikes, of which there are as many as the players, less the one who begins with the hoop, are two stones an inch or so apart, through which the hoop has to be bowled without touching, the faster the better. if it touches, or misses, the player who has been bowling it gives the hoop to the turnpike holder, who then tries his fortune with it, keeping it until he fails at any of the stones. hoop posting a very good hoop game for several players is "posting." the idea is that a distance is to be covered (as in the old posting days) as quickly as possible by relays of riders, and the first thing to do is to station four posts at various points along the route. then, when they are ready, each with hoop-stick or hook, the player with the hoop starts and bowls it as fast as he can to the first post. immediately it reaches him that post takes it on, without stopping the hoop for an instant, to the next, while the first one takes the place left by him; and so on, as often round the ring as you like. when there is a time-keeper and you post against time it is even better fun. the advantage of standing in a large circle is that the hoop need never be checked; but if the circle is impossible, you can go up and down a long line, with checks only at each end. in the train or during a wait at a railway station a long journey in a train--say from new york to chicago--can, even if you have a window seat, be very tiring; but without a window it is sometimes almost unendurable. the hints which follow are mostly adapted for two players, but one or two will be found useful if you are alone with no one to play with. the value of a map a map of the country which the train passes through is an interesting thing to have on a long journey. it tells you the names of the hills and villages you see from the windows and you can very likely fix the exact moment that you cross from one county or state into another. railway competitions two persons can have good competitions. they can agree beforehand that the game is to go to whichever of them sees the more horses, or cows, or sheep, or men driving, or bicyclists, or rabbits, between two given points, say one station and the next. it is not necessary to be at different windows; in fact a new kind of excitement comes in if both are at the same window or at windows on the same side, because then in addition to seeing the things there is the fun of not letting the other think you have seen them. railway whist this is a kind of "roadside whist," the rules for which will be found on page . as has been said there, most players will prefer to draw up their own scoring table; but the following things and figures may be found useful as a foundation:-- if you see-- a church it counts a field with sheep " a field with cows " a field with horses " a field with rabbits " a man " a woman " a stile " an open gate " a shut gate " an ordinary dog " a sheep dog " a horse and cart " a hay-wagon " a pond " if you see-- a waving handkerchief you lose a hay-stack " a red barn " a grocer's wagon " children on a gate " whichever side first sees a black sheep wins, no matter what the score is. otherwise the scorer of the greatest number of marks is the winner. in "railway whist" it is necessary for the players to be on different sides of the train. station observation a variety of "observation" (see page ) can be played on journeys. while the train is stopping at a station every one looks out of the window and notices as many things as possible. when the train starts again each writes as many of these things as he can remember, and the one with the best list wins. games with a watch if you have a watch it is rather interesting to guess the exact time at which the train will reach the next station. the one who guesses nearest becomes the holder of the watch until the next guess is decided. other things can be done with a watch, particularly if it has a second hand. guessing the length of a minute is rather interesting, or timing the speed of the train by noting how long it takes to go between the telegraph-poles at the side of the line. hot-hand this is a primitive game, capital for cold weather, for it is well named. it is played by two people, one of whom spreads out his hands flat, palms up. the other puts his, palms down, within about three inches of the other's, and tries to strike them a smart blow. if the first player can withdraw his hands quickly enough so that they are not touched it is his turn to try and strike. as long as the player whose hands are palms down can strike the other's hands he can go on. this is an excellent game for cultivating quickness. the player whose hands are to be struck will find that he can succeed better in escaping the other's blows, if he watches his eyes rather than his hands. this can be arranged among many players as a sort of tournament, trying out the players by couples until finally the two best contestants are left to struggle for the championship. this is a good game to play while getting your breath after skating--or at any time out of doors when you are obliged to be quiet, and there is danger of getting chilled. pencils and paper it is well to take a pencil and paper when you go on a long journey. if the train rocks a good deal it is interesting to see which can write a sentence most clearly. there is a way of balancing oneself on the edge of the seat and holding the paper on one's knees which makes for steadiness. it is never too shaky for "noughts and crosses." noughts and crosses or tit-tat-toe "noughts and crosses" is playable anywhere; all that is needed is a piece of paper--a newspaper will do--and a pencil. the framework is first made. thus:-- | | | | | | -----+-----+----- | | | | | | -----+-----+----- | | | | | | one player chooses crosses and the other noughts, and the one who is to begin puts his mark--say, a cross--in one of the nine squares. the other puts a nought in another of the squares, and so it goes on until either three noughts or three crosses are in a straight line in any direction. thus, this is the end of a game in which noughts played first and crosses won: | | x | | | | -----+-----+----- | | x | o | o | | -----+-----+----- | | x | | o | | but it often happens that the game is drawn, as in this example, in which noughts played first:-- | | x | o | | | -----+-----+----- | | o | o | x | | -----+-----+----- | | x | x | o | | a blank book for "noughts and crosses," with the framework all ready, can now be obtained. it has places for the names of the players, and the date. paper french and english "french and english," another game for two, belongs to the family of "noughts and crosses," and can be played anywhere and on any scrap of paper. you first decide which will be english and which french. each player then takes one-half of the paper and covers it with, say, sixty dots. it does not matter how many, but there must be the same number on each side. then in a corner each draws a cannon, or draws something that can be called a cannon for the purposes of the game. you then decide how many turns you will have. the game is played by placing the pencil on the cannon, shutting your eyes, and dashing the pencil across your enemy's side of the paper, straight or crooked, in any direction you like. then you open your eyes, count how many dots the pencil line has passed through, and score them down. the player who, at the end of the number of turns settled upon, has gone through the greatest number of dots is the winner. "letters" and words a box of letters is an unfailing help to pass the time. a word will sometimes keep a player puzzling for hours, which is, of course, too long. "pomegranate," "orchestra," and "scythe" are good examples of difficult words. you can also take words and sentences seen on the journey, such as "wait till the train stops," and "pears' soap," and see how many words they will make. a more difficult task is to make anagrams of advertisements. "lipton's teas," for instance, makes "taste on, lips." "letters" with a pencil the word-making game has been adapted into a writing competition. each of the company is handed a card which has been prepared for the purpose beforehand by having names of a dozen animals, or towns, or flowers, or birds, or whatever it may be, written on it in what might be called twisted spelling. for instance, "butterfly" might be spelled thus, "trelbyfut," and "manchester" thus, "tramschene." a certain amount of time is given, and the winner is the player who has found out most words therein. a version of this game is to dot out all the letters of the word except the first and the last. you would put "elephant" on the paper thus, e......t, and tell your companion it was the name of an animal. or you might write "peppermint" thus, p........t, and tell him it was the name of a sweet. hanging this is a more difficult game, very suitable for a tiring journey. the two players sit side by side, and one of them dots out on a piece of paper the words of a proverb or well-known line of poetry. thus, "i met a little cottage girl" would be set down in this way:-- . ... . ...... ....... .... underneath this line a small gallows is erected. thus:-- +---------+ | / | |/ | | | | | | | | | the game is for the other player to discover the line. in order to do this he is permitted to ask his opponent for letters. perhaps he will begin by asking, "may i have an 'a,'" because there are few sentences that do not contain an "a." his opponent will then put the first "a" in. thus:-- . ... a ...... ....... .... then perhaps another "a" will be asked for, and the line will come out thus:-- . ... a ...... ....a.. .... then perhaps an "e":-- . .e. a ...... ....a.. .... so far all has gone favorably with the guesser, and the gallows is still untouched. but perhaps he will now venture to ask for a consonant (which is much more risky than a vowel), and will say, "may i have an 's'?" as there is no "s" in the line the reply will be against it, and the opponent will at once append to the rope of the gallows a small head. thus:-- +---------+ | / | |/ | | | | o | | | | | this means that the guesser has lost one out of a possible six points, the others being his body, his two arms and two legs. for each letter he asks for in vain he loses one of these, and when all have gone he has lost the game too. sometimes, however, the quotation can be detected very quickly. other games many games usually kept for the house can be played in the train. "old maid" (see p. ) is a good train game; so is "buz" (see p. ). a "fox and geese" board, or a draughtboard, will help to pass the time. food food is a great help toward shortening a long journey. a little picnic every hour, if it is permitted, is something not too distant to look forward to, and it may take up ten minutes each time. a larger meal all at once may, of course, be more convenient, but, if not, the hourly picnic is worth trying. chinese gambling this is the simplest game possible but will while away endless hours. it is played with nothing but your hands, which are made to assume three positions: one with clenched fist; one spread out flat; and one with first and second finger spread apart like the blades of scissors. the first is called "the stone," the second "the paper" and the third "the scissors." very rapidly both players strike their right hand (clenched) into the left palm three times, and then both at the same instant bring up the right hand in one of the three positions. the winner is determined by this formula: "scissors cut paper. stone breaks scissors. paper wraps stone." that is if you have made your hand "the stone" and your companion "the paper," he wins. but if you had chosen "the scissors" you would have won. the winner must call out the formula that fits the case, "scissors cut paper" for instance, and count is kept of the number of losses and gains. the one who comes out ahead after a half-hour's contest is the winner of that bout. [illustration: chinese gambling] playing alone, and games in bed bricks among the best toys with which to play alone are bricks, soldiers, balls, battledore and shuttlecock, and dolls. no one needs any hints as how to play with them; but it might be remarked that ordinary bought bricks being rarely what they should be, it is better, if possible, to get a carpenter to make some of a more useful size, say four inches long, one and a half inches wide, and an inch thick. with a hundred of these you can do almost anything in the way of building, and if made of tough wood they ought to last forever. soldiers a good game of soldiers is to see how many shots are required from a cannon to kill the whole regiment. the cannon can either be a spring cannon or a pop-gun, or a pea-shooter. just at first it is almost impossible not to clear off two or three men with each shot, but later it becomes more difficult and exciting. ninepins with a box of ninepins very much the same game can be played. in wet weather, in the hall, a box of large ninepins is invaluable. spanish cup and ball a good quiet game to play alone is "spanish cup and ball." a long stick has fastened to it a loop of wire standing out at right angles, thus. to this is attached by a long string a worsted, or a very light rubber ball. the game is to see how many times you can throw the ball up to the ceiling and catch it in the loop of wire as it falls. [illustration: spanish cup] balancing all kinds of balancing games are excellent when you are alone and tired of toys. there is no way to acquire proficiency in these but by practice, but practice is fascinating work. try balancing at first a long pole (an old broom-stick handle will do) on the palm of your hand, then on your finger, then on your chin and forehead. the longer the pole, the easier to balance it. remember one golden rule. _keep your eyes on the top of the pole._ then try balancing a whole broom, or a chair. the practice of balancing is excellent for training yourself in quickness of eye and muscle. of course bricks and soldiers and ninepins, as well as balls (see p. ), are more interesting when more than one person plays; but one can pass the time very well with them. bruce's heart where toys become tedious, games have to be made up; and in making up games no outside help is needed. at the same time, some games which e. h. describes may perhaps supply a hint or two. "one little girl," she writes, "used to find endless joy in pretending to be douglas bearing the heart of bruce to the holy land. a long stick in the right hand represented his spear; a stone in the left hand was the casket containing bruce's heart. if the grown-ups stopped to talk with some one they met, or if there was any other excuse for running on ahead, the little girl would rush forward waving her stick and encouraging her men (represented by a big dog), and, after hurling her stone as far forward as possible, and exclaiming, 'lead on, brave heart,' she would cast her spear in the same direction in a last effort against the moors, and then pretend to fall dead to the ground." this little girl had found the story of bruce in _tales of a grandfather_, by sir walter scott. almost every book will yield people and events to play at. the hotel camps another little girl whom e. h. knew "once spent a short time in a hotel, and while there divided the other people into camps according to the floor on which they had rooms. the designs in the windows on the various floors represented the badges or heraldic signs of each camp. for instance, one window (they were of colored glass) had a border with eagles, another had gryphons, another lions, and so on. if she met some one of another floor coming in or going out of the hotel, it represented the meeting of two rival bands. if she actually found herself in the elevator with them, it was a dangerous encounter, in which, if they got out first, she had driven them off the field, but if she got out first it was she who was in retreat. if two people of different floors were seen talking together, a truce had been declared, and so on." block city the little book called _a child's garden of verses_, by r. l. stevenson, has several poems which describe how a lonely little boy used to play. thus (in "block city"):-- let the sofa be mountains, the carpet a sea, there i'll establish a city for me, a kirk and a mill, and a palace beside, and a harbor as well where my vessels may ride. story-books and (in "the land of story-books"):-- now, with my little gun, i crawl all in the dark along the wall, and follow round the forest track away behind the sofa back. there, in the night, where none can spy, all in my hunter's camp i lie, and play at books that i have read till it is time to go to bed. the bed boat that is ordinary play. there is also a poem describing play in bed:-- my bed is like a little boat; nurse helps me in when i embark; she girds me in my sailor's coat and starts me in the dark. thinking games for bed when more than one sleep in the same room, the time before sleep can be very interesting. many games which have already been described are suitable for bed, such as "telling stories" (p. ), "i love my love" (p. ), "spelling" (p. ), "the grand mogul" (p. ), "rhyming lights" (p. ), "the apprentice" (p. ), "towns and products" (p. ), "suggestions" (p. ), and "clumps," adapted (p. ). games by rote on this subject b. r. l. writes:--"we made a list, which was stuck on the wall with a different game for each night. one was 'i love my love with an a' (see p. ), which we steadily made up all through the alphabet. another was 'initials,' in which you take turns in saying the initials of people you know, while the other guesses the names. another was 'twenty questions,' in which one thinks of something that has to be guessed as quickly as possible, only 'yes' and 'no' being given as answers. one very girlish game was like this: suppose you had a little girl with golden hair and blue eyes, and she was going on a visit to london, what sort of frocks would you buy her?" the imaginary family e. h. recommends for girls the "imaginary family" game. this is her description of it:--"first you have to settle the names, ages, and characters of your family, and then you can carry on their adventures every night. one little girl who was devoted to books of travel, and who loved to pore over maps and charts, used to travel with her family every night in whatever country she happened to be interested in at the time. thus she and a favorite son, pharaoh, traveled for a long time in california, crossing every mountain-range by the proper passes, exploring every valley, tracing each river to its source, and so on. in the same way she traveled with her family is central and south america, the malay peninsula, and the south sea islands. another little girl who was very fond of adventure stories carried her family through all sorts of perils by land and sea. at one time they were shipwrecked and lived like the swiss family robinson. at another time they were exploring central africa, and traveled about with three years' supplies in a gigantic caravan with fifty elephants. yet another little girl had for her family any characters out of books that particularly fascinated her. thus, when she was reading _the heroes_, her family was reduced to one daughter, medea, a rather terrible daughter, who needed a great deal of propitiating, and for whose sake all other children had to be given up. later on, when the same child was reading _tales of a grandfather_, her family consisted of three sons, wallace, bruce, and douglas. (it is rather a good thing, by the way, to have a very heroic family, especially if you are at all inclined to be afraid in the dark, as they help to keep one's courage up.) two little girls, who lived in a clergyman's household, had an imaginary poor family they were interested in, and they planned about them every night,--how much the father earned, what their rent was, whether the mother oughtn't to take in washing, whether the eldest girl could be spared to go into service, and so on. when they weren't allowed to talk at night they carried the family history on independently and compared notes in the morning." making plans making plans is always interesting, but particularly so just before christmas, when presents have to be arranged for. for getting to sleep the favorite way is to imagine that you see a flock of sheep scrambling through a gap in the hedge, and to count them. a variety of this is a desert with a long train of camels very far off, coming slowly near, and then passing and gradually disappearing in the far distance. counting a million is also a good way. games for convalescents a good thing to do in bed when getting better from an illness is to cut out pictures for scrapbooks. any kind of cutting out can be done, as the scissors and paper are very light and do not, therefore, tire the arms. "patience" (see page ) is also a good bed game, because it needs very little thought. bed soldiers in _a child's garden of verses_ there is a poem called "the land of counterpane," which tells what a little boy did when he was ill, lying among the pillows with his toys: and sometimes for an hour or so i watched my leaden soldiers go, with different uniforms and drills, among the bed-clothes, through the hills; and sometimes sent my ships in fleets all up and down among the sheets, or brought my trees and houses out and planted cities all about. china animals dolls are, of course, perfectly at home in bed when you are ill, but there is even more interest in a menagerie. on this subject it would be difficult to do better than quote from a letter from e. m. r., who has china animals, mostly in families and all named. she began this magnificent collection with a family of monkeys. the mother was called sally, her eldest son mungo, the next pin-ceri, another, eating a nut, jock, and the youngest, a sweet little girl monkey, ness. i was soon given a family of three foxes, reynard, brushtail, and whitepad, and from that time to the present my collection has been growing. i soon had enough to fill a shelf in a cabinet, and i turned my doll's-house into a boarding-school for the little animals with a big pig as headmaster. but when my collection rose to animals, i had too many children to be all boarders at the school, so some had to be day-scholars, and the headmaster was changed to a green frog who swam beautifully, and who was assisted by two swans, a duck, a fish, two crocodiles, and a seal, who all swam. another frog taught the children swimming by tying a piece of string round their bodies, and dangling them in the water from the edge of a basin. the animals' abode was now changed, and they were put into a large cabinet containing six small shelves and one big one. i called the big shelf a town, and the rest villages. the town was called weybridge: the village where the birds lived, airsbury; and that where the dogs were, canistown. the rest had various other names. at this time an important addition was made to the collection, for a big lion was given me, which i immediately created king; then came a queen and four princesses, and shortly after a crown prince, another prince, and three more little princesses. the royal family was allowed a village all to itself, which was called kingston, and was given five servants, two nurses, a footman, a housemaid, and a cook. as i had now two families of several of the kinds of animals, i determined that they should be married, so, nominating sally's husband rector, i had several weddings. i built a church with some bricks i had, and formed a procession up the aisle, to the wedding march, played on an american organ. first came the bride and bridegroom, then the best man and the bridesmaids, and last the children of the animals who were to be married, two and two. when the ceremony was over, i marched them all back to their places on the shelf. i now made eight laws, and copied them out in an exercise-book, together with the names of all the animals, the number of men, women, boys, and girls, and the number of married and single families. i had had several little separate china animals given me, belonging to none of my families, so i made a law that if any family of their kind came to the collection they must adopt these little orphans. i also made two acting companies, one of big animals, and one for the children, with a boar-hound called sir philip of ravenswood for the manager of the first, and a little black and white kid, named tim, for manager of the second, and at the christmas of the same year that i formed the two companies i had two plays, the children acting "hansel and gretel," and the big animals "the yeomen of the guard." being now unable to get any fresh families of small animals, i started a collection of big china animals, and soon had thirty-five, among whom were a jersey bull and cow, another brown bull and a brown and white cow, two beautiful horses, several dogs, two donkeys, and two goats. these i kept apart from the small animals, in another cupboard; but i still kept the lion king over them as well, and gave them two big animals, a bloodhound and a st. bernard, as governors over them. among the small animals i had a very learned-looking pig called orsino, whom i made doctor, while an old bulldog, dimboona, to whom i had been obliged to give two wooden legs, was prime minister. i also had a treasurer, a rent collector, a steward, and an under-steward. i also made a young boar-hound, called panther, the son of sir philip, keeper of the stables, which consisted of ninety-two horses which i had made. and this brings the narrative of the growth of my china animal collection up to the present time, when i have small animals and big ones, in all. at the seaside low tide the first thing to do on reaching the seaside is to find out when it is low tide. in each twelve hours low tide comes twenty minutes later, and knowing this you can arrange your days accordingly. nothing is so saddening as to run down the beach in the belief that the tide is going out and to find that it is coming in. paddling to boys who wear knickerbockers the preparations for paddling are very simple; but girls are not so fortunate. lewis carroll (who wrote _alice in wonderland_) took their difficulties so seriously that whenever he went to the seaside to stay he used to have with him a packet of safety-pins for the use of any children that seemed to be in need of them. this piece of thoughtfulness on his part might determine you to carry them for yourselves. a cork ship sailing a good boat in the sea is not the best fun, but there is a kind of boat which is very easily made as you sit on the beach, and which is useful to play with when wading, and afterward to throw stones at. you take a piece of cork for the hull. cut a line down the middle underneath and wedge a strip of slate in for a keel to keep her steady. fix a piece of driftwood for a mast, and thread a piece of paper on that for a sail. wet clothes when wading it is just as well not to get your clothes wet if you can help it. clothes that are made wet with seawater, which probably has a little sand in it, are as uncomfortable as crumbs in bed. there is no reason why you should get them wet if you wade wisely. sitting among the rocks, running through the water, and jumping the little crisping waves are the best ways to get soaked. rocks seaside places where there are rocks and a great stretch of sand are the best. rocks make paddling twice as exciting, because of the interesting things in the little pools--the anemones, and seaweeds, and shells, and crabs, and shrimps, and perhaps little fish. sometimes these pools are quite hot. to enjoy the rocks properly you want a net. sand castles, and other sand games to make full use of the sands a spade is necessary and a pail important. the favorite thing to make is a castle and a moat, and although the water rarely is willing to stay in the moat it is well to pour some in. the castle may also have a wall round it and all kinds of other buildings within the wall. abbeys are also made, and great houses with carefully arranged gardens, and villages, and churches. railways with towns and stations here and there along the line are easily made, and there is the fun of being the train when the line is finished. the train is a good thing to be, because the same person is usually engineer and conductor as well. collisions are interesting now and then. the disadvantage of a railway on crowded sands is that passers-by injure the line and sometimes destroy, by a movement of the foot, a whole terminus; it is therefore better at small watering-places that few people have yet discovered. if an active game is wanted as well as mere digging and building, a sand fort is the best thing to make, because then it has to be held and besieged, and perhaps captured. in all sand operations stones are useful to mark boundaries. burying one another in the sand is good at the time, but gritty afterward. seaweed seaweed and shells make good collections, but there is no use in carrying live fish home in pails. the fun is in catching the fish, not is keeping it; and some landladies dislike having the bath-room used as an aquarium. on wet days seaweed can be stuck on cards or in a book. the best way to get it to spread out and not crease on a card, is to float the little pieces in a basin and slip the card underneath them in the water. when the seaweed has settled on it, take the card out and leave it to dry. the seaweed will then be found to be stuck, except perhaps in places here and there, which can be made sure by inserting a little touch of gum. it is the smaller, colored kinds of seaweed that one treats in this way; and it is well to leave them for a day in the sun before washing and preparing, as this brings out their color. the ordinary large kind of seaweed is useful as a barometer. a piece hung by the door will tell when rain is coming by growing moist and soft. shell work a good use for little shells is to cover small boxes with them. the shells are arranged in a simple pattern and fastened on with glue. if the shells are not empty and clean, boil them, and scrub them with an old tooth-brush. good seaside friends so many interesting things are to be seen at the seaside that there is no need to be always at play. fishermen will come in with their boats, which need pulling up; or a net that has been dropped near the shore will be drawn in from the beach, and you can perhaps help. if the town is not merely a watering-place but also a seaport, it is, of course, better, because then there will be the life of the harbor to watch. to be friends with a lighthouse man is almost as good a thing as can happen; and if there is both a lighthouse and a shipbuilder's you could hardly be more fortunate. in the country this chapter has been written more for readers who live in a town and visit the country only during the holidays than for those whose home is always there. regular country dwellers do not need to be told many of the things that follow; but none the less there may be a few to find them useful. the principal special attractions of the country are-- in the spring birds' nests. " june bee-swarming and hay-making. " july sheep-washing and shearing. " august early windfalls and harvest. " september blackberries, nuts, hops, mushrooms, and squirrels. making friends the most important thing to do when staying at a farmhouse is to make friends with the principal people. the principal people are those in charge of the chickens and ducks, the cows and the horses. the way to make friends is to be as little trouble as possible. exploration on reaching the farm, it is well to make a journey of discovery, in order to learn where everything is. the more one knows about the things in store--the size of the barn, the height of the haystacks, the number of horses, the name of the watch-dog, the position and character of the pond, and so forth--the simpler will it be, on going to bed, to make plans for the visit. finding hens' eggs the farmer's wife usually has charge of the chickens and ducks, but very often it is her daughter or a servant. no matter who it is, as soon as she is convinced that you will be careful and thorough she will let you hunt for eggs. this is very exciting, because hens have a way of laying in nests in the wood and all kinds of odd places, hoping that no one will find them and they will thus be able to sit and hatch out their chickens. the hay in the stable is a favorite spot, and under the wood-pile, and among the long grass. sometimes one overlooks a nest for nearly a week and then finds three or four eggs in it, one of them quite warm. this is a great discovery. just at first it is easy to be taken in by the china nest-eggs, and to run indoors in triumph with one in your hand. but the farmer's wife will laugh and send you back with it, and the mistake is not likely to be made again. after a while one gets to know the hens personally, and to know the noise which means that they have just laid. sometimes, if a hen is going to lay just as you come to her nest, she will run off clucking and screaming and lay the egg on the ground. ducks' eggs ducks' eggs, which are rather larger than hens' eggs, and pale green in color, are often more difficult to find. they have to be hunted for in the grass by the pond. feeding the chickens the farmer's wife also lets her visitors feed the chickens if they are gentle with them and thoughtful. it needs quite a little thought, because if you throw down the grain without thinking, many of the weaker and less greedy ones will get nothing, and many of the stronger and greedier ones will get too much. after a few handfuls you can see which are the weaklings, and after that you can favor them accordingly. a greedy hen is so very greedy that she will always, whatever you do, get more than her share; but it is possible to snub her a little. the very little chickens and ducklings do not have grain, but soft food, which is put in a saucer and placed inside the coop. it is after they have finished eating that they can most easily be picked up, but one must be very careful not to squeeze them. the dairy if the farmer's wife makes her own butter there will be an opportunity to help her. perhaps she will let you use the skimmer. turning the churn is not much fun except just when the butter forms. bee-swarming bees swarm on hot days in the early summer, usually in a tree, but sometimes in a room, if the window is open, and often in a bush, quite close to the ground. when they swarm in a tree you would think a black snow-storm was raging all around it. every moment the cluster of bees grows larger and larger, until, after half an hour or so, it is quiet. then the swarm has to be taken. this is the most interesting part, but you must be careful not to be too near in case an accident occurs and the bees become enraged and sting you. if the farmer has the new wooden hives with a glass covering he will very likely let you peep in and see the bees at work. before doing this you certainly ought to read something about their exceedingly wonderful ways. one of the best books is sir john lubbock's (lord avebury's) _ants, bees, and wasps_, but most encyclopædias contain very interesting articles on the subject. the cows the man who looks after the cows is a very valuable friend. he may even let you try to milk, which only specially gifted children ever succeed in doing at all well; and he will teach you the cows' names (in some farms these are painted up over each stall--primrose, lightfoot, sweetlips, clover, and so on); and perhaps he will give you the task of fetching them from the meadow at milking time. sheep in a general way sheep are not very interesting, especially in low-lying farms. but though sheep, as a rule, are dull, there are two occasions when they are not--at sheep-washing and sheep-shearing. the washers stand up to their knees, or even their waists, in the brook, in oilskin clothes, and seizing the struggling sheep one by one by the wool, plunge them into the water. shearing is a finer art; but the sheep is hardly less uncomfortable. he has to be thrown into various positions (on his back for one, and with his head between the shearer's knees for another), while the shears clip-clop all over him. the wool is not taken off in scraps, as our hair is at the barber's, but the whole fleece is removed in one huge piece. the blacksmith it may be that while you are at the farm the day will come for having the horses shod, and you may go with them to the blacksmith. the blacksmith is of course a very important person to be friends with; and people are very fortunate if their lodgings in the country are close to a smithy. some blacksmiths permit their friends to stand right inside the smithy, instead of just at the door, where strangers have to stay. perhaps the blacksmith will ask you to blow his bellows while he is making a horseshoe, and it may happen that if he has not much work on hand he will make you a hoop that will be far cheaper and stronger than a bought one (see p. ). in hot weather the flies are so troublesome to horses which are being shod, and make them so restless, that some one has to stand beside them and brush the flies away with a green branch. this job might fall to you. birds'-nesting one of the advantages of being in the country in spring is that that is the time when birds build. in may the weather is not yet sufficiently warm to make sitting about out-of-doors very comfortable, but birds'-nesting can make up for that. it is of no use to say in this book, "don't take the eggs," because it is possible only for one person here and there to be satisfied with merely finding a nest and then passing on to find another. but it is a pity for any one who is not a serious collector to take more than one egg. for your purposes one is enough, and the loss of a single egg rarely causes a bird to desert her nest. of course if you know for certain that the nest is deserted, it is right to take all. you can find out by visiting it two or three times, and if the eggs remain cold or wet and there is no sign of the bird you may safely feel that she has abandoned them. birds have so many natural enemies to fear that it is hard that we should harm them too. blowing eggs for blowing eggs a brass or glass blow-pipe is the proper thing, using only one hole, which is made at the side with a little drill. but for your purpose a hole at each end made with a pin is simpler and equally good. in blowing you must be careful not to hold the egg so tightly in the fingers that its sides crush in. before making the holes it is well to put the egg in a basin of water. if it sinks it is fresh and can be blown easily; but if it floats it is set--that is to say, the young bird has begun to form--and blowing will be difficult. in such cases it is wise, if you are using a blow-pipe, to make a largish hole and put a little water in and leave the egg to lie for a day or so; then blowing it will be not much trouble. but if you have no blow-pipe the best thing to do is to make one good-sized hole in the less interesting side of the egg, and empty it with a bent pin. then, when it is empty, you can put it in the egg box with the broken side underneath. country boys often thread birds' eggs on a string which hangs from the ceiling, but the ordinary way is to put them in cotton-wool in a box with cardboard compartments. making this box is a good country occupation for wet weather. butterflies butterfly-hunting begins when birds'-nesting is done and the weather is hot. here again it is not the purpose of this book to go into particulars: the subject is too large. it is enough to say that the needful things are a large net of soft green gauze, a killing-bottle with a glass stopper, a cork-lined box with a supply of pins in which to carry the butterflies after they are dead, and setting boards for use at home. the good collector is very careful in transferring the butterfly from the net to the bottle, lest its wings are rubbed or broken; and before taking it out of the bottle and putting it in the box you should be quite certain that it is dead. the way to get the butterfly into the bottle is to drive it into a corner of the net and hold it there, and then slip the bottle inside, remove the stopper, and shake the butterfly into it. the stopper should be off as short a time as possible. for handbooks for a butterfly collector see the "reading" section. collecting flowers a quieter pastime, but a very interesting one, and also one that, unlike egg-collecting and butterfly-collecting, goes on all the year round, is collecting flowers. for this purpose tin cases are made, with straps to hold them from the shoulders, in which to keep the plants cool and fresh; but there is no need to wait for the possession of one of these. an ordinary box or basket will, if you have not very far to walk, serve equally well. you will also need a press, which can be simply a couple of boards about a foot long and six inches wide, with a good supply of blotting-paper between. the flowers are pressed by spreading them very carefully, to show their beauty to best advantage, between the blotting-paper, and then piling a few books on the boards. the weight need not be very heavy and the blotting-paper should frequently be renewed. you will soon learn how long the pressing need continue, but it is of the highest importance that the flowers are thoroughly dried before you mount them in your album or on separate sheets of paper. the simplest form of mounting is to glue little strips of paper here and there across the stems. a botanical collection is more valuable if the roots of the plants are also included; and this will make it necessary for you to have a long trowel. for the collector of flowers a handbook is compulsory. such a book as alice lounsberry's _the wild flower book for young people_ gives many details of the growth and nature of plants, told with a story that makes the book unusually interesting, and will arouse your enthusiasm to gather wild flowers and see how large a collection of them you can make. it is interesting, if you have any skill in painting, to make water-color copies of all the flowers that you find; another good occupation for wet days in the country. nuts and blackberries in nutting you want a hooked stick with which to pull down the branches. for blackberries a hooked stick is not so important, but it is well to have leather gloves. the blackberries ought to be dry when they are picked. rain takes their flavor away; so you should wait until the sun comes again and restores it. one thing that you quickly notice is that all blackberries are not after the same pattern. there are different kinds, just as there are different kinds of strawberry and raspberry. some are hard and very closely built; some are loosely built, with large cells which squash between the fingers; some come between these two varieties; and there are still others. for eating on the spot the softer ones are the best, but for cooking and for jam the harder ones are equally good. in picking blackberries you soon find that it is better to have the sun at your back, because if it shines through the bush into your eyes you cannot distinguish clearly between the shades of blackness. an open basket full of blackberries is a radiant sight. each of the little cells has a point of light, and thousands of these together are as gay as jewels. no one need starve on the open road in september, for there is food on every hedge--two good courses. nuts are there as the standby, the backbone of the meal, and after come blackberries, as pudding or dessert. to pick the two for an hour, and then, resting beneath a tree, to eat until all are gone--that is no bad way to have lunch. if you take advice in this matter, you will not crack the nuts with your teeth but between stones. ponds and sailing boats near the farm is certain to be either a pond or a stream. if it is a clean and high pond, not in a hollow surrounded by trees, it will be good to sail boats on. sailing boats on inland water is much better than on the sea, because, with a pond, directly the boat is fairly started on its voyage you can run round the other side and meet it. even with a very poor pond it is still possible to have a very good time. in buying or making a boat, be sure that the lead along the keel is heavy enough. so little do toy-shop people think of these things that they very often put no lead at all on their boats, and more often than not put too little. once a boat is properly weighted in this way you are certain to have fun in sailing her, but otherwise it will be useless to try. in boat-sailing it is well to have a long stick with a hook at the end with which to draw the ship to land. for suggestions as to making a useful and simple sailing-boat see p. . little boats on a stream sailing boats in a stream is little good, because there is no steadiness of wind, but ordinary boats will float along in the current splendidly. it is interesting to launch one and follow its adventures from the bank. sometimes it will be caught in a weed; sometimes an eddy will sweep it into a back water; sometimes, in shooting the rapids, it will be overturned. but a long stick can always put things right. or one of you will go down the stream to a given point and the other will send down messengers--pieces of wood, walnut boats (see p. ), paper boats (see p. ), or whatever it may be. a stream's fascination but there is no absolute need for you to have boats in order to enjoy a stream. there are so many other things to do, not the least interesting being to make a dam and stop or divert the course of the water. and when tired of playing it is very good to sit quite still on the bank and watch things happening: perhaps a water-rat will swim along suspecting nothing, and then, seeing you make a movement, will dive and disappear, and suddenly come into view ever so far away on the other bank. perhaps a kingfisher will flash by or settle on a branch overhanging the water. kingfishers grow more rare every year, owing to the merciless and unthinking zeal with which they are shot; and maybe before long there will be no more to be seen anywhere. solitary watchfulness indeed, to keep absolutely quiet and watch things happening is for many people one of the most delightful occupations which the country holds. when there is no one else to play with it is as good a way of spending the time as can be found. mice and moles in a wood or in any place where there are old leaves, as in a dry ditch, you will usually get through the ear the first tidings of any moving thing. for instance, you will hear a field-mouse rustling long before you can see its queer pointed nose pushing its way through the dead leaves. or it may be a mole blundering blindly along. if by any chance a mole is caught in a trap while you are in the country, be sure to examine its little hands and feel the softness of its fur. perhaps the farm boy will skin it for you. snakes sometimes the rustling is a snake on his way to a sunny spot where he can bask and sleep. very slender brown speckled snakes, or blind-worms, are quite harmless, and so are the large grass-snakes, which are something like a mackerel in lines and markings. the adder, however, which is yellowish brown in color with brown markings and a "v" on his head, is dangerous and should be avoided. ants on p. is given the title of a book about bees. hardly less wonderful are ants, concerning whom there is much curious information in the same work, the reading of which makes it ten times more interesting to watch an ant-hill than it was before. one sometimes has to remember that it is as serious for ants to have their camp stirred up by a walking-stick as it would be for new york if vesuvius were tossed on top of it. swallows and hawks in the flight of birds there is nothing to compare for beauty and speed with the swift, or for power and cleverness with the hawk. on moist evenings, when the swifts fly low and level, backward and forward, with a quaint little musical squeak, like a mouse's, they remind one of fish that dart through the water of clear streams under bridges. the hawk, even in a high wind, can remain, by tilting his body at the needed angle, perfectly still in the air, while his steady wide eyes search the ground far below him for mice or little birds. then, when he sees something, his body suddenly seems to be made of lead and he drops like a stone on his prey. a hawk can climb the sky by leaning with outspread wings against the breeze and cork-screwing up in a beautiful spiral. squirrels the time to see squirrels is september and october, when the beech nuts and hazel nuts are ripe. in the pictures he sits up, with his tail resting on his back, holding nuts in his little forepaws; but one does not often see him like this in real life. he is either scampering over the ground with his tail spread out behind him or chattering among the branches and scrambling from one to another. the squirrel is not seen at his best when he goes nutting. his beautiful swift movements are checked by the thickness of the hazels. in a beech grove he has more liberty to run and leap. sometimes you will see twenty at once all nibbling the beech nuts on the ground. on hearing you they make for a tree trunk, and, rushing up it for a yard or two, stop suddenly, absolutely still, with fearful eyes, and ears intently and intensely cocked. if you stand equally still the squirrel will stay there, motionless, like a piece of the tree, for a minute or so, and then, in a very bad temper, disappear from view on the other side of the trunk, and probably, though you run round the tree quickly several times and search every branch with your eyes, never come into sight again. it is a good thing to sit under a tree some distance from the beech trees, making as little movement as possible; and by and by you will cease to be considered as anything but a regular part of the landscape and the squirrels may come quite close to you. a country diary if you are fond of writing you might find a good deal of interest in keeping a country diary: that is to say, a small note-book in which you set down evening by evening all things seen during the day that seemed to be sufficiently out of the way to be worth recording. a camera in the country nothing is said in this book about amateur photography, because to own a camera is still the exception rather than the rule, and if once we began to say anything practical about photography we should have to say very much more than the scheme of the volume permits. but we might urge any reader who has a camera to use it in the country in taking pictures of animal life and old buildings. old-fashioned farmhouses and cottages are disappearing so rapidly that we ought to keep as many records of them as possible, and well-chosen photographs of animals are not only beautiful pictures, but are also very useful. mr. kearton's work in this way, which may be studied in _with nature and a camera_, is extremely valuable. country books in the "reading" chapter will be found the titles of several books which describe life in the country, and tell you all about the habits of animals, birds, and insects. dolls' houses the most magnificent ready-made dolls' house in the world, with gables and windows, stairs, front garden, and the best furniture, cannot quite make up to its owner for all the delight she has missed by not making it herself. of course some things, such as cups and saucers, glasses and bottles, saucepans and kitchen utensils, must be bought; but almost all the really necessary things for house-keeping can be made at home. dolls' gardens one advantage of making the dolls' house yourself is that you can arrange for it to have a garden, a provision rarely made by toy-shops. grass plots can be made of green baize or other cloth of the right color; garden paths of sand sprinkled over glue, or of strips of sand-paper; flower-beds of brown paper, and the flowers of tissue-paper and wire. a summer-house, and a dog-kennel to hold a china dog, might also be added (see p. ), and, if you have room, stables. garden chairs and tables garden seats and tables can be made of cardboard and cork. for a seat, take a card two or three inches long and not quite as broad. mark it right across, lengthwise, in the middle with a sharp knife, and then half fold it. this will make the back and seat. glue the seat to four slender corks for legs and paint the whole green. to make a table, glue four cork legs to a strong piece of cardboard. the house a dolls' house can be made of almost any kind of box. for the simplest and smallest kind cigar boxes can be used and the furniture made of cork, for which directions are given later; or a couple of low shelves in a bookcase or cupboard will do. much better, however, is a large well-made packing-case divided by wooden and strong cardboard partitions into two, four, or six rooms, according to its size. a specially made box is, of course, best of all; this should be divided into four or six rooms, and should have a sloping roof to give attic room for boxes and odd furniture. the house can be stained outside or papered a plain dark color. one or two windows should be cut out of the walls of each room by the carpenter who made the box, and there must be doors between the rooms. a piece of thin glass cut to the right size can be fixed on the windows at home. but before this is done the house must be papered. the best kind of paper is that used by bookbinders for the insides of the covers, because the patterns used are so dainty and small; but this is not always easy to get. any small-patterned paper will do, or what is called lining paper, which can be got in every color. the paper must be very smoothly put on with paste. always start at the top when pressing it to the wall, and smooth it downward gently. dadoes or friezes can be divided off with the tiny beading which frame-makers use, or with a painted line, which must be straight and evenly done. fireplaces fireplaces, which can be bought or made at home, should be put in next. to make one yourself, take a strong cardboard-box lid about four inches long and two wide (though the size must depend on the size of the room). very neatly cut off a quarter of it. this smaller part, covered with gold or silver paper, will make the fender. then cut off both sides of the remaining piece, leaving the strip at the top to form the mantelpiece. glue the back of the cover to the wall, hang little curtains from the shelf, put some ornaments on it, arrange the fender in front, and the fireplace is complete. a grate can be imitated in cardboard painted black and red. a furnishing game a splendid game of shop can be played while the furnishing is going on: in fact, from the moment you have the bare house a board or sign with "_to let or for sale_" will quickly attract house-hunting dolls, and when a couple have taken it they will have their days full of shopping before it is ready for them. you will, of course, yourself be the manufacturers and shopkeepers. it is well to make out careful bills for everything sold, and the more things you can display in your show-rooms the better. all house-hunting dolls require plenty of money. curtains windows have been mentioned, but they are not by any means a necessity. yet even if you cannot have windows, you should put up curtains, for they make the rooms prettier. shades can be made of linen, edged at the bottom with a piece of lace, and nailed on the wall just above the window. during the day these are rolled up and tied. white curtains should be bordered with lace and run on a piece of tape, which can be nailed or pinned on both sides of the window. they will then draw. the heavy inside curtains can be hung on a pencil (which may be gilded or left its own color) supported by two picture screws. fasten these curtains back with narrow ribbons. some dolls' houses, of course, are fitted with real doors. but if you do not have these, it is perhaps well to hang the doorway with curtains, also on pencils. floors the floors can be stained or painted either all over or round the edges. carpets are better not made of ordinary carpet, for it is much too thick, but of colored canvas, or chintz, or thin felt, or serge. a rug made of a plain colored material with a cross-stitch or embroidered pattern around it is very pretty. fine matting can also be used, and oil-cloth is excellent for the kitchen. general remarks on furnishing in another place in this book (pp. - ) will be found instructions for making furniture for very small and simple dolls' houses; but for a good dolls' house with several good-sized rooms you would probably prefer, for the most part, to use bought things. square tables are of course easy to make (a cardboard-box lid on four legs is practically the whole thing), and there are other articles which, if you see your way to devise, are better made at home, instructions for which will be found as you read on; but chairs and round tables and so forth are perhaps most satisfactory when they come from the toy-shop. both in buying furniture and in making it, it is necessary always to remember the size of the rooms and of the dolls, and the size of whatever furniture you may already have, so as to keep everything in proportion. beds beds can be made of cardboard-boxes of different sizes. the box turned upside down makes the bed itself, and the cover should be fixed upright behind it for curtains to hang from. these curtains and the frill round the bed should be made of any thin material, such as muslin. the mattress, bolster, and pillows are best made of cotton-wool covered with muslin or calico. sheets may be made also out of muslin; pillow-cases should be edged with lace; for blankets you use flannel, button-hole-stitched round with colored silk or wool, and the quilt will look best if made of a dainty piece of silk, or muslin over a colored sateen to match the curtains. a tiny nightdress case should not be forgotten. beds for doll children can be made in the same way out of match-boxes; and for cozy little cots for babies there are walnut shells. [illustration: cardboard box beds] bead furniture [illustration: bead chair] chairs can be made with wire, beads, a little silk or cotton material, some cardboard and cotton-wool. to make a chair in this way, cut a piece of cardboard the size that you want the seat to be. lay a good wad of cotton-wool over it, and then cover it neatly. on a piece of strong wire thread enough beads to go round the seat of the chair. sew this firmly to the seat. then thread beads on four pieces of wire the right length for the legs, and leave a little piece of wire with which to fasten them to the wire round the seat. then make the back from a longer piece of wire, bent into shape and attached to the seat in the same way, and put a short row of beads across the middle. you will need a pair of tweezers to cut the wire and to finish the fastening securely. pictures pictures for the walls can be made very easily. the picture itself will be a scrap or tiny photograph. this is pasted on a piece of cardboard larger than itself, and round the edge of that you place a strip of whatever colored paper you want for the frame. the picture cord, a piece of cotton, can be glued on the back. more elaborate frames are cut out of cardboard and bound round with colored silk and covered with gold paint. the picture is then stuck into it. bookshelves and books the simplest bookshelves are those that hang from a nail on the wall. they are made by cutting two or three strips of cardboard of the size of the shelves and boring holes at the corners of each. these are then threaded one by one on four lengths of silk or fine string, knots being tied to keep the shelves the right distance apart. care has to be taken to get the knots exactly even, or the shelf will be crooked. books can be made by sewing together a number of tiny sheets of paper, with a colored cover and a real or invented title. sometimes these books contain real stories. other articles a dolls' house ought to be as complete as possible, and though this will take a long time it is absorbingly interesting work from start to finish. it should be the ambition of the mistress of a dolls' house to have it as well furnished as the house of a grown-up person, and if she looks round the rooms in her own home carefully she will see how many things can be copied. there will be cushions to make, fancy table-cloths for different tables, toilet-covers and towels for the bedroom, splashers to go behind wash-stands, mats in front of them, and roll-towels and kitchen cloths for the kitchen. everything should be made of the thinnest and finest material, cut with the greatest care and sewn with the tiniest stitches. light and dainty colors are best for a dolls' house. if you have several rooms, it is a good plan to have a pink room, a blue room, a yellow room, and in each room to have everything of different shades of that color and white. perhaps no material is so useful to the owner of a dolls' house as art muslin. it is soft, cheap, and very pretty. coming to other furniture which can be made at home, we find screens (made of cardboard and scraps), music for the piano, walking-sticks, flowers (made of colored tissue-paper and wire), flower-pots (made of corks covered with red paper), cupboards to keep linen and glass in (made out of small cardboard boxes, fitted with shelves), and many other little things which, if you look round your own home carefully, will be suggested to you. even bicycles can be imitated in cardboard and placed in the hall. the inhabitants as to dolls, the more the merrier. they are so cheap and can be dressed so easily that it seems a great pity not to have a large family and a larger circle of friends who will occasionally visit them. there must be a father and a mother, a baby and some children, servants (in stiff print dresses with caps and aprons), and certainly a bride, who, if her dress can not be changed for an ordinary one, ought to be kept carefully hidden, except when there is a wedding. dressing dolls it is rather difficult to dress these tiny dolls so that their clothes will take off and on, but it is much better to do so if possible. in any case they can have capes and hats which take off. the thinnest materials make the best underclothes, but stiff material for dresses makes it possible to stand the dolls up. glove buttons, and the narrowest ribbons, tapes, and laces, are useful things to have when you are dressing dolls'-house dolls. dolls' dinner parties dolls occasionally require parties. the food may be real or imitation. if real,--such as currants and raisins, sugar and candied peel,--it is more amusing at the moment; but if imitation, you have a longer time of interest in making it. get a little flour, and mix it with salt and water into a stiff paste, like clay. then mould it to resemble a round of beef, a chicken, a leg of mutton, potatoes, pies, or whatever you want, and stand it in front of the fire to dry. when dry, paint (in water-color) to resemble these things still more. if there is clay in the garden, you can make all these things from that, and many others too. dolls' flats just as people live not only in houses but in flats, so may there be dolls' flats as well as dolls' houses. a dolls' flat consists of a board on which the outline of the rooms is made with single bricks. for example, a four-roomed flat might be arranged like this-- [illustration: a doll's apartments] to lay the bricks on a board is not necessary. they can be laid on the floor equally well, except that when you have done playing you will have then to put them away again, whereas if placed on a board they can be left till next time. nor is there any reason why the walls should not be higher than a single brick; that is merely a matter of taste. once the walls are ready the furniture and dolls can be put in in the ordinary way. smaller dolls' houses so far we have been considering larger dolls' houses. but there are also smaller ones, which naturally require much smaller furniture. these dolls' houses can be made of cardboard (as described on p. and on), or they can be merely small boxes--even cigar boxes; and the dolls and furniture in them can be, if you like, all paper, or made of materials in ways that are now suggested. cork and match-box furniture this furniture, if very neatly made, can be very successful, and it costs almost nothing. plain pins will do quite well, although the fancy ones are much prettier. velvet or thin cloth is best for the dining-room furniture; silk for the drawing room; and some light-colored cotton material for the bedrooms. materials you will need-- several good-sized corks, or pickle corks, for the larger things. some pieces of fancy silk or velvet. a number of strong pins of different sizes. (the fancy pins with large white, black, and colored heads are best.) some wool, silk, or tinsel which will go well with the silk or velvet. a strong needle and a spool of cotton. chairs [illustration: cork arm-chair] cut a round or square piece of cork about quarter of an inch thick and one inch across. cover it with a piece of silk or velvet, making all the stitches on that side of the cork which will be the under side of the seat. for the legs put a pin firmly into each corner. wind a little wool or silk firmly round each leg, finishing it off as neatly as possible. the back of the seat is made by sticking four pins rather closely together and winding the wool or silk in and out of them. fasten the wool with a tiny knot both when you begin winding and when you finish. armchairs are made in the same way, except that they are rather larger, and arms--made of small pins--are added. chestnut chairs [illustration: chestnut chair] an be made of chestnuts. the flatter side of the nut is the seat, and in this are stuck pins for the back (and arms if necessary), which may be bound together with gold or silver tinsel. other pins are stuck in underneath for legs. sofas for a sofa a piece of cork about two inches long and half an inch thick is needed. this must be covered, and then quite short pins stuck in for legs. put a row of short pins along one side and the two ends, and wind the wool neatly in and out of them. tables [illustration: fancy table] round tables can be made best of different-sized pieces of cork, with very strong pins for legs; and square ones of the outside of a wooden match-box, with four little medicine-bottle corks glued under it for legs. in either case it is most important to have the legs well fixed on and of exactly the same length. it is not necessary to cover a table, but a table-cloth of silk, either fringed, or hemmed with tiny stitches, and a white table-cloth for meals, should be made. fancy tables can be made by taking a flat round cork and sticking pins into it at regular intervals all round. weave silk or tinsel in and out of the pins until they are covered. (see above.) foot-stools several small pieces of cork may be covered to make foot-stools. standard lamp a serviceable standard lamp can be made by taking a small empty cotton spool, gilding or painting it, and fixing the wooden part of a thin penholder firmly into it. on the top of it glue a round piece of cork, on which a lamp-shade, made of one of the little red paper caps that chemists put on bottles, can be placed. bedroom furniture--materials you will need-- two large wooden match-boxes. several corks of different sizes. some pieces of chintz, of cotton material, flannel, linen, oil-cloth, and a little cotton-wool. an empty walnut shell. several wooden matches with the heads taken off. pins of different sizes. wool, silk or tinsel, for the backs of the chairs. a tube of glue. beds [illustration: match-box bedstead] to make a bed, take the inside of a match-box and cut away the bottom of it. then take two matches and glue them to the two corners at the head of the bed so that a portion sticks out below the bed for legs and above the bed for a railing. cut two more matches to the same length as these others, less the part of them that serves for legs, and fasten these at equal distances from each other and from the two others already glued in position. along the top of these place another match for a rail, and the head of the bed is done. for the foot of the bed repeat these operations exactly, except that all the upright matches must be a little shorter. then cut off one end of the bottom of the box and fit it in to form the part of the bed that takes the mattress. the bedstead, when made, should be like the one in the accompanying picture. a little mattress must now be made to fit the bed exactly; it can be stuffed with cotton-wool or bran. a pillow, blankets, sheets, and a fancy coverlet may also be made, and a very thin and tiny frill should be put right round the bed to hide the box. a very pretty baby's cradle can be made out of half a walnut shell. it should be lined, and curtains should be hung from a match fastened upright at one end of the shell. dressing-tables the outside of the same match-box that was used for the bed will make a dressing-table. stand it up on either side of its striking sides, and glue or sew a piece of light-colored thin material all round it, and then over this put a muslin frill. make a little white cloth to lay on the top of the table. the looking-glass is made by fixing a square of silver paper in a cardboard frame. washstands take the inside of another match-box and stand it up on one of its sides. then take five or six matches and cut them to that length which, when they are glued in an upright row at equal distances apart to the back of the match-box, will cause them to stand up above the top of it about a third of an inch. on the tops of them then lay another match to make a little railing. cover the box as you did the dressing-table. put a little mat of oil-cloth on the top of the box, and make another large one to lay in front of it. proper jugs and basins will, of course, have to be bought, but an acorn cup or small shell makes a very good toy basin. [illustration: match-box washstand] wardrobes the wardrobe is made by standing the inside of a match-box on end, fixing inside several little pegs made of small pieces of match stuck in with glue, and hanging two little curtains in front of it. if, when done, it seems too low, it may be raised on four little corks. towel-rack a towel-horse can easily be made with six long pins and two small pieces of cork. [illustration: towel rack] clothes-basket [illustration: clothes basket] to make a clothes-basket, take a round piece of cork about a quarter of an inch thick and stick pins closely together all round it, as in the above picture. then weave wool in and out of them. dolls' houses and dolls of cardboard and paper a cardboard house, furnished with paper furniture and occupied by paper dolls, is a very good substitute for an ordinary dolls' house, and the making of it is hardly less interesting. the simplest way to make a cardboard house is to cut it all (with the exception of the partition and the roof) in one piece. the plan given here is for a two-roomed cottage, the measurements for which can be multiplied to whatever size you like (or whatever is the utmost that your sheet of cardboard will permit). the actual model from which this plan was made (the house was built from a royal sheet of bristol board) had a total floor measurement of inches by . the end walls were inches high, the side walls inches, sloping up to in the middle, and the partition was inches. the roof was slightly wider than the floor, in order to make wide eaves, and as much longer as was needful not only for the eaves but also to allow for the angle. the first thing to do is to rule the outline of the cottage. all the measurements must be most accurately made, as the slightest incorrectness will keep the house from fitting together properly. then cut it out. when this is done, draw the windows and doors. then lay your cardboard on a board, and run your knife along each side of the windows and the three free sides of the doors until the card is cut through. a ruler held close to the penciled line will make your knife cut straight. the bars across the windows can be made of strips of paper glued on afterward. if the doors have a tiny piece shaved off each of the cut sides, they will open and shut easily. to make the front door open well, outward, the hinge line of the door (kk) should be half cut through on the inside. the hinge can be strengthened by gluing a narrow strip of paper or linen along it. at the three points marked h make small slits through which to put the tags, marked g, of the partition wall. all drawing and painting must be done on both sides while the house is still flat. the doors inside will need handles and keyholes. small pieces of mica can be glued over the windows instead of glass. little curtains of crinkly tissue-paper can also be made, and, if you like, the walls can easily be papered with colored paper pasted on. this will cause some delay, however, for it must be well pressed. instead, wall-paper patterns could be painted on. outside--that is, on the underside of the cardboard--there is a great deal to do. both walls and roof can be painted, and tiles, bricks, and creepers imitated. the front door should have a knocker and a letterbox, and around both the door and the windows should be imitation framework. as the upright joints of the four walls will be made of linen painted to imitate brick-work or stone-work, you need not carry the painting of the walls quite to the edges, because these will be covered by the joints. it is best to paint the joints before you stick them on. before turning the card over again, run your knife along the four sides of the floor to assist the bending up of the walls. do not on any account cut through; merely make a half cut. [illustraton: cardboard doll's house] when you have drawn and painted all you can think of to make the house complete and pretty, take your strips of linen, for the fastening of the walls, crease them in half, lengthwise, and glue one half to the outside of the edge of the walls marked cb and de in the plan. when this is quite dry, bend the back wall and the two side walls up, and glue the free sides of the strips to the wall marked ab and ef, holding the walls firmly together until well stuck. strengthen the fold lm, which has to serve as a hinge for the front of the house, with a strip of linen glued underneath. the sides of the front wall must remain unattached, as that forms the opening. it can be kept closed by a strong pin slipped through the roof. [illustration: appearance of house when complete] the partition now for the partition. put the three tags g g g through the slits h h h and glue them firmly down on the outside. (these will have to be touched up with paint.) the roof must then be put on. cut out a slit n an inch long to fit the tag on the partition, also marked n. run your knife along the dotted line underneath, and fold it to the necessary angle to fit the sloping walls. where the roof touches the end walls it must be fastened on with strips of linen or paper, which have been folded in the same way as before and one half fastened securely to the walls. it is important to let it get quite dry before gluing the other half to the roof. [illustration: dog kennel (fig. ) and roof (fig. )] the chimney the chimney, of which the illustration is the actual size, is the last thing to be made. first paint, and then fold the two side pieces downward, cut out the three little holes and put into them three chimneys, made by folding small pieces of paper, painted red, round a penholder, and gluing their edges together. the chimney is fixed to the sloping roof with very small pieces of glued paper. remember that all the pieces of paper used as fastening ought to be touched up with paint. the chimney in the drawing of the complete house on page is put at the side of the roof, but it may even better go in the middle. the garden the cottage can then be fixed to a piece of wood or paste-board, to form its garden and add to convenience in moving it about. a cardboard fence and gate can be cut out and painted green. a path to the front door is made by covering a narrow space of the cardboard with very thin glue over which, while it is wet, sand is sprinkled to imitate gravel. moss will do for evergreens, and grass plots can be made of green cloth. a summer-house, garden chairs and tables are easily cut out of cardboard. so also are a rabbit-hutch, pump, dove-cot, and dog-kennel. a plan of a dog-kennel, actual size, is given. another way it is, of course, possible to make a house of several pieces instead of one. the walls and floors can be made separately and joined with linen strips; but this adds to the difficulty of the work and causes the houses to be less steady. cardboard houses can also be made with two floors. "the house that glue built" a novel kind of paper house has been gotten out in book form. it is called _the house that glue built_, and consists of pictures of rooms, without furniture, which is shown on separate sheets. the object is to cut out the furniture, arrange it and paste it in its proper place. the illustration shows the library, and the furniture for it. there is also a sheet of dolls to be cut out, who represent the owners of the house. two other books on the same order are _the fun that glue made_ and _stories that glue told_. they are all easily put together, and are lots of fun. paper furniture everything required for the furnishing and peopling of a cardboard dolls' house can be made of paper; and if colored at all cleverly the furniture will appear to be as solid as that of wood. after cutting out and joining together one or two of the models given in the pages that follow, and thus learning the principle on which paper furniture is made, you will be able to add all kinds of things to those mentioned here or to devise new patterns for old articles, such as chairs and desks. glue and adhesive tape two recent inventions of the greatest possible use to the maker of paper furniture are fish-glue which gets dry very quickly and is more than ordinarily strong, and adhesive tape. glue can be bought for very little, and adhesive tape, which is sold principally for mending music and the torn pages of books, is put up in inexpensive spools. home-made compasses a pair of compasses is a good thing to have; but you can make a perfectly serviceable tool by cutting out a narrow strip of cardboard about four inches long and boring holes at intervals, of a quarter of an inch, through which the point of a pencil can be placed. if one end of the strip is fastened to the paper with a pin you can draw a circle of what size you want, up to eight inches across. materials these are the materials needed when making paper furniture:-- a few sheets of stiff note-paper or drawing-paper. scissors. a penknife. a ruler (a flat one). a mapping-pen. a box of paints. a board to cut out on. adhesive tape or stamp-paper. glue. tracing if the drawings are to be traced, tracing-paper, or transparent note-paper, and a sheet of carbon-paper, will also be needed. to trace a drawing, cover it with paper and draw it exactly. then cover the paper or cardboard from which you wish to cut out the furniture with a piece of carbon-paper, black side down, and over that place your tracing. draw over this again with a very sharply pointed pencil or pointed stick, and the lines will be repeated by the carbon-paper on the under sheet of paper. the furniture, for which designs are given in this chapter, can be made of stiff note-paper, whatman's drawing-paper, or thin bristol board. the drawings can be copied or traced. in either case the greatest care must be taken that the measurements are minutely correct and the lines perfectly straight. a slip of paper is a very good thing to measure with. enough designs have been given to show how most different kinds of furniture can be made. these can, of course, be varied and increased by copying from good furniture lists; while many little things such as saucepans, dishes, clocks, and so forth, can be copied from stores lists and added to the few that are given on p. . [illustration: the library and furniture from "the house that glue built" (_facing page _)] these small articles are cut out flat, but an extra piece of paper is left under each, which, when bent back, makes a stand. general instructions the front legs of chairs, the legs of tables, and the backs of furniture must be neatly joined together by narrow strips of stamp-paper or adhesive tape. to do this, cut a strip of the right size, crease it down the middle, and stick one side. allow this to dry, before you fix the other. wherever in the pictures there is a dotted line, it means that the paper is to be folded there. it will be easily seen whether it is to be folded up or down. before the furniture is folded it should be painted. wood, iron, brass, and silk can all be imitated in color. in cutting out small spaces of cardboard--as between the bars of a chair--lay the card on a board, and keeping your knife, which should be sharp at the point, against a flat ruler, run it again and again along the lines you want to cut, until you have cut through. if your furniture is made of paper, the spaces can be cut out with finely pointed scissors, taking care to start in the middle of the space, for the first incision is seldom a clean one. [illustration: kitchen table (cut out the oblong parts marked aa.)] [illustration: kitchen range and kitchen chair (a is turned up to form a shelf for saucepans; b is glued down over the back.)] [illustration: screen (to be made of one piece of paper folded into three equal parts and cut out in accordance with the illustration.)] [illustration: various pots and pans (under part to be folded back for a stand.)] [illustration: dining-room table and cloth] [illustration: sideboard] [illustration: sofa and arm-chair (the corners must be fastened to the sheet by very narrow strips of paper.)] [ilustration: wooden bedstead] [illustration: wardrobe (join the sides ab and ab, and then bend the top down, glueing the flap c to the back of the wardrobe.)] [illustration: dressing table] [illustration: washstand] [illustration: rocking-chair, towel rack, and chair] [illustration: child's high chair and cot (in the chair the lines ab and ba must be cut. in the cot the four pieces marked a are cut out on their sides and bent down to form legs.)] paper dolls paper dolls are not as good to play with as proper dolls. one can do much less with them because they cannot be washed, have no hair to be brushed, and should not sit down. but they can be exceedingly pretty, and the keeping of their wardrobes in touch with the fashion is an absorbing occupation. paper dolls are more interesting to those who like painting than to others. the pleasure of coloring them and their dresses is to many of us quite as interesting as cutting out and sewing the clothes of ordinary dolls. making paper dolls the first thing to do is to draw the doll in pencil on the cardboard or paper which it is to be cut from. if you are not good at drawing, the best way is to trace a figure in a book or newspaper, and then, slipping a piece of carbon-paper (which can be bought for a penny or less at any stationer's) between your tracing-paper and the cardboard, to go over the outline again with a pencil or a pointed stick. on uncovering the cardboard you will find the doll there all ready to cut out. it should then be colored on both sides, partly flesh color and partly underclothes. the dresses the dresses are made of sheets of note-paper, the fold of which forms the shoulder pieces. the doll is laid on the paper, with head and neck lapping over the fold, and the line of the dress is then drawn a little larger than the doll. a small round nick to form the collar is cut between the shoulders of the dress, and a slit is made down the back through which the doll's head can be passed. after the head is through it is turned round. (of course, if the dress is for evening the place which you cut for the neck must be larger, and in this case no slit will be needed.) all the details of the dresses, which can be of original design, or copied from advertisements and fashion plates, must be drawn in in pencil and afterward painted. hats, trimmed with tissue-paper feathers or ribbons, are made of round pieces of note-paper with a slit in them just big enough for the tip of the doll's head to go through. the illustrations on pp. and should make everything clear. other paper dolls simpler and absolutely symmetrical paper dolls are made by cutting them out of folded paper, so that the fold runs right down the middle of the doll. by folding many pieces of paper together, one can cut out many dolls at once. walking dolls walking ladies are made in that way; but they must have long skirts and no feet, and when finished a cut is made in the skirt--as in the picture--and the framework thus produced is bent back. when the doll is placed on the table and gently blown it will move gracefully along. [illustration: walking paper dolls] [illustration: paper mother and child, with clothes for each] [illustration: a paper girl with six changes] tissue-paper dresses dresses can also be made of crinkly tissue-paper glued to a foundation of plain note-paper. frills, flounces, and sashes are easily imitated in this material, and if the colors are well chosen the result is very pretty. rows of paper dolls to make a row of paper dolls, take a piece of paper the height that the dolls are to be, and fold it alternately backward and forward (first one side and then the other) leaving about an inch between each fold. press the folds together tightly and cut out the half of a doll, being careful that the arms are continued to the edge of the fold and are not cut off. open out and you will have a string of paper dolls. other articles to be made from paper and cardboard will be found on pp. - . playhouses of other peoples it is not in the least necessary to confine yourself to making playhouses that are like the houses you live in or see about you, for with a little ingenuity you can construct bits of all sorts of strange countries right in your play-room. in one of the schools in new york city the children study geography and history of certain kinds by making with their own hands scenes from the places about which they study. one of the most valuable materials for making these playhouses is ordinary modeling clay. you can buy fifty pounds for from fifty cents to a dollar, and with this you are equipped to make almost anything you can see in pictures. put the clay (if bought dry) into a jar, pour over it clear water, and stir it up with a stick until perfectly smooth and about the consistency of hard butter. the first thing to do is to make a supply of bricks for building. this should be shaped like real bricks and about two inches long. smaller ones are also possible if you wish to have your settlement on a very small scale. these should be made as regularly as possible and as nearly of the same size. after a little practice one becomes very expert in this simple art. they should then be dried in the sun and are ready to use, though they must be handled carefully. if you can obtain terra-cotta clay, and have it baked hard you will have real bricks that will outlast your play-time. a pueblo settlement suppose now that you have been reading about the life of the pueblo indians in our southwest, and you have a picture of one of their singular settlements. the accompanying picture shows what was done in the way of constructing such a settlement by a class of school children, none of whom were over eight years old. you can model little clay indian inhabitants and paint them as you please, to represent their brown skins and bright-colored clothes. if you can have a box with a little earth in it to set before your pueblo village you can sow wheat seed, or mustard, and model indians working in the fields with their crude plows. anything of which you can find a picture can be reproduced. indian villages and camps are easy to make and interesting. and once you are started on indian life it may be fun to make yourselves indian costumes. the costumes in the picture shown were made by the boys who wear them. by looking closely at them you can copy them. an esquimau village another class in the same school painted their bricks white to represent blocks of snow and made an esquimau village. this is fascinating and easy to do. or, the rounded huts can be modeled all in one piece directly from the clay. any book describing the life of dwellers in the arctic region will tell you how they make their houses and you can make tiny imitations of them that will be infinite fun to construct and the admiration of all your friends when finished. cotton-wool can be used for snow (powdered isinglass also is pretty), and bits of broken mirror for ice-ponds. little sleds can be made on which to put your esquimau hunter, who may be one of the white-fur-clad dolls so cheaply bought in toy-stores. or you can model a little doll just the right size to be entering the door of your tiny rounded white hut. [illustration: an esquimau sled] [illustration: indian costumes (_facing page _)] a filipino village or if you get tired of living near the arctic circle you can sweep your table clean of esquimau dwellings and construct a filipino village. for these you do not need bricks (which can be given a rest and put away in a box) but little splints of wood the same size and length which you can make yourself with a knife. make a little thin floor of damp clay (but drier than you use it to model with) and stick your upright pieces in this in the shape of the house you wish to make. when the clay has hardened they are held quite firm and you can make a wattled hut by weaving long straws or grasses in and out to form your walls. a thatched roof can also be made of long grasses, tied in little bunches and laid close together all sloping down from the ridge-pole. almost every magazine of a few years back has in it pictures of filipino villages which will furnish you with models to copy. according to the size of the table or board on which you make your settlements you can have more or less extensive tropical country, surrounding your village. mountains can be made of the clay, covered with moss or grasses to represent the jungle and a river with overhanging trees arranged with bits of broken looking-glass, and twigs with tiny scraps of green tissue paper glued to them for leaves. the exercise of your own ingenuity in using all sorts of unlikely materials which you will find all about you is the best part of this game. after you have decided to change the climate and character of your village, the clay used may be broken up and put back in your jar, wet again, stirred smooth and is all ready to begin again. great care should be taken that it is kept clean, that bits of wood or glass be not left in it, or you may cut or prick your fingers in handling it. a dutch street you cannot only wander from one climate and from one nationality to another, but from one century to another. if you are studying early american history nothing is more fun than to make a street in an old dutch settlement. your bricks are painted red for this. almost any history-book will have pictures of one or two old dutch houses which will show you the general look of them. they are harder to construct than the ruder huts of savages and may need to be held together with a little use of damp clay. it is interesting to try and reconstruct old dutch manhattan, from the maps and pictures, showing the bay and the walk on the battery. or if you are interested in colonial new england, make a settlement of log-houses with the upper story overhanging the first. on any walk you can pick up enough small sticks to use as logs after trimming and measuring. other possibilities in this line are suggested below. you will have more fun in working them out yourself than if you are told just how to proceed. a roman arena with gladiators fighting and a curtain which may be drawn to keep off the sun. a little fishing-village beside the sea (a large pan of water) with tiny nets spread out to dry and little walnut shell boats drawn up on the sandy beach. a farmhouse, barn, pig-pen, dog-kennel, carriage-house and the like. a very pretty settlement can be made of this with fields of growing grain, brooks, water-wheels, etc. all the animals of a farm can be modeled and painted. when they are skilfully made they are very pretty and add much to the picture and when they are done unskilfully it is fun to have people guess what they were meant for. however, with a little practice very presentable animals can be modeled. it is easier to make them in clay than to draw them. a gypsy camp, with tents and open fires (bits of yellow and red tissue-paper), under a black kettle (made of clay and painted) swung on a forked stick, can easily be made. of course with tin or lead soldiers the number of games one can invent with these tiny settlements is innumerable. one favorite with some children is the attack and capture of the filipino village by american troops. sometimes it is burned, and this is always a stirring spectacle. indeed with tin soldiers (which are just now unjustly out of favor) one's range of subjects is unlimited, and one always has plenty of inhabitants for any settlement. an army post can be made, with a fort and barracks and a wide green parade ground with the regiment drawn up in line for dress-parade. a tiny american flag flutters from the flag-pole and after the sunset gun booms (a fire-cracker exploded or only some one striking a blow on a tin pan) it can be lowered to the ground while the best whistler of the company executes "the star-spangled banner." indoor occupations and things to make painting painting is an occupation which is within almost everybody's power, and of which one tires very slowly or perhaps not at all. by painting we mean coloring old pictures rather than making new ones, since making new ones--from nature or imagination--require separate gifts. on a wet afternoon--or, if it is permitted, on sunday afternoon--coloring the pictures in a scrapbook is a very pleasant and useful employment. after dark, painting is not a very wise occupation, because, in an artificial light, colors cannot be properly distinguished. all shops that sell artists' materials keep painting-books. but old illustrated papers do very well. flags an even more interesting thing to do with a paint-box is to make a collection of the flags of all nations. and when those are all done, you will find colored pages of them in any large dictionary, and elsewhere too,--you might get possession of an old shipping guide, and copy lloyd's signal code from it. maps coloring maps is interesting, but is more difficult than you might perhaps think, owing to the skill required in laying an even surface of paint on an irregular space. the middle of the country does not cause much trouble, but when it comes to the jagged frontier line the brush has to be very carefully handled. to wet the whole map with a wet brush at the outset is a help. perhaps before starting in earnest on a map it would be best to practice a little with irregular-shaped spaces on another piece of paper. magic-lantern slides if you have a magic lantern in the house you can paint some home-made slides. the colors should be as gay as possible. the best home-made slides are those which illustrate a home-made story; and the fact that you cannot draw or paint really well should not discourage you at all. a simpler way of making slides is to hold the glass over a candle until one side is covered with lamp black and then with a sharp stick to draw outline pictures on it. another way is to cut out silhouettes in black paper, or colored tracing-paper, and stick them to the glass. in copying a picture on a slide put the glass over the picture and draw the outline with a fine brush dipped in indian ink. then paint. all painting on slides should be covered with fixing varnish, or it will rub off. illuminating as a change from painting there is illuminating, for which smaller brushes and gold and silver paint are needed. illuminating texts is a favorite sunday afternoon employment. pen and ink work there is also pen and ink drawing, mistakenly called "etching," for which you require a tiny pen, known as a mapping pen, and a cake of indian ink. if the library contains a volume of old wood-cuts, particularly _bewick's birds_ or _bewick's quadrupeds_, you will have no lack of pictures to copy. chalks in place of paints a box of chalks will serve very well. tracing smaller children, who have not yet learned to paint properly, often like to trace pictures either on tracing paper held over the picture, or on ordinary thin paper held over the picture against the window pane. pricking pictures pictures can also be pricked with a pin, but in this case some one must draw it first. you follow the outline with little pin pricks close together, holding the paper on a cushion while you prick it. then the picture is held up to the window for the light to shine through the holes. easter eggs home-made easter eggs are made by painting pictures or messages on eggs that have been hard-boiled, or by merely boiling them in water containing cochineal or some other coloring material. in germany it is the custom for easter eggs to be hidden about in the house and garden, and for the family to hunt for them before breakfast--a plan that might very well be taken up by us. spatter-work paper and cardboard articles can be prettily decorated by spatter-work. ferns are the favorite shapes to use. you first pin them on whatever it is that is to be ornamented in this way, arranging them as prettily as possible. then rub some indian ink in water on a saucer until it is quite thick. dip an old tooth-brush lightly into the ink, and, holding it over the cardboard, rub the bristles gently across a fine tooth comb. this will send a spray of ink over the cardboard. do this again and again until the tone is deep enough, and try also to graduate it. it must be remembered that the ink when dry is much darker than when wet. then remove the ferns, when under each there will be a white space exactly reproducing their beautiful shape. if you like you can paint in their veins and shade them; but this is not really necessary. colored paints can be used instead of indian ink. scrapbooks making scrapbooks is always a pleasant and useful employment, whether for yourself or for children in hospitals or districts, and there was never so good an opportunity as now of getting interesting pictures. these you select from odd numbers of magazines, christmas numbers, illustrated papers, and advertisements. scraps are very useful to fill up odd corners. in choosing pictures for your own scrapbook it is better to select only those that you really believe in and can find a reason for using, than to take everything that seems likely to fit. by choosing the pictures with this care you make the work more interesting and the book peculiarly your own. but in making a scrapbook as a present for some one that you know, you will, of course, in choosing pictures, try to put yourself in his place and choose as you think that he would. empty scrapbooks can be bought; or you can make one by taking (for a large one) an old business ledger, which some one whom you know is certain to be able to give you, or (for a small one) an ordinary old exercise-book, and then cutting out every other page about half an inch from the stitching. this is to allow room for the extra thickness which the pictures will give to the book. or you can sew sheets of brown paper together. for sticking on the pictures, use paste rather than gum; and when it is done, press the book under quite a light weight, with sheets of paper between the pages. scrapbooks for hospitals children that are ill are often too weak to hold up a large book and turn over the leaves. there are two ways of saving them this exertion and yet giving them pleasure from pictures. one is to get several large sheets of cardboard and cover them with pictures and scraps on both sides, and bind them round with ribbon. these can be enclosed in a box and sent to the matron. she will distribute the cards among the children, and when they have looked at each thoroughly they can exchange it for another. another way is to use folding books which are more easy to hold than ordinary turning-over ones, and you can make them at home very simply by covering half a dozen or more cards of the same size (post-cards make capital _little_ books) with red linen, and then sewing them edge to edge so as to get them all in a row. in covering the cards with the linen--red is not compulsory, but it is a good color to choose--it is better to paste it on as well as to sew it round the three edges (a fold will come on one side), because then when you stick on the pictures they will not cockle up. pictures for hospital scrapbooks should be bright and gay. colored ones are best, but if you cannot get them already colored you can paint them. painting a scrapbook is one of the best of employments. composite scrapbooks sometimes it happens that you get very tired of one of the pictures in your scrapbook. a good way to make it fresh and interesting again is to introduce new people or things. you will easily find among your store of loose pictures a horse and cart, or a dog, or a man, or a giraffe, which, when cut out, will fit in amusingly somewhere in the old picture. if you like, a whole book can be altered reasonably in this way, or made ridiculous throughout. scrap-covered screens a screen is an even more interesting thing to make than a scrapbook. the first thing to get is the framework of the screen, which will either be an old one the covering of which needs renewing, or a new one made by the carpenter. the next thing is to cover it with canvas, which you must stretch on tightly and fasten with small tacks; and over this should be pasted another covering of stout paper, of whatever color you want for a background to the pictures. paste mixed with size should be used in sticking it. after the pictures are all arranged they should be stuck with the same material, and a coat of paper varnish given to the whole, so that it can be cleaned occasionally. collecting stamps stamp-collecting is more interesting if money is kept out of it and you get your stamps by gift or exchange. the best way to begin is to know some one who has plenty of foreign correspondence and to ask for all his old envelopes. nothing but time and patience can make a good collection. to buy it, is to have little of the collector's joy. postage-stamp snakes old american stamps can be used for making snakes. there is no need to soak the stamps off the envelope paper: they must merely be cut out cleanly and threaded together. a big snake takes about , stamps. the head is made of black velvet stuffed with cotton wool, and beads serve for eyes. a tongue of red flannel can be added. puzzles if you have a fret saw, and can use it cleverly, you can make at home as good a puzzle as any that can be bought. the first thing to do is to select a good colored picture, and then to procure from a carpenter a thin mahogany board of the same size. mahogany is not absolutely necessary, but it must be some wood that is both soft and tough. deal, for instance, is useless because it is not tough, and oak is useless because it is not soft. on this wood you stick the picture very firmly, using weak glue in preference to paste or gum. when it is quite dry you cut it up into the most difficult fragments that you can. it is best to cut out the border so that each piece locks into the next. this will then be put together first by the player and will serve to hold the picture together. after the puzzle is cut up it is well to varnish each piece with paper varnish, which keeps it clean and preserves it. a simple puzzle can be made by pasting the picture on cardboard and cutting it up with scissors or a sharp knife. soap bubbles for blowing bubbles the long clay pipes are best. before using them, the end of the mouthpiece ought to be covered with sealing-wax for about an inch, or it may tear your lips. common yellow soap is better than scented soap, and rainwater than ordinary water. a little glycerine added to the soap-suds helps to make the bubbles more lasting. on a still summer day, bubble-blowing out-of-doors is a fascinating and very pretty occupation. shadows on the wall shadowgraphy nowadays has progressed a long way from the rabbit on the wall; but in the house, ambition in this accomplishment does not often extend further than that and one or two other animals, and this is why only the rabbit, dog, and swan are given here. the swan can be made more interesting by moving the arm which forms his neck as if he were prinking and pluming, an effect which is much heightened by ruffling up and smoothing down the hair with the fingers forming his beak. to get a clear shadow it is necessary to have only one light, and that fairly close to the hands. [illustration: shadows on the wall] skeleton leaves leaves which are to be skeletonized should be picked from the trees at the end of june. they should be perfect ones of full growth. it is best to have several of each kind, as some are sure to be failures. put the leaves in a big earthenware dish or pan, fill it with rain-water, and stand it in a warm and sunny place--the purpose of this being to soak off the green pulpy part. there is a great difference in the time which this takes: some fine leaves will be ready in a week, while others may need several months. look at the leaves every day, and when one seems to be ready slip a piece of cardboard under it and shake it about gently in fresh cold water. if any green stuff remains, dab it with a soft brush and then put it into another basin of clean water. a fine needle can be used to take away any small and obstinate pieces of green. it is now a skeleton and must be bleached according to the following directions:--pour into a large earthenware jar a pint of water on half a pound of chloride of lime. mix thoroughly, breaking up any lumps with the hand. add two and a half quarts of water, cover over, and leave for twenty-four hours. then pour off the solution, leaving the sediment behind. dissolve two pounds of soda in one quart of boiling water, and pour it, while on the boil, over the chloride solution. cover it, and leave for forty-eight hours; then decant into bottles, being careful to leave all sediment behind. fill an earthenware dish with this solution, lay the leaves in it, and cover tightly. the leaves will be bleached in six to twelve hours. they should be taken out directly they are white, as the lime makes them very brittle. after bleaching, rinse the leaves in cold water, float them on to cards, and dry between blotting-paper, under a heavy weight. ferns it should be noted that if you intend to skeletonize ferns, they should not be picked before august, and they must be pressed and dried before they are put into the bleaching solution, in which they ought to stay for three or four days. the solution should be changed on the second day, and again on the fourth. after bleaching they can be treated just as the leaves are. wool balls cut out two rings of cardboard, of whatever size you like, from one inch in diameter up to about four inches. a four-inch ring would make as large a ball as one usually needs, and a one-inch ring as small a one as could be conveniently made. the rim of the largest rings should not be wider than half an inch. take a ball of wool and, placing the cardboard rings together, tie the end of it firmly round them. then wind the wool over the rings, moving them round and round to keep it even. at first you will be able to push the ball through the rings easily, but as the wool is wound the hole will grow smaller and smaller, until you have to thread the wool through with a needle. to do this it is necessary to cut the wool into lengths, which you must be careful to join securely. go on until the hole is completely filled and you cannot squeeze another needle through. then slip a pair of scissors between the two rings and cut the wool all round them; and follow this up quickly by slipping a piece of string also between them and tying it tightly round the wool that is in their midst. this is to keep the loose ends, which were made directly you cut the wool with the scissors, from coming out. all that is now necessary is to pull out the cardboard rings and shape the ball a little in your hands. the tighter the wool was bound round the cards, the smaller and harder the ball will be and the more difficult will it be to cut the wool neatly and tie it. therefore, and especially as the whole purpose of a wool ball is softness and harmlessness, it is better to wind the wool loosely and to use thick wool rather than thin. wool demons to make a "wool demon," take a piece of cardboard as wide as you want the demon to be tall, say three inches, and wind very evenly over it wool of the color you want the demon to be. scarlet wool is perhaps best. wind it about eighty times, and then remove carefully and tie a piece round about half an inch from the top to make the neck. this also secures the wool, the lower looped ends of which can now be cut. when cut, gather up about twenty pieces each side for the arms, and, holding them firmly, bind them round with other wool, and cut off neatly at the proper length. then tie more wool round to form the body. the legs and tail are made in the same way as the arms, except that wool is wound round the legs, beginning from the feet and working upward, only to the knees, leaving a suggestion of knickerbockers. eyes and other features can be sewn on in silk. bead-work among other occupations which are not in need of careful description, but which ought to be mentioned, bead-work is important. it was once more popular than it now is; but beads in many beautiful colors are still made, and it is a pity that their advantages should be neglected. bead-work lasts longer and is cleaner and brighter than any other form of embroidery. perhaps the favorite use to which beads are now put is in the making of napkin-rings. bead-flowers are made by threading beads on wire and bending them to the required shapes. boxes of materials are sold in toy-shops. post-office "post-office" is a device for providing the family with a sure supply of letters. the first thing to do is to appoint a postmaster and fix upon the positions for the letter-boxes. you then write letters to each other and to any one in the house, and post them where you like; and at regular times the postmaster collects them and delivers them. the home newspaper in "the home newspaper," the first thing to do is to decide on which of you will edit it. as the editor usually has to copy all the contributions into the exercise-book, it is well that a good writer should be chosen. then you want a good title. it is better if the contributors are given each a department, because that will make the work more simple. each number should have a story and some poetry. home newspapers, as a rule, come out once a month. once a week is too often to keep up. there is a good description of one in a book by e. nesbit, called _the treasure-seekers_. paper and cardboard toys--a cocked hat [illustration: fig. ] to make a cocked hat, take a sheet of stiff paper and double it. then fold over each of the doubled corners until they meet in the middle. the paper will then resemble fig. . then fold ab ab over the doubled corners; fold the corresponding strip of paper at the back to balance it, and the cocked hat is ready to be worn. if it is to be used in charades, it is well to pin it here and there to make it secure. paper boats [illustration: fig. ] if the cocked hat is held in the middle of each side and pulled out into a square, and the two sides are then bent back to make another cocked hat (but of course much smaller); and then, if this cocked hat is also pulled out into a square, it will look like fig. . if the sides a and a are held between the finger and thumb and pulled out, a paper boat will be the result, as in fig. . [illustration: fig .] paper darts [illustration: paper darts] take a sheet of stiffish paper about the size of this page and fold it longways, exactly double. then fold the corners of one end back to the main fold, one each side. the paper sideways will then look as in fig. . then double these folded points, one each side, back to the main fold. the paper will then look as in fig. . repeat this process once more. the paper will then look as in fig. . compress the folds very tightly, and open out the top ones, so that in looking down on the dart it will have the appearance of fig. . the dart is then ready for use. paper mats [illustration: paper mats] take a square piece of thin paper (fig. ), white or colored. fold it in half (fig. ), and then again in half (fig. ), and then again from the centre to the outside corner, when it will be shaped as in fig. . if you want a round mat, cut it as marked by the dotted line in fig. ; if square, leave it as it is. remember that when you cut folded paper the cuts are repeated in the whole piece as many times as there are folds in the paper. the purpose of folding is to make the cuts symmetrical. bearing this in mind cut fig. as much as you like, as suggested by fig. . perhaps it would be well to practice first of all on a rough piece. the more delicate the cuts the prettier will be the completed mat. paper boxes [illustration: paper boxes] take an exactly square piece of paper (cream-laid note-paper is best in texture), and fold it across to each corner and press down the folds. unfold it and then fold each corner exactly into the middle, and press down and unfold again. the lines of fold on the paper will now be seen to run from corner to corner, crossing in the middle, and also forming a square pattern. the next thing is to fold over each corner exactly to the line of this square on the opposite half of the paper. when this is done, and the paper is again straightened out, the lines of fold will be as in fig. . cut out the triangles marked x in fig. , and the paper will be as in fig. . then cut along all the dotted lines in fig. , and stand the opposite corners up to form the sides and lid of the box: first a and b, which are fastened by folding back the little flaps at the tip of a, slipping through the slit at the tip of b, and then unfolding them again; and then c and d, which are secured in the same way. cardboard boxes cardboard boxes, of a more useful nature than paper boxes, are made on the same principle as the house described on p. , and the furniture to go in it, as described later in the same chapter. the whole box can be cut in the flat, out of one piece of cardboard, and the sides afterward bent up and the lid down. measurements must of course be exact. the prettiest way to join the sides is to use thin silk instead of paper, and the lid may be made to fasten by a little bow of the same material. scraps and transfers paper boxes, when finished, can be made more attractive by painting on them, gluing scraps to them, putting transfers here and there, or covering them with spatter-work (see p. ). scraps can be bought at most stationers' in a very great variety. transfers, which are taken off by moistening in water, pressing on the paper with the slithery clouded surface downward, and being gently slipped along, used to be more common than they now are. directions how to make many other paper things will be found on pp. - . ink sea-serpents dissolve a teaspoonful of salt in a glass of water, dip a pen in ink and touch the point to the water. the ink descends in strange serpent-like coils. a dancing man [illustration: a dancing man] the accompanying picture will show how a dancing man is made to dance. you hold him between the finger and thumb, one on each side of his waist, and pull the string. the hinges for the arms and legs, which are made of cardboard, can be made of bent pins or little pieces of string knotted on each side. velvet animals the fashioning of people and animals from scraps of velvet glued on cardboard was a pleasant occupation which interested our great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers when they were children many years ago. a favorite picture was of a boy and a st. bernard, in which the boy's head, hands, collar, and pantaloons, and the dog, were made of white velvet painted. the boy's tunic was black velvet, and its belt a strip of red paper. the dog's eye was a black pin-head. the whole was mounted on a wooden stand with wooden supports at the back, one running up to the boy's head and the other to the tip of the dog's tail. with some scraps of white and black velvet, and a little patience and ingenuity, one could make all the animals on a farm and many in the zoo. hand dragons all the apparatus needed for a "hand dragon" consists of a little cardboard thimble or finger-stall, on which the features of a dragon have been drawn in pen and ink or color. this is then slipped over the top of the middle finger, so that the hand becomes its body and the other fingers and thumb its legs. with the exercise of very little ingenuity in the movement of the fingers, the dragon can be made to seem very much alive. the accompanying picture should explain everything. [illustration: hand dragons] various games can be played with the fingers. tiny caps and hats can be made, features drawn with ink on the fingers and little tissue paper dresses made. a whole play can be acted or sung by these tiny finger marionettes. other uses for cardboard once you have begun to make things out of cardboard, you will find no end to its possibilities and should be in no more need of any hints. after building, furnishing, and peopling a dolls' house, a farm or a menagerie would be an interesting enterprise to start upon. e. m. r. has a stud of ninety-two horses, each named, and each provided with a horse-cloth, a groom, and harness. she has also several regiments of soldiers and a staff of nurses, all cut from cardboard and painted. she chooses her horses from _country life_, or some such paper, and copies them. another enthusiast has a cardboard theatre in which plays and pantomimes are performed. it might be added that cardboard figures can be made to stand up either by leaving a strip of cardboard at the bottom, in which teeth can be cut and bent alternately one way or the other, or by slipping the feet into grooves cut in little blocks of wood. cardboard cut-outs there are a great many cut-outs issued nowadays, which may be bought for a small sum at any toy shop. perhaps the best among these are "the mirthful menagerie," "the agile acrobats" and "the magic changelings." "the mirthful menagerie" when properly cut out and pasted together, make a lot of animals that have _thickness_ as well as length and height; "the agile acrobats" can be made to assume almost any position, and in "the magic changelings," little red riding hood, for instance, can be changed into the wolf, and then back again! books of cut-outs are also made, in which the books are intact after the cut-outs have been removed. "the new mother goose" gives illustrations of many of the mother goose rhymes to be cut out and pasted together, and has a story and other pictures besides. "the electric fire fighters" is on the same order, only in this case the pictures to be put together are of the electric fire-engine, the electric water-tower, etc. they are all easily made, and are fascinating games for stormy weather, or for indoor games at any time. particulars of "snap" cards and other home-made cards will be found on pp. and . kites in china, and to some extent in holland, kite-flying is not the pastime only of boys, but of grave men. and certainly grave men might do many more foolish things. to feel a kite pulling at your hands, to let out string and see it climb higher and higher and higher into the sky--this is a real joy. for good kite-flying you want plenty of room and a steady wind; hence a big field is the best place, unless you are at the seaside when there is a wind off the land, in which case you can fly your kite from the beach. to make an ordinary, serviceable kite, take two laths (which can be bought for a penny from any builder), one three feet long (aa in the picture) and the other two feet (bb). screw bb with two screws exactly in the middle, at right angles to aa, at c, a foot from the top. then take some stout twine of good quality and make the outline of the kite by tying it securely to the ends of each of the laths. next take the thinnest unbleached calico you can find, stretch it fairly tightly, and sew it over the strings. (or strong but light paper will do, pasted over the string.) make a hole (d) through the upright lath and calico, midway between the cross-piece and the top, and another hole (e) about fifteen inches below the cross-piece, and tie a strong string, two and a half feet long, to these holes, with a loop (f) in it a foot from the top hole. to this loop you will tie the string of the kite. the tail (g) is made of pieces of paper about six inches long, rolled tightly and tied at distances of a foot. its exact length will depend on the strength of the wind and can be determined only by experience, but, roughly speaking, it should be five times the height of the kite, or, with the kite which we are making, fifteen feet long. it is best to have the tail in two or three pieces, and then it can be lengthened or shortened at will. for instance, if the kite plunges in the air and will not keep steady, the tail is not long enough; but if it will go up only a little way, the tail is probably too long. be sure to have plenty of string, carefully wound, so that there will be no hitches in paying it out. when starting a kite you need the help of some one who will stand about thirty yards away, holding the kite against the wind, and throw it straight up when you have the line tight and give the signal. if it does not rise it may be well for you to run a few yards against the wind. at first you must not pay out line very rapidly, but when the kite is flying steadily you may give it, also steadily, all the string it wants. [illustration: a kite] [illustration: "to feel a kite pulling at your hands--this is real joy"] kite messengers a messenger is a piece of cardboard or paper with a good-sized hole in it, which you slip over the string when the kite is steady, and which is carried right up to the kite by the wind. a simple toy boat the following directions, with exact measurements, apply to one of the simplest home-made sailing-boats. take a piece of soft straight-grained pine, which any carpenter or builder will let you have, one foot long, four inches wide, and two inches deep. on the top of the four-inch side draw an outline as in fig. , in which you will be helped by first dividing the wood by the pencil line ab, exactly in the middle. then turn the block over and divide the under four-inch side with a similar line, and placing the saw an eighth of an inch each side of this line, cut two incisions right along the wood about a quarter of an inch deep. the portion between these two incisions forms the keel. then carry the line up the middle of the end a, and repeat the incisions as along the bottom, these making the boat's stem-post. next turn to the top again, and make a line, similar to the dotted line cc in fig. , about three-eighths of an inch inside the outline of the boat, and then carefully hollow out with a gouge everything inside this dotted line. it must be very carefully done; it is better, indeed, to err on the side of not hollowing her out enough, and then a little more can be removed afterward. next shape the outside, first with a saw and then with a chisel, again using the utmost care. try to give her a fine bow, or "entry," and a good clean stern, or "run." if the boat were cut in two crossways in the middle, the section ought to resemble that in fig. . this flat "floor" will be graduated away to nothing at bow and stern. next fix on the lead keel (see k in fig. ), which should be a quarter of an inch thick, a quarter of an inch deep at the bow, and three-quarters at the stern, fastened on with four long thin screws. next make the deck, which should not be more than an eighth of an inch thick and should fit very closely at the edges. [illustration: a toy boat] the mast (c), which should be about three-eighths of an inch in diameter at the foot, and should taper slightly, must stand one foot above the deck, and pass through the deck four and a half inches from the bow. first pass it through the hole in the deck and place it in position, leaning a little back from the bows; then slip up the deck and mark the place in the bottom of the boat where the mast rests, and there fix, with four small brass screws, a block of wood with a hole in it, into which the mast can be firmly "stepped." then on the upper side of the deck, just in front of the mast-hole, screw a small eyelet. this is to hold the line called the foresail sheet (l), but as the deck is only an eighth of an inch thick you must place a little block of wood under the deck, into which the eyelet can be screwed. directly this is done, the deck is ready to be screwed firmly to the boat with brass screws. if you are in any doubt as to its being water-tight, you had better bore a hole in it and put a cork in, so that you can tip it up and empty it after each voyage. [illustration: a toy boat] the bowsprit (j), a quarter of an inch in diameter, should be three and a half inches long, two inches of which project beyond the bow. screw it firmly to the boat. you have now to shape the boom (f) and gaff (d), which must have a fork at the end, as in fig. , to embrace the mast, the ends of this fork being joined by string. the boom should be eight and a half inches long and three-eighths of an inch in diameter, and the gaff five inches long and a quarter of an inch in diameter. the gaff is kept in position, about three inches from the mast-head, by the throat halyards and peak halyards, to which we now come. the peak halyards (h), throat halyards (g), and foresail halyards (f) should be of very fine fishing-line. after being tied respectively to the gaff and foresail, they pass through small holes in the mast, down to eyelets screwed into the bulwarks on each side of the mast. the foresail sheet (l) and main sheet (m), which are some four inches long, are hitched to eyelets screwed into the deck amidships, one just in front of the mast, as already explained, and the other about two inches from the stern. the sails must be of thin calico, neatly hemmed round. both sails should come to about three inches of the head of the mast. the foresail is fastened only to the tip of the bowsprit, the foresail halyards, and foresail sheet; the mainsail to the gaff, all along, and to each end of the boom. nothing has been said about a rudder, because a boat built and rigged in the manner described would balance herself, and so keep on any course on which she was laid. with a very little wind she ought to cross and recross a pond without any hitch, all that will be necessary being to let the sails have plenty of play, by loosening the foresail sheet and main sheet, and to give her a steady push. walnut shell boats to make a boat from a walnut shell, you scoop out the half shell and cut a piece of cardboard of a size to cover the top. through the middle of this piece of cardboard you thrust a match, and then, dropping a little sealing-wax into the bottom of the shell, and putting some round the edge, you fix the match and the cardboard to it. a sail is made by cutting out a square of paper and fastening it to the match by means of two holes; but the boat will swim much better without it. walnut fights here it might be remarked that capital contests can be had with the empty halves of walnut shells. a plate is turned upside down, and the two fighters place their walnuts point to point is the middle. at the given word they begin to push, one against the other, by steady pressure of finger and thumb on the stern of the shell. the battle is over when the prow of one shell crashes through the prow of the other. this always happens sooner or later, but sometimes the battles are long and severe. at the end of each contest the number of shells defeated by the victor should be marked on it, and it should be carefully kept for the next conflict. at school we used to have tremendous excitement when two champions met, a walnut with a record of , for instance, and another with . the winner in such a battle as this would, of course, be numbered , , because you always add not only your defeated adversary to your score, but all his victims too. suckers a sucker is a round piece of strong leather. thread a piece of string through the middle, and knot the string at the end to prevent it being pulled through. soak the sucker in water until it is soft, and then press it carefully over a big smooth stone, or anything else that is smooth, so that no air can get in. if you and the string are strong enough, the sucker will lift great weights. skipjacks the wish-bone of a goose makes a good skipjack. it should be cleaned and left for a day or two before using. then take a piece of strong thin string, double it, and tie it firmly to the two ends of the wish-bone, about an inch from the end on each side. take a strip of wood a little shorter than the bone, and cut a notch round it about half an inch from one end. then slip it half way between the double string, and twist the string round and round until the resistance becomes really strong. then pull the stick through to the notch, into which the string will settle, and tie it at each side, so that it is not likely to slip either way. a little piece of cobblers' wax must be put on the bone on the other side to that where the stick naturally touches. pull the stick right over to stick on the wax, and lay the skipjack, stick downward, on the ground. in a little while the wax will give way, and the wish-bone will spring high into the air. [illustration: a skipjack] a water-cutter [illustration: a water-cutter] the cut-water is best made of tin or lead, but stout cardboard or wood will serve the purpose. first cut the material into a round, and then make teeth in it like a saw. thus:--then bore two holes in it, as in the drawing, and thread strings through them, tying the strings at each end. hold the strings firmly, and twist them a little. then, by pulling at them to untwist them, the cut-water will be put in motion, first one way, while they are being untwisted, and then the other, while they twist up again. if held just over a basin of water, the notches will send spray a great distance, but you must be careful to dip them only when the cut-water is revolving away from you, or you will be soaked. whistles with a sharp knife a very good whistle can be made of hazel or willow, cut in the spring or early summer. a piece of wood about three inches long should be used. remember what an ordinary tin whistle is like, and cut the mouthpiece at a similar angle, and also cut a little nick out of the bark, in the place of the hole immediately beyond the mouthpiece in the metal instrument. then cut all round the bark about an inch from the other end of the stick, hold the bark firmly with one hand clasped round it, and hold the inch at the opposite end firmly with the fingers of the other, and pull. the greater portion of bark should slide off quite easily. you will then have a tube of bark about two inches long, and a white stick about three inches long, with an inch of bark remaining on it. cut from the mouthpiece end of this stick as much as exactly fits between the end and the little nick in the bark which you have already made. shave the top until it is flat (just as in an ordinary whistle), and place it inside the bark again. then cut off from the white part of the stick all but a quarter of an inch: fit this into the other end of the bark tube, and you ought to get a good shrill whistle. it will be better if you keep a pea inside. christmas--evergreen decorations getting ready for christmas is almost as good as christmas itself. the decorations can be either natural or artificial or a mixture of both. in using evergreens for ropes, it is best to have a foundation of real cord of the required length, and tie the pieces of shrub and ivy to it, either with string or floral wire. this prevents any chance of its breaking. for a garland or any device of a definite shape, the foundation could be a stiffer wire, or laths of wood. ivy chains are described on page . paper decorations the simplest form of paper chain is made of colored tissue paper and glue. you merely cut strips the size of the links and join them one by one. for paper flowers, paper and tools are especially made. but for the purposes of home decoration ordinary tissue paper, wire, glue, and scissors will serve well enough. mottoes mottoes and good wishes can be lettered in cotton wool on a background of scarlet or other colored linen or lining paper. scarlet is perhaps the most cheery. or you can make more delicate letters by sewing holly berries on to a white background; and small green letters can be made by sewing box leaves on a white background. for larger green letters and also for bordering, holly leaves and laurel leaves are good. cotton-wool makes the best snow. christmas trees. in hanging things on the christmas tree you have to be careful that nothing is placed immediately over a candle, nor should a branch of the tree itself be near enough to a candle to catch fire. after all the things are taken off the tree there is no harm in its burning a little, because the smell of a burning christmas tree is one of the best smells there is. to put presents of any value on the tree is perhaps a mistake, partly because they run a chance of being injured by fire or grease, and partly because they are heavy. the best things of all are candles, as many as possible, and silver balls which reflect. on the top there should, of course, be either a father christmas, or a christ child, as the germans, who understand christmas trees even better than we do, always have. for lighting the candles a long taper is useful, and for putting them out, an extinguisher tied to a stick. bran-tubs or jack horner pies bran-tubs or jack horner pies are not so common as they used to be, but there is no better way of giving your guests presents at random. as many presents as there are children are wrapped up in paper and hidden in a tub filled with bran. this is placed on a dust-sheet, and the visitors dip their bands in and pull out each a parcel. the objection to the bran-tub is that boys sometimes draw out things more suitable for girls. this difficulty could be got over by having two tubs, one for girls and one for boys. sometimes the ribbon of each parcel is long and falls over the edge of the dish. the boys take one color ribbon, and the girls the other, and all pull at the same time. philopenas two games with nuts and cherries may as well go at the end of this section as anywhere else. almonds sometimes contain double kernels. these are called philopenas, and you must never waste them by eating both yourself, but find some one to share them with. there are several ways of playing. one is "yes or no," in which the one who first says either "yes" or "no" must pay a forfeit to the other. another is "give and take," in which the one that first takes something that the other hands him is the loser. or whichever of you first says to the other "good morning, philopena," on the following day, or the next time you meet, wins a present. or this is sometimes played that whoever first answers a question put to him by the other must pay a forfeit. of course this makes great fun in trying to invent and evade plausible questions. cherry contests cherry-eating races can be very exciting. the players stand in a row with their hands behind them, and a number of long-stalked cherries are chosen from the basket and placed by the tip of the stalk between their teeth. at the word of command the players begin their efforts to draw the cherry up by the stalk into their mouths. all heads must be held down. candy-making utensils for making candy you will need an enamel or earthenware saucepan; a long wooden spoon; one or two old soup-plates or dishes; a bowl, if there is any mixing to be done; a cup of cold water for testing; a silver knife; and, if you are not cooking in the kitchen, a piece of oil-cloth or several thicknesses of brown paper to lay on the table. general directions butter the dish into which the candy is to be poured before you begin to cook. to do this put a little piece of butter on a piece of clean soft paper and rub it all over the dish. always stir round the edge as well as the middle of the saucepan. stir slowly but continually, for candy burns very quickly if left alone. the flavoring should be added just before taking the saucepan off the fire. to find out if your taffy or candy has boiled long enough, drop a little in the cup of cold water. if it at once becomes crisp and hard, it is done. before your candy is quite cold, mark it with a silver knife into squares. this will make it break up more easily and neatly when cold. barley sugar lb. powdered sugar. the white of an egg. / a pint of water. / a lemon. dissolve the sugar in the water, and add the well-beaten white of an egg (this must be done before the mixture is heated). then put on the fire in a strong saucepan. remove all scum as it rises, and when the syrup begins to look clear, take off the fire and strain through muslin. put the syrup back into the saucepan and let it boil quickly until you find by testing it that it is done. then add the juice of the lemon and pour on to a buttered dish. before the mixture sets cut it into strips and twist. chocolate caramels tea-cup golden syrup. tea-cup brown sugar. tea-cup milk. oz. butter. oz. powdered chocolate. a pinch of salt. drops vanilla. boil all together for half an hour, stirring continually. cocoanut caramels are made in the same way, except that oz. of grated or desiccated cocoanut is used instead of the chocolate. cocoanut cream - / lb. granulated sugar. oz. grated cocoanut. melt the sugar with as little water as possible. continue to let it boil gently until the syrup begins to return to sugar again. directly this happens put in the cocoanut and mix thoroughly. pour the mixture into a flat dish or tin. cocoanut cream (_another way_) cocoanut, grated. lb. granulated sugar. / a cup of cocoanut-milk. oz. butter. put the sugar, cocoanut-milk, and butter into a saucepan. when they boil, add the cocoanut gradually. boil for ten minutes, stirring all the time. pour the mixture into a basin and beat till nearly cold, then turn out into a dish. cocoanut drops / lb. cocoanut, grated. / lb. white sugar. the whites of eggs, well beaten. mix well together and bake in drops on buttered paper for fifteen minutes. cream caramels tin nestlé's milk. lb. soft white sugar. oz. butter. vanilla. melt the sugar with a very little water, and when boiling add the butter and nestlé's milk. stir continually, as the mixture burns very easily, for fifteen minutes. try in water to see if it will set. add the vanilla, pour into a dish, and beat until nearly cold. one ounce of cocoanut or of grated chocolate can be used instead of vanilla to flavor the above. fruit cream cocoanut, grated. - / lb. granulated sugar, moistened with a little cocoanut-milk. put the sugar in a saucepan and let it heat slowly. then boil rapidly five minutes; add grated cocoanut, and boil ten minutes. stir constantly. put a little on a cold plate, and if it makes a firm paste, take from fire. pour part of it into a large tin lined with greased paper; and add to what remains in the saucepan, chopped blanched almonds, candied cherries, nuts, etc. pour this over the other cream, and cut in bars. pop-corn the corn has to be "popped" over a clear fire in a little iron basket with a long handle. the corn is put in the basket and shaken continually, and in time each grain pops suddenly and becomes a little irregular white ball. these can be eaten with salt, or rolled in a sweet syrup (colored and flavored as you like it best) made of / lb. of white sugar boiled for ten minutes with a very little water. the plainest toffee oz. butter. lb. brown sugar. stir until done. another toffee lb. raw sugar. / lb. butter. small tablespoonfuls of syrup. the juice of half a lemon. half a teaspoonful of powdered ginger. melt the butter in a saucepan, and then add the sugar, syrup, and ginger. stir continually, adding a little lemon juice every now and then. boil for ten minutes, and then test in cold water. two ounces of blanched and split almonds can be added to the above. the almonds should either be mixed with the toffee just before taking it off the fire, or else a well-buttered dish should be lined with them and the toffee poured over. to blanch almonds, put them in a bowl and cover them with boiling water. put a saucer over the bowl to keep the steam in, and leave for about three minutes. then take out the almonds one by one and rub off their brown skins between your fingers. everton toffee lb. brown sugar. small cup of water. / lb. of butter. boil the water and sugar together very gently until the sugar is melted. then add the butter and boil all together for half an hour. molasses candy / lb. molasses. / lb. brown sugar. oz. butter. boil all together for half an hour. nut candy pint of chopped nuts. / lb. brown sugar. oz. butter. juice of one lemon. tablespoonful of water. boil everything, except the nuts, for twenty minutes, stirring all the time. test, and if done, add the nuts. stir them in thoroughly and pour off into a dish. nut candy (_another way_) lb. brown sugar. oz. butter. oz. chopped nuts. melt the butter in a saucepan, then add the sugar. boil from ten to fifteen minutes and then add the nuts. walnuts, brazil nuts, almonds, or peanuts (which have been baked) may be used. peppermint candy lb. syrup. oz. butter. small teaspoonful of essence of peppermint. boil the butter and syrup very gently until the mixture hardens when tested in water. add the peppermint and pour into well-buttered dishes. stuffed dates, etc. very dainty and good sweets can be made without cooking at all. all that is necessary is to have a certain amount of cream with which to stuff or surround stoned dates, cherries, and french plums, or walnuts and almonds. the cream is made in this way. put the white of an egg and one tablespoonful of water into a bowl, and into this stir gradually lb. of confectioner's sugar (confectioner's sugar or "icing" is the only kind that will do), working it very smooth with a spoon. this will make a stiff paste, which can be moulded into whatever shape you please. the cream can then be divided into different portions, and each portion flavored as you like best. a few drops of vanilla or lemon juice, a little grated cocoanut or chocolate, or some pounded almonds, make excellent flavorings. part of it can be colored pink with cochineal, or green with spinach-coloring. when this is done, stone some dates, french plums, or raisins, or blanch some almonds and slit them in two, or have ready a number of the dried walnuts which can be bought at any grocer's. only the perfect halves must be used. form some of the cream into little balls and put it between two walnut halves or two almond halves, or stuff the other fruit with it. trim all the sweets very neatly with a knife and roll them in granulated sugar. this is prettier when it has been colored pink or green, but there is no necessity to do so. to color the sugar, mix about oz. with a few drops of green or pink coloring; dry it thoroughly, and, if the grains are not quite free, put the sugar between some paper and roll it, or crush with an iron. another richer mixture for filling dates, etc., can be made as follows:--mix / lb. of ground almonds with oz. of ground pistachios. beat the whites of eggs to a stiff froth and add the almonds and / lb. of confectioner's sugar. color with green. almonds can be bought already ground. gardening introductory although young america is growing more and more fond of out of doors, the lovely old occupation of gardening is less a favorite than formerly: and this is a great pity, for if one loves flowers, nothing so repays labor as gardening. nor is it necessary to have a large tract of ground to cultivate. indeed a tiny piece, well tended, is both more interesting and more successful. a corner of a city back-yard--even a window-box can be a source of never-failing entertainment; although of course a little plot of rich earth in one part of a lawn or country garden, lends itself to greater and more extensive plans. the important thing about growing plants is to like to do it. if you are impatient of routine and neglectful you should not be intrusted with plants any more than with animal pets, for they are both entirely dependent on your care. it is your business, as a gardener, to know everything you can about your flowers. a gardener should be able to recognize seeds as well as seedlings; to know what treatment each flower likes best; and to exercise a special care for tender plants which need protection until there is no longer any danger of frost. the beauty of a flower depends very much upon its content. many flowers need particular soils; some need dry soil, some moisture, some shade, and some sun; and the gardener, who is a kind of mother to the flowers, will have to remember all those things. in return, the flowers, which have a real sense of gratitude to those who care for them tenderly, will do their best to grow beautiful. it is best to begin with a few flowers and to learn all that one can about these. annuals will scarcely ever fail if carefully sown in good soil. in making your choice, choose so that you will have flowers from spring to autumn. perennial plants are the most satisfactory of all to grow; for once planted they need only a very little attention and increase in size each year. bulbs produce some of the most beautiful flowers and are very easy to grow. but great care must be taken not to dig into them after their blossoms have died down. besides those flowers for the growing of which directions are hereafter given there are many tender ones which must be raised in frames. this is a part of gardening which can well be left until later and upon which instructions can be found in any more advanced book on horticulture. color in the garden in arranging a garden, select flowers which will keep it full of blossom from may to october, and remember when planting and sowing that some colors are more beautiful together than others. the color arrangement of a garden is always difficult, but one must learn by experience. scarlet and crimson, crimson and blue, should not be put together, and magenta-colored flowers are never satisfactory. whites and yellows, and whites and blues, are always suitable together, and for the rest you must please yourself. the use of catalogues a good catalogue gives illustrations of most flowers, and in many cases its cultural directions are very helpful. as an extension of the notes that follow nothing could be more useful than two or three catalogues issued by good growers. gardening diaries it is a good thing for a gardener to keep a diary. at the beginning of the book he would make a plan of the garden, to scale: that is to say, allowing one inch, or more, in the plan for every foot of bed. in this plan would be marked the position of the bulbs and perennial plants. the diary would take note of everything that happened in the garden. the sowing of seeds would be recorded; also when the seedlings first appear; when they are thinned out, and when they blossom: in fact, everything to do with the life of the plants. a little collection of drawings of seedlings would be of great use in helping to distinguish them another year. at the end of the book might be written the names of any plants that the owner would like to have, or any special information about the culture of a plant, or the description of some arrangement which had been admired in another garden. flower-shows where several children have gardens in the same big garden, or the same neighborhood, a flower-show is very interesting to hold now and then. to do this it is needful first to find some one willing to act as judge, and--if agreeable--to give several small prizes in addition to certificates of merit. the different things for which prizes are offered will depend, of course, upon what the competitors can grow. there might be prizes for different flowers, for collections of flowers, and for lettuces or radishes, if there are enough competitors who grow such things. but the most important prize would go perhaps to the owner of the best-kept garden. another for the best arrangement of bunches of flowers, garden and wild, might lead to some very pretty bouquets. tools for simple gardening the following tools are needed:--spade, trowel, hoe, rake, watering-can with a fine rose, syringe. they should all be strong and good. besides these tools you will need either wooden labels or other home-made means of marking seeds, some strong sticks to use as supports for tall-growing plants, and tape to tie them up with. a pair of gloves--any old ones will do--is very necessary. watering plants should never be watered when the sun is shining on them. early morning in spring, and late afternoon or early evening in summer, is the best time. it is best to water with water which has had the chill taken from it by standing in the sun or in the house. in watering seedlings and tiny plants, keep the rose on your watering-can; but with big plants it is better to take off the rose and pour the water gently, waiting every now and then for it to sink in round their roots. if the ground is very dry and baked, break up the surface of it round the plants with a rake, or push a fork carefully into the earth. this will help the water to sink in. water very regularly during hot and dry weather. it is very hard on your plants to give them a splendid drink one day and to forget all about them for a week. ferns should have a gentle spray bath every afternoon if you want to keep them fresh and green, and all leaves look the brighter for a shower from your watering-can. perennial plants, annuals, and rose-trees will greatly benefit if watered with slop-water while they are flowering. wall pockets if your garden is very small, but is against a sunny wall, the growing room can be increased by fixing a number of pockets, made of wood or of flower-pots, against the wall. these should be filled with good soil, and in them wallflowers, pinks, bulbs of different kinds, wandering jew, and some varieties of wild-flowers, etc., can be planted. borders the first thing to do when a plot has been given to you, is to mark it off clearly with a border. there are several ways of doing this. gardens are sometimes bordered with escallop shells, which are neat enough but seem rather out of place among flowers. tiles make another tidy artificial border; but the best is made of natural rough stones from six to twelve inches long. these stones, which should be sunk into a groove, are soon covered with patches of green moss, and if between their irregular ends you drop a few seeds of low growing annuals, such as candytuft; or plant little pieces of thyme, blue forget-me-not, or any kind of rockfoil or stonecrop, the border will become one of the prettiest things in the garden. if you prefer a growing boundary, a very nice stiff little hedge can be made by sowing endive in a line all round the garden, and, after allowing it to run to seed, cutting and trimming it. but of course there is no natural border to compare with box; but to get a good box hedge is a tedious matter. annuals the seeds of all annuals can be sown from march until june according to the locality. any one in the neighborhood who has gardened for some years can tell you when to plant better than any catalogue. the seeds of favorite flowers should be sown several times at intervals of a fortnight, so that you may have a succession of them through summer and autumn. preparations for sowing before sowing any seeds, see that the soil is nicely broken up, and remove any stones. when you have decided where to sow the different seeds, take away a little earth from each place and sow the seeds very thinly--remembering that each plant must be from four inches to twelve inches apart; cover lightly with the earth you took out and press it down firmly with your trowel. then mark the place with little pieces of white wood, on which the names of the seeds have been written with an indelible pencil. it is much easier to sow the tiny seeds thinly if you first mix them with a little sand. these must be only just covered by a very fine sprinkling of earth; but sweet-pea and nasturtium must be sown deeper. thinning out and transplanting begin to thin out the seedlings very soon after they appear, and be very careful not to pull up too many. it is easiest to thin out when the soil is wet. when the seedlings are two inches high only those which you wish to keep should be left in. it is not very easy to say exactly how much room to leave the different plants, but plants which will be six inches high should be about three inches apart; those which will be one foot high about six inches, and so on. godetia, nasturtium, love-in-a-mist, sweet-pea, cornflower, and larkspur seedlings can be transplanted when about two inches high, if you find you want them where they have not been sown. to do this water the ground well first, and then pull the seedlings out so gently that none of their tiny fibrous roots are snapped; and, if possible, bring away a little earth with each. re-plant them as quickly as you can, making for each a little hole big enough for the roots to spread out in. hold the seedling in position, and fill in with very moist earth; or else, after you have made the hole, fill it up with water, then put back some of the earth and stir it up into a sort of paste, and put the seedling in this, filling up the hole with the rest of the earth. seedlings that have been transplanted must be kept moist until they have taken a good start, and if possible they should be shaded with a branch of evergreen, for they droop very quickly in the heat. all seedlings must be watered gently and often. if you notice how quickly the sun dries the surface of the ground, you will see how necessary it is to keep the ground moist until the roots get bigger and go down deep into the earth. weeds and seedlings it is most important to know what the baby-plants will look like when they come up, because one has to weed hard in the warm showery weather, and if one is not careful, mignonette, sweet-peas, and poppies may go on the rubbish heap, and chickweed and purseley be left on the flower-bed; which, although it is what the birds like, will, later, be very disheartening to you. of course, if your seeds are well marked, there will be less difficulty, but even then weeds will come up amongst them. the only safe way is to get to know the appearance of all the seedlings, and to help you to remember it is a good thing to make little drawings of them in your garden note-book. autumn sowing some seeds, such as cornflowers, godetias, and poppies, can be sown in the autumn. they will stand the winter as a rule and will make finer plants and blossom earlier than if sown in spring. they should be sown thinly in open ground. any good catalogue will give you a list of annuals suitable for your purposes and with a little advice from an older gardener you will have no difficulty in selecting wisely. biennials these are best sown in may. if the garden is full they may be sown in an ordinary wooden box filled with several inches of good earth. transplant them to their permanent places later on. remember that all plants will flower for a much longer time if the flowers are kept cut and any faded ones taken off. saving seed the best seed is saved from plants set apart for that purpose; for good seed comes from the first and finest flowers and not from those left over at the end of the flowering season. these plants should be sown in a little patch by themselves, should be allowed to run to seed, and carefully tended until the seed-pods are ripe enough to be gathered. if, therefore, you have not a large garden, it is best to buy most of your seed each year, using a little of your own, from which, however, you must not always expect the finest flowers. if you have no wish to keep any of your flowers merely for seeding purposes but still want, while getting flowers from them, also to save a few seeds, the thing to do is to mark one or two of the finest blossoms with a tiny piece of wool or silk (it is better when it is the color of the flower) and let it go to seed. take special care of the plant, and cut off all other flowers as you wish to gather them. watch the seed-pods when they are formed, and when they are ripe--that is, brown and dry--cut them off, break them open, and spread the seeds out. look them over very carefully to see that there are no maggots amongst them, and if they are at all damp leave them in a warm place until they are dry. then make them up in little packets, clearly labeled with their names, colors, and the date, and put them away in a dry place until next spring. in saving sunflower seeds choose your best sunflower, and when the petals have fallen tie it up in muslin, or else the birds will steal a march on you. in gathering sweet-pea pods one has to be rather clever, because when they are quite ripe they burst open and the seeds fly out suddenly, sometimes just as one is going to cut them. in one poppy pod there are hundreds of seeds, enough to stock a garden, and the same is the case with the pretty pods of love-in-a-mist. nasturtium seeds should be picked up when they fall on the ground, and spread out until quite brown and dry. cornflowers, which have little seeds like shaving-brushes, generally sow themselves, and marigolds do too, but they are both easy to save. in choosing a place in which to keep seeds through the winter remember that damp is not the only danger. mice enjoy them thoroughly. perennials perennials are plants which, although they die down in winter, come up again and blossom every following spring or summer. they can be grown from seed, but, with a few exceptions, this is a long and troublesome part of gardening, and it is best to get them from friends or from a nurseryman. planting perennials the best months for planting perennials are november, february, and march. dig a hole large enough to take the roots when well spread out, hold your plant in position, with the junction of stem and root just below the level of the earth, and fill in gently with fine soil, pressing it down firmly all round the plant, and if there is danger of frost protect the plants with straw, bracken, or a mulching of manure. never water if there is any likelihood of frost. here follow some general remarks concerning the treatment of perennials through the spring, summer, and autumn:-- slugs in the spring, slugs, which eat the tender new leaves of many plants, can be kept away by sprinkling coal-ash around them. watering in hot weather, water perennials regularly and well, breaking up earth around them so that the water sinks in easily. supports all tall-growing perennials will need stakes to support them. care must be taken not to injure the roots when putting these in. the stalks can be tied with twine. dividing perennials can be divided if they grow too large. with summer-flowering plants this should be done in october or november, and with spring-flowering plants in june. in dividing you simply dig up the plant and break off as much of it as you want, being careful not to injure the roots. as, however, there are many plants which, to be divided, must be cut, and as this is an operation which requires some skill and knowledge, it would perhaps be better to take advice. perennials from seed snapdragon, wallflower, pansies, and hollyhocks are very easily grown from seed. they can be sown in june (wallflowers are best sown in april) in boxes, and thinned out and transplanted to permanent places as soon as they are large enough. they will blossom the following year. seedlings seedlings of most perennials can be bought for a few cents a dozen. they should be planted as quickly as possible and watered well, and they will flower the following year. consult a good nurseryman's catalogue for a list of hardy perennials, as for the annuals. bulbs--general remarks a garden that is planted only with bulbs, or with bulbs and a few ferns, can be kept beautiful all the year round. many of our loveliest flowers come from bulbs, and they are easy to grow and interesting to watch from the moment that the first leaf-tips push through the earth until they die down. the position of all bulbs should be very carefully marked on the beds and in your garden-plan, so that you will not cut or injure them when digging your garden over. the first bulbs to come--through the snow sometimes--are the snowdrops, single and double, crocuses--yellow, purple, lilac, and striped--and then the tiny bright blue squills; and a little later the yellow daffodil and white narcissus, hyacinths, and tulips of every kind. then white, red, and purple anemones, ranunculi, and wax-like stars of bethlehem. in june there are wonderful irises and tall spikes of summer-flowering gladiolus--red and white--and later still the tall garden lilies. there are many of these lilies, and all of them are exceedingly beautiful. two kinds should be in all gardens--the white madonna lily, and the orange tiger lily. all the bulbs that have been mentioned cost very little and can be grown very simply. and all bulbs that have been mentioned can remain untouched for many years unless they exhaust the soil around them (when, instead of increasing as they should each year, the plants become poorer and smaller). never move a bulb when it is in active growth: after the leaves have died down is the right time. leaf-mould mixed with your garden soil will help to give you fine flowers. if the leaves of the bulbs are attacked by slugs, as they often are, sprinkle a little wood-ash all around them. planting bulbs for planting bulbs choose a day when the earth is dry, and make your holes with a trowel. if you want to make a clump of bulb-plants, take away the earth to the right depth from the whole area you wish to fill, place your bulbs in position, points upward, and cover over, pressing the earth firmly down. in planting a bulb in a hole made for it by a trowel, be very careful to see that it is resting on earth, and is not "hung," that is to say, kept from touching the earth underneath because of the narrowness of the hole. all bulbs may be protected during the winter by laying hay or straw over them. this must be neatly pegged down, and removed in march. cutting leaves never cut all the leaves of plants growing from bulbs, but allow those that are unpicked to die down naturally. if they look very untidy, as the leaves of the star of bethlehem always do, tie them up tightly. seeds of annuals can always be sown among bulbs, and they will hide dying leaves and fill up the places that are left vacant. shades "shades" are subterranean gardens: holes in the ground, some eighteen inches deep and about a foot square (or larger), the sides of which are covered with moss and little ferns. at the bottom you can sink a pot or a tin, which must always be kept filled with water. it is more interesting if a toad or a frog lives there. over the hole stands a shade made of glass and wood, which, together with the water, keeps it cool and moist. kitchen gardens if you want to grow other things besides flowers, lettuces, radishes, and mustard and cress are interesting to raise. strawberries, too, are easy to cultivate, but they need some patience, as the first year's growth brings very few berries. in sowing the seeds of lettuce, radish, and mustard and cress, follow directions given for sowing flower seeds on page . if you want to grow even the few things mentioned, which need only very simple culture, the soil of the garden must be good. lettuce sow a few seeds of lettuce very thinly in a line once every three weeks. when the seedlings, which should be protected from birds by netting, are three inches high, thin them out, leaving one foot between each plant. the seedlings that are pulled up can be transplanted or eaten. transplanted lettuces should be shaded during hot weather and given plenty of water. during dry and hot weather you may water lettuces every day. radishes sow a few radish seeds thinly once every three weeks, and cover very lightly with earth. these seedlings also must be protected by netting from birds, and must have plenty of water, or the radishes will become stringy and poor. in summer sow in a shady place. mustard and cress mustard and cress seed can be sown at any time and is almost sure to be successful. in very hot weather sow in the shade, or protect from the sun in the middle of the day. the cress should always be sown three days before the mustard. it is a favorite device to sow one's name in mustard and cress. for other ways of treating it, see page . strawberries plant strawberries carefully in august or september. dig a hole for each plant and spread the roots well out. hold the plant while filling in the earth, so that that part of it where root and stem join comes just below the soil. each plant should be eighteen inches from its neighbor. cut off all runners--that is, the long weedy stems which the plants throw out in spring, and water well if the weather is dry. protect the strawberries from birds, and watch very carefully for slugs, which are greedy strawberry-eaters. when the fruit begins to form, lay some straw on the earth under and between the plants. this will keep the berries clean. town gardens so far, we have been speaking of gardens in the country, or, at any rate, not among houses. there are many more difficulties to contend with in town gardening; there is more uncertainty, and often less reward for the greatest care, than in country gardening; but the flowers that do grow seem so sweet between dull walls and under smoky chimneys, that one can forget how much more luxuriant they could be in other circumstances. flowers for towns the following list of annuals, perennials, and bulbs which grow well in the heart of towns, though it is not complete, contains enough plants to fill a garden:-- annuals. perennials. bulbs. alyssum. jap. anemones crocuses. candytuft. campanulas. daffodils. collinsia. delphiniums. hyacinths. coreopsis. flags. madonna lillies. mignonette. gaillardias. squills. nasturtiums. pinks. spanish irises. poppies. sunflowers. tulips. sunflowers. wallflowers. winter aconite. in addition to the plants mentioned above, hardy ferns grow well, and so do lilies of the valley, and stonecrops and saxifrages. wandering jew will also thrive, and the canary creeper grows as well in town as in the country. in summer, geraniums, fuchsias, heliotrope--which must be well watered--pansies, lemon verbena, and scented geraniums, can be planted out. roses do not do very well in towns; but hardy ones will grow quite enough flowers to make the possession of them a great delight. indoor gardening and window boxes--precautions a window full of flowers and green plants makes all the difference to a room. there are always certain difficulties about growing plants in a room; but these may, however, be partly overcome. one is the great change of temperature between day and night in winter; another is the very evil effect of gas on plants; and a third is the presence of dust. the difference of temperature is met to a great extent by taking the flowers away from the window at night and putting them in the middle of the room. this is specially necessary when there is any danger of frost. if gas is burned in the room where plants are all day, it is wise at evening to take the trouble to move them into another room, for nothing injures them more. as to dust, ferns and plants which have smooth leaves should be gently sponged with warm water once a week, or else the pores will be so choked that the plants will not be able to breathe. those plants which cannot be sponged, such as fine-leafed ferns, geraniums, etc., should be gently sprayed occasionally, or, in warm weather, placed out-of-doors during a soft shower. when a room is being cleaned, the plants should either be taken away or covered with soft paper. the window chosen for your plants should be a sunny one and as draughtless as may be. it should not be opened unless the day is very mild. one thing to remember is that wherever the plants are they should have as much sun, as equal a temperature, and as little draught as possible. watering no exact rule can be given for watering; but it should be noted that water ought never to be allowed to stand in the saucers. in winter, one good watering a week with lukewarm water, applied in the morning, will be sufficient. in spring, when the plant is more active, more water will be needed, and in summer constant attention must be given to watering. remember, that not only the surface but the whole soil needs moistening. flower-pots in spring time, if the plants seem to have outgrown their pots, or if they are not thriving well, re-pot them in larger pots with the best earth you can get. water well after re-potting. turn the plants round every day, as the sun always draws them toward it. indoor plants a list follows of suitable plants to be grown indoors. green plants are mentioned first. _aspidistra._--of all green plants the aspidistra is the best to grow indoors. (this plant indeed is so hardy that it will stand not only draught but even a certain amount of gas.) its smooth, beautiful leaves should be carefully sponged every week. _india-rubber plant._--the india-rubber plant is a very handsome, smooth, bright-leaved plant. it should not be given too much water. _ferns._--several hardy ferns grow well in a window. the maidenhair is very beautiful while it lasts, but it is a poor thing the second year unless it can be put into a greenhouse and cared for. _ivy._--small-leaved variegated ivy will grow under almost any conditions. its leaves should be kept clean. if grown up a small trellis it is very pretty. _japanese fern balls._--in february and march one can buy japanese fern balls. the balls have to be soaked for two or three hours in water (rainwater if possible) and then drained and hung up in a window where there is not too much sun. they should be watered three times a week. gradually the delicate ferns will grow and unfold until the whole ball is a mass of green. in november they should be put away in a cool dark place until the following february, when they can be started again. _miniature trees._--fine little trees can be grown from chestnuts, beechnuts, acorns, and hazel-nuts. collect the nuts as they fall and leave them in a dark place, until about two weeks before christmas, when you lay them in bowls full of wet moss or in pots filled with earth, and put them in a warm dark place near hot pipes, or in a warm cupboard. this warmth will start the root growth. when the root is two inches long, fill a bowl with moss or pebbles, lay the nuts on the top so that they are only half covered, with the roots downward, and keep in a room where they will have plenty of light. water frequently but do not let much water stand in the bowl. _wheat or canary seed._--wheat or canary seed can be sown in any kind of dish, the bottom of which is covered with wet moss. sow the seed thickly and then keep the dish in a dark cupboard until the seedlings are about two inches high. then place it in a sunny window. the seed, which will take about three weeks to grow, makes a beautiful patch of clear light green in a room. keep the moss wet. _mustard and cress_ can be sown in pots or on pieces of wet flannel. _campanulas._--blue and white campanulas are grown in almost every cottage window, and they are very beautiful and graceful. they can be grown in pots, but are prettiest in baskets from which to hang down. _fuchsias and geraniums._--both fuchsias and geraniums are gay and delightful plants for a room. good kinds should be bought in early summer and well watered. in winter the plants should be kept in a cool dark place, until with the coming of spring they begin to grow again. both can very easily be increased by cuttings. to do this take off a shoot of about four inches long, cutting it off just below a joint. then pull off the leaves just above the joint and put it into some earth in a sunny corner and water it well. in about a month roots will have formed and it can then be potted. _bulbs._--bulbs, such as tulips, iris, daffodils, crocuses, scillas, and snowdrops, can be grown in pots or deep earthenware saucers that have been filled with cocoanut fibre. this can be bought at any florist's. a little shell, shingle, or sand, can be mixed with the fibre, and a piece of charcoal should be put at the bottom of the pot to keep it sweet. the bulbs need only to be covered with a thin layer of damp fibre. water regularly, as they must never get dry. if your pot has no drainage hole it is a good thing a little while after watering to turn it gently on one side so that any water which has not been soaked up by the fibre can run off. bulbs can also be grown indoors in earth. plant them in october just below the soil, and keep them in a cool dark place until they have made a little growth. then bring to a sunny window. horsfieldii narcissus, polyanthus-flowered narcissus, and yellow jonquils, grow well, and so do tulips, hyacinths, and crocuses. in a sunny window the scarborough lily (_vallota purpurea_) can be grown. it is a very gorgeous and imposing red flower which blossoms in august and september. it should be planted in autumn and plenty of room allowed for its roots. the good-luck lily, which is a strong and beautiful polyanthus narcissus, can be grown in bowls filled with pebbles and water. fill the bowl almost to the top with clean pebbles (which can be brought from the seashore), and among them plant the bulbs and fill up with water which must be added to as it evaporates. among the pebbles put two or three pieces of charcoal. bulbs in glasses hyacinths and daffodils can also be grown in glasses filled with water, either glasses sold for the purpose, or any kind into the necks of which the bulbs will fit. the bulb should be placed in the glass in october, and should not quite touch the water. use good fresh water and put a little piece of charcoal in the glass. change the water once a week. in warm sunny weather the hyacinths can be put out of doors for a little while every day. window boxes one cannot grow very many things in a window box, but it is most interesting to grow a few. in a town it is often all the garden that many people possess. the length of a window-box will depend on the size of the window. its depth should be ten inches at least. at the bottom of the box some cinders or other rough material should be put, and then it should be filled up with the best earth you can get. and because of the difference it makes to the growth of your flowers it is worth while to take a great deal of trouble in getting good, rich mould. the earth may be kept level, or heaped up at one or both ends, and a few stones added to make a tiny rockery, in which you can grow small saxifrages and other rock plants. flowers for window-boxes nasturtiums and canary creeper can climb up a little trellis made of sticks at each end of the box, or they can cling to strings fixed to the box and nailed high up at the side of the window. wandering jew or ivy-leaved geranium will fall over the front of the box and make it look very gay. bulbs, such as winter aconite, squills, snowdrops, a few daffodils, tulips and irises, will grow well in boxes. these should be planted rather deep. then primroses and forget-me-nots can be planted, and in may a border of lobelia, one or two geraniums, pansies, fuchsias, a plant of lemon verbena, and some musk. mignonette, virginia stock, collinsia, should be sown in spring in little patches or lines. keep the leaves of all the plants as clean as possible by gentle watering with a rose. never let the earth get dry from neglect, or sodden from too much watering; yet water well, for driblets only affect the surface, and it is the roots far down in the box that need moisture. cutting flowers and packing them--flowers for post it is best, if possible, to pick flowers the day before you want to send them off. pick them in the afternoon, sort them and bunch them up, and then stand them in water right up to their heads, and keep them there over night. a basin is the best thing to put the flowers in, unless the stalks are very long, and a jam-pot or two in the water will help to keep them from tumbling over and drifting about. be very careful that the blooms do not touch the water. keep the flowers in water until you are ready to pack them. tin boxes are best to send flowers away in; but generally one has to use cardboard ones. choose the strongest you can find and line it with two sheets of paper, one across and one long ways, and each long enough to fold over when it is full. then line again with some big cool leaves or moss. dry the flowers and pack them as tightly as possible, taking great care not to crush the petals. cover them with a few more leaves and fold the paper over. then wrap up the box, remembering to write the address on a label tied at one end of the box, so that the postmark will not be stamped on the box itself and perhaps break it. picking flowers when you are picking flowers to send away, never pick old ones. buds are best generally, especially in the case of poppies; but they should be buds just on the point of opening. always use scissors to cut flowers with. a very slight tug at a little plant in dry weather pulls its roots out of the ground. cut the flowers with long stems and with some of their green leaves, and at the top of the box that you are sending away it is pleasant always to put something which smells very sweetly--lemon verbena, or mignonette--for that first sweet scent is one of the very best things about receiving a present of this kind. the reception of flowers when flowers are sent to you, each stem should be cut with a slanting cut before you put it in water. flowers with very thick or milky stems should be slit up about half an inch, and woody stems are best peeled for an inch or two. put the flowers deep into water that has had the chill taken off it. always put flowers in water as quickly as possible after they are picked. change the water every day, and recut the stems if they look at all brown or dry. pets in no case do the following hints as to the care and character of pets go so far as they might. but they lay down broadly the most useful rules. in cases where a dog or bird is really ill, and ordinary remedies and treatment do not help, the advice of some one who knows should be asked. it is because all children are in touch with some one who knows, that this chapter is not longer. the aim of the writer of most of the notes which follow has been to describe those creatures which are most commonly kept as pets, with a few suggestions as to their care in ordinary health. dogs: their care and food all dogs need plenty of exercise; indeed it is scarcely possible to give them too much when once they are over six months of age. after twelve months they can follow a horse, but a bicycle as a rule is too fast for a dog, and the excessive exertion is likely to make them ill. plenty of fresh air and freedom are necessary, and your dog should never be chained except at night, when he should have a snug bed away from any draught. the house is the best place for a dog to sleep, but should he live in a kennel it must be a roomy one, filled two or three times a week with clean straw and raised from the ground about six inches so that it will keep dry. kennels with runs in front are the best, as then the dog need never be chained. in these there should be a wooden bench for him to lie on, sheltered by a sloping roof. an earthenware trough of clean water he must always have, and most dogs will do best if they are fed twice a day: a light breakfast of biscuit or brown bread and a good dinner of scraps or dog-biscuit soaked in gravy with vegetables and plenty of rice. a rounded leather collar is best for dogs with long hair, as it does not show so much or spoil the coat, but for smooth-coated dogs a flat plain collar is best. washing dogs dogs should not be washed very often, nor will this be necessary if they are well brushed every day. a stable dandy-brush is best for short-coated dogs, and a hard hair-brush, or one of those with metal bristles, which can be bought in most saddlers' shops, for long-coated ones. common yellow soap and soft thick towels should be used when your dog really needs a bath. have a pailful of warm water, a pitcher to dip it up with, a piece of mild yellow soap, and a pail of cold water. pour a little warm water over the dog, beginning with his back, shoulders, and sides, and finish with his head, rubbing the soap into a lather all over him at the same time. be careful not to let any water into his ears, or soap into his eyes. next rinse the soap well out of his coat with the warm water, beginning with the head. then pour the cold water all over him and let him shake himself well. rub him dry with towels and give him a run on grass. big dogs must be washed in a yard, but you can put a little one in the tub indoors. all dogs are better for something to eat after a bath. to swimmers a plunge in a pond or river is good exercise and a tonic; but dogs should not be thrown in. feeding puppies puppies at first need feeding five times a day. at four months old four meals will do. at twelve months they settle down into grown-up dogs, and the two meals are sufficient. do not feed them later than six o'clock, and always give them a walk after their last meal. a few dry dog-biscuits when they go to bed will do no harm, and a large mutton or beef bone now and then will do them good, but small bones are very dangerous, as they splinter and may kill or seriously injure the dog. distemper young dogs are almost sure to have distemper, and if a puppy about six or eight months old is depressed and quiet, and his eyes look inflamed, you should put him away by himself at once, sew him up in thick warm flannel, bathe his eyes with cold tea, and attend very carefully to his diet. it will be difficult to make him eat, but you must coax him and even pour strong beef-tea or milk down his throat, for if he does not eat he will have no strength to fight the disease. tripe is the best food for him if he will take it, but try everything to tempt him, and give him as much as he will take. when you take your patient for a walk (and he will need exercise) do not take him where he may meet other dogs, for distemper is very infectious. put an extra coat over him, wrapping it well round his throat and chest. distemper is a fever, and the risk of chill is very great; it means inflammation of some sort from which the dog being weak is not likely to recover. it is always best to call in a veterinary surgeon when a dog shows symptoms of distemper. tricks for dogs if your dog is a terrier there is no end to the tricks you can teach him. always begin by teaching him to "trust," for it is the foundation of his training, and he will learn it before he is two months old. do not keep him "on trust" for more than a second or two at first, but gradually make the time longer, until he will let you leave the room and not touch the biscuit until you return. then you can teach him to die, and waltz, sing, ask, box, and beg. treat him always with patience and firmness; be quick to reward but never give in to him. you will, of course, bear in mind the character of the dog in teaching him tricks. dogs of dignified nature, such as st. bernards, mastiffs, great danes, and deer-hounds, for example, you would not labor to transform into performers. the best dogs of all for teaching elaborately are poodles. what is due to dogs do not overdo your mastership. remember that a dog needs much liberty and independence to develop his individuality, and an enterprising puppy learns more by observation and experience in a week than a pampered lap-dog does in his whole life; he learns self-reliance, but he will always run to his master or mistress in any real difficulty, and you who are his master or mistress must be wary not to misunderstand or disregard him, for he needs sympathy and love, and if he does not get them he either becomes cowed and stupid or a ne'er-do-weel. buying dogs if you wish to buy a dog, the best way is to get the catalogue of some big dog show, and find the address of a well-known breeder of the kind of dog you wish to have. if you write to him and tell him exactly what you want he will probably send you a suitable puppy at a fair price. if you think of buying through an advertisement, have the dog on approval first. another objection to buying a dog at all casually is that you will not know either his temper, which is generally inherited, or his age. in all cases it is best to buy puppies and train them yourself. this means a good deal of trouble at first, and takes time and patience, but the younger the puppy the easier he is to train. the best age is about five weeks old. with constant attention day and night for a few weeks you will have a perfectly trained dog who will be a perfect companion to you for years. brief descriptions of some of the best known dogs are here given, beginning with terriers:-- the bull-terrier the bull-terrier is very discriminating in his attachments and does not easily lose his temper, or, as a rule, fight, unless he is unduly excited. he is such a nervous dog that if he is roughly treated he is apt to become a coward, but there is no truer, more faithful friend than a properly trained terrier of this breed. the fox-terrier the fox-terrier is often a restless fidgety dog in a house; indeed, to keep him much in the house seems to affect his intelligence. he fights readily, but a strong master can alter that. in sharpness and brightness and hardiness he is not to be beaten, and no dog is more inquisitive and full of spirits. perhaps of little dogs he is the best. the irish terrier the greatest fault of the irish terrier is his fondness for barking unnecessarily; but he is particularly intelligent, active, and vigorous, and will learn any trick your ingenuity can devise for him. other terriers there are many other terriers--the skye, with coat nearly sweeping the ground; the black and tan, the welsh terrier, and others less well known; but for pluck, brains, and fidelity, it is impossible to beat bull-terriers. spaniels of all spaniels the clumber is the most intelligent and beautiful; he is also, although not a very demonstrative dog, very sincere in his devotion to his master. the cocker is a small spaniel: an active, merry little fellow who can be taught to retrieve. the black spaniel and the liver-colored sussex are, like the clumber, of the oldest and best breeds, and the sussex variety makes an excellent house dog. he is quiet and dignified and has very good manners. the common norfolk spaniel is intelligent, a good water dog, and a faithful companion. a satisfactory puppy should not cost more than five dollars. he and the cocker are the best of the spaniels as pets, although these two breeds are also capable of good work in the field if carefully trained. the retriever retrievers occasionally make good companions, but for the most part they are dogs of one idea--retrieving--and have little interest in using their intelligence in any other direction. setters the setter is a wise and affectionate animal. he is full of spirit and needs careful training, but train him well as a puppy and you will be able to take him everywhere with you, for he is a very gallant and courteous gentleman. in color the english setter varies with the different breeds. the gordon setter is black and tan, and the irish is red. the collie the reputation for uncertain temper which collies have is not well grounded. they are excitable, it is true, and apt to snap if you romp too long and wildly with them, and they do not take correction kindly; but people who have owned many specimens of this beautiful breed testify to having found them always loving and sagacious. a collie should always belong to one person; many masters make him too universal in his affections, and under these circumstances he does not develop intelligently. the collie at work is the wisest of dogs, he knows each individual sheep in his care, and in snow or mist will bring every one to the fold before he rests. collies may be taught to play hide-and-seek--a game they are very fond of. first hide a ball in the room and help the dog to find it, and by degrees he will find anything by himself and will seek all over the house and garden. among bad habits many collies have the serious one of running round and barking at horses. this should be checked by keeping the dog strictly to heel where he is likely to meet any traffic. the sheep dog the old english bob-tailed sheep dog is a bouncing, rough-and-ready fellow. he is not suitable for a house dog, but he is honest and true and a good worker, and one can get extremely fond of him. the newfoundland the newfoundland is one of the grandest of beasts. the true newfoundland is black all over, except for a white star on the chest, and he stands at least twenty-seven inches at the shoulder. the black-and-white specimens are called landseer newfoundlands, on account of the famous painter's fondness for them. in character these dogs are dignified and magnanimous, and they are particularly good with children. many stories are told of their gallant efforts in saving life from drowning. the newfoundland is used for draught in the island from which he takes his name. the mastiff the mastiff is the best of all guards; it is more pure instinct with him to guard his master's property than it is with any other breed. he is honest through and through, and as a rule he is gentle and a good companion. the bull-dog the bull-dog is stupid and not particularly affectionate. although excitable he is not quarrelsome or savage, and if reasonably treated no doubt would make a quiet, faithful pet. a not too highly bred bull-dog is likely to be more intelligent than his very blue-blooded relations. the st. bernard the most majestic of dogs is the st. bernard. he is high-couraged and sagacious and very discriminating in his devotion. once your friend, he is always your friend. although with you he never makes a mistake, he is apt to growl at strangers, and is not to be relied on to be polite to visitors. if you have one of the rough-coated variety you must groom him regularly and take great care of him, as he is a delicate dog and subject to weakness in the back and hind legs if he is allowed to get wet or lie on damp ground. the great dane the great dane, or boarhound, is a powerful and active dog. his appearance is suggestive almost of a wild beast, and he is particularly well fitted to act as guard. he is gentle and manageable with those he knows, and his great courage, intelligence, and strength make him a most desirable companion. hounds of hounds that hunt by sight we have the english greyhound, swiftest of dogs, but neither very intelligent nor affectionate; the scotch deerhound, dignified and very devoted to his master, and a wonderful jumper over gates and walking-sticks; and the irish wolf-hound, bigger and less graceful than either of the others, but with a great big heart and noble courage. gelert was of this breed. there is also the borzoi, whose appearance is a combination of greyhound and setter, a very beautiful but rather stupid animal. finally, there is the bloodhound, remarkable for great intelligence, good temper, and fidelity. he is one of the finest of dogs, wise and self-reliant and capable of the truest devotion to his master. he seldom or never fights, but is full of courage in spite of his naturally nervous disposition. toy dogs toy dogs are fairly intelligent, but noisy and wayward. they cannot be recommended as interesting pets, since they have little originality; but they can be taught tricks, and if treated sensibly and not pampered, no doubt they would develop more intelligence. the best of the toy dogs are pugs, toy pomeranians, the king charles' spaniel (black and tan in color), and the blenheim spaniel (white and chestnut). the pomeranian the pomeranian is a sharp and rather snappy dog, not remarkable for either great intelligence or amiability; but, as with all breeds, there are individual exceptions to this rule. poodles poodles are intelligent and the best of all dogs for learning tricks. they are also very expensive. mongrels mongrels can be the best of friends. they are often more original and enterprising than their too highly-bred cousins, and they are very self-reliant; but as a rule they are not so courageous nor so steadfast as a well-bred dog. the chief advantage of possessing a mongrel is that dog-stealers are less likely to be tempted by him, and you can give him more freedom, which will make him more interesting and intelligent than a dog you need to shut up and look after carefully. cats there is very little to say about cats, except that they need much petting and plenty of milk and tit-bits. they should always have a warm bed in a basket or chair. they should never be allowed to stay out-of-doors at night. wild rabbits of all rabbits the brightest and most intelligent, as a pet, is the wild rabbit. if you can get two or three baby wild rabbits and feed them on milk, they will grow up very tame. we heard recently of two small wild rabbits that were taken out of the nest and brought up by hand. they and their mistress and a collie pup would play together, and they ran about the room, racing over the floor and furniture. in the summer one escaped from the coop on the lawn in which they were shut up, so the other was turned loose too. they would both come out of the bushes when called, run about over one's dress, and hunt pockets for oats or bits of apple, and would still play with their old friend the collie. it is sad to tell of their death, which they met at the jaws of a strange dog who came marauding. they did not recognize in him an enemy, and easily fell his victims. tame rabbits the long-haired angora variety of rabbit is intelligent and very handsome. these need regular grooming and great care, or their long coat gets matted and frowsy. belgian hares are big, powerful animals, rather apt to be uncertain in temper, but they have beautiful glossy coats and are enterprising and amusing. the lop-eared rabbit is a stately beast and less brisk than his prick-eared relations. the himalayan rabbit has no connection with the mountain chain from which it has its name, is white, with all its extremities--nose, ears, tail, and feet--black or very dark in color. the dutch rabbits are small. the body is colored, but the neck, forelegs, and jaws are white. but to the ordinary owner of a rabbit in a hutch, particular variety does not matter very much. rabbits' hutches a good hutch can be made of a grocer's box, by covering the open front partly with bars or wire netting and making a door. the hutch should stand on legs, or at any rate should be raised from the ground, and holes should be bored in the bottom for drainage. then put in clean straw, and it is ready for the rabbit. in cold or wet weather and at night, it is well to throw a cloth over the hutch for warmth. the hutch must be well ventilated, and it should be made in two compartments, one to admit plenty of light, and the other dark. it should be made so that the animal may be confined in either compartment while the other is cleaned out. food and exercise bran, grain, and vegetables--such as peas, parsley, carrots, turnip-tops, but not much cabbage--serve for rabbits' food. it is advisable to vary it occasionally. the leaves should not be wet, but a dish of clean water may always stand in the hutch. the animal should be allowed at least half an hour's run every day, precautions being taken against its burrowing habits, and against its finding anything poisonous to eat. more than one family should not be allowed out at the same time, as they are very pugnacious. most diseases are the result of neglect in cleaning out the hutch regularly and thoroughly. rabbits which most nearly approach the wild in color are hardiest. teaching rabbits if you find you have an intelligent rabbit who quickly learns to come to you when you call him by name, you will find, with patience, you can teach him that when you say "on trust," he must not touch the dainty you offer him, and that "paid for" means he may have it. he will also learn to "die," and shake hands when you tell him to do so. guinea-pigs guinea-pigs need treatment and housing similar to rabbits. squirrels in buying a squirrel make sure it is a young one, because whereas a young one is difficult enough to tame, an old one is not to be tamed at all. unless you can give him a really large cage, with room for a branch on which he may leap about, it is cruel to keep a squirrel at all, so beautifully free is his nature. a little side compartment containing a revolving wheel should be added. your only chance of taming him is to be extremely quiet and gentle in all your visits to the cage and in giving him his food--nuts, acorns, grain, cold boiled potatoes, dry bread, and now and then a small piece of cooked meat. a very charming account of what it is possible to do with tame squirrels will be found in a little book called _billy and hans_, by mr. w. j. stillman. mice mice should have a cage with two compartments, one of which should have a door in the woodwork but no wires. in this room should be a bed of hay. the natural food of mice is grain, but in captivity they are generally fed on bread and milk and slices of apple. they can be tamed to a small extent, but for the most part they do no more than run round a wheel, although if other gymnastic contrivances are offered them they will probably do something with them. dormice (to whose food you may add nuts) sleep through the winter months, and are therefore not very interesting for more than half the year. turtles a turtle is rather an interesting animal to keep, although he will not do much in return. even in summer they have a curious way of disappearing for weeks together, and in winter, of course, you see nothing of them. an ordinary mud turtle is often seen moving slowly along the roads after a rain. he can be carried home by turning him over on his back--but be careful to keep your fingers away from his snapping mouth. as a rule they can feed themselves, and they also have the happy knack of doing without food altogether for long periods, so that you need not be anxious. fish bowls of goldfish are not uncommon, but few people seem to care for fish of other kinds. and yet a little aquarium can be stocked for a small sum and is a most interesting possession. one small tank of young bream, for example, can be a perpetual and continually fresh delight. let the tank have cloisters of rockwork and jungles of weed, so that hiding may be possible, and then watch the smaller fish at their frolics. young trout are hardly less beautiful, and very easy to keep healthy, in spite of general opinion to the contrary. the important thing is to maintain a current of water through the tank. the old way was to carry the overflow down a pipe in the centre through its surface opening, but an improvement on this system is for the leakage to be at the bottom of the tank and the inflow at the top. young perch are beautiful too,--and tench, and dace, and roach,--and all are hardy. feeding them is very simple. the shop from which you buy the fish will keep you supplied with the proper food. the american catfish, with its curious antennæ or whiskers, and its gleaming eyes, set as by a jeweler, is more wonderful, and not a whit more difficult to keep. but to be amused by such unfamiliar neighbors as a tankful of fish there is no real need either to stray abroad or to spend any money. the ordinary minnow, which you can catch in any stream and pop into a jar, will serve to introduce you to a new world--a world of silent progressions, of incredible celerities, of amazing respirations. silkworms silkworms, if kept at all, ought to be taken seriously and used for their true purpose. that is to say, you really ought to wind their silk carefully. few owners of silkworms in this country seem to trouble to do this. silkworms' eggs can be bought of any naturalist, or some one who keeps silkworms will willingly give you some. the time is about the end of april. they are usually laid on scraps of paper, and these you put in shallow paper and cardboard trays covered with gauze, and place them in the room where the sun can reach them. as the worms hatch out you must move them--it is done best with a small paint brush--to another tray or trays and keep them supplied with fresh mulberry leaves or lettuce. the worms continue to grow for about a month, and then, when full-sized, they prepare to spin. you may know that this time is reached by their refusal to eat, and you must then make a little paper toilet, about two inches deep, for each worm, and drop it in. you have now nothing to do (except to watch the worms regularly) for some weeks, in which time the cocoon has been finished and the worm has become a chrysalis. when the chrysalis inside the cocoon rattles the time has come to wind the silk, or the moth will shortly emerge and eat it. the outside of the cocoon is useless and can be removed by placing the cocoon in warm water. once that is out of the way, the silk can be wound on a card. the moth soon afterward appears and, after growing to its full size, lays its eggs--some two hundred--and dies. it must be remembered that with silkworms a little practical demonstration from any one who has kept them is worth much more than many pages of hints. one thing is of the highest importance, and that is constant attention. silkworms must never be neglected. other caterpillars silkworms are more useful but not more interesting than many other caterpillars which can be hatched from eggs. the privet hawk moth, for example, is very easily bred, and a very beautiful creature it is when in full plumage. but for information on this subject you must go to more scientific books. pigeons pigeons are not exactly pets, for they rarely do more than come to you for their food, just as chickens do, but they are beautiful creatures and no country roof is quite complete without them, and a dove-cot is a very pretty and homely old-fashioned object. usually, however, the birds are given a portion of a loft. whatever the nature of their home, it must have separate compartments for each pair of pigeons and must be warm. if a loft is used there should be sand or gravel on the floor, with a little lime to assist the formation of the shells of the pigeons' eggs. the place should be kept clean, and you must guard against rats and cats. pigeons eat peas and pigeons'-beans and most kinds of grain. if they fly loose they will find out other food, such as green meat, for themselves. but if you keep them at home you ought to give them some. they should have a dish of water in a regular place. new pigeons should be shut up by wiring in their house for a fortnight before you give them their liberty, or they will fly away. they do not care for hay or straw in their boxes, but will make a nest in their own way when they need one. pigeons are of many kinds, the commonest of which is perhaps the runt, and the prettiest a white fantail. any one who takes up pigeons except merely for the pleasure of owning one or two should read up the subject carefully. doves doves, which are happier when kept in pairs, require the same food as pigeons. as a rule they are kept in wicker cages. they are not very interesting. parrots parrots are most companionable pets, and, next to a dog, quite the most interesting and intelligent. they are always cheerful: whistling, singing, and talking. the gray parrot is the best talker, and speaks much more distinctly than any other kind, but the blue-fronted amazon is more amusing and far better-tempered as a rule. these birds are very beautiful, with bright green plumage and touches of yellow and red, and a blue patch on the forehead. the best food for parrots is parrot seed, on which they may be fed entirely, and they should never be allowed dainties except nuts, fruit, and a little piece of sugar. in the summer time sprinkle your parrot with water through a fine hose every morning, but in the winter do so only when he asks for a bath by trying to get into the water basin. as to talking, parrots will pick up far more readily any words they hear by accident than any that you set yourself to teach them. they will also get by heart in this way a few bars of a whistled tune. when parrots are apparently spiteful it often proceeds much more from nervousness than from vice. if frightened they will peck anything near them. it is important to have a thick baize cover for your parrot's cage, and to put this over it directly the lamps are lit. smaller cage birds before coming to the different kinds of birds which you can keep, a few general words about their care ought to be said. remember that with them, as with all pets, the most important of all rules is perfect cleanliness. the best cages are wooden ones with unpainted wires, and the perches should be of different thicknesses, as, if they are all one size, the bird is likely to get cramp in his feet. once in a week at least the perches and tray should be scrubbed with very hot water with soda in it, but they must be dried thoroughly before they are put back into the cage; therefore if possible it is best to have two sets of perches and to use them alternately. a thick layer of red sand or shell gravel should be sprinkled on the tray, and occasionally a pinch of maw-seed thrown on it. baths all birds should have a bath given them. they like best a shallow glass dish, which should be put in the cage when the tray is out. it is a good plan to put a biscuit-tin lid on the floor of the cage to prevent the bird from making the woodwork wet. other rules in the care of all birds are--never let them be in a draught, but do not keep them in a very warm place. cover them with a white cloth at night, and in cold weather put a shawl over that. food seed-eating birds do best if they are fed on canary seed and a little summer rape, with now and then a few hemp-seeds, some hartz mountain bread, and a bit of groundsel or water-cress that has been well washed. if they look dull and sit in a puffed-up little heap, a drop of brandy in their water often does good; and, should they show signs of asthma, try chopped, hard-boiled egg, with a few grains of cayenne pepper, and a bit of saffron or a rusty nail in the water. these are also good when the bird is moulting. for insect-eating birds you must buy meal-worms and ants' eggs, and thrushes and blackbirds need earth-worms as well. tricks some birds are easily taught tricks. we remember a red-poll who would draw his water up from a well in the cage in a little bucket; but if you teach your bird to do this you must be careful to watch him, in case the string gets twisted and the bucket does not reach the water, when your pet will suffer terribly from thirst. he will also learn to pull his seed-box up an inclined board if you put it day by day a little farther from him, so that he must draw the string to get his food. it is better to take a long time in training birds, and tempt them with any dainty they care most for, such as water-cress, groundsel, chickweed, or hemp-seed, as otherwise you must starve the bird first, or he will not trouble to get the seed. this means a certain amount of cruelty and cannot be right. canaries the favorite cage-bird is the canary, which, though a foreign bird, is kept in this country in greater numbers than any other bird, and is also bred here. one has to be very well posted up in the nature of the bird to be protected against deception when buying it; and you ought therefore, in getting a canary, to find some one competent to buy what you want. canaries must be kept carefully. they cannot stand much air. be particular that the cage does not hang in a draught, and let it be large enough for comfort. when evening comes it is kinder to take the cage out of a room in which there will be much light and noise, and put it somewhere dark and quiet, as the air of a room where gas is burned is not good for it. but if moving the cage is not convenient, lower it to a position below the level of the burners and cover it up with a thick cloth. by day the cage should be hung in the sunshine if possible, but if the sun is very hot a green gauze cover ought to protect the bird a little. if the bird's singing is too lusty--as sometimes happens--a handkerchief thrown over the cage will check it; but this seems rather hard treatment. in feeding canaries follow the rules on p. , but you may put a lump of sugar between the bars now and then, or a sprig of groundsel or water-cress. do not give them cake; it is no real kindness. when they are moulting, canaries (and other birds too) need rather more attention. give them a little richer food, such as chopped-up eggs, and put some saffron in the water. there is a kind of insect called the red mite which often attacks canaries. it is not the rule by any means that canaries should be thus troubled--many escape--but it may happen. if you cannot account for the bird's despondency in any other way, catch it and look at its skin under the feathers of the breast and the under part of the wings. if there are little red spots, it means that the red mites have found out the cage, and you must wash the bird every day with a weak solution of white precipitate powder--about twelve grains to a small glass of warm water--and either wash the cage too with a stronger solution, or, if it is a wooden one, destroy it. now and then you ought to clip their claws, if they seem too long. the love-birds the love-birds feed almost entirely on millet or canary seed, and they like a sod of grass in their cage. they are bright little birds, but are naturally very wild and need much petting if you wish to tame them. once tamed, however, they are very confiding and amusing. the cardinal one of the most beautiful of cage-birds is the red-crested cardinal. he is quite hardy and eats seeds and insects impartially, thriving on canary, millet, and a little hemp-seed, with meal-worms now and then. he should always have a very large cage, or he will spoil his plumage. his song is sweet and strong. wax-bills wax-bills eat millet-seed, canary seed, and a little soaked bread and sponge-cake. other foreign birds java sparrows are pretty creatures, although they do very little for you. perhaps the most attractive of small foreign birds is the avadavat, a tiny, perky little soldier. these live quite comfortably together; and indeed, if it is permitted, you should certainly, for the non-singing birds, have a large cage and keep many such birds in it rather than put them in small cages. they will be far happier. the chaffinch the chaffinch has to re-learn his song every spring, and for a fortnight or more you will hear him trying his voice very sweetly and softly, but as soon as he has acquired his song in perfection, it will be so strong and piercing that on fine days he often has to be banished from the sitting-room. he should not, however, be exposed too much to sun and wind; a cloth thrown over half the cage will make a shelter. the chaffinch is another bird that should never be put in a bell-shaped cage. he should occasionally have flies and other insects given him. he is lively and hardy and a very gay companion. the goldfinch we remember a goldfinch that became very tame, perching on his owner's hands and taking seed from her lips. goldfinches should never be kept in bell-shaped cages--which make them giddy--but should have one with a square flat top. along this they will run head downward. they are such active birds that they need plenty of space. they chatter all day long and are very cheery, and they are very beautiful in their brown, gold, and scarlet coats. in a wild state the goldfinch feeds chiefly on the seeds of weeds and thistles, groundsel, and dandelion, and he is therefore a friend to the farmer, but in captivity be will thrive on canary and german rape with several hemp-seeds daily, and now and then lettuce, thistle-seed, and fruit. the bullfinch the bullfinch is squarely built, with a black head and pink breast. no bird can be more affectionate and intelligent. he will learn to pipe tunes if you put him in the dark and whistle a few bars of some easy melody to him over and over again; and he soon gets a number of fascinating tricks. after a while you will be able to let him out of the cage at meal-times, when he will hop about from plate to plate and steal little tit-bits. no bird is so fond of sitting on its owner's shoulder as the bullfinch can be. also, unhappily, few birds are so liable to fatal illness. a bullfinch can be apparently quite well one minute and the next you find him lying at the bottom of the cage. over-eating is often the cause of his death, so that one must be careful. hemp-seed and apple-pips, for instance, which he loves, should be given in moderation. rape and millet, lettuce and ripe fruit suit him best. gardeners are great enemies of this sturdy little bird on account of the damage he does amongst fruit-trees, but he probably does a great deal more good than he does harm by eating insects which are fatal to plants. the yellow bunting the yellow bunting (or yellow hammer) can be a pet; and he has the sweetest little whispering song. if you have a caged bunting, his seed should be soaked in cold water for some hours before it is given to him, and he must have the yoke of a hard-boiled egg, meal-worms, ants' eggs, and any insects you can catch for him. he must also have plenty of opportunities for bathing, and as much fresh air without draughts as possible. the blackbird the blackbird is delicate when caged and must have plenty of nutritious food, bread and milk, boiled vegetables, ripe fruit, insects, and snails. he is a thirsty bird and needs plenty of water. birds of all kinds especially like cocoanut (though they will come to the window-sill simply for bread crumbs). the cocoanut should be sawn in two, and a hole bored through each half, about an inch from the edge. a strong string is then threaded in and they are hung from the bough of a tree. they should be hung rather high up, on a bough reaching as far out from the trunk as possible, so as to avoid all risk from the cat. the birds frequent elm-trees more than any others, because the rough bark contains many insects, but you may choose any kind of tree, as close to your windows as you like. the birds will keep pecking at the cocoanut all day long and will soon want a new one. if you have no tree near the house you might fasten a cord across the outer frame of your window and tie the pieces of nut to that. the birds would soon find out the cocoa-nut and come to it, and bread crumbs could also be put on the window-sill to attract them. or, if you have a veranda, they could be hung up there, if you could make them safe from the cat. mrs. earle, in her book _more pot-pourri from a surrey garden_, gives elaborate directions for an arrangement in a veranda or balcony of cocoanuts, etc., for the birds. lumps of fat will do as well as cocoanut. some birds also greatly love a bone to pick at--an uncooked one with plenty of fat on it, which the butcher will probably be glad to give you if you ask him and explain its purpose. it can be hung up in a tree or merely laid on the window-sill. the robin in the ordinary way one would not keep robins at all. they are so tame and fond of the company of human beings that they will come regularly to the door for crumbs every morning and never be far off at any time. but if a wounded robin is found or a nest is abandoned (probably owing to the death of the mother at the cat's hands) just before the young birds are ready to fly, you might pop them in a cage. they do not often thrive long in captivity, even if the confinement does not seem irksome, but to keep one until it was strong enough to be let loose would be a kindness. still there have been many cases of happy tame robins. the best food for them is bread crumbs, grated carrot, yoke of egg and sponge-cake mixed together, the carrot making the mixture moist enough. a few insects daily are advisable. robins are such quarrelsome birds that it is impossible to keep two of them in an aviary, or even to keep one robin with birds weaker than himself. perhaps the best way to treat a pet robin is to let him fly all over the house in the winter. he may one day fly away altogether in the spring, but if he is alive he is almost certain to come back again when the cold weather begins. garden robins robins in the garden are so pretty, so cheeky, so sweetly musical, and are so friendly to man (in spite of their arrogance and selfishness among birds) that they ought to be encouraged. as the only way of encouraging wild birds is to feed them, we have to try and give them what they like best. robins are quite content with bread crumbs only. they will eat sop if they can get nothing else; but they prefer crumbs, and not too dry. for an especial treat they like fat bacon beyond everything: cooked bacon, that has been boiled, not fried. it should be mixed up very small, and the bread also crumbled into tiny morsels, for robins like to eat very nicely and daintily. robins are pleased to have crumbs given them all the seasons through, though in the autumn they can very well take care of themselves. each robin has his own special domain, which any other robin invades at his peril. the robins that come to the window for food are those that belong to that particular side of the house and no other. this means that there are other robins is different parts of the garden which will have to be fed in their own special localities. you will soon find out where these are, even if you have not already been guided to them by their songs. robins like their food scattered always in the same place, or under the same tree, and, as nearly as you can, at the same time. then you will find them on the lookout for you, and if you take always the same basket (a rather shallow flat one which stands firmly) and, putting it on the ground, go a few steps away, you will see them hop into it. after a few days they will probably get tame enough to come into the basket while it is in your hand; only you must have a little patience at first, and hold it very still, and of course you must not have previously scattered any food on the ground. birds in the garden this brings us to the other garden birds which we have no wish to put in cages, but which it is well to be as kind to as possible. in winter, when there is a frost, to feed them is absolutely necessary; but at all times it is well that they should know that you are not enemies (of which they have so many), but their friends. the following notes, together with the foregoing passage on feeding robins, on birds in the garden have been prepared far this book:-- "birds are grateful all the year through for a shallow pan of water, which they can drink from and use also as a bath. and the bees, too, will be glad to come and get a sip of water, for they also are thirsty things. a small round yellow earthenware pan is excellent for the thrushes and blackbirds, but it is as well to provide a smaller one, say an ordinary shallow pie-dish, for the robins and little birds. these should be refilled twice a day, at least, in summer time. you can place the pans on the grass or path, where you can see them comfortably from the house, but not nearer than you can help, because the blackbirds are rather shy, and it would be a pity to make drinking too great an adventure for them. "birds are thankful for a little feeding right through the spring, both when the mother bird is sitting on the nest and the father has to forage for two, and when the young ones are hatched and there are at once many more mouths to fill. in the summer too, if it should be unduly wet and cold, or unduly hot and dry, and grubs and insects scarce, the young birds are pleased to find a meal ready for them. but in the winter it is a positive duty to feed the birds; for remember that when the ground is covered with snow, or frozen hard, they can get no insects, and thus, after all the berries have gone, they will starve unless they are helped with other food. "almost every household has enough waste scraps, if they are collected carefully, to give the birds a good meal once a day. bread, of course, will form the chief part, but nothing comes amiss to them, however tiny. morsels of suet, dripping, shreds of fat, meat, and fish, and cheese rind also, all mixed up together, are an especial treat. the mince should be well mixed with the bread crumbs, or all may not get a fair share. crusts, or any hard, dry bits of bread, can be scalded into sop (though, unlike chickens, wild birds do not seem to like it hot), and a little piece of dripping or fat, soaked with the sop, makes it more tasty for them. if the supply of bread be short, the birds will be very pleased with chickens' rice. it should be the 'second quality' kind, in the brown husk, which can be procured from most corn-dealers. but this is hardly necessary excepting in a long hard frost. starlings are especially fond of bones, and they will esteem it a favor if any which have been used in making soup, and are not required for the dog, are thrown out to them on the ground. their joyous chattering over them is quite cheering, even on the dreariest winter's day. they are also grateful for the rind of a ham or piece of bacon, after it has been boiled. this should be thrown out to them whole, not cut up in little pieces. they are equally fond of the bones and skin remains of a 'dried' haddock. "for the bolder birds, such as robins, you will like to put some food on the window-sills, and also on the path or grass close to the house. but remember the more timid ones, and scatter it in other parts of the garden as well. "sparrows, of course, deserve their food as well as any of the others; but it is rather hard to see them taking every morning much more than their share, while the less courageous or impudent birds (who also sing to you) get none. it seems impossible to prevent this, though mr. phil. robinson, in his book _garden, orchard, and spinney_ (in the chapter entitled 'the famine is my garden'), recommends scattering some oatmeal mixed with a few bread crumbs on one side of the house, to keep the sparrows occupied, whilst you feed the other birds elsewhere. sparrows, however, have a way of being on every side of the house at once. still, if you feed your birds daily, and as nearly at the same time as possible (they like it as soon as may be after your own breakfast), you will find them on the lookout for you, and they will manage to get a good share, if they all start fair, in spite of the sparrows. in a hard frost they are thankful for a second meal, but it should not be later than two o'clock, because birds go to bed very early in cold weather, and the food would be frozen too hard for them to be able to eat it next morning. "one word more. there is great danger of birds being caught by a cat while they are busy with their food, especially if near the bushes. the only possible protection against this which you can take is to see that your own cat is indoors and is therefore not the offender." reading all persons who care very much for reading will find their way naturally to the books most likely to please them; left alone in a library they are never disappointed. for them no advice is necessary. nor is advice important to those who have opportunities to compare notes on reading with friends who have similar tastes. for instance, two boys may fall to talking of books. "have you read _david balfour_?" one will say. "no; who's it by?" "stevenson." "what else did he write?" "well, he wrote _treasure island_." "i've read that. if _david balfour_ is anything like that, i must get it." he gets it; and thus, either by asking others whose taste he can trust, or by going steadily on through each author who satisfies him, he will always have as much good reading as he needs. but there are still other readers--who have no real instinct for books, or no memory for authors' names, or few opportunities of comparing notes--for whom a list of books that are worth trying, books which have been tested and found all right by thousands of readers, ought to be very useful. in the following pages a list of this kind has been drawn up. it is very far indeed from anything like completeness--many good authors are not mentioned at all, and others have written many more books than are here placed under their names--but those chosen are in most cases their best, and it will be very easy for readers who want more to find out other titles. the books named are for the most part not new. but before children read new books they read old; the new ones come later. what is suggested here is a ground-work. moreover, there are so many ways for new books to suggest themselves that to attempt the impossible task of keeping pace with them here was unnecessary. girls are such steady readers of what are called boys' books, and boys are occasionally so much interested in what are called girls' books, that the two groups have not been separated. all that has been done is to describe the nature of each division of stories. fairy tales nearly all the best old fairy tales are to be found in mr. andrew lang's collections, of which six are mentioned:-- the blue fairy book. the red fairy book. the pink fairy book. the green fairy book. the yellow fairy book. the orange fairy book. many families do very well with merely grimm's fairy tales. the arabian nights. andersen's fairy tales. Ã�sop's fables. these are traditional. first favorites among english whimsical tales are, of course, alice's adventures in wonderland by lewis carroll. through the looking-glass " " " of which there is no need to speak, nor of the water-babies by charles kingsley. the king of the golden river " john ruskin. the rose and the ring " w. m. thackeray. and among other good stories are-- fairy tales by alexandre dumas. mopsa the fairy " jean ingelow. prince prigio " andrew lang. the gold of fairnilee " " " twenty best fairy tales " lucy perkins. the bee-man of orn " frank r. stockton. the clocks of rondaine " " " old-fashioned fairy tales " mrs. ewing. lewis carroll's "bruno's revenge," the story which was the beginning of _sylvie and bruno_, is perfect in its way. legendary tales classical the heroes by charles kingsley. a wonder book " nathaniel hawthorne. tanglewood tales " " " the story of the odyssey " rev. a. j. church. the story of the iliad " " " stories from homer " " " romantic the morte d'arthur by sir t. malory. tales from shakespeare " charles and mary lamb. puck of pook's hill " rudyard kipling. stories from the faerie queen " mary macleod. heroes of chivalry and romance " rev. a. j. church. stories of the magicians " " " olaf the glorious " robert leighton. robin hood " howard pyle. men of iron " " " canterbury tales " chaucer. robin hood: his deeds and adventures " lucy perkins. ballads in prose " mary macleod. forgotten tales of long ago " e. v. lucas. old fashioned tales " " " tales from maria edgeworth. introduction " austin dobson. tales from the canterbury pilgrims. retold " j. h. darton. the book of king arthur " mary macleod. midsummer night's dream for young people " lucy perkins. the wonder book of old romance. here also we might place _gulliver's travels_. verse and poetry our first acquaintance with poetry is made through nursery rhymes. many collections of nursery rhymes may be had. and there are also a number of very charming picture books of simple verse, suitable for small readers, such as miss kate greenaway's mother goose. marigold garden. under the window. a. apple pie. mr. walter crane's baby's opera, baby's bouquet, and various toy books. four favorite books of comic verse are edward lear's book of nonsense. more nonsense. nonsense, songs and stories. four books, more recent, which come nearer to poetry than anything already mentioned, are-- verses for children by mrs. ewing. sing song " christina g. rossetti. lilliput lyrics " w. b. rands. a child's garden of verses " r. l. stevenson. a large collection of verse of the kind already described, with the addition of ballads, open-air rhymes, animal verses and other matter--intended to pave the way to real poetry--exists in a book of verses for children, another book of verses for children, compiled by e. v. lucas. after these, we come to collections containing real poetry, two excellent ones being the blue poetry book by andrew lang. a first [second and third] poetry book " m. a. woods. there is also lyra heroica by w. e. henley, a collection for boys. selections from tennyson, browning, and other poets, intended for children, have been made, but most young explorers of poetry like to have the complete works and hunt for themselves. other popular books of poetry are-- the golden treasury of songs and lyrics. poems every child should know. mr. c. r. d. patmore's children's garland from the best poets. miss agnes repplier's book of famous verse. h. e. scudder's american poems. the "original poems," and others by jane and ann taylor. national rhymes for the nursery " george saintsbury. the ballad book " w. allingham. lays of ancient rome " lord macaulay. lays of the scottish cavaliers " w. e. aytoun. the percy reliques. a thousand and one gems of poetry. scott. longfellow. hood. many boys also like the humorous stories in _barham's ingoldsby legends_. books about children to this section, which is suited more particularly for girls, belong a large number of stories of a very popular kind: stories describing the ordinary life of children of to-day, with such adventures as any of us can have near home. years ago the favorites were-- the fairchild family by mrs. sherwood. sandford and merton " thomas day. but these are not read as they used to be, partly because taste has changed, and partly because so many other books can now be procured. but fifty and more years ago they were in every nursery library. the swiss family robinson, the most famous family book of all, will be found in the adventure section, to which perhaps really belong feats on the fiord, the settlers at home, by harriet martineau, although these two, and the crofton boys may be included here. here also belong maria edgeworth's moral tales for young people. the parent's assistant, which, although their flavor is old-fashioned, are yet as interesting as ever they were. another writer whose popularity is no longer what it was is jacob abbott, the author of a number of fascinating stories of home life (on farms and in the country) in america in the middle of last century. the franconia stories are these:-- beechnut. wallace. madeline. caroline. mary erskine. mary bell. stuyvesant. agnes. and this is the rollo series, intended by mr. abbott for rather younger readers:-- the little scholar learning to talk. rollo learning to read. rollo at play. rollo at work. rollo at school. rollo's vacation. a list of other books, which come more or less rightly under the head of "stories about children" follows, the earlier ones being better suited to younger readers, and the later ones to older, the age aimed at in this chapter (and indeed in the whole book), ranging from five to fifteen. by kate douglas wiggin:-- polly oliver's problem. timothy's quest. by louisa m. alcott:-- little women. good wives. eight cousins. rose in bloom. spinning-wheel stories. little men. jo's boys. an old-fashioned girl. aunt jo's scrap bag. comic tragedies. the little pepper series, and the elsie books. by mrs. frances hodgson burnett:-- little lord fauntleroy. editha's burglar. the captain's youngest. sara crew. by mrs. whitney:-- we girls. faith gartney's girlhood. the gayworthys. leslie goldthwaite. by gelett burgess:-- goops, and how to be them. more goops, and how not to be them. goop tales. the lively city o'ligg. the burgess nonsense book. this section is necessarily more incomplete than any of the others, since it is impossible to keep pace with the great number of stories of this kind which are published every christmas. but a few more may be added:-- stories told to a child by jean ingelow. the lost child " henry kingsley. helen's babies " john habberton. the treasure-seekers " e. nesbit. holiday house " catherine sinclair. deeds of daring done by girls " n. hudson moore. children of other days " " " paleface and redskin " f. anstey. the silver skates " m. m. dodge. molly and olly " mrs. humphry ward. sweetheart travelers " s. r. crockett. sir toady crusoe " " " sir toady lion " " " no relations " hector malot. jogging 'round the world " edith dunham. a little daughter of the revolution " agnes sage. a little colonial dame " " " the house of the red fox " miriam byrne. the would-be witch " " " little barefoot from the german of auerbach. indian boys and girls by alice haines. japanese child life " " " little japs at home " " " jap boys and girls " " " according to grandma " " " when grandma was little " " " what grandma says " " " here also belong many of the stories of miss yonge, and we might perhaps place _uncle tom's cabin_ here too. boy and schoolboy stories in this section are placed stories of modern boys, either at home or at school, and their ordinary home or school adventures. among the best are-- tom sawyer by mark twain. and bevis by richard jefferies. others are-- the story of a bad boy by t. b. aldrich. my boyhood " h. c. barkley. the swan and her crew " g. c. davies. captain chap " frank r. stockton. the tinkham brothers' tidemill " j. t. trowbridge. the best school story will probable always be tom brown's school days by t. hughes. among the books of this kind meant rather for grownup readers, but read also by boys, are-- huckleberry finn by mark twain. frank fairlegh " f. e. smedley. the interpreter " whyte melville. the human boy " eden phillpots. vice versâ " f. anstey. adventure stories this is the largest group of books usually described as "for boys," although girls often read them too with hardly less interest. the first place in this class will probably always be held by defoe's robinson crusoe, and it is likely that most votes for second place would go to the swiss family robinson. after these we come to modern authors whose books have been written especially for boys, first among whom is the late mr. r. m. ballantyne, the author of, among numerous other books, the coral island. the gorilla hunters. the dog crusoe. the pirate city. ungava. the wild man of the west. the iron horse. fighting the flames. erling the bold. martin rattler. the fur traders. the red man's revenge. many of ballantyne's readers make a point of going through the whole series of his books. the other titles can be collected from the advertisement pages at the end of these volumes. with r. m. ballantyne is usually associated the name of the late w. h. g. kingston ("kingston and ballantyne the brave," stevenson called them in the verses at the beginning of _treasure island_, another book which comes high in this section). kingston's stories were also very numerous, but it will serve our purpose here to mention only the following six:-- peter the whaler. the three midshipmen. the three lieutenants. the three commanders. the three admirals. from powder-monkey to admiral. several authors have carried on ballantyne and kingston's work. chief among these are mr. g. a. henty and mr. g. manville fenn. here are six of mr. g. a. henty's stories:-- out on the pampas. the young colonists. the young franc-tireurs. in the heart of the rockies. maori and settler. redskin and cowboy. and here are eight of mr. g. manville fenn's:-- brownsmith's boy. bunyip land. bevon boys. dick o' the fens. the golden magnet. fix bay'nets. jungle and stream. menhardoc. mr. max pemberton, author of the iron pirate. the impregnable city. "q." (mr. quiller couch), author of dead man's rock. the silver spur. and mr. david kerr, author of the boy slave in bokhara. lost among the white africans. the wild horseman of the pampas. cossack and czar. old tartar deserts. prisoner among pirates. jules verne is a french writer, but his stories have always quickly been translated into english, many of them by mr. henry frith. their titles are a good guide to their subject, for jules verne goes to science for some wonderful invention, such as a submarine boat or a flying machine, and then surrounds it with extraordinary adventures. among his best books are-- twenty thousand leagues under the sea. round the world in eighty days. five weeks in a balloon. the english at the north pole. the clipper of the clouds. from the earth to the moon. the mysterious island. a journey to the centre of the earth. first of english inventors of fantastic stories of adventure is mr. rider haggard. his three most popular books are-- king solomon's mines. she. allan quatermain. the books already named, with the exception of _robinson crusoe_, were written especially for boys. other books which were not so intended, but have come to be read more by boys than any one else, include fenimore cooper's indian stories, of which these are four:-- the last of the mohicans. the pathfinder. the deerslayer. the bee hunters. other indian stories are those of gustave aimard, translated from the french, among which are these:-- the last of the incas. the trail hunter. the indian scout. the gold-seekers. the red river half-speed. the border rifles. the trappers of arkansas. these are, of course, north american tales. other north american tales are those of captain mayne reid, which include-- the boy hunters. the boy slaves. bruin, or the grand bear hunter. the bush boys. the castaways. the white chief. the desert home. the forest exiles. the giraffe hunters. the headless horseman. the rifle rangers. the scalp hunters. in this section belong the books of mr. george bird grinnell, author of jack in the rockies. jack, the young ranchman. jack among the indians. jack, the young canoeman. jack, the young trapper. also harold bindloss' the young traders. and to this section belong also stories of the sea, several of which have already been mentioned. high among these are captain marryat's poor jack, masterman ready, together with many of his tales intended originally for older readers, such as jacob faithful. mr. midshipman easy. peter simple. snarleyyow. mr. clark russell's stories:-- the wreck of the "grosvenor." the golden hope. an ocean free-lance. the frozen pirate. here also belong mr. kipling's captains courageous, and an old sea favorite-- two years before the mast by r. h. dana. other good sea books, not fiction:-- my first voyage by w. stones. the voyage of the "sunbeam" " lady brassey. the cruise of the "cachalot" " f. t. bullen. the cruise of the "falcon" " e. f. knight. historical stories for boys new historical stories are published in great numbers every year. the most popular author of this kind of book for boys is mr. g. a. henty, among whose very numerous historical tales, all good, are-- at aboukir and acre. at agincourt. bonnie prince charlie. by right of conquest. the dash for khartoum. in the reign of terror. with moore at corunna. the lion of st. mark. maori and settler. st. bartholomew's eve. under drake's flag. with clive in india. with frederick the great. with lee in virginia. by rev. a. j. church-- the chantry priest of barnet. the count of the saxon shore. stories from english history. with the king at oxford. other historical tales:-- stories from froissart by henry newbolt. the scottish chiefs " jane porter. the children of the new forest " captain marryat. a monk of fife " andrew lang. grettir the outlaw " baring gould. the story of burnt njal " sir george dasent. lorna doone " r. d. blackmore. in old egypt " h. p. mendes. an island story " h. e. marshall. scotland's story " " " by r. l. stevenson-- the black arrow. kidnapped. david balfour. by charles kingsley-- hereward the wake. westward ho! by conan doyle-- micah clarke the white company. the refugees. by stanley j. weyman-- the house of the wolf. under the red robe. the man in black. a gentleman of france. by mr. andrew balfour-- by stroke of sword. to arms! by mark twain the prince and the pauper. personal recollections of joan of arc. there are also historical stories more particularly intended by their authors for grown-up readers, but which boys and girls can, however, find quite interesting enough, even if much has to be skipped. first among these are sir walter scott's novels:-- ivanhoe. kenilworth. woodstock. quentin durward. rob roy. the abbott. the monastery. the talisman. other writers and books follow. by alexandre dumas-- the three musketeers. twenty years after. the vicomte de brageleonne. marguerite de valois. chicot the jester. the forty-five guardsmen. by charles dickens-- barnaby rudge. a tale of two cities. by lord lytton-- rienzi. harold. the last of the barons. the last days of pompeii. animal books first among the animal books are mr. kipling's two _jungle books_. two other beast stories by mr. kipling are "moti guj, mutineer," the tale of a truant elephant, which is in _life's handicap_ and "the maltese cat," a splendid tale of a polo pony, which is in _the day's work_. next to these comes mr. e. thompson-seton's _wild animals i have known._ the lives of animals by themselves, or by some one who knows everything about them, are always favorite books with small readers. among the best are these:-- black beauty (the story of a horse) by mrs. sewell. conrad the squirrel " the author of _wandering willie_. the story of the red deer " j. w. fortescue. every inch a king (the story of a dog) " anon. the lives of the hunted " e. thompson-seton. the trail of the sandhill stag " " " the adventures of a siberian cub " leon golschmann. the autobiography of a grizzly. " e. thompson-seton. the best tale of a bear is perhaps bret harte's "baby sylvester," which will be found in one of his volumes of short stories. good animal stories are scattered about other collections of short stories. in mr. anstey's _paleface and redskin_ are stories of dogs. mr. lang's red book of animal stories has both dogs and cats in it, and many other creatures too. here also should be placed mr. warde fowler's tales of the birds. other very popular animal books are mr. joel chandler harris's nights with uncle remus, uncle remus and brer rabbit (largely illustrations), mr. rabbit at home, and the same author has written also the story of aaron, aaron in the wild woods, which are stories not only of animals, but of people too; and here, perhaps, may be placed _Ã�sop's fables_. wood magic by richard jefferies is an attempt to do for english wild life somewhat the same service that mr. kipling performed for india. other open air and animal books are:-- by the rev. j. g. wood-- by back-yard zoo. pet land revisited. pet land a tour round my garden. also curiosities of natural history by frank buckland. white's selborne edited by frank buckland. wanderings in south america by charles waterton. wild traits in domestic animals " louis robinson. the voyage of the "beagle" " charles darwin. ants, bees, and wasps " sir john lubbock. (lord avebury). on the senses, instincts, and intelligence of animals " " " bob, son of battle " " " a series of very interesting scientific books, under the general title "the romance of science," is published by the society for promoting christian knowledge. among these volumes are-- the making of flowers by professor henslow. the birth and growth of worlds " professor green. spinning tops " professor perry. time and tide " sir robert ball. the same publishers also issue a series of "natural history rambles," including-- in search of minerals by d. t. ansted. lane and field " the rev j. g. wood. ponds and ditches " m. c. cooke. underground " j. e. taylor. the woodlands " m. c. cooke. the sea-shore " professor duncan. there is also a new series, called "the wonder books of science," of which the wonder book of volcanoes and earthquakes, and the wonder book of the atmosphere are the first. other good scientific yet very entertaining books:-- the fairyland of science by a. b. buckley. through magic glasses " " " life and her children " " " the romance of the insect world " miss l. badenoch. the ocean " " " glaucus " charles kingsley. madam how and lady why " " " the old red sandstone " hugh miller. the testimony of the rocks " " " homes without hands " rev. j. g. wood. sun, moon, and stars " a. giberne. the story of the heavens " sir robert ball. other worlds than ours " r. a. proctor. the orbs around us " " " the boys book of inventions " r. s. baker. extinct animals " e. ray lankester. electricity for young people " tudor jenks. history a good deal of more or less truthful history will be found in the section given to historical tales (see page ). here follows a small list of more serious historical books which also are good reading:-- tales of a grandfather by sir walter scott. stories from english history " rev. a. j. church. lives of the queens of england " agnes strickland. cameos from english history (several series)" c. m. younge. stories from roman history " mrs. beesley. deeds that won the empire " w. h. fitchett. fights for the flag " " " books of travel it is not important that travel books should be written especially for young readers. almost all records of travel contain some pages of interest, whatever the remainder may be like. the fact that a book describes wanderings in a far country is enough. but the books by commander robert e. peary and his wife deserve mention. snowland folk. the snow baby. children of the arctic. the treatment of library books on this page is given a copy of the book mark which a clergyman, mr. henry maxson, prepared for the use of the readers in the children's section of a library in wisconsin. book mark once upon a time a library book was overheard talking to a little boy who had just borrowed it. the words seemed worth recording, and here they are:-- "please don't handle me with dirty hands. i should feel ashamed to be seen when the next little boy borrowed me. "or leave me out in the rain. books can catch cold as well as children. "or make marks on me with your pen or pencil. it would spoil my looks. "or lean on me with your elbows when you are reading me. it hurts. "or open me and lay me face down on the table. you wouldn't like to be treated so. "or put in between my leaves a pencil or anything thicker than a single sheet of thin paper. it would strain my back. "whenever you have finished reading me, if you are afraid of losing your place, don't turn down the corner of one of my leaves, but have a neat little book mark to put in where you stopped, and then close me and lay me down on my side, so that i can have a good, comfortable rest. "remember that i want to visit a great many other little boys after you have done with me. besides, i may meet you again some day, and you would be sorry to see me looking old and torn and soiled. help me to keep fresh and clean, and i will help you to be happy." appendix _in making a book of this kind, it is impossible to think of all the things that ought to be mentioned. every reader is certain to know of some game or pastime that has been left out. in order that you may yourself bring this collection nearer completeness, the following appendix of blank pages has been added. some reference to everything that is written in the appendix ought to be made, if only in pencil, in both the body of the book and in the index._ index a acrobatic impossibilities, acrobatics, drawing-room, - acrostics, acting initials, games, - proverbs, verbs (dumb crambo), adders, adhesive tape, adventure, stories of, advertisements, almonds, how to blanch, alphabet, the cat, alphabet, the love, , alphabet, the ship, anemone, angora rabbits, animal, vegetable and mineral, animals, books about, china, composite (drawing game), invented (drawing game), velvet, annuals, treatment of, - ants, apple-snapping, apprentice, the, arm-chair (model), aspidistra, auctioning prizes, autumn sowing of seedlings, avadavats, b bag and stick, balancing, balancing tricks, ball games, wool, ballad game, the, balloon, barley sugar, baths for birds, battledoor and shuttlecock, bead furniture for dolls' houses, bead-work, bean bags, bed boat, the, games, - soldiers, thinking games for, beds for dolls' houses, matchbox, bedstead (model), bees, belgian hares, bicyclist, the, biennials, treatment of, bingo, birds, large and cage, - in the garden, - birds'-nesting, birthday, the old maid's, blackberrying, blackbird, the, black man, blacksmith, the, blenheim spaniels, blind feeding the blind, the, blind games, - blind man's buff, played with spoons, blind man's wand, blind worms, block city, bloodhound, the, blowing eggs, blowing out the candle, boat, a simple toy, boats, paper, on a stream, sailing, walnut shell, book mark, books-- and bookshelves for a doll's house, about animals, about boys, of adventure, about children, of fairy tales, historical, - , of poetry, about the sea, of travel, of legendary tales, borders for a garden, borzoi, the, bowling, boxes, cardboard, for collections of eggs, for dolls' houses, paper, boy and schoolboy stories, boys' toys, - bran-tubs, bream, bricks, bruce's heart, bubbles, soap, , buff, buff, blind man's, buff, shadow, bulbs, treatment of, - in cocoanut fibre, in glasses, in pots, bull dog, the, bullfinch, the, bull terrier, the, bunting, the yellow, buried names, butterfly hunting, butter-making, buying dogs, buz, c cage birds, - cages for birds, campanulas, canaries, seed, candle-blowing, candle lighters, the, candy-making, - candy, molasses, nut, peppermint, caramels, cream, cardboard and paper furniture:-- drawings of, - arm-chair, bedstead, chair, cot, cut-outs, dining-room table, dressing-table, high chair, kitchen chair, range, table, pots and pans, rocking-chair screen, sideboard, sofa, towel-rack, wardrobe, washstand, cardboard and paper toys, - cardboard boxes, dolls' houses, - uses for, card games, - cardinal, the, cards for patience, for snap, cards, hat and, catalogues, gardening, cat alphabet, the, catching balls, caterpillar game, caterpillars, cat-fish, the american, cats, chaffinch, the, chair (model), chairs, chestnut, cork, chalks, characteristics, prophecies and, charades, cherry contests, chevy, chickens, feeding the, _child's garden of verses, a_, children, books about, china animals, nest-eggs, chinese gambling, chitterbob, christmas, - trees, clap in, clap out, clothes-basket, a doll's house, clothes-horse, summer house, clumber spaniel, the, clumps, coach, family, cobbler, the, cocked hat, paper, cocker spaniel, the, cocoanut cream, drops, fibre for bulbs, coffee-pot, collars for dogs, collecting jones's, collections of china animals, of flags, of flowers, of stamps, collie, the, color in a garden, coloring maps, pictures, compasses, home-made, competitions, guessing, railway, composite animals (drawing game), scrap books, stories, concerted sneeze, the, concerts, the topsy-turvy, consequences, an extended form of, contests, cherry, convalescents, games for, copying woodcuts, cork and matchbox furniture, - ships, cot (model), counting dogs, a million, counting imaginary flocks of sheep, counting-out rhymes, country books, country, employment in the, - cows, cradle, a walnut, cream caramels, cocoanut, stuffing for dates, cress, mustard and, , crocuses, crosses, noughts and, cross questions, cross-tag, cumulative games, - curtains for cardboard dolls' houses, dolls' house, cushion, cutting flowers, - cutting out pictures, cutting leaves, d daffodils, , dairy, the, daisy chains, dancing dwarf, the, dancing egg, the, dancing man, a, dancing pea, the, darts, paper, dates, stuffed, day's shopping, the, decorations, evergreen, paper, deerhound, the scotch, deer stalking, demons, wool, diaries, country, gardening, dining-room table (model), dinner parties, dolls', distemper, treatment of, ditto game, the, dividing perennials, dog-stick, dogs, counting, exercising, food for, how to buy, how to teach tricks, the various kinds of, - treatment of, - washing, dogs' collars, kennel (cardboard), dolls for dolls' houses, dressing, paper, - rows of paper, walking, dolls' dinner parties, flats, garden seats and tables, houses, cardboard, - chimney, partition, small, house beds, bookshelves, cupboards, curtains, fireplaces, floors, gardens, , pictures, screens, wall papers, donkey's tail, the, dots, five, , double acrostics, doves, dragons, hand, drawing games, - drawing-room acrobatics, - drawings, eyes-shut, drawing tricks, dresses for paper dolls, dressing dolls, dressing the lady, dressing-table (model), table, matchbox, up for charades, duck on a rock, ducks' eggs, dumb crambo, performances, dutch rabbits, dutch street, a, dwarf, the dancing, e easter eggs, eggs, blowing, ducks', easter, hens', electricity, elements, the, employments, guessing, esquimau village, a, evergreen decorations, everton toffee, exercising dogs, exploration, eyes, eyes-shut drawings, f fairy-tale books, family coach, specimen story, family, the imaginary, fantail pigeons, farmyards, feather, the, feeding chickens, fern halls, ferns, skeleton, fights, walnut shell, filipino village, a, fire-buckets, fireplaces for dolls' houses, fish, five dots, - fives, flags, collection of, floors in dolls' houses, flower pots, flower shows, , flower symbols, flowers, collecting, cutting, for a doll's house, packing, painting, for town gardens, for window boxes, fly away, follow my leader, food for birds, for chickens and ducks, for dogs, for puppies, for rabbits, for wild birds, , , on a railway journey, football, parlor, foot-stools, cork, forfeits, fowls, trussed, fox-terrier, the, french and english, (paper), french tag, french blind man's buff, fruit cream, fuchsias, furnishing dolls' houses, furnishing game, a, g games with a ball, by rote, drawing, - in bed, - with cards, - for convalescents, for a journey, - for a party, - for a picnic, - quotation, rainy-day, - table, - thinking, guessing, and acting, - for a walk, - with a watch, writing, - yes and no, - gambling, chinese, gaps, garden, dolls' house, , kitchen, shop, town, gardening catalogues, diaries, tools, general post, geraniums, ghosts of my friends, glasses, bulbs in, glass-maker, the, going to jerusalem, goldfinch, the, gold fish, good fat hen, a, good luck lily, gordon setter, gossip, grab, grand mogul, the, grand mufti, the, grass snakes, great dane, the, greyhound, the, guessing competitions, employments, games, - numbers, quantities, results, scents, the color of horses' tails, guinea pigs, gypsy camp, h hand dragons, hanging, hare and hounds, hat and cards, hats, cocked, hawks, heads, bodies and tails, he can do little who can't do this, hen and chickens, hen, a good fat, hens' eggs, where to look for, here i bake, hide and seek, hieroglyphics, or picture-writing, , , high chair (model), high skip, himalayan rabbits, hish! hash! hosh! historical stories, - history books, hives, bee, hold fast! let go! home newspaper, the, honey-pots, hoop games for two, posting, hoops, hop-scotch, hop, step, and jump, hospitals, scrap books for, hot and cold, hot hand, hotel game, an, hounds, houses, cardboard, - dolls', house that glue built, the, how, when, and where, hunting for eggs, hunt the ring, hunt the slipper, hunt the squirrel, hunt the thimble, hutches, rabbit, hyacinths, , i illuminating, illustrated papers, painting, illustrating, i love my love, , imaginary family, the, improbable stories, india-rubber plant, indoor gardening, - occupations and things to make, painting, plants, initials, , acting, ink sea-serpents, invented animals (drawing game), irises, irish setter, terrier, i spy, it, ivy, chains, j jack horner pies, jack-stones, japanese fern balls, java sparrows, john ball, jinglers, jolly miller, the, jones's, collecting, journeys, games to play on, - judge and jury, jumping rope, k killing butterflies, king charles spaniel, kingfishers, kitchen gardens, table (model), chair " range " pots and pans, kitchen utensils, kite messengers, kites, knots, - l lady queen anne, lamp for small dolls' house, land of counterpane, the, _land of story-books, the_, laughter, leaves, skeleton, legendary tales, letter games, letters and telegrams, and words, with a pencil, lettuce, lights, rhyming, lists, little dog, the, looby, looby, log houses, london bridge is falling down, love alphabet, the, , love-birds, low-tide, lubbock, sir john, on bees, m madonna lilies, magic-lantern slides, magic music, making friends, making plans, making obeisance, making sentences, man, a dancing, mandarins, the, maps, coloring, on a journey, marbles, mastiff, the, mats, paper menageries, mesmerism, messengers, kite, mice, pet, milking cows, million, counting a, miniature trees, minnows, missing information, mogul, the grand, molasses candy, moles, mongrels, mottoes for christmas, moulting, mounting pressed flowers, muffin man, the, mufti, the grand, mulberry bush, the, music, dolls', music, magic, mustard and cress, , my lady's clothes, my right-hand neighbor, my thought, n narcissus, , natural history books, neighbor, my right-hand, neighbors, newfoundland dogs, newspaper, the, newspaper, the home, ninepins, norfolk spaniel, noughts and crosses, numbers, guessing, nut candy, , nuts in may, nutting, o observation, for railway journeys, occupations, indoor, - old bachelor, old maid, old maid's birthday, the, old soldier, old stone, oranges and lemons, orchestra, outdoor games for boys, - outdoor games for girls, - outlines, , p p's and q's, packing flowers, paddling, painting, cardboard dolls' houses, cardboard furniture, dolls' house food, eggs for easter, flags, flowers, magic-lantern slides, maps, paper boats, boxes, and cardboard toys, - darts, decorations, dolls, - french and english, furniture, - mats, papers for dolls' houses, parlor football, parrots, party, games for a, - patience or thirteens, pen and ink work, peppermint candy, perch, perennials, treatment of, pets, - philopenas, photography, picking flowers, picnic games, - pictures and titles, pictures, coloring, for dolls' houses, pricking, tracing, pictures to order, picture-writing, or hieroglyphics, , , pig, pigeons, ping-pong, plain toffee, plans, making, planting bulbs, perennials, seedlings, plants, window, indoor, playhouses of other peoples, - poetry books, pomeranian, the, ponds, poodles, pop-corn, pop-guns, postage-stamp collections, snakes, post office, the, potato races, pots and pans (models), predicaments, pressing flowers, pricking pictures, prisoner's base, prize, auctioning, products, towns and, prophecies and characteristics, proverbs, acting, shouting, pueblo settlement, a, pugs, puppies, how to feed, puss in the corner, puzzles, q quantities, guessing, queen anne, lady, quoits, quotation games, r rabbits, wild, tame, races, races, potato, soap-bubble, spanish, or wheelbarrow, tissue-paper, radishes, railway competitions, railway whist, rainy-day games, - reading, - red rover, remarks on acting, retriever, the, rhymed replies, rhymes, counting out, rhyming games, rhyming lights, riddles, ring, hunt the, ring taw, ring-the-nail, ring-toss, roadside whist, robin's alive, robin, the, rocking-chair (model), rocks, rows of paper dolls, runt pigeons, russian scandal, ruth and jacob, s sailing boats, , saint bernard, the, sand castles, games, saving seed, scandal, russian, scarborough lily, scents, guessing, schoolboy stories, science, books about, scrap-books, , covered screens, scraps and transfers, screen (model), screens covered with scraps, for dolls' houses, sea-serpents, ink, seaside friends, good, seaside employments, - seaweed, seedlings, perennials, general remarks on, seed, sowing, sentences, making, sergeant, the, setters, setting-boards for butterflies, shades, shadow buff, shadows on the wall, shearing sheep, sheep, counting imaginary flocks of, dog, the, shearing, washing, shell work, ship alphabet, the, ships, cork, shop, game of, in the garden, shopping, the day's, shop windows, shouting proverbs, shuffle board, sideboard (model), silkworms, simon says thumbs up, simple acrostics, skeleton ferns, leaves, skipjacks, skye terrier, the, sleep, ways of getting to, slugs, small dolls' houses, snakes, postage stamp, snap, snap cards, sneeze, the concerted, snowdrops, soap-bubbles, , sofa (model), sofas, cork, soldiers, , solitary watchfulness, sowing seeds, spaniels, spanish cup and ball, sparrows, spatter-work, spelling game, spin the platter, spoons, blind man's buff played with, squills, squirrels, wild, tame, stagarino, stamps, collecting, star of bethlehem, starlings, station observation, statues, steps, stevenson, r. l., still pond! no more moving, stir the mash, stool of repentance, stories, composite, improbable, about schoolboys, telling, , story books, story for family coach, for old maid's birthday, story game, strawberries, streams, strength tests, stuffed dates, suckers, sugar, barley, how to make, sugar, how to color, suggestions, summer-houses, sussex spaniel, the, swallows, swarming of bees, sweet-making, - t tableaux vivants, table games, - tables, cork, tag, teapot, telegrams, telling stories, during walks, terriers, terza, thimble, thinking games, - for bed, thirteens, or patience, thought, my, thought-reading tricks, throwing light, tides, tiger-lilies, tissue-paper dresses for dolls, races, titles, pictures and, tit-tat-toe, toffee, almond, everton, plain, tom tiddler's ground, tools for gardening, topsy-turvy concert, the, touch last, touchwood, towel-rack, cork, (model), town gardens, towns and products, toy boats, dogs, toys for boys, - tracing, tracing pictures, train, games to play in the, - transfers, transplanting flowers, travel, books of, traveller, the, trees, miniature, christmas, tricks, how to teach birds, balancing, how to teach dogs, drawing, thought-reading, trout, trussed fowls, tug of war, tulips, turtles, twenty questions, twos and threes, or terza, tying knots, u unison games, up jenkins, utensils, kitchen, kitchen (models), for sweet-making, v velvet animals, verse and poetry books, w walking dolls, games to play when out, - walking spanish, wall-pockets, walnut fights, shell boats, wand, blind man's, wardrobe, matchbox, (model), washing dogs, sheep, washstand, (model), watch, games to be played with a, water-cutters, watering flowers, perennials, seedlings, window boxes, window plants, wax-bills, weeds, welsh terrier, the, wet clothes, wheat, when my ship comes in, whist, railway, whist, roadside, whistle, the, whistles, wiggles, wild birds, feeding the, rabbits, window boxes, , plants, windows, shop, witches, wool balls, demons, word-making, writing games, - y yellow bunting, yes and no games, - a list of standard books for children published by frederick a. stokes company _books for older children_ bindloss, harold the young traders. illustrated, mo, cloth $ . a capital story of two boys in west africa. crockett, s. r. the surprising adventures of sir toady lion. illustrated, mo, cloth. . sir toady crusoe. illustrated. large mo, cloth . the adventures of two boys and a girl on the scottish coast. sweetheart travellers. illustrated, mo, cloth . fine art juveniles children's classics in artistic form. beautifully illustrated. each vo, cloth . . old fashioned tales. e. v. lucas. . the "original poems" and others. ann and jane taylor. . tales from maria edgeworth. . tales of the canterbury pilgrims. f. j. h. darton. . fairy tales from grimm. . fairy tales from hans andersen. . stories from the faerie queen. mary macleod. . the book of king arthur, mary macleod. . the fairchild family. mrs. sherwood. . national rhymes of the nursery. . forgotten stories of long ago. e. y. lucas. . ballads in prose. mary macleod. . another book of verses for children. e. v. lucas. . the wonder book of old romance. f. j. h. darton. grinell, george bird the "jack" books. illustrated. each mo, cloth . good books for boys, full of hunting, adventure and natural history. jack the young ranchman. jack among the indians. jack in the rockies. jack the young canoeman. jack the young trapper. grinnell morton neighbors of field, wood, and stream. illustrated, mo, cloth . an account of wild creatures not far from civilization. houston, edwin j. the wonder books of science. illustrated. each mo, cloth . the wonders of nature described and simply explained by a scientist. the wonder book of volcanoes and earthquakes. the wonder book of the atmosphere. jenks, tudor electricity for young people. illustrated, mo, cloth _net_, . the story of the progress of electricity from the earliest times. lounsberry, alice the wild flower book for young people. illustrated, mo, cloth _net_, . a story of the lives of wild flowers. marshall, h. e. an island story. illustrated in color. large vo, cloth _net_, . a child's history of england. scotland's story. illustrated in color. large vo, cloth _net_, . stirring events in scottish history. moore, n. hudson deeds of daring done by girls. illustrated in color, mo, cloth . examples of heroism of girls under twenty. nesbit, e. the treasure seekers. illustrated, mo, cloth . by the author of the wouldbegoods. the new treasure seekers. illustrated, mo, cloth . further adventures of the fascinating bastable children. perkins, lucy f. the dandelion classics for children. illustrated in color. each to, cloth . a uniform edition of children's classics, splendidly illustrated. robin hood. midsummer night's dream for young-people. the twenty best fairy tales. sage, agnes c. a little colonial dame. illustrated, to, cloth . same, boards . the story of a girl in old new york. a little daughter of the revolution. illustrated, to, cloth . same, boards . child-life during the exciting period of the war for independence. steedman, c. m. a child's life of jesus. illustrated in color, vo, cloth, . thumb-o-graph series thumb-o-graphs. mo, cloth, _net_, . ; leather, boxed, _net_, . ; gilt, leather, boxed _net_, . ghosts of my friends. mo, cloth, _net_, . ; leather, boxed _net_, . the book of butterflies. mo, cloth, boxed _net_, . noughts and crosses. mo, cloth _net_, . hand-o-graphs. to, cloth _net_, . _books for children from ten to fifteen years of age_ ault, lena and norman the podgy book of tales. illustrated in color, mo, cloth . full of jolly stories about happenings in the nursery and garden. bedford, francis d. a night of wonders. illustrated in color. oblong, mo, cloth . the story of a hunt for father christmas. carroll, lewis alice in wonderland. illustrated in color, vo, cloth, . contains the original tenniel drawings, beside twelve new ones in color by maria l. kirk. through the looking glass. illustrated in color, vo, cloth . also has illustrations by miss kirk as well as the tenniel drawings. children's library, the illustrated. each mo, cloth . stories of all kinds interesting to children. the would-be witch. miriam byrne. two are company. e. m. field. the old oak chest. mary jane papers. a. g. plympton. courage. ruth ogden. little homespun. ruth ogden. tommy's tiny tales. lady leigh. the house of the red fox. miriam byrne. cooke, grace macgowan son riley rabbit and little girl. illustrated, to, cloth . the adventures of a little girl and a rabbit, with excellent photographs. dumas, alexandre fairy tales. illustrated, to, cloth . dunham, edith jogging round the world. to, cloth . with photographs of curious methods of transportation. glen, m. a. twelve magic changelings. cut-outs in color, to, boards, . ; paper . magic changelings. cut-outs in color, to, boards . mirthful menagerie. cut-outs in color, to, boards . agile acrobats. cut-outs in color. to, boards . harris, joel chandler uncle remus and bre'r rabbit. illustrations in color. oblong, to, boards . some of bre'r rabbit's most amusing adventures told in stories, verses and pictures. jewett, j. h. bunny stories. illustrated, to, boards . same, cloth . more bunny stories. illustrated, to, boards . same, cloth . mendes, h. p. in old egypt. illustrated, to, cloth . moore, n. hudson children of other days. illustrated, to, cloth . an art book for children, giving reproductions of famous paintings of children. ogden, ruth a little queen of hearts. illustrated, to, boards . same, cloth . the account of the visit of a little american girl to england. a loyal little red coat. illustrated, to, boards . same, cloth . a story of a child in new york one hundred years ago. loyal hearts and true. illustrated, mo, cloth . how "the dry dock club" showed its patriotic spirit during the war with spain. outcault, r. f. buster brown's autobiography. illustrated in color, to, cloth . with many new adventures. buster's and mary jane's painting book. oblong, to, boards . pictures to be colored, some with colored models. tige: his story. illustrated, to, cloth . tige's adventures, with some of buster's. buster brown abroad. illustrated, to, cloth . what buster did in foreign lands. peary, josephine d. the snow baby. illustrated, to, cloth _net_, . the birth and infancy of marie ahnighito peary, illustrated by photographs taken by her parents in the far north. peary, marie ahnighito and josephine d. children of the arctic. illustrated, to, cloth _net_, . the snow baby's second trip to the arctic. peary, robert e. snowland folk. illustrated, to, cloth _net_, . true stories about the fascinating land of eternal snow. randolph, h. s. f. the new mother goose. with cut-out illustrations in color, to, boards . an illustrated story remains after removal of the cut-outs. the fire fighters. with cut-out illustrations in color, to, boards . story with models of fire engine, hook and ladder, etc., in drawings and cut-outs. selous, edmund tommy smith's animals. illustrated, mo, cloth . tommy smith's other animals. illustrated, mo, cloth . conversations of a little boy with the common country animals. williams, clara andrew the house that glue built. cut-out pictures in color. oblong, to, boards . pictures of the rooms of a house with separate sheets giving the furniture, to be pasted into place. the fun that glue made. cut-out pictures in color. oblong, to, boards . scenes in bright colors of children at play, to be pasted together. the stories that glue told. cut-out pictures in color. oblong, to, boards . pictures of well-known stories to be cut out and pasted together. _books for very young children_ betts, ethel franklin favorite nursery rhymes. illustrated in color, to, cloth . the most popular nursery rhymes beautifully illustrated. burgess, gelett goops and how to be them. illustrated, to, cloth . the primary rules of good manners in clever rhymes. more goops and how not to be them. illustrated, to, cloth . with many more of mr. burgess's whimsical pictures. goop tales, alphabetically told. illustrated, to, cloth . two alphabets--one of boys and one of girls. the lively city o' ligg. illustrated in color, to, boards . modern fables--a hans andersen up to date. the burgess nonsense book. illustrated. small to, cloth . a collection of mr. burgess's nonsense verses and stories. deming, e. w. red folk and wild folk. illustrated in color, to, cloth _net_, . little indian people in the forest, with their animal playfellows. children of the wild. illustrated in color, to, cloth _net_, . little brothers of the west. illustrated in color, to, cloth _net_, . each of these books contains just half the pictures and text of "red folk and wild folk." indian child life. illustrated in color. oblong, to, boards . stories about indian children. little red people. illustrated in color. oblong, to, boards . little indian folk. illustrated in color. oblong, to, boards . each containing just half the illustrations and text in the preceding volume. dumpy books for children illustrated in color. each mo, boards . simple stories for very young children. the story of the teasing monkey. helen bannerman. billy mouse. arthur layard. pat and the spider. helen bannerman. the story of little kettle head. helen bannerman. the story of little black quibba. helen bannerman. the story of little black sambo. helen bannerman. the bad mrs. ginger. honor c. appleton. the alphabet book. henry mayer. a cat book. e. v. lucas and h. c. smith. haines, alice calhoun little folk of brittany. illustrated in color, to, cloth . delightful stories and verses about this remarkable land. indian boys and girls. illustrated in color, to, cloth . indian children in characteristic occupations. when grandma was little. illustrated in color, to, cloth . what grandma says. illustrated in color, to, cloth . stories and verses in which things happen as grandma says they used to. boys. illustrated in color. large to, boards . girls. illustrated in color. large to, boards . distinctive and beautiful stories and verses of child life. little japs at play. illustrated in color. large to, boards . transcriber's notes . passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_. . images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest paragraph break. . some of the full-page illustrations listed in the illustrations are missing. . the use of periods is not consistent in the original text. obvious errors have been silently corrected. . the following misprints have been corrected: comma added at end of verse line "the powder" (page ) period removed in sentence "three's, thus. one" (page ) "hocky" corrected to "hockey" (page ) "payments" corrected to "pavements" (page ) "hankerchief" corrected to "handkerchief" (img ) "train" corrected to "twain" (img ) "eoy" corrected to "roy" (img ) "thomson-seton" corrected to "thompson-seton" (img ) "fin" corrected to "finn" (img ) missing page no. added for "feeding chickens" entry (page ) . other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been retained. transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). home occupations for boys and girls by bertha johnston editor of the "kindergarten magazine" assisted by fanny chapin former kindergarten director of the chicago latin school [illustration] philadelphia george w. jacobs & co. publishers copyright, by george w. jacobs & co. published october, all rights reserved printed in u. s. a. teach him. he is naturally clever. from his earliest years, when he was a little fellow only so big, he would build mud houses, carve out boats, and make little wagons of leather, and frogs out of pomegranate rinds, you can't think how cleverly. _aristophanes_, b. c. preface the plan of this book has special reference to the mother when comes the woful plaint, "i don't know what to do! mama, what can i do now?" is she busy in the kitchen? she has right there material for the little one's happy employment. is she mending the stockings? she can give him needle and thread and, with the aid of this book, a word of suggestion. in spare moments both mother and children can together prepare papers, cards, etc., for future occasions. it will be found upon examination that although some of the articles described herein require material peculiar to certain localities, very many more may be made of things to be found in every home, whether the city flat or the remote country homestead. usually a choice is possible. one may use the cardboard, paper, etc., saved from the scrap-basket or may send to supply houses for material partially prepared. it is an undoubted advantage for the child to be trained to see the possibilities in the raw material lying at hand. it stimulates his inventive imagination and makes for efficiency and the power to cope with emergencies. the child accustomed to looking upon odds and ends of wire, paper, weeds, seeds, and grasses as hiding delightful secrets which he may learn to unravel and utilize, may be readily trained to regard all nature as a vast storehouse open to his investigation, and a continual source of inspiration. the child, habituated to mastering the raw material of his immediate environment, will not be discomfited if thrown upon an unknown shore, whether arctic or tropical. he will recognize everywhere about him possibilities for shelter, food, clothing, and transportation and will know how to use them. but the child must be trained to perceive the beautiful and the ideal as well as the useful. into each article here described, even the simplest, enter the elements of beauty, proportion, harmony of line and color, and good, true workmanship, leading surely, even if unconsciously, to an appreciation of the best wherever found. in making an article as a gift for child or adult, thought for others is cultivated and the frequently needed help of older brother or sister encourages the spirit of goodwill and kindliness. the festival occasions are especially valuable in developing the sense of interdependence and large-mindedness. among a people proverbially wasteful it is certainly the part of wisdom to train the child to economy for the sake of future service. the contents of the city garbage barrel are found by business men to be worth sorting and classifying and everything proves to be of some use. why should not the child be taught, before throwing away the discarded picture book, to ask if there is not a use for it still? a nation so trained will preserve its forests and save its niagaras. it will see things material and things spiritual in their true relations. we would suggest that a little cupboard be placed within easy reach of the child. here he may keep his own scissors, paste, pencil and papers, ready for use when the propitious moment of inspiration seizes him. too much exactness must not be required of the very young child, but as fast as he is able to do good work insist upon the best of which _he_ is capable. train him always to try to surpass himself. above all, let him be happy in the doing. the ideas offered in this volume have been garnered from various sources. practical experience in the home has suggested many, and actual daily work in the kindergarten has given rise to others. a few, such as the thimble biscuit party and croquet with peas, are among the recollections of happy childhood. it is a pleasure to acknowledge the obligation to miss fanny chapin, of chicago, a kindergartner of long experience, for the comradeship of thought which made the book possible. miss chapin also contributed the directions for making feather flowers, many of the holiday suggestions, and other items scattered through the book. the conversion of corks into a set of furniture was learned from a german playmate twenty-five years ago. imagine the interest with which we discovered a set, almost identical, at the german exhibit of the recent international kindergarten union. the candlesticks of tin or cardboard, brightened with colored tissue-paper, varied to suit particular occasions, is a regular feature of the festival dinners at the gertrude house, chicago. to one and all to whom, consciously or unconsciously, we may be indebted for any suggestions, we express our thanks. a perusal of this little volume will show that it is far from exhaustive of the topics treated. it is largely a book of suggestion. if it stimulates the child to new investigations and experiments along similar lines; if it reinforces the spirit of brotherly kindness in the home; or if it helps to solve any of the problems of the mother, the hopes of the authors will be accomplished. bertha johnston. contents chapter page i. the secrets of the market basket ii. mother nature's horn of plenty iii. saved from the scrap basket iv. the sewing-basket v. the paint box vi. dolls and doll-houses vii. plays and games viii. festival occasions ix. the key basket x. the child's library xi. kindergarten materials--the gifts xii. " " --the occupations chapter i the secrets of the market basket the busy but thoughtful mother will find in the contents of the market basket many possibilities for happily employing the creative instinct of her child. we give a few suggestions which demand activity of both mind and body. strawberry-boxes =seed-markers= (_no tools needed but the fingers_) remove the rim of wood which binds the box into shape, that the little tacks may not injure the child. then let him tear the sides and bottom into little slats which can be used as seed-markers. older children can write upon them the names of seeds, and when planted put one of these slats into the ground to indicate where the seeds may be expected to come up. the little child enjoys the sense of power that he feels simply in being able to tear these boxes apart, but let there be a thought back of the action if it seem to degenerate into pure destructiveness. =toy-fences= (_employing fingers only_) split the boxes with the fingers into pieces wide or narrow, as desired, and the slats thus made can be turned into fences for the play farm in the sand-box, or for borders for small flower beds. ( ) stick them into the sand or earth side by side, to suggest a plain board fence; or ( ) put very narrow ones at short intervals apart to suggest a picket fence. =toy-fences= (_scissors_, _tacks_) if old enough to use scissors, let the child cut the boxes apart with long scissors and use for fences as before. ( ) side by side for board fence. ( ) cut into very narrow strips for picket fence. use the rim of the basket for the rail to unite the pickets, fastening them with the tiny tacks which are already in it. pickets might be one inch apart. cutting the tops of the pickets into points will complete the resemblance to a real fence. put the rails about one-half inch from top. =boxes for tacks, seeds, etc.= (_scissors_, _paste_, _paste-sticks_, _ribbon, - / inches long, - / inches wide_, _wall-paper_, _pan with water_) take two pieces of a box, each measuring × inches. soak in water till soft. place one directly across the middle of the other, and bend the four projecting ends up perpendicularly into box form. ( ) hold the sides in place by winding the ribbon around the four sides, till they meet, and paste the one overlapping end over the other. ( ) cut a piece of wall-paper (obtainable often from a wall-hanger's shop) into a strip - / × - / inches and wind around, pasting one end over the other. if the child is inexperienced the paper may be cut of exactly the height of box. if skillful in so doing, let him cut the strip / inch wider and turn down over the top to give a little finish. this gives practice in neatness and skill. let the child observe how a swedish matchbox is made--the wood held together by strips of thin but tough paper--and then carry his thought to the far-distant land which sends us the magic wands that give us light with safety. and all carried in a tiny box made of wood and paper. decalcomanias might be used for decoration of the plain wooden box. let the child experiment in making boxes of different shapes and sizes for his collections of seeds, stones, etc. this cultivates his ingenuity and practical imagination. =picture frames= (_scissors_, _thumb-tacks_, _gold paint_, _water-colors_, _glue_) cut three slats, each × inches, to make triangular frame. unite with thumb-tacks, one at each of the three corners. to place them exactly the right way may take a little experimenting, which helps develop the child's sense of proportion and arrangement. when joined, cut off the projecting parts at the top to give pointed effect. good for pictures of indians, as wigwam is suggested. decorate by gilding or painting. can be painted with ivory paints or water-colors. =chicken-coops= (_scissors_, _glue_) remove the rim, bottom (in one piece) and two adjoining sides of a berry box. this leaves two sides remaining which are already bent into correct form for coop. cut the bottom of the box in half from corner to corner. this gives the triangular back of the coop which must be glued on. the slats must now be made and put into place. cut three slats each / inches wide. ( ) in each of the two front edges of the coop cut three horizontal slits / inches deep; slip the slats into these and cut off the projecting ends. the slats at the top will necessarily be shorter than those at the bottom. ( ) or an older child can cut in each of the two edges notches / inches deep and / inches high and glue the slats into these, thus: [illustration: chicken-coop.] =paste-sticks= (_boxes_, _scissors_) cut sides of boxes into slender pieces which can be put aside and used for paste-sticks when pasting is the order of the day. they will prove to be better than brushes. =wagon= (_thumb-tacks_, _button-molds_, _skewers_, _glue_, _small, slender nails_) take two boxes. remove rims. bend down one side of each of the boxes so that it is horizontal. lap one of these exactly over the other and join with thumb-tacks. this makes the body of coal wagon. for wheels use ( ) large wooden button-molds or ( ) the cardboard circles round which ribbons come. make axles of skewers. glue axle to bottom of wagon, slip on the wheels and insert small, slender nail to keep wheel from coming off. if skewers are not at hand whittle a slender piece from a stick of kindling wood, whittling the ends until slender enough for the wheels to slip on. paint spokes on the wheels and paint the wagon, using any paint at hand. =candy-boxes= } (_fancy paper_, _crinkled-paper or_ =button-boxes= } _silk_, _glue_, _paint_) take a berry-box and dye with diamond dyes. line it with crinkled paper or dainty flowered wallpaper or silk. to do this, fold the paper or silk one inch over on itself from the top, for hem. gather or pleat the silk near the top with silk of same color and glue to the inner side of the basket near the top, leaving a little projecting edge for ruffle. leave the lower ends free. the silk should be two inches wider than the depth of the basket and one and one-third times as long as the four sides of the basket. now take a square of cardboard the size of the bottom of the basket and cover it smoothly with a square of silk, folding the silk neatly over the sides and catching it across so as to be smooth on the right side. put this silk square down in the bottom of the basket and it will hold the sides of the lining firm. a basket may be lined with paper in the same way, using glue to hold it in place. as paper can not very well be gathered, the top may be glued down smoothly or the paper may be pleated. =hanging-basket= (_lead from tea-box_, _ribbon or wire_, _earth_, _seeds_) line a berry box with the lead, fill with good earth and plant vines or flower-seeds. suspend by ribbon or wire. =dolls' furniture= (_spools_, _scissors_, _glue_) . table.--make a table by cutting a slat from a basket into an oblong × inches and glue to spool for dining-table. . bed.--soak a few moments and when flexible cut an oblong × inches and bend one end up - / inches to form head of bed. bend the other end up / inch to form the foot. glue two spools to the bottom of this for legs, one at each end. . chair.--make chairs for the same set by cutting a piece of the box to measure × inches. bend across the middle so that a right angle is formed and glue one side to a spool. the other half forms the back of the chair. such furniture may be colored with dyes or ivory paints. peas =shelling peas= (_tin pans_) let the child help mother to shell the peas for dinner. children enjoy work of this kind when coöperating with the mother or father. they like to do what mother is doing when she is doing it too. this will be an excellent time to tell hans andersen's story of the "five peas that dwelt in a pod". as a reward let the child plant a few peas in a box or out-of-doors. =pea-pod boat= (_pan of water_, _peapods_) give a small child a dish-pan filled with water and a peapod for a boat, with peas for passengers and he will entertain himself for a long time. let the frequency with which he is allowed this privilege depend upon his care in keeping himself and his surroundings dry, thus leading to neatness and self-control. =pea furniture= (see chapter on kindergarten occupations) =numeral frame or abacus= (_hair-wire_, _cardboard stationery box_) get ten slender pieces of wire about six inches long. put one pea on the first, two on the second, three on the third, etc., until you reach the last, on which place ten. take an empty stationery box, and cut away the bottom leaving the four sides intact as a frame. into this frame insert the ten wires, the one with one pea at the top, then no. , , etc. the child can then practice counting the different combinations up to ten. instead of peas such a series of units could be made by stringing cranberries or rose-haws on a waxed thread. potatoes and squash =potato horse= (_three potatoes_, _slender sticks or tooth-picks_, _raveled string or coarse black thread_) take large potato for body of horse, a smaller one for the neck, and another for the head. join them with sticks broken to convenient length. four other sticks make the legs, two little ones the ears and the string or thread the flowing tail. the tail can be attached to a tack or pin and inserted. =squash or sweet potato animals= (_crooked-neck squash or sweet potato for each animal_, _slender sticks_) insert sticks for legs into crooked-neck squashes and convert into animals of various kinds, the kind depending upon the size of the neck and general shape. sweet potatoes by their queer shapes will often suggest animals: pigs, dogs, etc., or ducks, swans, ostriches, and birds. use tacks or shoe buttons for eyes. dolls can be made also. corn husks--green =mat= (_husks_, _needle_, _thread_) take four smooth husks and press between blotting paper for hours. then tear into / inch strips. lay eight of these on the table. take eight more and weave these under and over the first eight, making mat for doll-house. put again between blotters. the next day, slide the strips together till they lie smooth and even, and close together. fasten by sewing the outside strips lightly to the interlacing ones. cut the extending parts off about one inch from outside strips. =feathers= (_husks_, _scissors_) take a dozen leaves of the husks; cut slits slant-wise down the edges about / inch apart. let dry hours. then use as feathers for indian head dress, using design on copper cent as model. corn-cobs--dry =corn-crib= (_cobs_, _hammer_, _nails_, _cover of starch-box_) to a small piece of thin wood like the cover of a starch-box nail four short cobs of equal length for legs (half an inch or an inch long). around the four sides, on top, nail a row of slender cobs for the walls of the corn crib. make roof of cobs or lay a piece of cardboard across. nail from below, through the board. it will require a little thought to determine just where the nail must go in order to run through the board and into the cob above, but tell the child that he is a little carpenter and must make careful measurements. ask if he can think why the crib is raised thus from the ground. (to preserve the corn from the rats and mice.) =toy-raft= (_cobs_, _rim of berry-box_, _tacks_) lay six or more cobs of equal length side by side upon the table. take a piece of binding-rim of a berry-box as long as the row of cobs is wide. lay it across the row near one end and nail it fast to each cob. nail a similar piece across the other end. this will make a serviceable toy-raft. stick in a skewer for a mast and make a sail-boat. paste on the mast a triangular piece of paper or muslin for a sail. =zig-zag fence= (_cobs only_) lay down half a dozen cobs in zigzag fashion, with their ends not quite as far apart as the length of the cobs. then across every two ends lay another cob, and so build up the fence. =post-fence= (_cobs_, _tacks_, _skewers_, _slats_) lay several cobs in a row a few inches apart as posts. unite them by laying across them two rows of skewers or kindergarten slats. join with tiny tacks. use in the sand-table or dolls' farm. =house= (_cobs_, _nails_) ( ) take two cobs and place them opposite to each other. place two others across the ends of the first two, at right angles to them. then two more directly over the first two and so on, building up alternately for log cabin. this is the first simple building experiment of the little child. two such cabins put together will make a two-roomed house. thus made it will be crude with wide interstices between the logs, but this forms no objection to the child. ( ) when he does manifest the desire for something better made--a house which will not admit the rain and snow--a more solid house can be made thus: place three cobs end to end to form three sides of a square. directly upon these lay three more, and nail firmly to those beneath at the ends, with slender nails. build up in this way as high as desirable. one side has, however, been left open. now put in the fourth wall but leave place for the doorway. do this by making the lower part of the wall of cobs so short that they do not even go half way across the opening. take two such short cobs and nail each to the side of the house. a little space will be left between them, say of two inches. take two more of same length and place on top of the first two and nail in place. the third cob may be long enough to extend straight across the little house making the top of the doorway. put another and another on top until the last row is reached. roof with similar logs or with cardboard. the child can be trained a little in forethought when led to save anything like corncobs for possible use in the future. =furniture= (_ short cobs_, _ long slender ones_, _tacks_, _cheesecloth_, _fine cord_, _cotton batting_) take four short cobs for sturdy legs. nail to these four slender cobs for bed-frame. in the inner part of the long sides of the bed hammer small tacks about / inches apart. then string cord from one tack across to the opposite one and so on, to make springs. make mattress of cheesecloth stuffed with cotton. other furniture can easily be made in similar manner. in this work, as with other suggestions here given, older children will need to help younger ones and thus the spirit of helpfulness and sympathy is exercised. corn kernels--dry =portieres= (_kernels of corn_, _straws_, _needle_, _coarse thread_, _pan_) soak corn in pan of water over night or till soft. get inch-long pieces of straw at kindergarten supply store, or, if obtainable in the country, get the straws entire and let the children cut them into inch pieces. in all this work it is desirable to let the child do as much as possible himself. later, when familiar with materials and simple processes, let him use the prepared bought material. now, let him string the corn and straws alternately. he can then vary by stringing first one kernel and one straw; then two kernels and one straw; then three, etc. this gives practice in counting, and exercises also his sense of taste and proportion and his invention. a pretty effect can be secured by using kernels of the two colors, red and yellow. suspend a number of such strings in the doorway; they may be all of the same length or may be very short in the middle of the doorway and gradually get longer as the jamb is approached. =designing= (_red and yellow kernels_) on a rainy day let the child employ his inventive skill in making designs of the red and yellow kernels on a flat table. he can lay them in squares, oblongs, crosses, etc. pop-corn there are few american children who need to be told how to pop corn; they see it done before they are able to do it themselves. but this fascinating occupation is not known to many children outside of the united states. perhaps it is well that our children should appreciate their privilege in this respect. if a popper is unobtainable, corn can be quickly and deliciously popped by putting a tablespoonful of butter in a deep kettle and when it is hot dropping in a cupful of popcorn. shake or rather stir to keep from burning and in a short time the kettle will be full of the white popping fairy-like kernels. salt or sugar can be sprinkled in as desired. =balls= (_corn_, _popper_, _sugar_, _molasses or water_) make a thin syrup by boiling together equal quantities of sugar and water or two cupfuls sugar, one of molasses or syrup, one teaspoonful vinegar, and butter size of an egg. cook until it hardens when dropped in water, then pour it over quarts of popped corn as quickly as possible and mold into balls, making about twenty. if made with strawberry syrup the color will be a beautiful red. =festoons= (_popped corn_, _needle_, _coarse thread_) thread the kernels to adorn walls or picture frames or christmas tree. nuts =boat= (_walnut shell_, _pan of water_, _toothpicks_, _candle-wax_) when busy with her baking the mother can give the three-year-old in his high chair a half walnut shell for a boat. an older child can elaborate into a sail-boat by cutting a triangular piece of paper for a sail, glueing it to a toothpick for mast, and then melting a drop of wax from a candle and inserting the mast while the wax is still warm. a burnt match can be shaped into a mast also. such a fleet of tiny vessels would prettily set a table for a farewell dinner to one going abroad. =surprise walnuts= (_english walnuts_, _baby-ribbon_, _tiny dolls or animals_, _glue_) open a number of walnuts carefully so as not to break the shell. remove the meats and fasten the two sides together with a tiny strip of ribbon, which serves as a hinge, glueing the ends of the ribbon to the inside of the half shells. ribbon need be only an inch long or less. put a tiny doll or a wee china rabbit or kitten inside the shell and tie around with ribbon. little china animals come in sets of five or six. a little verse of greeting or a conundrum can be written and put inside if the toys are not available. a group of little children could be kept busy and happy for an afternoon making some of these little souvenirs for a home dinner or for a fair. =nut-animals= (_peanuts_, _toothpicks_) the imagination of most children will quickly perceive resemblances to all kinds of creatures in the queer shapes of peanuts. take such a peanut and stick into it four bits of toothpicks for legs and two tiny ones for ears. if the toothpicks are not sharp or strong enough to penetrate of themselves, make incisions with a sharp pin. one common shape suggests a cat, seated. two vertical pieces would make the front legs and two horizontal pieces the back legs resting on the ground. eyes and mouth can be inked in. another shape hints at an owl with sharp, curved beak. another will make a hen. once started on this line of experiment, the child will discover likenesses for himself. these creatures can be used in the toy farm. =peanut party= (_see page _) apples =candlestick= (_apple_, _candle_) cut in the top of a rosy apple a hole of right size to hold a candle. appropriate for thanksgiving. a carrot can also be used thus, but a part must be cut away at the bottom so as to secure a firm base. oranges =baskets= (_orange_, _smaller fruits_) cut an orange horizontally partly through the middle from each side so as to leave a part in the centre which can be cut into a handle. hollow out the interior and put raisins, small nuts, etc., in it. red peppers =lantern= (_large red pepper_, _knife_) hollow out a large red pepper and cut into it eyes, nose and mouth, making a miniature jack-o'-lantern. this makes a pretty table decoration. let the child help as much as possible by making these little table decorations. if you want boy and girl to love home, give them a share in making it interesting and attractive. do not discourage them if their efforts are a little crude at times. it is the spirit of good-will which makes the blessed home. egg-shells =garden= (_shell_, _earth_, _birdseed_) cut an egg-shell in half horizontally, with a sharp pair of scissors, and three days before easter put into it a little earth, place in this a little canary seed, or a single pea or bean, and a little plant will delight the child. =doll's cradle= (_shell_, _ribbon half an inch wide_, _paste_, _cardboard_) take a smooth white egg and blow it. to do this make a tiny pin-hole in each end, and by blowing into one end steadily the contents can be emptied out of the other. draw lines lengthwise and crosswise around the shell, dividing it into four equal parts. then, following the line, cut away the upper quarter toward the small end. this leaves a cradle with a small canopy. paste the ribbon neatly around for a binding round the edge. rockers can be made by cutting curved pieces / inch wide out of thick cardboard, although such a cradle will rock without rockers. mattress for above. (_thin white ribbon_, _milkweed down_, _needle_, _sewing silk_) cut and sew the ribbon into a tiny mattress for this fairy cradle, and stuff with milkweed down. if the ribbon is just the width of the cradle the edges of the mattress can be neatly overcast. a tiny doll may then be placed within the cradle. =boat= (_goose-egg_, _leatherette paper_, _kindergarten slats_) blow the egg as described above. cut in half lengthwise. cut the paper into strips / inch wide. in each side of the shell cut an indentation / inches deep and / inches wide for oarlocks. then bind neatly with the paper strips. cut the slats (or a piece of berry box will do) into tiny oars and paste a seat across, which is also cut out of a slat. careful handling is required for these dainty toys, and if the child seems to get nervous let her do only a little at a time; but much neatness and skill is exercised in the making, and it is good practice for older children. the wise mother soon learns to detect the difference between the poor work which is the result of pure nervousness and that which is the consequence of carelessness. the latter should never be permitted to stand. see to it that what the child does is up to his best capacity. =humpty-dumpty eggs= (_shell_, _shot_, _water-color paints_, _a bit of cotton-batting_, _and a bit of tough paper_) take a shell and empty of contents as described above. enlarge the hole at one end sufficiently to drop in a dozen tiny shot obtainable at hardware store. paste over the opening the bit of paper, and on that a little cotton to simulate hair. paint upon the surface eyes, nose, and mouth. a comical little toy which always regains its balance, however placed, is the result. in playing with this the child unconsciously imbibes a few ideas about equilibrium, equipoise, etc. tell him you want him to be a man that, however placed, will always be able to get upon his feet again. =foot-ball=, or rather it might be called breath-ball (_egg-shell_, _water-color paints_) take an empty shell and paint to resemble a football or in some college or high school colors. see page for directions for game. =toy lamp= (see under doll-houses) prunes and raisins =turtle= (_raisin and five cloves_) take a plump raisin and stick into it five cloves for head and legs. =man= (_raisins or prunes_, _toothpicks_) make a man by running a toothpick through three raisins for a body. into the top one stick two other toothpicks, with two raisins each for arms and two other toothpicks with raisins make the legs. each leg has a projecting raisin for a foot and another large raisin makes the head. these are fun-makers for a children's party, one at each plate. seeds =stringing= (_squash seeds--dried_, _strong thread_, _needle_) little children can be happily occupied making chains of squash, pumpkin, and water-melon seeds that have been saved and made soft by soaking awhile in water. the black seeds of the water-melon alternate prettily with the white seeds of the other gourds. variety can be introduced by stringing several of one color and then several of another, counting by twos, threes, etc. this gives exercise in counting, in pleasing grouping of colors, and so exercises both the invention and the taste of the very little child. =designing= (_black seeds_, _white seeds_) let the child make designs of the seeds upon the table. place a black one for a centre and a white one on each side. repeat this figure for a foot or more, placing the groups an inch apart and observe the effect. tell him thus to make a design for the frieze of the room. another effect is produced by placing a white seed as a centre and placing four or five around it. vary still further by placing a circle of black seeds around the whole. these few examples will serve to indicate the endless variety that can be secured, and is a training in invention and taste. let the child always have in mind a design for some particular purpose, as of wall-paper, oil-cloth, etc. lead him to observe similar effects in carpets, wall-paper, etc. the best of these attempts can be made comparatively permanent by pasting upon small sheets of tinted bristol-board. the chief value in preserving any such work is for purposes of comparison as the child improves. =counters= save out white and black seeds for counters in checkers, go-bang, etc. =squash-seed chicken= (_ seeds_, _white thread_, _two quill toothpicks_, _bit of red flannel_, _feather from duster_) take squash seeds and soak till soft. take five of these and place side by side with pointed ends up. above these place four, their wide ends coming between the points of the others. above these place three in the same relative position. above these put two, and above these and between them place the squash-seed which is to be the head of the chicken. now, beneath the original five, place four, pointed ends up; beneath these put three, then two, then one. if these are rightly placed, the pointed ends of one row come just at the sides of the wide end of the seeds above. [illustration: how to string the seeds.] run a thread through the lower end of the two and the upper end of the three; then through the lower end of three and the upper end of the four; continue thus till all have been united. the result thus far will be a double pyramid of the seeds. draw an eye in the middle of the head, paste or sew on a bit of quill for a bill and a bit of flannel for a comb. attach a few feathers from the duster for a tail. take two more seeds and sew to the _middle_ of the row of _five_ for the thigh of the legs, and to each sew a quill for the rest of the legs, cutting into points at one end for toes. [illustration: squash-seed chicken.] make another chicken like the above and suspend the two face to face upon a slender stick by running a thread through the head and one through the tail. when the stick is moved the chickens assume very realistic attitudes. a comical toy, made with no expense save that of time and patience. (see illustrations.) =pincushion or penwiper= (_five plump apple-seeds_, _sharp pen-knife_, _black thread_, _stiff card_, _square of muslin_, _emery or cotton batting_) save out five seeds, and cut the cuticle of the large end into two tiny points to simulate the ears of a mouse. knot the thread and run a tiny bit through for a tail. paste these upon a visiting card, and near them paste a tiny bag made of white muslin to simulate a flour-bag. it can be stuffed with cotton or with emery for needles or pins. or the card can be sewn upon several layers of cloth as decoration for a penwiper. =imitation water= muskmelon seeds placed in an undulating line in the sand-box suggest water. soap =hammering= (_old-fashioned bar soap_, _hammer_, _nails_) a wee child will entertain himself for a long time by hammering nails into a bar of soap if the proper tools be given him. in this simple activity he exercises both mind and body. it requires good coördination on the part of the little one to strike the nail just right, and he enjoys not only the exercise itself, but also the pleasure of imitating the carpenter who uses the hammer so skilfully. =drawing= (_white soap_, _window-pane_) on a day when he must stay indoors, give your child a piece of white soap and let him show you what he can draw upon the window-pane. ships and trees, houses and flowers have a fairy-like appearance when drawn with this commonplace material upon the impromptu background of glass. this allows the freedom of movement found in blackboard work. it gives scope to the child's imaginative powers and should add nothing to the housekeeper's cares, being readily removed with a damp cloth. it may reveal creative possibilities in some otherwise "mute, inglorious" artist. cereal boxes =moving-van= (_cereal-box_, _glue_, _two skewers_, _ button-molds_, _ nails or strong pins_) take a box (quaker oats or force, etc.). cut out doors and side openings for a moving-van. it may be well to draw these first. for a model, look at any van or grocer's wagon. it will be seen that models are numerous and various. if more explicit directions are required we give the following, although it is always well to have the child use his own mind as far as possible before going to others for ideas. remove the top of the box, which becomes the front of the wagon. the bottom of the box will be the back of the wagon. this bottom will be found to consist of two layers of cardboard. remove the outer one and cut the inner one once through the middle to make two doors. on each side of the wagon cut an oblong window / inch from the top, / inch from the bottom, and / inch from the front. let it be two inches wide. place a seat across from one window to the other; fasten with glue. it may be just a straight piece one inch wide, or may be two inches wide, folded once through the middle lengthwise to give a back. for wheels use wooden button-molds, two inches wide, or circles sawed from a broom handle. for axles use wooden skewers or cut a piece from a stick of kindling wood about / inch wide. whittle the ends till they are slender enough to hold the button-molds. then put on the wheels, inserting a slender nail or pin outside to keep them from coming off the axle. glue the axle to the box. if wheels are cut from broom-handle, a nail can be driven through the centre for an axle and then pushed into the side of the box, or a nail pushed through a button-mold directly into the box will hold. punch two holes into the front of the wagon, tie cord through and the wagon can be drawn along. it may be painted if desired. for horses, trace a picture of a horse from some book or advertisement on cardboard, cut out and harness to wagon. =lantern= (_box_, _scissors_, _candle_, _pencil_) draw on the box holes to represent eyes, nose and mouth. then cut these out. cut holes near the top of box to put wires through for carrying the box. use a wire about two feet long, put the ends through the holes and bend up. let a little of the wax drip from the end of the candle to the bottom of the inside of the box, and when a soft centre has been made push the candle down and it will stand firm. only older children should use these, lest harm result. but children do make them at election times for transparencies. the openings may be lined with colored tissue paper. =house= (_cereal box_, _paste_, _scissors_, _wall-paper_, _etc._) remove one broad side. stand box on one long narrow side as room of doll's house. cut an opening in the remaining broad side for a window. furnish with paper furniture. (see page .) edam cheese =lantern= (_cheese_, _knife_, _candle_) after the interior of one of these round, red cheeses has been scooped out and eaten by the family, the discarded red shell will make a fine jack-o'-lantern, if the proper holes for eyes, nose and mouth be cut into it and a candle inserted inside. the candle may be inserted in a socket cut into the bottom of the rind, or it may be made to stand firmly in a bed of wax or tallow melted from its own lower end. salt =play for baby= (_fine table salt_, _spoon_, _bottle_, _small box or pan_) if clean fine sand is not at the moment available, give the baby a box containing a heap of salt and a teaspoon and bottle, and he will be happy for a long time, passing the salt from one bottle or box to another. to the young mother this may seem akin to foolishness, but in thus playing simply with sand or with salt the baby is exercising faculties and working out baby problems which he should be given opportunity to try. he is becoming acquainted with his environment, his little world. tin cans =burnt-match safe= (_mustard box_, _oil paints_, _brush_, _ribbon_, _nail_, _hammer_) punch two holes near the upper edge of a discarded mustard box, the holes to be opposite each other. these may be made by hammering a nail through the tin, holding the box firmly against a block of wood or stone for pressure. with oil paints, one color, begin at the top to paint the box, graduating from light to darker tones as the bottom is approached. lighter tones may be secured by mixing the blue or red with chinese white. a flower design may be painted by one skilled in the use of the brush. tie ribbon through the holes by which to suspend the box, and the result is an article both useful and pretty. =flower-pot= (_can_, _ivory paints_, _brush_) paint an empty can with green or brown ivory paint and use as flower-pot for growing plant. children love to handle a paint-brush, and this offers a legitimate occasion for such occupation. a small hole should be punched in bottom of can for drainage. =hanging-basket= (_can_, _nail_, _hammer_, _cord_, _raffia_) punch holes for suspending as described above. then make a covering of raffia as explained on page and hang up by the cord. =wheels= (_covers of baking-powder tins_, _nail_, _hammer_) with the nail, hammer a hole through the centre of the cover, placing upon a stone step or other brace. the little wheels may be used to complete toy wagons that the child is making. tin foil =toy dishes= (_tin foil from cream-cheese wrappers_, _etc_.) take the tin foil, and by simple squeezing and pressing and shaping, a little practice will enable one to make it into tiny pitchers, goblets, pans, etc., for dolly's table. =toy mirror= (_tin foil_, _scissors_) smooth carefully with the fingers and cut a piece of the tin foil into the shape and size to fit a little cardboard bureau. a larger piece will simulate water in the sandbox park. =toy money= (_tin foil_, _coin_, _scissors_) smooth the tin foil with the thumb nail, place a cent or a nickel beneath, and press and smooth again, making an impression of the coin that may be cut out and used in playing store. =toy cutlery= (_tin foil_, _scissors_) cut tiny knives, forks and spoons out of the tin foil for the paper-dolls' table. cork save all corks and they may be used in a variety of ways. =toy raft= (_cork_, _wire or hairpins_) run several corks on a piece of wire to resemble a log; make several such and then tie together to make a raft, tying between the corks. =toy boat= (_circular flat cork_, _tacks_, _wire_, _toothpick_, _paper_) insert a toothpick in one of the large flat corks that sometimes cover pickle glasses. paste a paper triangle upon this for a sail and set afloat in a dishpan sea. =flower-rack= (_flat cork_, _pencil_) take a flat piece of cork such as is used by entomologists upon which to impale insects, or any flat, _thin_ piece of cork will do if several inches in diameter. such cork may be easily perforated by a slender pencil. make a number of perforations several inches apart, and then the cork may rest upon a water-filled saucer or other deep dish, and the stalks of single flowers may be inserted into the holes so that they are supported by the cork. =furniture= (_circular corks_, _pins_, _worsted of pleasing color_, _cashmere or silk goods_) into the upper side of a round cork about one inch in diameter insert five to seven pins. twist and weave the worsted in and out, under and over those pins, so as to make a firm, solid back to a little chair. the ends of the worsted may be neatly disposed of by threading on a needle and running in and out for a few stitches till concealed. for legs, insert four strong pins, and wind these round and round with the worsted, finishing neatly by running with a needle in and out. if the seat seems too plain it may first, before the chair is made, be covered with silk or cashmere. to do this cut the cloth into a circle somewhat larger than the diameter of the cork. run a gathering thread around the circumference, and putting the cork in the centre draw the thread and so gather beneath the seat. to make a really neat finish the edge should be turned in before gathering. =swimming-float= (_dozens of corks_, _strong canvas cloth, measuring × inches_, _needle_, _thread_) make two strong canvas bags, measuring about × inches. fill these with corks to act as floats. unite the two bags by a strong band of canvas about × inches in size, and let the children use when in bathing. =cork in art= in making models of world-renowned buildings, such as churches, cathedrals, temples, etc., cork is used in large and small pieces. in germany it is used in making pictures. a sky background is painted in water-color, and the flat pieces of cork are cut into shape and glued on to represent walls and towers of buildings. the foliage of trees is represented by the more spongy pieces of cork, and the effects secured are interesting and beautiful. the children may like to experiment and see what they can do in this direction. =cork doll= (_see page _) chapter ii mother nature's horn of plenty many of the articles named under the market basket division of this book could be classified also under the above head. in addition we present the following: stones and pebbles =collections= (_stones_, _small boxes_) collect various pretty little stones and pebbles on river shore, coast or roadway, and classify in different ways--according to color, shape, size. this exercises the child's observing powers and trains him in detecting differences and resemblances. keep in small boxes. =bottled pebbles= (_pebbles_, _plain glass bottle_) put some pretty pebbles in a glass bottle filled with water which intensifies the color. send to some sick friend, especially some one from the prairies who may seldom see stones. it is always well for the child to have some definite object in view when he does anything. =toy path-markers= use pebbles in the sand-box for outlining the little paths in the wee park or farm. =jackstones= pebbles of right size and shape make good jackstones. =toy vegetables= (_small square of cheesecloth_, _needle_, _thread_, _pebbles_) make tiny cheesecloth bags and use pebbles as potatoes, apples, etc., in play with the little wagons made by the child. in playing store with them comes opportunity for counting and measuring. tiny boxes can be used for quart and pint measures, and the child may be shown that two pints make one quart, etc. =paper-weight= (_large, smooth stone_, _oil-paints_) if you find a large, smooth stone of pretty tone, let the older child decorate it with a little picture done in oil paints. shells =collections= (_shells_, _small boxes_) collect and classify according to color, shape, etc., and keep in separate boxes. =bottled shells= (_shells_, _bottle_) put little shells in bottle of water to bring out lovely colors. (see bottled pebbles above.) =border for sand-table= place small shells along little paths in sand-table, sometimes with concave side up and _vice versa_. larger shells, as clamshells, make fine borders for roads and paths in the country. they outline the road on a dark night. =water-color-cups= collect and save shells to give to some artist friend as extra cups for his water-color paints. =ramekin dishes= large shells make serviceable individual dishes for baked fish, etc. appropriate for fish dinner. =individual salt and butter dishes= these can be made of the smaller pink and yellow shells found on many coasts. let the children collect shells for this purpose, and use for fish dinner. =toy-boat= a small shell is often found which, with the little natural seat found at one end, at once suggests a little boat. have the children collect and save for those far from the shore. =pin-tray= (_scallop shell_, _oil-paints_) paint a marine view in oils inside a shell for pin-tray. =pin-cushion= (_small piece of satin or velvet_, _saw-dust_, _glue_, _two perfect scallop-shells_) make a small pin-cushion of satin or velvet, filled with saw-dust, and glue between a pair of scallop shells, so that it fits in between as they open out. =piano scarf= (_several dozen small, thin, yellow shells found on atlantic coast_, _one yard nile green india silk_, _strong sewing silk_) hem the silk an inch deep at each end. sew to one end a fringe of shells made as follows: the shells usually have a tiny hole in them when found. if not, one is easily pierced by a strong needle. take twelve lengths of strong sewing silk, white, each inches long. to each of these tie twelve shells at intervals of an inch each. you will then have twelve strings of shells, which are to be sewed to the scarf as a fringe, putting them about three inches apart. sew two rows of shells directly on the scarf itself, putting them about four inches apart each way. if desired, in making the fringe some of the strings may be shorter than others, arranged so that the long and short ones alternate. birch bark =needle-case or penwiper= (_squares of chamois skin or flannel_, _sewing-silk_, _paint_) cut bark into circles, squares, oblongs, etc. decorate with gold lettering or borders of gold. make several leaves of flannel or chamois skin and sew the bark on to these as a cover. the flannel may be scalloped. an appropriate sentiment to write upon penwiper cover is "extracts from the pen of--" putting in the name of the recipient. the leaves and cover may be sewed together with a cross-stitch. =handkerchief-box= (_punch_, _several strands of raffia_) cut two pieces of bark × inches. cut four others × inches. along the edge of these punch (with a conductor's punch or one that can be bought at a kindergarten supply place) holes an inch apart and / inch from edge. sew the four narrow pieces to the square for bottom and sides of box. sew remaining square more loosely to one side as cover. sew with strands of raffia, sewing through the holes already made. if desired to give a more finished appearance punch more holes along edge of box and lid, making them / inch apart. then hold a fine basket reed or piece of raffia along the edges and overcast. if lavender or sweet grass is obtainable, that will be even better than reed or raffia for the edge, lending its fragrance to the gift. the box can be still further finished by lining with dainty silk. make glove box in same way, but longer in proportion to width. =pencil and paint-brush box= (_bark_, _raffia_, _needle or crochet hook_) this is cylindrical. cut a piece of bark × inches. punch in it a series of holes / of an inch apart, and / inch from edge of each short side. place these so that one edge overlaps the other and the holes coincide with one another. then sew together with raffia. use a short needle or none at all. raffia can be drawn through holes with a crochet-hook. punch holes in the lower end of this cylinder and cut a circle of same size as diameter of cylinder out of cardboard. punch corresponding holes in this and sew the bottom in. strengthen top by overcasting over a twist of raffia, sweet grass or sweet clover. =canoe= (_bark_, _pencil_, _thread_, _paper_, _paraffine_) fold strong piece of bark and cut an outline of a canoe, rounding the ends. sew the ends closely together with stout thread, overcasting the edges with same. make watertight by lining with paper dipped in melted paraffine. paraffine may be bought at grocer's. =fan=, modeled after east indian pattern (_bark_, _kindling wood_, _dye_, _gold paint_) cut two stiff pieces of bark into hatchet-shaped trapezoid. punch row of holes in the narrowest side, whittle a handle of pinewood, and sew it to the narrow edge of bark over and over through the holes. the handle may be stained with some natural dye and fan decorated with gold paint. =picture-frame= (_bark_, _punch_, _sweet grass_) cut two pieces of bark × inches, one of smooth bark, one of the outer bark with pleasing markings. punch holes around the edges of each / inches apart. in the rough outside piece cut an oval - / × inches. around this inner oval punch holes near together and bind this around with sweet grass overcast with fine raffia. now sew the two pieces of bark together, first cutting into the back piece a slit near the bottom into which to slide the photograph. in using sweet grass as binding it is well to wind the bunch first with thread to hold the pieces together, and after the grass is firmly sewed the temporary thread can be cut away. the bunch of grass thus used may be about as thick as half the little finger. punch may be bought at kindergarten store, or conductor's punch will do. gourds =darning-egg= a smooth well-shaped gourd (mock-orange) makes a serviceable darning egg. =hanging-basket= (_large gourd_, _soil_, _plant_) clear the gourd of fibre and seeds, after cutting off the top rim evenly. pierce the top with two holes through which to attach cord for hanging, fill with a light, loose soil, and plant in it a drooping, trailing plant. cut a hole in the lower end to allow for drainage. let the country child save gourds of good shape to present, thus filled, to city friends. vegetables =sweet-potato vine= put a sweet potato in sandy loam in a hanging basket and water occasionally. it will produce a beautiful, graceful vine. =carrot-top= cut off the top of a young carrot evenly and place it on top of a pot filled with sand. moisten well, and keep in the dark till it has begun to sprout; when the leaves appear take it out, and the word "carrot-top" will acquire a new meaning, the result is so pretty. =turnip= take a turnip and clean the outside, taking care not to injure the parts from which the leaves spring. cut a piece off the bottom and scoop out the inside, leaving the top intact. fasten string or wire to it so as to hang it upside down. fill and keep filled with water, and soon the leaves will sprout and curl up, forming a beautiful natural hanging basket. raffia this flexible fiber, long used by florists, is now also used a great deal in the schools for the educational hand-training it affords. it can be obtained at kindergarten supply places. =reins= take three to six strands and braid into reins for playing horse. as the ends of the strands are approached (each is about a yard long) begin to weave in a new strand, as inconspicuously as possible. do not have the strands all exactly the same length to begin with, because if you reach the end of all at the same time it makes it difficult to weave in new ones neatly. =mat= take such a long braid as described above, and holding one end flat, turn it round and round spirally but flat, and sew with thread to make a mat for the tea-pot. by bending up a little as you sew you can make a basket. =picture-frame= (_cardboard_, _raffia_, _thread and needle_) cut a circle of cardboard × inches in diameter. from the centre cut out a smaller circle three inches in diameter. this leaves a circular cardboard frame. wind this round and round smoothly with the raffia. paste another circle on the back to give a good finish, but in this second circle cut a slit up which to slide the photograph. =woven mat= (_loom_, _raffia_) thread a little loom with raffia warp as described on page . then weave the woof (also of raffia) back and forth to make a mat or a case for hanging basket. to make the latter the right size have the warp threads as _long_ as the can is _around the circumference_, and have the _width_ about the same as the _height_ of the can. the raffia can be colored with diamond dyes and wee rugs made for the doll-house on tiny looms. =grace hoops= (see under plays and games) leaves =festoons and wreaths= (_leaves, fresh or dried_, _thorns or needle and thread_) city children may need to be told what seems to be handed down to the country child from generation to generation, that leaves may be made into wreaths for the head or decoration for the room either by overlapping one upon another and fastening together with a thorn or sharp twig, or by stringing together on a stout thread. =to dry or press= (_blotting paper_, _two small smooth boards_, _strap_, _wax or linseed oil_) gather and press pretty autumn leaves thus: have ready two boards measuring about one by two feet. put the leaves between sheets of blotting paper and place these between the boards and then strap them tightly together, or if no straps are convenient, put the boards beneath a heavy weight (a book will do). change the paper every day or so till sure that they are quite dry. to preserve and brighten the colors after drying dip in melted wax and press a moment with a hot iron, or clear, boiled linseed oil will do in place of the wax, using, however, as little as possible. =decoration for curtains= pin to lace curtains in attractive arrangement. =transparency= (_leaves_, _bolting-cloth_, _ yard white india silk_, _sewing silk_, _needle_) . take a piece of bolting-cloth twice the length of the largest leaf and fold over evenly. open again and place the leaves upon the bolting-cloth artistically in a row; fold the cloth over again and baste. bind the edges with white ribbon, and at the two upper corners sew the ends of a narrow ribbon with which to suspend the transparency in the window. . or, if preferred, sew the bolting-cloth transparency as a border to the end of a yard of india silk as a scarf for shelf or piano. =frieze of leaves= (_leaves_, _cartridge or other strong paper of good tone_, _glue_) a pretty frieze for a room can be made by pasting leaves on a long, foot-high strip of paper which forms a background. the effect will depend largely upon the harmony between the color of the leaves and the background, as well as upon the arrangement of the leaves. they may be arranged in an irregular line, or may be placed so as to form artistic groups of twos and threes or fours. =collections of leaves= when the collecting instinct is upon him, let the child collect and classify leaves according to shape. see if he can tell by the leaf what tree it came from, and if he recognizes the different varieties of leaves. =four-leaved clovers= look for four-leaved clovers when on your country walks, and save to press and afterwards use in writing letters of good-will as decoration for paper, pasting on at upper left hand corner; or use to decorate place cards for dinners. it will hardly be necessary to state that the four-leaved clover has for long years been the symbol of good-luck. =shadow game= (_see under sun and shadow_) feathers =feather flowers= (_a large goose with many white feathers_, _beeswax_, _spools of wire of different sizes_, _aniline dyes, though vegetable dyes are preferable if obtainable_, _strong scissors suitable for cutting wire_, _spools of strong white cotton thread_, _spool of milliner's green-covered wire_) pluck the breast of the goose. (feathers come out very easily.) the feathers, being very light, fly about and therefore it is best to do the plucking in an uncarpeted room or one in which the floor has been covered with a large sheet. classify the feathers according to size, and arrange in bundles of about thirty by winding a stout thread around the quills. thus they are ready for the dyeing process. dye according to directions on packages. for deep green of leaves and for calyx immerse for several minutes; for more delicate tints immersion for a second is sufficient. suppose we select for our first effort a carnation. choose a real one for a model. having selected about twenty feathers of the required sizes and colors, cut the ends to resemble the form of the petal and then pink the edge as in the real flower. the actual number of petals required will depend upon the size of the flower copied and must be left to the judgment of the maker. take the measure of the length of stem required on the wire and double it (wire must be twice as long as stem). wind tightly and evenly around it the green milliner's wire to make the stem. soften the beeswax by heating slightly in a pan till soft enough to mold between the fingers. shape it into the form of the calyx, inserting the stem at the lower end, and pushing it far enough to insure firmness. wrap this soft calyx form round with green feathers to represent the flower copied. upon accuracy at the beginning depends the success of the flower, therefore it is necessary to observe the natural one closely. the green feathers must entirely cover the calyx mold, the upper ones curving back a little as in the genuine calyx. take some colored petals and insert between the calyx and the wax mold, pushing the quill end of the feather firmly into the wax. arrange the petals spirally, beginning at the bottom and building gradually up to the top. the larger feathers are used first, growing smaller toward the top. complete the flower by inserting the stamens and pistil, which are made by tearing one small feather into narrow strips and curling these by drawing once over a scissors blade. the simplest flowers to make are: carnation pinks, violets, sweet peas, fuchsias, roses and easter lilies. with the proper amount of time, patience and perseverance, any flower can be successfully made. if leaves are desired, cut green feathers into the required shape and attach. =indian headdress= (_large turkey feathers_, _glue_, _cardboard_, _paint_) save large feathers from turkey or rooster and make indian headdress by glueing upon cardboard cut to proper shape. for model look at copper cent. flowers =pressed morning-glories= (_the flowers_, _white tissue-paper_, _scissors_, _book or pressing boards_) press the flowers between a fold of thin tissue-paper. the delicate flowers will adhere to the paper, which is sufficiently transparent however for the morning-glory to be visible through it. when dry, cut the paper from around the flower and pin to curtains, lambrequin, etc., as desired, or attach to letter paper. =soldier-flowers= (_milkweed blossoms_) the small blossoms of the milkweed may be made to stand in rows and columns like soldiers, two by two, four by four, etc., giving practice in counting. rose-haws =rosaries= (_haws_, _stout thread_, _needle_) when the beautiful red rose-haws ripen let the children string them, making rosaries to send to city friends. straws =stringing= (_scissors_, _needle_, _thread_, _cranberries_, _nuts_, _etc._) save the straw from rye and let the children cut it into one-inch lengths for stringing alternately with cranberries, nuts, beads, etc. use to decorate the room, to make portieres, and to decorate the child himself when dressing up. =blowing bubbles= (_straw_, _soapy water_) hollow straws several inches long may be used to blow tiny bubbles of soapy water in the absence of a clay pipe. sun and shadow =blue-prints= (_leaf_, _blue-print paper_, _running water_, _small oblong of glass_) a package of blue-print paper can be bought at any photographic supply place for from cents up, or can be had in the sheet from an architect's supply store. it must be carefully protected from the light till ready for use. take a square of the paper and place upon it a leaf or flower or inconspicuous weed that makes a good shadow on the sidewalk or window sill. place this in pleasing position upon the paper and put quickly in the bright sunshine, holding it in place with the small pane of glass (common picture glass will do). leave exposed to the sun for about ten minutes, then pour cold water over it for a moment or so, and the "shadow" will be seen to be permanently "fixed" in light blue against a darker blue background. an artist acquaintance has a hundred or more such prints of leaves, plants and flowers beautifully mounted in a japanese blank-book, the paper of which makes an exquisite background. she finds these shadows of the flowers and commonest weeds suggestive in her designing. =shadow game= (_smooth fence in sunshine_; _branch with leaves_.) . several children sit in row, facing smooth board fence. another group of children form their opponents. of these one walks behind seated row in such a way that his profile is visible on fence. seated children guess opponent from shadow cast. . one child casts on wall shadow of leafy branch. opponents guess name of parent tree. chapter iii saved from the scrap basket or work with scissors and paste what is known as free-hand cutting has been for some time recognized as of genuine educational value and is a source of great pleasure to the child when once he learns his capacity in this direction. when he tries, by means of paper and scissors, to express an idea, to illustrate some story, or to indicate something that he has seen, his notions of form and proportion become more definite and precise, and he learns to express action with remarkable skill and power. he learns to appreciate beauty of outline as seen in mountains and trees against a clear sky, and to recognize such beauty as there may be in what artists know as the "sky line," when darkness deepens and the mammoth buildings of a city loom up black against the sunset heavens. the definiteness of observation and skill with the hand acquired in this free cutting serves the child in many ways when in the school grades. many an otherwise useless piece of paper may, with the help of scissors, give the child hours of pleasure. but before he is able to use the scissors the child may receive pleasure and benefit from the use of paper alone. paper =tearing paper= (_any bit of paper_) give the children small pieces of paper and let them try to tear these into simple definite shapes. make a shoe, stocking, snowman, tree, ladder, cat, etc. watch that they do not grow nervous in doing it. after a little practice they will become surprisingly expert. paste what they make on a good background to save and compare with later efforts. this is a really educational occupation which involves absolutely no expense, as any clean piece of paper may be so used. will employ the child happily when traveling. the very youngest children, if they want to tear the newspaper, may be asked to tear it into tiny pieces which brother and sister can use in playing "hare and hounds." =cutting paper= let the child begin the _cutting_ by making a snowball out of white paper, and then a snowman. these need only crude outlines, such as are within his capacity. then lead him on, little by little, to cut a picture of the cat and of the dog, and illustrations to his favorite stories, as the "three bears." this is beloved in the kindergarten, requiring, as it does, pictures of the chairs, the bowls, etc. those who have not seen children do this kind of work will be surprised at the capacity developed. if he is afraid to attempt the freehand work, give the child pictures to cut around, as simple outlines of a cat seated, or a piece of fruit. then encourage him to cut without the outline. both efforts may run along together. if a line be drawn, be sure that it is heavy and distinct enough to be readily seen and followed. =birthday candles=} (_red paper, blank card, colored_ =firecrackers= } _crayon_) out of red paper let the child cut six (or any number desired) narrow strips for red candles, to represent birthday candles. place in a row upon a white card, to serve as place cards at a child's party. draw a bit of yellow at end of each candle to hint at a flame. the same may be turned into firecrackers for a "fourth of july" festival, a line being drawn to suggest a fuse. =soldier-caps= (_newspaper_, _pins or paste_) take brown wrapping paper or newspaper and cut a square. place before you and fold from _back_ to _front_, making an oblong. _while still folded_ make another fold by turning the left edge so that it exactly meets the right edge. open this much out and there is a crease running from top to bottom. now take the upper left hand corner and make it touch the bottom of this crease; take the upper right hand corner and make it touch the lower end of this crease. this gives a pointed cap, still unfinished. to finish cut a slit, an inch deep, up from each lower end of the cap and then fold a kind of hem up from the bottom and paste the ends over neatly. turn the hat over and fold a similar hem on the other side. turn in the corner and finish by pasting neatly. =plume for hat= (_paper as above_, _scissors_, _paste or pin_) take a strip of paper × inches. make a fringe or series of cuts in this about four inches long and / inch wide, and then roll it up and attach to hat with paste or a pin. =epaulets= for shoulder may be cut in similar way. the cutting of these fringes gives practice in the use of scissors. * * * * * the articles whose making we will now describe do not come under the head of free-hand cutting, as they usually require cutting according to measurement, and really definite directions. they are given in general in the order of difficulty in the making. =chains= (_scissors_, _paper_, _paste_, _toothpick_) let the little child begin by cutting strips of some bright paper or smooth wrapping paper into lengths of / by inches. make a ring of one of these, putting a wee bit of paste on the under part of one end and sticking it fast to the other end by overlapping. through this ring run another strip and paste into a similar ring, and so make a long chain of them wherewith to decorate the child's small person or the room. to make paste see page . it is well to have a small pomade box, obtainable at a druggist's, in which to keep the paste. it can then be covered and kept moist until the next time for using. but a little fresh mucilage or paste can at any time be put into a butter dish. a toothpick will make a good paste-stick, which the child can handle more easily than a brush. show him that a tiny bit of paste will suffice and that more makes the pretty ring mussy. if mother is sewing and the child restless and no bright colored paper convenient, let the child cut strips of newspaper right at hand and make the rings. his imagination will readily convert them into links of gold. =mask= (_paper of any color_, _scissors_, _chalk_, _cord_) cut an oval out of paper (or dress-lining) and in it cut holes for eyes, nose, and mouth, fitting first to the child's face to insure getting them in the right places. put a hole in the middle of each side through which to tie the string which fastens it around over the head. to add to the fun the mask may be colored with chalks. =newspaper wrappers= (_smooth brown wrapping paper_, _pencil_, _ruler_) take smooth pieces of brown wrapping paper. cut oblongs × inches. from one narrow edge then measure an inch down on each side and make a dot. make another dot at the middle of this same narrow side. then draw a curve from dot to dot and cut along the line. this makes the curved edge of the wrapper. the curve may be cut free hand by a skilful hand, or drawn with a compass. put some mucilage all along the edge of the curved side about / inch wide and let dry. make a dozen of these and give to father for a present, all ready for use when he wants to mail a paper. they can be made more complete by affixing a one-cent stamp on the right hand side where the curved edge begins. =papers for baking pans= (_brown paper_, _scissors_, _pencil_) give child paper and baking-pans, and let him cut papers ready for your use when making cake. let him do measuring. =book-mark= (_fine white or tinted paper_) take a piece of dainty paper and cut into an oblong × inches. fold lengthwise and cut a small triangle from each end so as to leave a point when opened out. now cut a circle in the middle of the paper (which is still folded) and cut other shaped openings, diamonds, triangles, etc., along the fold, / or / inches apart. open and you have a simple openwork bookmark the little child can give father for birthday. a little experiment will show how to secure variety and intricacy of design. =fringed bon-bon papers= (_white tissue paper_, _colored ink or water-color paints_, _candy_, _verse of poetry_) cut a sheet of tissue paper into little oblongs × inches. dip each narrow end / of an inch into ink, red, green, etc., or into water-color paints, and let dry. then cut this colored margin into narrow slits, making fringe. copy some appropriate couplet on a narrow slip of paper and place it with a piece of candy inside the paper, giving the fringed ends a final twist. the making of these at home for some future occasion, such as a birthday party, will afford a happy hour's amusement. =paper money= (_white paper_, _pencil_, _scissors_, _cent_) place the cent beneath the paper and then press on it with the bottom of the pencil, rubbing at the same time with a circular motion. soon the impression of the coin will appear on the paper. cut out and use in playing store. =snowflakes= (_white paper_, _mucilage_, _a ten-cent box of mica crystals or five cents' worth of alum powder_) a six-pointed star must first be made of white paper. to make this take piece of the paper from to inches square, according to the size of the star. fold the paper once and cut an approximate half circle. then fold this in thirds, pressing the folds to make creases. if opened out the circle would be marked by six equi-distant creases radiating from the centre. do not, however, open, for you are now ready to cut. before doing this, observe if possible some real snowflakes, with microscope or magnifying glass, or even with the naked eye. notice the form and hexagonal structure. this is seen best if the flake is caught on some woolen fabric. then look into an unabridged dictionary and study the picture of the magnified snowflake crystal. then cut tiny triangles, circles, etc., into your folded circle so that when opened out it will suggest an enlarged snowflake with its six varied points. a delicate appearance is secured by cutting delicate tapering points, or, if the points be broad, cut holes in them to give a lacey effect. we do not give more definite directions for cutting, as the great fascination of the occupation consists in the experiments with their many surprises. ( ) now take the paper snowflake and brush it lightly over with a thin, transparent mucilage, and then sift over it some mica crystals obtainable at a toy-store, one box being sufficient for many flakes. after drying, cover the other side in the same way. suspended from the christmas tree, these are very effective. ( ) the flakes can be made in another way, thus: make a solution of alum water, dissolving five cents' worth of alum in a pint of water. be sure it is all dissolved. then put the flakes in a shallow dish (granite ware or some material that the acid will not injure). cover with the solution and put in a place slightly warm, so that the gradual evaporation of the water will help in the slow formation of the crystals. when finally evaporated the lacey "cut-out" will be found covered with alum crystals. cover during evaporation with some light protection from the dust. =tailless kite= (_two sticks, - / feet long and / inch wide_, _a ball of strong but thin twine_, _two pieces tissue paper_, _knife_, _flour paste_) get the sticks from the saw-mill. cut a notch in the two ends of each stick as a catch for the framework of twine which will be put on later. on one stick make a pencil mark about seven inches from the top. put the middle of the second stick across the first at this mark and bind the two together firmly at right angles to each other. you now have a skeleton in the form of a cross. number the ends of the sticks , , , , making the top , the right hand end , the bottom , and the left hand , and the place where they join . now bend the second stick (the cross piece) into a bow and tie a piece of twine from end to end like a bow-string. you must get the curve of the bow just right, so that the distance from the middle of the bow-string to the joinings of the sticks is the same as from the joinings of the sticks to the top of the main stick, _i. e._, seven inches. now carry twine all around, from end to end of the skeleton, to make a framework for the paper; put this twine through each notch and around the end of the stick several times to strengthen. now paste together, end to end, lengthwise, the two pieces of paper, to make one long piece (a single piece is not large enough). place the paper on the floor or broad table, and lay the frame upon it. the paper will not be as long or wide in all places as the framework, hence, fold it over the twine framework experimentally, and cut off in places where it is too wide. allow enough for secure pasting. use the cut-off corners to lengthen in other places where necessary, by pasting on. if two colors of paper are taken, the effect is very pretty, the corners being arranged to match each other. the best paste is made by a judicious mixture of ordinary flour and water. now the belly-band must be tied on, as the flying string is attached to the belly-band. the belly-band is attached on the outside or convex side of the kite, being attached at where the two sticks join; and at . it must be just as long as the distance from to added to the distance from to . when tied at both ends put your pencil through the loop and move it so that the pencil rests upon the figure . the cord will then make an angle coinciding with - and - . at the angle , attach the belly-band. in flying the kite it is important to have a very long flying-string. cardboard or bristol board =go-bang board= (_bristol board_, _ruler_, _ink_, _pen_, _button-molds_, _water-color paints or colored inks_) get a piece of bristol board or clean cardboard at stationer's and cut it inches square. divide by straight lines into small squares / inches each way. to draw the straight lines in ink turn the ruler upside down and run the penholder against the edge, which is a little raised from the paper. this keeps the ink from blotting. four is the smallest number that can play with much success, and each should have about a dozen counters. these can be made of the smallest sized button-molds, each set of painted a different color, or distinguished by a ring of a particular color drawn upon its upper surface with ink or paint. small flat buttons may also be used. to win the game each player must succeed in getting a certain number of counters (number previously agreed upon), say four, five or six, in a straight row, either horizontally, vertically or obliquely. if he gets three in a row, then the next player should stop this opponent's progress at one end of the line by putting one of his own men there, and must depend upon his neighbor to close the other end of the line. one player must not give warning to another of the prospective success of a third. each must keep a lookout on his own account. =checker-board= (_bristol board or any stiff, smooth cardboard_, _smooth, glazed paper of two colors, red and black_, _paste_, _scissors_, _ruler_) cut from the cardboard a square of inches. draw a line parallel to each side one inch from the edge for a border. from each colored sheet of paper cut squares of - / inches each. paste eight of these in a row, alternating colors, and arranging so that they just touch the top border line. make eight such rows, one beneath the other, and finally giving squares. for checkers, button-molds of small size may be used. twelve will be needed of one color and twelve of another. paint these with water-colors. flat porcelain buttons may also be used. =toy screen= (_tinted cardboard_, _punch_, _worsted or ribbon_, _ small pictures_) cut four pieces of pale blue bristol board × inches. punch two holes in the two long sides of two of these, and in one side of each of the remaining ones. tie the four panels together with the ribbon or worsted so as to make a tiny screen, first pasting on each panel a miniature picture of a madonna and child or some other similar subject. suitable for child to give as christmas gift. must be done neatly. =fan= (_bristol board_, _pencil_, _worsted_, _two slats_, _scrap picture_) cut two pieces of tinted bristol board into ovals, - / × inches. make a series of pencil dots / inch from edge of oval and one inch apart. through these, holding the ovals together, punch holes. sew together with worsted, using the overhand stitch. having gone around once, if cross-stitch effect is desired, go around again the other way, going thus through each hole a second time. for handles take two long slats and glue on to each side of the fan from the centre down to the point of the oval, and beyond. paste a pretty scrap picture over the centre to finish off. tie the worsted around the ends of slats in a pretty knot to hold them together. baby ribbon may be used instead of worsted. =cardboard animals= (_glue_, _blocks or spools_, _picture-books_, _cardboard_, _tissue paper_) find models in picture-books, or get from butterick fashion co. their animal pictures, or same may be had from kindergarten supply stores. trace outline upon tissue paper, using soft pencil. turn paper over on cardboard and trace firmly again around the outline. this leaves impression of picture. cut it out and glue it to block or spool, or attach a cardboard brace to one side to make stand. =candlesticks= (_squares of bright tissue paper_, _bristol board_, _rubber bands_) cut circle of stiff cardboard inches in diameter. draw upon it two diameters at right angles to each other. from the _centre_ cut along each of these diameters for a little less than half an inch. bend up the corners thus made and insert a candle. cut pieces of tissue paper inches square; place the circle holding the candle upon the tissue paper, fold the latter around the circle and the candle, and put a rubber band around to hold in place. the appearance is improved if two colors of tissue paper be used. the effect up and down a table of these simple candlesticks is most festive. colors may be changed to suit special occasions. =chinese toy= (_three thin pieces of cardboard × - / inches in measurement_ [_visiting cards will do_], _ lengths of taffeta binding or baby ribbon, / inch wide × inches long_) the following toy can be made with little expense and very little trouble if directions are followed explicitly. it may be well to have an older child read each statement as the less experienced one tries to follow. a child who enjoys attempting things that are a little difficult will enjoy working this out. place the three cards one beneath the other, narrow sides facing each other. letter the cards respectively a, b, c. [illustration: chinese toy.] as they lie on the table, write on upper side of each card "right," and on the under side write "wrong." then place each card so that the "right" side is up. take card a and on _right_ side at middle of top place figure and at each lower corner place a figure . do the same with card b. turn b card over and on _wrong_ side of b put figure at each upper corner and figure at middle of lower edge. do same with card c on _wrong_ side. now we are ready to unite the cards by the ribbons. take one strip of ribbon and paste one end on right side of card a at figure . run it beneath the card and bring it out so as to paste the other end on the right side of card b at figure . take _two_ strips. paste one end of each at on card a. run beneath card b and turn up over so as to paste on figure of card b. a and b are thus loosely united and the toy may be considered finished, but it is more mysterious if made longer, as follows: turn over and at each figure on card b paste the ends of two strips of ribbon. (as ribbons already placed are loose this can be readily done.) run beneath b and bring up so as to paste the ends on each figure of card c. take another strip. paste the end on of card b. run ribbon beneath card c and turn up so as to paste on figure of card c. this completes set of three. others can be added _ad infinitum_ by ingenious children. to operate (if the word be not too pretentious a one in this connection) take hold of one of the cards at either end and keep turning it up and down so that first one narrow edge and then the other is uppermost. the remaining cards should fall in a continuous cascade. the rough sides may be finished by pasting on each a pretty paper lining cut just to fit. (see illustration.) miscellaneous =chinese kite= (_kindergarten slats_, _paper_, _glue_) take a firm, light paper (druggist's paper will do). cut two oblongs, × inches. cut off all the corners by an oblique line of three inches. fold each oblong lengthwise. place the folded edges back to back, still folded. take two slats and place one _under_ one oblong and _over_ the other, horizontally. do the same with the other slat, but reversing the _under_ and _over_ positions. take four strips of paper, which should be about one inch wide. paste two strips over the splints, one on each side, to hold them in place. place a third strip from top to bottom of the folded oblongs to hold them together. (they meanwhile lying back to back.) turn the oblongs over and place the remaining strip in corresponding position. the result is a four-winged kite. tie a cord around the slats and it is finished. =ash-tray= (_cigar bands_, _glass saucer_, _photographer's paste_, _square of felt_) for some time past children who are under the sway of the collecting instinct have acquired from friends or by purchase the bright colored bands that come around cigars and then have utilized them thus: make an ash receiver by getting at a stationer's a glass dish and its accompanying piece of felt. paste bands in pleasing positions upon the under side of the glass. (photographer's paste shows no discoloration.) meanwhile, the felt should have been thoroughly wet, stretched to fit the under side of the dish, and hung up to dry. when dry, paste upon the under side of the dish and trim off neatly the projecting corners. =pen-tray= (_materials same as above, except that stamps or embossed letter-heads are substituted for cigar bands_) there are many who do not wish to encourage smoking, and to such we suggest a pleasing modification of the above. buy the glass dish and felt above mentioned, and instead of the bands paste upon the dish canceled postage stamps or letter-head monograms, etc., for a pen-tray. a smooth glass saucer and any piece of bright-colored felt that may be in the house may of course be used. =scrap-book= (_colored paper-muslin_, _heavy sewing silk or worsted_, _paste_, _paste-stick_) cut paper-muslin of pretty colors, pink, blue or tan, into pieces × inches (six pieces in all). fold each one over once and fit together to make a book, the cover being of a color different from the body of the book. sew all together by overcasting the back with stitches / inch apart in one direction, and then going back in the opposite direction through the same holes, thus securing a cross-stitch effect. show the child how to paste scrap-pictures neatly in this book. he may keep it for himself or give it to the children's ward in a hospital or to some younger friend. a very little paste or glue will suffice; a bit in the centre and towards the corners of a picture. if the child has collected a large assortment of cards before beginning to make the book, let him classify them, putting together on one page animals, on another plants, on another pictures typical of the different seasons, etc. he may in this way suggest a house, putting on one page kitchen furniture arranged in some logical order; on another page the furnishings of bedroom, etc. pictures for this purpose may be cut from magazine advertisements, trade journals, etc. in the same fashion a store may be furnished with articles for sale, the counter, scales, and desk. this gives practice in selecting and arranging. good taste may be inculcated even from such small beginnings. chapter iv the sewing-basket while busy with thread and needle, the mother may find it necessary to suggest some happy employment for the little one who asks for something to do. what do the contents of the sewing-basket hint? buttons =spinning button= (_button_, _thread_) show the child a button strung upon a strong thread about inches long. then hold the thread firmly between thumb and finger of each hand and twirl it rapidly, drawing it suddenly taut. the button whirls round, making a pretty spinning figure. =stringing buttons= (_buttons_, _waxed thread_) if baby is so old that he is not tempted to swallow a pretty button, give him a strong thread waxed at the end to make it stiff, and let him make a chain of buttons. they may be strung according to size or color or shape, giving practice in counting, in arrangement, and in choice. =buttons as counters= (_buttons_) save disused buttons of the same kind and let the child classify into two or more sets to be used as counters in games like checkers or go-bang. see page . =button-mold wheels= (_molds_, _brush_, _water-color paints_) give the child four wooden button-molds of the same size and let him paint spokes upon them so that they will be ready any time to use as wheels for a toy wagon. call him a little wheelwright. =button-mold tops= (_molds_, _match or toothpick_, _gilding or paint_) paint or gild a button-mold and then stick through the hole a toothpick or burnt match whittled to right size and show the child how to spin it. =button-mold counters= (see page ) spools =toy furniture= (see page ) =toy tree boxes= (_spools_, _green paint_, _matches_, _green paper_, _scissors_, _paste_) let the child paint an empty spool green, to be used as a tree box. insert a burnt match to which has been pasted some green paper, previously fringed, to represent foliage. the child can make a row of such trees as a little boulevard up which he can draw an empty match box for a carriage. =spool tower target= (_a number of spools_, _ball_) pile a number of spools one on top of another and let the child try to knock them down with his ball. =toy road roller= (_spool_, _cord_, _toy horse_) tie a cord through a spool and hitch it as a road roller to the noah's ark horse. =pulley elevator= (_narrow cardboard box, such as a corset box or shorter one_, _spool_, _cord_, _another small box, either saved or made, narrow enough to fit inside the larger one_, _skewer_) stand the large box on its narrow end and near the top punch a hole on each side so that the holes are opposite to each other. take a spool and run through it an axle made of a slender piece of wood like a skewer. then put the ends of the axle in the holes in the box. this makes the pulley. use the smaller box as an elevator. tie a string to this little box in such a way that you can hold it up evenly. to do this you must punch a hole in each of the opposite sides. then tie one end of a longer string to the middle of the first named, and put the other end over the pulley. revolve the spool by pulling one end of the string and the box will be raised. =matching colors= (_spools of silk or cotton of various colors_, _silk and cotton fabrics of different colors_) have a color game, asking the child to try to match the colors on the spools with those in the fabrics. needles =breastpins= (_broken needles_, _sealing wax_, _candle_) take a large broken needle, such that it is intact except for the eye. show the child how to make a pretty pin for dolly by melting the wax a little in the candle flame, inserting the head of the needle, and molding into shape the bit of wax that adheres. =threading needles= (_needles_, _thread_) if eager to do something, give the child a number of needles with thread of white and black, and let him thread them and put them into a cushion so that they will be all ready for your use some morning when you are in a hurry to sew on a button or take a stitch in tommy's little shirt. miscellaneous =thimble biscuits= (see page ) =drawing scissors= (_scissors_, _paper_, _pencil_) give the child scissors and paper and let him place the scissors on the paper and draw the outline around them. then tell him to cut out this outline. make several such and play at keeping cutlery store. draw scissors open at different angles and tell names of angles; right, acute, obtuse. =guessing distances= (_ruler or tape measure_) let the children guess the height and length of various objects in the room. verify by measuring with the tape-measure. tell them of oliver wendell holmes, the great poet, who, whenever he drove into the country, carried a tape-measure with which to determine the girth of any large tree he saw. let children measure the size of the panes of glass, window-frames, etc.; have them tell how many feet it would take to carpet the floor. tell them to put father's hat on the floor, near the wall, and guess its height. such little exercises develop the powers of accurate observation in a way that may prove very helpful in an emergency. chapter v the paint box or expression with pencil or brush let the child early be given charcoal or colored chalks, and later the three pigments--red, blue and yellow--wherewith to express his ideas. allow him some choice in the medium he uses--as pencil, charcoal or brush--as one may be best suited to his purpose one time, and another one at another time. encourage the child to tell a story by painting or drawing. the earliest graphic method by which man conveyed messages to one at a distance was through picture-writing. learning to observe =painting from the real object= (_paints_, _chalk or charcoal_) place before the child an apple, banana or flower of simple form and let him copy directly from the object without previous drawing. encourage his efforts, however crude the results at first. it is more educative to draw from the real object than from a copy. give him at first three colors only, in paints, till he learns how to get other colors by mixing these. for this purpose point out beautiful sunsets and cloud effects in nature. =life stages of seedling= (_paper_, _paints_, _seedling_) place before the child a bean or pea. give him an oblong of paper × inches. fold it into four parts. in the first let him draw or paint the seed as he sees it. then let him plant the seed. in a day or so let him paint a picture of the seedling, after having grown so as to show the development of the seed leaves. draw two other pictures to show later stages of growth. this gives a picture history of the little plant and while so occupied the child is learning to observe and note that which he sees. acquiring skill =calendars= (_water-colors_, _brush_, _paper_, _calendar pad_) draw circles, squares, etc., and let the child fill in the outlines with color. a tiny calendar may be pasted in the center and ribbons put through wherewith to hang it up. in filling in these figures show the child how to hold the brush lightly so as to secure freedom of stroke. let him make long strokes beginning at the top of the paper and moving from side to side slowly downward, or rather as rapidly as is consistent with neatness. have enough water on the brush so that the color will not dry from one long stroke before you are able to go back and carry it on to the next stroke. practice making a clean, smooth surface. =nature pictures= let the child fill one sheet thus with blue, a picture of the sky. another sheet may be covered with green, a meadow. still another sheet may have the upper part blue and the lower green. experiments with color =prism= (_secure glass prism from kindergarten store or from some candelabra you may have at home_) place in sunlight and let child observe colors and the order in which they appear; always in the same order--the cold colors at one end, the warm ones at the other. let the little child try to catch and hold the lovely "light-bird." =pigments= (_water-color paints_, _glasses of water_) dissolve a little red, yellow and blue paint in three separate glasses. then, by mingling these--the primary colors--show how the secondary colors--orange, green and violet--may be obtained. =transparent papers= get at a kindergarten store the transparent papers and isinglass used in color work. by overlapping one upon another different hues may be obtained. this may be done also, though less effectively, with colored tissue papers; but these are not so pure in tone. =color-top= color tops may be procured at kindergarten stores. with the top come paper circles, of standard colors, with their tints and shades, giving a great variety. these are so slit that by placing two or more on the top according to directions and revolving the top, any tint or hue may be mathematically produced. if the child has made his own button-mold top, let him cut circles of white paper and slip them over the axis of the top. make a dab of color here or there on the paper with paint or chalk. whirl around and observe the effect. this will lead up to a better understanding of the above-mentioned color-top which is manufactured by the milton bradley co. applied art =toy wagons and houses= if the child has made wagons or houses of wood or cardboard, let him paint them in broad, free strokes. it is desirable that the little child be given work which involves the free movement of the larger muscles which such work demands. this may not appeal to one as belonging under the head of art, but we learn from mr. pennell that in sicily the wagons of the peasants are beautifully decorated with landscapes and other pictures, and that the artists are particular to make their names conspicuous. in any case a certain artistic feeling is required in choosing the colors and rightly applying them even in house-painting and wagon decoration. and meanwhile the child is learning how to wield his instruments. =place cards= take a clover leaf and practice painting from it until able to make a copy good enough to paint upon a place card for the table. if the drawing be correct, just a flat wash of color will do for the painting at first. an autumn leaf will do for a thanksgiving card. see festival occasions for other ideas. =tops= if a button-mold top has been made, it may be painted in concentric rings or the entire surface may be neatly colored. =match-safe= this has been described upon page . =designs for rugs= (_paper, brown or white_, _paints or chalk_) let child draw or paint design for toy rug he is making for doll-house. he may make an oblong of one color, and at each end draw lines across, which are to be woven in another color. there may be one line at each end, or two, or three, etc. the arrangement of these lines and their distance apart allow much scope for taste and judgment. =designs for wall-papers, oilcloths, etc.= (_parquetry papers_, _paste_, _etc._) . have child observe oilcloth designs and then with kindergarten parquetry papers try to make similar ones for doll-house. . having made pasted designs, let him copy same in water-colors. =design for stained glass window= (_transparent paper_, _scissors_, _white paper_, _paste_) cut a circle out of the white paper. fold it once, which gives a half-circle; fold again, which gives a quarter-circle. holding it folded, cut several ellipses, triangles, etc., into the folded edges. open out and you have framework of a rose-window. on the back of this paste a piece of transparent paper (see page ), red or green or yellow, and let the light shine through. hang in window for transparency. suitable for easter gift. vary by cutting like cathedral windows. (see illustrations in dictionary under "tracery.") picture-story =chased by a goose= (_pencil_, _paper_) once some boys lived in a house (make a dot) surrounded by a strong fence (draw circle round the dot). a short distance off was a large pond (an oval, a little below and to the right of the circle). one day the boys ran down to the pond (draw curved line from house to pond) and began to splash in the water and to throw it at each other (a number of oblique lines from right hand end of pond). some distance off lived some indians in two wigwams (two oblique lines meeting at the top and next to them a similar pair, like two tents, just below the pond). when the indians saw the boys throwing the water out they began to chase the boys, running up a zigzag path (from each tent draw an oblique line to the right for a short distance and then turn to the left till it meets the pond). the boys ran as fast as they could up a winding path parallel to the one they ran down (draw curving line parallel to first one), and then ran to the left partly around the fence surrounding the house. they had to run around the barn, too (an oblique line to the left and then another to the right till it meets the circle again), and when they looked behind them they found they had been chased by a goose!!! [illustration: chased by a goose] a little practice will make this easy for the story teller. the original dot and circle form the head and eye of the goose. the curving path is the neck. the water splashing out makes the tail feathers. the wigwams and the zigzag path form the legs and feet, and the path around the barn makes the bill. chapter vi dolls and doll-houses what little girl does not love a doll? the more variety in their size and style the better pleased is she. below are a number of suggestions for simple home-made dollies that may be prepared as a birthday or other surprise by older brothers or sisters. a few dolls = .= =clay-pipe doll= ink in the eyes, nose and mouth on the back of the bowl of a pipe; dress in calico gown and apron, and put on a sunbonnet to conceal the top of the pipe. = .= =clothespin doll= ink features upon the head of the clothespin and clothe as either boy or girl. = .= =wishbone doll= (_wishbone_, _sealing-wax_, _material for trousers_) clothe the two limbs in trousers and ink in the features upon the flat joining bone. feet may be made of sealing wax melted, pressed into shape and attached while still warm. = .= =peanut doll= (_peanuts_, _sewing-silk_, _glue_, _thread and needle_, _silk for dress_) make into chinese doll. take one peanut and ink in the features, making the eyes slanting. glue on a queue of braided silk. string together several peanuts to make the body. to the upper one add on each side one or two as arms and string several together to make legs. dress in wide-sleeved jacket and wide-legged trousers of oriental design. = .= =yarn doll= (_skein of white cotton yarn_) cut the skein into lengths of inches. double the skein over in the middle and tie a string tight around about two inches from the top, forming a neck and so making the head. tie another string further down for a waist line, but leave out a few threads on each side, of which to make two arms. tie these near the ends to indicate wrists. before tying the wrists cut the threads to right lengths for arms. the features may be put in with ink. = .= =cork doll= (_ or more corks saved from olive bottles, etc._, _smooth wire or hairpins--three in number_) string several corks upon the wire or hairpin for head and body. through the second cork from the top run a hairpin sideways for arms, and fasten two corks upon each projecting end, cutting off any of the wire that may extend beyond the cork. through the lower cork of the body run another hairpin and fasten two corks upon it for legs. turn the end corks sideways to suggest feet. dress the doll as desired. = .= =paper doll= (_fashion papers and catalogues_, _scissors_, _paint_, _paste_) most little girls find great pleasure in making their own paper dollies and the garments therefor. fashion papers and catalogues afford many dolls for cutting out, and tissue paper, crinkled paper, the lace paper found in candy boxes, etc., form the raw material for beautiful parisian gowns. dolls may of course be cut out of white paper and beautiful countenances painted upon them, or holes may be cut in the head for eyes, nose and mouth. = .= =rag doll= (_white cotton cloth_, _cotton batting_, _paints_, _scissors_, _needle_, _thread_, _water-color paints or blueing and red ink_, _raveled rope_, _etc._) cut a large newspaper pattern of a doll. then double the cloth, pin the pattern upon it and cut the two sides for the doll. run neatly around with close stitches, beginning at the neck, and when nearly finished turn inside out, stuff with the cotton batting, and sew up the head. paint in the features or use blueing for eyes and red ink for mouth and cheeks. ravelings of rope will make silky hair, and fingers may be indicated by stitches. some doll-houses = .= =cigar-box house= (_small cigar-box_, _paste_, _scissors_, _pictures_, _etc._) a cigar-box, small as it is, will give great delight to a child who is aided in furnishing a little room. stand the box up on the long side. paper with wall paper of a small design. then furnish with things made by the child himself; pictures cut from catalogues, and other accessories as described below. = .= =pasteboard-box house= (_four pasteboard boxes_, _glue_, _paint_) select four strong pasteboard boxes of uniform size. boxes such as the "martha washington candles" are packed in will do. they measure × inches. lay aside the covers and remove any paper which may be attached to the inside of the box. spread a thick paste of spaulding's glue or furniture glue over the surface of one side of a box. fit one side of a second to this glued surface and put aside to dry. the third and fourth boxes are treated in the same manner. when securely glued in pairs place the boxes with open sides facing you. cover upper outside surface of one pair of boxes with a thick coating of glue and set the second pair on top of these in the same position. now, one has a pasteboard house of four rooms--two upstairs and two downstairs. when securely fastened together cut in the partition separating the two upper rooms a door four inches high and three wide. two windows measuring × inches, two inches from floor, may be cut in the back of the house. the same treatment may be given the rooms downstairs. one may arrange a kitchen and dining-room downstairs and a parlor and bedroom upstairs. oil paints, such as are used in painting furniture, which come already mixed in small cans, may be used for painting the exterior of the house. in using this paint it is well to remember always to put sufficient paint on the brush to cover the entire surface of the wall of the house, from edge to edge, without lifting the brush. a strict observance of this rule insures a neatly painted surface. if desired, one may use yellow, green, or any light color for the interior. remnants of cartridge paper or paper decorated in small designs can often be obtained of paper-hangers for a small sum. it may be fastened to the floor to serve as a large rug. = .= =soap-box house= (_three wooden soap-boxes_, _nails_, _saw_, _paint_) take three soap-boxes, wooden. remove the covers from two and place one upon the other to make a two-story house. put in partitions thus: take a thin piece of board (from a smaller box), saw to needed height and depth and nail it in place by driving nails from above, below or the side, as the case may require. a stiff piece of cardboard (taken from a large box) may be made to serve as partition. if cut to the right size the pressure from top and bottom will hold in place. by taking _two small_ boxes for the upper floor instead of one large one the space which would be naturally left between can be made into a hallway. stairs may then be made of stiff cardboard, folded into steps, with a strip of obliquely-cut paper pasted along the edges of the steps to keep them in place. if windows and doorways are desired they must be cut or sawed in after being drawn where desired in pencil. the third box is for the gable roof. it is to be placed on top of the upper floor so that its sides slant for the roof. put in place and then mark off all that needs to be sawed away. when ready to be fixed permanently put in place and nail through. the furnishing of the little house gives much scope for ingenuity and invention as well as for the exercise of good sense and good taste. the exterior of the house can be painted with house paint, and this gives occasion for the broad use of the larger muscles, and physiologists tell us that the little child should exercise the larger muscles and nerves while the finer ones are still undeveloped. =tiling= (_corrugated packing cardboard_, _tacks_, _hammer_) the roof may be given a tiled effect by covering with corrugated packing cardboard saved from packages. tack this on. =papering= . paper with wall-paper. scraps of it may be saved when the home is being papered. . oil-cloth effects may be obtained by pasting on floors or walls designs made with the kindergarten parquetry papers. (see page .) . friezes may be made in the same way by using circles and squares in rows, alternately or successively. doll furniture = .= =cork.= (see page .) = .= =block= (_blocks of wood or kindergarten blocks, cubes and oblongs_) glue these blocks together, three cubes making a little chair, and cubes and oblongs making a bed or sofa. get the carpenter to saw a number of blocks of different shapes and sizes and let the child use his invention in putting them together. the furniture may be painted or gilded. = .= =paper or cardboard= take a piece of paper × inches. fold crosswise. make a dot / inch from the folded edge and / inch from right hand edge. make dot / inch from fold and / inch from left hand edge. from open edges opposite fold make two parallel cuts to these dots. these cuts make the four legs. when opened out a table is seen with two extensions for drop-leaf. cut one of these extensions off and a chair is made. if the original paper is longer and wider it can be made into a bed, what were the leaves of the table being bent up into the head and foot of the bed. an ingenious child can vary and elaborate this furniture _ad infinitum_. the backs can be cut into fancy form and arms given to chairs and sofa. use one of these paper chairs for a model, place on cardboard and draw around the outline and so obtain a stiffer bit of furniture. rockers can be drawn, added to the feet, and cut out, thus making a rocking chair. special articles of furniture =pictures and clocks= (_trade journals_, _scissors_) cut from trade journals and attach to walls. =lamp= (_twist spool_, _toothpick_, _half egg-shell_, _wax_) paste a bit of paper on top and bottom of twist spool. through this stick a toothpick, which the paper should hold firmly. upon the top of the toothpick fasten a half egg-shell for a globe with bit of wax or glue. =stove= (_cardboard_, _black ink or paint_) make oblong box of cardboard. turn upside down and cut openings for top of stove. make a small hole in the back of the stove and insert in it a piece of paper rolled into a stove-pipe and pasted. cut openings in front for the grate and ovens, leaving a door for the latter. ink or paint black. =windows= (_thin white paper_, _oil_, _glue_) brush a piece of white paper over with ordinary machine oil, or olive oil, or dip it in the oil and when dry glue in for windows, telling the children that not very long ago that was the only way in which light was admitted to many houses before glass became so common. isinglass may also be put in for windows. =doll's bedstead= (_cigar-box_, _glue_, _gilt-headed tacks_) saw the _cover_ of box into two pieces, one for the head and one for the foot. fasten in place to the box with the decorative tacks. legs may be attached if desired. =curtains= (_cheesecloth or lace_, _needle_, _thread_) cut small squares of cheesecloth and let the child hem and put in windows for curtains. do not insist on very fine sewing for beginners. curtains may be edged with lace, or the entire curtain may be made of lace, tacked or glued to inside of window. =telephone= (_two spools_, _nail_, _tin mucilage top_, _string_, _small flat block_) take a flat piece of wood about two inches square. glue to it the flat end of small spool. that is the 'phone. another spool is the receiver hanging, when not in use, upon a nail driven into the wood. the mucilage top has the slot into which to drop the imaginary nickel. miscellaneous =grocery store= (_wooden soap-box_, _small cardboard box_, _scales_, _toy barrels_, _tiny pill boxes_, _sand_, _pebbles_, _etc._) a small wooden box makes the store. a smaller cardboard box turned upside down will make the counter, or small pieces of wood can be nailed together by the little amateur carpenter. buy toy scales or make some as described below. small barrels can be obtained at toy store or little bottles and boxes can be filled with small quantities of tea and sugar, with tiny bags of pebbles for potatoes, apples, etc. cranberries make acceptable play apples. corn and nuts also will find places. tacks can be hammered in on which to hang tiny brooms, and by hammering in two long nails and laying a narrow board upon them a shelf can be made for the canned vegetables. let the children make their own brown paper bags, looking at a real one for a model. =scales= (_two small square cardboard boxes, made or bought_, _twine_, _skewer or other slender stick of wood or metal_) in each of the four sides of a box make a small hole near the top. take two pieces of twine each four times the width of the box. tie one of these through two opposite holes of the box and the other piece through the two other holes, being sure that the strings when tied are of equal length. these two strings cross each other. in the middle, exactly where they cross, tie one end of a string three inches long. raise the box by this string and it should hang exactly true. arrange the other box in the same way. now take the skewer and exactly in the _middle_ tie a string of three inches. to the ends of the stick tie the ends of the twine already tied to the boxes. raise the skewer by this string and the boxes should hang evenly, like scales. if they do not, slide one or the other back and forth until they do balance. use in the toy grocery store. playing store is always a fine opportunity for indicating lessons of honesty in business. train the child to give fair weight and measure, even in play. =merry-go-round for dolls= (_cardboard_, _large ribbon spool_, _stiff paper or kindergarten folding paper_, _slender pencil_, _tiny flag_) cut two circles of cardboard, one five inches in diameter; the other, ten to twelve. using the smaller one as a base, stand on it a large ribbon spool (spool around which baby ribbon comes). glue the large circle to the other end of the spool, parallel to the other lower circle. make a hole in each circle. run a slender pencil through the upper cardboard, then through the spool, and then through the lower circle, making an axis round which the spool may revolve, carrying with it the upper circle. on the upper circle paste alternately animals cut from paper or cardboard, and benches also cut from cardboard. elegance may be added by gilding the spool and letting a tiny flag float from the point of the pencil. cut out paper dolls for a ride. =dolls' park= (_starch-box_, _earth_, _moss_, _twigs_, _tiny mirror_, _etc._) fill the box with earth and sand for a foundation, and then with moss, twigs, elder-berry sprigs, etc., fill in the fairy-like details. a toy swan or boat adds to the reality. =rugs for doll-house= . make the loom by taking a slate and knocking out the slate so as to leave the frame intact. hammer a row of small nails half an inch apart along the two narrow sides. then make the warp by stringing strong cord back and forth across the nails. tie first around one corner nail; carry _to_ and _around_ the two nails opposite, then back and around the next two, and so back and forth till it is all strung. the rows of cord should be parallel. . instead of a slate, looms of various sizes may be roughly made of four narrow pieces of wood measured, sawed, and nailed together at the corners. a curtain slat could be so used, or wooden boxes will furnish raw material for such. a loom × inches is a good size for a beginner. for woof, use coarse worsted or ribbon to begin with, or colored cheesecloth torn into narrow strips. use the fingers at first, later a bodkin, weaving under one cord of the warp and over one, back and forth, till a tiny rug is made. fasten ends by weaving in and out a short distance into body of rug. at first make rug all of one color, or a rag-carpet effect can be obtained by tying into a long string worsteds of various colors. if a plain color is used a border can be made by running in a strand or so of a different color. let the child employ his artistic and creative abilities in making designs for the rug with paints or crayons. draw an oblong of one color with stripes across the ends, one, two or three in number, at different distances apart. variety can be secured by taking up two threads at a time or running under _one_ and over _two_, etc. warn the child not to draw the threads too closely or the rug will have the shape of an hour-glass when finished. a washcloth can be made thus by weaving it of narrow pieces of cheesecloth. take the rug or cloth off the loom by raising carefully over the nails. . another simple kind of loom is made by taking a piece of cardboard measuring × inches. draw a row of eight dots half an inch apart. opposite these, and six inches away, draw another row. with strong cord sew through these a set of straight stitches, six inches long and half an inch apart. this makes the warp. run the worsted woof under and over these cords as in any weaving, and tear the cardboard away when finished. chapter vii plays and games in playing games children learn lessons of fair play, of mutual forbearance and patience, and of letting a playfellow "have a chance," which they learn in no other way. apart from the important bodily exercise and development gained in the active physical games, the demand upon mental and moral qualities is of immeasurable value. a child should never be permitted to cheat at a game, even "in fun." a game loses significance as a game when one person does not "play fair." the child to whom even the thought of so doing is impossible begins the race of life with an immense advantage, for we believe that the foundation for all real life is _character_. we give a few games which have been tried with success either in the home, the kindergarten, or the playground. some of these plays require materials; others do not. in some cases instructions are given for making the required materials. tag games =circle tag= one person stands in the center of a ring of children and each one in the ring holds out his right hand. the one in the middle tags one of the hands and the owner immediately gives chase till he catches the pursued. vary by having both tagged and tagger skip, hop, etc., instead of run. =racing tag= players form circle. one goes outside the ring and runs or walks around, suddenly quietly touching another player, who immediately races with him, going around the ring in opposite direction. vary by having contestants bow three times as they pass each other. =wood, iron or paper tag= one child chases another who touches for goal anything made of wood, or iron, or paper, etc., as has been decided upon beforehand. if the pursued is caught before he succeeds in touching such object, he becomes "it." the goal may be a wooden stick or tree, or an iron rake, or a paper book, etc. =japanese tag= form a long line of children, one following closely behind another in a march or run. one child outside the line is "it." he tries to tag some one in the line. the leader endeavors to prevent this by twisting his file rapidly in and out in a curving line, and, by so throwing out his arms, as to protect the threatened one, as the line twists and turns with him. if one is tagged, the leader becomes "it." the leader and his train of children must of course be alert in mind and active in body. =cross-tag= of a group of children the one who is "it" chases any one he chooses to begin with, but if another child runs in between the chased and the chaser, the chaser must follow the one who has thus run in between. if he shows signs of fatigue a third child may run across between the two, etc., he then being chased until the tagger succeeds in catching some one, who in turn becomes "it." races allied to the tag games are the racing games, of which we give only two. =potato race= (_twelve potatoes_, _two tablespoons_) place six potatoes in a row about three feet apart. place six others in a parallel row some distance away. give two players each a spoon, and at a signal they start to race. each player runs up his row, picking up the potatoes, one by one, carrying each in turn to a given point, then coming back for another potato, till all are thus carried. the left hand must not assist. the one who first gets his potatoes safely to the spot decided upon wins. =clothespin race= (_handful of clothespins_) arrange the children in two rows, equal in number. give the first child a handful of clothespins, laid straight. at a signal he passes them down the line. if one is dropped it must be picked up by the one dropping it and put as before with the others and then passed on. reaching the end of the line, they are at once passed back again to the starting point. the side wins which first get back all the pins. aiming games with bean-bags =kinds of bags= ( . _ticking or strong calico_, _strong thread_, _needle_, _baking-beans_. . _felt_, _sewing silk_) . make a strong bag of bright colored material, × inches in size. fill with the ordinary baking-beans and overhand the top. . take a piece of felt or any pretty strong material which will bear the wear and tear of the game. cut into two circles or inches in diameter. sew together on the wrong side, with a seam of one fourth inch. then cut in the center a small circle half an inch in diameter. turn the odd-shaped bag inside out, fill with beans and overhand the small circular opening with close stitches of silk. these bags can be more easily caught than balls by little hands. =kinds of games= children usually hand down familiar games from one generation to another. here are a few: . children stand in a circle with one in the center who throws the bag to each in turn all around the ring, or else tries to catch some one napping by throwing it unexpectedly. . vary by having children stand in a row and the leader throws to each in turn. or children stand in opposite rows and every one in one line has a bag which all throw in unison to the child opposite. these in turn throw back in perfect rythm. . vary again by tossing into the air in unison. the accompaniment of music is always a thing to be desired in such rythmic games. . one child stands in center of ring and tries to catch the bag as it is tossed across to some one on the other side of the ring. aiming games with balls the games just described may be played with balls as well as with bean-bags, and thus require more co-ordination on the part of the child's muscles. we give a few other games in addition. =counting-ball= let one child bounce the ball, striking it from above with the palm of his hand and counting one, two, etc., until he fails to hit it, when another child takes a turn. =guess-ball= a row of players number off from one end , , , , etc. the last number steps in front of the row a distance such as may be needed to secure certainty of aim and touch on the part of those who throw the ball. the player in front stands with his back to the others. those in the row now begin to pass the ball sideways from one to the other. the player in front having counted a given number, the one who happens to hold the ball at the time must at once throw it at the player in front. if struck, the latter turns quickly and tries to judge from the attitudes of the various players which one threw the ball. if he is right, places are exchanged. if he guesses wrong, the game continues as before. =cup and ball= (_cardboard_, _worsted_, _funnel_) make the ball by cutting from cardboard two circles about two inches in diameter. inside the large circles draw smaller ones about one-half inch in diameter. cut the smaller circles entirely out, thus leaving a hole in the middle of each large circle. keep these two large circles together. now, with a needle, wind worsted round and round through the opening in the two circles until it is completely filled, so that the needle cannot be pushed through. hold in the left hand, and with sharp pointed scissors cut the worsted at the edge of the circles, spread the circles a little apart, and tie a strong thread firmly around the worsted between the two cardboard circles. then tear the cardboard circles away and a pretty ball remains. tie this ball, with a string twelve inches long, to a kitchen funnel, and let the child try to catch the ball in the funnel. aiming games--miscellaneous =ring-toss= (_small wooden box_, _broom-handle or dowel_, _nail or glue_, _embroidery rings or hoops of small keg_) saw a foot from a broom-handle or dowel (a child's broom will best serve the purpose). glue or nail this to a box. let the child practice tossing over this post rings taken from a small keg; or embroidery rings may be used. these may be wound around with bright colored strips of lining or with ribbon. the rings should be graduated in size. =grace-hoops= (_basket reeds_, _raffia_) make a wand of three or four basket reeds cut into two foot lengths. wind these more or less loosely with string, just so as to hold them together. then wind around and around closely and smoothly with a strand of raffia so as to bind firmly together. if held smoothly, several strands of raffia may be used at one time. if reeds are not to be had lilac branches may be used instead. the result should be a wand firm and stiff. make the hoops by soaking the reeds first in water for an hour to make flexible. they should be cut into lengths of about - / feet. curve several into a hoop and tie. then wind smoothly and firmly with the raffia. the ends of the latter may be disposed of by threading upon a large needle and running it a short distance in and out of the part already wound. two wands and one hoop are required for each player. one tosses a ring from her two wands to her opponent, who must catch it upon her own wands. this once popular game cultivates both alertness and grace. in the kindergarten the children use wand and ring in playing "knights." one child holds the ring while the little knight gallops around the circle on an imaginary steed and tries to capture the ring on his lance (wand), as at an old-time tournament. =croquet with peas= (_peas_, _hairpins or double-headed tacks_, _nail or match_, _toothpick_, _cork_, _cover of starch-box_) bend hairpins into shape or use double-headed tacks as wickets. insert into the cover of a wooden starch-box for ground. for a stake use a nail or a painted match-stick. sharpen this to a point and insert it in a hole previously made by hammering in a nail. make mallets by inserting matches or toothpicks into heads made of small pieces of cork. use peas for balls. put the whole outfit in a box and give to little sister for her doll's birthday. =egg-shell game= (_egg-shell_, _long table_, _four tumblers_) blow an egg-shell and paint with some college colors as a foot-ball. take four tumblers and place two at one end of a long table for goals and two at the opposite end for goals, the two which make a pair being four inches apart. divide the party into two competing groups. those on one side must try to blow the shell between the tumblers of their opponents. these must try to defend their end of the table and at the same time try to blow the shell between the tumblers of their opponents. this makes a merry game for young people. =cherry-stone game= (_save and dry a dozen or more cherry-stones_) scatter the stones lightly on the table. they will fall so that some lie closely together, others far apart. the first player selects any two stones and draws his finger between them so that he touches neither. if he succeeds thus far he must then try to snap one (with thumb and middle finger) so that it strikes the other. if this succeeds also the two stones belong to him and he has another turn, continuing until he either touches a stone in trying to draw a finger between two or fails to make one of the two hit the other. the second player will not fare so well, because the remaining pairs will lie closer together than those first chosen, so that great care will be needed in drawing the finger between two. sometimes it is necessary to use the little finger. at the end the player having most stones wins the game. the stones may be dyed or painted if desired. the game suggests tiddledy-winks and crokinole. =donkey game= (_picture of a donkey, minus a tail, and one dozen separate tails. these may be bought in large sheets for ten cents, but may be cut out of paper if drawn first by skilful hands_) pin the picture to the wall in some spot where it will not deface it. give each player a tail with a pin sticking through it. blindfold him. turn him around three times and send him in the direction of the picture to pin the tail on the donkey. the one who succeeds in fastening a tail nearest to the proper place wins the game. =blowing out the candle= (_candle in candlestick_) place a candle on the table. blindfold a player, turn him around three times about six feet from the candle. then let him try to find his way towards it and blow it out. he may have three trials. miscellaneous plays =the countess of the huggermuggers= (_two candles in candlesticks_) give two players each a candle. they take places about eight feet apart. then each takes a step forward at the same time and makes a solemn bow without smiling; then another step and bow; and then a third. then one says solemnly, "the countess of the huggermuggers is dead." the other one rejoins, "i am very sorry to hear it." the first one replies, "so am i." then each takes three steps backward, with a bow each time, and all without a smile. whoever smiles must give up his place to another player. =rope and sandbag= (_rope ten feet long, with handle at one end which may be made by knotting the rope, and a sandbag or other weight at the other. sandbag may be made of strong goods sewed into a bag and filled with sand. in a kindergarten a weight has been improvised out of a child's rubber shoe_) some one stands in the center of a circle of children and swings the rope so that the weight just grazes the ground. the children must be sufficiently attentive and agile to evade the rope by jumping over it as it passes them. do not begin until the rope has acquired momentum enough to move with a degree of regularity. =omnibus swing= (_strong rope or chain_, _staples_, _soapbox_, _wooden plank_, _nails_) if fortunate enough to have a barn or summer-house, or a playroom with a strong beam in the roof or ceiling, place a pair of strong staples in the beam (hammock hooks would serve the same purpose) a few inches apart. six feet from these place _another pair_ of staples in the beam. from each pair of staples or hooks suspend a loop of rope so that it comes about one foot from the floor. [illustration: omnibus swing.] take a plank about eight feet long and one foot wide and cut four notches in it, two on each side, about six inches from the ends. place the plank so that it hangs held by the two ropes, which slip into the notches in the plank, the notches keeping the ropes in place. upon this several children can swing back and forth lengthwise, and so play at rowing, riding, trolleying, etc., as imagination dictates. if a soapbox be nailed at one end the baby may be put into this for a safe ride. =anagrams= (_tinted bristol board_, _black ink or paint_, _heavy pen or brush_) cut the bristol board into -inch squares and let the child paint or draw upon these squares the letters of the alphabet, one letter to each square. there should be at least a dozen of each letter and many more a's, e's and s's, as these letters occur frequently in english words. two games may be played with these letters as follows: . give the child the four or five letters that compose a word and let him try to put them together in the right way as: _h-s-e-r-o_ (_horse_). . several players are needed for this game. the cards must be placed upside down in a box so that the letters are not seen. each player takes a letter in turn, the first time round, and places it in the centre of the table. at the second time round, each, as he takes a square from the box, tries to form a word with it, either by using a letter from the central pool or by taking away an opponent's word. if he takes from an opponent he must take an entire word. as he forms a word he places it before himself, the aim being to get five or ten words before any opponent does. if he can form no word he puts his letter in the pool. the number of words making the game must be agreed upon beforehand. for example: in the pool are placed in turn the letters _g, b, f, t_. player i, continuing, draws from the box the letter _a_ and with the letters in the pool can form _bat_, which he places in front of him, leaving _g_ and _f_ in the pool. player ii draws an _l_, and as he can form no word, he puts it in the pool. player iii draws an _e_ and takes away the _bat_ of no. i, turning it into _beat_. player ii draws an _o_, which with the _g_ from the pool, he turns into _go_. player i then draws again, and so the game continues until one player has, we will say, five words, the number agreed upon, and so wins. =weighing honey= one child crouches, clasping his hands beneath his knees tightly. two older persons then take the handles of the honey-jar (the child's arms) and swing him back and forth, counting one, two, three, etc., with each swing until the hands give way. the number of counts tells the number of pounds in the jar. suggestions for children's parties =peanut party= (_several quarts of peanuts, and a pretty little bag measuring × inches for each guest_) before the little guests arrive, hide the peanuts in corners, under cushions, and in all possible hiding-places, singly, or two or three together. at a signal all of the children begin to search for the peanuts. the one finding the most wins. give a reward of a peanut doll. (see page .) * * * * * in no such games of competition is it a good plan to have expensive prizes. that plan ministers to a weakness inherent perhaps in human nature, but one to be discouraged--the desire to win, not for the sake of success, but for the sake of the prize. the giving of a valuable prize engenders feelings of envy and caters too much to the gambling instinct. it tends to destroy the spirit of fun and play which is the real object of a social gathering. a part of such an entertainment would appropriately be the making of peanut taffy or of peanut animals. (see page .) =spider-web party= (_balls of pretty twine, one color for each guest_) take a ball of twine and to the end attach a card bearing the name of one guest. then unwind it, twisting it around different articles of furniture, chairs, table-legs, door-knob, chandelier, etc., till the thread is judged to be long enough. then cut, and to this end tie some trifling gift. arrange in this way one ball and gift for each child expected. when the time for playing the game arrives, give to each child the card bearing his name, to which twine is attached. at the signal for beginning, each one follows up his line, unwinding and disentangling it as he goes along, till the end of the cord bearing the gift is reached. as each little visitor receives something, there is no unwholesome spirit of rivalry. =thimble-biscuit party= (_dough_, _silver thimbles_) while making biscuits for supper give the little child a silver thimble to use as a biscuit cutter, first rolling the dough to a thickness one-third the height of the thimble. when he has made a good array put them into the oven. they will bake quickly and to the child will seem to surpass the best cake made. invite a group of little children to a thimble-biscuit party. a dough of flour, water or milk, a little salt and baking powder will be sufficient and the little workers will be very happy making the wee biscuits. only silver thimbles should be used. while the biscuits are baking a few games, notably "hide the thimble," will pass the time. served with a little jam or milk they will make a delicious repast, with dolls and teddy bears for company. =butterfly party= (_white paper_, _oil paints, in tubes_) uncovering the tube, make a dab of paint with it near middle of a sheet of paper. immediately beneath make a _long stroke_ of another color. now fold over lengthwise along the middle of the long line of paint. while folded press and smooth with finger over the first spot. this when opened will be the head of the butterfly. keep paper still folded, however, and press along the line of paint to make body and then make a side pressure to make the wings. open out, and there is the general suggestion of a beautiful butterfly, which, held up so that the light shines through, may be really very pretty. a little experiment will show how improvements can be made. any color may be used. invite your friends to an evening butterfly party and give a prize for the best one made; the prize may very suitably be something in butterfly form; a penwiper, or lamp-shade, or something similar. =autograph picture= (_ink_, _paper_, _coarse pen_) at the butterfly party, autograph portraits also may be made. with a coarse pen, filled with ink, each person writes his own name in turn. take the flowing autograph, fold it lengthwise through the middle and crease, making special pressure at the top and drawing out slightly at the side. open up and the result is a queer portrait of the owner of the autograph with suggestion of head and arms. enclose autograph on two sides by straight lines; when folded and then opened, the portrait will be framed. chapter viii festival occasions festivals have always held an important place in the life of home and community. the anniversary of the day of birth, or of marriage, the day of graduation, or of coming of age--what opportunities they offer for strengthening the ties of kinship, for creating hallowed associations that may often prove bulwarks of safety in later days of temptation and sorrow! christmas, easter, thanksgiving, are now national holidays with us, and our celebration of these beautiful festivals is one more link in the chain which binds us to all races and creeds; for the return of the sun at the winter solstice, the renewal of life in the spring, the ingathering of fruits in the autumn, have appealed to all peoples as fitting occasions for the expression of religious joy and for mutual congratulations upon dangers past and the results of work accomplished. in the joy of such occasions, we must not let them degenerate into the mere mercenary exchange of material gifts. christmas is preëminently the children's day, when we annually remind ourselves of the divinity inherent in all childhood, and desire to bring joy to all children and goodwill to all peoples. easter means most to the adult who has experienced sorrow and disappointment and has known something of the anguish and awe and deepening of life that comes with the message of death. the pleasure of the child in the hare and the easter egg must not be allowed altogether to overbalance the wondrous symbolism of the easter lily. the national holidays--washington's birthday, memorial day, independence day, etc.--take us outside the limits of the home and remind us that, as we thank the men and women of the past for the privileges of the present which we owe to their sacrifices and aspirations, so we should realize our obligations towards the future. in celebrating these different festivals, let the child bear his small part. we give a few ideas of things which he may do or make. it is these early impressions which are the lasting ones. the actual service demanded of the child counts much in the formation of character, though even more important is the spirit which radiates at such times from the parents and friends who celebrate or prepare to celebrate these recurrent holidays. it is the "spirit which giveth life," here, as everywhere. the suggestions will be given in the order in which the holidays come in the year. where an article is described in another part of the book, it will not be repeated, but the page number will be given for reference. new year's day =place cards at table= (_white card_, _pressed four-leaf clover, or paints_) . having found and pressed four-leaved clovers in the days of summer, paste one lightly to each place card as symbol of good-luck. . copy a clover-leaf with paints and write on card some appropriate quotation signifying good-will. =decorated note paper= (_writing paper_, _leaf_, _paste or paints_) paste a real clover leaf (or paint one) on the writing paper upon which you may be writing a new year's letter to your friend. =calendar= (_ oblong blotters, white or colored_, _ribbon to match, inch wide and about / yards long_, _tiny calendar pad_, _paste_) take the calendar pad apart and paste the leaf for each month upon one of the blotters. then tie the blotters together with the ribbon. this makes suitable new year's gift. (see also page .) =new year's bells= (_red cardboard_, _scissors_, _paste_, _ribbon_) cut out a bell and paste a calendar pad on it. or cut small bells and paste one leaf of calendar pad on each, stringing all together with ribbon. =good-luck pigs= with our german population the pig signifies "good-luck," and at new year's pigs, big and little, made of various materials, are quite in order. a favorite candy, made of sugar and bitter-almond, is in the shape of a pig, and is used to present to friends at this holiday time. many suggestions already given may be carried out with the pig idea in mind. =midnight watching= if friends stay up to watch the old year out, any of the above-named articles may be made by the children for souvenirs. a poem which may suitably be read at this time is tennyson's "ring out, wild bells;" also, longfellow's "the poet's calendar." a timely topic for discussion is the never-answered question: when does the new century begin--with january , , or ? timothy dwight, president of yale college, - , wrote some clever verses apropos of the subject when he helped usher in the th century. st. valentine's day save lace papers from candy and soap boxes and they will prove useful when st. valentine's day comes in making valentines. with these papers and scissors, paste, scrap pictures of flowers, doves, etc., the children will spend happy hours in making these dainty souvenirs. we give a few directions for making some such. =single hearts= (_red cardboard_, _lace paper_, _scrap pictures_, _scissors_, _paste_) cut a heart out of the cardboard and around the edge paste a border of lace paper, fulling slightly and attaching it to the under side of the heart. in the centre of the upper side of the heart paste a pretty scrap picture. this makes a simple but effective valentine. =chain of hearts= (_red cardboard_, _scissors_, _scrap pictures_, _paste_, _red ribbon_) cut several hearts out of the cardboard, and, after punching holes in the top and bottom of each one, string them together, pasting a scrap picture on each one if that added touch is desired. =double hearts= (_red cardboard_, _scissors_, _paste_, _strip of red paper_) cut two hearts of different sizes. then take a narrow strip of red paper measuring / × inch and fold it into thirds. while still folded attach one end of this paper to the _centre_ of the _upper side_ of the large heart and the other end to the _centre_ of the _lower side_ of the smaller heart. this unites the two, one resting on top of the other, the paper acting as a kind of spring to raise one above the other. instead of a small heart a scrap picture may be thus attached on the larger heart. in cutting out these hearts it may be necessary first to cut a pattern out of newspaper, making several trials before a satisfactory model is secured. =lacy valentine= (_gold or silver paper_, _white tissue paper_, _scrap pictures_, _paste_) cut from a sheet of gold or silver paper a piece measuring × inches. fold this once through the middle so as to make a book of - / × inches. cut a piece from the tissue paper of - / × inches. fold this two or three times and cut into it tiny perforations--oblongs, diamonds, circles, hearts, etc. then open out and observe the lacey effect. practice this until something pretty and dainty is secured. then upon the centre of the book paste a scrap picture and attach the tissue paper by its edges to the valentine in such a way that the picture shows a little between the perforations. a narrow strip of stiff paper folded in three, to give the effect of a spring as described above, may be used at each corner. inside of the booklet paste other pictures as fancy dictates. also write therein some appropriate lines. =spider-web design= (_gold or silver paper_, _bristol board_, _scrap picture_, _paste_, _scissors_) cut a circle of gold or silver paper, three or four inches in diameter. fold once, making a semi-circle; fold once more making a quarter-circle. beginning at the point of the folded paper, make a tiny cut from one edge _towards_ the other, but do not cut the point entirely off. turn the paper and make a second cut parallel to the first about / inch away, the cut being from the other edge of the paper. turn again and make a third cut. each time the cuts grow in length owing to the increasing width of the triangle or quarter-circle. continue thus until the circumference of the folded circle is reached. then open out and you have a silver spider-web effect. take a square or circle somewhat larger than the web, and in its centre paste a pretty bird, flower, or maiden. then paste the web upon this background, putting the paste along the edges of the web, but leaving the centre free, so that the child can raise it and peer through the slits at the picture beneath. let city children send to country cousins scrap pictures, colored papers, etc., and sample valentines, so that their friends may have the pleasure of making and giving. valentine dinner soup: put into the clear soup the noodle hearts, which may be purchased at a grocery store, or have a vegetable soup, slicing the vegetables and cutting them into little hearts with a knife. meat: make chicken or beef croquettes, molding them like hearts. vegetables: slice the boiled carrots and potatoes and cut into heart shapes. bread: cut into hearts. salad: upon green lettuce leaves place hearts cut from beets. dessert: ice cream may be obtained in the form of a cupid or something similar, and cake may be decorated with white icing having pink hearts outlined upon it. the peppermint candies in the shape of hearts, which have sentiments printed upon them, may be passed either at the beginning or the end of the meal. cut in half, placing the halves in separate dishes; then pass one dish to the girls and the other to the boys, and by matching halves partners may be found. let the children, however, remain unconscious of the distinction of sex as many years as possible. in making preparations for the dinner let the children help. =place cards for dinner= (_red paper_, _white cardboard_, _scissors_, _pencil_) cut a heart from the _red_ paper. from the _white_, cut an arrow, drawing it after a pattern found in some book. making two slits in the heart, run the arrow through it. on the reverse side of the heart write the name of the guest. =decorations for valentine dinner= (_red cardboard_, _red ribbon_) cut about two dozen hearts all of same size, or graduated in size. string these upon the red ribbon and suspend over the table. washington's birthday =luncheon card= (_ ._ _picture hatchet_, _cardboard_, _scissors_, _paints_; _ ._ _same_--_also white or reddish brown paper_) . find a picture of a hatchet and use it as a model from which to cut one about two inches long. paint this in colors resembling the real hatchet, and upon the reverse side write the name of the guest. . from a piece of white or reddish-brown paper cut a one-inch square. paint so as to resemble cherry wood. roll so that one edge overlaps the other a trifle, simulating the trunk of a tree. as they overlap cut a tiny slit through the two. cut out a tiny cardboard hatchet, paint as above, and insert in this slit so that it holds the two edges together. before fastening in this way, an appropriate quotation may be written inside, and the name of the guest on the outside. it should stand up if rightly made. =decorative cherries= (_paraffine_, _spool of wire, not too fine_, _green cloth or paper_, _carmine oil paint_, _brush_, _paste_) purchase at the grocer's cakes of paraffine such as is used for preserving purposes. heat a cake in a dish so that it is soft enough to model into balls the size of a cherry. while still pliable make a slight depression in its surface. having previously rolled the wire in the green tissue paper, and cut into inch strips for stems, insert this into the cherry at the depressed part of its surface. cut out cherry leaves of paper, or better dark green cloth, place a little paste on these leaves at the back and arrange a stem on each one. when the stem of the cherry is firmly fastened in the fruit, paint the surface with carmine oil paint. this gives a polished appearance to the surface like the natural cherry. the stems of the green leaves may be trimmed about the stems of the cherries in twos or threes or more, according to the number of cherries used. =paper chains= (_colored paper in sheets or cut into strips_, _paste_, _small brushes or sticks_) the making of paper chains, in contrasting or uniform colors, is a delightful pastime for children of all ages. very little children may easily learn to make one loop at a time, and, with assistance, are soon able to fasten several loops together. kindergarten supply stores furnish strips of colored paper already cut, and put up in packages. these strips measure inches in length. it is very easy, however, to cut strips from large sheets of paper, and it is an excellent lesson in accurate cutting for children over ten years of age. these paper strips may measure one or two inches in width and the entire length of the sheet. cut the long strips into short strips measuring four inches in length. holding the four inch strip in the left hand, put a very little paste on the under surface of one end of the strip. overlap the pasted end of the strip to its unpasted end, and hold firmly until fastened. you now have one paper loop. through this loop is placed another four inch strip--the paste is added in the same manner. now you have two loops. continue doing this until you have the chain the required length. these chains are very effective when used in decorating. for washington's birthday, red, white and blue paper would be used for the chains. =bonbonnieres= (_white tissue paper_, _red and blue aniline dyes_) very attractive bonbonnieres may be made by cutting oblong shaped sheets of white tissue paper, measuring inches in length and inches in width. fringe the shorter edges of the paper, making fringe inch deep. dissolve any good red and blue dyes in boiling water, and place in separate dishes. dip one fringed end of tissue paper into the red dye for one second, and dip the other fringed end into the blue dye. shake these ends gently in order to let the water drip from them. when they are dry, place a large sized candy in the centre of the paper, and gathering up the fringed ends, twist them close to the candy, thus forming a feathery effect in two colors. these are very pretty when arranged on the table either in quantity or singly. =tents= (_white shelf paper_, _paste_, _match stick_, _red, white and blue paper_) groups of white tents, made of white shelf paper, capped at the top with tiny american flags, may be placed at short distances from the centre piece of a luncheon or supper table with good effect. the large sheets of shelf paper may be bought at any grocer's. cut them into four-inch squares. place the paper before you on a flat surface, an edge nearest you. fold the front edge to the back edge of square; crease the paper at the fold, open the paper and fold the right edge to left edge of square; crease the fold again. open the paper and turn the square so that a corner points towards you. fold this front corner to the back corner, so that the two points exactly meet. crease on the fold, open the paper, and fold the left corner to the right corner of the square. crease on the fold. open the paper; before you you have a square of paper, with eight folds across its surface, a fold running front edge to back edge, from right edge to left edge, from right corner to left corner, from left corner to right corner. turn the square of paper over so that all the folds on the surface of the paper are on the upper side of the square. place the square with a corner toward you. you will now see eight folds running from the four edges and four corners to the centre of the square. crease with thumb and forefinger of right hand the fold running from lower right edge to centre of square. place this right hand fold of square forward so that it lies along the fold which extends from the corner directly in front of you to the centre of the square. follow the same directions in folding the crease that runs from the lower left edge to centre of square. these two folds touch now on the fold that runs from front corner to centre of square. you will see a small triangle extending below the two folds which thus meet in front of you. fold this small triangle back toward the centre, and underneath the two folds that meet in front of you. one half of your tent is folded. the same directions must be followed in folding the other side of the square. the two small triangles must be carefully folded so that the tent will stand evenly when finished. you will see when the front and back part of the tent is finished that you have the right and left corners to dispose of. fold these corners underneath the tent, so that when it is placed in an upright position it will stand firmly. to make the tent stand well, crease the edges that run from the four corners to top of tent, thus making an exact pyramid. the use of a little paste in securing the folds is of great assistance. to represent the tent pole, a wooden match, gilded, may be used. to this attach a tiny american flag made of pliable red, white and blue paper. =paper lanterns= (_scissors_, _red, white and blue paper_, _liquid gold paint_, _box of small candles_, _circular box covers_, _baby ribbon--red, white and blue_) lanterns made of red, white and blue paper, each of one color only, ornamented with gold paint and tied with the red, white and blue baby ribbon, are extremely pretty for supper decorations. when suspended from the chandelier above the centre of a supper table, a lighted candle in each little lantern, the effect is charming. in view of entertainments where decorations are called for, it would be well to lay aside all small circular box covers that find their way into the household. the small box covers that measure - / inches in diameter may be taken as a standard size. these box covers form the bottom of the lanterns. cut from the colored paper an oblong piece measuring inches in length and inches in width. lay the oblong piece of paper before you with its long edges running right and left. draw a pencil line the length of the paper / of an inch from the upper edge; / of an inch from its lower edge draw another line which will be parallel to the first. from the upper pencil line to the lower pencil line draw lines / inch apart. these upright lines will form narrow oblongs. use very sharp pointed scissors, and cut away each alternate oblong. paste the two short edges of the oblong paper together, one end overlapping the other. the body of the lantern is now finished. let a little wax drip from a candle on the inside of the circular box cover at its centre. when a little bed of soft wax is formed, place an unlighted candle on it in an upright position. place a thick coating of spaulding's glue on the inner surface of circular rim of the box cover, and carefully fit the body of the lantern into it. when the paper lantern is securely fastened, gild heavily the outside rim of the box cover and the upper and lower circular bands which form top and bottom borders of the lanterns. in the top circular band punch four holes equal distances apart, through which the ribbons are run. st. patrick's day--march th =place cards= (_white cards_, _water-color or oil paints_, _brush_) paint a picture of shamrock upon the card. it may be copied from some picture, if not from the real plant. if not possible to find a picture, our wild-wood-sorrel (_oxalis acetosella_) is supposed to be the same as the shamrock and may be used for model. some authorities believe the white clover to be the original shamrock. =flags= (_irish flag_, _green paint_, _gold paint_, _brush_, _scissors_, _slender sticks_) if one irish flag is bought the children may copy it, painting a number, one for each guest, or for decorating table. glue flags to sticks. =ribbon flags= (_green satin ribbon, one inch wide_, _wooden toothpick_) cut the ribbon into oblongs to make wee flags. glue to tiny flagsticks and put at places at dinner table. =shamrock plants= the real shamrock is now brought over and may be purchased in march. a little plant makes an appropriate souvenir. or several weeks before the day, children may plant shamrock seed in tiny pots for use on the th. =potato race= a potato race is an appropriate game for st. patrick's day. (see page .) give cork doll for prize to winner of race (page ), as souvenir from cork. =st. patrick's dinner= have as many green vegetables and side dishes as possible. spinach will color the soup. green vegetables and salads are easy to obtain and ice cream may be colored with pistache. irish flags may be suspended over the table. =dinner souvenir= (_blotting paper_, _souvenir postcards_, _green ribbon / inch wide_) give each guest a blotter made thus: buy souvenir postcards with pictures of killarney and other irish views. cut the blotting paper into sheets of same size as cards. place together. punch hole at one end and tie together with ribbon. easter =egg shell garden= (see page ) =sponge garden= (_small, clean sponge_, _birdseed_) a few days before easter, sprinkle the sponge with birdseed. keep damp and the seeds will sprout and cover the sponge with growing blades of green. =easter eggs= (_ ._ _diamond dyes_, _a dozen eggs_. _ ._ _small figured calico_, _lye_, _boiling water_) . boil the eggs hard and dye with the colors according to directions on package, which may be had at drugstore, price five cents. . wind strips of the bright calico around the eggs and boil in water strongly saturated with lye. the lye extracts the color, which will be found printed upon the eggs. =place cards for easter breakfast= (_ ._ _white paper_, _scissors_, _paints_. _ ._ _plain white cards_, _paints_) . if possible secure a real easter lily for a model. if this cannot be obtained, a picture of one will answer. from the paper cut, freehand, if possible, the shape of the lily and paint it lightly; just a little shading and the golden center. place the guest's name upon the reverse side. it may be necessary to draw the lily first before cutting, but the freehand cutting is a good exercise. . decorate a white card with the picture of a lily, or a tulip, using water-color paints. below the flower write an appropriate flower motto. =celluloid place cards= (_white celluloid_, _scissors_, _pencil_) get from a dictionary or natural history a good picture of a butterfly with open wings. draw a pattern from this and then outline a number of these on the celluloid and cut out. these dainty, spirit-like butterflies will make suitable place-cards, having the name of guest on the reverse side. cut easter lily of celluloid in same way. =easter chicken= (_yellow worsted_, _black beads_, _quill toothpick_, _cardboard_, _wooden toothpicks_, _or picture-wire_.) make a yellow ball as described on pages - for the body of the chicken. a smaller ball makes the head. sew on the beads for the bright black eyes; cut the quill into shape of a bill and sew into place. let wooden toothpicks form the legs; or, better still, take picture-wire made of several strands. wind some of this around the body, letting the ends of the wire extend about - / inches below the body; sew to the body to keep in place. then pick out the ends of the wire a little to suggest toes and wind the legs with worsted. sew chicken to a card. =easter card= (_parquetry circles used in kindergarten_, _paste_, _gray card_, _scissors_) the little child may make an easter card by pasting upon a neutral-tinted card pictures of tulips made of the kindergarten parquetry papers. cut in half either red or yellow circles. place so that the lower ends touch and the upper ones are a little apart, suggesting a tulip. a strip of green paper will represent the stem and an older child can cut leaves of the green paper and paste on. have a real tulip from which to copy. child may give this to father on easter morning. =toy screen= (see page ) make dainty screen as described, and paste on each panel a tiny _easter_ picture (perry pictures may be had by addressing firm in n. y. city). give to mother on easter morning. =church window transparency= (see page ) memorial day we give no special suggestions for the celebration of memorial or decoration day. the ideas given under the headings of the other patriotic holidays, as washington's birthday and fourth of july, may be used also for this holiday, but it is not a day for mere play. if the parents plan to go to the cemetery let the child accompany them and carry flowers, preferably those of his own raising or plucking. =reading= it would be well also on this day to read some great piece of patriotic literature, either prose or poetry, which will help the older children to realize the great debt which we owe to the preservers of our country, to whom we dedicate this day. lincoln's gettysburg address should be read. also lowell's "the present crisis." "bugle echoes," compiled by francis f. browne, contains poems of the civil war, both northern and southern. =badge= (_sheets of red, white, and blue paper_, _scissors_, _paste_) a simple badge may be made for the children to wear in this fashion: . cut a circle / inches in diameter out of the red paper. cut also from the red, white and blue sheets strips of × inches. paste the three strips together at the upper end like ribbons, letting them spread a little apart at the lower end. paste the circle at the upper end to finish off. . another style may be made by placing the three colors so that one lies directly above the other. in this case the blue is inches long, the white four inches, and the red three inches. fasten to dress or coat with a safety pin. independence day =firecrackers= (_red paper_, _hemp_ _string_, _paste_) get large sheets of red paper to be found at department stores or wholesale paper houses, measuring about inches in length and inches in width. from each one cut thirteen -inch strips, cutting the length of the sheet. fold each strip once across the width of the strip, and cut through the center at the fold. this gives twenty-six -inch strips of paper, the width of the small sized firecrackers. hold a strip of paper between the thumb and forefinger of the left hand. moisten the thumb of the right hand a very little, and roll the end of the strip towards the left, as one does in rolling a paper taper. keep the strip rolled tightly until the other end of the strip is reached. if the cracker seems too loosely rolled unroll it a short distance, and gently pull the strip into form again. place a little paste on the under side of the loose end of the strip, and press the pasted end firmly on the rolled surface of the cracker. hold this until it adheres to the surface of the cracker. cut the hemp string into three-inch pieces. dip one end of the string into the paste, then insert this pasted end into one end of the cracker at the little opening which is found at the very center. hold this firmly for a moment, or until the string is securely fastened. tie six or eight firecrackers into bunches with red, white and blue ribbons, and lay them over the white surface of the luncheon or supper table. =firecracker card= (see page ) =drums= (_small wooden boxes_, _liquid gold paint_, _spaulding's glue_, _red, white and blue baby ribbon_, _small sticks for drum sticks_) the market basket will, from time to time, furnish the housekeeper with small circular boxes labeled: electro-silicon silver polish. these wooden boxes, measuring inches in circumference and inches in height, make, when prettily ornamented, very attractive drums. remove the cover of box, and place on its inner rim a coating of spaulding's glue. place the cover on the box again, and put aside until it is fastened. place the box on a sheet of stiff white paper, and holding it firmly, draw a pencil line around its edge. now remove the box, and you will see that you have outlined a circle. using this circle as a model, draw a second circle. cut out these circles, following the pencil very accurately. these two circles form the two heads of the drum, and are to be pasted on the top and the bottom of the box. gild the circular surface of the box. cut strips of red or blue paper, measuring - / inches in length and - / inches in width. brush the under surface of these strips with paste, and place one strip at the top and one at the bottom of the drum, / of an inch above the rim of the drum. these strips answer to the wooden bands which hold the drum heads in place. red, white and blue baby ribbon may be carried from the upper to the lower edges of the drum if desired to represent the cords which hold the drum securely. little wooden sticks, gilded and tied at the side of the drum form the drumsticks. the smaller electro-silicon boxes, measuring - / inches in circumference and - / inches in height, may be used in the same way. =rosettes= (_red, white and blue tissue paper_, _a strong needle_, _white sewing silk_, _white library paste or well-made flour paste_) lay nine sheets of tissue paper one upon another, alternating the colors, red, white and blue. fold these sheets together very smoothly once, thus making smaller sheets if they were cut apart, but do not cut. lay a silver dollar or fifty-cent piece (depending upon the size required) at the upper left-hand corner of paper. draw a pencil line around the rim of the silver piece. move the piece of money to the right and draw another circle. continue this drawing circles until you have covered the surface of the paper. thread a needle with the sewing silk, knot the end of the thread and take several firm stitches through the center of each circle in order to hold the sheets of paper together. with sharp scissors cut out each paper circle, and fringe by cutting, but not too finely, from the edge to within / of an inch of the center of the circle. hold the knot on the under side of the circle between the thumb and forefinger of the left hand. slightly moisten the forefinger of the right hand and brush gently over the fringed surface toward the center of the rosette. at the back of each rosette put a bit of paste, then lay rosettes on strips of paper one inch in width. do not overlap the rosettes, but arrange to allow the edges to touch. these strips of rosettes may be used as festoons. as decorations for cakes or dishes of fruit they can be used most effectively. =shields for luncheon cards= (_cardboard_, _red and blue paper_, _baby ribbon--red, white and blue_, _gold paint_, _water-color paints--red and blue_) attractive luncheon or supper cards, suitable for patriotic occasions, may be made in the form of shields. turn to the fourth page of webster's unabridged dictionary, and find the shield used as the american coat-of-arms. this shield, enlarged to a size measuring - / inches in length and - / inches in width across the upper part, forms an excellent model. if one does not draw habitually, use tracing paper when tracing the pattern. if one uses watercolor paints successfully, paint the deep blue band across the upper part of the shield, and the twelve red stripes running from the band to the lower edge of the shield. for those who do not paint, dark red and blue paper may be substituted very successfully. a touch of gold paint on the edge of the shield adds greatly to the effect. write each guest's name on a card measuring - / inches in length and - / inches in width. attach a card by means of red, white and blue ribbon to upper corner of each shield. =rockets= (_red, white and blue paper_, _paste_, _gold paint_, _slender wooden sticks_) rockets are made in the same manner as firecrackers, excepting that the paper strips are cut wider, viz.: or inches in width, and more strips are required to give the proper size. this may be left to the maker's discretion. when the rockets are rolled and pasted after the manner of the firecrackers, insert the sharp point of a pencil into the center of one end of each roll, and gently push out this center to the distance of two inches. this will give the pointed end of the rocket. these pointed ends may be gilded, as well as the slender sticks which are inserted at the other ends. labor day the words "parade" and "procession" are associated in the minds of most american children with long lines of soldiers, and the small boy will play for hours putting his tin soldiers in rank and file, or marching with his comrades, with pans for drums. in these later days, when the spirit of the peace congress is in the air, it is well that the children should become interested in struggles and battles of a different and higher order and in the parades in which long lines of honorable workers take part. in this country all self-respecting people are workers in one way or another, and though in the course of progress of coöperative movements and combinations, among many kinds of workers, there may have been much of injustice, such movements have also been accompanied by self-sacrifice, courage and generosity of a high order. in time the good will far out-weigh the evil. as labor day approaches, the children, especially if the father expects to take part, will be readily interested in the day and what it should mean--the solving of the great problem of the twentieth century. meanwhile let the children feel the beauty of walt whitman's lines: "ah little recks the laborer how near his work is holding him to god, the loving laborer through space and time." the labor day parade is a revival, or survival in modern guise, of the mediæval processions of the guilds. such a procession is charmingly represented in wagner's delightful opera, "die meistersinger," wherein, on a festival day, we see the bakers enter, bearing the insignia of their trade, enormous pretzels and other cakes. the cobblers march in with gigantic boots and slippers suspended from tall poles; the butchers carry hams and festoons of sausages, etc. the child may imitate such a parade in his play. in talking with the child, emphasize the obligation to do good, true work and to take pride in such. let fidelity and trustworthiness be his watchwords. =parade= (_poles or broom handles_, _wrapping paper or newspaper_, _scissors_, _tacks_, _rakes_, _spades_, _etc._, _flags and banners_) let the children cut from the paper large outlines of shoes, boots, hams, saws, try-squares, clocks, watches, enormous pens, knives, forks, etc., and fasten with pins or tacks to the poles. then march to the tune of some stirring air. some may be able to secure small garden rakes, spades and toy brooms to carry. the american flag and banners should also be carried. =toy-processions= (_trade catalogues_, _toothpicks_, _paper dolls_, _etc._) cut out paper dolls and let each one carry a tiny toothpick upon which has been pasted a picture cut from some catalogue. these catalogues will furnish pictures of shoes, carriages, saws, hammers, watches, furniture, etc. be sure that little american flags are also carried. dolls may be glued to spools for standards. =place cards for dinner= . (_bristol board_, _scissors_, _paints_, _brush_) make place cards of bristol board, which may be cut into shape of shoes, watches, etc., and painted accordingly. the name of guest may be placed on reverse side. or, on plain white card, paint a picture emblematic of a trade and write upon it also some quotation from a writer of democratic spirit. . (_tiny cast-iron rakes, spades and hatchets-- cent each._) as a souvenir, give each guest a tiny cast-iron spade, rake and hatchet tied together with cord. or, for a joke, these may be placed by each plate instead of knife, fork and spoon. . (_pen and ink or pencil_, _white card_.) draw on a plain, white card a picture of an ant, bee or beaver as emblematic of labor. use for place cards. . (_frances s. osgood's poem, "labor,"_ _white cards_, _pen and ink_.) on each card write one stanza of this beautiful poem, and after the close of the meal let each guest in turn read the lines on his card. it would be well for every child to commit this poem to memory. it is long, but sings itself easily into the mind. the word-pictures it calls up are exquisite and the learning of it, little by little, would not be an unhappy task. hallowe'en this is the festival which is given over to all kinds of merry pranks and is dearly loved by the children. it is an opportunity to teach them to discriminate between the fun which is kindly and that which is malicious and productive of needless pain. =ducking for apples and nuts= (_large pans or tubs_, _apples_, _nuts_, _pennies_) let the children, young and old, for once get themselves wet, if necessary, in ducking for the nuts and apples floating in the water. with a little suction some of the children will be able to get pennies from the bottom of the tub. =fortune-telling= . with needles. (_needles_, _pan of water_) name a needle for yourself and one for a friend, and put in the water, but not together. if they move safely across, it betokens good luck. two needles meeting indicate life partnership. . with toy ships. (_pan of water_, _nut ships as described on page _) name one little vessel for yourself and one for a friend and set them afloat. if they come to port on the other side all is well. . with apple rinds. (_apple_, _knife_) pare an apple so that the skin comes off in one long piece. toss over the head upon the floor, and the form it takes will give the initial letters of the name of one's future mate. . with cake. (_cake_, _thimble_, _ring_, _penny_, _etc._) bake a cake, hiding in the dough a thimble, a ring and a penny. when cut, the recipient of the ring is fore-doomed to marriage; the one getting the thimble will be a spinster; the one receiving the penny will have the pleasures and responsibilities of wealth. =apple-biting contest= (_apple suspended from a string_) . the apple is set swinging and two people, standing opposite each other, try as it passes to seize and hold it in the mouth. they must not touch it with the hands. . tie an apple by its stem to the middle of a string about a yard long. then two people, each taking one end of the string in the mouth, begin, at a signal, to gather it as fast as possible into the mouth, and so to reach the apple. this belongs to the one reaching it first. =refreshments= apples, nuts, popcorn, cider, gingerbread and doughnuts are suitable for lighter refreshments. baked beans and plain ice-cold rice pudding were once eaten with decided relish at a new york city hallowe'en party, the city people evidently enjoying the contrast between this feast and the usual caterer's service. serve fruit from a kettle suspended from three cross-sticks, _a la_ witch. =decorations= jack-o'-lanterns of pumpkins; strings of apples, popcorn and cranberries, and toy brooms hung here and there, as reminders of the witches who are said to be abroad, will add to the occasion. the pumpkins should be cut to resemble skulls. =reading= have some one read "tam o'shanter's mare" (burns); also some good ghost story. thomas kendrick bangs' "ghosts which i have met" contains some good stories, all absurd. choose a good reader for this. =place cards= . (_white or tinted cards_, _palmer cox brownies_, _ink_, _pen_) the brownies are delightfully funny little people without a suggestion of anything coarse or evil. the children love them. let the older ones copy and cut them out to use as invitation cards for the hallowe'en party or for place cards. . (see "pricking," page .) since witches are always associated with the pricking of pins, this is an appropriate occasion for using the kindergarten pricking. outline some of the brownies on tinted cards and prick as directed on page . . (see pumpkin jack-o'-lantern cards, page .) thanksgiving =place cards= (_white paper or cardboard_, _brush and paints or pen and ink_) . cut out a turkey, copying from some picture if necessary. (picture may be found in dictionary.) if skilful with brush or pen, indicate the feathers, eye, etc. . draw picture of a pumpkin. cut it out. paint in deep orange tones with shadings of brown. cut into it eyes, nose and mouth, suggesting jack-o'-lantern. . on white cards write stanzas from whittier's poem, "the pumpkin pie," and let each guest read his stanza in turn. . cut as many triangles as there are guests and paint each to resemble a slice of pie. one side of triangle should be curved. . find a simple figure of a puritan maiden and draw in outline; then cut out and paint or draw in black ink the important lines. use as place card. . make little walnut boats (see page ), and on each sail write name of guest. . find picture of mayflower and copy on white card. on reverse side write a stanza of "the breaking waves dashed high." let each guest read his lines. (or parts of "hiawatha" about mondamin may be used.) =table souvenirs= (_tiny cast-iron gardening tools, cent each_) as described under labor day, these tiny penny tools may be put at each place, the hatchet representing the knife, the rake the fork, and the spade the spoon. attach name of guest to set. =butter modeling= (_clay modeling tools_, _firm butter_) if any child has acquired a little skill in clay modeling, let him try his hand at modeling out of firm butter some form expressing a thanksgiving thought. it may be a piece of fruit, or some animal. get clay modeling tools at art store. =center piece= (_pumpkin_, _knife_, _fruits and vegetables_) hollow out a pumpkin in such a way that a part of the rind is left as a handle to the remaining part, which serves as a basket. into this basket put a variety of fruits and vegetables, emblematic of the bounties for which we are grateful. =jack-o'-lantern= (_pumpkin_, _knife_, _candle_) we doubt if any boy needs to be told how to cut a face in a pumpkin. a sharp knife will soon make the cuts for eyes, nose and mouth in the rind, the seedy contents having been previously removed. a hollow may be cut in the bottom of the interior to hold the candle, which can be made still steadier by melting a little from the bottom and letting it drip into this hollow, forming a waxy bed into which the candle may be inserted. =candlesticks= see pages and for those made of apples and of cardboard and colored papers. =room decorations= . corn stalks. (_strong cord and needle_, _hammer and tacks_.) stack cornstalks in the corners of the rooms in effective positions, two or three to a corner. those living in cities may find it well to secure these from farmer friends some time before the holiday. . unhusked ears of field corn. (_strong cord._) the corn husks must be turned back from the ears and cut off from them without loosening the separate leaves. then a number of these husks may be strung upon a strong thread or string alternating with the ears of corn. hang along the upper part of the wall as a frieze. the rich, warm tones of the brown and yellow are very effective. . cranberries and brussels sprouts. (_string_, _needle_.) run upon a string half a dozen cranberries, then a brussels sprout; then more cranberries, etc., and suspend this as a festoon along mantelshelf, in chandelier, or over window. . autumn leaves. (see page .) . autumn boughs. (_oak boughs._) oak boughs, with the rich red and russet leaves still upon them, are very handsome in the autumn. the beautiful branches may be gathered by the young people and hung in parts of the room where most effective. christmas =place cards= . (_sheet black paper_, _chinese white water-color paint_, _brush_.) cut a stocking from the black paper (obtainable at kindergarten supply store). with the paint, paint in white toes and heels. on the reverse side write some appropriate quotation and name of guest. stockings may be about four inches long. . (_white paper_, _black ink or crayon_.) cut a rough figure of a snowman out of white paper, put in features with black ink or crayon, and write name on reverse side. . (_water paper_, _water-colors_, _scissors_, _spray of holly_.) from real holly or a picture of same, paint a spray of green leaves and red berries. cut out around the edges and use as name card. . (_red cardboard_, _scissors_, _pen_, _ink_.) draw an outline of a bell on cardboard and cut out. an appropriate sentiment may be written upon one side and name of guest upon the other. =surprise nuts= (see page ) =snowflakes for tree= (see page ) =snowball= (_white cotton batting_, _snowflake crystals from toy store_, _white cotton cloth_, _sewing thread_, _mucilage_) cut two circles of cotton cloth, stuff with the batting, after sewing into shape of ball. cover lightly with snowflake crystals, first dipping ball lightly into thin mucilage. suspend from tree. =candles= (_paraffine or old candles_, _kettle_, _soft cotton string_, _small box of sand_, _pencil_) candles have sometimes been made in the kindergarten in either of the following ways: . heat a pound of paraffine (bought at grocer's), or melt up some old candle ends in a kettle. place in front of the child a cigar box containing about a quart of moist sand, smoothed level. then with his pencil let him press into the sand, making a deep, hollow mold just the width of the pencil. now let him hold a short piece of string so that it hangs down into this mold. an older person will then pour some of the melted wax into the mold. it will cling to the string, and in a moment or two will cool enough to be drawn out, making a little candle that can be used for the christmas tree, or put into a clay candlestick, also made by the child. (see below.) . put the kettle containing the melted wax before the child and let him dip into it a piece of string about four inches long. then let him take it out in a moment and lay it aside to cool. a very little wax will cling to it. meanwhile he dips in another string and puts aside to cool. when cool he takes up the first one and dips it in a second time, and a new coat of wax adheres. he proceeds thus until the candles are as large in diameter as desired (about / inch at base). the candles may be put into clay candlesticks, also made by the child. =candlesticks= (_clay_, _a tin or china candlestick to use as model_) let the child take a candlestick and copy in clay; it should be of simple form, a mere cylinder, with just enough of a base to make a firm standard. =candlesticks= (_cardboard_, _scissors_) cut small squares of cardboard. the candles may be made to stand temporarily upon these by melting the lower ends of the candles and letting some of the wax drip upon center of the cards, and then pressing the candle down upon the melted wax. these may be placed upon the table on christmas morning. =christmas carols= let the children learn some simple old carol, as a secret, and christmas morning have them sing it softly and sweetly to awaken father. a full program of songs suitable for this most beautiful of days will be found in the little book, "the children's messiah," compiled by mari ruef hofer, price cents. it gives also the address of a firm publishing stereopticon views for illustrating the program suggested. =spider-web party= (see page ) arrange the twines of several colors as described on page , and at the end place the gifts belonging to each child. =popcorn= (_popcorn_, _popper_, _thread_, _needle_) pop the corn and string into festoons with which to decorate the tree. =christmas bells= (_red cardboard_, _scissors_, _thread_, _needle_) make bells as described on page , only make them of various sizes. string, and use to decorate table or tree, or to festoon from the center of the ceiling to the corners and sides of the room. =kindergarten lanterns= (_red, gold, or silver paper_, _scissors_, _thread_, _paste_) take a kindergarten square of pretty paper or make a square of some attractive wrapping paper. fold once into an oblong. now cut a series of parallel lines from the fold toward the edge, stopping each about / inch from edge. open and paste one end so that it overlaps the other, the cuts running vertically. this makes the lantern bulge out a little at the fold, giving a japanese lantern effect. suspend by a thread tied to the upper edge or paste a narrow strip of paper on for a handle. use as decoration for christmas tree. =paper chains= (see pages and ) =reading= read a part or the whole of dickens' "christmas carol," "the chimes," or "the cricket on the hearth;" or "is there a santa claus," by jacob riis; or "the birds' christmas carol," by kate douglas wiggin. longfellow's "arsenal at springfield" and "a christmas hymn," by a. domett, are also appropriate. chapter ix the key basket or household duties and responsibilities train the children little by little to bear certain light responsibilities in the home. even in a home in which all the household tasks are done by trained servants let the girl and boy have some small duty to perform, if it be nothing more than to keep the match-safes filled. they will thus acquire an interest in the home which can be aroused in no other way. indeed, every child, boy and girl, should be trained to do easily and well the common household tasks upon which depend so much of the happiness and well-being of the home. such knowledge and skill often prove of use in unexpected emergencies and make for general efficiency. the ancient symbol of the housewife's office is her bunch of keys, hung at her waist or placed in the key-basket, so we have used this latter phrase as our chapter heading. home tasks here are a few brief directions for the usual home tasks in which both boys and girls may to some extent be trained. =table setting= (_usual dishes and cutlery_) different homes vary in unimportant particulars in the placing of the dishes. the following is a common arrangement for the dinner table: at each place lay the fork vertically at the left-hand side, the knife vertically at the right, and the soup-spoon to the right of the knife. this places each utensil so that it is ready for the hand which uses it most. put the teaspoons to the right of the soup-spoon, and the napkin to the left of the fork. place the glass just above the knife, the butterdish above the fork, and the individual salt-cellar, if used, between the two. father and mother sit at the ends of the table. put carving-knife and fork at father's place; also the soup ladle, as father serves the soup and carves. mother pours the coffee and tea and serves the vegetables. therefore the soup and dinner dishes must be placed before the carver, and the needed vegetable dishes and cups and saucers at the mother's place. here, too, must be placed the sugar bowl and cream pitcher. in the united states it is customary to serve most vegetables upon individual saucers. in england they are usually served upon the plate. if salad is to be served, oil and vinegar cruets may be put on. the dessert is usually served by the mother, and the necessary dishes must, therefore, be placed at her end of the table. if possible, always have flowers or a growing plant in the center of the table, but do not have it so high that it obscures the view of those persons sitting on opposite sides of the table. upon special occasions, particularly if the guests are many, it is convenient to indicate the place of each person by a "place card" bearing his name and decorated in some appropriate fashion. suggestions for such place cards will be found on other pages of this volume. =table-serving= (_tray_) train both boys and girls to wait on the table _quietly_ and _quickly_. then they can save mother many weary steps. remove soup-tureen first; then the individual dishes. after the meat-course, remove first the platter and vegetable dishes; then the plates, saucers, etc., from each individual place; then, if there is no salad course, the bread and butter dishes, cruets, etc., from center of table. next the table must be crumbed. do this by quietly removing crumbs from each place with crumb-knife and tray or by brushing with folded napkin. if salad is served, crumbing takes place after that course. hold all dishes to left of guest, so that he may easily help himself with his right hand. =dish-washing= (_hot water in quantity_, _dish pan_, _wire tray_, _drainer_, _washing-soda_, _soap_, _dish-mop_, _washcloth_, _towels in plenty, both coarse and fine_) if two people are to work together, let one collect the dishes and dispose of the left-over food, while the other washes the kettles and saucepans. get these heavy cooking utensils out of the way the first thing; then the drudgery part is over before the workers are tired out. dishes in which potatoes, cereals, or eggs have been cooked should be put to soak, not in hot, but in cold or tepid water; they are then readily cleaned. fill with water as soon as emptied. keep a little washing-soda on hand, dissolved in water in a canning-jar, for cleansing greasy dishes. have hot water in abundance, and, putting a little soda in with it, scrub the kettles briskly with the wire-brush that comes for the purpose, or with mop, dish-cloth or chain dish-cloth. wipe dry with a heavy towel. meanwhile the other worker is collecting, scraping and classifying the other dishes. before beginning to wash, have all the dishes assorted according to kind and size and placed convenient to hand. when putting away remnants of food it is well to have for the purpose a series of pitchers ranging from three inches to about nine in height. this gives sizes suited to any quantity which may be left over of soups, milk, liquid vegetables, etc. they take less room than bowls, and the graduated series ornaments the shelf. a wire strainer should be kept in the sink to prevent the larger particles of waste, indissoluble parings, coffee grains, etc., from going down the drain. this saves plumber's bills. when ready for the washing, begin with the glasses and wash quickly in hot water, either clear or soapy, as preferred. have at hand a second dish-pan in which is placed a wire rack. put the glasses in the rack, rinse with hot water, and dry rapidly while still wet and hot. it may be necessary to keep them in the water a moment or two to get them really heated through. in washing glass pitchers put a _silver_ spoon in them before placing in the hot water. this prevents breakage. treat canning-jars in the same way. next wash the silver, having the water soapy and piping hot, in order to get a good polish. keep spoons, knives and forks in separate groups and all pointing in the same direction. the smaller, less greasy dishes follow the silver, and then the heavy china. here, again, let dishes that have held eggs or starchy foods soak awhile in cold or tepid water. rinse greasy dishes well. conclude by scrubbing tables and sink with cloth, brush, soap and sapolio as needed. put the scrapings in the garbage pail and pour hot water and soda down the pipe to remove the last vestige of grease. hang up the shining dish-pans, after washing out the towels and dish-cloth in soap and water, if they require it. a can of babbitt's potash of lye may take the place of the washing-soda. =bed-making= (_two sheets_, _blanket_, _comforter_, _cover_) put the lower sheet on with the right side up. tuck it in neatly at the corners much as one would fold in the corners when wrapping up a box in paper. place the upper sheet upon this with the right side down. this brings the two right sides together. let the broad hem in each case be at the head of the bed. that of the upper sheet should just reach the head of the mattress. place the blanket with its upper end about six inches from the head of the bed. then comes the comforter, placed in the same way. fold the sheet down from the top just where the blanket ends. tuck all in neatly at the sides and the foot. now put the spread smoothly over all. it may be tucked in or may hang down as desired. place the pillows with the closed ends of the cases together. if an extra coverlet is to be placed at the foot of the bed, fold it in thirds so that the sleeper may reach down and draw it up over himself without rising to the floor. to put on a bolster-case easily, turn it wrong side out and then roll it up over the bolster. train children to air beds every morning by shaking up bed-clothing and extending it over footboard and chair. =washing= (_toy tub or tin basin_, _toy washboard_, _basin for boiler_, _soap_, _bit of blueing tied in bag_, _strong cord for line_) put dolls' clothes or a few dustcloths or handkerchiefs in tub of warm water after soaping well. let soak awhile, then rub out on the little washboard or between the hands, put into the boiler with cold water and just bring to a boil. rinse in warm water or wash vigorously in warm water if necessary; then rinse in warm and then in cold water; put the blueing in a basin of cold water till the water is slightly tinged; remove the blueing bag and rinse the clothes in the water. (the blueing is to counteract the tendency of white goods to grow yellow with time.) hang up to dry in the air and sunshine. tell the children that the clothes must always be sorted, white body clothes being in one class, bed-linen in another, table linen in another; woolens must be washed by themselves with care to keep the water of moderate temperature and the _rinsing_ water of the same degree of heat as the _washing_ water. flannels must be dried as rapidly as possible. colored garments must be washed by themselves. =ironing= (_two irons_, _holders_, _ironing blanket and sheet_, _iron-stand_, _cake of beeswax or candle_) before ironing the clothes must be sprinkled lightly with cold water, smoothed out and rolled up tightly for half an hour. meanwhile pin the blanket to the ironing board and cover smoothly with the sheet. the iron must not be so hot as to scorch the clothes. try it on a piece of paper. if it seems dirty or rough, rub it on the beeswax to make it clean and smooth. (in place of wax a candle will serve the purpose if wrapped around with a piece of clean cotton cloth.) if the garment seems too wet, put a piece of white cloth over it and iron till somewhat dry. then the iron may be placed directly upon the garment. starch is prepared by wetting and dissolving it in cold water and then pouring upon this boiling water and boiling until clear and smooth. the young child will not need to starch anything, however. =sweeping= (_broom_, _whisk-broom_, _hair-broom_, _sheet_, _sweeping-cap_) let the little worker don sweeping-cap and apron, and then proceed to dust carefully small articles and books, place them on the bed and cover with an old sheet. put furniture which is movable in the hall after dusting. open the window. then sweep the rugs on both sides and place outside. pin up the curtains. then dampen a newspaper and tear into small pieces; throw these on the floor to absorb the dust. wet tea-leaves may be used for the same purpose. sweep, holding the broom rather closely to the floor and taking short strokes, raising as little dust as possible. then leave the room for awhile, for the dust to settle. =dusting= (_dusters of cheesecloth_, _clean pieces of old silk_, _chamois-skin_) on returning to the room after sweeping, wipe off the baseboard, then the furniture, always working from the top down. to reach high corners where cobwebs may lurk, pin on the brush of the broom a cap of cheesecloth and sweep along the edges of the ceiling. for corners under heavy furniture, a small whisk brush or soft hair brush may be needed. rub off mirrors with a damp cloth, drying and polishing with chamois-skin or crumpled newspaper. highly polished furniture may be dusted with soft silk or chamois-skin. even small members of the family may be given a share in this work. little boys and girls can be shown how to dust chairs and furniture within reach of the little arms and hands. it may take more time at first on the mother's part than if she did the work herself; but in the end she is more than repaid. the little child need not be required to do much, but let that little be done thoroughly, if only the legs and rounds of one chair. chapter x the child's library every child should be encouraged to possess his own books even in this age of public libraries. birthdays and christmas afford occasions when the parent can increase the little library, and later the child may be trained how to choose wisely his own purchases. when he is limited in the books he possesses public libraries open up opportunities for a wide range of reading. we give a brief but varied list of books from which the parent may select such as suit her child's particular needs. the discriminating taste in reading must be cultivated from the earliest years if the child is to read with profit and pleasure in youth and maturity. all children should be allowed to read a few at least of the traditional fairy tales. they teach many important life lessons in an impersonal way; they develop the imagination and widen the sympathies. the successful business man, the progressive physician or lawyer, and the truly successful minister is he who understands human nature, who can put himself in the other person's place; and to do this he requires a cultivated imagination. the fairy tale also lifts the child from the restricted life of his environment into the region of boundless possibilities. it increases his sense of power over untoward circumstances. acquaintance with fairy lore also familiarizes one with many allusions to be met with in reading all great writers. a love of poetry should be the heritage of every child, because of the inspiration it gives amidst the sordid cares of life, and because of the innocent pleasure and refreshment it affords in hours of loneliness and weariness. the child's first book of verse should, of course, be mother goose. after this there are many valuable compilations of good poetry that may be used. a varied library to be found in one large volume is "the children's book" compiled by scudder. it includes selections from mother goose, from grimm's fairy tales, from old english fairy tales, the arabian nights, and hans andersen. there are also several of maria edgeworth's famous moral stories, a great many of Æsop's fables, many of the old english ballads, etc. an excellent compilation of verse is roger ingpen's "one thousand poems for children," which contains all the old favorites of children as well as a large number of the best-known poems by standard authors. standard books on science and nature should be in the home, and the child's library should include a few books with stories from real life leading up to biography, history, and travel. the little one's sense of humor must be accorded recognition. mother goose supplies such a need in part, and lear's book of nonsense may be added. the sunday funny sheet should be censored before being put into the hands of the child. expurgate anything that expresses disrespect to old age; that makes light of honor and integrity; or that is coarse in drawing, color, or subtle suggestion. if the child when grown is to appreciate the delicate humor of a charles lamb, his taste must not be dulled when he is young. it is a pity for a child to grow up without knowing and loving the "pilgrim's progress." to give him this pleasure the book should be read to him or put into his hands when about ten years old. otherwise the psychologic moment has passed and he may never learn to care for the great english classic. the great mediæval legends should also be known to the child. they are interwoven with much of history and literature and give a glimpse into a rapidly receding past. we include in our list a charming wee volume, "the young folks' book of etiquette," by c. s. griffen, which the mother, wearied of repeating from day to day the same admonitions as to manners and morals, will find a great assistance in seconding her efforts. the child will enjoy both the text and the pictures. for the child's bible reading we recommend moulton's edition of the old and new testaments. the language is identical with that of the familiar old volume, but the text is condensed so that each story is given in the form of a continuous narrative, and objectionable passages are omitted. it may thus safely be put into the hands of very young children, who enjoy the simple, dignified style. music also must form a part of the child's library. the list appended covers a variety of needs. fairy tales, myths, and legends adventures of pinocchio, translated from cullodi by cramp (an italian classic loved by children). Æsop's fables. alice in wonderland, lewis carroll. among the farmyard people, clara d. pierson. among the night people, clara d. pierson. (exceptionally good.) arabian nights entertainments. bimbi, ouida. (collection of beautiful tales.) book of saints and friendly beasts, abbie farwell brown. bow-wow and mew-mew, georgiana m. craik. boys' odyssey, w. c. perry. curious book of birds, abbie farwell brown. fairy tales, hans christian andersen. fifty famous stories retold, baldwin. folk tales from the russian, blumenthal. gods and heroes, francillon. (greek legends.) household stories, anna c. klingensmith. heroes every child should know, hamilton wright mabie. in the days of giants, abbie farwell brown. (norse legends.) japanese fairy tales, translated by williston. jungle book, kipling. king arthur and his court, frances nimmo greene. knights of the silver shield, r. m. alden. (includes "why the chimes rang.") little black sambo. (beloved by young children.) mother goose (altemus edition), including a few fairy tales. nights with uncle remus, joel chandler harris. norse gods and heroes, a. klingensmith. norse tales, hamilton w. mabie. peterkin papers, hale. (afford pure, wholesome humor.) peter rabbit, the tale of, beatrix potter. saints of italy legends, ella noyes. story of siegfried, baldwin. the boys' king arthur, edited by lanier. the red book of romance, edited by lang. the red fairy book and others of same series, edited by lang. tanglewood tales, hawthorne (greek legends). the oak tree fairy book, edited by clifton johnson. the pilgrim's progress, bunyan. the stars in song and legend, jermain g. porter. the wonder book, hawthorne. wagner story book, frost. wandering heroes, lillian j. price. water babies, charles kingsley. wizard of oz, baum. history and biography childhood of ji-shib the ojibwa, a. e. jenks. children of the cold, frederick schwatka. (life among esquimaux children.) cuore, de amicis, translated by mrs. lucas. (experiences of a school boy in italy.) each and all, jane andrews. five minute stories, laura e. richards. history of the ancient greeks, c. d. shaw. lolami, the little cliff-dweller, clara k. bayliss. ten boys of long ago, andrews. the chinese boy and girl, bishop headland. the snow baby, mrs. peary. seven little sisters, jane andrews. story of joan of arc for boys and girls. story of my life, helen keller. story of troy, m. clarke. nature a year in the fields, burroughs. everyday birds, bradford torrey. first book of forestry, filibert roth. friends in feathers and fur, johonnot. grasshopper land, margaret morley. how to attract birds, neltje blanchan. lady hollyhock and her friends, margaret c. walker. (tells how to make dolls out of flowers.) plant relations, coulter. pussy meow, s. louise patteson. the bee people, margaret morley. the hall of shells. the stars in song and legend, j. g. porter. the training of wild animals, frank c. bostock. trees in prose and poetry, stone and fickett. ways of the woodfolk, william j. long. wilderness ways, william j. long. wild animals i have known, seton thompson. poetry book of nursery rhymes, new collection of old mother goose, charles welsh. children's book, the, compilation by scudder. (prose and verse.) child's garden of verses, robert l. stevenson. the chinese mother goose, bishop headland. (charmingly illustrated with photographic pictures of chinese children with their parents.) golden numbers, kate douglas wiggin. (choice collection of miscellaneous poetry; beautifully bound.) little rhymes for little readers, wilhelmina seegmiller. lyrica heroica, edited by w. e. henley. one thousand poems for children, roger ingpen. (a very full collection.) the listening child, l. w. thacher. (compilation of short poems suitable for children over six.) the posy ring, kate douglas wiggin. (choice collection for young children.) the robin's christmas eve. (old english ballad.) picture books an apple pie, kate greenaway. at great aunt martha's (pictures), kathleen ainslie. (illustrations of wooden dolls.) book of nonsense, edward lear. (highly recommended by ruskin.) dean's rag books. (for very young children; will wash and iron.) jingleman jack (pictures and verses about the trades), o'dea and kennedy. four and twenty toilers, lucas. (hard to procure.) music children's messiah, mari ruef hofer. children's singing games, old and new, mari ruef hofer. christmas-time songs and carols, mrs. crosby adams. finger plays, emilie poulsson. holiday songs, emilie poulsson. merry songs and games for the use of the kindergarten, clara b. hubbard. music for the child world, mari ruef hofer. two vols. (music every child should know.) nature songs for children, fanny snow knowlton. primary and junior songs for the sunday-school, mari ruef hofer. small songs for small singers, illustrated, w. h. neidlinger. song stories for the kindergarten, mildred and patty hill. songs and games for little ones, walker and jenks. songs and games of the mother-play book, froebel. songs every child should know, dolores bacon. songs for little children, eleanor smith. two vols. songs of childhood, field de koven song book. songs of the open, seeboeck. songs of the child world, jessie l. gaynor. st. nicholas songs, the words from st. nicholas magazine. sunday-school helps a year of sunday-school work, florence u. palmer. beginnings, a. w. gould. pamphlet. tells of the beginnings of world, man, sin, language, death, law, etc., according to the bible, according to science, and according to old myths. bible for young people, century co. kindergarten sunday-school stories, laura a. cragin. (new testament.) old and new testament for children, edited by richard g. moulton. old testament bible stories, walter l. sheldon. stories from the lips of the teacher, o. b. frothingham. stories of the patriarchs, o. b. frothingham. wonder stories from the gospels, katherine beebe. chapter xi kindergarten materials the kindergarten gifts friedrich froebel, after observing and studying thoughtfully the play and playthings of little children, selected from among these, and arranged in logical order, a certain series which should help develop the little one in mind, body, and spirit through childlike play. this series of related playthings is known as the kindergarten "gifts." all children of all races play ball, and the first kindergarten gift to be given, even to a very little child, consists of six soft worsted balls in the colors red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. the second gift is an oblong box containing a wooden ball or "sphere," a cube, and a cylinder, with several slender axles and beams to assist in the little plays. the third gift is a box containing a two-inch cube divided horizontally and vertically into eight one-inch cubes. the fourth gift is a similar cube divided horizontally into eight oblong blocks. the fifth gift is evolved from the preceding ones and is a five-inch cube divided into inch cubes, half cubes, and quarter cubes. the sixth gift is a cube of the same size divided so that it contains cubes, oblongs, and plinths. the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth gifts are derived from the geometrical solids. the seventh gift is derived from the geometrical surfaces, and consists of wooden tablets in shapes of circles, squares, triangles, etc. the eighth gift represents the geometrical line and is made up of wooden sticks in lengths of one, two, three, four, five, and six inches. they may be had in two thicknesses and either colored or uncolored. the ninth gift, derived from the edge of the circle, consists of metal rings, half rings, and quarter rings, in several sizes. the tenth gift, derived from the geometric point, is the lentil. kindergartners differ as to the amount of emphasis to be placed upon the geometric side of the "gifts," and as to whether or not they should always be presented in a certain logical order. to appreciate their full value the mother must read her froebel or take a kindergarten course. we give below some simple methods of using them, from which the child will derive both pleasure and benefit. what follows should be entirely clear, especially if the mother has the "gifts" before her as she reads. =first gift balls= (_rubber ball - / inches in diameter_, _wool in six primary colors_, _crochet-hook_) these balls can be made by taking a _rubber_ ball and crocheting around it a case of worsted; or a case can be crocheted and then stuffed with loose wool or cotton. in the latter case to insure a good shape it is well to crochet _over a ball_ till nearly finished; then take the rubber ball out and fill with the cotton or wool and then complete the ball. then crochet a string about eight inches long and attach to the ball, for suspending it. the ball can then be swung, raised, lowered, made to hop like a bird, swing like a pendulum, revolve rapidly like a wheel. the child may play that it is a bucket being raised or lowered. see how steadily he can raise it. the balls lend themselves to many color games. . place them in a row, let one child blind his eyes, another one removes one of the balls and the first one, opening his eyes, tries to think which one is missing. . let children observe the colors through a glass prism and try to arrange balls in similar order. ask child if he can tell which colors are uppermost in the rainbow, the cold or the warm ones. . if the mother is sewing on a colored dress, let the child try to pick out the ball resembling it in color. . play hiding the ball, as in hide the thimble. . play store, letting him tell you which ball will best represent a lemon, an orange, a red apple, etc. =second gift plays= throughout his life, froebel felt with keen pain all that was discordant or inharmonious in human society. beneath all differences and misunderstandings lay, he believed, the possibility of adjustment, or reconciliation. relations most strained might be brought into harmonious union. this great idea is typified by the second gift. the hard wooden sphere is _round, curved from all points of view_, with no _angles_ or _edges_, and is _easily moved_. the cube is a complete contrast to the sphere, inasmuch as it _stands firmly_, has _flat faces_, _angles_, and _edges_. the cylinder combines the characteristics and possibilities of the other two. it has flat faces as well as a curved one, and can both stand and roll. it forms a bond of connection between the other two which at first sight seem irreconcilable. three of these forms have small staples inserted in side, edge, and angle so that they may be suspended, swung, and revolved. there are also perforations through each one admitting the insertion of the axles, when needed for certain plays. if an axle be put through cube or cylinder and it be revolved rapidly, you can see, in the swift moving figure, the spirit, as it were, of the other forms--an experiment fascinating to young and old. a little imagination will turn the box in which these blocks come, into a boat, car, engine, etc., pins, matches, tacks, wire, etc., being called in as extras. the little wooden beam may be placed across, held up by the axles and upon this the blocks may be suspended as objects for sale in a store. the box with its cover may be used to illustrate the three primary mechanical principles, the pulley, or wheel, the inclined plane, and the lever. the pulley is made by placing the cylinder on an axle, tying a little weight to one end of a cord and drawing it up over the cylinder. let the child play the weight is a bucket of water being drawn up from a well. play loading a boat and use the cover for a plank, inclined from the deck to the ground, up which to roll a barrel (the cylinder). play that the cube is a heavy piano box and show how to raise it by using a stick as a lever. the students of a kindergarten training school made fine derrick cranes with this box of blocks, and no two were exactly alike. =games with second gift ball= . let children sit crossed-legged on the floor in a circle and let one child roll the ball across to another child. he in turn rolls it straight over to some other child and so on. . let one child sit in the center of a circle and roll the ball to each child in turn, who rolls it back to him. . let several children stand in the center of a ring and try to catch the ball as it rolls swiftly by. . let children stand in center and try to avoid being touched by the ball as it rolls along. . draw a circle on the floor and let the children try in turn to so roll the ball that it will stop inside of the ring. . place the cube in the center of the circle. put the cylinder on top of the cube and balance the sphere carefully upon the cylinder. then let the children try to hit this target with another ball. many are the lessons in self-control, fair play, patience and kindness which the children practice in playing these simple games, in addition to the physical exercise and training in alertness, in seeing correctly and in acting quickly. =second gift beads= mrs. hailmann, a kindergarten training teacher, some years ago added to the "gifts" the so-called "second gift beads," much loved by wee children. these are perforated wooden beads in shape of the sphere, cube and cylinder. they come in two sizes and may be had in colors or uncolored. a shoe lace comes with them for stringing. in delightful plays with these beads the child learns to distinguish form and color, and has practice in simple designing. at first let him have a number of different kinds and let him thread them as he pleases. observe him and see if, of his own initiative, he will distinguish either form or color. after a while he will probably, without suggestion, begin to string them in some sort of order--one sphere, one cube, one sphere, one cube, etc. two spheres, two cubes, two cylinders, etc. when he begins to see differences, give him two forms only and let him arrange. later give him others. too many at first will be confusing. besides the stringing, these beads may be used in other ways. make a fence by putting two cubes and a sphere, one on top of the other for a post, and then join these to similar posts by running toothpicks or burnt matches through the perforations. place cubes and cylinders, one on top of another, and use as tree box with tiny twig or elderberry branch for tree. if making a toy village of blocks or cardboard, these little beads will make good lampposts. =the pegboard= the pegboard, an additional gift devised by mrs. alice h. putnam, can also be had in two sizes, the large one to be preferred. the board is perforated with holes at regular intervals and is accompanied with colored pegs, which the child loves to insert in the openings. he may arrange them in ranks for soldiers, according to color, two and two, or four and four, learning thus to count. a flower-bed with red flowers in one corner and green bushes in another may be made. he may play that the pegs are kindergarten children playing follow the leader, some with red dresses, some with blue waists, etc. a birthday cake with candles may be represented, or a line of telegraph poles, if father has gone on a journey, and over the imaginary wires a message may be sent. the pegboard is also loved by very young children. =plays with the other gifts= the third gift cubes may be built by the little child into houses, furniture, wagons, etc. it is very simple, and yet when handling it the child learns something of form and number and gains skill with his tiny hands. the fourth gift expresses "proportion." each block is twice the length of those in the preceding gift and half as high. he can build with it objects impossible with the first divided cube. the two may often be used in conjunction. the fifth gift requires a decided increase in the child's powers of coördination. he can make with it a very great variety of objects. only a kindergartner can appreciate its many possibilities. the sixth gift lends itself peculiarly to buildings of a certain type. it expresses less strength and more grace than the preceding ones. in playing with these "gifts" under direction of a teacher, the child, if making the grocery store, proceeds to make the counter, the scales, the money desk, etc., in succession, and is not allowed to take the first structure apart in disorderly fashion and then make the next one, but is supposed to build the counter, or other article, by gradually transforming the thing already made, removing the blocks in ones, or twos, or threes in an orderly way. each block is supposed to have some relation to the whole. for instance if a shoe store has been made and one unused block remains, it may represent the footstool used in such a store. froebel thought in this way through simple play to help the child little by little to feel the relatedness of all life. =seventh gift plays= with the seventh gift tablets the child makes designs or "beauty forms," becoming familiar with certain geometrical forms and exercising his powers of invention in pleasing design. in using the tablets, which are in both light and dark stains, do not give too many at first. give him for instance one circle, representing a picture of a ball, and let him lay a row of such for a frieze design for a gymnasium. give a circle and four squares, and let him place one above, one below, one to the right and one to the left, touching the circle. this will suggest a unit for a tile for a playroom fireplace. tell him to change the top square so that its angle touches the circle; then change the lower one in the same way; then the right, then the left. this transformation gives an entirely new design. the other tablets may be employed in the same way, the different kinds of triangles offering opportunity for much variety. =eighth gift plays= the sticks may be used in representing designs in which the straight line prevails. the lines may be placed in vertical or horizontal position. sticks may be arranged as soldiers, standing two and two in straight vertical lines; or as fences in horizontal position. they may be classified as to length. let the child sort them as wood for the woodpile, putting together those of same length. or play he is in the store to buy a cane and sees those of different lengths, some for men, some for children. for designing give the child four sticks of one length and let him make a square. give him four of another length and let him make a larger square. then with these eight sticks let him make two oblongs of the same size. give him these exercises as puzzles, but do not let him play with the sticks until he gets nervous in trying to keep them in position. =play with lentils= these are necessarily few and simple. let the child make circles, squares, etc., by putting the lentils in rows. he can also represent the mass of a tree's foliage by placing a number of the lentils in a mass. chapter xii kindergarten materials the kindergarten occupations the kindergarten gifts proceed, as will have been observed, from the solid through other forms to the point. the objects made with these are but temporary, and the same material may be used again and again. parallel with these froebel devised what he calls the "occupations," which put into permanent shape the ideas expressed by the gifts. among the occupations (we will not name all) are: peaswork, pricking, sewing, weaving, parquetry, pasting, cardboard modeling, sand and clay modeling. these are arranged in reverse order to the gifts; that is, they proceed from the point to the solid. =peaswork= (_good well-dried peas_, _wooden toothpicks or hair-wire_) soak the peas for or hours till soft. then make a cane of one pea and one stick. two peas and one stick will make a dumb-bell. three of each will make a triangle. make a square in the same way, and then by adding to this other peas and sticks a skeleton chair can be made. all kinds of furniture and geometrical forms may be thus manufactured. the wire or toothpick must be inserted in the cheek of the pea. watch the child carefully to see that he does not get nervous over the work. assuming that the peas are in good condition, there should be little trouble if the forms made are simple. =pricking= (_thin white cardboard_, _long pin_, _several folds of cloth or a piece of felt_) froebel recognized the appeal this pastime makes to the mystery-loving child. as sometimes used it may be injurious to nerves or eyesight; but used judiciously the child of five or six will find it a source of harmless entertainment. let mother or older brother draw on cardboard a simple strong outline. provide a strong steel pin (hat-pin or mourning-pin will do) and a piece of folded cloth for a cushion. follow the outline by pricking in it a succession of holes. the rough side is the right side of the decorated card. the card may be hung up as a transparency, or may be made up into blotter or calendar; or, if the outline be that of a vegetable or a fruit, it will make up into a thanksgiving place card. very beautiful effects are produced by pricking the surface as well as the outline, a form of embossing, but this is a great strain on the nerves. let the child work for only a few moments at a time, and be sure that the light is good and the drawing is distinct. =sewing= (_cardboard_, _worsted_, _silk or chenille_, _needle_, _punch_) it is a disputed question now whether or not the cardboard sewing of the kindergarten, once considered so essential, should be used at all. some condemn it entirely; others use it sparingly. many replace it with sewing on cloth and other materials soft and flexible, which lend themselves to the kind of stitching required later in everyday sewing. we cannot now enter into the discussion, but common-sense rules here as elsewhere. cards with designs already drawn and perforated may be bought, but the mother need not feel that she must depend upon these. old visiting and invitation cards may be used for the purpose. we give a few examples of objects pretty and useful which may be made of this material. these will suggest others to the active-minded child. get punch at kindergarten supply store; from cents up. . gift card. cut a square of cardboard × inches. with a needleful of red worsted let the child sew upon this card three straight candles in stitches one inch long. you may first punch in the bottom of the card three holes as guides. put them in a row equidistant from each other. make parallel to these a row of three dots in pencil. the child will push the needle through one hole _from below_ and put it through the dot above, making his own hole. so proceed till finished. a flame may be drawn with yellow chalk at the upper end of each candle, to make it more realistic. this card may be used to stand a candlestick upon, or to send as a birthday card. a similar card with the red stitches lying horizontally will picture firecrackers ready to be set off. use as a mat for a match safe. . cover for medicine glass. draw a circle five inches in diameter. cut this out. parallel to the edge draw a circle four inches in diameter. make dots about / inch apart along this second circle. punch holes through these dots. with worsted, ravelings or chenille let the child sew once around this circle. then go around the other way to fill up all the gaps left the first time. use as cover for glass of medicine. line the bottom with clean, white paper. vary by overcasting, or from a central hole take long radiating stitches to the holes in the circumference like the spokes of a wheel. . toy umbrella. the above circle with spokes may be made into a toy umbrella if a slender stick be run through for a handle. stick a pin about an inch from the top to keep the umbrella part from slipping down. . bookmark. cut an oblong card × inches. draw upon this a row of parallel oblique lines about one inch apart and one inch long. punch holes through the ends of the lines at the bottom, sew one slanting line to show the child, and let him finish the row. a similar oblong will make a napkin ring if the ends be brought together and tied with the ends of the worsted. squares, oblongs, crosses, etc., may thus be punched and sewed. if no punch is obtainable, make the holes with a coarse needle or strong pin. =paper tearing= (see page ) =paper cutting= this is another froebelian occupation. some suggestions have been given elsewhere. (see page .) we will speak here of a more definite series of progressive steps. take a square of white paper. fold once to make an oblong. keep folded and fold once more, which gives a small square. from the corners of this square cut pieces, large or small. keep these. open the paper and lay it down. then arrange around it the cut-off corners to make a design. they may be arranged in a variety of ways. the pieces cut off the corners may be of various shapes. vary another square by cutting into it, after it has been folded, triangles or other figures. open and arrange around it these cut-off pieces. when a satisfactory design has thus been made, it may be pasted on a pleasing background of paper. in kindergarten training, checked paper is provided and the cuttings are made from lines drawn upon this according to a progressive system. =parquetry= (_colored papers_, _paste_, _kindergarten slat or match for paste-stick_) this occupation has its parallel in the tablets. the designs made temporarily with the circles, squares, etc., of wood may be put into more permanent form with the parquetry papers. these are circles, squares, triangles, etc., of colored papers, the unit of size being the inch. there are , in a package, embracing the six colors--red, orange, yellow, green, blue and violet, with two shades and two tints of each, besides neutral tones, and black and white. . easter card. give the child an oblong piece of gray cardboard, six inches long, and some yellow circles. let him paste a row of circles for dandelion heads and then chalk in the green stems. give to father for an easter card. red and yellow circles may be cut in half and so arranged as to suggest tulips. (see page .) . frieze. let the child make designs for a frieze for the doll-house parlor, arranging circles and squares successively or alternately on a strip of paper. or he can make a design for the doll-house kitchen oilcloth by pasting squares or circles (one square or circle surrounded by others) in a square unit. an inexpensive paste for this work may be made of gum tragacanth. buy five cents' worth of the powdered gum. put a tablespoonful into an empty mucilage bottle and fill with water. in a few moments it will dissolve and thicken. use more or less, according to thickness desired. =weaving= (_colored kindergarten weaving mats_, _weaving needle_) this is one of the most popular of kindergarten occupations. primitive man early learned to interlace the branches of trees to make for himself a shelter, and to weave together coarse fibres to make his crude garments. in course of ages great skill was acquired in thus using all kinds of flexible materials; artistic baskets were produced of raffia and reeds, and fine garments of linen, wool and cotton. beautiful effects in color and form were introduced, the designs usually having a symbolic meaning. froebel devised, for the expression of this natural tendency, a series of exercises with colored paper, which gave practice in selection of color harmonies, in designing, in counting, and which led to skill and neatness in work. loom-weaving has been described on another page. ( .) in many kindergartens it now entirely supersedes the paper-weaving, which we will here briefly describe. . if you do not care to buy the regular kindergarten weaving mats, you may use smooth gray or brown wrapping paper cut into four-inch squares. in such a square cut _two_ slits / inch apart and one inch long. from some pretty paper cut a strip one inch wide and two inches long and insert in the slit in the mat, pasting the ends of the strip to the under side of the mat. . cut _three_ or _four_ slits in similar mats and weave into them one-inch or half-inch strips, using narrower ones as the child gains skill. weave such a strip under one and over one; then weave another, under two and over two, etc.; thus a variety of effects may be produced and the child meanwhile has practice incidentally in simple counting. such a mat may be used to cover a glass of drinking water or medicine glass. . a larger mat may be made of pretty paper cut into comparatively fine slits. paste upon this mat a square of smooth paper as a kind of lining; fold cornerwise and paste two edges together, making a kind of cornucopia. . scent-bag. a scent-bag may be made by putting between the mat and the lining described above a thin piece of cotton-batting, sprinkled with scent. . oilcloth or felt. instead of paper, mats may be woven of plain oilcloth or of felt. have two colors of each material, one for the mat and one for the strips. on a -inch square of the material draw four parallel lines one inch apart and one inch from the top and bottom. then using these as guide lines, cut four slits and weave in and out as with the paper weaving. ribbon may be used for the woof if desired. such a mat may be used for a lamp-mat or for a flower-pot mat. among the reasons for discarding the paper-weaving are the following: the colors are somewhat intense, and it is not always easy to secure good harmonies; the care necessary to avoid tearing the delicate paper and soiling the delicate colors is often a trial to highly-strung children. therefore they should not work at it too long at a time. a weaving needle comes with the kindergarten weaving papers. =paper-folding= we give here _only a very few_ of the innumerable forms which may be made by folding paper according to exact directions. mother may conduct such a little play while she is sewing and the child is on the floor or at the table. but directions must be exact and explicit. after once having told what to do in quiet, distinct, clear language, do not repeat. train the child to hear accurately the first time. papers in many tones may be obtained from the kindergarten supply stores, but any exact square of white paper or of smooth brown wrapping paper will do. place the simple open square before the child, the edge directly in front of him. call it a tablecloth and ask where the different members of the family sit. if able to wield the scissors, let him fringe the edge all around. . book. give a second square and, showing him which are the front corners, tell him to take hold of these and fold the paper over so that the front edge is just on a line with the back edge. let him iron the table cloth (crease the fold with his thumb nail) so as to make a sharp line when opened. this makes a little book or tent. ask what he can read in the book; who camps out in the tent; etc. . window. make another tent. keep the tent in front of the child and tell him to open it and then to fold the left side over so that the left edge exactly meets the right edge. crease and open, and the result is a window with four panes. have the child tell what he plays he can see through it. . tunnel. fold a square once through the middle as before. open and notice the sharp line made by the crease. now fold the front edge to meet exactly _this line_. open and then fold the back edge to meet this line. open in such a way that the form when standing makes a little tunnel. roll a marble under it. [illustration: paper-folding.] . barn. fold a square into sixteen little squares by making a tunnel in one direction and then folding a tunnel in the other direction, so that the creases cross each other at right angles. open out and cut from the _left edge_ and from the _right edge_ three slits along the horizontal creases to the first intersecting vertical crease. (see illustration.) now fold no. over no. so that one little square exactly covers the other and paste or pin together. do the same at the other end. this draws the paper into shape of gable roof. place remaining flaps so that one overlaps the other a trifle, as shown in the illustration. then cut a door in the side. (see illustration.) this can be made of a large sheet of strong paper and will house very large paper animals. . sailboat. place a square of paper directly in front of you. fold the front edge backward to meet exactly the back edge and crease. open and fold the left edge over to meet exactly the right edge and crease. open. turn the paper over so that _the under side is uppermost_, and place so that a _corner_ is directly in front of you. fold the paper so that the front corner exactly meets the back corner and crease. open and fold so that the left corner exactly meets the right corner. you now have a square crossed by two diameters and by two diagonals. number the _corners_ thus: , , , , and the _center_ . take the corners and hold in one hand so that - , - , - and - are back to back. then crease in that position. the form is a square. lay down so that the _folded corner_ faces you. fold the loose back corner down to meet the front corner. then turn over and again fold the remaining back corner down to meet the front corner, and two sails become visible. fold back one-half of the hull to make a base, and the little boat will stand and move if breathed upon. it can be made water-tight by dipping in melted paraffine. melt the paraffine by putting it in a double boiler with boiling water beneath. =cardboard modeling= (_cardboard_, _knife_, _pencil_, _scissors_) this is another of froebel's materials which is much used in the kindergarten. the regular kindergarten cardboard comes in large sheets measured off into inches, half inches and quarter inches by red and blue lines. these are to assist in the accurate cutting and folding of the stiff paper. the tinted bristol board obtainable at stationery stores is also much used. with this simple material older children acquire skill of both hand and eye. the higher school grades are now using it to a great extent in making geometrical figures, thus gaining practice in making objects after first making the working drawings for the same. a tinsmith who has had kindergarten training will find himself better equipped for his life work because of this early experience in cutting and measuring. the directions here given assume that the unruled cardboard is used. to _score_ is to make a long shallow cut or scratch in the cardboard with a knife, so that it will bend easily. we give a few simple objects in the order of their difficulty. . book-mark. draw an oblong × inches. cut it out and punch a series of holes down the middle, one inch apart. run a bit of baby ribbon in and out and thus make a simple book-mark. . toy wash-bench. draw and cut an oblong × inches. draw a line straight across this one inch from each end, and then score these lines lightly. bend and you have a wash-bench for doll's house. . sugar-scoop. draw and cut an oblong × inches. draw a line lengthwise through the middle. score this line, and _cut_ along the score _one inch from each end_. score again from each end at _right angles_ to the previous crease. bend up the scored ends and the side, and paste the flaps together. this may be used for the toy grocery store. . box. read these directions through once. then begin and work along as you read again, and all will be clear. cut out a square measuring × inches. place squarely before you, and then on the front edge, one inch from each side, make a dot. on the back edge, one inch from each side, make a dot. unite the dots at front and back by straight lines. this gives two vertical lines. now, on the right hand edge, one inch from each end make a dot, and do the same on the left hand edge. unite these dots by straight lines, which gives two horizontal lines crossing the ones previously made at right angles. with a sharp knife, and ruler to keep it straight, score along these lines so that they may be readily bent. now, from the right edge cut along each horizontal line a slit one inch long. from the left edge cut along each horizontal line a slit one inch long. these cuts will give four flaps. bend up the four oblong sides and fold each flap over inside the box and paste. a little experimentation on the part of older children will show how to elongate one side so as to make a cover. differences in the proportions of the original piece of cardboard will make boxes of different proportions. . work-box. draw a five-inch pentagon. look up in a geometry to find the rules for doing this. upon each side as a base erect another pentagon. score at the line of junction and bend the side pentagons till the edges meet. in these edges punch holes opposite each other, and through these tie baby ribbon to hold them together. =clay modeling= (_potter's clay_, _oilcloth or small smooth board_, _curtain pole_) clay is one of the important kindergarten materials, and if used with care need give but little trouble. buy at kindergarten supply store or art shop. take a yard of table oilcloth and sew tapes to the corners so long that the oilcloth may be tied to a table and thus held smooth and firm. when not in use keep rolled up on a curtain-pole, broom-handle or dowel. this preserves it from untimely cracking. upon this oilcloth the child can easily work with the clay, and the small pieces which may stick to it are readily wiped off with a damp cloth. if preferred, a small board about a foot square may be used instead of oilcloth. the child soon learns not to scatter the pieces. it is well for him to wear a little apron when making his small works of art. when finished with the clay, let him remove as much as possible from the hands as a rule, what remains may be rubbed away with a brisk clapping of the hands or is washed off very readily. . if his first impulse is to pound and thump the clay, show the child how pretty things may be made by gently pressing and molding the clay between thumb and fingers. if he is still interested in pounding, show him how to make a sphere by rolling the clay between the palms, and then by striking it four times hard against the table it is transformed into a rough sort of cube which further effort will improve. . if he inclines to make a number of balls, show him if possible one of the cheap clay marbles, and tell him to make some like it, though his will have no glazing. . if you see that he is rolling the clay into long lengths, suggest that he make a snake or links of a chain. . older children may be shown how to roll it with the palm into long slender cylinders. then coil these round and round spirally upon themselves and so build up a jar, as certain primitive races do. then smooth it outside and inside until well shaped. . bowls and crude vases are easily made, and these when dried may be painted and used to hold matches or pencils. . sometimes, to stir the imagination, break off a rough piece of clay and ask the child if it looks like anything to him. if it suggest a bird or fish or fruit, show him how the crude form may be made more nearly perfect. . take a bit of clay and upon it press another bit, and so little by little smooth and press and build up a plaque / inch high and four inches square. upon this as a background, build up in the same way, little by little, a raised leaf, or a geometrical figure, such as a square or a maltese cross. if a leaf is made, copy from a real leaf. when thus interested, let the older children read longfellow's beautiful poem, "keramis," and the work of the potter will have a meaning it never had before. the children who thus make crude efforts to express the beautiful gain in power little by little, and will have added capacity to appreciate the wonderful works of art to be seen in every gallery. they will gain in discrimination as to what is really beautiful, and will know how to choose those decorations and ornaments which will make their homes truly artistic. clay lends itself so readily to the slightest turn of thought, and is so easily employed by the smallest pair of hands, that it is one of the best materials to give to the little child. he soon learns to tell with it what he may be able to say in no other way. when ready to put away, break into small pieces, put the pieces together, knead a little till made into a mass, punch a few holes in the mass, fill these with water, put into a stone jar and cover with a damp cloth. or put the clay into a cloth, dampen, and then, twisting the four corners of the cloth together, drop the mass on the floor. do this several times and it will be found welded together. then put into the stone jar. disinfect clay by exposing to sunshine. =sand-table= (_kitchen table_, _saw_, _boards_, _nails_, _zinc_) from germany we have finally learned the value of the sand-table and the sand-pile as means of development to the child, not to speak of their virtues as pure givers of joy. sand-tables may be bought at kindergarten stores, or one may be made of a kitchen table by sawing off the legs to the size which brings the table top within reach of the child. then the top should be fenced in with boards, from three to six inches high, to keep the sand in. it is a good plan to line the table with zinc, since it is sometimes desirable to have the sand pretty wet, although it generally suffices to make it just damp enough to mold readily. it can be dampened with a sprinkling-can. . the child will play a long while without much suggestion. a little pail or bottle to be filled and emptied and refilled will furnish material for his embryonic experiments. . a tiny cast-iron spade (price one cent) will add materially to his happiness. . shells and patty-pans of different shapes and convolutions suggest bakery plays, and mother must sample the baby's cookery. when houses and forts and churches are the order of the day, paths must be laid and bordered with stones and shells; twigs and elderberry branches make tiny trees for tiny orchards; and a little pan of water or a bit of mirror makes a wee lake. the kindergarten building gifts make substantial structures, bridges, park-benches, etc. a winding river can be painted with blue paint on the zinc. when the child's imagination flags, a word from the mother or a timely story will start a new series of plays next time. . older children will enjoy reproducing in the sand the hills and valleys of their environment, the roads, woods and streams which they know, etc. . tell of the western plant which, when uprooted from its loose hold in the desert sand, is sent flying by the wind over the sand, and wherever it touches makes a perfect spiral. let the children make such spirals with a coiled piece of wire. . having noticed the impression made upon the sand by the patty-pans, the child can be led to make designs with them by making a row of impressions equal distances apart, arranging these in twos, in threes, etc. index page abacus, acquiring skill with brush or pencil, aiming games, , , anagrams, apple-biting contest, apple candlestick, apple-seed penwiper, applied art, ash tray, autograph picture, badge, baking pan papers, balls, , barn, paper folding, beads, second gift, bean bag games, bean bags, to make, bed-making, bedstead, dolls, bells, , berry baskets or boxes, birchbark, biscuit, thimble, block furniture, blowing bubbles, blowing out candle, boat, , , , blue prints, bon-bon papers, , booklist, bookmark, , border for sand-table, bottling shells, bottling stones, boxes, , , breastpin, bristol board, brush, pencil or, bubbles, burnt match safe, butter dishes, butterflies, , butterfly party, butter modeling, buttons, button-box, button mold tops, button mold wheels, calendar, , candle, blowing out, candle design, candle making, candle sticks, , , canoe, cardboard, cardboard animals, cardboard modeling, cardboard sewing, carols, carrot top, celluloid butterflies, center piece, pumpkin, cereal boxes, chains, , chased by a goose, checkerboard, cherry stone game, chicken coop, chicken, easter, chicken, squash seed, child's library, the, chinese kite, chinese toy, christmas, cigar-box bedstead, cigar-box dollhouse, circle tag, classifying, , , clay, clay-pipe doll, clock, paper, clothespin doll, clothespin race, clover, four-leaf, collecting, , , color top, colors, matching, cork, cork doll, corn, corncobs, corncrib, cornhusks, cornstalks, counters for games, , , countess of the huggermuggers, counting ball, cover for medicine glass, , cradle, egg shell, cranberries, croquet with peas, cross tag, cup and ball, curtains for dollhouse, cutlery, toy, cutting paper, , darning egg, decorated note-paper, decoration day, decorative cherries, decorative leaves, designs, , , dinner souvenirs, , , dishes, tin-foil, dish-washing, distances, guessing, doll furniture, , , doll-houses, doll park, dolls, donkey game, drawing, , drums, ducking for apples, dusting, easter, easter card, , easter chicken, east indian fan, edam cheese lantern, egg-shell boat, egg-shell cradle, egg-shell game, egg-shell garden, eggs, humpty dumpty, egg-shell, to blow, egg-shells, , , eighth gift plays, elevator, toy, epaulettes, experiments with color, expression with pencil and brush, fairy tales, myths, etc., fan, , feather, corn-husk, feather flowers, felt mats, fence, , festival occasions, festoons, firecracker designs, firecracker, imitation, first gift balls, flags, flower-pot, flower rack, flowers, feather, flowers, pressing, foot-ball, egg, fortune telling, fourth of july, frieze, , fringed bon-bon papers, , furniture, , , , games and plays, , , , gift card, gifts, kindergarten, go-bang board, good luck pigs, gourds, grace hoops, grocery store, guess ball, guessing distances, hallowe'en, hammering soap, handkerchief box, hanging basket, , , hearts, history and biography books, home tasks, honey, weighing, house, cob, house, doll's, , household duties, humpty dumpty eggs, imitation water, independence day, indian head-dress, ironing, jack o'lantern, jackstones, japanese tag, key-basket, the, kindergarten materials--gifts, " " --occupations, kite, , labor day, " " dinner, " " parade, lacy valentine, lamp mats, lamp, toy, lantern, , , " toy, learning to observe, leaves, to dry and press, lentils, library, the child's, looms, man, prunes, raisins, masks, matching colors, matchsafe, , mats, , , medicine glass cover, , memorial day, merry-go-round, dolls', midnight watching, mirror, toy, money, toy, , morning glories, pressed, moving van, music books, nature books, needle case, needles, new year's bells, " " day, newspaper wrappers, numeral frame, nuts, occupations, kindergarten, oilcloth mats, oiled paper, omnibus swing, orange basket, paint-box, the, paint-brush box, painting from object, " wagons or houses, paper, paper chains, , paper cutting, , paper doll, paper folding, paper furniture, paper lanterns, paper mats, paper money, paper-weight, papering house, papers for baking pans, park for dolls, parquetry, parties, suggestions for, paste, pasteboard doll house, paste stick, path borders or markers, pea furniture, peanut animals, " doll, " party, pea pod boat, peas, peaswork, pebbles, pegboard, pencil box, pen tray, penwiper, perforating or pricking, , piano scarf, picture books, picture frames, , , picture story, pictures of seedling, pigments, pincushion, pin tray, place or luncheon cards, , , , , , , , , plays or games, plays with gifts, plumes for hat, poetry books, , pop-corn balls, pop-corn chains or festoons, , portieres, post fence, , potato horse, " race, pressed leaves, pressed morning glories, pricking, , prism, prunes, pulley, toy, pumpkin basket or center piece, races, racing tag, raffia, rafts, , rag doll, raisins, ramekin dishes, reading, , , , red pepper lantern, reins, ring toss, road roller, spool, rockets, imitation, room decorations, , rope and sandbag, rose-haw chains or rosaries, rosettes, rug design, rugs, sailboat, , , st. patrick's day, " " " dinner, st. valentine's day, " " dinner, salt, salt dishes, sand, sand table, saved from the scrap basket, scales, toy, scent bag, scissors, drawing, scrap books, screen, toy or miniature, , second gift plays, , second gift beads, seedling, drawing of, seed-markers, seeds, seventh gift, tablets, sewing, sewing basket, the, shadow game, shamrock, shells, shields, snowball, snowflakes, soap, soap box doll house, soldiers caps, etc., soldier-flowers, milkweed, spiderweb party, " valentine, spinning buttons, , sponge garden, spools, squash animals, squash seed chicken, stained glass windows, sticks, kindergarten, , stones and pebbles, stove, toy, strawberry boxes, straws, stringing, , , , , sugar scoop, suggestions for parties, sun and shadow, sunday-school helps, surprise walnuts, sweeping, sweet potato animals, sweet potato vine, swimming float, swing, omnibus, table serving, table setting, tablets, kindergarten, tag, tailless kite, target, spool, tearing paper, telephone toy, for doll house, tents, paper, thanksgiving, thimble biscuit party, threading needles, tiling, doll house, tin cans, tin-foil, top, , , tower target, spool, toy vegetables, transparency, transparent papers, tree-boxes, tunnel, paper, turnip basket, turtle, umbrella, toy, valentine party dinner, valentines, vegetable animals, vegetables, " toy, wagon, , walnut boats, " surprise, washing, washbench, cardboard, washington's birthday, water-color cups, water, imitation, waxed leaves, weaving, , weighing honey, wheels, , , windows, , wishbone doll, work box, worsted mats, yarn doll, * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious printer's errors in the original publication have been corrected without comment. inconsistencies in the author's spelling, use of hyphens and other punctuation are retained as in the original work. pages - were originally printed in two columns. for the convenience of readers of this e-publication, the two columns are represented in this version in a single column. [illustration: title page] popular amusements by rev. j.t. crane, d.d., _of the newark conference._ with an introduction, by bishop e.s. janes. "_for the commandment is a lamp; and the light is life; and reproofs of instruction are the way of life._" proverbs vi, . [illustration: decorative] _cincinnati_: hitchcock and walden. _new york_: carlton and lanahan. . entered, according to act of congress, in the year , by hitchcock & walden, in the clerk's office of the district court of the united states for the southern district of ohio. [illustration: decorative] contents. introduction. subject one of grave interest--rule of discipline--charles wesley and the ministers--the true ground--our destiny, and on what it depends--the sentiment of the methodist episcopal church--how a minister may seek recreation--how a layman--recommendation, page chapter i. recreation a good thing. city full of boys and girls, playing--play not wrong--let the children, the youth, the mature, and even the aged have their times of rest and recreation--laughter as pious as tears--how shall we play?--the world wants to play with the church, and lead us in their path--total separation neither desirable nor possible--one or the other must yield--the church can not--conscience resists--principles are in the way--the world can yield and lose nothing--the world ought to yield, chapter ii. true recreation. what is the aim of recreation?--rules that govern: . our recreations must not be immoral; . not damaging to christian reputation; . must not interfere with our duty; . must not injure health; . must not waste money; . must not waste time; . ought to improve the mind and the heart; . ought to impart pleasure, page chapter iii. the theater. said to be a good place to learn history, etc.--some plays "as good as sermons"--doubts--theater always a haunt of evil--must be so or fail--the theater that tried to be "respectable"--failure, and the causes of it--strategy and calculation--who must be pleased, and how--immodest costume an indispensable attraction--circular, and reply of actress--birds of prey--traps game for them--the fable of satan and the monk--theater can not be reformed--cage of every unclean bird--"come out of her, my people," chapter iv. horse-racing. horse a noble beast, no doubt--races prohibited by civil law--revived under new name--agricultural fair, and what may be seen thereat--ludicrous side of things--twenty gawky boys with their colts--strange man and horse--science--victory--the effect on gawky boys--reasons against horse-racing--expense--bets--fraud--riot-- villainy of all sorts--how the thing is done, and the people cheated--quotation from thomas hughes, m.p., page chapter v. base ball. the ancient and honorable way--latter-day absurdities--"great national game"--clubs; how formed--science--professional players and their salaries--expenses--the exotics challenge the cupids--game described--victory--supper--speeches--glowing account in papers--pain-killers--bubble must burst--decay--reasons against the game as now conducted--foolish exhibition--bets--cheating--waste of money--no good result of any sort, chapter vi. dancing. "dances not all alike"--bad and worse--"the german"--mere motion not wrong--the old gentleman and his exercises--imaginary scene in "happy family"--reasons against dancing: . lacks the elements of true recreation; . has a bad historic name; . inconsistent with piety; . leads to undesirable associations--evil in many ways, page chapter vii. cards, chess, and billiards. cards an old game--origin, asiatic--history--horne tooke and george iii--author confesses his want of knowledge--cards the gambler's tools--game adds nothing to mind or heart--dangerous to some--betting--reasons against card-playing--chess also ancient--origin--play a laborious nothing--wastes time--wastes brain-power--hinders mental culture--billiards--big marbles--how played--women can never become experts, and why--poor affair generally, chapter viii. novels and novel-reading. definition of a novel--a vice of the age--four maxims: . no fiction if little leisure; . only the best; . fiction to be but small part; . if any harm results, stop at once--seven reasons against common novel-reading: . wastes time; . injures the intellect; . unfits for real life; . creates overgrowth of the passions; . produces mental intoxication; . lessens the horror of crime and wrong; . wars with all piety--disciplinary rule, chapter ix. social gatherings. no list of recreations furnished, and why--one suggestion, nevertheless--the indolent have no claim--the busy need recreation--the sedentary need air and sunbeams--the active want books--the solitary require society--talk the universal recreation--social life--grand "party"--more excellent way suggested--what the fitzshoddies think--mrs. f.'s disappointment--mr. f. doubts--miss f. trembles--the reform unpopular--the author despondent in regard to it, yet firm in the faith, page chapter x. appeal to the young members of the church. word of exhortation--reasons why we should abstain from all questionable diversions: . our church has always condemned them; . solemn vows bind us; . offenses disturb our pastor and our fellow-christians; . our errors injure the unconverted; . error mars usefulness; . compromise positions hard to hold, either in argument or practice--fight on the right line, chapter xi. appeal to the church. lafayette's witty illustration of compromises--mr. bright's description of fashionable religion--compromise bad, even as a policy--the world despises a timid church--methodism has prospered--our laws strict--folly to come down now--how the worldly parson angled for an accession and caught nothing--what mr. b. said--the exact right is the strong position--hold it--let others hive the drones--where other churches stand--testimony of the presbyterians--the methodist episcopal church south--young men's christian association--the roman catholic church--the end. page [illustration: decorative] [illustration: decorative] introduction. the subject of which this book treats--"popular amusements"--is one of grave interest to the church and to society in general. the discipline of the methodist episcopal church has always required its members and probationers, as an evidence of religious earnestness, to refrain from "such diversions as can not be used in the name of the lord jesus," and also from "singing those songs or reading those books which do not tend to the knowledge or love of god." in the following passages of holy scripture, worldly amusements or pleasures are denounced by god: "he that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man." "therefore hear now this, thou that art given to pleasure, that dwellest carelessly." the consequences referred to in this quotation are stated in the following verses of the chapter. being "lovers of pleasure more than lovers of god," is classed by timothy as one of the worst attributes of wicked men. how terrible is this statement: "but she that liveth in pleasure is dead while she liveth!" consider, also, this scripture precept: "and whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the lord jesus." in view of these and like scripture utterances, how is it possible to believe that exciting, dissipating, worldly amusements are compatible with spiritual life or devotional enjoyment? the experience of multitudes corresponds with these teachings of the discipline and the bible. take this instance. on one occasion mr. charles wesley was warning the people against so-called "harmless diversions," and declared that by them he had been kept dead to god, asleep in the arms of satan, and secure in a state of damnation for eighteen years. there were three ministers present besides mr. wesley. mr. meriton cried out, "and i for twenty-five!" "and i," exclaimed mr. thompson, "for thirty-five!" "and i," added mr. bennett, "for about seventy!" these cases of christian ministers suggest how general and how baleful is the influence of these diversions. this evil, perhaps, is not peculiar to any clime or age. diversions, indeed, change with the times. the fashionable follies of the last century are now deemed matters of wonder and derision, just as the follies of our day may be laughed at a hundred years hence. but worldliness, fashion, and frivolity are always at work inventing questionable pleasures and ingenious arguments for their defense. possibly it is unreasonable to expect but one opinion as to what is allowable in the way of recreation. as there are various degrees of knowledge and piety in the church, and various degrees of conscientiousness among even those who do not profess religion, there will be conflicting opinions on the subject, one condemning what another defends, and each wondering at the scrupulousness or the laxity of his neighbor. on this, as on all other subjects, christians should judge each other charitably, but by the scripture standard. this little volume takes what i believe to be the true ground in regard to the diversions discussed in it--the only ground which is defensible in theory and safe in practice. the methodist episcopal church is strong in numbers, in wealth, and in social position. if we maintain the strict morals and the deep spirituality--and they go together--which have hitherto been our aim, we shall be in the years to come, in the hands of god, an instrumentality of unlimited power for good. if, on the other hand, we become weak in our belief and lax in discipline, the members of the church fashionable and frivolous, and the ministers doubtful and indefinite in doctrine, and feeble in utterance, we shall lose the position we have held among the churches of the lord jesus christ, and god will raise up another people to take our place and our crown. but we trust in god we shall never, as a church, be moved from our old foundation in doctrines or in morals. though worldliness and unbelief may continue to assail her, yet the church is strong in that power which overcomes the world. recently the advocates of popular amusements have been both bold and insidious. they have used the pulpit, the press, and so-called "christian associations" to propagate their views. in some cases they recommend what are considered the less objectionable diversions to prevent indulgence in the more objectionable ones--on the principle "of two evils choose the less." but in morals the lesser evil always tends to introduce the greater. the proposition, therefore, is a most mischievous one. to those individuals among us who have been disturbed in their religious convictions on this question, by the deceptive pleas of those who defend or advocate worldly amusements, this book will be found an effective helper. in it dr. crane speaks the sentiments of the methodist church. we believe the position we have hitherto held on this subject is scriptural and safe, and that, rigid as the world deems it, our disciplinary rule is wise and needful. these fashionable diversions are not necessary for the health of the body or mind, but are harmful to both. all the recreation that any pious, sensible person needs is provided in the variety of his duties, and the many and ample sources of rational enjoyment. does the studious, hardworking minister need recreation? let him find it in turning from the severe study of theology to biography, or poetry, or rhetoric, or logic? does he need a still greater change? let him take up for the time being astronomy, or geology, or history. does he need physical as well as mental relaxation and change? certainly he can find them in his pastoral work--in visiting the sick, in instructing childhood, in looking after the general interests of the church, in walking, or riding, or attending to the interests of his family, or enjoying their society. surely, here is a vast realm in which he can find rest and recreation both for soul and body, and grow wiser and better all the while. does the layman of the church need recreation as a relief from the monotonous and exhausting labors and cares that come upon him daily? let him find it in gardening, in cultivating flowers, in reading, in music, in christian activities, in domestic offices and intercourse, in social visiting, in attending instructive lectures, in attending devotional meetings. these are rational, spiritual, satisfying enjoyments. none but the weak, who think more of conformity to the world than of conformity to christ, hanker after any other. dr. crane has treated this subject clearly, methodistically, and scripturally. the book is a timely and useful addition to the literature of the church. i trust the publishers will put it in an attractive form, and that it will have an extensive circulation, do good to many souls, and bring much glory to god. [ . ] e.s. janes. new york, _june , _. [illustration: decorative] popular amusements. chapter i. recreation a good thing. "_and the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls, playing in the streets thereof._" zech. viii, . the prophet thus, as with a single stroke of his pencil, paints a beautiful picture of peace, plenty, and public security. in times of riot and wild disorder, the children are kept within doors, that they may be out of the way of harm. in time of war, children may be seen in the streets of the city; but they are there clinging in terror to the hands of their parents, and surrounded by the confusion and alarm of a population flying from the foe. when famine reigns, a few children may be found in the streets; but they are the wan, emaciated victims of hunger, who wander from their desolate homes to beg, with tears and outstretched hands, for bread. if the war or the famine continue its ravages, the number of children steadily decreases. in seasons of public calamity, little children die, as the tender blossoms of spring perish beneath the volleys of untimely hail. in the prophetic picture, therefore, the numbers of the children, their merry sports, and the public places where they are playing, all give token of the safety and prosperity of a people whom the lord protects and blesses. but if this be so, it can not be wrong for boys and girls to play. a doubt upon this point would mar the representation and destroy the force of the imagery. no, let the children play--not, indeed, without limit; not to the neglect of study, nor of such useful labor as they ought to perform; not in modes that transgress divine law, nor in the company of those who will teach them corrupt language and evil deeds: still, let the children play. let them leap, and laugh, and shout. let them have their playthings and their pets. let them not fear the sun nor the winds of heaven, though their cheeks ripen like peaches in the light and the heat, and though faces and garments occasionally show that man still retains an affinity for the dust whence he was originally taken. let the youth have their seasons of recreation. their amusements, indeed, ought to be of a higher intellectual type than those of little children. nevertheless, amusements are still lawful and expedient. let there be times when the student shall lay aside the book, and the clerk, the apprentice, and the farmer's boys and girls forget their work. let the youth, rich or poor, humble or exalted, at home beneath the parental roof, or in the employ or under the care of strangers, have their periods of rest and recreation. and if the time and the mode are wisely chosen, there will be no loss but a real gain to all concerned. the student will return to the lesson with a better courage and a clearer brain, and the fingers which are busy with the affairs of the house, the office, the shop, or the field will ply their task more nimbly. let middle life, too, immersed, as it is, in the cares and toils of this busy existence, have its hours of leisure and freedom. brain and muscles both need rest, and the burden will feel the lighter for being occasionally laid aside. industry is indeed a virtue. let every man, woman, and child have something useful to do, and do it. i would not, for one moment even, seem to defend idleness, or apologize for the follies of the aimless devotee of shallow pleasures; yet i am persuaded that not a few of our most valued workers in fields of lofty usefulness would find their heads growing gray less rapidly if they could be induced to take an occasional rest. and let the aged, also, have their recreations. it is not unbecoming for them to devote an hour, now and then, to the quiet pleasures which smooth the brow and wreathe the lip with smiles. in itself it is just as pious to laugh as to weep, and there are a great many cases where it is wiser and better to laugh. for the old and the young there are social enjoyments and recreations which brighten the passing moments and leave no shadow behind them; which send us back to the graver employments of life with a lighter heart and stronger frame. travelers sometimes tell us that of all the nations of the earth the americans have the fewest public holidays. this, if true, is not much to be regretted. a public holiday is very apt to be a public nuisance, disturbing the peace of quiet people, and multiplying temptations for the young and the thoughtless. if there are anniversaries and days of patriotic uproar, to which gunpowder and alcohol alone can do justice, it must be confessed that the multiplication of them is not desirable. moreover, if custom fails to prescribe times and modes of recreation, it leaves families and societies the freer to choose for themselves. but on what principle are we to choose our recreations? are we at liberty to follow the multitude, inquiring, not for the best reason, but the latest fashion? no intelligent christian will fail to see that he must be as conscientious in his play as in his work. ever applicable, ever authoritative, the divine deposition of the unchanging principles of justice, safety, and right, the holy law is designed for all hours of the individual life, even as it is designed for all ages of the world. the question of amusements for religious people is one of the great problems of the day. the very successes of the gospel in our own land have brought upon the church perils which were unknown in the ages when the victories of the truth were less decisive. in the apostolic age, when the world was heathen, and god's people a little flock in the midst of their enemies, every man and woman was either christian or pagan, one thing or the other; the church and the world were separated by a chasm wide and deep, and the only feelings common to both parties were distrust and aversion. again: not very many years ago, in our own community, there were few young people to be found among the members of the various churches. the gay multitude pursued their pleasures with a reckless extravagance and a giddy disregard of the realities of life which alarmed the sober-minded, and effectually repelled the conscientious. the church marched in order of battle, all eyes looking for the foe, and all weapons bared for conflict. the world, not always in the humor for direct attack, went on its own way, strong in the fancied strength of numbers, and sometimes tried to laugh, and sometimes affected to sneer at the scruples of the pious. each was a compact force, openly wearing its own uniform and arraying itself under its own banner. the antagonism was universally recognized and felt. but in our own times, and in most sections of our land, the truth has conquered. the world no longer carries on a fierce and open war against the religion of the bible. the church possesses so much worth, intelligence, wealth, and social power, that the worldly part of the community feel that it would not be wise for them to try to keep aloof from the pious and set up for themselves. on the contrary, the world deems it policy to nestle close up to the church, and in many cases it conducts itself so respectably, and is so correct in outward seeming, that it takes a sharp eye to distinguish the one from the other. not setting itself in array against the truth, but rather avowing a sort of theoretic belief of it, the world, after all, is unchanged. its eyes are blind, its heart is hard, and its aims and motives are "of the earth earthy." it wishes to walk by the side of the church, and hand in hand with it, but with steady pressure it draws in the direction of lax morality. not having received the heavenly anointing, it fails to see how "exceeding broad" the divine law is. it is constantly pleading for a larger license, a wider range of sensuous enjoyments than is consistent with the true piety which transforms and saves. thus it clings to the church, arguing, inviting, urging; and wherever to its own dull vision the path ceases to be clear, it sweeps off swiftly and invariably into the realms of darkness and danger. and the church, too, is not in haste to separate itself wholly from the large class found just outside the line of strict religious profession. we admire their intelligence and amiability, their many worthy traits of character and conduct. their companionship is pleasant, and we would like to retain it, and, therefore, we are strongly tempted, for the sake of it, to make concessions on the various moral questions in debate between us and them. another influence is silently and yet powerfully at work. unless we consent that they shall marry in the chinese style--without having previously exchanged a word or even seen each other's faces--our young people must have opportunities to get acquainted and form attachments. in making their selections they like to take a wide range of observation. a deal of skirmishing generally precedes the final conquest. the young church-member does not feel inclined to refuse the acquaintance of moral, intelligent, agreeable young people simply on the ground that they are not professors of religion. the young people of the world see that if they do not keep near the church they cut themselves off from the best portions of society. without violence no rigid lines of social separation can be drawn between the church and the general community. the two parties hold to each other, each inviting, pleading, trying to draw the other in its own direction, in the path of its own principles and tendencies. the one is ready to yield all that can be conceded without an abandonment of truth and duty; the other, like herod under the influence of john's preaching, fears, and listens, and does "many things." nor is it clear that utter separation is desirable. we can be instrumental in saving only those who are within our reach. how shall we bring others within the range of our influence, and at the same time keep wholly beyond the range of theirs? how shall we lift up others and yet not feel their weight? if we drive from us all who have failed thus far to come up to our standard, we lessen the area of our usefulness--we throw away precious opportunities to do good. the church, if faithful, is not imperiled by this antagonism of moral forces. it must show itself the more powerful of the two, and "overcome the world." surely, if truth is strong, if fixed principles of action furnish a solid fulcrum on which to place our levers, we ought to move the world, and not the world us. it follows, therefore, that if the young members of the church, and the young people just outside the line of religious profession, are to unite in social gatherings and recreations, duty demands that we stand firm, while courtesy and reason, to say nothing of still higher motives, require that others yield. no labored argument is needed to show this. the lover of frivolous pleasures can not plead that religious convictions impel him to his follies. when youthful christians fear and resist, saying, "conscience forbids," he can not reply, "_my_ conscience commands." when the christian remonstrates, saying, "to do this might imperil my soul," the other can not answer, "_not_ to do it would imperil mine." the worldly can only plead that they see no evil where others see it, and that they are ready to venture where others fear to go. thus they virtually confess that they are dull in vision and hard in heart. and so we can not come down to the level to which they would invite us. if they desire us to meet on common ground, we must be permitted to select the place. if we yield to them, we sacrifice our principles and our peace. if they yield to us, they lose, at the utmost, only a little temporary pleasure. let the worldly and the gay, therefore, say no more about our puritanic notions. they see, and ought to confess, that almost of necessity they tend to place the standard of morals too low, and that when the church and the world differ in regard to what is allowable and right, there are a thousand chances to one that the church is right and the world is wrong. if the religion of christ laid no restrictions on us which the trifling mind and the unrenewed heart felt to be unwelcome, or even burdensome, we might well suspect that it was the invention of men. [illustration: decorative] [illustration: decorative] chapter ii. true recreation. "_and let them measure the pattern._" ezekiel xliii, . what amusements, then, are rational and allowable? and to what extent may we indulge in them? we desire, before we discuss specific modes of recreation, to lay down certain general principles, and indicate what we believe to be the true method of reasoning on the subject, so that the reader, keeping these in mind, will see why we approve or condemn hereafter, even when, for the sake of brevity, the conclusion is given in few words. first of all, then, we inquire, what is the true design of recreation? the mere pleasure of the hour is certainly not the sole object at which we should aim, regardless of all other considerations. a degree of enjoyment may be desirable; and yet the temporary pleasure is not all. the true idea of rational recreation is expressed in the very name. the aim is to renew, restore, create again. it is to lay aside the more serious avocations of life for a brief space, that we may resume them with new vigor. it is to make a little truce with toil and care, that we may return to the battle with stouter hearts and keener weapons. we rest, that we may be the better prepared for work. rational recreation never loses sight of duty. it teaches us to seek, now and then, a little leisure, that we may be able to labor the harder and the longer; to be gay and merry, only that we may be the more susceptible, in its time, of all solemn, holy emotion. recreation, in the true sense of the term, is not only free from evil, but it is full of good intents, aiming, above all, to aid us in the great concerns which look beyond the horizon of the present life. we shake off care, but not conscience. we do not lay aside the service of god and take a day to ourselves, but strive to win the benediction pronounced upon "the man that feareth always." to make the discussion as practical as possible, we name eight different points of view from which we may consider any diversion proposed to us: . _our recreations should be innocent in themselves._ compared with eternal interests, present enjoyment is as dust in the balance. however exhilarating or beneficial to health the advocates of any amusement may claim that their favorite diversion is, if there be an element of wrong in it, it must be condemned without hesitation or reserve. if it involves any transgression of divine law; if it leads us to disregard the welfare of our fellow; if the pleasure is purchased by pain wantonly inflicted upon man, or beast, or bird, or insect; if it tends to render us frivolous or reckless, or in any way leaves us farther from god and heaven, less conscientious, less devotional, less tender in heart, less active and earnest in all good works, we must condemn it, no matter how fascinating it may be, no matter what may be the numbers or the social position of those who favor it. of all the poor excuses for sin, one of the poorest and meanest is the plea that we trampled on the law of god and defied his justice for the sake of amusement. . _our recreations must never be suffered to lessen our influence as followers of christ._ a good name is an element of strength. unless those around us have confidence in our sincerity, we are shorn of our moral power. no matter how clear our integrity may be in our own eyes, if we fail to convince the world of it; if we seem to be less careful of obligation, less mindful of the right than christians should be, there will be a cloud of distrust hovering about us wherever we are, and we will find ourselves shut out of some of the noblest fields of effort. the world watches our recreations as well as our more weighty employments. we need not, indeed, be governed always by the reproaches of the censorious and the complaints of the morose; still, it is never safe to be indifferent to popular opinion. even where we discover no evident wrong, we should not, for the sake of mere momentary pleasure, give ourselves to any pursuit which bears a specious name or is surrounded by doubtful associations. even in christian communities public opinion does not tend to be fanatically rigid, and we may be sure that what it condemns we will find it safe to avoid. nor should our recreations ever be of such a character as to wound our fellow-christians. it is true, you need not always be controlled by the views of this or that member of the church, who, perhaps, does not abound in the intelligence and wisdom which give weight to opinion. but what does your pastor think? if you and he differ, who is probably right? look about you. see who they are in your community who are universally acknowledged as the real disciples of christ, by whose aggregate good name the church stands in reputation. what do they think? where they doubt, you may well hesitate. even if they should seem needlessly scrupulous, you may be sure of one thing--you will not find it dangerous to follow their counsel. and you have no right to treat their admonitions with indifference. you can not, without peril, go counter to their views of duty. whatever may be the abstract right or wrong of the thing in question, this evil effect, at least, will follow your rejection of their advice: you will separate yourselves from your pious exemplars and guides; the chasm, however narrow at first, will widen with time; the society of your fellow-christians will lose its charm; the social forces which helped, more than you are aware of, to hold you to your duty will lose their power; the tempter will excite in your heart now anger at others, now doubts of yourself, and the process, unless arrested, will end in spiritual wreck and ruin. . _our recreations should never be so chosen or so pursued as to interfere with the full and faithful performance of the sober duties of life._ childhood and youth are not, as some fancy, a period of mere waiting, a sort of play spell before school begins. in regard to the success of after life, it is the hour of precious opportunities which come but once. it is the foundation upon which the whole future edifice is to rest. if a child should never learn the things which an infant one year old usually knows, he would grow up in a state of idiocy. in their very plays, as we term them, children investigate the properties of matter, acquire ease and skill in managing the bones and muscles of their own frames, and learn the contents of the great world, which is all so new to them. youth has its work, and all after excellence is connected with the industry and care with which that work is done. the mind is to be cultured, the reason exercised, the fancy curbed, the memory stored with treasure, the whole intellect disciplined and prepared for continuous, patient labor. in youth the avocation is to be chosen, the great problems of time and eternity revolved, and the solemn journey begun. he that would be wise must not dream away the golden hours in empty visions of what he would like to be, but rouse himself and prepare to encounter soberly the great duties before him. he has not a moment to lose. he must look and listen, read and remember; he must reflect, and reason, and judge; he must will and do wisely and well, and every day gather strength for other days to come. if, therefore, diversions are of such a nature, or are so pursued as to induce an idle, dreamy, inconstant frame of mind, making it an annoyance and a burden to be summoned to real work in careful thinking or patient doing, a resolute grapple with the plain responsibilities of ordinary life, something is wrong. when the imagination has outgrown the judgment, and the mind revolts at reality and delights to dwell in the realms of fancy, building destinies out of airy nothing, we can see foreshadowed, as we look into the future, only bitter disappointment and failure. . _our recreations must promote health._ health is the material of which efficient life is made. they who squander it cut short the day which god assigned them, cloud it with weakness and pain, and lessen the practical results of living. to do this willfully, deliberately, in the chase after mere pleasure, is not a small sin. our creator requires of us the wise and faithful use of the various elements of activity and power with which he has endowed us. if, then, the hours spent in what we call diversion be followed by exhaustion; if the evening of mirth be succeeded by a day in which the brow is clouded, the frame languid, the mind irritable, the whole being disordered, there has been something wrong, either in the nature of the amusement or the manner in which it was pursued. to be well and strong, if we may, is our duty. our recreations should not lessen but increase our power to will and to do. they are designed to sharpen the tools with which we work, and if the process which we adopt mars the blade our methods are bad. the value of the mode is to be estimated not merely by the present pleasure, but by the power, gained by it. if the mower in the meadow is enchanted with the rattling, ringing music which accompanies the whetting of the scythe, but at each repetition finds the edge duller than before, till finally he can not cut the grass at all, he might as well be standing among those whom "no man hath hired." . _our recreations should not be unduly expensive._ money is power. it may be made to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. it may be employed in teaching the ignorant and reclaiming those that wander. it plays an important part in all good works. he that squanders money throws away the ability to do good. he "wastes his lord's substance." in christ's description of the day of judgment, the stress is laid, not upon names, professions, and beliefs, but the tangible fruits of piety. we must beware, therefore, lest our self-indulgences tax our purse too heavily, and leave too little for good deeds. the hour is not far distant when the memory of one kind act will be to us the source of more pleasure than the recollection of all the selfish joys of a life-time. it is to be feared that some professors of religion, who lack neither opportunities nor means to do much, will make rather a poor showing at the last great day. . _recreation should never lose sight of the value of time._ time is one of god's most precious gifts. it is the material of which life is made, the field in which eternal destinies germinate, the summer in which divine things grow. we have no more right to lay plans to "kill time" than to kill ourselves. the suicide rebels against the duties assigned him by providence, deserts his post, and throws from him the years otherwise allotted him. the aimless, idle soul, without a purpose or a plan, whom no incentive can stir, and to whom life is a weariness, because there seems nothing for which to live, commits a daily suicide. wealth is no excuse for uselessness. when children play all their lives because their fathers worked hard from youth to old age, they take rather a doubtful way to honor their parents. if a man has no sober aim in life, no worthy object for which he is stirring, god will not hold him guiltless. genuine recreation harmonizes with all high and holy enterprise. it does not make us drones, living upon the stores which the working bees of the hive have accumulated, but teaches us, like the son of saul, weary and faint in the rapid pursuit of the foes of israel, to stop for a moment to taste the honey dripping in the forest, that our "eyes may brighten," and we press on with swifter feet. genuine recreation wastes no time, but, on the contrary, treasures up the golden moments with a miser's care. diversions indulged in beyond measure cease, therefore, to be recreations, and become a criminal waste of god's precious gift. . _our recreations ought to improve the mind._ they should not, indeed, burden the mental powers; nevertheless, they ought not to be childish and without meaning. there should always be enough of thought involved to keep the mind pleasantly and not unprofitably occupied. for this reason recreation is best pursued not alone, but socially. cheerful, intelligent conversation is itself one of the best of recreations. the heart is improved, the mind is roused into new vigor and fruitfulness, the thoughts are wrested away from toil and care, and smiles break through the gloom like sunshine bursting through the rifted clouds. . _our recreations should be productive of genuine enjoyment._ the very idea of recreation includes that of pleasure. if it leaves us sad or dull it fails of its true aim. it ought to make the eye bright and the cheek glow. it should have an affinity for smiles, and pleasant words, and mirthful thoughts which glance like the play of the northern aurora when the night is cloudless. it should leave memories in which there is no tinge of shame or regret. we attach importance to the innocent pleasure of the moment, because the benefit is derived in no small degree from the mind's release from its burdens. a company of school-girls, silent and prim, taking their daily march with the mechanical accuracy of soldiers, lose half the value of the air and exercise. the merchant gains little who goes on a solitary fishing excursion, and sits gazing at vacancy, with his brain full of invoices and sales, units and tens, while the fish run away with his line. let the young and the old seek suitable recreation and enjoy it, in a genial, happy, mirthful spirit. innocent mirth is neither unchristian nor undignified. if a man can not laugh, there is something the matter with him. either his morals or his liver is disordered. he needs either repentance or pills. some of earth's greatest and purest men have been noted for their mirthful tendencies. socrates often amused himself in play with children. luther loved dogs, and birds, and wit, and laughter, and by his rousing peals kept his lungs in good order for his theological wars. thomas walsh, one of the best, but not the most hilarious of men, complained that john wesley's wit and humor made him laugh more than his conscience approved; but mr. walsh died in his youth, while mr. wesley filled up the measure of eighty-eight busy, happy years. these are some of the principles which underlie the subject before us. it now remains to apply these principles to specific plans and methods of recreation. in the scales thus constructed let us proceed to weigh the various diversions and amusements which claim our suffrages. we will look first at the more public and pretentious of these candidates for our approval. [illustration: decorative] chapter iii. the theater. "_can a man take fire in his bosom and his clothes not be burned?_" prov. vii, . the theater has its apologists and advocates. it is said to be a good place to learn history, human nature, and all that. some plays are declared to be "as good as a sermon." assuming this to be true, it might not be out of place to inquire how often these good plays are performed, and how they "draw". what proportion does this good sort bear to the general mass of plays nightly set before the public? questions multiply as we consider the subject. if plays are as good as sermons, how happens it that, as a rule, those who admire plays have no love for sermons? moreover, if the theater is a preacher of righteousness, or essays to be such, where are the "gifts, grace, and usefulness" which are the evidences of its call to the good work? there may be no special lack of a certain kind of gifts, but where is the grace? does it adorn the character and conduct of the performers? unless these as a class have been grievously slandered for two thousand years, we must look elsewhere. and where is the proof of moral and religious usefulness? it has no existence. the fact is, to plead for the theater on the ground that its moral influence is good, is to act a bigger farce than was ever put upon the stage. when a young man, who has been religiously trained, begins to frequent the theater, quiet observers see that he has taken the first step of a downward course; and if connected with him in business relations, or otherwise, they govern themselves accordingly. when a young man, whose reputation has suffered by his wild and reckless conduct, ceases to attend the play and begins to attend church, his true friends begin to have hope in regard to him. all who have in any degree looked into the matter, know that the disreputable and the vile shun the church, and crowd to the theater, while many who are plying foul trades depend upon the play-house, not only to bring the victim within their reach, but to undermine his virtue, lull his caution to sleep, and prepare him to fall in the net spread for him. build a theater where you will, and straightway drinking saloons, gambling dens, and brothels spring up all about it and flourish under its shadow. all manner of vice, and villainy, and shame grows green and rank in the polluted soil which it creates. some years ago, the owners of a certain theater in one of our great cities, resolving to conduct it in a "respectable" way, attempted to shut out, as far as practicable, all whose vocation was infamous. this they thought would be easily effected by refusing admittance to every "lady not accompanied by a gentleman." this simple measure accomplished all that was expected of it, and a great deal more. the class aimed at were indeed excluded; but, alas for the proprietors! the consequent loss of patronage was so great that the establishment no longer paid current expenses, and the owners found themselves compelled either to close their doors altogether or open them to the cattle that herd in the upper galleries. the fact is plain to all who are willing to see, that the theater thrives by the vice and crime of the community. it is a buzzard that lives on carrion. to succeed it must be content to be the hunting-ground where infamy shall snare its victims, and lead them "as an ox to the slaughter." more than this, the performances and the whole arrangement must be adapted to the low moral level of an audience gathered up from the particular quarters where alone patrons can be found in sufficient numbers to make the play-house a paying institution. a successful theater must be on good terms with the grogshop and the brothel. the whole thing is one of strategy and calculation. as the skillful angler puts on his hooks the bait at which the fish will bite most eagerly--no matter what it is, worm or bug, or artificial fly--so the crafty manager of a theater surveys society, and considers what plays, what style of acting, what style of dress among the actors and actresses will most surely attract the crowd. he is aware that the really religious portion of the community regard the church and the theater as antagonists, and look upon him as one who is laboring to undo all that they are trying to accomplish. he knows that many people of culture and high social position regard his profession as dishonorable and degrading. these classes he leaves out of his calculation, because they are beyond his reach. but a great multitude remain, composed, in part, of the young and the heedless, fond of noise, and show, and excitement, and in part of the corrupt and the vile, the hungry beasts and birds of prey, who want victims. among these he must find his patrons and his profits. in aiming to gather them into his fold, he must gratify their peculiar taste. he knows that he can please them only by keeping them well pleased with themselves. will he do this by means of plays which, from the first line to the last, brand vice as infamous, and exalt virtue and honor? he knows his calling better. the people who compose his audiences do not come to the theater to be made ashamed of themselves. they would not listen to such a play, but would go out of the house, in the midst of the performances, angrily muttering that when they want a sermon they will go to the church for it. the manager must set forth more savory viands. he must address himself to empty minds and cater to animal passions. he that undertakes to feed a flock of crows need not provide either the manna of the scripture or the nectar and ambrosia of which classic fable tells. as the calculations of an almanac are made for the particular latitude where it is expected to sell, so all the arrangements and appliances of the theater are carefully adapted to those classes of society which are low both in intelligence and in morals. tragedy, to be popular, must not only deal in crime, but in loathsome, nauseous crime. popular comedy must ridicule religion, and show how much better acute and crafty villainy is than simple truth and innocence. immodesty is one of the attractions relied upon to draw the brutal herd. the female performers on the stage must expose their persons in a style which would be branded as grossly indecent anywhere else. let a fact be stated in illustration. one of the high officers of the municipal government of london recently issued a circular, addressed to the proprietors and managers of the various theaters, remonstrating against the indecent costumes of the stage, and urging reform. what the effect of the appeal was upon the parties addressed does not appear; but an actress replied, in one of the public journals, declaring that she is aware of all that the circular asserts, but affirming that she and all the female performers are powerless in the case, the managers demanding the immodest costume as one of the necessities of the drama. it is not probable that the british stage is more corrupting and immoral than the american. there is not a city on the face of the globe where the theater can live unless it goes down into depths of infamy, and becomes the panderer of all vice and shame. it is true that a few, whom the world calls moral and respectable, are sometimes found at the play-house, but they are so few that play-writers and stage managers, having an eye to the financial receipts and successes, look in other directions, and graduate the plot, and the sentiments, and the scenes, and, above all, the costume of the performers, for a lower moral level. not seldom is the play itself a weak, unmeaning thing, which is intended to serve merely as a pretext for the shameless exhibitions deemed necessary in order to fill the house. the theater will never be reformed. the truly refined despise it, the wise and the good abhor it. it must find its support among the thoughtless, the ignorant, and the vicious. it must be indecent or die. and so it comes to this: immodesty is a part of the stock in trade of the play-house. there must be indecent exposure, else the foul crew that frequent the theater, and upon whose patronage it lives, will care nothing for its performances. in vain is the genius of poets and authors! in vain are all the tinsel glories of the show! even the play which is "as good as a sermon" will be a failure, and its lofty periods be declaimed to an empty house, unless modesty and honor are sacrificed to gratify the lowest passions of the most debased of human kind. where did any evil invention of man ever bear upon its front the stamp of infamy in plainer, deeper lines? why, then, should those who believe in virtue sustain, or help to sustain, that which can not exist at all except in alliance with vice and shame? how can those who believe in god and love his cause aid this engine of the devil? do they know how valuable their help is, and at what a price the engineers are willing to purchase even their silence? when the infamous classes of society find themselves the only occupants of the theater, they will be apt to abandon it. it will not then serve their purpose. rats can not live in an empty barn. thieves can not live by robbing each other. the seller of alcohol can not prosper long by selling to the same set of customers. as soon as the drunkard has lost all, his very presence becomes hateful to the man who has ruined him. a whisky-shop resembles a college, in that it needs a class of freshmen to replace every class that graduate. and so with all forms of vice; they need a constant supply of new victims. when one set of unfortunates have been picked to the bone others must be had. and thus the theater is a valuable auxiliary to certain characters, seeing that it brings their prey within their reach. how, then, can a christian hesitate one moment in regard to duty? by what blindness, by what mode of self-delusion, can virtuous women be induced to patronize an institution which lives on the ruins of virtue? how can they sit among the spectators, and look upon wanton exhibitions and shameless exposures of person, such as would anywhere else crimson every modest cheek with shame or redden it with the consciousness of insult? how can they sit among the crowd, while eager eyes are looking down wolfishly upon the brother, the lover, or the husband who sits by their side, and foul hearts are wondering whether he ever comes to this place alone, and whether he is beyond the reach of their subtle arts? how can virtuous women consent ever to set foot within the walls of a theater, when they know that the very air is thick with infamy and death, and when every one who sees them there knows that they know it? there is an old story to this effect: an angel, flying on some errand of mercy, met satan, who was dragging away a monk, clad in full canonicals. the angel stopped the adversary, and demanded the release of the prisoner, saying that his very robes showed that he was a holy man, to whom satan could have no claim. "but he is mine," was the emphatic reply. "i found him on my premises; i caught him at the theater!" even heathen moralists and philosophers have condemned the stage as tending to corrupt public morals. this was the ground taken by plato, seneca, and cicero, two thousand years ago. the early christian writers, the fathers of the church, denounced the theater. it is safe to say that the piety and intelligence of the church have always condemned it. john wesley, the founder of our church, gave his judgment in no equivocal terms: "the present stage entertainments not only sap the foundation of all religion, but tend to drinking and debauchery of every kind, which are constant attendants on these entertainments." truly, the play-house is no place for a follower of christ. like the babylon of the revelator, it is "_the hold of every foul spirit,_ _and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird_." and so we add the warning uttered by "_another voice from heaven," "come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues_." even if the plays could be so far reformed as not directly to cater to the vicious and the corrupt; if the foul birds of prey that perch aloft could be driven from the nests which they have occupied so long, still the theater would not be a good place of resort for those who feel that they possess immortal souls. the late hours, the expense of time and money, the character of the general audience, and the insensible and yet powerful effect of contact with them; the premature development and overgrowth of the passions, the distaste created for the quiet pleasures which are safest and best for soul and body, the rapidity with which the love of noise, show, and excitement becomes an overmastering passion, too strong to be controlled by duty, conscience, parental authority, or parental remonstrances and tears, conspire to render attendance at the theater ruinous to many and dangerous to all. let no christian go to the play-house even once. if the patronage of those who go but once, "just to see how it looks," could be wholly withdrawn, all the theaters would feel the loss, and some would be compelled to close their doors. why should you make even one contribution to keep in motion the remorseless jaws which have devoured so many victims? why should you lend your example, even once, to encourage the inconsiderate and the inexperienced to form the habit of attending the theater? why consent to act, even once, as decoy duck, to lure many, it may be, to their destruction? [illustration: decorative] [illustration: decorative] chapter iv. horse-racing. "_and so shall be the plague of the horse._" zech. xiv, . the horse is, doubtless, a noble beast; but, by some strange fatality, all sorts of thieves and cheats gather round him while living, as do the hungry crows when he is dead. horse-racing may claim a place among popular amusements, since there is probably nothing, except an execution, more certain to attract a crowd. in many of the states of the union horse-racing has been prohibited by law, because of the numberless evils connected with it, and the total absence of good. within a few years, however, the thing has been revived under another name. state and county fairs are now held for the encouragement of agriculture, and specimens of various farm products are exhibited to edify the novice and quicken the zeal of the ambitious cultivator. horses, of course, form a prominent feature of these exhibitions. but a horse can only be half seen till he is seen in motion, and so little "trials of speed," as they were delicately termed, were given just to add a little interest to the show. these trials of speed usurped more and more time and space, until they have in many cases swallowed up every thing else, and brought back the old-style horse-race, with its crowds, excitement, villainy, and vice of every kind, and, in fact, every thing but the name. an "agricultural fair" now means a plow, a pumpkin, a pig, and two hundred and fifty trotting horses. these fairs are almost invariably conducted with especial reference to the racing, and not unfrequently are engineered wholly by the jockeys themselves. it will hardly do for us to adopt the sneering philosophy of democritus, and find nothing but matter of merriment in the sins and follies of our fellow-men; nevertheless, these annual country gatherings have a comic side which one must be very blind not to see. the first note of preparation is the posting of immense placards, printed in as many colors as ever joseph's coat knew, and offering premiums--ten cents for the best plow, five cents for the biggest pumpkin, twenty cents for the fattest pig, and one thousand dollars for the horse that can trot around a certain circle in the shortest time. every gawky boy who rejoices in the possession of a long-legged colt, reads the flaming proclamation with delight, and straightway redoubles his diligence in training his colt and himself for the grand occasion. when the eventful day comes he presents himself on the spot, sure of winning the prize, and of seeing his name exalted in the county paper next week. he finds nineteen other gawky individuals there with, nineteen other colts and the same ambitious expectations. when they have paid their proportion of the money which is to become the prize, and have entered in a book the names of their horses--names, by the way, to devise which has cost many severe mental efforts--a strange man writes the name of a horse never before heard of in that locality. the contest proceeds. the strange man, who had been so still and taciturn up to this moment, suddenly discloses amazing energy, and shows himself an adept in all that pertains to the important business in hand. he knows tricks that make the astonished rustics open their eyes wide with admiration and dismay. he confuses his competitors with his bewildering maneuvers, secures every advantage, and urges on his own nag with a clamor and an uproar which drive the others into unlawful paces, or make them bolt from the track altogether. in short, science distances unsophisticated nature. the strange man and the strange horse sweep around the circle and rush to the goal in triumph, while the twenty are seen struggling far in the rear, a miserable conglomerate of dust, disappointment, and profanity. meanwhile, the half-dozen secret confederates of the successful jockey have been quietly mingling with the crowd, betting with all who were willing to risk their money, and, of course, winning every time. thus the concourse divide into three classes, like the notes in music; the _naturals_ stare, the _flats_ are fleeced, the _sharps_ win. the performance being over, the professionals joyfully divide the spoil, praising with infinite glee "the way it was done," and venting their irrepressible hilarity in stentorian laughter and clumsy imitations of indian war-dances. the victims return home, the wiser ones satisfied with their recent experience, and determined to sell their sulkies and break their horses to the plow. the fools, on the other hand, are sure that now they know all about it. they have seen a professor of high art, and burn with ambition to be like him. they buy little caps of the same pattern, stick their hands in their pockets as nearly as possible in his style, and converse only in the phrases current in the stable. their manners, as well as their clothes, smell strong of the horse. they devote their whole minds to the cause. they know more about the last race than the last war, and are more familiar with the names of fast trotters than with those of our great statesmen and generals. they can explain the pedigree of some favorite nag in a more satisfactory manner than they can their own, and take more pride in it. the tavern is the school where they pursue their professional studies, and the sages of the bar-room and the philosophers of the barn are their instructors. in some cases idleness, low company, and drink produce their natural fruit; the property inherited from the dead or dishonestly obtained from the living is soon squandered, the victim graduates as hostler, and, like some devotee of olden time, consecrates himself, soul and body, to the service of the brute which he admires. in others, the aspirant really reaches the high eminence at which he aims, and becomes a first-class cheat, learned in horse-craft and equally wise in the art of deceiving men--a restless operator in his chosen line of business, whose advent in a neighborhood is a signal for all to be on their guard, and at whose departure people breathe more freely. the "sports of the turf," as they are called, are a mere compound of fraud and folly. betting is the soul of horse-racing, and a thievish desire to get money without earning it is the soul of betting. how many "trials of speed" would there be if, by some method which man has never yet discovered, betting on the results could be wholly prevented? vice in all its forms--gambling, drunkenness, lying, cheating, profanity, rioting, and fighting--are the natural adjuncts of every race-course. human birds of prey flock to it from under the whole heavens, and gorge themselves to the full. and with all this evil it has not one redeeming feature. as an amusement it is essentially low and animal. if two horses run a race, any body who is not an idiot knows that in all probability one will come out ahead of the other; and who but an idiot will care which it is? what matters it whether a horse that belongs to some branded swindler can go a mile in three minutes or two? why should people leave their useful employments, and assemble in thousands, from far and near, merely to see one horse beat another horse? the whole thing is senseless. while there is not a single solid argument in its favor, there are numerous and weighty objections against horse-racing. it involves a fearful waste. a race-horse is more expensive to keep than a family of ten children. the spectators who crowd to see the race lose time and money. the betting, inseparable from the affair, opens the floodgates of a deluge of fraud and falsehood. it fires the hearts of the ignorant and inexperienced with that dangerous temptation, a thirst for money which they have not earned. the sudden losses and gains rouse the passions, and lead to collisions, fierce and furious, between losers and winners. the vender of intoxicating drinks will be there, for he knows that his chances are best when there is most of uproar and excitement. the professional pickpocket and the gambler will be there, for they know that the crowds will yield them a rich harvest of ill-gotten gain. the public roads in the vicinity of the race-ground will be dangerous to quiet travelers, by reason of the multitude of vehicles which dash along furiously, the drivers crazy with excitement and drink, and the horses wild with the shouting and the lash. and children will be there, their sensitive natures receiving impressions every moment, their eyes becoming accustomed to scenes of vice, and their ears familiar with the voice of passion and profanity. the members of the church of christ should never be seen at such places. if one of them attending a horse-race should die there, by casualty or sudden disease, would it be considered good taste to name the locality in the funeral discourse? would it figure well in the published obituary? the path of duty is so plain that none need err. let no one, for a day or an hour, leave the rock and plunge into this abyss of fraud and folly. besides the open, visible evils which cluster about a horse-race, there are great gulfs of villainy which few know of, and yet by which many suffer. not seldom is the matter of victory and defeat secretly arranged days and weeks before the race takes place, and the men who make the treacherous compact win their tens of thousands by betting in favor of the horse which it is agreed shall distance the others. the habit of betting is a vice which speedily destroys all truth and honor. no amusement, so called, which lives by betting will long retain even the semblance of honesty. horse-racing is certainly not an exception to this rule. its whole history is black with treachery and fraud. no professed follower of christ can have any thing to do with it, either in the way of active agency or secret encouragement, without sin. we can not close this chapter more appropriately than by quoting the emphatic words of thomas hughes, an able member of the british parliament and a decided friend of the american republic. he had seen in the public journals the statement that certain capitalists of new york were about to establish somewhere on the hudson a race-ground, which they hoped would, in time, rival the doubtful "glories of epsom and ascot:" "heaven help you! then; for of all the cankers of our old civilization there is nothing in this country approaching in unblushing meanness, in rascality holding its head high, to this belauded institution of the british turf. "it is quite true that a very considerable section of our aristocracy is on the turf, but with what result? shall a man touch pitch and not be defiled? there is not a man of them whose position and character has not been lowered by the connection, while in the majority it ends in bringing down their standard of morality to that of blacklegs, and delivering over their estates into the grasp of jew attorneys. "the last notable instance among our _jeunesse doree_ is that of the duke of hamilton, who succeeded to a clear £ , a year, some three years ago, and who is now a pensioner of his creditors in the ring, while the old palace of the douglas is at the order and disposition of the celebrated mr. padwick. this gentleman, at his derby dinner this year, entertained three dukes, two marquises, and six earls, and i believe there was only one untitled man at the board--all of these under the thumb or anxious to cultivate the esteemed favors of this 'giver of all good things.' just consider for one moment what our modern system of betting has brought us to. a reliable _tip_ is that which the most scrupulous young gentleman on the turf desires above all other earthly blessings before a great race; that is to say, some private information which may enable him to overreach his dearest friend or his own brother, if he can induce him to take the odds." [illustration: decorative] chapter v. base ball. "_and the people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play._" exodus xxxii, . base ball may be made a very pleasant amusement, wholly unobjectionable either in regard to health or morals. many of our readers well remember how it used to be played by the village school-boys. two of the best players volunteered, or were elected by acclamation, to organize the two "sides." the leaders tossed up a bat, with a mark on one side of it, to determine the first choice. the winner looked around the circle of boys and made his selection; then the other leader named a boy for his side, and so it went on, by alternate selections, till all were enrolled. the bat was again tossed up, to determine who should be "in" first, and then the play began. how they knocked the ball, and ran and threw the ball at each other, and fell down in their eagerness to avoid being hit, and laughed and shouted, and grew hot, and red, and finally weary! no crowd of excited spectators were there to applaud special acts of skill, and thus spoil the sport; no "scorer" noted down in his book the number of "runs" or of "fly-catches;" no representative of the public press was there, to prepare an extended and eloquent report, confounding simple readers with his vocabulary of new terms; no body inquired which side was victorious, and all were happy. and in these later days, if a score of young men or older men would provide a basket of refreshments, and go out into the fields by themselves and play two or three hours, in the ancient and honorable way, carelessly, hilariously, not even noticing who makes the most "runs," they would all feel the better the next day; and the wit and humor elicited on the occasion would echo in twenty home circles for weeks to come. but since it attained the dignity of being our "national game," base ball has become a ponderous and elaborate affair. rules as rigid as those which govern the proceedings of the congress of the united states are fixed, by general councils of men learned in the art, and goodly volumes are published discussing the size, shape, and weight of balls and bats, and determining the proper distances between the bases. associations are formed, who assume a name, devise a uniform, and have initiation fees and monthly dues. the formation of the club, the selection of the members, is a very serious business, involving, as it does, the fortunes of the fame of the association in its future contests for championships and newspaper honors. young men are in demand who are willing to devote their whole time and mental energies to the acquisition of dexterity in throwing a ball or catching it. professional players are found, who are recruited from that idle, shiftless, and yet ambitious class of mortals who are ready to work with the energy of giants one day in the week at any useless task, provided they have the privilege of lounging about the other six days, boasting of their feats and basking in the admiration of all the little boys in the neighborhood. these professionals train as carefully as prize-fighters, and are, in fact, the same style of men drawn mild. in some cases they hire themselves to the club for a single exhibition game; in others, they engage for the season. their pay is ridiculously high, considering the service rendered. we hear of a club that secured one player for a thousand dollars for the season. another player was induced to change his residence from one city to another, and was set up by his employers in a store, with a stock costing fifteen hundred dollars, by way of securing his valuable aid on great occasions. when the club is organized, there must be daily practice for the benefit of the novices. this is done often to the neglect of every thing else, to the sore annoyance of parents and employers, and when a good degree of skill is supposed to be gained another club, fifty or five hundred miles away, is invited to meet in friendly contest. the newspapers announce that the exotics have challenged the cupids, name the time and the place, and express an ardent hope that the weather will be propitious. the eventful day arrives; "play is called," and the contest proceeds with all spirit and vigor. they pitch, they bat, they run, they pant, they grow red in the face, they perspire, they strain their muscles and rend their garments in superhuman effort. the scorers set down their marks, the reporters of the public press scratch away at their notes, the spectators applaud. intense excitement characterizes the entire performance. there is no brain power to spare on pleasantries, no surplus breath to waste in laughter. awkward episodes occur. a head is broken by an erring bat, or a finger by a ball, or two players, running with upturned faces and outstretched hands to catch the same descending ball, rush together with a fearful thump, and fall backward in collapse. perhaps proceedings are still further diversified by the occurrence of a little fight. the game in due time ends, and one party or the other is declared victors by so many "runs," and the winners and the losers adjourn to a hotel and refresh themselves with a supper, of which wine-bibbing generally forms a prominent feature. speeches, too, are made by the talking members of each club, expressive of the most intense admiration of each other's prowess, and breathing unutterable friendship. the reporter, who has been presented with a complimentary ticket for this very purpose, takes notes of what is said and done, and the next morning the newspaper lays before an admiring world the important intelligence that "the pitching of the cupids was superb, the batting of the exotics was magnificent, the fielding of jones and smith elicited universal applause, the supper was all that an epicure could desire, and the wit and eloquence of mr. brown's speech were equaled only by the beauty and pathos of mr. jenkins' reply." while an agitated world is laboring with this startling announcement, the principal performers stay at home and rest, or limp wearily out to the apothecary's to make investments in pain-killers and strengthening plasters. and this, forsooth, is the great national game. it has scarce a single feature of real recreation. the overwrought excitement, the excessive physical exertion, the absence of mental ease and conversational freedom condemn it. the publicity of the performance destroys all the good that might otherwise result from it, and, instead of play, makes it a mere exhibition, whose aim is not rest but notoriety, and whose effect upon the performer is not physical renewal but exhaustion. the game itself is not in fault. in its simple forms, pursued in moderation, with right associations, as a recreation, and not as an ambitious show, it can be heartily recommended to young men who need some active outdoor amusement. it may thus be made a very pleasant and not unprofitable thing. in its preposterous form, inflated into a "great national game," it is very laborious, very expensive in time and money, and not altogether safe for soul or body. it is then not an amusement, but a pretentious and useless display, whose highest reward is the shallow applause of the idle and the vain. it may be hazardous to one's reputation for sagacity to predict the downfall of any fashionable thing on the ground that it lacks the basis of good sense; still, i will say that the modern bubble has been blown so big, that it seems to me that it must collapse before long. if i mistake not, there are already signs of decay. many young men, whose names are on the roll decline to play, and are active members of the club only at the supper-table. they pay their share of the expense of public games, and attend, but find it pleasant and politic to perch themselves daintily on the fence, to smoke and applaud in the shade, while their hired substitutes do the hard work in the hot sun. in due time the novelty of the whole thing will be gone, and then comes the end. but if its having become an overgrown piece of folly were the only charge which may be made against it, base ball, even as cultivated by the clubs, might survive for a time. the expense is not in its favor. we know of a club where the regular annual dues are twelve dollars for each member. besides this there is an initiation fee to be paid by beginners, and i presume extra expenses for extra occasions. the club has a hundred and fifty members, and the aggregate of regular dues can not be less than two thousand dollars a year. no doubt there are clubs whose annual expenditure amounts to three times the sum named. this certainly is a liberal price to pay for all the good gained. there is, however, a much worse objection to base ball than the waste of money. the vices which cluster about the race-course begin to haunt the ball-ground. thievish men find that bets can be made, and money lost and won, at a ball match as well as at a horse-race, and the same frauds and stratagems are employed. sometimes money to the amount of fifty or even a hundred thousand dollars is staked on the result of a single match. men do not need to bet large sums many times before they are ready for any trick, however infamous, which will enable them to win. we have seen, in a former chapter, how a horse-race is sometimes secretly sold beforehand, the parties to the fraud betting accordingly, and winning every thing. the same thing is not unknown, i am told, among the ball clubs. a match is in contemplation. a club of "champions" challenge another champion club, and all possible appliances and devices are employed to attract attention, draw a crowd, and create an excitement. while the rivals are apparently burning with intense desire for victory, and determined to contend for it with heroic energy, a few members of the clubs, without the consent or knowledge of the rest, agree so to manage that the victory shall go in a certain direction, and for a share of the spoils thus surrender the one side to premeditated defeat, and crown the other with false laurels. i have heard of one case, where a match game was played and many bets were pending, and interested parties secured a given result by paying the moderate sum of three hundred dollars. in fact, so many vices are beginning to gather about the "great national game," as some foolishly term it, that every one connected with it seems to be regarded with a degree of suspicion. merchants and others, who employ numbers of young men, are doubtful about members of ball clubs, and reject candidates who are connected with them. this looks a little hard, but we must remember that business men want reliable, trustworthy clerks, salesmen, and book-keepers. when we are trying to learn the character of a stranger every hint is of value, and a thing about which so many things cluster can not be a recommendation. [illustration: decorative] [illustration: decorative] chapter vi. dancing and balls. "_they send forth their little ones like a flock, and their children dance._" job xxi, . let us now turn from outdoor diversions to those amusements which do not, of necessity, demand daylight and space for their cultivation. dancing is one of these; and as attempts are being made at the present time to introduce it into circles whence it has hitherto been rigidly excluded, we honor it with the first place in this part of the discussion, and propose to give it all due attention. it is presumed that the advocates of dancing will insist, at the outset, that we shall make a distinction among the various fashionable dances of the times. it is not probable that any reader of this volume will attempt to defend the "german," or round dances. it is a shameful, revolting spectacle to see a young girl whirling around in the arms of a man who perhaps an hour ago was an utter stranger to her, her head leaning upon his breast, and their whole persons in closest contact. this style is positively immodest, corrupting, offensive to morals, as well as to delicacy and refinement. how dare a young man propose any such performance to a lady for whom he has a shadow of respect? how can any young lady, who respects herself, submit to it? but cotillons and quadrilles, we are told, are different; they are modest, graceful, and harmless. doubtless there is a difference, and yet they differ only as the varioloid differs from the worse disease. it is not necessary to prove that the mere motion is sinful in order to condemn it; nor need we assail the personal character of all who plead for dancing, in one form or another, as an innocent amusement. the abstract possibility of its being so practiced as to render it a healthful exercise may be admitted. i am acquainted with a gentleman of more than three-score years and ten, whose erect form and happy face, ruddy with health and radiant with kindness and inward peace, are pleasant to see. meeting him in the street one day, i asked him how he managed to be young when he was old--how he contrived to keep up the life and bloom of spring amid the chill winds and gathering clouds of winter. in reply, he alluded reverently to the divine master, whom he serves in gladness of heart, as the source of all blessing, and then added: "i take care of my health. i take exercise. i rise early in the morning, and among the very first things that i do i put on a pair of soft slippers, go up into the attic of my house, and then go round and round in a circle, on a gentle run, till i am in a pleasant glow. this makes me feel well and cheerful all day." now, if any advocate of dancing will practice it only as our aged friend practices his peculiar exercise, we bring no accusation against his sanitary measures; we have no controversy with his principles or his performances. we will even go so far as to confess the beauty of certain fancy pictures of innocent dancing in the family circle, wherein one daughter presides at the piano, and the rest of the children whirl about in their graceful evolutions, till father and mother feel the happy contagion, and, starting up, join in the mirth; and even the white-haired grandsire looks on admiringly, and keeps time with his best foot, and applauds with his cane, and then calls the household to order for evening prayers. we do not happen to know any "happy family" where devotion and dancing live together on such excellent terms; nevertheless, extraordinary things do occur in the world, and this may possibly be among them. but all this does not shake the settled conviction that it would be unwise to cultivate dancing of any sort as an amusement, or even to tolerate it. the reasons upon which this conclusion is based are numerous and weighty. . _dancing as it is usually practiced, and will continue to be practiced, if at all, lacks the elements of true recreation._ it is folly to talk of sending children to dancing schools, and then confine their performances to the family circle. dancing is essentially an exhibition which addresses the eye of the spectator, and craves admiration. it tends directly to cultivate the love of display and of the praise which it elicits, a passion as avaricious in its way as the miser's greed of gold. introduce dancing generally, and of the youth who attain a degree of proficiency not a few will soon tire of the approval of the little circle, and thirst for the applause of the multitude. they who imagine that they have acquired a grace and a skill which can not fail to win the praises of all beholders, will not be content to hide their light under the bushel of home, and soon the performances in the private parlor will be considered of no account, except as rehearsals for more public displays, and the ball-room will be looked upon as the proper field where artistic ambition is to win its laurels. and in this form dancing is detrimental to soul and body. the late hours which it involves are a fatal objection to it. the confined atmosphere in which it is practiced is injurious. the style of the refreshments common on such occasions, and the untimely hour when they are taken, increase the evil. the undue excitement exhausts instead of invigorating the vital powers. the sudden transitions from the heated ball-room to the chill night air are not safe, as many an early grave can testify. these things conspire to make a ball or a dancing party a direct attack upon the health of those who attend it. instead of invigorating the weak, it requires vigor to endure the exhausting strain. a single night thus spent will make its visible mark upon the face. they who escape with the least injury are languid and dull, and perhaps irritable, for days afterward, while some are totally unfitted for their usual avocations, and require time to recover, as if from an attack of illness. while physical health is thus impaired or imperiled, there is no promise of mental or moral improvement to compensate the injury. there is no time for rational conversation, and any attempt in that direction would be deemed out of place. the liveliest imagination can see no moral good in the performance. the whole thing produces no higher pleasure than engine-boys feel while running in search of the fire; and in the matter of aching heads and low spirits, it is probable that those who run with the engine and those who attend the ball are about alike the next day. . _dancing has had a historic name._ there was, indeed, in ancient times, a solemn religious ceremony, which, through the poverty of human language, was called dancing. when pharaoh and his host sank into the depths of the sea, while israel stood safe upon the shore, miriam and her maidens came forth with timbrels and with dances, and sang to the lord a lofty anthem of praise and thanksgiving. when david brought home the ark of god he danced before it; but it was a strictly religious ceremony, nothing like the caperings and curvetings of our own day. there is no intimation whatever that miriam and her maidens, or david, ever danced except on such occasions. pleasure dances have been almost universally held in bad repute. the daughter of herodias danced to please herod, as he sat at the banquet, bewildered with wine; but the performer was one who could lightly ask for the life of an innocent man and a devoted servant of god; and the royal spectator was a tyrant, who could carelessly order his execution. in rome, and athens, and ephesus the dancing was done by the degraded and the vile, who employed it as a means of advertising their profession. the dancers of egypt and india at the present day are of the same character. now, i do not know that it would be right for me to denounce indiscriminately all who perform publicly in places of amusement in our cities and towns, yet it is safe for me to say that a dancing girl, however loudly her fame may be trumpeted by the newspapers, finds her professional reputation every-where a bar to her reception into good society. why should it be so? it certainly is not because of the mere publicity of professional life. if it were, then miss dickinson and miss evans, and scores of others, would find themselves in the same condemnation, instead of being honored and applauded. why a female public lecturer should be respected, and a female public dancer despised and shunned, i can not understand, unless there is something in dancing itself, or in the character of those who have made it their profession, that has merited condemnation. ladies of the highest respectability go to hear the lecturer, and at the close crowd around the desk to be introduced to her; other ladies, certainly no more scrupulous in regard to their associations, go to see the dancer perform, and the next day will not look at her in the street. what makes the difference? will the apologist for dancing explain? . _a love for dancing parties and balls is universally deemed inconsistent with the seriousness and devotion which characterize a true christian._ dancing is regarded as the favorite diversion of the vain and the frivolous. nominal christians may be found at balls and dancing assemblies, but they are persons who have no weight of christian character, and exert no influence in favor of religion. the world, unconvicted and careless, rather likes such professors of religion, because their example is an opiate wherewith to quiet an occasional pang of conscience. the worldly and the prayerless think more favorably of themselves and of their prospects of heaven when they see that church members resemble them so closely. but when the worldly man is convinced of sin, and desires to find pardon, he never sends for one of these unfaithful professors to give him spiritual counsel. when the wicked are about to die, they do not want prayer offered at their bedside by any of these fiddling, dancing, wine-bibbing, honorary members of the church. they name men and women of undoubted piety. they suspect those who can join them in their follies and feel no condemnation. they do not estimate very highly a christian profession which exerts so little control over those that make it. nay, rebuke a scorner for his sins, and in many cases he will seek to defend himself by a sneering allusion to those very professors of religion who verily believe that they were making capital for their church by showing that it can not be suspected of being "puritanic." . _dancing involves undesirable associations._ we bring no indiscriminate accusations against those who love to dance. in almost every community where it is cultivated to any great extent, it will not be confined to any particular class nor to any one moral level. still, if we are to tell the whole truth, it must be stated that dancing prevails less as you ascend the scale of virtue, intelligence, and religion, and more as you go down to explore the realms of ignorance and vice. however numerous and, after their fashion, respectable its votaries may be, there is a line above which it never prevails. like the deluge in the days of noah, it fills the valleys first, and covers the low places; but, unlike the deluge, there are elevations which the swelling waters never reach, heights upon which the dark tide never shows even its spray. in our great cities, those sections which are recognized as the homes and dens of vice and degradation, the very region and shadow of death, abound in dance-houses; and the sound of the violin and of many trampling feet mingles nightly with the noise of rage and blasphemy, and the hoarse clamor of bloody strife. intemperance and infamy are foul birds which agree well in the same nest with dancing. but as you ascend the scale, not only the more gross forms of vice, but the dance is left behind long before you reach the highest altitudes. the devotedly pious, the truly pure in heart, do not dance. in all ages of the church such spirits have always kept aloof from the follies of their times, and had "no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness." they who give themselves to this amusement, therefore, turn away from the best examples of pure and undefiled religion, and the noblest, holiest fellowship within their reach. they ally themselves with the worldly, the thoughtless, the prayerless, the gay butterflies of fashion and soulless pleasure. they throw themselves among influences in the highest degree unfavorable to sober views of life, and the earnest, thorough performance of its great duties. they voluntarily leave the rock and the shore of safety to launch upon a treacherous stream, the rippling music of whose waters will soon cease, and the bloom of whose flowery banks will soon disappear, and whose current, silent but swift and strong, bear them steadily away from light and hope down to despair, remorse, and ruin. dancing wastes time, wastes health, scatters serious thought, compromises christian character, leads to entangling associations with frivolous minds and careless hearts. it is as sure a foe to intellectual growth as to moral progress. young people who are famed as "beautiful dancers" are generally good for nothing else. the time that should be devoted to something valuable is spent in practicing posture-making before a mirror, or a professor of the high art, who shows them how to step so, and so, and so; while god calls, the savior waits, life wanes, and the tremendous realities of the eternal world every moment come nearer. even cicero, the heathen moralist, affirms that "no man in his senses will dance." the dancing-master is the devil's drill-sergeant, just as the theater is the devil's church. [illustration: decorative] [illustration: decorative] chapter vii. cards, chess, and billiards. "_abstain from all appearance of evil._" thess. v, . cards are an old game--so old that it is impossible, not only to tell to whose ingenuity we may ascribe the useless invention, but even to name the land or the age in which they originated. they may be traced, however, to asiatic sources. for many centuries the chinese and the hindoos have known the game, and from them it has spread over the world. it was cultivated by the moors in spain, and through their agency made its way into italy, germany, and the other nations of the west. in some european countries the pastime was prohibited by law. this prohibition probably grew out of the superstitions of the times, it being an article of popular faith that games of chance were under the control of the devil, who gave success to those who sold themselves to his service. but cards gradually came into favor among the idle and the frivolous; and at last even royalty--as royalty was in those days--did not disdain to indulge in them. samuel pepys, in his amusing and instructive diary, records that on a certain sunday evening in february, , he found catherine and the queen of charles ii playing cards with the duchess of york, and one or two more, the rooms being "full of ladies and great men." addison, who wrote a little later, continually alludes to the game as the favorite diversion of the fashionables of his times; and such it seems to have continued among the gay and the thoughtless of english circles, till about the beginning of the present century. the love of it, however, was never universal. horne tooke, who assailed the corruptions and tyranny of the english government during the reign of george iii, and was fined and imprisoned sundry times for his hardihood, was once introduced to the sovereign, who entered into a careless conversation with him, and, among other things, asked him if he played cards. "may it please your majesty," was the witty reply, "i do not know a king from a knave." it is said that cards are stealthily creeping up into circles from which they have hitherto been religiously excluded. and here the writer is constrained to confess his lack of personal knowledge of the subject under discussion. he is, indeed, aware that individual cards have their names, and are called kings and queens, knaves and spades; that they are "shuffled" and "cut," and that a certain something is called a "trick"--doubtless very appropriately--but having no ambition to stand in the presence of kings of this particular dynasty, no desire to cultivate the acquaintance of knaves of any sort, no love of tricks of any kind, he remains in willing ignorance even unto this day. two or three times in the course of his life, he has seen people playing cards. first, one would lay down a piece of paper with spots on it, then another player would lay down another spotted paper, and so it went on so long as he beheld the performance; but the process did not seem to him to be attended by any particular result, nor did he learn, possibly because he did not wait and watch long enough, whether the victory depended most on chance, sagacity, or mathematical calculation. but there are facts which every body knows. cards are the gambler's tools. they are a favorite diversion of the aimless and the idle; they have a bad name among honest people. if, as some say, they were introduced into europe by a physician, who adopted them as a means of diverting a royal patient whose intellect was shattered, we naturally infer that no great amount of intelligence, or strength of intellect, is needed to qualify the player. and to this inference it is not difficult to hang another--that the game is the fitting refuge of men and women who are conscious that their talents enable them to shine better in silence than in conversation. whether, according to the rules of the play, a king is any better than a knave, or a diamond than a club, i do not claim to know, but i imagine that in playing, wit and intelligence find little more enjoyment than do the dullest and most stupid of the party. one thing is certain, there is no true utility in the game. it invigorates neither body nor mind; it adds nothing to the store of mental wealth; and those ignorant of it lose nothing by their lack of knowledge. again, it is certain that to some minds the game is dangerous. they are fascinated by it, led into doubtful associations and evil habits, and to ruin itself. it seems that the diversion is so barren of ideas, in itself deficient in interest, that it becomes necessary to stake small sums of money "just to give it a little life." thus the first step is taken in the road that leads to the gambler's hell, to the great joy of the demons who there watch for victims. like other beasts of prey, professional gamblers can not live by devouring each other. idleness must feed upon the earnings of industry or starve. vice must burrow into the granary which belongs to virtue. the cool and calculating gambler will be delighted to see card-playing become fashionable among all classes of society. he knows that of those who begin with playing for mere pastime, a certain proportion will be bitten by the mania for playing for money, and thus be brought within reach of his sharp, remorseless claws. one needs but little information in regard to card-playing to entitle him to the privilege of heartily despising it. introduced, as it would seem, for the express purpose of reducing mental vivacity and culture to the same dead level with ignorance, it bears the semblance of an insult to any company in which it is proposed, wasting precious hours in a way which neither invigorates the body, nor supplies the mind with a single valuable idea. i do not see how any conscientious, intelligent person can deem it innocent. fastening with a strange power upon characters of a peculiar make, and turning them into grist for the gambler's mill, no prudent person will deem it safe. indeed, the history of every gambling den in the great cities of our own country, as well as in other lands, shows that the passion for cards, and the hope of winning money by them, often becomes an utter overmastering infatuation, almost worthy the name of insanity, which renders the victim reckless of the claims of honor, religion, and the tenderest affections of our nature, and drags him down relentlessly to his doom. wholly barren of good results, prodigal of the precious time which god allots for nobler purposes, void of every element of rational recreation, to right minds unsatisfactory and to some minds unsafe, we need not wonder that the degree in which card-playing has prevailed at any given period of history, is a fair index of the corruption of the age. let no professed follower of christ defile his or her hands with so suspicious a thing. chess claims to be a more intellectual, and even more ancient, game than cards. its history and its principles have been set forth in goodly volumes. poetry has sung its charms. the lives of its famous players have been written and their methods described, and a whole library of its peculiar literature has grown up around it. its admirers trace its history for five thousand years, and inform us that it originated among the acute, dreaming inhabitants of india. the chess-player plumes himself on the aristocratic character of his favorite amusement, as if it placed him above the level of common mortals. in some points chess is less objectionable than cards. it does not depend on chance, and there is little opportunity to cheat. moreover, where the players are skillful, it requires a long while to complete a game. for these reasons, as i suppose, chess has never been adopted, so far as i can learn, by the professional gambler; and, therefore, its historic name and present social standing are better. mind challenges mind, and skill alone wins the victory in the duel of intellect. chess is not likely to become epidemic. it is so deep a game; it demands so much of time and silence for the contest; it employs so small a number at once, that the gay and the thoughtless, who are in most danger from irrational amusements, will care little for it. still, if the reader needs a hint, and is glancing along these pages in search of it, he may weigh the suggestions which follow. nobody who assumes to play chess at all is willing to be known as a poor player. to play well, or even respectably, involves a great deal of study and practice, and the spending of much time and mental energy; enough, in fact, to learn one of the dead languages. the game so taxes the intellect that it can not be resorted to as a relaxation from mental toil. there is no physical exercise in it, no courting of the sunlight and the breeze; therefore, it can not be made a good recreation for the sedentary. it conveys no new ideas, makes no additions to our accumulations of mental treasure; and, therefore, it is a poor business for those who need their leisure hours for mental improvement. chess is not popularly a recreation, but a _pastime_; that is, a way of passing the time; and the time thus passed is wasted. many a man, bewitched with chess, which has left his mind unfurnished and his heart untouched, has spent over it precious days and years, which, if rightly improved, would have made him intelligent, wise, and greatly useful in his generation. they who fear god ought not thus to waste the golden moments. if the regular duties of the day leave certain hours at our disposal, these hours are too valuable to be dreamed away over a painted board, and a handful of puppets. the sedentary need air and active exercise, which will expand the lungs, and clothe the whole frame with strength. those whose labor is chiefly that of the hands, need books and newspapers. the student, the clerk, the apprentice, the daughter at home, have more important "moves" to make than those of the chessboard, a wiser way to employ brain power than to spend it on a laborious nothing, a better warfare to wage than the petty antagonisms of useless skill, a record to make in the book of life worth infinitely more than a life-long shout of this world's shallow praise of checks and champions. billiards are simply big marbles, "only this and nothing more." authorities on the subject inform us that the table for playing the game must be twelve feet long, and six feet wide, the top being of slate, covered with cloth. around the raised edges are cushions of india rubber, and sundry pockets. instead of employing his thumb and fingers to shoot his marble, as in the original game, the billiard player uses a stick. there are two sorts of sticks--a long one called a cue, and a short one termed a mace. one writer confesses that the cue is the thing, and the only thing, for the expert to use; but advises ladies to be content with the mace, "since to execute finely with the cue sometimes requires the assumption of attitudes which are not becoming female attire, or to the modesty of the sex." just so. by all means, let the ladies, however ambitious, stick to the mace, even if it is "considered merely as the implement for novices." perhaps we ought to condole with the ladies on the distressing dilemma in which this places them. the mace confesses awkwardness; the cue is forbidden. they are doomed to remain forever novices in the higher art, or sacrifice delicacy to ambition. but what is the game? the expert player places his hand on the table a few inches from the ball, and resting his cue upon it and bending over to look along the stick, studies the situation with the motionless attitude and fixed gaze of a hungry toad taking aim at a fly. then with the end of his stick he strikes the ball, which, if his calculations are correct, goes in a certain direction, hits another ball, and then goes somewhere else. and this is all. it is true, to be able to make the ball go exactly in the right direction, and stop at the right point, requires, as our author declares, "immense practice;" yet the higher achievement attainable is to cause one marble to hit another, and drop into a pocket. this statement of the true character of the game is about all that needs to be set forth to condemn it among intelligent, thoughtful people. it has nothing in it to inform, refine, or in any way improve the mind. the only mental faculties cultivated are those which judge of distances, angles, and muscular forces. to aim at skill is to sacrifice months and years of valuable time to a very mean ambition. it is the favorite device of the saloon and the grog-shop, the bait to entice men from their homes in the evening, and keep them till midnight, drinking, smoking, and telling indecent stories. there is method and design in the pother which the newspapers make over matches and champions, as if the honor of nations were involved in the success of those who volunteer to represent them in petty contest. it is expected that the idler and the spendthrift will be attracted to the place; and in the crowd the seller of alcohol will find customers, and the swindler victims. billiards figure very low in the scale of amusements. associated as it generally is with late hours, confined air, smoking and drinking, the game is detrimental to health, to morals, and to mind. kept clear of evil associations, there is nothing in it to attract the intelligent and the thoughtful. and seeing that the righteous are generally called home when their work is done, the professor of religion, who can find nothing better to do than play billiards, need not expect to live long. [illustration: decorative] [illustration: decorative] chapter viii. novels and novel-reading. "_of making many books there is no end._" eccl. xii, . what is a novel? a recent writer thus defines it: a novel is a portraiture of "something new falling within the domain of fancy or imagination, with its interest centering in love." if this be correct, it would seem that a novel, as such, is neither good nor bad, but is the one or the other according to its own individual character. to portray something new is certainly not wrong if the portraiture be true, and there be a good reason for the portrayal. there is a place, also, for fancy and imagination in the legitimate operations of the mind; nor does the fact that the interest centers in love necessarily condemn it. true love, such as god designed to exist among the families of men, is a golden chain which binds in the best and purest friendship known on earth. genuine, honest, rational love needs to be cultivated, not rebuked and repressed. it needs the controlling and formative influences of intelligence, reason, and religion, and may, therefore, be discussed by the press and on the platform or even in the pulpit. and yet novel-reading has become one of the great vices of our age. multitudes care for nothing but light reading. the bookstores abound with works of fiction. the records of our public libraries show that there are more readers in this department than any other--perhaps more than in all the rest. the literature which finds its way into the hands of our people, as they journey by land or water, is almost invariably fictitious. our weekly periodicals, secular and religious, often have their serial story. our sunday school libraries have been overwhelmed by the flood of weak and washy literature till scarce a vestige of sober history or real biography shows itself above the surface of the wild wilderness of waters. a whole generation of young people are growing up, to whom solid books are unknown, to whom the great historic names of the past are but a sound, and whose ignorance of the world of fact is poorly compensated by their acquaintance with the world of dreams. it is a rule in political economy that demand creates supply. as all kinds of readers addict themselves to fiction, so all sorts of writers press into this wide and productive field, and exhibit results of every degree of badness, with now and then something of better quality. it is not easy for the young to find their way through this labyrinth of good and evil, the good little and the evil infinite. the safest rule, in whose application the fewest mistakes will be made, is that of total abstinence. to declare that all the wild fruit of a certain forest is poisonous, and to prophecy the death of every one who eats a single berry there, may be contrary to truth; nevertheless, if nine out of ten of the kinds found there are deadly, and none but a well-taught observer is able to distinguish between the good and the evil, the warning to be given to the inexperienced is, "touch not, taste not." in regard to novels this is often the only available rule. but if we are required to give more discriminating advice, there are four maxims which are plain, and, if faithfully adhered to, will, i think, be found safe. . _if you have but little time for reading, spend none of it on works of fiction._ your success in life, your happiness, usefulness, and safety in the world depend upon your intelligence, your good sense, your moral character, your modes of living. what you are to be and what you are capable of accomplishing will depend, in no small degree, upon what you know. you require solid information. you need to learn ten thousand things which are to be found in books. your usefulness in the circles to which you belong and your position in the community are intimately connected with the degree in which you improve your mind. you have much to do. you have no time to waste on counterfeit coin while golden treasures of knowledge woo you on every side. read your bibles. read history, the records of the past, and the accounts of current events. read the biographies of good men and women. read books of science. push your researches in every direction, delve in every mine that opens before you. traverse every rich field that invites your footsteps. discipline your mind, store your memory; train your will to all high resolves. if your lot in life is such that little time can be given to intellectual culture, do not waste an hour on the idle dreams of the novelists. . _in any case read only the best works of fiction._ supposing that the time which you are able to devote to books is not narrowed down to an occasional leisure hour, and you feel disposed to glance at the department of fiction, read only the best. books are companions. choose your company wisely. where a multitude surround you, the pious and the profane, the virtuous and the vile, the refined and the brutish, it is madness to associate with all that come. you know what the effect upon your good name would be if you were seen walking arm in arm with those whose very presence is dishonor. there are books so vile that the mere possession of them is fatal to reputation. you will find people whose minds are so empty, and whose talk is so frivolous, that the time spent in their society is lost. there are many books of the same sort. you will meet still other people with whom you can not spend an hour without feeling that you have learned something worth knowing, that you have received an impulse in the direction of the true, the beautiful, and the good, and that you are wiser, purer, stronger because of the interview. there are books of this kind also. for the same reason, then, that you keep the best company to which you have access, read the best books within your reach. they will influence you as certainly as will living associates. there are some few works of fiction which are well written and true to nature, and which inculcate the right and condemn the wrong. if you read fiction at all, read these. i do not name them, because i am not willing to be held responsible for all the time which might possibly be spent over them on the plea that they are here recommended. if you do not know which they are, you will lose nothing by waiting till you are better informed. as for the bad, their "name is legion." . _in all cases let works of fiction form but a very small part of what you read._ read only the best, and read only a few even of the best. or, if you want a more definite rule, read ten good, substantial works to every one of fiction, however good. the best works of imagination go but a little way in supplying the mental aliment which you need. you can not live on the odor of flowers, nor build up strong bone and muscle out of rainbows and moonbeams. you will grow in intelligence, sense, virtue, practical power for good only by means of solid food. portraitures of "something new, falling within the domain of fancy, with their interest centering in love," may please for the moment, but if you get nothing better your soul will be as poor and lank as the lean kine of pharaoh's dream. confining your reading of this sort to the least objectionable of the class, you must add another restriction, in order to be safe, and confine the time thus spent to your leisure moments--what remains after you have given due attention to better things. . _cease wholly to read fiction the moment you find that it begins to render substantial reading distasteful, and the common duties of life irksome, or injure you in any way in mind or morals._ the man who has tampered with some intoxicating drug until an artificial want, a new, imperious appetite, has been created, is on the road to ruin, so they have already done themselves a fearful wrong who have indulged in the intoxications of fiction, until they are restless and unsatisfied without it, and unostentatious every-day life, such as belongs to the vast majority of mortals, seems tame, dull, void of interest, so that the mind can with difficulty be held to its common-place details and duties. and the same question may be made a test in both cases. what effort will it cost to stop? will it require a mighty struggle, an agony of soul, a summoning of all concentrated power of will? then summon the power and form the high resolve without a moment's delay, for life and death tremble in the balance. are virtue and honor so far undermined that the victim is ready to take refuge in hypocrisy and lies, denying in public and indulging in secret? alas! it is to be feared that the work of ruin is already done. at all events, only one hope remains. there must be a quick and thorough reform, a sudden sundering of the chains which bind to the "body of death." in the matter of novels, are you uncertain whether the point of peril has been reached in your own case? try yourself. lay aside light reading; take up some solid work, and see if you can so interest yourself in it that you keep on to the end without impatience, without a temptation to hurry over the tiresome task. if, like the hebrews in the wilderness, you find it a weary march through a dry land, where you are haunted at every step by the recollection of the savory flesh-pots which you have left behind you, be assured that you can not escape too soon. the real question is whether you are not too far gone to escape at all. error in regard to the reading of fiction is fraught with so many evils, that the rules given, stringent as they may seem, are abundantly justified. let our young people be constantly on their guard against the mental enslavement which marks the confirmed novel-reader. common novel-reading is a fearful evil, and against it there are arguments numerous and weighty, which all will do well to heed. . _it wastes precious time._ by universal consent, works of fiction are called "light literature;" and the name is correctly applied. to produce them belongs to light thinkers, men and women whose purposes, principles, and convictions are all light--the light-weights of the world of mind and morals. how strangely the name of martin luther, john wesley, or george washington would sound connected with the authorship of a fanciful story whose "interest centers in love!" the names which illumine the historic page with the purest light are those which it would amaze us to find connected with the authorship of ordinary fiction. it is worth while to pause and inquire why we would be surprised. is not this the solution: that men of real greatness, working in thorough earnest, under the influence of profound conviction, are too busy with the events and duties of the age in which they live to find time to spin out of nothing a dream life for the amusement of idle minds? it is evident that but little is gained by the instructions of teachers so inferior as are the great mass of novel-writers. their productions are too easy reading to discipline the mind. they aim chiefly to amuse the reader, not instruct, nor convince, nor raise him to the height of a great purpose; and, in general, the best that can be said of the best of them is, that they confer pleasure without inflicting injury. but whatever may be the quality, you may be sure that excess in quantity is injurious. the vast majority of novel readers are young, and for them to squander the precious hours is suicidal. youth, wasted, ushers in a feeble middle life and an unhappy old age. they who sow nothing in the spring will lament over an autumn which brings no fruit. novel-reading is simply a diversion, a pastime, and to spend more than an occasional hour in diversion, however innocent it may be in itself, is a waste of time, too precious to be thus thrown away. . _excessive light reading injures the mind._ the novelist seeks to bear his readers along without any labor on their part. they simply witness the action, and watch the unfolding of the plot. the author amuses them with wit and humor; and, if he can, melts them with pathos, or charms them with eloquent description. he is the performer, and they are the spectators. if he is one of the best of his class, they may improve a little in some branches of knowledge, provided they are content to read slowly enough for the purpose. but habitual novel-readers hurry on to see "how it all comes out," seldom pausing to consider the force of a figure, or the beauty of an expression. ingenious thought, keen discrimination in depicting character, accurate descriptions of natural scenery, nice points of style, are lost in the rush of words. there is a headlong race of event after event, shadows and light, storm and calm, and at last an end, a rapid panorama, little of which is seen distinctly while it is passing, and still less is remembered when it is past. the intellect does not grow strong playing with straws thus, where there is no exercise of the judgment on what is read, no effort of the memory to retain any thing. the novel-reader that does little or nothing but lounge about with a weak dilution of literature in hand, will soon become as soft and flabby in mind as in muscle, wholly incapable of lofty purposes and worthy deeds. . _excessive light reading tends to unfit for real life._ a devourer of novels seldom has an appetite for any thing else. to do our duty well, we must have our thoughts upon it, and our minds interested in it. the heart and the hands must go together, or the hands will soon tire, and do their work indifferently. what chance is there for the student who indeed holds blackstone or wood before his dreamy eyes, but whose thoughts are upon the unfinished romance in his desk? how can the daughter at home find happiness in aiding to bear the burden of domestic cares, while her mind is in a whirl over some delicious love-story, in which she has lost her identity in that of the fascinating lady something, with four desperate rivals for her hand, and the crisis of her fate just over-leaf? works of fiction would be less doubtful reading if the reader, after finishing the last page of the story, utterly forgot the whole, or remembered it only as we remember veritable history. the loss in that case would be chiefly loss of time. but as things are, novel-readers spend many a precious hour in dreaming out clumsy little romances of their own, in which they themselves are the beautiful ladies and the gallant gentlemen who achieve impossibilities, suffer unutterable woe for a season, and at last anchor in a boundless ocean of connubial bliss. nor does it require much previous mental cultivation to enable one to indulge in these visionary joys. the school-boy and school-girl, the apprentice, the seamstress, the girl in the kitchen, can conjure up rosy dreams as readily as other people; and perhaps more readily, as it requires but little reading of the sort to render them impatient of their lot in life, and set them to imagine something that looks higher and better. in fact, the cinderella of the old nursery story is the true type of thousands of our novel-readers. they live a sort of double life-one in their own proper persons, and in their real homes; the other as ideal lords and ladies in dream-land. ella, sitting among her native cinders, is a very prosaic individual, addicted to exceedingly prosaic employments, and fulfilling a destiny far removed from sublimated romance. but touched by the wand of the good fairy, ella is transfigured, her coarse garments are robes of magnificence, the mice are prancing steeds, the pumpkin is a coach, and she rides in state, the admiration of all beholders, and weds the prince triumphantly. the modern ella, sitting among the cinders, has indeed no good fairy to confer sudden splendors upon her; but her place is well supplied by sundry periodicals, designed for just this style of readers. and so ella invests her six cents weekly, and reads, and dreams. according to the flesh, she bears an honest, humble name, busies herself with a cooking stove, or a noisy sewing-machine, and with all her matrimonial anglings, perhaps has never a nibble. in her other capacity she is the countess of moonshine, who dwells in a castle of spain, wears a coronet of diamonds, and to whom ardent lords and smitten princes make love in loftiest eloquence; and she is blest. but, as napoleon once observed, there is only a step between the sublime and the ridiculous. at any moment the coach of state may relapse into its original squash, the prancing horses again become mice, the costly array turn once more to rags; and the countess, sweeping in her trailing robes through the glittering crowd of admiring lords and envious ladies, subside into her former simple self, with the hideous onions to be peeled, or the clattering machine to be kept in motion. how can the two parts of this double existence harmonize? how is it possible for those whose minds are thus bewildered, and who have formed this inveterate habit of indulging in sentimental reverie, to engage heartily in the performance of commonplace duties? the inevitable result of excessive novel-reading is a distaste, if not an incapacity, for the sober thought and patient effort which are the price of success in every worthy path of life. . _excessive novel-reading creates an overgrowth of the passions._ the novel-reader naturally, and perhaps unconsciously, becomes identified with the personage in the story who is nearest to what he or she would like to be. with the book in his hand, and his whole soul for the time being wrapped up in the exciting history, the young man ceases to be the apprentice, the clerk, the student, the farmer's boy, the plain john or peter of his real self. he is merged in the hero of the story, handsome in person, brilliant in mind, endowed with every excellence, and bearing a name of at least three syllables. he becomes the ardent suitor of the beautiful lady, the heiress of the immense estate. the burning words in which love is portrayed are his words. the whole thing becomes so far a reality that it has something of the force of a genuine experience; and he feels happy, or grows melancholy with the varying futures of his imaginary passion. now, if peter be a boy of fifteen, it is tolerably evident that he is advancing a little too fast in his sentimental career. like a certain variety of pears described in the fruit books, there is danger of his being rotten before he is ripe. he is meditating matrimony when he has scarcely got beyond the limits of marbles and green apples. he looks around at the little girls to see which of them is the princess in disguise; and soon imagines that he is desperately in love with some little damsel in the neighborhood, and seeing that in this dreadful world disappointment is always possible, he begins to canvass the most picturesque and pathetic modes of committing suicide, in case the ferocious uncle should interfere, as he did in the book. the young lady is similarly affected. she fancies herself the beautiful heroine of the story, rich, accomplished, and, romantically, wretched. she, too, begins to look about for the model lover who lays his hand upon his heart, lifts his tearful face toward heaven, and says pretty things. she feels disdain for the plain young men of her acquaintance, and perhaps fixes her eyes upon some flashy stranger, whose unknown antecedents give her a chance to invest him with all the impossible perfections her romantic fancy is able to invent. now, this state of things has its ridiculous side, but it is not healthy nor safe. the effects are too serious to be passed by with a smile. the inveterate habit of day-dreaming thus created absorbs the thoughts, destroys the mental balance, impairs sound judgment, and produces tendencies which are very far from the views and feelings, aims and principles, on which usefulness and honor in the world depend. there is an overgrowth of the passions, an exaltation of marriage out of all due proportion to other sources of rational happiness, an overestimate of beauty, wealth, and the other accidentals of human life; and a corresponding underestimate of the value of piety, industry, and the sober virtues which are "in the sight of god of great price." it is a vice of novelists as a class, to exalt love and matrimony above all else, and thus create in susceptible youth the habit of thinking and dreaming of matrimony above all else. thus the novelist literally "turns the heads" of young people, inasmuch as he places foremost and uppermost the faculty which the phrenologists locate low down in the back of the brain. . _the habit of novel-reading creates a morbid love of excitement somewhat akin to the imperious thirst of the inebriate._ the victim of drugs does not love opium or alcohol because of its taste or smell. the effect which he covets is, in truth, a mental effect. he resorts to the drug that he may feel rich, powerful, exalted, and happy, while, in reality, he is "wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked." the victim of novels aims at the same thing in another way, by applying the bane directly to the mind itself. but the inebriate soon finds that in order to produce the desired effect he must, from time to time, increase the strength of the dose. he adds to the quantity. then from wine he goes on to brandy, and from that to absinthe, drugging his deadened brain to the verge of death, to gain, from time to time, a feeble return of the momentary joys which once a very little of his chosen stimulus had power to impart. the experience of the confirmed novel-reader is similar. the simple tales of innocent love which interest the beginner soon become commonplace. they fail to excite the fancy or stir the emotions, and then something stronger must be had. quiet love and ordinary incident must give place to fierce rivalry and jealousy, hate, revenge, and murder. the editors of certain periodicals belonging to this style of literature seem to have decided that the public mind in general has reached this final stage. i confess that my knowledge of these periodicals is not extensive, being confined to what is gained by a passing glance at windows and hand-bills, where their pictorial baits are thrust out to entrap buyers. the pictures which greet the eyes of passengers are almost invariably pictures of somebody shooting or stabbing somebody. the last embellishment which i have noticed, however, is a cut of somebody strangling the other somebody with his naked hands. this is doubtless still more delightfully horrible to the admirers of this style of writing, and calculated to thrill them with a new sensation. when the mind has become so vitiated that it turns away not only from all solid reading, but even from the less objectionable works of fiction, to revel in nauseous descriptions of lawless passions and bloody deeds, and is so besotted with them that every thing else is void of interest, and every duty irksome, how far is it removed from some of the worst evils of drunkenness or even of insanity itself? how much worse is the victim of alcohol or opium than the victim of mental intoxication? . _the habitual reading of novels tends to lessen the reader's horror of crime and wickedness._ crime is seldom actually committed until the mind has become familiar with the thoughts of it. the books which picture passion and crime keep the readers in closest contact with evil till the horror with which they first shrank from it is gone. moreover, these books are sometimes written to serve a special purpose. an author may be given to some sin which places him under the ban of respectable society. he grows restive and malicious under the frowns of the good. he writes a book in which his own vice is white-washed into a sort of semi-respectability, and made merely an amiable weakness, while some church member of sounding professions, or perhaps a christian minister, turns out to be the villain of the plot. thus in one character we see a villain bearing the christian name, and in another a hidden vice united with so many shining qualities that the moral deformity is hidden by the splendors that are thrown around it. thus the reader is trained to look suspiciously upon the virtuous and smile upon the vicious. if he is tempted in the direction of any particular wickedness, his memory will easily supply him with some model from the books, who was given to the same thing, and was a noble character, nevertheless, the admiration of all about him, generous, brave, and in the end successful and happy. the inference of the tempted one is naturally this: that he too can yield and be admired, and in the end be happy. aside from the fictitious respectability which vice gains by being portrayed as not incompatible with the possession of high and generous qualities, needless familiarity with the idea of crime lessens the horror with which we regard it. the more suicides in any community the more easy it is to commit suicide, when rage and disappointment supply the temptation. in communities where every man goes armed, and every eye is familiar with scenes of blood, small provocations lead to murder. it is not irrational to assume that one reason why play-actors, as a class, tend to low morals is because it is a part of their regular business to personate immoral characters on the stage; and when the mind has become thoroughly imbued with the idea, and the lips familiar with the language of wickedness, the step from shams to reality is short and easy. thus the press becomes an apostle of unrighteousness when it lends its power to make the public mind familiar with all the phases of depravity. he that delights to dwell upon the nauseous details is not morally safe, and the vice which furnishes his choice reading is the very one into which he is liable to fall. the refined and the pure shrink with loathing from needless contact with the things which they condemn and abhor. i believe that the fearful multiplication of tragic crimes in our own day is due, in no small degree, to two causes--one the too general circulation of a corrupt literature, which familiarizes the reader with all that is detestable and infamous in character and conduct, the other the common use of drugged liquors, which fire the brain with a wilder frenzy than even that which is produced by alcohol, and drive men to their doom with a still more powerful, relentless force. in brief, the increased prevalence of gross forms of wickedness is due to a general poisoning, mental and physical, which fills the minds and the veins of its victims with a more deadly venom than we have hitherto known. an extract from a religious periodical, which comes to hand while i am writing, corroborates the first part of the statement made. "a young man--j.h.w.--committed suicide recently in indianapolis. he left a letter to his brother, in which he says: 'i believe that if i had never read a novel i should now be on the high road to fortune; but, alas! i was allowed to read the vilest kind of novels when i was eight or nine years old. if good books had been furnished me, and no bad ones, i should have read the good books with the same zest that i did the bad. persuade all persons over whom you have any influence not to read novels.' the ordinary of newgate prison, in his report to the lord mayor, represents what a fruitful source of crime the jack sheppard and paul clifford style of novels has been among the youth of england. inquiring into the causes which brought many lads of respectable parentage to the city prison, he discovered that all these boys, without one exception, had been in the habit of reading those cheap periodicals which are now published for the alleged instruction and amusement of the youth of both sexes." . _excessive devotion to fictitious reading is totally at variance with scriptural piety._ this needs neither proof nor illustration. genuine piety takes hold of the heart, and draws the thoughts and the affections toward god, and makes duty the source of the sweetest enjoyment. but when the novel usurps the place of the bible; when secret prayer is hurried over, or wholly neglected, because of a burning desire to know what comes next in the story; when meditation on divine things is forgotten in endless day-dreams of love and worldly splendor; or, worse still, when real life is thrown into the shade by the unreal, and made to appear mean and insipid; when the action of conscience and sober reason is swept aside by the wild delirium of mental intoxication, what result can we look for save apostasy and final ruin? while i contemplate these things, i confess that i am almost ready to recant the former part of this chapter, and insert in the place of it a rigid iron rule for the guidance of all, young and old, learned and unlearned: total abstinence from novel-reading henceforth and forever. surely, there is abundant cause for the rule of the methodist episcopal church, which warns all her communicants to abstain from "reading those books which do not tend to the knowledge or love of god." [illustration: decorative] [illustration: decorative] chapter ix. social gatherings. "_how can one be warm alone?_" eccl. iv, . time would fail me to examine the numerous and diversified amusements practiced in various parts of our land. some are local; others are known every-where. some are right and wise; some are otherwise. some are intellectual and refined; others are mere noisy romps. of many of the older sort the chief end was _kissing_. this latter feature may not have been particularly objectionable in little neighborhood gatherings in the country, where every body had known every body else all their lives, and half the young people in the room were cousins. the reader, however, will doubtless agree in the opinion that in more general assemblies it is not over refined, and may well give place to something else of less doubtful propriety. to go through the whole list of these diversions, and pronounce upon the merits of each, would be tedious and useless. my aim has been to discuss principles, and then, in the light of those principles, to examine some of the more objectionable diversions now pleading for popular favor. if those principles are as plain as i take them to be, it will not be difficult to apply them to any new candidate for our suffrages. the reader, nevertheless, may object to an abrupt close of the discussion. he may say that this series of trials and condemnations is not enough, and that he is now waiting to be informed in regard to the recreations which are allowable and right; that having been warned against the forbidden fruit, he would now like to see the other trees, of which he may freely eat. the suggestion is not without force; and yet it will require but a moment's reflection to make it clear that i can not comply with it. to attempt to make a mere list of the names of rational recreations would, for many reasons, be unwise. in some cases games and amusements are local, and to readers belonging elsewhere the mere name would convey no information. the same name is also applied to different diversions in different localities, and, therefore, approval or censure would be misunderstood and misapplied. it is evident that a simple list of amusements to be condemned, and another list of those approved, would be of little service. on the other hand, if i should attempt to escape misconstruction by describing fully the amusements condemned or approved, the whole plan of this little volume would be changed, and it would become properly a book of diversions instead of a discussion of principles. that such a work might be written--possibly not in vain--is not denied; but it is no part of my plan to write it. nevertheless, i do not hesitate to offer a few practical suggestions. permit me to say, first of all, that if any of my readers have nothing useful to do--no solid purpose in life, no proper employment, nor desire for any--they are counted out of this discussion. the idle, the frivolous, the useless have no right to recreation. they must reform their aimless, empty lives, and by industry earn the privilege of rest and relaxation before they are entitled even to hold an opinion on the subject. let me add that no diversion, no amusement can impart more than a momentary pleasure to the indolent and the listless. a degree of hunger alone can prepare a man fully to enjoy his food. it is the sleep of the laboring man that is sweet. true recreation involves the idea of rest; relief, pleasant change of occupation. so the active, the busy, the industrious alone truly enjoy recreation. they who make amusement their only pursuit will soon find it utter weariness. for such i have only pity, and for them i am not writing. but the active and the industrious, who "redeem the time," are entitled to their hours and modes of recreation. so far from denying it to be their privilege, i proclaim it to be their duty. the time and the manner must, of course, be adapted to their varying circumstances. the school-boy and school-girl need active exercise out-of-doors, in the light of the sun, else they are liable to grow up colorless and spindling, like vegetables which have sprouted in the cellar. every one, older or younger, whose mind toils while the muscles are inactive, needs the sunbeams and the breeze. they whose employment, on the contrary, taxes the muscles, while the mind is comparatively inactive, require modes of recreation which spur the intellect, quicken the imagination, and store the memory with rich treasures of thought. those whose daily avocation confines their thoughts to a narrow circle must find a wider range elsewhere, and exercise their wings in longer flights. they who work alone and in silence, need society; and those spending much of their time in a crowd will profit by an occasional hour of quiet, solitary meditation. it was a curious habit of the late dr. archibald alexander, of princeton, to spend the hour of evening twilight alone in his study, sitting in silent thought amid the deepening shadows. who will say that it was not wise? what lofty argument, what profound knowledge of spiritual things, what emotions of divine love and adoration may not have been drawn thus from the well of silence and quiet waiting? the chief recreation of the world at large is _conversation_. talking is the joy of the whole earth. it is one of the great employments of life. our utterances are often more important--do more good and evil than our deeds. all human wisdom, knowledge, sentiment, wit, fancy, flow in the channel of speech. by words truth conquers, reforms progress, mind acts upon mind, heart reaches heart, soul converses with soul. the lips may utter golden speech, or drip with the poison of asps. human breath can come like the breezes of paradise, or blast like the deadly sirocco of the hot desert. aside from the deep joy of worship, and the hope of eternal life, there is no happiness, purer, richer, better than that which springs from words. and there is little true recreation which does not make conversation one of its chief features, and rely upon it as its great charm. conversation implies social life. and here, in regard to social gatherings, i will make a suggestion which i am persuaded that my readers will applaud with united voices, and, i fear, as unanimously disregard in practice. our social gatherings are apt to be too formal, too expensive, too large to secure the end which we have in view. to give a "great party" once or twice a year, and astonish the whole community by the splendor of the show, is rather a poor way to cultivate genuine friendship. it is often a fearful undertaking to those who give it, and not very satisfactory to those who attend. long and anxious debate settles on the list of the invited; and when it is too late to remedy errors, it is discovered that somebody has been forgotten. the worry about the invitations, the arrangements, and the weather, is a fearful tax upon the time and temper for weeks beforehand; and when the eventful evening comes the fear that all will not "pass off smoothly" keeps the host, and especially the hostess, in a tremor of excitement, which culminates with the assembling of the company, and finds relief in their departure. of the multitude who move uneasily from room to room, it often happens that the majority are little more than mere acquaintances of the entertainers, and of each other. some are invited because we know them well, and love their society; others, because they gave an entertainment some time ago, and an invitation in return for theirs is a sort of debt of honor, even when we suspect that their courtesy was only a little device whereby they were aiming to get into a new circle. sometimes the invitations are extended so as to include some who are almost strangers, simply because a certain number must be reached, or the affair will be pronounced inferior to somebody else's party. there is no chance for genuine conversation; and little is heard save commonplace remarks about the crowd and the heat, or inquiries in regard to the old gentleman with the spectacles, or the young lady with the curls. some fail to come, whose absence annoys and vexes; and others arrive first and stay last, whose absence could have been borne without a pang. here is one whose sharp eyes and sharper tongue are the terror of the town, and who goes preying about, making mental notes of every small mishap, and every little awkward thing, and laying up ammunition for a gossiping campaign. there is another, who sees that his or her turn to give the entertainment is not far off, and who is carefully estimating the extent of the preparations to be made, and calculating the expenses to be incurred, in order to be equal to the rest, or, if ambitious, to outdo them. i do not wish to visit these things with ridicule. they have some good features, as well as defects. they are worth something, perhaps, though not all that they cost. and yet there is "a more excellent way." if we invite at one time no larger a number than our parlors will seat, and we bring our friends together for a good, social, comfortable, leisurely talk, there might be less of display; but would there not be more of genuine enjoyment? suppose, also, that the company be invited by families, including the young and the old, the parents and the children, the married and the unmarried. let the grandsires draw their arm chairs toward each other and pour into each other's ear-trumpets the reminiscences of other days, and laugh again over the old oft-repeated stories. let the little children, down on the floor by their side, discourse of tops or dolls, while middle age reasons on public events, or discusses family matters, and the young people are gathered around the piano or the book table; and as each drifts about on the social current, the spectacles and the curls impend over the same book or picture, and the ear-trumpet be found gathering up the voices that chatter over the toys. thus there might be true social pleasure without anxiety or envy, without present uneasiness, or heart-burnings afterward. thus the aged would be cheered by the vivacity of youth; and the gayety of youth be tempered by the wisdom of age. or, if any one fancies doing things on a larger scale, let as many be invited as the house will hold comfortably; and instead of coming at midnight to stay till morning, let the company assemble early in the evening. and let there be music, and mirth, and laughter, and leisurely comfortable interchange of ideas, discourse that carries no sting and leaves no wound, but fosters gentle manners and lasting friendships. if the host chooses thus to manifest his hospitality, let there be a repast as good as need be; but excluding all that can intoxicate. moreover, before the guests separate, let a few moments be spent in praise and prayer, according to the pious example of our fathers. and let midnight see all the guests safe at home. thus the morrow will not find them jaded in body and mind, and irritable in temper, but clear in brain and warm in heart, with a tendency to smile all day long over the pleasant recollections of an evening thus innocently spent. i own that i am not sanguine in regard to the popularity of my proposed reform, especially in fashionable quarters. young men who in the language of the day are called "fast," will pronounce this way of giving a party decidedly "slow." mrs. fitzshoddy sees that this mode of procedure will materially lessen her chances to display her newly acquired splendors, and thus totally extinguish her aristocratic neighbor over the way, who failed to return her call five years ago. fitzshoddy himself has serious misgivings. he looks up at the social heights he would fain ascend, and shakes his head despondingly. "that is not the way them fellows does things, and you won't get among them unless you do as they do. they have a crowd, and a big fiddle, and a dance, and a long table with a wheelbarrow load of silver and things on it, and lots of wine, and all that. you can't invite them to a hum-drum tea-drinking that winds up with psalm-singing and prayer. they would think it was somebody's funeral." miss arabella, too, who has of late given her whole mind to the devising of gear for the outside of her head--a cunning piece of strategy to divert attention from the state of things within--dreads so much conversation. "people get to talking of things that you never heard of, you know, and books that you never read, and it is so embarrassing, you know." and then she absolutely trembles when she thinks of "pa's" bad grammar, and his habit of shaking the windows with gigantic laughter at his own jokes. many, too, will admit the evils of present social customs, but be afraid to lead in innovations. some will feel that to refuse to give a grand party, after having attended a number among their acquaintances, will look very much like repudiation. still, i doubt not that the intelligent and the conscientious will agree that what i have proposed is, as it has been already styled, "the more excellent way." i know that it will be hard to make the giddy believe that there is much enjoyment to be found in these quiet ways. they want a crowd, and noise, and commotion. and in this they judge amiss. this crazy rush after excitement defeats itself. as simple food and regular habits best promote health, so simple pleasures best promote genuine happiness. the joys of wine are not to be compared with the calm peace and self-mastery which belong to the temperate. the whirl of the dizzy dance, the wild excitement of the race-course, the sensational tricks of the theater, the whole circle of vices and fashionable follies are poor in their results, compared with the better pleasures which arise from our nobler nature. they who would enjoy life wisely and well, must not heed every voice which cries "lo, here," or "lo, there," but remember that "the kingdom is within." [illustration: decorative] [illustration: decorative] chapter x. appeal to the young members of the methodist episcopal church. "_i have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, and the word of god abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one._" i john ii, . before we part, will our young christian reader "suffer the word of exhortation?" i am not unmindful of the situation in which you are placed. you have associates, intelligent, agreeable in manners, and not immoral, who argue stoutly in defense of their thoughtless pleasures. your conscience resists, and yet you feel the effect of their solicitations. you are sometimes almost ready to wish that your parents, your pastor, your class-leader, and your own conscience would consent to your yielding, that you might escape the pressure and feel no conflict between duty and the wishes of your gay companions. let me call your attention to certain considerations, which i trust will have the effect to strengthen you for the right. . _frivolous and doubtful amusements have always been condemned by the discipline of our church._ our general rules do not indeed name dancing, the theater, and the rest. had they done this, it might have been argued that the discipline allows every folly not specified in the list. our fathers in the church were too wise thus to attempt to war against an evil which assumes a thousand protean forms. they announce a broad principle, which condemns all "_such diversions as can not be used in the name of the lord jesus_." do you profess to be in doubt as to the true intent and meaning of the rule? if you do, look at the past history of the church. which of the founders of methodism favored dancing? did john wesley? did fletcher or clarke? which of them favored the theater or the horse-race? did hedding, or fisk, or olin? i challenge the apologists for dancing, theaters, and races to show that a single one of the multitude of holy men and women who have a name in our annals ever practiced or approved such diversions. on the contrary, there arise from their honored graves a great cloud of witnesses against them. the devoted servants of god, who shine as stars in our firmament, and whose names are "as ointment poured forth," condemned, feared, abhorred them as utterly at war with the life which they were living and the work which they were doing. nor were these the views of ignorant, morose, narrow-minded people, soured by disappointment, or disabled by age or disease, but of intelligent, happy men and women, who served the lord with glad hearts and went about with smiling faces. our church traditions are unanimous in regard to these things. the testimony which they bear is uniform and strong. our bishops and pastors are now unanimous in their judgment. within the past year, conference after conference has spoken in resolutions and pastoral addresses, warning our young people on this subject. if, therefore, a young man here and there among us finds that the practices into which he has fallen are at variance with the deliberate judgment of the wesleys, the clarkes, the asburys, and the heddings of the past, and all the bishops and pastors of the present day, i respectfully suggest that he will not be liable to be convicted of excessive modesty if he should begin to suspect that his ideas on the subject are wrong, nor of excessive caution if he should conclude to refrain from indulgence till he is better assured that it is right and safe. surely no one will count it a light thing to disregard the teachings of a century of spiritual power and progress, nor to turn a careless ear to the kind and faithful counsels of those who now watch for souls. . _every member of the methodist episcopal church is bound by a solemn pledge to abstain from all questionable diversions, such as those already named._ in the form given in the ritual for the reception of persons into the church after probation, the fourth question is in the following words: "will you be cheerfully governed by the rules of the methodist episcopal church, hold sacred the ordinances of god, and endeavor, as much as in you lies, to promote the welfare of your brethren and the advancement of the redeemer's kingdom?" to this question, so full of meaning, each candidate for reception must answer, before god and his church, "i will." (discipline, page .) every member of the church, therefore, solemnly promises before god and the people of god to be cheerfully governed by the rules of the church. one of these rules calls upon you to avoid "such diversions as can not be used in the name of the lord jesus." that rule has always been understood to condemn balls and dancing, theaters, attendance at horse-races, and the whole list of corrupting amusements. the logical chain, then, is complete. every member of the church is bound, in the most solemn manner, by his or her own pledge, fully and publicly given, to abstain from balls, dancing, theater-going, and the rest. can you, for one moment, harbor the thought of repudiating so solemn an obligation? the psalmist inquires, "_lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? who shall dwell in thy holy hill?_" and he thus answers his own question: "_he that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not_." god honors those who are faithful to their word. he delights in the man who keeps his promise, even when it is against his own temporal interests to abide by it. if god counts it a dishonorable and wrong thing for a man to repudiate a pledge given to his fellow-man, what will he think of those who repudiate a solemn public pledge made to him? if god honors the integrity of the man who keeps his word when his interests seem to call upon him to violate it, what will he say of those who violate their word when all their interests, both temporal and eternal, call upon them to keep it? . _when the young people connected with the church are drawn into frivolous diversions, it is a sorrow of heart to the pastor and to all devoted christians._ will it be replied that these faithful friends of years are so narrow and antiquated in their notions, that no one need care what they think or how they feel? the matter can not be disposed of thus lightly. it is not a small thing for a few young men and women, before whom real life lies yet untried, to set up their opinions, and blindly adhere to them, in opposition to the solemn judgment of the whole body of the ministry. it is not a small thing to wound, deeply and wantonly, those whose acknowledged consistency and holy lives are the joy and crown of the church, and one of the main elements of its strength in the community. it is by these, and such as they, and god working through them, that we have bibles and sabbaths, and law and order, and civilization itself--all that exalts a christian country above a heathen land. these devoted followers of christ love his church and his people. some of them have been long in the way. they feel that they are approaching the gates of _the city which hath foundations_, and they are expecting daily the shadowy messenger that shall bid them enter. looking to the younger members of the church to supply the places which they will soon leave vacant, they may well be troubled, and shed their tears over the gloomy future, when they see youthful professors of religion given to vain and trifling pleasures and frivolous pursuits, trying to break down the discipline of the church, and strip methodism of its beauty and its power, and wrest from its hands the spiritual weapons with which a thousand victories have been won. . _when young church members become giddy and fond of worldly pleasure, the unconverted are encouraged to go on in their sins._ they who are yet unsaved hear the ways of wisdom described as ways of pleasantness and peace, but they know not how to understand the declaration. they confess that it is good to have a hope of eternal life, just as it is good to have a life-preserver about you when you are going to make a sea-voyage. still, to them piety is a mystery. the deep joy of devotion, the glow and the rapture of praise, the blessedness of communion with god they can not comprehend. they listen, and wonder, and sometimes doubt and do not know what to think. but when they find that young members of the church are just as eager as themselves after questionable pleasures, they conclude that these roseate pictures of the happiness of the christian are, to say the least, overdone. when they see the flock trying the fence on all sides of the fold, and stretching their heads through every opening, to nibble at the weeds outside, they begin to suspect that the pasture within is not as rich as it is represented. thus the inconsistent conduct of professed christians who plunge into worldly amusements harms souls and injures a holy cause. and sinners, too, are inconsistent with themselves. now they argue that religion is all delusion, because, as they say, its professors are no better than other people; now they insist that their soulless pursuits must be right, because even members of the church indulge in them. thus they seek to justify their follies and their sins by the example of worldly church members. moreover, they will endeavor to make a little in you justify a great deal in them. tell a sinner that he is not wise in attending balls, and he will twit you with the parlor dancing at some well-known professor's house. warn him against the theater, and he will ask you to point out the moral difference between that and the play at the museum. tell him that the gambling den is a dangerous place for young men, and he will remark, with a significant look, that living away from home he can not play cards in his father's house, as some do. and what professors of religion do occasionally, the unconverted, on the strength of their example, will claim the right to do constantly and habitually. thus the thoughtless conduct of church members is made to increase the perils which environ the unsaved, and to hedge up the only way of life. to incur, or even risk, consequences like these for the sake of a momentary excitement, is certainly to do the devil's work for low wages. . _if you indulge in diversions which are thus under condemnation, it can not fail to lessen your religious enjoyment and mar your usefulness._ you may seem to yourself to be confident that your course is right, but the consciousness that others, whose judgment you must respect, believe it to be wrong, brings a cloud over you. the fact that you are doing what they condemn will haunt you in church, at the prayer-meeting, and every-where. the fact that you do this, not under any plea of necessity, but for mere pastime and momentary pleasure, will not mend matters. however kind and considerate the older members of the church may be in their allusions to your course, you feel that you have not their confidence fully. this will trouble you, perhaps irritate you. you fancy that you are looked upon coldly. you detect little instances of neglect. you imagine that certain expressions in sermons of your pastor or the prayers of your brethren were meant for you. things get worse the longer you brood over them. you are tempted first to stay away from the sacrament, and then to neglect the other means of grace. some well-meaning but clumsy brother pounces upon you at a most untimely moment, administers a scathing rebuke, and goes on his way happy, blessing the lord that there is one christian left who has the courage to do his duty. now you are really angry. you are ready to imagine that all the rest of the church would talk the same way if they should speak their minds. thus, little by little, you veer from your christian course, the mists gather around you, the stars disappear, you fall into adverse currents, and, it may be, finally strike upon the rocks, and make shipwreck of faith and a good conscience. will you say that the evils depicted flow not from your conduct, but from the censoriousness of the church? if all were silent, the result would not be materially different. the methodist episcopal church is immovable in her position in regard to these things. if you violate her discipline, you can not shut out the thought that you are an unfaithful, disloyal member of her communion. this alone will suffice to bring a chill and a blight upon you. the world, too, see that you are not in accord with your brethren--not at home in the place which you occupy--and this encourages them to ply their arts to lead you still further. if you resist, they remind you of your own past conduct, and inquire, perhaps with a sneer, whence comes this sudden tenderness of conscience. if others rebuke them, they refer to you, with another sneer, as their exemplars. surely, the poor pleasure which springs from questionable diversions is bought at too high a price when it costs us our consistency, the warm fellowship of christian people, peace of conscience, and the power to do good. . _in morals compromises are not only treason to truth and righteousness, but compromised positions are of all the hardest to defend in argument and maintain in practice._ you have acquaintances, intelligent and agreeable, but gay and inconsiderate, who are unwearied in their efforts to draw you into their circle. their importunities are urgent, and it taxes all your powers of resistance to withstand them. you grow weary of the conflict between duty and inclination, and wish for rest. the thought occurs to you that if you go a little way with your tempters they will be satisfied, and no great harm will be done. you reason amiss. to compromise with wrong is never the end of conflict. you must conquer a peace. if you do not mean to make a complete surrender to the world, the flesh, and the devil, there must be a point where the line is drawn, and the stand taken. where will you place the line? will you try to draw it half way between right and wrong? if you do you will abandon a strong position for a weak one. if you yield in regard to dancing in private parties, you will be invited, in due time, to attend a ball. if you go to see some "moral drama" performed at the museum, you will be urged to attend the theater. and the assault made on your halfway position will be just as strong, the conflict just as painful, and to refuse just as hard as you now find it. the place of undoubted right is at once the safest to occupy and the easiest to maintain, and it is bad generalship to try to intrench at any other point. and to parley with the enemy is the next thing to a surrender. fight it out, then, on this line. life is brief, and close beyond it lie heaven and hell. if you take one single step in the direction of danger and ruin in search of fleeting pleasures, will you think, ten thousand ages hence, that in this you were wise? the foolish diversions in which you are now importuned to join war with health, waste time, squander money, mar christian reputation, dissipate serious thought, hinder usefulness, attack every temporal and every eternal interest. can you persuade yourself that it is right for you, for the sake of an hour's feverish excitement, to tarnish your religious example, grieve your fellow-believers, lay a burden upon your pastor's heart, wantonly throw away your power to do good, and give new courage to the wicked? will you still try to apologize for questionable pleasures? the entire board of bishops, the general conference, your pastors, without an exception, all the deeply pious men and women of the church, believe that dancing, card-playing, going to the theater and the races are unwise, inexpedient, hurtful to the spiritual interests of those who engage in them, and damaging to the moral power of the church of god. nor do they stand alone in this solemn judgment. the most intelligent and devoted christians in the various churches around us share these convictions. will you set yourself in array against whole conferences, councils, and general assemblies? and if you deem yourself equal in judgment to all combined, let me ask you another question: is your conclusion as safe as theirs? they think it dangerous to dance, play cards, and attend the theater. are you equally confident that it is dangerous _not_ to dance, _not_ to play cards, _not_ to attend the theater? is abstinence as perilous as indulgence? they fear that god will not hold you guiltless if you venture into these frivolities. are you as fully persuaded that god will condemn you if you do not venture into them? the danger is all on one side. beware how you venture where there is cause for hesitation. remember, "he that doubteth," and yet goes on when he might safely stop, "is damned." [illustration: decorative] [illustration: decorative] chapter xi. appeal to the church. "_and they shall teach my people the difference between the holy and profane, and cause them to discern between the unclean and the clean._" ezekiel xliv, . on moral and religious questions compromise is treason to the right. lafayette's witty and just illustration is well applied. he supposes two men to get into an altercation in regard to a fact in arithmetic. "twice two is four," says the one, stoutly. "no", replies the other, "twice two is six." both are immovable, and the dispute waxes warm. a third person approaches, and lays a hand gently upon each. "gentlemen, reason is not infallible. the wisest men are sometimes in error. we are all prone to rush to extremes. you, my friend, affirm that twice two is four. you, who are equally my friend, affirm that twice two is six. compromise, gentlemen, compromise. meet each other half way. agree to say, hereafter, that twice two is five." men are not lacking who, even in considering points of morals and religion, are ready to confess that really, after all, so far at least as their present information extends, twice two is somewhere about five. nay, in their haste to meet what they style the demands of the age, some are ready to compromise at five and ninety-nine hundredths. and thus, all the way from what st. john calls "the camp of the saints and the beloved city" down to the place where gog and magog are gathering their hosts for battle, men are pitching their flimsy tents and raising their equivocal banners. it is a lamentable fact that among the chief obstacles to the progress of the gospel we are compelled to count bodies that claim to belong to the lord jesus christ, and yet have neither the heart to preach his doctrines nor the courage to proclaim his law. in all ages there have been sects of nominal christians, who form a part of the church of christ in the same sense that the outside scales of a shell-bark hickory are a part of the tree, and who are ever ready to compromise with the world and tolerate all fashionable follies. worldly men would manage the affairs of a church in the same manner that they would conduct a political campaign. the argument is, that in order to be popular, and grow rapidly in numbers and in wealth, the church must lay as few restrictions as possible upon candidates for admission, and as seldom as possible come into collision with the pleasures and the passions of the multitude. mr. bright, in a recent speech in the british parliament on the disestablishment of the irish church, gives, in a sentence or two, a correct description of this policy which we have here mentioned: "the right honorable gentleman, the member from bucks, argued very much in favor of the established church on the ground that there ought to be some place into which people can get who would not readily be admitted any where else. the fact is, what the right honorable gentleman wants is this: that we shall have an established church which has no discipline, and that any one who will live up to what may be called a gentlemanly conformity to it may pass through the world as a very satisfactory sort of christian." but the wisdom of this world is foolishness with god. this mercenary policy fails by the very measures to which it resorts. when the wicked see no distinction between the church and the world they cease to respect the church. even the hypocrite finds his occupation gone when a profession of religion means nothing, just as the counterfeiter stops work when the bank fails and its notes are no longer current. thus the cunning of men overleaps itself. on the other hand, the church that boldly joins issue with sin wins moral power with every blow, and secures the respect even of the enemy. thus they who feebly seek to save their lives lose them, while those who are ready to lose life for christ's sake and the gospel's find it. the principle stated is of infinite importance, and we must neither forget it nor distrust it for an hour. all who fear god will confess that we are not to withhold the truth nor compromise with sin, even if the multitude desert our altars to crowd where the cross is lighter or its offense has wholly ceased. but is it true that worldly craft and policy will fail even as a policy? let another question answer this. other things being equal among rival denominations, have not the purest in doctrine and the strictest in morals always been the most successful? churches grow weak by lowering the standard of morals. when there is no discoverable difference between the church and the world, the church is no longer loved, or venerated, or believed. it becomes powerless to pull down the strongholds of sin; it can no more stir the heart, nor rouse the conscience, nor reach the mysterious depths of our nature; it ceases to meet the religious wants of those whose hearts god has touched, and men turn away unsatisfied from its shallow waters. the scorner will be loud in his denunciations of religionists whose vows are but the breath of the moment, and whose professions mean nothing. even the soul convinced of guilt and danger will be afraid to trust to the guidance of a church which has in it so little of the divine, so little of the power of god. methodism took at the beginning, and has held to this day, what some might regard as extreme positions on the subject of slavery, worldly amusements, and the drinking customs of the times. what is the verdict of history? have we damaged ourselves by our fidelity to the right? some timid, half-convicted people have doubtless been repelled from our communion by the strictness of methodist discipline and the boldness with which we have assaulted the wrong, but who believes that the church would have grown more rapidly by compromise and cowardice? who believes that it would be wise, even according to the wisdom of this world, to compromise with evil now? zion is not "lengthening her cords and strengthening her stakes" in a scriptural manner when she "stretches the curtains of her tent" to shelter dancing, card-playing, and wine-bibbing converts. if these should come in crowds, offering on these conditions to join us, we could not receive them. to do so would be to act as madly as would the general who, in an enemy's country, commands his soldiers to throw away their arms, call in the sentinels, and level the intrenchments, in order to gain a few timid recruits who would not wear the uniform an hour if they thought that it meant war. nor is our argument disproved by the history of modern ecclesiastical organizations which have been less rigid than our own church. in an intelligent community, where the bible is read, their laxity is always against them. and in those very denominations the really pious, whose influence and example are the very salt of the body, to preserve it from putrefaction, and without whom it would hardly be recognized as a religious body at all, do not join in these questionable practices themselves, nor do they advocate them in others. the way in which the world reasons about a facile church is well illustrated by a conversation which actually took place not long ago between a sort of a minister and a shrewd, irreligious rich man, whom he wished to get in his little fold. "mr. b----," said the clergyman, "almost all your family have joined the church, and i think it is about time for you to do the same." "o, i am not fit to join the church. i am not at all pious, you know," was the reply. "but", said the minister, "you are aware that we are not very strict. our church does not require as much as some others." "but i am not right," said mr. b----. "i sometimes get angry and swear, and that will not do for a member of the church." "o, well," answered the minister, "you do not mean any harm by it, do you? that need not hinder." "but, parson, that is not all. i am in business. i trade horses, for instance, and make the best bargain i can; and some people say that i tell lies in making my bargains." "o, well," said the parson, "it is right for us to take care of our interests. that need not hinder you." "now, look here, parson," said our friend, somewhat excited, "what good will it do me to join your church if i need not be any thing but what i am? i am not a christian now, i know; but if i ever join the church, i mean to be one." even the world, unsaved, dim in vision, and hard in heart, has learned enough of the truth to despise those who are ready to sacrifice religion for the sake of numbers, and the pecuniary and social strength which numbers bring. if the methodist episcopal church should abandon her traditions, and retreat from her present high position in morals, her apostasy would be attended by a fearful loss of religious power. if such an exhortation were allowable, i would call on all upon whom devolves the oversight of the church to stand firm for the strict morals of methodism. there is always a difficulty in maintaining scriptural discipline. to enforce it is often painful to the pastor. it sometimes disturbs the membership and the community, interrupting friendly intercourse and exciting evil passions; nevertheless, we can not give up church order. the pressure can be escaped only by a complete abandonment of discipline. concessions and compromises merely transfer the battle to another point, where we must again fight, our forces demoralized by defeat and the enemy emboldened by victory. if there is any place which we can hold against the enemy, any line where we can muster our forces and repel invasion, it is on the frontier. the king who fails to meet his foes the moment they set foot within his territory is already conquered. drawing the line, and taking her stand in favor of total abstinence from all that intoxicates, the methodist episcopal church has kept herself pure from the sin and shame of intemperance, and yet not one in ten thousand of her members is ever arraigned for violation of the stringent rule. could the church tolerate what is called "moderate drinking" without being compelled to deal with multitudes whom moderate drinking had led into the depths of drunkenness? for the same reason it is easier to keep our young people from objectionable diversions than to discipline them for the grosser inconsistencies into which indulgence would speedily lead them. will it be said that if we are so rigid our young people will leave us and join other communions? be it so, if it must. they who are in haste to sell their membership in the church for so poor and small a mess of pottage can do us little good if they remain. _they go out from us because they are not of us._ a thousand dancing, wine-bibbing, card-playing, theater-going church members will not furnish one worthy candidate for the christian ministry, not one devoted class-leader, not one pious man or woman ready for the spiritual work of the church of god. if they leave us in order to seek a more congenial home, we can better afford to lose than to keep them. the rubbing out of minus quantities increases the sum total. and if any other church, so called, imagine that they can make their swarm the stronger by hiving our drones, they are certainly welcome to try the experiment. if there be a noble emulation that may justly prompt us to "labor more abundantly" than others, and excel them if we may, in gospel successes, we need not fear the rivalry of any fashionable, worldly, easy-going denomination. such as these will never "take our crown." pure doctrine, a faithful ministry, unwavering adherence to the divine law of morals, a devoted, holy, earnest laity, alone will win the prize. but let us not flatter ourselves with the idea of a vantage-ground which no one else has the wisdom to see nor the grace to occupy. no low degree of morality will suffice to place us at the head of the sacramental host, or even give us a position among the leaders. others as well as ourselves see the beauty of holiness, and are striving to put on the robe "white and clean" which is "the righteousness of saints." almost every branch of the church of christ has taken the alarm, and, by its leading ministers or resolutions passed in ecclesiastical councils, has spoken emphatic words of warning. it would be easy to fill scores of pages with these utterances, coming from churches differing widely in doctrine and in usage. a few extracts, with the sources whence they emanate, will show us the sentiments and convictions of the general church in our whole land. the general assembly of the presbyterian church thus spoke half a century ago: "on the fashionable though, as we believe, dangerous amusements of theatrical exhibitions and dancing, we deem it necessary to make a few observations. the theater we have always considered as a school of immorality.... with respect to dancing, we think it necessary to observe that however plausible it may appear to some, it is perhaps not the less dangerous on account of that plausibility.... let it once be introduced and it is difficult to give it limits. it steals away precious time, dissipates religious impressions, and hardens the heart." the general assembly of reaffirmed the action of the session of , condemned card-playing--to which attention had been called by a memorial--and "affectionately exhorted all the members of the church" to avoid "all recreations and amusements which are calculated to impair spirituality, lessen christian influence, or bring discredit upon them in their profession as members of a christian church." bishop m'ilvaine, of the protestant episcopal church, thus declares his judgment on the same subject: "let me now turn to two objects, in which there is no difficulty of discrimination--the theater and the dance. the only line i would draw in regard to these is that of entire exclusion. and yet, my brethren, i am well aware how easy it is for the imagination to array both of these in such an abstract and elementary simplicity, so divested of all that gives them their universal character and relish, that no harm could be detected in either. and the same precisely can be easily done with the card-table and horse-race." bishop mead, also of the protestant episcopal church, thus condemns dancing: "as an amusement, seeing that it is a perversion of an ancient religious exercise, and has ever been discouraged by the sober-minded and pious of all nations, on account of its evil tendencies and accompaniments, we ought conscientiously to inquire whether its great liability to abuse, and its many acknowledged abuses, should not make us frown upon it _in all its forms_. i will briefly allude to some of the objections to it. when taught to the young at an early age, it is attended with an expense of time and money which might be far better employed. it promotes the love of dress and pleasure, to which the young are already too prone; it tempts to vanity and love of display; it induces a strong desire to enter on the amusements of the world at an early period, in order to exhibit the accomplishments thus acquired, and to enjoy a pleasure for which a taste has been formed; it leads the young ones exactly into an opposite direction to that pointed out in the word of god." in their episcopal address of , the bishops of the methodist episcopal church south thus speak: "this is no time to abate our testimony against worldliness in all its forms. our church has never faltered in its teaching or modified its tone in relation to dancing, theaters, the manufacture and sale of ardent spirits, drunkenness, revelings, and such like, as demoralizing and fatal to godliness. now that we are threatened with these evils coming in like a flood, we renew our warning." in the young men's christian association held a general convention in albany, new york. delegates were present from all parts of the united states and the british provinces. the question of amusements was carefully considered, and the conclusion reached was set forth in a formal resolution, thus: "that we bear our energetic testimony against dancing, card and billiard-playing, as so distinctively worldly in their associations, and unspiritual in their influences, as to be utterly inconsistent with our profession as the disciples of christ." and last of all, but not least in the wisdom of the sentiments uttered, nor in the faithfulness of its warnings, we cite the pastoral letter of the provincial council of baltimore, the voice of the bishops of the roman catholic church. it is dated may, : "the dangerous amusements, prominent among the evils we have to deplore, and which is an evidence of the growing licentiousness of the times, may be reckoned a morbid taste for indecent publications, and the frequency of immoral or positively obscene theatrical performances. no entertainments seem sufficient to satisfy the fast degenerating spirit of the age unless they be highly sensational, and calculated to gratify the most prurient appetites. we can hardly say who deserve a stronger condemnation, the actors who pander to the most vitiated tastes, or the audiences who encourage, by their presence, and applaud these grossly indelicate exhibitions. both actors and spectators appear to vie with each in their rapid march down the slippery path of sin. we deem it particularly our solemn duty to renew our warning against the modern fashionable dances, commonly called 'german,' or round dances, which are becoming more and more the occasions of sin. these practices are so much the more dangerous as most persons seem to look upon them as harmless, and indulge in them without any apparent remorse of conscience. but divine revelation, the wisdom of antiquity, the light of reason and of experience, all concur in proclaiming that this kind of entertainments can not be indulged in by any virtuous persons, unless they be more than human, without detriment to their souls, or even be present to take part in such amusements, where the eye is dazzled by an array of fascinating objects, where the senses are captivated by enchanting music, and the heart is swayed to and fro amid the surrounding gayety and excitement." with these facts, arguments, appeals, and testimonies we leave the subject to the solemn consideration of the reader, believing that the position which we have taken is rational, scriptural, and safe, "by manifestation of the truth commending" itself "to every man's conscience in the sight of god." "finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue and if there be any praise, think on these things." [illustration: decorative] * * * * * transcriber's notes: maintained original spelling, hyphenation and punctuation. obvious printer errors have been corrected. +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | note: | | | | tags that surround words =materials required:= indicate | | bold. tags that surround the words _a hurdle race_ indicate | | italics. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ the child's rainy day book _other books by mary white_ how to make pottery how to do beadwork how to make baskets more baskets and how to make them [illustration: building a piece of pottery with coils of clay--as the indians do] the child's rainy day book by mary white illustrated by the author [illustration] new york doubleday, page & company copyright, , by doubleday, page & company published, october, _all rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages including the scandinavian._ to my sister anna white sherman and her children roger, herbert, elizabeth, rosamond and anna contents chapter page i. a foreword to mothers ii. simple home-made toys and games iii. basket weaving iv. knots with raffia and cord v. what a child can do with beads vi. clay working vii. indoor gardening viii. gifts and how to make them ix. paper flowers and toys x. games for two or three to play list of illustrations building a piece of pottery with coils of clay--as the indians do _frontispiece_ facing page playing the bean bag game planning a book house basket weaving knots with raffia and cord: . the beginning of a ping pong net. . a turk's-head knot. . raffia work bag. . doll's hammock. . a rattan napkin ring a little garden for a little girl making a chrysanthemum a ball-and-fan race list of figures figure page rattan ring a b c l a leather tag case a foreword to mothers child's rainy day book chapter i a foreword to mothers how shall we answer the ever recurring rainy day question, "what shall i do?" we hear it wherever children are kept indoors--from whatever cause. all of us are concerned with the answer--mothers, fathers, teachers, big brothers and sisters--even maiden aunts. we all know what is coming when jack turns from the rain-splashed window with a listless face and dorothy, none too gently, thrusts her favourite doll into the corner with its face to the wall. one might suppose that, with the hosts of mechanical toys, of costly french dolls, each with a wardrobe as much in keeping with fashion as that of a society woman, the small sons and daughters would be content for a year of rainy days. but that proves how little one knows about it. such toys are too perfect, too complete, and very soon they are pushed into the background. the boy's real treasures are the willow whistle that uncle tom taught him to make last summer, the boat that he is building and the game he invented--a favourite one with all the children. bedtime and getting-up time for the french doll may come and go, while she lies forgotten in the corner, for is there not a dress to be made for the clothespin doll? we need only to look back about twenty years to realise how natural all this is. what do we remember? not the toys that were brought us when father and mother went on a journey. they are very hazy--these visions of a doll in silk and lace, and a donkey with real hair and a nodding head. what became of them afterward? we forget. but the games we "made up," the paper dolls we cut from fashion papers, the target we laboured to make of coiled straw--these are as fresh in our memories as if we had played with them yesterday. shall we not answer the question by giving the children something to do, not by entertaining them but by helping them to entertain themselves. simple home made toys and games chapter ii simple home made toys and games _a bean bag game_ =materials required:= / yard each of blue, red, yellow and green gingham, quarts of small white beans, a length of no. rattan, a bunch of red raffia, a tapestry needle, screw eyes, / yards of strong twine, a spool of no. white cotton, a needle, scissors. very many good games can be played with bean bags. the following is a simple one to prepare. cut from blue gingham three pieces, each five inches wide by twelve long. other pieces of the same size are cut from red, yellow and green gingham--three of each colour. these pieces are made up into bags by doubling them and stitching up the sides with strong thread; leaving one end of each open. this will give a small girl something to do for more than one rainy day. when they have all been stitched, fill each bag half full of small, white beans, turn in the edges of the open end and sew it up, over and over, with strong thread. be very careful to sew the seams securely, for if you do you will have a good, durable bag instead of one from which the beans are always dropping. the other part of the game is a large ring of rattan ten inches across, which is made as follows: soak a piece of no. rattan in water for a few minutes. while you are waiting for it to get pliable thread a tapestry or darning needle with red raffia. whittle an end of the rattan into a long point. next coil the rattan into a ring, ten inches across; lay the end of your raffia, with its tip turned to the right, on the rattan ring and bring the needle, threaded with raffia, around and over the ring. the raffia is then brought under the long end of rattan, around it and down under the ring, binding the second coil of rattan to the first with what is called a "figure eight" stitch (see fig. ). hold the ring firmly in your left hand while you sew with the right. first under and around the lower coil, then up, under and around the upper one. it is pretty work, besides making such a firm, light ring. [illustration: playing the bean-bag game] [illustration: fig. ] when you have bound the second coil to the first almost all the way round the ring, cut the rattan so that it will overlap the beginning of the ring about an inch, and whittle it to a long, flat point. continue the figure eight stitch as far as you can, then bind the raffia round and round the ring, and sew back and forth through the raffia covering till it is secure. you can then cut it close to the ring. [illustration: rattan ring] fasten a screw eye at the top of the frame of the playroom door and one on each side of the doorway, on the edge of the frame, four feet and a half from the floor. tie a piece of strong twine, about a yard long, at the top of the ring and another, three-quarters of a yard, on each side. fasten the upper string to the screw eye above the doorway so that the ring will hang with its lower edge about four feet from the floor. tie the other strings through the screw eyes to right and left of the doorway. the game is now complete. from two to four children can play it. each has three bean bags of one colour and takes his turn at throwing them through the ring, standing on a mark eight feet from the doorway. one player keeps the score, and whenever a bean bag is sent through the ring the child who threw it is credited with five points. the one who first succeeds in making fifty points is the winner. _a book house for paper dolls_ =materials required:= a large blank book with a stiff cover, and preferably with unruled pages, a number of old magazines, some pieces of wall paper the size of the book's pages, several pieces of lace or other fancy paper, a tube of paste, scissors. any little girl who is looking for a home for a family of paper dolls will find a book the very best kind of a house for them. and then such fun as it will be to furnish it! first comes the house hunting. a large new blank book with unruled pages would be best of all, and that is what we want if we can get it, but of course all doll families cannot live in such luxury. an old account book with most of its pages unused will make an excellent house. i have even known a family of dolls to be cheerful and happy in an old city directory. it will be easy to find furniture in the advertising pages of magazines, rugs can be cut from pictures in the same magazines and bits of wall paper are used for the walls of the book house. tissue paper of different colours and papers with a lace edge make charming window curtains, while thicker fancy papers may be used for portieres. on the cover of the book a picture of the house, or just the doorway, may be pasted. the first two pages are of course the hall. for this you will need a broad staircase, hall seat, hardwood floor and rugs, with perhaps an open fireplace or a cushioned window seat to make it look hospitable. try to find furniture all about the same size, or if you cannot do this put the smaller pieces at the back of the room and the larger ones toward the front. next there will be the drawing room to furnish, then the library, the dining room and pantry, not forgetting the kitchen and laundry. use two pages for each room, leaving several between the different rooms, so that the book shall not be too full at the front and empty at the back. if it does not close easily remove some of the blank pages. cut out the different pieces of furniture as carefully as possible, paste them in as neatly as you can, and you will have a book house to be proud of. flowered papers will be the best for the bedrooms, or plain wall papers in light colours; and with brass bedsteads, pretty little dressing tables and curtains made of thin white tissue paper (which looks so like white muslin), they will be as dainty as can be. now and then through the book it is interesting to have a page with just a bay window and a broad window seat with cushions and pillows--as if it were a part of a long hall. hang curtains of coloured or figured paper in front of it so that they will have to be lifted if anyone wants to peep in. when you have finished the bathroom, playroom, maids' rooms and attic there will still be the piazza, the garden, the stables and the golf course (covering several pages), to arrange. if you have a paint box and can colour tastefully you will be able to make your book house even more attractive than it is already. [illustration: planning a book house] _united states mail_ =materials required:= a pasteboard box, about by inches, some old white pasteboard boxes with a glossy finish, a box of paints, unused postal cards, a tube of paste, pen and ink, scissors. this is a fine game for rainy days. any boy can make it and if he likes to use pencil and paint brush he will find it as interesting to make as to play with. get a small pasteboard box about six inches long by three wide and an inch deep--such as spools of cotton come in. cover it with white paper, pasting it neatly and securely. then draw and colour on the lid a mail bag, which should almost cover it--either a brown leather sack or a white canvas one with "united states mail" on it in large blue letters. do not forget to draw the holes at the top of the bag and the rope which passes through them to close it. you have now something to hold the counters for the game. these are made to look like letters and postal cards. to make the letters, rule a set of lines three-quarters of an inch apart, across a box or cover of shiny white cardboard. then another set, crossing the others at right angles. these should be an inch and a quarter apart. the postal cards are ruled in the same way (on real, unused postal cards), so as to make oblong spaces. cut these out with a sharp pair of scissors. there should be thirty cardboard pieces and at least twenty-five of the postal cards. now draw on the cards, with a fine pen and black ink, marks like those on a postal card--the stamp in the corner, the lettering and the address. make pen lines on all of the pasteboard letters like fig. and paint a tiny red dot on each to look like sealing-wax. on the reverse side of one write something to look like an address, and paint in large letters "d.l.o.," (to stand for dead letter office) in the corner. six other letters are also addressed in the same way, but have instead of "d.l.o." a red stamp and a blue one, the latter wider than it is high, to represent a special delivery stamp. nine pieces should also be cut from brown cardboard in the shape shown in fig. to represent packages. paint three red stamps in the corner of each of these. [illustration: fig. ] _rules for playing united states mail_ [illustration: fig. ] two or more persons can play this game. when the pieces are equally divided among the players, the one on the right of the dealer throws a piece on the table, saying as he does so, "i send a letter to b----," for example, and then counts five, not running the numbers in together, but as deliberately as a clock ticks. before he has stopped counting, the player on his right must name a city or town beginning with b. if he succeeds in doing this he wins the piece, otherwise it goes to the player who threw it. when all the pieces have been played each player counts his score. the value of the pieces is as follows: each postal card counts one, each letter two, each package six. the special delivery letters are worth ten points each, and the person who is so unfortunate as to have the letter with "d.l.o." upon it loses ten points from his score. _flying rings_ =materials required:= a flour-barrel top, / yard of yellow cheesecloth, large wire nails, lengths of no. rattan, a bunch of red raffia, a bunch of green raffia, a bunch of yellow raffia, a tapestry needle, some small tacks, a hammer, a tube of glue, a sheet of note paper. boys and girls will enjoy this game, and both can help in making it. the materials are simple and easily obtained, which is also an advantage. first of all we shall need a flour-barrel top. this should be covered with yellow cheesecloth drawn smooth and tight and tacked in place along the outer edge. measure with a rule to find the exact centre and make a pencil mark on the cheesecloth at that point. another mark is made above this one, half way between it and the edge. a third mark is placed at the right of the middle one and half way between it and the edge, as well as one to the left and one below it at the same distance from the centre. a large nail is driven into the barrel top at each of the five marks (see fig. ). two screw eyes are then put in at the top, about a foot apart, so that it can be easily hung. next draw on note paper that is not too stiff the figures , , , and . make them about an inch high and quite thick and go over them with ink. with a small pair of scissors cut out these numbers and paste each under a nail, as shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. ] next there are the rings to be made. follow the directions given on pages and , using no. rattan instead of no. , and these rings should only be two and a half inches across. make three rings of each colour, green, red and yellow, and the game is complete. _to play it_: hang the barrel top on the wall or against a screen and see who can throw the most rings on the nails standing six feet away. each player has three rings of a different colour, and each in turn throws his rings at the mark. when he succeeds in tossing a ring on one of the nails he scores as many points as the number under the nail indicates. _how to make a cork castle_ =materials required:= a number of old corks, the larger the better, a tube of glue, a penknife, a piece of pasteboard a foot square, a sheet of dull green tissue paper. [illustration: fig. ] such fascinating castles can be made from old corks--or if you live near a cork factory you can get plenty of odds and ends of cork bark that will be even better for the purpose. with a penknife cut small bricks, half an inch long by quarter of an inch wide and an eighth of an inch thick. if you are planning a round tower, such as is shown in fig. , make the bricks in the wedge shape shown in fig. . cut them as nearly alike as possible, but it will do no harm if they are not perfectly regular; the castle will only look more ancient and interesting. it is wonderful how much the bits of cork look like stone. when you have a good supply of bricks ready you may begin to build. use glue to stick the blocks together; the kind that comes in a tube is the easiest and cleanest to handle. leave spaces for doors and windows, and for the roof use a large flat cork from a preserve jar. mark it off into battlements such as are shown in fig. , and cut them out carefully. then glue the roof securely on the walls of the castle. [illustration: fig. ] where shall we place it now that it is made? a green mountain side is a good location for a castle, and it can be made quite easily. bend a piece of pasteboard about a foot square (an old box cover will do) into dents that will almost break it, these look quite like hills and valleys and sharp crags, especially when they have been covered with green tissue paper. to do this spread a layer of paste or glue all over the pasteboard and then press the paper upon it. if it wrinkles, so much the better, for it will look more like grass and growing things. _a doll's shaker bonnet_ =materials required:= a piece of fine straw about x inches, some scraps of plain-coloured china silk, / yard of straw-coloured ribbon, / of an inch wide, / yard of narrow ribbon the colour of the china silk, a spool of straw-coloured sewing silk. [illustration: fig. ] the daintiest little shaker bonnet may be easily made by a little girl to fit one of her dolls. from the brim of an old leghorn, or other fine straw hat, cut two pieces, the shapes shown in figs. and . for a doll six or eight inches long the front piece will need to be about five inches long by an inch and a half wide. bind the curved edge of the front piece with the straw-coloured ribbon, sewing it through and through with small stitches, using straw-coloured sewing silk. sew one edge of a piece of the straw-coloured ribbon close to the curved edge of the back piece from a to aa (see fig. ). mark, with a pencil, a dot at the middle of the curved edge of the back portion and one at the middle of the straight edge of the front part. pin the two parts together at these dots and sew the edges together. in doing this you will have to turn back the ribbon which edges the back portion. next bring the ribbon forward to cover the rough edges of the straw where the two parts join and sew its loose edge along on the front portion. cut a piece of china silk seven and three-quarters inches long by an inch and three-quarters wide. make a narrow hem all around it. a tiny pencil mark is then made on the lower edge of the back piece and another at the middle of the silk strip. gather the silk just below the hem on the upper edge and sew it to the lower edge of the bonnet at the back. stitch a piece of narrow ribbon eight inches long at each side of the front, for strings, and the bonnet is done. [illustration: fig. ] _leather and string puzzle_ =materials required:= a strip of thick leather, inches long by wide, a piece of heavy linen string a foot long, a knife. [illustration: fig. ] with a sharp knife, a small strip of leather and a bit of strong string any boy can make this simple puzzle. it is easier to make, however, than it is to do, as the boy's friends will discover. fig. will show how it is made. a strip of leather five and a half inches long, an inch and a quarter wide at one end and five-eighths of an inch at the other, is first cut. then, starting at about five-eighths of an inch from the narrow end, cut with a sharp knife two slits down the middle of the piece three-eighths of an inch apart and three inches long. at three-eighths of an inch from the wide end a small piece, one-quarter of an inch square, is cut out of the middle of the strip (see fig. ). from the scraps of leather remaining cut two pieces, each one inch long by five-eighths of an inch wide. make a hole in the middle of each. then pass a piece of stout linen cord eleven inches long back of the long, open strip in the large piece of leather, leaving the ends of equal length. pass both ends down through the square hole and tie each of them securely through the hole in the middle of one of the small pieces of leather. this completes it. [illustration: fig. ] the object is to try to get the string, with the small piece of leather at either end, off the large piece of leather without cutting or untying it. the only way to do this is shown in fig. . holding both ends of the string, close to where it passes back of the narrow strip in the middle of the large piece of leather, pull the strip out through the small square hole. one of the small pieces of leather can then be slipped through the loop thus formed, releasing the string. _a bed for a little doll_ =materials required:= an oblong pasteboard box an inch or more longer than the doll it is to hold, / yard of flowered or striped muslin, / yard of blue and white seersucker or other cotton, some cotton or wool wadding, / yard of thin white cotton cloth, / yard of outing flannel, / yard of white piqué. almost any little girl who chooses to do so can make this dainty bed for one of her small dolls. she will only need an oblong pasteboard box with a cover, and large enough to hold the doll comfortably. if mamma will let her have some pieces of cotton, flowered, striped and plain and a little cotton or wool wadding, she will have all the materials she needs. first cut from blue and white striped cotton a bag the length and width of the box. stitch it neatly together around three sides, turn it right side out and fill it with cotton or wool wadding. turn in the edges on the fourth side and sew them together over and over. with a darning needle threaded with blue cotton or silk the mattress can be tufted here and there. the needle is first run through to the under side, then one little stitch is taken, bringing the thread back again to the right side, where the two ends are tied tightly together and cut close to the knot. if these tufts are made at equal distances, say one inch apart, all over the mattress it will make it look very "real." [illustration: fig. ] the pillow is made in the same way as the mattress, except that it is not tufted. cut the sheets and pillowcase from thin white cotton, allowing enough for hems. make the pillowcase a quarter of an inch wider and about an inch and a quarter longer than the pillow. stitch it around both sides and on one end and hem the other end. tiny blankets may be cut from outing flannel, and a spread made from a piece of white piqué or other thick white wash material. the bed can now be made up, but it will look very plain. a fluffy canopy and valance (or flounce) of flowered or striped white muslin will improve it wonderfully. the cover is set on end and the head of the bedstead is pressed into it (see fig. ), making a frame for the canopy. measure from the front corner of this frame to the middle of the front and cut a piece of muslin half again as wide as this measurement and long enough to reach from the top of the frame to the bottom of the bed. another piece the same size is cut, and then both are turned in and gathered at the top, hemmed on the other edges and sewed into place on the top edge of the canopy frame, so that the two will meet in the middle. they are both looped back against the front edge of the frame, see fig. , and sewed there securely. the valance or flounce around the lower part of the bed is cut wide enough to allow for hemming at the bottom and to turn in at the top. it should be long enough to reach once and a half around the bed. turn in the upper edge of the valance, gather it to fit the bed and pin it in position. then sew it with a strong needle and coarse thread on to the box through and through. this makes as comfortable and pretty a bed as dolly could wish. _floor baseball_ =materials required:= a piece of white chalk, a piece of sheet lead, by inches, and as thick as a fifty-cent piece, or strands of scarlet raffia, a tapestry needle, a gimlet. this is a delightful game for a rainy day, and the preparations for it are very simple. in fact, when you have fashioned the disk of lead with a raffia covering, there is nothing to provide but a piece of chalk. you can buy, from almost any plumber or tinsmith, for a few cents, a scrap of sheet lead two or three inches square and about as thick as a half dollar. upon this piece of lead lay a half dollar, draw around it with a pencil and cut out the circle with a sharp, strong pair of scissors. it cuts as easily as cardboard of the same thickness. bore a hole one-quarter of an inch across through the centre of the disk with a gimlet or sharp-pointed awl. it is possible to use the disk just as it is, but it makes less noise if it is covered with raffia. to do this, thread a worsted (or tapestry) needle with raffia--the grass-like material that you have seen used for making baskets. tie the other end of the raffia through the disk, as shown in fig. a, put the needle down through the hole in the centre, up through the loop in the raffia (see fig. b) and pull your strand up close to the edge. this will make a stitch like that shown in fig. c--what sailors call a half hitch and mothers a buttonhole stitch. make more of these stitches around the disk, until finally it is entirely covered (see fig. ). if the strand of raffia gives out before the disk is covered sew the short end through the last two or three stitches on the edge of the disk and start a new piece by bringing the end through the last stitch on the edge. the short ends of both strands should be covered with the buttonhole stitches as you go on. [illustration: fig. a] [illustration: fig. b] [illustration: fig. c] [illustration: fig. ] now mark the diagram shown in fig. on the playroom floor with chalk, making the diamond two feet long by a foot and a half wide. in the centre of it is a circle, four inches across, which is home. each player takes his turn at throwing the disk, standing on a line eight feet away. if he throws the disk into the space marked he counts that he has a man on first base; if on , that he has one on second; and if on h, a home run is counted. if by chance with his first and second throws he puts the disk into and and with the third throw sends it into h he will have three runs to his credit. should he throw the disk into f he loses one point from his score, and when he has thrown the disk outside the diamond three times he is out. [illustration: fig. ] _a rug for the doll's house_ =materials required:= a small wooden frame, a piece of cream-coloured canvas, a ball of dull green worsted, a ball of cream white worsted, a steel crochet needle, no. . hooked rugs such as our grandmothers used to make are great fun to do. why should not a little girl make one of finer materials for the floor of her doll's house? either an empty slate frame or a wooden frame such as is sold by dealers in kindergarten supplies for chair caning will do very well to hold the canvas of which the rug is made. instead of strips of woolen we shall use worsted of various colours, and a strong steel crochet needle will be needed for "hooking." when you have decided upon the size of the rug you wish to make cut a piece of canvas an inch wider and longer than it is to be, and make a hem a quarter of an inch wide all around it. with a needleful of white linen thread sew the rug into the frame, taking the stitches through the edge of the canvas and around the frame until it is securely fastened in. suppose a green rug is planned, with a group of white stripes at each end. it will be well to mark on the canvas where the stripes are to run before beginning the work. the worsted should be wound into balls. starting with an end of the green worsted, at the lower right side of the frame, hold it under the rug and hook it up through the canvas with the crochet needle. draw up a long enough end so that it can be cut off when the rug is finished and leave a thick texture. do not make all the loops the same height, for if now and then one is left too low to cut with the others it will make the rug wear better. one after another of these loops is drawn through the canvas, leaving two threads of canvas between every two loops, in a straight line across the rug. when the edge of the rug is reached a row is made above the one just finished, bringing the worsted from left to right. so it goes on till the rug is finished, only changing the ball of green worsted for a white one when it is time to make the stripes. after the hooking is done, the tops of the longer loops are cut off with a sharp pair of scissors, so as to make a smooth, soft rug. it will wear better if it is lined. when you have completed this rug you may want to make others with patterns woven into them. draw the pattern on the canvas with a soft lead pencil and it will be quite easy to work. basket weaving chapter iii basket weaving the rattan of which the baby's go-cart and mother's armchair are woven came from a far-away forest in india. troops of monkeys may have swung upon the very pieces on which your baby brother is bouncing, for the rattan hung from tree to tree in long festoons. one day some brown natives cut it down and stripped it of its leaves. it was then packed in bundles and sent to this country. the hard, shiny bark cut into strips has been woven into cane seats for chairs, and the inner part or core of the rattan was cut by a machine into the round strands that you see in wicker furniture. it takes a man's strong hands to weave great armchairs and baby carriages, but boys and girls can make charming little mats and baskets as well as tiny chairs and tables for the doll's house, and other interesting things. dealers in kindergarten supplies sell the rattan in different sizes, from no. , which is as fine as cord, to no. or no. , which is almost as thick as rope. you will only need the medium sizes, nos. , and , for your weaving, with some raffia--the soft but strong fibre that the gardener uses for tying up his plants. this you will also find at the kindergarten-supply store. a pair of shears, a yardstick and an awl are the only tools you will need. [illustration: fig. . twist of rattan] rattan comes in long skeins or twists (see fig. ). always draw it out from the loop end, so that it will not get tangled and break. two sizes of rattan are generally used in making a basket, the thicker for the spokes or ribs and the fine for the weavers. both must be soaked in warm water to make them soft and pliable. as many spokes as are needed are first cut the required length and tied together with a piece of raffia. the weavers are then coiled into rings, so that they also can be soaked. this is done as follows: starting near one end of a length of rattan, coil it into a ring. twist the short end around this ring once or twice to hold it (see fig. ). coil the rest of the strand into rings, one above the other, and twist the other end of the rattan around them all until they are held securely. have ready a basin or pail of warm water--not hot--and let the spokes and weaver soak in it for ten or fifteen minutes. [illustration: fig. ] suppose we begin with a mat, which is started, just as the baskets are, at the centre. _a mat or stand for a teapot_ =materials required:= -inch spokes of no. rattan, -inch spoke of no. rattan, weaver of no. rattan. feel the ends of your weavers and you will find that some are stiff while others are almost as soft and pliable as cord. choose a soft one to start the mat. the four spokes arranged in pairs are crossed in the centre, the vertical ones being above the others, or nearer to you. place the short spoke, seven inches long, between the upper parts of these vertical spokes. they are held in position by the left hand, which is, as always, the one that holds, while the right is the weaving hand. an end of the weaver (which has first been unwound) is placed along the horizontal spokes, back of the vertical ones, with its tip toward the right. the forefinger of the right hand now presses the weaver across the vertical spokes and down behind the horizontal ones on the right (thus binding the end of the weaver securely), next over the lower vertical spokes and behind the horizontal ones on the left (see fig. ). this is repeated, and then, starting with the upper vertical spokes, the spokes are separated and the weaving begins (see fig. ). if you want to do close, even work, do not pull the rattan as you weave, but _press_ it with the forefinger, under and over the spokes as close to the work as possible. the spokes should be very evenly separated, for upon this much of the beauty and strength of your baskets will depend. think of the regular spaces between the spokes of a wheel and how much trouble one badly placed spoke would make. when there is just enough weaver left to go around once, the edge is bound off. this is very much like overcasting. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] after going under one spoke and over another, the weaver is passed under the last row of weaving just before it reaches the next spoke. it then goes behind that spoke, in front of the next and under the last row of weaving before the next spoke. when a row of this binding has been made around the edge the mat is finished with the following border: cut the spokes all the same length, not straight across but slanting, so as to make a point that can easily be pushed down between the weaving. then hold them in water for a few minutes. when they are quite pliable the first spoke (any one you choose to begin with) is pushed down between the rows of weaving beside the one to the left of it or spoke no. . no. is pushed down beside the next one to the left, no. , and so on all the way around the mat. take care that at least an inch of each spoke is pressed below the edge of the mat. _small candy basket_ =materials required:= -inch spokes of no. rattan, inch spoke of no. rattan, weavers of no. rattan. this little basket may be woven of rattan in the natural colour and afterward dyed or gilded, or one can buy the rattan already coloured. weave a bottom like the beginning of the mat, and when it measures two inches in diameter (that is, from side to side, across the centre), wet the spokes and turn them up. the spokes should be turned up away from you, for the side toward the person weaving is always the outside of the basket and the weaving should go from left to right--as you read. bend them over the middle finger so that the sides of the basket will be curved. [illustration: basket weaving] place the bottom of the basket on your knee, with the side which in starting was toward you turned down and the spokes bent upward, and do the weaving of the sides in that position. in joining a new weaver lay it across the end of the old one, back of a spoke (see fig. ). [illustration: fig. . joining weavers] the weaver at first should not be drawn too tight, but allowed to go easily, though it must be pressed closely down upon the row beneath it. when about three-quarters of an inch has been woven up the sides, the spokes are drawn gradually closer together by a slight tightening of the weaver, and this should be continued until an inch more has been woven. bind off and finish with this border. the spokes for the border should measure at least four inches from the last row of weaving to the end of the spoke. cut and soak as described in the directions for making a mat. spoke no. crosses the next one on the left, or no. , and is pushed down beside the next spoke, no. . no. crosses no. and is pushed down beside no. , and so on around the basket. _doll's table of rattan_ =materials required:= -inch spokes of no. rattan, -inch spoke of no. rattan, weaver of no. rattan, a piece of fine wire, or inches long, several strands of raffia, an awl. perhaps you did not think it was as interesting to make a mat as to weave baskets, but you will be glad you know how to do it when you see some of the things that can be made with mats. for example, this dear little wicker table, just the size for a doll's house and the shape for an afternoon tea. two groups of spokes, one of three and the other of three and a half, are crossed in the centre. the short spoke should be put between two others, never on the outside of a group. the mat is woven like the other mat and basket until it is three and a half inches in diameter, when the edge is bound off. bring each spoke across the next one and press it down beside the next, as in the border of the basket, except that the long end is not cut off, but brought out between the fourth and fifth rows of weaving on the under side of the mat. the loops of the border are drawn in so that they will not be more than a quarter of an inch beyond the weaving. the long ends of the spokes (which are to form the legs of the table) are brought together and bound with a piece of fine wire just under the centre. separate them into three groups of four spokes each. the odd spoke is either cut off or whittled very thin and bound in with one of the three groups. a strand of raffia is now doubled around two or three spokes, above the wire binding, and wound tightly around one of the groups until it has covered two inches, from the binding down. at the end a half hitch or one buttonhole stitch is made, to keep the raffia from slipping. it is then wound up again to the top. the raffia is brought down the second leg as far as the first one was wound; here it is turned with a half hitch and brought up again in the same way. the third leg is also wound down and up again, with a half hitch at the bottom to hold it. after this third leg has been covered the raffia is brought in and out between the legs, where they separate, in order to spread them more. it is then tied and the ends are cut close. finally the spokes at the end of each leg are cut slanting so that the table will stand firmly. _doll's chair of rattan_ =materials required:= -inch spokes of no. rattan, -inch spoke of no. rattan, -inch spokes of no. rattan, piece of no. rattan about inches long, weavers of no. rattan, several strands of raffia, an awl. would you like to make a tiny high-backed chair to use with the tea table in the doll's house? it is only a trifle more difficult to make than the table. two groups of twenty-inch spokes of no. rattan, one having three and the other three and a half spokes in it, are crossed at the centre, bound around twice with a weaver of no. rattan and woven into a mat three inches in diameter. after binding off the edge the following border is made: each spoke is brought down beside the next one, as in the border of the mat, except that the long end is drawn out between the second and third rows of weaving on the under side of the mat. when all the spokes have been brought out in this way underneath the mat, or seat, the four groups of three spokes each which are to form the legs are so divided that the vertical spokes in the centre of the chair seat shall run toward the front and back of the seat. the thirteenth spoke is whittled to a thin point and bound in with one of the other groups, which are wound with raffia down to the end, turned with a half hitch and brought up again. a neat way to start the raffia is to thread it across a row of weaving in the chair seat, just above the group it is to bind. a piece of no. rattan about nine inches long is coiled into a ring and held within the space enclosed by the legs, about half way down, where it is wound around with a strand of raffia and bound securely to each leg. the back of the chair is formed by inserting four spokes of no. rattan, ten inches long, beside those in the seat, at that part of the seat which has been chosen for the back. to do this push a sharp pointed awl in between the weaving, beside a spoke, draw it out and you will have made room for the new spoke to run in. bend the spokes up and weave back and forth upon them with a no. weaver, turning on the outside spokes. needless to say, the weaver must be very soft and pliable in order to make these sharp turns. you will find that you can make almost any kind of a back you choose. if you decide to make an oval-shaped back, then when you have woven it high enough, bring each of the outside spokes over and down beside the other one, running it in between the weaving. the inner spokes are crossed at the centre and run down beside the outer spokes. to make an armchair insert six spokes instead of four at the back of the seat and weave the outer spokes in with the others for a few rows. they are then bent over and forward to form the arms. each is cut to the desired length and run in beside one of the side spokes in the seat. _a bird's nest_ =materials required:= -inch spokes of no. rattan, -inch spoke of no. rattan, / weavers of no. rattan, a bunch of raffia a tapestry needle, no. . at the bird market in paris charming little nests are sold, woven of rushes on spokes of brown twigs, in the shape of an indian tepee. they are intended for caged birds, who cannot build their own nests of sticks and grass and horsehair from the fields and wayside. some free birds like them, too--wrens, for example. a boy or girl who has made the mat and basket and doll's furniture will have no difficulty in weaving one of these nests. then there will be the delight of hanging it in a tree (not too near the house) and watching to see what bird will choose it when nesting time comes. [illustration: fig. ] let us weave a nest that shall be light and yet firm. spokes of rattan will give it strength and weavers of raffia will make it soft and comfortable. two groups of spokes, one of four and the other of four and a half, are crossed at the centre, bound three times with a strand of raffia and woven into a bottom an inch and a half across. another weaver is then added and an inch of pairing is made. pairing, or _bam tush_, as the indians call it, is a simple stitch. two weavers are started, each one behind a spoke (see fig. ). the one on the left is brought over the first spoke, under the next and down in front. it is now the turn of the second weaver, which also passes over the first spoke on its right, under the next and outside, where it is held down in front while the other weaver repeats the process. so it goes on around the nest. the spokes are then wet so that the bottom may be formed into a bowl shape, with sides rounding up from the very centre. a row of pairing in no. rattan is next woven to hold the slippery raffia in place. this is followed by five-eighths of an inch of raffia woven in pairing, the sides still being flared. two rows of pairing in no. rattan are then woven, drawing the spokes in very slightly. at this point, which is the widest, the nest should measure eleven inches around the top. a row of under and over weaving is started, and at the place which has been chosen for the doorway the weaver is doubled back on a spoke and woven from right to left until it comes to the second spoke to the right of the one it first doubled around. it is brought around this spoke, thus making the beginning of a doorway, which has an unused spoke in the centre of it. the weaver then returns to the spoke it first doubled around, where it doubles back again. this is repeated until the doorway is an inch and a quarter high. two rows of pairing in no. rattan are then woven all the way around, forming a firm top for the doorway, where they cross it. the spokes are drawn in closer and closer with rows of pairing in raffia, until, when an inch and a half has been woven, they meet at the top. the ends of the spokes are left uneven lengths and bound around with a strand of raffia threaded through a tapestry needle. a loop to hang it by is made of two strands of raffia, five and a half inches long, covered close with buttonhole stitch in raffia. the spoke in the centre of the doorway should be cut at the lower part of the opening, just above the weaving, and after it has been wet until quite pliable it is bent and pressed up between the weaving beside the upper part of the same spoke. knots with raffia and cord chapter iv knots with raffia and cord sailors' knots are of course fascinating to boys, but why should not girls enjoy making them, too? think of the dolls' hammocks, the work bags and twine ball nets one can make, and think of being able to tie a good, square knot--one that will hold--instead of the "granny knots" that brothers and boy cousins laugh at! [illustration: fig. ] of course you know how to tie the simplest knot of all--the one shown in fig. . let us call it the loop knot, for it is made by tying the ends of a strand together to form a loop. you have used it often for that purpose, i am sure, and sometimes to tie two pieces of string together. you can make a pretty and useful sponge bag of raffia in the natural colour with this knot. the wet sponge will not hurt the raffia, and in such an open bag the air soon dries it. _knotted sponge bag_ =materials required:= strands of raffia, a length of no. rattan, a tapestry needle. [illustration: fig. ] roll a length of no. rattan into a ring, as described on page , so that it can be soaked in warm water till it is pliable. cut it into three pieces, each forty-seven inches long. tie an end of one of these pieces into a ring seven inches in diameter and twist the long end in and out once around this (see fig. ). at the end of this row the ends, where they meet, should overlap an inch. if they are longer, cut them off with a slanting cut and tie them tightly together with a piece of raffia. two more rings, the same size as the first one, are made with the other pieces of rattan. hang one of the rings where you can reach it easily, on a low bedpost, for example. double a strand of raffia and tie it through the ring as shown in fig. , drawing the knot up quite close. twenty-two strands are knotted on in this way. space them along the ring about an inch apart, and, beginning with any pair of strands, tie the right-hand one with the nearest strand of the next pair on the right, making an even mesh at an inch from the first row of knots. continue this all around the ring, when you will have made one row. ten more rows are knotted in this way. then bring the ends of all the strands straight down together and tie them below the centre of the ring with a piece of raffia. the ends are cut off evenly at about two inches and a half from where they were tied, to form a tassel. the two other rings are used for the handles of the bag. lay one of them against the ring at the top of the bag so that the places where the rings are tied will come together. thread a tapestry needle with raffia and bind the rings together with buttonhole stitch for an inch. then sew through and through the binding to make it secure and cut the end close to the ring. the other ring handle is bound to the opposite side of the top ring in the same way. _a doll's hammock_ =materials required:= strands of raffia, a tapestry needle. even simpler to make than the sponge bag is a doll's hammock of raffia. it is knotted in just the same way. [illustration: fig. ] lay twelve strands of raffia evenly together. bend them to find the middle, or "middle them," as the sailors say. lay the short end of another piece of raffia on the middle of the twelve strands, with its tip turning toward the left, and wind the long end round and round from right to left, binding them together for two and three-quarter inches. bring the two ends of this binding together to form a loop, wind a strand of raffia tightly around them (see fig. ), and tie the ends securely. you will then have twenty-four ends to knot together, two and two, as the knots in the bag were made. pin the loop on the cushion of a chair or tie it to a low hook or to the doorknob, so that you can pull the strands taut. the first row of knots is tied about two inches from the loop and after that the rows are only an inch apart. the finishing of the edge of the hammock is of course different from the bag. [illustration: fig. ] it is done in this way: in starting the second row of knots the left strand in the first pair is of course left untied, and, after knotting the row across, the right strand of the last pair is also left free. when the third row is started the loose strand on the left side of the hammock is knotted in with the left one in the first pair of strands in this row (see fig. ). in other words, the strands which are left untied at each side of the hammock when the second, fourth, sixth and all the even numbered rows have been knotted, are tied in with the outside strands in the next uneven numbered row. to make a hammock for a little doll thirteen rows of knotting will be enough. when the last row has been tied bring the ends of the strands together, start a new strand at two inches from the last row of knots, and bind the ends together tightly for two and three-quarter inches to make a loop like the one at the other end. after the loop is finished cut the ends close to the binding, and with a tapestry needle threaded in the end of the binding strand sew it through and through, to secure it, and cut its end close to the binding. _how to tie a square or reef knot_ [illustration: fig. ] once upon a time a little girl was carrying a bundle of cookies by the string, when suddenly the knot slipped and the cookies rolled in every direction, over the sidewalk and into the street. if the baker's wife had known how to tie a square knot instead of that useless "granny," the accident would never have happened. i wonder if you have ever had an experience of this kind. if so, i am sure you will like to learn how to tie the ends of a piece of string together so that they cannot slip. [illustration: fig. ] take the ends of a piece of string, one in each hand. cross them and bring the upper end down under the long end of the other piece (see fig. ). now turn it back in the opposite direction above the first part of the knot, to make a loop, and pass the other end down through it (see fig. ). in this way each end of the string will come out beside its own beginning. _two hitches_ there is no simple knot that you will find more useful than the half hitch. it is described in the directions for making the game of floor baseball in chapter ii. two of these half hitches, side by side, are called by sailors a "clove hitch." in making nets this clove hitch is used to attach the first row of meshes to the top line or head rope, as it is called. [illustration: fig. ] another use for the half hitch is in the process that sailors call "kackling" (see fig. ). this is used to prevent two ropes from rubbing against one another, or chafing. a beautiful handle for a basket or bag may be made with this knot. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] take two pieces of rope and some light cord, or, if it is to be the handle of a basket, two pieces of heavy rattan, no. , and some no. rattan with which to do the knotting. if you use the rattan be sure to soak it for ten minutes in warm water and choose a soft piece of the fine rattan for knotting. hold the heavy pieces of rattan side by side, lay an end of the fine rattan upon them at the middle (see fig. ), with its tip turning toward the left, and hold it there with the left hand, while with the right you bring the long end up and around both of the large pieces of rattan up and under the short end of the fine piece. it is then brought down and around the two large pieces of rattan and the end is passed down through the loop made in starting the hitch (see fig. ). draw the tying strand up tight and bring the long end up and around the large pieces of rattan and up under the loop it left in starting (see fig. ). take care to keep the fine rattan wet so that it will be very pliable; if it dries it will surely crack as you tie it. _net making_ if you would like to make a ping-pong net or a net for crabbing, you will find it quite easy to do and very interesting. after you have made these small nets you may feel like trying a tennis net if you have plenty of time and patience. [illustration: fig. ] at a hardware store you can buy tightly twisted cord of the size you wish to use in making your net. it is generally sold by weight. if you are planning to make a ping-pong or tennis net you will also need a heavy piece of cord for the head rope. a crab net would of course be netted on to an iron ring attached to a long wooden handle. a needle such as is shown in fig. may be made quite easily by any boy who can whittle. [illustration: fig. ] when you have wound your cord on the needle, stretch the head rope taut between two convenient points, the backs of two chairs, for example, and begin at the left by tying one end of the cord to it. make a loop the size you wish the mesh to be and fasten the cord to the head rope with a clove hitch, or two half hitches (see fig. ). when you have worked as far as you wish, get on the other side of the net and work back again. this row of meshes and all that follow after are made by fastening them to the upper row with a sheet bend (see fig. ). after the second row is finished come around to the other side again and knot the third row. when the net is wide enough knot it to a piece of rope the size of the head rope with a row of clove hitches. _the weaver's knot_ [illustration: fig. ] in weaving bead chains on a loom, and in doing other things, you will often need to tie a new piece of thread or cord to a very short end. the weavers have a knot they use for this purpose, and as it is a simple one perhaps you would like to learn it. hold the old end in a vertical position (that is, as if it were standing up), lay the new piece back of it, its short end turning toward the left and reaching an inch or more beyond the vertical thread. bring the long end around in front of the vertical thread, up back of its own short end on the left and across in front of the vertical thread (see fig. ). all these threads are held in position by the fingers and thumbs of the left hand, while the right hand brings the thread around. the vertical or old end is now turned down through the loop in front of it and there held by the thumb, while with the fingers of both hands the long and short ends of the new thread are pulled up tight. _turk's head_ there is a beautiful knot called by sailors a "turk's head." girls will find that they can make the prettiest buttons imaginable with it, using silk cord of any colour, and both boys and girls will enjoy making napkin rings of rattan with a more open arrangement of the same knot. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] to make a button take a yard of cord, and at about four inches from one end bend it into a loop (like the one shown in fig. ), about half an inch across. the long end should come above the short one. next make a second loop lying above and to the left of the first one (see fig. ), bringing the long end under the short one left in starting. the long end is then brought over the left side of the second loop, under the left side of the first loop, over the right side of the second loop, under the right side of the first and around to the beginning, inside of the short end (see fig. ). this makes one row, or the beginning of the button. if you have a bodkin with a large eye, the long end of the cord can be threaded into it and this will make the work easier. the next row follows the first one exactly--close to it and always on the inside. when the cord has followed in this way four times, to complete four rows (keeping the button form always in mind and moulding the cord into that shape), a firm little button will have been made. [illustration: fig. ] _napkin ring_ =material required:= length of no. rattan. [illustration: at the top of the plate is the beginning of a ping-pong net. below it at the right is the turk's-head knot. still lower the knotted raffia work bag hangs. on the left is swung a doll's hammock of knotted raffia and above it a rattan napkin ring, made with the turk's-head knot] with a piece of rattan in the natural colour or a length of coloured rattan you can make a useful and very pretty napkin ring by following the directions just given, with only one change. in beginning the second row (shown in fig. ), the long end is brought to the left or outside of the short end and continues around on that side. five rows may be made instead of four. keep the ring form in mind all the time, have the rattan wet and pliable and mould it into the shape of a ring, keeping the top and bottom as nearly the same size as possible. _green raffia work bag_ =materials required:= a bunch of green raffia, a length of no. green rattan, a tapestry needle. _a tapestry needle_ when your mother was a little girl her mother used to make with linen twine a kind of coarse, heavy lace called macramé. one of the knots she used was called "solomon's knot," and that is the one you will use if you decide to make this work bag. a length of no. rattan and a bunch of raffia, both in a soft shade of green, will be needed. these you can buy of a dealer in basket materials for a few cents. twist three rings like those for the upper edge and handles of the sponge bag described in the first part of this chapter. hang one of these rings on a low bedpost or on a hook placed so that you can reach it easily when seated. take two strands of raffia, double them around the ring, and with the four ends thus made tie a solomon's knot as follows: hold the two upper strands straight and taut. bend the under strand on the left across them to the right (see fig. ), and bring the under strand on the right over the end of the left strand, back of the middle strands and through the loop made by the left strand in starting. another pair of strands is knotted on in the same way, and another, until there are twenty-two groups around the ring. starting anywhere on the ring, the two strands on the right of a group are brought beside the two on the left of the next group to the right. the middle pair of these four strands are held straight down, while the strands on the right and left are tied upon them in a solomon's knot. this knot should be half an inch from those in the first row. make a double knot this time as follows: after tying the knot (shown in fig. ), take the end which is on the right after the first knot has tied, bring it over to the left, above the middle strands, and bring the one on the left down over the end of the strand which was on the right, back of the two middle strands and up through the loop left in starting the right strand (see fig. ). the whole row is made in this way. ten rows are knotted, each one about half an inch from the row above. the bag is finished in the same way as the sponge bag, with a tassel and two handles. if you choose you can line it with silk of the same colour as the raffia, or, if it is to be used for a duster bag or to hold grandmother's knitting, it will not need a lining. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] what a child can do with beads chapter v what a child can do with beads long, long ago when the world was young, the child who wished for a gay and pretty necklace for her little brown throat strung berries and seeds or pieces of shell and bone that her father ground smooth by hand and pierced for stringing. for thread there were grasses and fibres of plants or sinews of deer. indian children sometimes used beads of clay, and so did the little egyptians, for the fine clay by the river nile made beautiful beads, as well as pottery. the children of the north--the little esquimaux--had beads of amber, and the indian tribes farther south strung shells that look so much like the teeth of animals one can hardly believe they are anything else. look for them at the natural history museum and you will see that this is so. nowadays there are of course many more kinds of beads--beads of glass, china, gold and silver, and even of semi-precious stones. after all, though, the child who lives in the country or by the sea can gather the most interesting kind of all--such as were strung by those children who lived so long ago--seeds, berries, shells and seaweed. gather them on a sunshiny day and store them away for use in the dull hours when you are obliged to be indoors. the seeds of muskmelons are soft enough to pierce; watermelon seeds will take more effort and a stronger needle. then there are the orange berries of bittersweet and the red ones of holly. haws or hawthorn berries are a beautiful red, too, and perhaps you will find in a neighbour's garden a bush of job's tears--gray, white or brown. the grape-like seaweed which bursts with a pop when you step on it makes very pretty beads. cut each one close to the bulb, yet far enough to leave a short piece of the stem on each side of the bead. pierce the bulbs while they are still wet, and after they have dried for a few days they will be ready to string. apple and flax seeds, beans and peas before they have dried, make excellent beads. a few of the small glass beads which come in bunches may be used with these natural beads, and will set them off wonderfully. although they are usually sold in bunches, eight skeins to a bunch, the skeins can sometimes be bought separately. olive-green crystal beads of the size that dealers call no. - are beautiful with red berries, and what could be prettier to string with brown seeds or job's tears than gold-lined crystal beads? let us use them in making a chain for a muff or fan. _muff chain in brown and gold_ =materials required:= brown seeds or job's tears, a bunch of gold-lined crystal beads, no. - , a spool of no. white linen thread, a no. needle. have you ever seen any job's tears--the interesting tear-shaped seeds of an east indian grass? it grows very well in this climate, and you may like to raise it yourself. think of being able to pick beads from a plant of your own! be careful to boil these beads before stringing, for a little grub sometimes lives in them, and he may appear when you least expect him or may even make a meal of the thread on which the beads are strung. if you have not the job's tears, apple seeds will look almost as well, or you can buy at the grocer's whole allspice. use a no. needle and a piece of no. white linen thread four inches longer than you wish the chain to be when it is finished; two yards and a quarter is a good length. string a seed and draw it down to the middle of the thread, then string some of the gold-lined crystal beads for about three-quarters of an inch. a seed is next threaded on, and then quarter of an inch of gold-lined beads. keep on in this way, first threading a seed and then quarter of an inch of gold-lined beads, until there are only two inches of the thread left. tie this end through a bead to keep the others from slipping off. thread your needle with the other end of the strand and start by stringing three-quarters of an inch of the gold-lined beads, then a seed and quarter of an inch of gold-lined beads. when this end of the strand has been strung--just as the other was--to within two inches of the tip, tie the two ends together and the chain is finished. _raffia and bead chain_ =materials required:= strands of rose-pink raffia, a bunch of large rose-pink crystal beads, fine darning needles. [illustration: fig. a] another pretty and simple chain is made of large rose-pink crystal beads strung on pink raffia; or you can use seeds or berries instead of the crystal beads, in which case the raffia will have to be split. tie the strands of raffia together at one end, and on each of the other ends thread a fine darning needle. string one bead, then pass both needles through a single bead and through another and another (see fig. a). two beads are then slipped on each strand (see fig. a). next both needles pass through three beads, and so on to the end of the chain. tie the ends securely. _double chain of seeds and beads_ =materials required:= a bunch of crystal beads, letter e, large beads of a deeper shade or the same number of seeds or berries, a spool of no. white linen thread, a no. needle. [illustration: fig. ] a double chain like the one shown in fig may be made of crystal e beads strung with seeds or larger beads of a deeper shade. measure off a piece of white linen thread, no. , double the length you wish the chain to be. three yards twenty-two inches will make a chain sixty-five inches long, which is a good size. in one end of it thread a no. needle and string one large bead, or seed, which should be pushed down to the middle of the strand. here it may be tied, to hold it in place. next string two inches and a half of e beads, then another large bead, or seed, and so on to the end of the strand, where the tip is tied through the last bead. the other end of the strand is then threaded and two inches and a half of the e beads are strung, the needle passes through the next large bead on the end first strung (see fig ), and two and a half inches more of the e beads are threaded. so it goes on to the end of the chain--the needle always passing through the next large bead on the strand already strung, after two inches and a half of e beads have been threaded. _braided raffia chain_ =materials required:= strands of pale green raffia, darker green crystal beads, no. . [illustration: fig .] a braided raffia chain with a cluster of three crystal beads every few inches is so simple that any little girl can make it. choose pale green raffia and beads of a deeper shade, and it will look like clover leaves on their stems. string twenty-two of the green crystal beads, no. size, on a strand of split raffia. on two other strands thread the same number of beads. tie the thin end of each piece around the last bead, so that it cannot slip off. the other ends are all tied together. now pin the knot securely to a cushion, or tie it to a hook at a convenient height and braid the three strands together closely and evenly for about two inches. then slip a bead from each piece up close to the work and braid it in as shown in fig. . this will make a clover leaf. after braiding two inches more slip another bead on each strand up close to the work and make another leaf. when it is finished tie the ends together securely. _a daisy chain_ =materials required:= half a bunch of olive green opaque beads, no. - , half a bunch of milk white beads, no. , skein yellow crystal e beads, a spool of no. white linen thread, a no. needle. [illustration: fig. ] next best to making a daisy chain out-of-doors is to string one of beads. and this rainy-day chain will last as many months as the real chain would hours. first string sixteen green beads, then eight white ones. run the needle down through the first white bead and string a yellow one. next pass the needle through the fifth white bead (see fig. ) and draw the thread up tightly. this makes a daisy. string another stem of sixteen green beads and make a daisy as you did the first one. the whole chain is strung in this way. _chain of watermelon seeds strung with beads_ =materials required:= fresh watermelon seeds, a bunch of pink crystal e beads, a spool of no. white linen thread, a no. needle. a chain that is very pretty and effective may be made with watermelon seeds and pink crystal e beads, the colour of the inside of a watermelon. the seeds can be pierced quite easily with a no. needle. take two pieces of white linen thread, well waxed, the length you wish the chain to be, and two needles. tie an e bead on the end of each piece of thread. lay them side by side and string four more e beads on the strand at the right. pass the needle on the left up through the three middle beads of the five on the right strand (see fig. ), and string one more e bead. next thread a seed on each strand and string the e beads in the same way. so it goes on for the whole length of the chain. [illustration: fig. ] if you are fond of playing indian and have no indian costume, you ought to be happy. that seems a strange thing to say, but the reason is this: you can have all the fun of making a costume yourself, you can learn how to do it in the indian way, and after it is finished it will be far more like the dress worn by western indians than those that are sold ready made. suppose we begin with the belt. it is woven on a loom--not an indian loom, which, as perhaps you know, was a bow strung with several strings which served as the warp threads for the belt or chain. possibly you have a loom of your own and know how to use it; but if not you can either buy one for twenty-five or fifty cents, or, what is still better, make one yourself. a simple, good loom may be made from a cigar box. _a home made bead loom_ =materials required:= an oblong cigar box, about / inches deep, small sticks of wood / inches long and / -inch square, / -inch screws, small screw eyes, tacks, a sharp knife, a screw driver, a hammer, sand paper. choose a good strong cigar box, one that is quite shallow, and remove the cover. rule a line one inch from the bottom of the box on each long side and draw a sharp knife across the line several times until the upper part separates easily from the lower without injuring it. smooth the tops of the sides with sandpaper. fasten each of the small sticks of wood inside a corner of the box, to strengthen it. this is how it is done. drive one of the half-inch screws up from the bottom into the end of the stick, another into it through the side, and two, one near the top and one lower down through the end of the box, into the stick. on the outside of the box at one end six round-headed tacks are driven in a row an inch and a half from the top and about three-quarters of an inch apart. drive six screw eyes in the same position on the opposite side. cut a row of notches on the top of each end of the loom, about one-sixteenth of an inch apart, and deep enough to hold a thread. the loom is then ready for weaving. chalk-white beads are much used by the bead-weaving indians like the sioux and winnebagos, especially for the ground-work of their belts. let us choose them for the background of the belt and weave the design in indian red and blue. _indian bead belt_ =materials required:= bunch chalk white beads, no. - , skeins each indian red and dark blue beads, no. - , spool no. white linen thread, spool no. white linen thread, a no. needle, a piece of wax. [illustration: fig. ] cut twenty-two pieces of no. linen thread about six inches longer than you wish your belt to be. tie a loop at one end of each piece and slip it over the round-headed tacks at one end of the loom. bring the long ends one at a time through twenty-two of the notches at the top of the loom and stretch them across to the notches in the opposite end. draw them taut and tie them through the screw eyes. these make the warp threads for the belt. as you will see by the pattern, the belt is twenty-one beads wide and you have twenty-two threads. this is so that there will be a thread on each side of every bead. thread the needle with no. white linen thread. tie one end of it to the warp thread on the left (as you hold the loom with the end on which are the screw eyes toward you). bring the needle out to the right below the warp strands, string twenty-one white beads and press them up between the warp strands, so that one bead will come between every two threads. run the needle back from right to left through the beads, making sure that it goes _above_ the warp threads. this makes one row. the whole belt is woven in the same way, except that when the figure begins the beads should be strung according to the pattern. for example, in making the first row of the pattern shown in fig. , you will string nine white beads, three indian-red ones and nine more of the white. the next two rows will be the same, and then you will string six white beads, three indian-red, three blue, three indian-red, and six white. wax the thread you weave with, so that the sharp-edged beads will not cut it. in joining new needlefuls use the weaver's knot shown on p. . armlets are woven in the same way, but much wider--about forty beads wide and long enough to go around the upper part of the arm. tie them together with strips of chamois, knotted in with the ends of the warp strands. head bands, bracelets and chains are also woven in this way. _bead wrought indian shirt_ =materials required:= large chamois skin, smaller chamois skins, spool white linen thread, no. , a no. needle, / bunch dark blue beads, no. - , / bunch indian red beads, no. - , / bunch white opaque beads, no. - , large indian red opaque beads. [illustration: fig. ] although this shirt and the moccasins and leggings that go with it are so simple to make, you are almost sure to need the help of your mother or governess in planning and cutting them. the shirt is the size for a child of seven or eight, but it can easily be enlarged so as to fit a boy of twelve or fourteen. it is made by the pattern shown in fig. , which is drawn on the scale of one inch to a foot. one large chamois skin and two of medium size will be needed. double the large skin lengthwise to cut the upper part of the shirt. this should be ten inches deep and a yard wide. cut at the centre a slit about nine inches long for the neck. the ends form the sleeves. lay the two smaller skins together and cut from them the lower portion of the shirt. the back and front are alike, each measuring nineteen inches wide at the top, twenty-two inches at the bottom, and fifteen inches deep. make a pencil mark at the centre of each lower edge of the upper part and one at the middle of the top of both of the lower pieces. turn up an inch at each lower edge of the upper part of the shirt and baste the doubled edge of one side against the top of one of the lower parts, keeping the pencil marks at the middle of each together. sew the edges together over and over with no. white linen thread. join the other side in the same way. the overlapping edges of the upper part of the shirt should be kept on the right side. sew the sides of the shirt together with a row of backstitching, four inches from the edge. the edges are cut into a fringe four and a half inches deep at the ends of the sleeves and three inches on the sides and bottom of the shirt. the edges of the upper part which hangs over the lower are also cut into a short fringe. work two narrow bands of bead embroidery round the neck, and if you like you can also work a band half way down the lower part of the shirt and one near the lower edge just above the fringe. they are made in this way: thread a no. needle with white linen thread and make a knot at the other end. start at the right of the neck close to the edge. bring the needle through to the outside of the shirt. string four beads, press them down close to the shirt and bring the needle through to the inside. this makes a stitch which runs up and down at right angles with the neck opening. bring the needle out again on a line with the place where it went in and close beside it, string four more beads, bring it up and run it in again just at the left of where the work began (see fig. ). this simple stitch is the one that is most used by the indians in embroidering their buckskin shirts, leggings and moccasins. string different colours, according to the pattern. several designs for this work are shown in figs. , and . if you wish to decorate the shirt still more, cut strips of chamois about a quarter of an inch wide and five inches long, pierce a row of holes, two together, at intervals of an inch and three-quarters across the shirt (see fig. ), bring the strips of chamois through them and tie them once. string a large indian-red bead on each end and tie a knot to keep it from falling off. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] _indian leggings_ =materials required:= small chamois skins, / bunch dark blue beads, no. - , / bunch indian red beads, no. - , / bunch white opaque beads, no. - , a spool of no. white linen thread, a no. needle. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] nothing could be easier to make than indian leggings, and you can put as much work or as little as you choose into the embroidery. cut from two small chamois skins two pieces in the shape shown in fig. . they should each be eight and three-quarters inches at the lower edge, twelve inches at the top and twelve high. the design shown in fig. will be simple and effective, and narrow bands like those in fig. may be worked along the edge that laps over and across the bottom. six strands of chamois about eight inches long are brought through the leggings on each side at an inch from the edge. these form the fastenings. [illustration: fig. ] _beaded moccasins_ =materials required:= medium-sized chamois skin, / bunch dark blue beads, no. - , / bunch indian red beads, no. - , / bunch white opaque beads, no. - , spool no. white linen thread, a no. needle, spool no. white linen thread, a no. needle. to make the pattern for these moccasins you need only stand on a sheet of brown paper and draw with a pencil around your bare foot so as to get its exact size and natural form. cut the pattern out and take it to a shoemaker, who will cut from it a pair of leather soles. the uppers you can cut from a paper pattern copied from the shape shown in fig. . it will not be difficult to plan them to fit the soles, for you have only to measure the distance around the outer edge of the soles and make the uppers measure about an inch more along the outer edge, to allow for the seam at the back and for a little fulness across the toe. work them in some simple design, like the one shown in fig. . a pretty beaded edge is made with a stitch which is very like the one used in working the bands. thread a needle with no. white linen thread and bring it through the top of the moccasin close to the edge. fasten the end by taking two or three small stitches. string six beads of a colour used in working the bands and bring the needle through the edge from the inside of the moccasin out, about a quarter of an inch from the beginning, making the stitch shown in fig. . before starting the next stitch pass the needle under the first one. work the whole upper edge of the moccasin in this way, then stitch it together up the back, making a seam a quarter of an inch wide. it should be stitched on the inside and then turned right side out. the uppers are stitched on to the soles with a no. needle and a well-waxed piece of white linen thread, no. . should this prove too hard work for small fingers the moccasins may be taken to a shoemaker to finish. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] _bead wrought silk bag_ =materials required:= a piece of silk or ribbon, inches wide by / inches long, bunch of crystal beads, no. - , the same colour as the silk, skein of no. - beads of a contrasting colour, a spool of letter a sewing silk of the same colour as the silk, a no. needle, a yard of inch-wide ribbon the colour of the silk. [illustration: fig. ] the daintiest little silk bag may be made by any small daughter for mamma or a dearly-loved aunt to carry a bit of lace work or some other treasure. a piece of soft ribbon five inches wide and seven and three-quarters inches long in a pale shade of lavender makes a charming bag. a network of lavender crystal beads of the same shade, with a pearl or gold-lined crystal bead at the point of each diamond-shaped mesh, gives the finishing touch of daintiness (see fig. ). start by threading a fine needle with a piece of sewing silk the colour of the bag. fasten the end by taking one or two small stitches near the left side of the strip of silk at about two inches from the lower edge. string six lavender beads, one pearl and seven lavender beads, and take a stitch a quarter of an inch from the beginning and on a line with it. now run the needle down through the last bead strung (see fig. ), and string six more lavender beads, one pearl and seven lavender. another stitch is made a quarter of an inch from the last one, the needle is run down through the last bead, and it goes on in this way until a row has been made across the piece of silk. the bag is then stitched up the sides and around the bottom on the wrong side and turned right side out. bring the needle attached to the beadwork down through the six lavender beads and one pearl one, at the left side of the first half diamond made, and string six lavender, one pearl and six lavender beads. pass the needle through the next pearl bead on the right in the row above and string another six lavender, one pearl and six lavender beads to make another half diamond. so it goes on around the bag. this row and all the other ones are only attached to the row above, not to the silk. the last row of netting should reach a little below the bottom of the bag. a twisted fringe is then made as follows: run the needle down through the beads on the left side of the first mesh in the row just finished, through the pearl bead at the point, and also pass it through the pearl bead on the back of the bag which lies just beneath it. string thirty lavender beads and pass the needle up through the beads on the right side of the first mesh and down again through those on the left side of the second mesh. it runs through the pearl bead at the point of the mesh and the one under it at the back of the bag. string thirty more beads and twist the thread on which they are strung once around the right side of the loop just made. the next loop is made in the same way--passing the needle up through the beads in the right side of the second mesh, down through those in the left side of the third one, and through the pearl bead at the point of the mesh at the front and the one below it at the back. thirty more beads are then strung. when you have made this fringe all across the bottom of the bag, fasten the end of the silk by sewing it two or three times through the bottom of the bag. finish the top of the bag with drawing strings as follows: turn in a hem three-quarters of an inch wide at the top of the bag and baste it. hem it around neatly with the lavender sewing silk and make a casing for the drawing strings to run through, by putting a row of backstitching a little over a quarter of an inch above the bottom of the hem. there should be two little holes made on each side of the bag on the outside of the hem between the stitched seam and the bottom of the hem. they are put there so that the ribbon drawing strings can run into the casing. you can make them with an ivory or metal piercer called a stiletto, or any other tool that has a sharp round point. the neatest way to finish these holes is to sew the edges over and over with a needleful of sewing silk. half a yard of narrow ribbon should be allowed for each drawing string. thread it in a bodkin, or ribbon needle, which is run into one of the holes at the side of the bag, through the casing at the lower part of the hem, all around the bag and out of the hole beside the one where it went in. now tie the ends of this drawing string together, thread the other one through the bodkin and run it into a hole on the opposite side of the bag, through the casing all around the bag and out of the little hole beside the one where it went in. the ends of this piece are also tied, and then the bag is done. [illustration: fig. ] clay working chapter vi clay working have you ever noticed how, when it rains, one road will dry at once, and on another your footprints will hold the water like a cup for hours? do you know the reason for it? the first road is sandy, and so the water filters through the coarse particles and soon disappears. the other is mostly of clay, which is close and fine, and after your foot made that little hollow it was doubtless half baked by the sun so that it became like natural pottery. you probably know all this, and have felt with your own fingers the difference between the sand, in which you have built forts and dug with your shovel in the summer and played with on the kindergarten sand table in winter, and the soft, smooth clay that you have formed into bird's nests, eggs and other things in kindergarten. years and years ago, before our great-great-great-grandfathers were even thought of, some man noticed the same thing that you do--that one part of the earth held water for hours, while it disappeared so quickly from other parts--and it set him thinking. why not make a bowl in which he could carry water when he was travelling or hunting in dry places? this is the way, some wise men think, the making of pottery began. cups and small vessels could easily be moulded from small lumps of clay, but large pieces--great bowls and jars--it was soon found would have to be formed in a mould. shallow baskets, pieces of gourd or fruit rind, were the moulds in which these large pots were started. in beginning the bottom, either a small piece of clay was patted flat into a form like a cookie and fitted into the bottom of the mould, or else a strip of clay was coiled round and round into a mat shape, working the coils together with the fingers. the sides were almost always built up with coils of clay, then, with the fingers and some rude tools--smooth stones, bits of shell or pieces of gourd--they were smoothed and polished. soon the potters began to decorate their vessels with patterns cut or pressed into the damp clay and even painted them with coloured clay, ground fine and mixed with a liquid. the clay objects you enjoyed making in kindergarten were not very strong. a bowl or cup that is moulded from such clay will not hold water for very long either. it will soon soften and fall to pieces. that is what happened to the first clay bowls and cups. if clay is baked in the sun it becomes a little harder and more useful--but not much--so the first clay workers found that they must bake their clay pots more thoroughly if they were to be really strong. some of the old potters--like the catawba indians--baked their vessels before the fire, and as the clay they used was very good they found it made them hard enough. in other tribes the potters made a bed of bark, set fire to it and baked the pot until when it came out it was red hot. at first the clay workers used the clay just as they found it, but when they began to make large pots and cauldrons to cook in they found that powdered shell or sand mixed with the clay made them stronger and less liable to crack in baking. [illustration: fig. ] the cooking vessels had almost always rounded bottoms, because in those days the floors of houses were of sand or soft earth into which the rounded bottoms would set and hold the pots upright. these pots were set directly over the fire and kept in position by stones or sticks of wood. some that had handles or flaring rims could be hung over the fire by cords or vines. [illustration: fig. ] the indians moulded all sorts of things out of clay besides these utensils. drums were made by stretching buckskin over the tops of earthen pots. then there were whistles and rattles, trowels, modelling tools, figures of men and animals, and many toys like those shown in figs. , and . beads were also made of clay, and so were tobacco pipes in many shapes. one would have the face of a man on the bowl, another a goat with open mouth, or a bird with its neck outstretched and bill parted, and on another the bowl would be formed by a natural-looking snake coiled up for a spring. [illustration: fig. ] in time men learned more about clays and how to mix and form and bake them, until now, as you know, pottery that is beautiful and serviceable is made all over the world, and in great factories china and porcelain made of the finest clays are moulded, decorated and fired for our use. it will be interesting to you sometime to see one of the factories where such ware is made, but although it is so fine and smooth and perfect and so useful to us, i doubt if the workmen who make it have half the pleasure in their task that the first potters had in moulding their rough cooking utensils and clay pipes. so i am glad to think that although you may never be able to make china, you can work in clay as the indians used to do, for that you will enjoy far more. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] of course you would like to make something that you can use, something that will not crumble and break like the things you modelled in kindergarten. to do this you will need to get a clay which can be baked--or fired, as potters express it--and you must have a clay that is so mixed or arranged as to bake well in the kiln (or pottery oven) to which you are going to send it. if you live near a pottery where flower pots or gray stoneware are made you can probably arrange to buy your clay there, and after your pottery is finished have it baked at the same place. the clay that is used at a stoneware pottery is arranged so as to fire at a much greater heat than the flower-pot clay, and so the ware is stronger, but the flower-pot ware will be strong enough for the things you will make. although this clay is gray before it is baked, it comes from the kiln a beautiful indian red. [illustration: fig. ] you will not need many tools beside your own fingers and thumbs. one boxwood modelling tool the shape shown in fig. , and another with more flattened and rounded ends (see fig. ) will be enough to begin with. these you can buy at a kindergarten-supply store. later you may need the sheet-steel tools shown in figs. and . dealers in hardware sell the sheet steel, and these tools can easily be cut from it--doubtless the dealer will do it for you. [illustration: fig. ] buy fifteen or twenty pounds of clay at a time, ready mixed if possible. if it comes to you in the dry state--in rock-like pieces--you must first pound it to a powder. this you can do out of doors by spreading the lumps of clay on a paper laid on flat stone and pounding them with a smaller stone, or, if it must be done in the house, spread the clay on a strong bench or table and pound it with an old flatiron. it is now ready for soaking. put a little water in an earthen crock and add the powdered clay to it, mixing it with your hand and adding clay until it is the right consistency to mould. if you find you have too much water, pour off some after the clay is well mixed, and if it is still too moist, spread it on a board in the air until it has dried out sufficiently. keep the clay in an earthen crock with a cover. pour a little water into it first, just enough to moisten the bottom of the crock, and then put in the clay. when it is to be left over night or a longer time, make deep holes in the clay with your thumb and pour water into them. lay a damp cloth over it and cover with the earthen top. if at any time it dries out so that it cannot be easily moulded, let it dry entirely, pound it to powder again and mix as already described. if you live in the country the place to work with clay will be in an outbuilding, a woodshed, barn or workshop where there is a good strong table or bench. the best place for a city child to work is a playroom where there is a wooden floor, an old table and nothing valuable to be harmed with clay or water; or a light, dry cellar. a girl should wear a long-sleeved apron and a boy a pair of overalls. in such a workshop and costume you need not give a thought to clothes or carpets. have a pitcher of water and a small bowl for the "slip"--or clay thinned with water until it is about as thick as cream--which is almost as important as the clay itself. when you are ready to begin work, take a lump of clay about as large as a grape fruit; pound and knead it on the table. next draw a strong wire through it, dividing it into halves. press the two outer surfaces together and knead out the air-holes which you will see on the inner surfaces. repeat this process several times, and all these air bubbles will finally be expelled. suppose you begin with something simple--some tiny red building bricks which will delight your small brother--perhaps even you may not feel to old to enjoy playing with such a "real" toy. _building bricks_ =materials required:= about pounds of clay, level boards, by inches, / yard of white cheesecloth, a rolling pin, a foot rule, a strong, sharp knife. the clay of which these bricks are made should be well kneaded, and it should also have a great deal of what potters call "grog" mixed through it. "grog" is baked clay pounded into small pieces--an old flower pot will do if you are using flower-pot clay. mixed with the unbaked clay it tempers it, that is, it makes it less likely to shrink and crack in baking. cover a level board with a piece of wet white cheesecloth and tack it securely upon it. mould the lump of clay into a square, by hand, lay it on the board and pound it with the thick part of your hand into an irregular square cake, then roll it with a rolling pin till it is about three-eighths of an inch thick. have ready another board the same size and covered with wet cheesecloth, lay it on top of the clay sheet and reverse it so that the clay shall be transferred to this second board. roll it again till quite smooth and set it away overnight. the next day take a foot rule and a sharp pencil and mark the clay sheet into bricks, two inches long by an inch wide. cut them out with a strong, sharp knife, but do not lift them until they are thoroughly dry, which will be in three or four days. they should then be carefully packed and sent to the pottery to be fired. _a clay whistle_ =materials required:= a piece of clay about the size of a lemon, the wooden modelling tools, a bowl of slip, a pen knife. [illustration: fig. ] the mexicans mould tiny whistles of clay, which are as simple as possible to make and very fascinating to own. if you would like to make some for yourself and your friends this is the way to do it: mould a small piece of clay into a cup shape about an inch across and three-eighths of an inch high. put it in the air to dry for ten minutes. now roll a piece of clay, about the same size, on the table with the palms of both hands (near the base of the thumb), lightly, yet so as to make the clay roll entirely around with each push. if the roll flattens from too hard pressure, pat it till it is round again and roll it until it is of even thickness--about quarter of an inch in diameter. it is then flattened evenly by patting it with the fingers, one end is cut into a long point and the coil is started on edge with the narrow side up on the top of the cup of clay, whose rim must first be wet with slip. bend the upper edge of the roll of clay in quite a little, to follow the shape shown in fig. . hold the long end of the clay strip with the left hand, while, with the thumb and middle finger of the right hand held on each side of the coil to support it, the forefinger presses it down firmly on the top of the little cup. when the coil has gone all the way around cut the end into a flat point, which will fit evenly in with the one at the beginning, and press the edges together with the flat part of the nail of your forefinger. do this where the edges of the coil come against the rim of the cup. make quick and firm yet short strokes of the nail up and down, inside the cup and out. then let it dry for a short time, about ten or fifteen minutes. roll another coil in the same way and attach it, after brushing the top edge of the clay cup with slip, bending the top edge of the coil in very decidedly so as to leave only a small opening at the top. the third coil is made in the same way, but put on so as to make the sides go straight up like the neck of a bottle or vase. one more straight coil completes the neck, and a piece of clay is then put across the top, closing it. after the whistle has dried for an hour or more a triangular hole is cut with a knife in the lower part (see fig. ), and a slit in the top. a hole is also made in the bottom. it should then be thoroughly dried for several days before sending it to be fired. not every one of these whistles makes a good clear sound, but they are so easy to mould that you will not mind one or two unsuccessful attempts when you finally make one that blows clear and shrill. [illustration: fig. ] _clay rattle_ =materials required:= a piece of clay about the size of an orange, a bowl of slip, the modelling tools. the indians used to make clay rattles like the one shown in fig. . it is formed like the whistle except that the cup-shaped piece which is made in starting should be an inch and three-quarters across and three-eighths of an inch high. roll the strips of clay as already described and brush the edge of the cup-shaped piece with slip before attaching each coil. the handle should be about three inches long. before closing the end of it drop in four or five clay pellets, about the size of small peas, which have been well dried in the sun. then seal it with a piece of clay, let it dry for several days and send it to the pottery to be fired. [illustration: fig. ] _birds' drinking dish_ =materials required:= about / pounds of clay, the wooden modelling tools, the oval tools of sheet steel, a bowl of slip, a low wide bowl, a small sponge, a knife, a ground glass slab about a foot square, a cloth in which some ground flint is tied. one of the best ways to attract the birds is to have a drinking dish, wide and generous, always ready for them on the lawn. this is of course taking for granted that you live at least a part of the year in the country. isn't it delightful to think that you can make such a dish with your own hands? it is a little more difficult than the other things you have made, but what of that--it will be worth the trouble if you can give a lawn party to the birds every day! as this is to be quite a large dish, you will need to have a mould to form it in, or at least to support the sides in starting. choose some low, wide bowl or dish, one about two inches high and ten inches across the top. have ready some powdered flint tied up in a piece of cotton cloth--you can buy it of dealers in potters' supplies or possibly at the pottery where your clay work is fired. this is to dust over the inside of the mould to prevent the clay from sticking to it. take a lump of clay, about two and a half pounds, knead and pound it until all the air bubbles are worked out. a small piece of the clay is then patted out with the hands on a table or board and rolled smooth with a rolling pin until it is three-eighths of an inch thick and about two inches wider than the bottom of the bowl you have chosen. lay it in the bottom of the mould, which has first been dusted with ground flint. press the clay lightly but carefully against the bottom and sides, making sure that it fits close against them. then cut the top edge even with one of the wooden modelling tools. with the same tool cut crisscross strokes in this upper edge and wet it with slip, to prepare it for the first coil of clay, which is made and attached like those used in forming the whistle. these coils should, however, be larger--about an inch wide and long enough to go all around the bowl once. join every coil in the same way, taking care to press each one against the sides of the mould as well as upon the coil beneath, and to smooth the inside of the bowl with your fingers and the modelling tools. after attaching a coil, let the bowl dry for ten or fifteen minutes--in the air, unless it is a cold day. be careful never to let your clay work freeze or it will be spoiled. when the bowl is about two inches and a half high set it away overnight to dry. in the morning it will have shrunk so that it will slip easily out of the mould. turn it bottom up on a table and wet the cracks between the coils with slip, then fill them in carefully with clay of the same stiffness as that of which the bowl is made. never put water or wet clay on a piece of clay work that is almost dry, or it will crack. after it has been set away for a few hours to harden, make it smooth and even as follows: first take the oval tool of sheet steel with rough edges, hold it in your right hand, not straight but bent to fit the curves of the outside of the bowl; with it scrape the large humps away from the sides of the bowl, making quick, light and short strokes in every direction--up, down, across and diagonally. when the largest humps have been removed, go over the bowl in the same way with the smooth-edged oval tool. then take a damp sponge, one from which the water has all been squeezed, and pass it lightly over the bowl, smoothing it with the fingers. make it as even and perfect as you can. next the bottom is to be finished. draw with a pencil a circle on the bottom of the bowl, about an inch in from the edge all around, and scrape, with the sharpest wooden tool, a layer of clay out of the bottom within the circle, so that the outside ring shall form a ridge about one-sixteenth of an inch above it. now cut the top edge of the bowl as even as you can by eye, using a knife. then make it perfectly even in this way: pour a little water on the ground-glass slab, hold the bowl bottom up and move it firmly yet quickly round and round on the wet surface and then quickly slide it off at the edge of the slab, before it has a chance to cling to the glass. if the bowl seems too heavy for you to hold securely in moving it about so quickly, it will be wise to let an older person do this for you. then there will be nothing more to do but let it dry for a few days and send it to the pottery to be fired. indoor gardening chapter vii indoor gardening _a rainy day in october_ all summer long the out-of-door gardens kept us busy, planting, weeding and watering. when we had had a week or two of sunshiny weather we began to wish a cloud would sail over the blue sky and bring the rain our thirsty flowers needed. we could see the reason for rainy days in summer-time. now, however, it is different; a rainy day in autumn is so cold and disagreeable. it settles down to work in a business-like way--not like a summer shower, which has, all through, a hint of the sun behind the clouds. no, an autumn rain is chilly and gray and lasting, and the best way to forget it is to find something interesting to do indoors. suppose we plan an indoor garden. there are the plants that were brought in from the garden the other day--geraniums, heliotropes, lobelias and begonias--all need our care and attention. a boy with a taste for woodworking can make a shelf and put up brackets in a window where the sun will reach them. even a plant table may not prove too difficult for him. there is one particularly interesting thing that both boys and girls can do, and that is to plan christmas gifts of budded or blossoming plants for their family and friends. how is it to be done? why, by planting bulbs in october. you have seen bulbs, of course, at the florists; they are mostly dingy brown or yellow and look like onions. if anyone in the family had a garden last summer there will be sure to be catalogues of seeds and bulbs in the house, and you can begin by making a list of the bulbs you wish to send for. such a number as you have to choose from--tulips, crocuses, lilies, hyacinths, narcissus, daffodils, and plenty more. they are not costly either. hyacinths can be bought for from six to fifteen cents each; these are the ordinary ones. roman hyacinths, which have beautiful white flowers, cost only four or five cents. chinese lily bulbs are more expensive; one can be bought for ten cents or three for twenty-five cents, but they are large and the blossoms are so fragrant and beautiful that they are well worth it. these are grown among pebbles in a dish of water. they will look well in a glass dish or in a shallow pottery bowl--such as you can buy for ten or fifteen cents at a japanese store. for hyacinths, tall, slender glasses are to be had at the florist's for fifteen cents. they come in several colours, but the dark green is best--and that reminds me that there is a case you can make of rattan and raffia around one of these glasses to enable you to hang it beside a window. this you can do some other rainy day. the chinese lily bulbs are put into a dishful of tepid water which has a few small pieces of charcoal in it. a number of small stones are fitted around the bulbs to keep them upright and steady, and then they are put near a window where the sun comes. hyacinths may be grown in the glasses or in flower pots, just as one chooses. a mixture of good soil from the garden and sand is best if they are to be grown in pots. be careful in taking the garden soil to sift it through your fingers, making sure that no worms are lurking in it, to trouble the bulbs later on. put stones for drainage and some pieces of charcoal at the bottom of each pot. the bulb is planted so that about one-third of it is left above the earth. if it is to be grown in water, use rain water and fill the glass so that the base of the bulb will just touch it. however they are planted, in pots or in glasses, they should be left in a dark, cool place like an airy cellar, until they are rooted. this will take about two weeks for those in glasses and six for the potted hyacinths. if it is possible, bury the pots in the open ground about six inches deep, or cover them with soil, for about five weeks. they can then be put into the window garden. consult the bulb catalogues for suggestions as to the care of your plants. _basket case for a hyacinth glass_ =materials required:= a dark green hyacinth glass, weavers of no. rattan, weavers of no. black rattan, a bunch of copper red raffia, a tapestry needle, no. . after you have bought your hyacinth glasses, and before the bulbs are put into them, you may like to make for each a simple case of basket work by which it can be hung against the window frame. it is made of rattan rings bound together with raffia of some colour that will look well with the hyacinth blossoms. a dark green glass with a covering of black and the natural-coloured rattan bound with copper-coloured raffia is a good combination, if the hyacinth is to be white. make two rings of black rattan like those described in the directions for making a sponge bag (see chapter iv). one should be large enough to slip over the glass, down to about half an inch from the bottom of it, the other to three inches from the bottom. this second ring must be made on the glass, as the flaring top will not allow so small a ring to slip over it. this will not be difficult to do. tie the rattan around the glass just below where you wish it to be placed (about two and three-quarters inches from the bottom), then slip it up where the glass is narrower and twist the ends around this foundation ring twice, as shown in fig. . this makes a ring of three circuits, the foundation ring counting as one. make four rings of the natural-coloured rattan, each measuring two inches and a quarter in diameter on the inside. these are made with two circuits; that is, after tying the foundation ring the ends are twisted all the way around it once, instead of twice as the black ones were, and are cut just so that they will lap. bind these four rings together in a hollow square with bindings five-eighths of an inch long of raffia in buttonhole stitch (see fig. ). fasten the ends of the rings by making the binding come over them. slip this square over the top of the glass and down between the two black rattan rings. here each of the four light rings is bound with raffia in buttonhole stitch to the black ring above it, as well as to the one below. to make a loop to hang it by, tie a ring of black rattan around the neck of the glass, twist its ends twice around it, and then without cutting the ends tie them into another ring an inch and a quarter in diameter, inside measurement, which stands out from the glass and forms a loop. this ring is made with two circuits. [illustration: fig. ] _growing plants in fibre_ later on, in november and december, there may come days when you are kept indoors, and then perhaps you will like to do some more gardening with bulbs. shall we begin with the spring bulbs--tulips, crocuses and daffodils? it is wonderful, isn't it, to think of being able to plant them when out of doors the earth is covered thick with snow? this is how it is done: buy from a florist or seedsman a fibre mixture which they sell for this purpose. take a large tub or pail and put some fibre into it, add plenty of water and stir the fibre thoroughly with a stick. let it remain in the water for two days, stirring it from time to time so that it shall get water soaked. it will then be ready for use. if you plan to give the plants away when they are in bud they should be started in jars or bowls that can be included in the gift. japanese or spanish pottery bowls can be bought for from ten to twenty-five cents each, and one of these with a daffodil or narcissus growing in it will make a delightful birthday gift for someone you love. if you are not planning to give them away, of course you will be able to collect about the house enough bowls and jars of china and pottery to hold them. put a few pieces of charcoal at the bottom of each dish--these are to keep the water pure and the fibre wet. put into each bowl some of the wetted fibre until it is about two or three inches deep, depending on the depth of the bowl. place the bulbs on the fibre so that they just touch and fill all in with the wet fibre. put more fibre over them and press it gently down and around them--not too hard. fill the dish in until it is nearly solid. now put the bowls away in a cellar or any dark but airy room where they will not get frostbitten and watch them day by day to see that the fibre does not get dry; it must be kept moist but not soaking wet. be especially careful that the bulbs do not get dry. when they are all rooted and have grown perhaps an inch, bring the bulbs into a lighter room and let them have plenty of air. put them on the window sill or even in the garden in the middle of the day, if it is not too cold, and as they begin to show some buds water regularly and often. _planting indoors in february_ as early as february you can begin to plan your out-of-door flower garden and start some seeds indoors. tuberous begonias, canterbury bells, verbenas, single dahlias, scarlet sage or salvia, tufted pansies and cosmos can all be started now. first of all you will need some flats or low wooden boxes--they should be about three inches deep and not too large to handle. if it is possible to get such shallow boxes at your grocer's so much the better, otherwise you can have a soap box or two sawed down to the required height. if they have no cracks or holes for drainage, bore some and partly cover them with pieces of an old flower pot, rounded side up. put pebbles or other rough material in the bottom of the box. now you are ready for the soil. get good, rich loam from the garden and sift it into the boxes. you can then begin planting. the large seeds should be planted about half an inch deep, medium sized ones as deep as four times their own width; the very small ones are just pressed into the earth, and the smallest should have a piece of glass placed over the box so that they will not dry out entirely. wet the soil until it is quite moist and press it with a level board after planting. set the boxes in a sunny window, one that faces south or southeast, and keep them moist, but not wet, with a bulb sprinkler (see fig. ). [illustration: fig. ] _march planting_ this blustery month of bad weather out of doors you can have a delightful time with your indoor garden. the bulbs you started in fibre should be in bloom by this time, and while you are enjoying them you can start some flower seeds for your out-of-door garden. this is the time to plant what are called annuals--that is, plants that live just a year--like batchelor's-buttons, sweet peas, nasturtiums, four-o'clocks, marigolds and zinnias. use flats or shallow wooden boxes, like those already described, to plant in. choose good garden soil and, before filling the boxes, heat it in the oven, very hot--this will kill the weed seeds. sow the seeds in rows an inch and a half apart and three-quarters of an inch apart in the row. when all the seeds are up, thin the little plants out so that they will be an inch and a half apart in the row. put them in a sunny window as close to the glass as possible and keep the shades rolled high. if you do not give them enough sun they will become thin and spindly--like children who never go out. turn the boxes now and then so that all sides will get the sunlight. you will need to put some labels into each box, bearing the names of the seeds that are planted there. the best ones are made from the covers of old grape baskets. cut them into strips, write on each the name of the seed and the date, and stick it into the earth. [illustration: a little garden for a little girl] gradually as the weather gets warmer you can give the little plants more air by opening the windows, and later by putting them out of doors in some sheltered but sunny spot. when there is no longer any danger from frost, the boxes can be set out of doors day and night, only taking them in in case of a severe storm. the seedlings may need to be separated and transplanted indoors before it is warm enough to set them in the out-of-door garden. common grape baskets do very well for this purpose and hold about a dozen little plants--flats may also be used. allow as much space between the seedlings as possible, for if they are too close the roots will twine about each other and make it very hard to transplant them later on. when they are large enough to be transplanted put them into a basin of lukewarm water and plant them in their new box one at a time. do not put them in the sun for a few days, but keep them shaded until they have taken root. _starting gourd vines in the indoor garden_ of course you have seen gourds, perhaps not growing, but surely you know how they look when dried. hard, smooth-shelled things of a beautiful golden brown colour, they grow in the strangest shapes. some are round or oval with a queer twisted stem (see fig. ). they have many uses--to hold the stockings open and smooth (so that grandma can darn them easily), as bird houses, match holders, and even for drinking cups. [illustration: fig. ] they are the fruit of a vine which would be charming to train on a trellis or arbour in your out-of-door garden, and then when harvest time came you would have the interesting gourds to dry and use as you chose. if you would like to raise them, sow the seeds in shallow wooden boxes indoors in march. plant them a quarter of an inch deep, and when the little plants crowd one another and are strong enough to transplant remove them to larger boxes and plant them six inches apart. when planting the vines out of doors in may or june put plenty of manure about them and give them ample space. if the vines bear many gourds, and all small ones, pinch off some and the others will develop better. do not pick the gourds until they are quite ripe; that is, when they begin to look slightly yellow. they need plenty of hot sun in order to come to perfection. leave them as long as possible on the vines, only being careful that they are not touched with frost. in the south they are sometimes left on the vines all winter. after picking them, hang them in an airy place in the house or out of doors. leave a little of the vine on each one and they can then be hung by strings tied to these handles. if you follow these few rules your gourds should dry smooth and hard. _how to start lavender indoors_ do you know the smell of lavender--that sweet, refreshing perfume that clings to some of grandmother's treasures of linen and embroidery? one catches a whiff of it in old gardens sometimes, and it is always welcome. you can buy the seed from a florist or seedsman--_lavandula vera_ is what the true english lavender is called, and that is best. if it cannot be had, _lavandula spica_ is next best. it takes time to raise either, but it will be such an addition to your out-of-door garden that you will not regret the time spent. about the first of march the lavender seed should be sown, in window boxes or flats. make shallow drills with your finger, drop the seed in and cover lightly. sprinkle them every day with your bulb sprinkler until they come up. when the little plants each have four leaves they may be transplanted. before starting to transplant them they should be thoroughly wet. set them five inches apart. in the winter protect the plants with litter--leaves, straw, etc.--six inches deep. the next year, in march, they should be set in rows three feet apart. when the plants are in full bloom the sprigs are cut, and then dried in a cool, darkened room or closet. lay them on paper so as to save all the blossoms. the lavender flowers may be made into the daintiest of sachets by filling with them sheer linen bags or pale lavender silk ones. the sprigs that are left after the blossoms have fallen may be used like chinese incense to sweeten a room, by lighting the blossom end of a single piece and letting it burn in a vase or incense holder. gifts and how to make them chapter viii gifts and how to make them it is wonderful what your head and hands can do when you begin to plan gifts for family and friends at christmas, birthdays and the in-between times when "un-birthday presents"--as "alice in wonderland" called them--are so welcome. but i am sure you know the breathless feeling of having to make or buy a long list of christmas presents with only two weeks or so in which to accomplish it. why not keep a gift box or drawer, where you can pack away the pretty things you take such pleasure in making on dull days all the year round? there are ever so many things--games, toys, baskets and beadwork--which you will find in other chapters--that will help to fill this gift box, and i am going to tell you about some others. there are several things to think of in planning a gift. it should be something that will be within your means, something that is worth giving, however small--not "trash"; but what is most important of all is that it shall really please the one who receives it. if it can be a lasting pleasure so much the better. suppose you try keeping a notebook; begin it now, and write down the little things that you hear the family wish for during the year--tiny things, maybe, but just what they want. for instance, aunt helen, who writes, never has enough pencils--her nieces and nephews know why. father is unable to find an express tag when he wants one, because he has no case to hang close beside his desk. joe says he wishes someone would make him a chamois cover for his new knife--it is getting scratched already; and mamma cannot find that recipe for potted pigeons that she cut from the paper saturday evening. what a number of entries you will be able to make in your gift book! see how it reads: aunt helen: one dozen pencils. father: leather tag case and tags. mother: a blank book with her newspaper recipes pasted in. joe: a chamois knife case. and this is just a beginning. when you visit your friends you will soon see or hear what little things will please them. then you can begin collecting the materials for your gift box, and when a rainy day comes what pleasant hours you will spend. let us begin with the _beaded knife case_ =materials required:= some scraps of chamois skin in the natural or another colour, skein no. - beads in a colour that will harmonise with the leather, e bead of the same colour, a spool of letter a sewing silk the colour of the leather, a no. needle. one of the simplest and prettiest gifts you can make is this beaded knife case. if you have made the indian costume described in chapter v. you will have plenty of scraps of chamois left. otherwise you can buy a small chamois skin in the natural colour, or, if you prefer another colour, skins of beautiful tints may be bought. red is very effective and not as costly as some others. in buying a skin, choose a colour that you will not tire of, for you will be able to make so many small things of it that it will be well to have a colour you will always like; either red or green or a soft brown that is not too light will be a good choice. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] from a piece of cardboard cut the patterns shown in figs. and . if the case is for a penknife, the larger one (fig. ) should measure one inch wide by four and one-eighth inches long, and the other should be the same width but two and three-quarters inches long. cut two pieces of chamois from these patterns, lay the smaller one against the larger, with the rounded ends of both together and the edges of the sides fitted evenly, and baste them so. now start at the top left-hand edge of the smaller piece, where it comes against the edge of the larger one, and sew the edges together with the stitch shown in fig. . this is how it is done: thread a no. needle with sewing silk the colour of the chamois. fasten the end by sewing through and through the edges of the case. string three beads and make one over-and-over stitch through both edges of the case, bringing the needle out at about one-eighth of an inch from where it started. run the needle up through the third bead, string two more, make another stitch, run the needle up through the last bead strung, and so on. when you have gone all the way around the double edge, continue the stitch across the top of the smaller piece and around the rounded top of the larger. next a loop must be made to fasten the case. hold a small pencil at the top of the larger piece of chamois close to the rounded edge, and, starting about an eighth of an inch from the centre of this end, fasten an end of a needleful of sewing silk; take a stitch around the pencil and in at one-eighth of an inch the other side of the centre. take six or eight stitches back and forth in this way. this will make a loop, which should be covered with buttonhole stitches. now slip the knife into the case, turn the flap (the rounded edge of the larger piece) down and mark the place to sew the large bead over which the loop is to fit, in order to fasten it. sew an e bead the colour of the smaller beads at this place, bring the loop over it, and the case is complete. [illustration: fig. ] _needle book of flowered silk_ =materials required:= a piece of flowered silk or ribbon inches long by / inches wide, a piece of plain-coloured ribbon the same size, a piece of white flannel inches long by inches wide, / yard of narrow ribbon the colour of the silk, a spool of sewing silk the same colour, a piece of bristol board by inches. the shakers make needle books of fine straw cloth, that are so dainty and yet simple that they are well worth copying. fig. shows the shape in which the cover of the book is cut. it may be made of two pieces of bristol board; one covered with flowered silk or ribbon, the other with plain silk that will harmonise with the flowered. the two are then basted together and sewed over and over. two pieces of flannel are cut the same shape, but about half an inch smaller all the way around. these are laid inside the cover, which is then bent exactly at its centre so that both ends will come evenly together. a hole is punched through both sides of the cover and the flannel at about half an inch in from the edge and quarter of an inch from the doubled middle of the cover. another hole is made on the other side of it and a narrow ribbon threaded in a bodkin, or ribbon needle, is brought in through one hole, across the back and out through the other. the ends are then tied in a pretty bow (see fig. ), which finishes it. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] _sweet clover bags_ =materials required:= all the white sweet clover that a little child can gather, some pretty cotton cloth, a needle and thread, scissors. did you know that the white sweet clover that grows in long spike-shaped sprays on low bushes along the wayside is even more fragrant when it is dried? gather some this summer, and spread it where it will dry in the sun, turning it often. strip the blossoms from the stems, and when a rainy day comes you can make with them some gifts that will be welcome wherever they go. keep the flowers in a covered box till you are ready to use them, then make linen, or even pretty white cotton, bags about ten inches long by six wide. fill them with the dried clover, sew up the ends securely, and they will be ready to send to grandmothers, aunts and cousins, to make their linen closets fragrant. a little pillow of white cotton filled with these flowers, with a pretty outer case of fine linen, makes a delightful gift for an invalid friend. _eyeglass cleaner_ =materials required:= several sheets of soft white tissue paper, a piece of green or brown leather inches wide by / inches long, a strip of leather inches long by / of an inch wide, skein no. - beads, large beads of the same colour, an awl or punch. one of your friends who wears eyeglasses was told by a wise person that the best thing with which to clear her glasses was--what do you think? not a handkerchief or a piece of chamois, but soft tissue paper. "that is simple enough, i'm sure," said she; but it wasn't, for whenever she wanted a piece of tissue paper it didn't happen to be near, so she used a handkerchief or chamois most of the time. she found the tissue paper was much better, however, and wondered why children who don't know what to give to friends who wear eyeglasses or spectacles, don't give them a pad of tissue paper to hang by the dressing table or some such convenient place. true, its use would have to be explained, for not many people know that tissue paper is such a good cleaner of glasses; but when they have tried it they will be really grateful for the helpful little gift. cut soft white tissue paper in sheets four inches wide by six and one-half long, and make a cover of green or brown leather the same size. punch two holes at the top of the cover, each about half an inch down from the top and one inch in from the side. lay the cover on the pile of tissue paper sheets and run an awl or punch through the holes in the cover, making holes in the same places through the tissue paper. cut a strip of leather about one-quarter of an inch wide and fifteen inches long, thread it in a bodkin, run it through the hole on the right of the cover, through the sheets of tissue paper and out of the hole on the left of the cover. here it is tied in a bow, leaving a long loop at the back to hang it by. a large bead of a colour that will look well with the leather may be strung on each end of the bow and a knot tied to keep it from falling off. if you choose, the edges of the cover may be worked with the bead stitch shown in fig. . _a german wonder ball_ =materials required:= hank of single zephyr worsted of some pretty colour, several tiny gifts. one of the most delightful of gifts can be planned by a little girl of boy for a friend who is learning to knit. this is the wonder ball. it is one of the many good ideas that come to us from germany--the land of knitting. buy a hank of worsted of some pretty colour and a number of tiny gifts--a thimble, a wee package of chocolate, the smallest of baskets and any other little things you can think of. start winding the worsted around the very choicest gift--so that it shall be at the centre--then by degrees, as you wind, lay the other gifts on the ball and cover them with the worsted. your little friend should be told to knit till all the presents are found. _pin case for travelling_ =materials required:= a piece of flowered silk or ribbon inches long by inches wide, a piece of plain-coloured silk inches long by / inches wide, a piece of cotton wadding / inches long by / inches wide, / yard of ribbon / inch wide, the colour of the silk, a spool of sewing silk the same colour. the friend who travels will be glad to have a case in which to keep her pins. it is very simple to make. cut from any pretty piece of silk or velvet a strip five inches wide by eight long, or a piece of five-inch flowered ribbon the same length will do even better. another strip of thin silk--white or some colour that will look well with the first piece--should be cut the same size, if the flowered piece is of silk; if it is of ribbon, cut the lining silk half an inch wider. a piece of the cotton wadding that comes in sheets is cut half an inch smaller in length and width than the others. half a yard of narrow ribbon to match the silk, and a spool of sewing silk will also be needed, and if you like you can give a still more festive touch to the case by filling it with fancy pins, those with pearl or gun-metal heads. [illustration: fig. ] first baste the strip of cotton wadding on the lining silk through the centre, then turn quarter of an inch of the edge of the silk up over the wadding and baste it securely around all four sides. now baste the flowered silk cover against the other side of the wadding, turning in all rough edges, and making sure that the edges of the lining and cover are quite even, one above the other. sew them together over and over, as neatly as possible, with the coloured sewing silk, and stitch the ribbon at its centre to the middle of one end of the case to form strings (see fig. ). after it is filled with the pretty pins and rolled up, bring the ribbons around it and tie them in a dainty little bow. _a case for tape_ =materials required:= a piece of flowered or figured cotton inches long by / inches wide, a piece of plain-coloured cotton the same size, / yard of / -inch ribbon the colour of the cotton, a package of india tape, a bodkin, a spool of cotton. a case that is made in very much the same way as the one for pins is used for holding pieces of tape of various widths. it is something that almost any aunt would be delighted to have for her work basket. [illustration: fig. ] packages of what is called india tape are sold at many of the dry goods shops for five or ten cents. they contain bunches of tape of different widths, a yard or two in each bunch. pieces of pretty cotton, one figured or flowered, the other plain, will do quite as well as silk to make the case. then you will need a simple metal or bone bodkin and three-quarters of a yard of narrow ribbon or silk braid. that is all except a spool of cotton, needle and scissors. cut a piece of plain-coloured cotton eight inches long by four and a half wide, and lay the bunches of tape all along it, about an inch apart. now lay a piece of half-inch wide ribbon or silk braid along above the bunches of tape and exactly at the middle of the strip of cotton, as shown in fig. . pin the ribbon to the cotton lining at each side of every piece of tape, making a loop that is large enough for each bunch to slip through without pulling the cotton lining. a little loop should also be made just large enough to hold the bodkin. now take out the bunches of tape and stitch the ribbon to the lining where it is pinned. cut a piece of flowered cotton the same size as the lining, and, turning in the edges of both pieces for a quarter of an inch all the way round, lay them together with the raw edges in and baste them evenly one above the other. next sew them together over and over all around. stitch the middle of a piece of ribbon sixteen inches long to the middle of the right end of the case, slip the bunches of tape and the bodkin through their loops, roll the case and tie the ribbon strings around it. it will then be ready to pop into your gift box. _a braided raffia lamp mat_ =materials required:= a bunch of raffia, a bunch of coloured raffia, a tapestry needle, no. . [illustration: fig. ] a lamp mat will be a welcome gift to mamma or even to your big brother for his room at college. the simplest one to make is of braided raffia. take six pieces of raffia and tie them together at one end. fasten this end to a nail or chair back, at a convenient height. if the raffia is dampened a little it will work more smoothly. now braid it into a three-stranded plait, using two pieces for each strand. when a new piece is needed lay it above the end of the old one and continue. the ends are cut close after the braid is finished. you will need a great deal of this braided raffia--about ten yards of the natural colour and two or three of the coloured--but do a little at a time and you will find it pleasant work. when you have enough prepared, thread a no. tapestry needle with a split strand of raffia and bind the end of it tightly around the end of the natural-coloured braid, taking a stitch or two through it to secure the binding. now cut off the knot (which tied all six pieces together in starting) close to the binding and coil the braid into a tiny round centre. run the needle through this centre back and forth, then start coiling the second row, bringing the long end of the braid around with its edge under the outer edge of the centre. the needle is run in slanting from right to left (see fig. ), then out from right to left, so that the stitches form a v within the coil. the whole mat is coiled and sewed in this way, except that when the last row of natural-coloured braid is stitched on, the end is bound as it was at the beginning and brought gradually in under the mat, where it is sewed securely. be sure that you have finished a row before you end it off. this you can tell by counting the rows, from the centre out, on all sides of the mat. an end of the coloured braid (which is to form the border of the mat) is also bound with a split strand of coloured raffia and sewed against the under side of the mat. it is then sewed around like the rest of the mat, except that in the first row you will have to take great care to run the stitches through the natural-coloured braid so that they will not show. be sure to finish the border at the part of the mat where it was started. _sewed raffia lamp mat_ =materials required:= or yards of cotton clothesline or window cord, a bunch of raffia, a bunch of coloured raffia, a no. tapestry needle. a soft, thick lamp mat that is beautiful to look at and very useful is quite simply made as follows: [illustration: fig. ] buy twelve or fourteen yards of cotton clothesline. it is white and smooth, and twisted like the fibre clothesline. or there is a soft cotton window cord that is even better, because it is smoother. thread a no. tapestry needle with a strand of raffia, putting the thick, or root, end through the needle. lay the other end of the raffia on the rope, with its tip turning toward the long end. starting at the very end of the rope, wind the long end of raffia around it (and its own short end) for an inch or more. then coil it into the smallest ring you possibly can, bring the long end of the raffia around, up through the centre of the ring and around again, taking in two coils--the one of which the ring was made and a second one made by bringing the long end of the rope around the ring (see fig. ). the first and second coils are covered in this way with a simple over-and-over stitch, which binds them together, passing around both and up through the centre. with the third coil the real stitch begins. it is an indian one called the figure eight stitch. the needle passes under the third coil (that is, the long end of rope which you are coiling around), around, over it, under the coil below, around, over it and up again, under and around the third coil--drawing the coils close together. the whole mat is sewed in this way. if you choose, you can work a design of coloured rings as a border or a solid border of the coloured raffia. fig. shows how the new pieces of raffia are added. cross the old and new ends on the rope, bring the needle threaded with the new strand under the lower coil, out in front, over the lower coil, under and around the upper one, and so on. [illustration: fig. ] _doll's hat of raffia_ =materials required:= a bunch of raffia, a tapestry needle, no. . how would you like to make a doll's raffia hat, as a birthday gift for one of your special friends--one that will fit her favourite doll? of course it is to be a surprise, but you will have plenty of opportunities to measure the dolly's head. the raffia comes in so many colours that you will be able to choose one to match a special gown. when you are ready to begin, make five yards or more of braided raffia as described in the directions for the braided raffia lamp mat, and start the hat in the same way as the mat was begun, except that an oval instead of a round centre is formed. when you have made a large enough top for the crown, bring the coil of braid around, with its upper edge a little above the middle of the row just finished, drawing it quite tight, and in sewing make the stitches run like the twists in the braid--so that they will show as little as possible. the next row is sewed in the same way, and the next, until the crown is the height you wish. in starting the brim flatten the braid and bring it around more loosely. be sure that each row of braid is sewed half way under the row to which you are stitching it. make the whole brim in this way, keeping the braid always flat and loose so that it shall not pucker. when it is as large as you wish, you can make the edge roll slightly by drawing the last two rows quite tight as you sew them on. fasten the end of the braid at the back of the hat by binding it with the raffia in your needle and stitching it firmly on the under side of the brim. _leather tag case_ =materials required:= a piece of heavy leather / inches wide by / inches long, a piece of leather / inches wide by / inches long, some strips of leather / inch wide, several kindergarten beads of a colour to match or harmonise with the leather, a punch to make round holes, dozen baggage tags, scissors, a bodkin. [illustration: leather tag case] one of the best presents a child can give to his father, or a man friend, is a leather case full of tags. things made of leather are so handsome and durable that you cannot do better, in buying material for your gift box, than to invest in a skin of heavy leather in the natural colour, red or green. another useful thing for your gift work will be a punch with which to make round holes in leather or cardboard. you will then only need a pair of scissors, a pencil and a few beads in order to be equipped not only to make this tag case but several other charming gifts. measure and mark with pencil on the leather two pieces, one six inches and one-quarter long by three inches and one-half wide, the other four and one-half inches long by three and one-half inches wide, and cut them out carefully. also cut a number of strips of leather a quarter of an inch wide and as long as the skin will allow. on each corner of the smaller piece of leather mark a dot three-sixteenths of an inch in from the edge. then make three more dots the same distance from the edge and about an inch apart on each side, and two near the bottom, the same distance from the edge and each other. now with your punch make holes through these dots. lay this piece of leather on the larger one, with the lower edges and sides together, and with a pencil mark through the holes on the piece below. dots are also made three-sixteenths of an inch in from the edge at each of the upper corners of the larger piece of leather, two about an inch apart at the middle of the top edge, and one more on either side, half way between the dots at the upper corners and the upper ones of those already marked from the smaller piece of leather. all these dots have holes punched through them. now lay the pieces together, the smaller one on top, with its lower edge and sides fitting exactly with the bottom and sides of the larger piece. starting at the upper right-hand corner of the smaller piece, bring a bodkin threaded with a long strip of leather up through the holes in both pieces, then up through the next hole below in both pieces, lacing them together all the way around to the other side. here the bodkin is slipped off and the end is knotted with another strip of leather. on this new strip the bodkin is threaded and brought up through each hole in succession along the left side, the top and down the right side of the large piece of leather. it stops where the lacing began, and the ends are there tied together. a large bead is slipped on each of these ends and one on each of the two ends on the opposite side, and a knot is made at the tip to keep the bead from falling off. to make a loop to hang it by, thread the bodkin with a short strip of leather, run it down through the left of the two middle holes at the top of the case and out again through the right one. cut it the length you wish the loop to be and thread a bead on each end, making a knot at the tip to keep the bead on. _beaded leather pen wiper_ =materials required:= two circular pieces of leather about / inches in diameter, circular pieces of natural-coloured chamois about inches in diameter, a strip of leather / inch wide and / yard long, skein of beads, no. - , skein of beads, no. - , of another colour. [illustration: fig. ] a pen wiper is such a usual present that you may think no one would care for it, but look around and you will surely find a big brother or sister, or perhaps a friend, who hasn't one. and this is such an interesting pen wiper to make. it is very simple, just two round pieces of leather and three of chamois. the top piece of leather has the design shown in fig. worked on it in beads of a colour that will look well with the leather you have chosen. black and crystal beads will harmonise with red leather or dark-green crystal and opaque white. if the leather is not so bright a colour, the beads may be more gay. work the design with the stitch described in the directions for making an indian beaded shirt in chapter v., bringing the strings of beads farther apart at the outer edge of the circle than on the inside. when the beadwork is done, put the pieces of leather together with the chamois ones between, mark two dots a quarter of an inch apart at the centre of the top, punch holes through the dots and then through the other pieces of chamois and leather. a bodkin threaded with a strip of leather is then run down through one hole, up through the other, and the ends are knotted together and cut quite short. _baby's worsted ball_ =materials required:= a piece of thin cardboard a foot square, odds and ends of worsted, a worsted needle, a piece of string, scissors. we have not made any plans, as yet, for a gift for the baby. suppose we make him a great, fluffy worsted ball. among your mother's odds and ends of worsted you will find plenty of gay colours that will be exactly what you want. then you will need some thin cardboard, or bristol board. on this mark two circles, five inches in diameter, and at the centre of each of these, two smaller circles an inch and a quarter in diameter. cut out the two large circles and the small holes within them. you will then have two circular pieces of cardboard with a round hole in the centre of each, making it look like a cookie. take a strong but slender piece of string about a foot long and lay it around the hole in the centre of one of the pieces of cardboard, with the ends coming together below the outer edge (see fig. ). lay the other piece of cardboard directly over the first one and hold them firmly together (see fig. ) while with a needle threaded with worsted you sew around and around the cardboard rings, bringing the needle each time through the hole in the centre and around the outer edge of both rings. when a needleful of worsted is finished leave the end hanging and start another. keep on until the hole in the middle is quite filled up and the whole thing looks like a puffy cushion. now take a sharp pair of scissors and cut the layers of worsted at the outer edge of the pasteboard rings all the way around. do this carefully but quickly, and be sure not to cut the two ends of string, for now is the time to use them. they are tied together just as tightly as possible, and as close to the centre. the cardboard rings are then slipped out, leaving a soft, fluffy ball of many colours. clip off the uneven ends of worsted here and there, and the ball will be complete. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] raffia sewed in the same way over tiny cardboard rings, then tied and cut, makes fascinating little pompons for a doll's hat. paper flowers and toys chapter ix paper flowers and toys [illustration: fig. ] it sometimes seems, on a rainy day, as if there was nothing to do because you have not the materials that are needed for certain occupations--but there is always paper. you may not, of course, have all the things that are used in making tissue-paper flowers, unless you have been so thrifty as to buy them, looking forward to just such a time as this. but if you cannot make the flowers at once, you can decide which ones you wish to do and plan a list of the materials you will need. then there are numbers of things that you can fashion from watercolour paper, or even heavy note paper and cardboard; so let us get out pencil and paper, paste and scissors, and begin. =materials required:= large sheets of linen writing paper sheet of deep-yellow tissue paper, sheet of olive-green tissue paper, a little cotton batting, a long wire stem, a tube of paste, pen and ink, scissors. [illustration: fig. ] how would you like to make a game of your very own with which you and your brothers and sisters or some of your friends can play? it is quite simple--just a great paper daisy with a slip of paper pasted on the under side of each petal. upon each slip is written a sort of conundrum, the answer to which is the name of a plant or flower. if you can get a real daisy for a model, so much the better. fold a large sheet of linen writing paper diagonally so that you will have a square eight by eight inches. bend it over again diagonally, and then again and again, so that it will have been folded four times in all. now draw the outline of a daisy petal upon the folded paper (see fig. ), and cut it out through all the thicknesses. this will give you a sixteen-petaled daisy. the centre has next to be made. cut from deep-yellow tissue paper eight circles three inches across, six circles two inches, and six an inch across. this is easily done by folding the paper into as many thicknesses as you wish circles of each size, so that you can cut through them all at once. before separating the circles cut the edges into a fine fringe about three-eighths of an inch deep. fold a piece of olive-green tissue paper in the same way as the white paper for the petals was folded, but once more, and cut it like fig. . this is for the calyx. next cut some slips of paper just large enough to be pasted on the underside of the petals and write on each a number and a conundrum from the following list: . a public building in philadelphia. . a plant that rhymes with pansy. . a foolish wild animal. . a wise man. . fit for a king. . a girl's name. . a plant for sundays. . for thirsty folk. . several droves of sheep. . part of a pet. . two girls' names. . something that we know flies, though no one has ever seen it. . a rosy athlete. . a necessary article of food and a piece of china. . a girl's name and a metal. . an animal and a covering for the hand. the following key, or answers to the conundrums, you will of course keep hidden until after the game has been played: . mint . tay . dandelion. . sage. . goldenrod. . sumach (sue mack). . jack-in-the-pulpit. . pitcher-plant. . phlox (flocks). . cattail. . rosemary. . thyme. . scarlet runner. . buttercup. . marigold. . foxglove. when the slips have each been pasted on a petal the daisy is put together in this way: take a long, stout piece of wire, such as is sold for paper-flower stems; put the yellow circles all together, the larger ones at the bottom, then the medium ones and the smallest on top. bend one end of the wire into a tiny ring and run the other end down through the centre of the yellow circles, then through the middle of the white circle with the petals on its edge, putting a touch of paste between the centre and the petals. now paste a thin layer of cotton batting to the lower side of the petal-edged piece, at the centre, and run the wire stem through the middle of the green calyx, pasting the paper lightly to the cotton. wind the stem with olive-green tissue paper cut in strips two inches wide, and cut from the same paper some leaves as much as possible like the little leaves of a daisy plant. the directions for playing this game are given in chapter x. _how to make a country girl_ =materials required:= a sheet of brown paper, a sheet of heavy watercolour paper, by inches, a pencil, a box of watercolour paints, scissors. [illustration: fig. ] little country girls are almost always useful, and though this one is only made of paper she can be useful too. she will serve as a dinner card or a penwiper, or even carry courtplaster to those who need it. if you do not care for any of these things you can play with her, for she makes a charming paper doll. fig. shows one side of the little girl, the other is just the same. she is made as follows: cut from brown paper the pattern shown in fig. , making it six and a half inches high by four and three-eighths inches broad--at the widest point. take care to mark the dotted lines exactly where they are in the picture. it will be better to draw the apron, sunbonnet and little shoes on the pattern, for then you can copy directly from it instead of from the smaller one in the book. lay the pattern on a piece of heavy watercolour paper and draw around it with a sharp-pointed pencil, marking the dotted lines exactly. next the little girl must be cut out. do this carefully with a pair of small, sharp scissors. bend the paper on the dotted lines so that it will look like fig. . on all the lines except the one down the front a (see fig. ) and the two marked b the paper is bent forward, on these two it turns back and the flaps on the bottom of the shoes are turned back. now for the finishing touches. for these you will need pen and ink and a box of watercolour paints. the dress, where it peeps out beyond the white apron, the bands on the sleeves and the dots and edge of the sunbonnet, should all be painted some pretty colour--pink, red, blue, green or yellow--whatever you choose. the shoes should be black, and the outlines of the apron and pockets, the gathers of the sleeves and sunbonnet are all drawn in black ink. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] the little girl is now complete unless you wish to have her stand by herself, in which case cut a circular piece of cardboard and glue her upon it by the flaps on her shoes. if you would like to make her useful, you can attach two or three tiny sheets of courtplaster between her skirts or several leaves of flannel, so that she can serve as a penwiper. [illustration: fig. ] _a paper santa claus_ =materials required:= the same as for the country girl. [illustration: fig. ] another delightful little paper person made on the plan of the country girl is the santa claus shown in fig. . he makes a charming christmas card to carry greetings or a gift. the pattern (see fig. ) is made five and one-eighth inches high by five and a quarter inches wide, of brown paper, in the same way as the pattern of the country girl. santa claus is also cut from watercolour paper and bent according to the dotted lines. the colouring should be red and white, of course, with a green holly wreath. it would not do to forget the saint's pack, which is cut from the pattern shown in fig. . it is painted brown, with gaily coloured toys--dolls, drums and noah's arks--peeping out at the top. paste it between the two sides of santa claus near his shoulders. _a seashore boy_ =materials required:= the same as for the country girl. [illustration: fig. ] as a companion for the country girl you can make, if you like, a seashore boy (see fig. ) in just the same way. the pattern given in fig. shows where the paper is to be folded. from all the folds the paper should bend backward except on the lines marked a, from these it bends forward. the colouring should be mostly blue and white. the great sun hat will be straw coloured, of course, with a blue band. his short socks are of white, with brown legs showing above them, and his suit should be blue, or a white one with a blue tie. the pail may be painted red. _a valentine favour_ =materials required:= a piece of watercolour paper a foot square, a box of watercolour paints, a strip of scarlet china silk inches wide by / yard long, a yard of scarlet baby ribbon, a spool of scarlet sewing silk, a bodkin, a tube of paste, scissors. a boy or girl with deft fingers can make the most attractive little valentine favour imaginable in a short time and at very slight expense. it is a double heart of watercolour paper, painted scarlet and with a silk puff of the same colour drawn up at the top, making a bag for bonbons. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] the heart is perhaps the most difficult part, but a child who has learned in kindergarten to weave with paper will be able to do it without much trouble. cut from watercolour paper two pieces in the shape shown in fig. . the paper should be doubled and the fold laid against the straight edge at the bottom of the pattern. the size does not matter very much, though if the heart is to hold anything the pieces should measure four inches and a quarter from the doubled edge to the top of the rounded end and two and five-eighths inches across. rule with pencil a light line across each piece at two and five-eighths inches from the straight end. five lines are also ruled in the other direction, the first one seven-sixteenths of an inch from one side of each piece of paper and the others the same distance apart (see fig. ). cut along these lines with sharp, strong scissors from the double straight edge to the ruled line near the top of each piece. the lower part of both pieces will thus be cut into doubled strips. now take a piece in each hand, rounded end down, and weave the lower strip of the piece in your right hand through the strips in the left-hand piece. as the strips are double, the weaving must be done rather differently than with single strips of paper. the strip with which you are weaving goes around the first strip in the left-hand piece, through the next one, around the next, and so on (see fig. ). when it comes to the end it is pushed down a little way and the next strip on the right is woven above it, only that this one passes through the strips that the first one passed around, and around those that the first one passed through. weave one after another until all six of the strips in the right-hand piece are woven in with those on the left--when it should open to form a heart-shaped bag, as shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. ] colour the heart on both sides with vermilion watercolour paint and it will then be ready for the silk top. cut from scarlet china silk a strip five inches wide by half a yard long. sew the ends together, hem the top and make a casing for the ribbon drawstring, as described in the directions for the beaded silk bag in chapter v. the lower edge is gathered to fit the inside of the top of the heart and pasted into it on a straight line, running just below the openings, around both sides of the heart. if the paste is not very sticky you may need to take a tiny stitch here and there with scarlet sewing silk, tacking the silk top more securely to the heart. it will then be ready to line with a lace paper doily or some waxed paper, and fill with bonbons. _a frog jumping jack_ =materials required:= a small sheet of -ply bristol board, a box of watercolour paints, a ball of fine white string, pen and ink, a pair of sharp scissors, a large, sharp-pointed worsted needle. there is a funny frog jumping jack that you can make if you like some cheerless, rainy day. he brings smiles wherever he goes. take a sheet of heavy four-ply bristol board and draw upon it the pieces shown in figs. , , and --the frog's head and body, legs and one arm. make them as large as you can. the head and body together should measure eight inches high by seven wide, from the right side to the end of the mandolin on the left. the legs should be about six and a half inches long and the right arm should of course be the size of the left, which is drawn on the same piece as the body. colour the body, throat and legs pale yellow with watercolour paint; the upper part of the head, the arms and the outer edges of the body and legs are first painted light green and then marked with irregular spots and dashes of medium and dark bluish green. a red ribbon with a maltese cross of the same colour is painted around his neck, and the mandolin he holds is white above and black underneath. the eyes should be dark green with very large whites, and the smiling mouth red, of course. the strings of the mandolin are drawn with pen and ink, as are the outlines of the whites of the eyes, the hands and feet. now mr. frog must be put together. tie a knot in a piece of fine white string and thread the other end through a large worsted needle. run the needle through the frog's body at the lower right side (where you see the dot on fig. ), leaving the knot in front, pass it through the right leg about half an inch from the top and fasten it with a knot at the back. the other leg is attached in the same way, and the right arm is placed in position and fastened to the body as the legs were. a knot is then made in a piece of white cord and the end is brought through the right arm (leaving the knot in front) about three-quarters of an inch below where it is fastened to the body, and near the outer edge of the arm. the end of the string is brought down at the back of the frog, quite loosely, to the upper part of the right leg, where it passes through and is tied to the part of the string that comes from the arm (see fig. ). it is then brought across to the top of the left leg, where it is tied. a separate string fifteen inches long is attached to the centre of the piece, which passes from one leg to the other (this is the one that is pulled to make him jump), and a short loop of string is fastened at the top of his head by which to hold him. when the long string is pulled mr. frog will dance and play the mandolin. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] _paper flowers_ have you ever made paper flowers? if not, you have probably seen them made by the cardboard patterns which dealers in tissue paper sell. how about making the patterns yourself--for the poppies, daisies and tulips and all the other flowers. it will be an interesting thing to do and not difficult. catch one of the poppy petals as it floats off from the flower, blown by a summer breeze. notice that there are only four petals (if it is a single poppy), the two smaller ones setting across the larger pair below. poppies are charming and much simpler than other flowers to copy in paper. you may have noticed that the petals of the real ones look almost exactly like silky, crinkled paper. draw an outline of the petal a little larger than life on heavy brown paper. fold the paper back at the base of the petal and cut it out in the two thicknesses so that it will look like fig. . the two lower petals will be cut in the same way but larger. you now have a pattern for as many poppies as you choose. they can be made in various colours--white, red, pink, pink and white and yellow. you can buy poppy centres ready to use, or if you prefer you can make them yourself in this way: for a poppy four and a half inches across, cut a circle of yellow paper an inch and a quarter in diameter. fringe the edge about half an inch. next take a wire stem, bend the end into a small circle, cover it with a tiny ball of cotton batting and over this a piece of olive-green tissue paper, forming it to look as much as possible like the real poppy centre (see fig. ). wind the edges of the paper close around the wire stem. now run the other end of the stem down through the yellow circle, brushing it with paste to attach it to the green part of the centre. slip the smaller pair of petals on the stem, then the larger pair (with a little paste between), so that the smaller pair will set directly across the larger. this completes the poppy. the stem is wound with strips of olive-green tissue paper, and the leaves are cut from the same paper by a pattern which you can easily make by laying a poppy leaf on a sheet of cardboard and drawing around it with a sharp-pointed pencil. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] _ox-eyed daisies_ =materials required:= or more sheets of deep-yellow tissue paper, a sheet of olive-green tissue paper, a ball of dark-brown worsted, several wire stems, a tube of paste, scissors. ox-eyed daisies are easily fashioned and look so like the real ones that they are as satisfactory as any paper flowers you can make. take four thicknesses of deep-yellow tissue paper. bend the corner over diagonally and cut a square four by four inches. next fold the paper in the same way as for the petals described in the daisy game in this chapter. mark on the top of the last fold a petal, as shown in fig. , and cut it out through all the thicknesses. after it is unfolded you may have to cut some of the petals up nearer to the centre. wind some brown worsted around your thumb about twenty times, take it off and run through it the end of a wire stem which has been bent into a tiny crook. tie the worsted centre just above the wire with a short piece of worsted, or bind it with fine wire, and cut the loops at the top. now run the other end of the stem down through the centre of the petals. make a green calyx like the one for the white daisy but much smaller, not over an inch across. wind the stem with strips of olive-green tissue paper, laying in every now and then a daisy leaf cut from the same dark-green paper. other single flowers can be as easily made as this, and you will find that the patterns will not be difficult to make if you take the natural flowers for your models. _a curled chrysanthemum_ =materials required:= several sheets of pink or yellow tissue paper in a light and medium shade, several sheets of olive-green tissue paper, a small piece of cardboard, some wire stems, a tube of paste, scissors. [illustration: fig. ] chrysanthemums are among the most natural of paper flowers, and fascinating to make. white ones are pretty, and those that are made of shades of pink or yellow are even more attractive. cut the pattern shown in fig. from cardboard and lay it on three thicknesses of medium yellow tissue paper, seven and a half inches square, which have been folded diagonally three times. hold the pattern firmly upon it and cut it out carefully. then in the same way cut two thicknesses of light-yellow paper into petals. a piece of olive-green tissue paper is folded into a smaller square and cut in the same way, to make a calyx. to curl the petals, put a small sofa cushion on your knee, lay a petal upon it, and, taking a common hatpin with a smooth, round head, press it upon the end of each petal up to the centre. this will curl it as if by magic. do another and another till the whole piece is finished. then curl a second piece and a third in the same way. when they are all done bend a long wire stem at one end and run the other end through the centre of the petal-edged pieces, which should be laid one above the other, the darker ones on top. put a touch of paste between them, slip on the green calyx, wind the stem with strips of green tissue paper, laying in a chrysanthemum leaf from time to time, and the flower is complete. [illustration: making a chrysanthemum] games for two or three to play chapter x games for two or three to play on stormy days the children of a family are likely to be alone--unless they are so fortunate as to have a little visitor in the house, or a friend who lives near wraps up and comes to play with them. a child who is alone can read, or find in the other chapters of this book some absorbing occupation; for a party of children there are always plenty of games, but it is sometimes difficult to think of a game that two or three will enjoy. the following are a few suggestions for such an emergency: _picture puzzles_ =materials required:= as many pieces of cardboard about by inches as there are children, as many pairs of scissors as there are children, one or more tubes of paste, several old magazines. there is such a fascination about cutting and pasting that a game like this is one of the best you can choose for a dull day. each child has an old magazine, a piece of cardboard and a pair of scissors, while tubes of paste lie conveniently near. when the children are seated around a table the game begins. it is played in this way: each player cuts from his magazine a picture (which must be smaller than his card), pastes it upon his piece of cardboard, and when it is dry and firm cuts it in pieces with six straight cuts of the scissors, so as to make a puzzle. he then mixes the pieces and passes them to his neighbour on the right. at a given signal each child tries to put the puzzle which he has received together as quickly as possible. the one who finishes first calls out that he is through, and he is of course the winner. as a sequel the children will enjoy colouring the puzzles. if they are pretty and neatly made they may be given to a child's hospital, to amuse some other little children in the long days of convalescence. _how to play the daisy game_ this is a good guessing game for two or more children to play, and if you will follow the directions given in chapter ix. you will find that it can be made quite easily. none of the players should have seen the key, or answers to the conundrum, but if you find that they have seen it, you can write on the slips of paper, instead of the conundrums, the names of flowers with the letters mixed for example, sapyn, for pansy. each child in turn pulls a petal from the daisy and tries to guess the name of the flower, which is the answer to the conundrum written on the under side of the petal. five minutes is the time allowed, and if the player has not guessed the flower in that time he must pass the petal to the child on his left, who also has five minutes in which to guess it. if he guesses correctly the petal belongs to him, and at the end of the game the player having the most petals has won. _horses in the stable_ =materials required:= a pasteboard shoe box, some marbles, pen and ink, scissors. although this game is played with marbles, girls as well as boys will enjoy it, and it is so easily prepared that it can be played at short notice. take a long pasteboard box--a shoe box is about the right size. remove the cover and turn it upside down. now, starting at the lower edge, draw five doorways, like those shown in fig. . the one in the centre should be an inch across and an inch and a half high, the two on each side of it an inch and a half wide and two inches high, and the outer ones each two inches wide and two and a half inches high. cut out these doorways with a sharp, strong pair of scissors and mark over the middle one in pen and ink the number . the two on either side of it have marked above them , and the other two each have . stand the box, or stable, thus prepared, against the wall and place a mark four feet from it. each player has three marbles, and in turn tries to roll or shoot them from the mark through the little doors into the box. if he succeeds in putting one through the smallest door he makes twenty-five; if through either of the other doors his score is increased by the number marked above it. there should be a time limit for the game--half an hour, for example. the score of each player, which is kept on a sheet of paper, is added at the end of that time and the one having the most points has won the game. [illustration: fig. ] _plants and flowers_ =materials required:= as many pencils and sheets of paper as players, a large sheet of cardboard, some seed catalogues, pen and ink, a tube of paste, scissors. although a number of children can play this game, two or three will enjoy it quite as well. any boy or girl can make it. you will need first of all a number of seed catalogues. cut from these eighteen or twenty pictures of flowers and plants, taking care not to leave the names on them. write in pencil, on the back of each, a number (any one from to ) and the name--this is for your own guidance later on. now make a list of the flowers and plants, each with its number before it. this is the key, to be put away till after the game is played. take a large sheet of cardboard, about twenty by twenty-four inches, and paste upon it the flowers and plants in the order of their numbers, marking the number of each clearly in pen and ink underneath it. if you like you can colour the pictures--this will make the game more attractive, of course, and as you can use it many times it is worth while. a loop of string, by which to hang it, should be run through the top of the card at the centre. when you are ready to play the game hang the cardboard sheet where all can see it; give each player a pencil and a piece of paper, on the left side of which numbers from to have been marked. each child tries in the time allowed--about twenty minutes--to guess the names of the flowers and plants on the sheet or cardboard, and write each opposite its number on his piece of paper. the correct names are then read from the key and the players check off their guesses. the one who has guessed the greatest number correctly is of course the winner. _a ball-and-fan race_ =materials required:= japanese paper balls, palmleaf fans. [illustration: a ball and fan race] two children will find this race an interesting one for a rainy day. the best place in which to play it is a large room with very little furniture in it--a playroom for example. each player stands at a corner of the room diagonally opposite the other, three feet out from the corner, and each has a japanese paper ball in front of him and a large fan in his hand. they must face different ways and both count together "one, two, three, and away!" as they finish counting, the children begin to fan their balls around the room, close to the wall. there will be some lively skirmishing when they meet, as they are likely to do when half way around the room. then each tries to send his opponent's ball back and his own forward. when each finally gets his ball back to the corner where he started, he must try to send it as quickly as possible to the middle of the room, where a chair is placed. the ball must be fanned through the legs of this chair and to the goal of his opponent. the player who first accomplishes this is the winner. _fun with popcorn_ =materials required:= an open fire, a corn popper, several ears of popcorn, a prize, if desired. if the open fire burns brightly in your playroom, no matter how gray and bleak the day may be outside, you and your brothers and sisters can keep warm and cheerful over this delightful game. you may provide a prize for the winner, if you like, but the only things that are absolutely necessary are the fire, some popcorn and a popper. when the players are seated in a semicircle around the fire they may all help in shelling the corn. after this is done, divide the popcorn evenly between them, so that each shall have a small quantity. the player on the left side of the fireplace now takes the corn popper and pops his corn. when it is done, the kernels that are fully popped are counted, also the unpopped ones, and a record is made of each. the next player pops his corn and counts the result, and so on until all have finished. the child having the largest number of fully popped kernels is the winner, and may receive a prize. afterward the winner and the defeated players will equally enjoy eating the fluffy popcorn, or if the cook is particularly amiable they may be allowed to flock to the kitchen and make popcorn balls. _express_ =materials required:= or articles, large and small, light and heavy. this is a lively game that needs little preparation. all you will have to provide is a number of articles, toys, pieces of china (not valuable ones), a glass of water, some very small things and one or more large ones, something heavy like a dumb-bell or flatiron and something light--a palmleaf fan, for example. when you have them all collected, on a table or stand on one side of the room where the game is to be played, place another table or stand across the room. then you must have a clock or a watch, and that is all--except the players. each child in turn takes one thing at a time, from the stand where the various articles are piled, and carries it to the table at the opposite side of the room. it is done as quickly as possible, for the object is to move everything from one place to the other in the least possible time. each player is timed and his record kept on a piece of paper. if a player drops anything he must carry it back to the starting point and make another trip with it. the next player begins at the table to which the first one took the baggage and carries it, in the same way, back to the first table. so it goes on until everyone has played expressman. the player who succeeds in transferring the baggage in the shortest time is, of course, the winner. _a hurdle race_ =materials required:= a box of tiddledywinks, a sheet of white cardboard, a box of watercolour paints, a pencil, scissors, a ball of white string, some pins. the next time you are kept indoors by the weather, you and a brother or sister may enjoy a hurdle race. it is played with tiddledywink chips and pasteboard hurdles on a large table or on the floor. you can make the hurdles yourself. they should be cut from cardboard, eight inches wide and four inches high. paint some of them with wooden bars and others green--like high hedges. in making the hurdles, cut the cardboard so that a strip two inches deep by an inch across will extend below each lower corner (see fig. ). one of these is bent sharply forward at the place marked by the dotted lines, the other is turned back, forming stands to keep the hurdles upright. the racecourse will have to be laid out on a covered table or carpeted floor, as the tiddledywinks can only be used on a soft, cushiony surface. you can make the boundaries with white string, held in place here and there with pins. an oval course, though more difficult to mark is rather more exciting than a straight one, but either will do. have the course eight inches wide and as long as you please. the hurdles may be placed where-ever you choose, but be sure to have plenty of them. [illustration: fig. ] when you are ready to begin, each player takes a large tiddledywink chip and a small one of the same colour--but different from his opponent's--and at a signal given by a third person, who acts as umpire, the race begins. snap the tiddledywink chip just as you do in playing the game, only taking great care not to send it out of the course, for if it goes outside the lines you must set it back three inches. the umpire follows the race, of course, and settles all disputed questions. _pictures from fairy tales_ =materials required:= a number of old magazines, twice as many sheets of cardboard or heavy brown paper, by inches, as there are children, as many pairs of scissors as there are children, a tube of paste for each child. two or three children who know and love the old fairy tales can spend a delightful hour playing this game. each one should have several old magazines and a sheet of cardboard, as well as scissors and a tube of paste. the leader, who may be one of the children or an older person, explains the game as follows: each child is expected to make a picture on his sheet of cardboard to illustrate some fairy tale. it is not necessary to draw it; he can cut from the magazines people and properties and scenery and paste them upon the card. he must be sure not to tell anyone the story he has chosen. at the end of half an hour the pictures should be finished. a bell is rung for everyone to stop work and the pictures are placed where all can see them. the leader now holds one up before the children and asks them what story they suppose it illustrates, and what particular part of the story. the child who answers first wins the picture. the other pictures are held up, one at a time, and the children try to see who can guess them first. if they are ready for another round of the game after this one is finished, they may find it amusing to vary it by making pictures from "mother goose." +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | transcriber's notes: | | | | p. . 'aesily' perhaps a typo for 'easily', changed. | | obvious punctuation errors repaired. | | | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ none our little cuban cousin the little cousin series by mary hazelton wade _ten volumes, illustrated_ [illustration] _previously issued_ =our little japanese cousin= =our little brown cousin= =our little indian cousin= =our little russian cousin= _now ready_ =our little cuban cousin= =our little hawaiian cousin= =our little eskimo cousin= =our little philippine cousin= =our little porto rican cousin= =our little african cousin= each volume illustrated with six full-page plates in tints, from drawings by l. j. bridgman cloth, mo, with decorative cover, per volume, cents net. (postage, cents additional) [illustration] l. c. page & company, new england building, boston [illustration: maria] our little cuban cousin by mary hazelton wade _illustrated by_ l. j. bridgman [illustration] boston l. c. page & company _mdccccii_ _copyright, _ by l. c. page & company (incorporated) _all rights reserved_ published, june, colonial press electrotyped and printed by c. h. simonds & co. boston, mass., u. s. a. preface largest of all the fair west indian islands which lie in our open doorway is cuba. the great south doorway to the united states and all north america, you know, is the gulf of mexico. but recently, as we all remember, we have had war and bloodshed at this doorway. the spanish government, in trying to subdue its rebellious province of cuba, brought great hardship and suffering upon the cuban people, our neighbours, and our government at last decided that such things must not be at our very doorway. so to-day cuba is free, and the great trouble of war is over and past for her. yet, though war no longer troubles the cuban people, they have many new hardships and difficulties to contend with, and need the friendly help of their more fortunate neighbours scarcely less than before. now, in order that we may be able to help our friends and neighbours, the cubans, we must know them better, and surely we shall all feel a stronger interest than ever before in their welfare. so we shall be glad to meet and know our little cuban neighbour, maria. we shall ask to have what maria says translated for us, for most of us do not understand the spanish language, which maria speaks. we must remember, too, to pronounce her name as if it were spelled mahreeah, for that is the way she and her family pronounce it. our cuban cousins, you know, like our cousins in porto rico, are descended from the dark-eyed, dark-haired spanish people. their forefathers came over seas from spain to cuba, as the english colonists came across the ocean to our country, which is now the united states. yet we must remember that the spanish people and the english people are near akin in the great human family. they both belong to the white race; and so we shall call our black-eyed little neighbour our near cousin. welcome, then, to our little cuban cousin! contents chapter page i. danger ii. the picnic iii. legends iv. next-door neighbours v. sugar vi. the quarters vii. home again viii. startling news ix. first years in the new world x. the merrimac xi. victory xii. havana list of illustrations page maria _frontispiece_ "'i counted three different forts of the enemy'" "they sat back in the low, broad seat" "the machines made a steady, grinding sound" "'it is like a big lizard'" "the american flag was waving and peace ruled in the land" our little cuban cousin chapter i. danger. "maria! maria! maria!" was the low call from some unknown direction. it sounded like a whisper, yet it must have travelled from a distance. low as it was, the little girl dozing in the hammock in the lemon grove was awake in an instant. she sprang out and stood with hands shading her eyes, looking for the owner of the voice. she well knew what it meant. ramon was the only one who had agreed to call in this way. it was a sign of danger! it meant, "the enemy are coming. look out and get ready." shouldn't you think our little cuban cousin would have trembled and cried, or at least run for protection to her mother? maria was only nine years old. she was a perfect fairy of a child, with tiny hands and feet and soft black eyes. but she was used to war by this time. she never knew when she went to sleep at night but that her home would be burnt down by the cruel spaniards before the end of another day. ramon got up before sunrise this morning. he had been away from home for several hours. he had gone out in the country "to look around," as he said. from his own front door the burning roofs of the houses of old friends not a mile distant could be seen the night before. the spanish troops must be near. who could say but that the boy's own home would suffer next? he was tall and active, and he longed very much to help his people. they had suffered much from their spanish rulers and now they were working hard for freedom. but ramon's father had been ill for a long time. he was growing weaker every day. the boy's mother looked very sad at times. her eyes filled with tears when she said: "my dear boy, you must not leave us now. your duty lies at home. you must be your father's right hand and protect your little sisters and myself." the diaz children lived in a cosy little home in the country. it was only a few miles from havana. their father had a small sugar plantation. he had been able to raise enough sugar to buy everything the family needed until lately. but now times were very hard. it was not easy to sell the sugar; besides this, the good man and his family were in constant danger. what had they done? you ask. nothing. they did not love their spanish rulers, to be sure, and they believed their countrymen were fighting justly to free their beautiful island home. they would help these countrymen, or insurgents, as they were called, if they had a chance. but maria's father had never, himself, fought against the spaniards. he was a quiet, kindly gentleman, and he had no love for war. what did the spaniards care for that? they might say to themselves: "this man has a pleasant home. he raises sugar. he may give food and shelter to those daring cuban soldiers. then they can keep up their strength and be able to keep up the fight against us all the longer." so far maria's home had been spared. although many other houses near her had been burned, hers stood safe and unharmed yet. but "to-morrow is another day," the child often repeated to herself, after the manner of her people. that meant, "although i am safe now, no one knows what will come next." then maria would sigh for a moment and look sad. but she was naturally merry and gay, and the next moment would be dancing about and humming a lively tune. what news was her brave brother bringing this morning? as soon as he came in sight, maria ran to meet him. the sun was very hot and the little girl's head was bare, but she did not think of these things. the spaniards! the spaniards! made the only picture she could see. as soon as she was within easy call, ramon told her that a company of the enemy was only two miles away. he had been very close to them. he had even heard them talking together while he hid in the bushes. "just think, maria," he exclaimed, "they were laughing at the easy time they would have in breaking our spirit. they said that before long they would starve us into giving up. i rather think they won't. do you know, maria, i believe god will send us help if we are only patient. the americans live so near us, i don't see how they can help taking our part, when they know the way we are treated. but come, we must hurry and tell father the news. he will know what we ought to do to get ready for a visit to-day." the children hurried to the house, and soon every one was in a state of the greatest excitement. when señor diaz was told of the approach of the spaniards, he said, in his gentle voice, "we would best have a picnic." the children looked greatly astonished at the idea of a picnic at such a time, but their father went on to explain. he had often thought of the coming of the spanish troops. he had made a plan in case he should hear of their approach. the house should be locked up; all the family should go down to the shore of a small lake a quarter of a mile back in the woods. the path that led to this lake was so hidden that a stranger would not know it was there. ramon could lead the oxen; the father thought that he was strong enough to guide the horse to the picnic-ground. if the spaniards found no one about the house, and no animals worth capturing, they might possibly pass by without doing any harm. señora diaz and old black paulina got a hasty luncheon ready. maria said she must certainly take her sewing materials, for she was going to embroider some insurgent emblems. her little sister, isabella, carried her pet kitten in her arms, and cried because the parrot must be left behind. "he'll be so lonesome," she said; "and i just know he'll call 'isabella' all day long." the dear little girl cried hard, but everybody's hands were so full that mr. poll was left in the house. a big linen cloth was stretched over the cage. if kept in the dark, he would probably be still, and not attract the attention of the soldiers, if they stopped and looked in. the black man servant, miguel, stayed behind to shut up the chickens in barrels, but would follow the rest of the party in a few moments. the path led in and out through the beautiful southern woods. there were cocoanut-palms and ebony and mahogany trees, while underneath were creeping vines and bushes, making a close thicket of underbrush. there was no talking. the family crept along as quietly as possible, lest they should be heard and followed. for by this time the enemy must be very near. chapter ii. the picnic. in a few minutes the lake was in sight. it was a very pretty sheet of water. a tiny boat rocked to and fro close to the shore, for ramon and maria often came here to row about the quiet lake. ramon soon had two hammocks swinging between the trees for his father and mother. the lunch was spread out on the ground, as it was already past the time for the noonday meal. "what did they have to eat?" you ask. there were some delicate white rolls, that paulina knew how to make so nicely. there was guava jelly to eat on the rolls; fresh lemons and newly made sugar from which to make a refreshing drink. besides these, there was plenty of cold fried chicken. could any children have a nicer picnic lunch than this, even if a long time had been spent in getting ready for it? the guava jelly looked just as clear and beautiful as that which is brought to america, and sold here at such a high price. did you ever see it in the stores of boston or new york, and think how nice it must taste? perhaps your mother has bought it for you when you were getting well after a long illness, and wished to tempt your appetite by some new dainty. maria has several guava-trees near her home. paulina makes so much jelly from the ripe fruit that perhaps the little girl does not realise how nice it is. after the lunch, señor diaz stretched himself in one of the hammocks for a quiet rest. he was very tired after his walk through the woods. he was also troubled over the sad state of things in his country, and was worried that he was not strong enough to take a more active part against the enemy. his wife lay down in the other hammock for a noonday nap, after which she promised to help maria in her sewing. paulina gathered the remains of the lunch and put things in order, while the three children rowed around the lake. "won't you hear me read out of my primer, maria?" said isabella. "ramon, dear, give your oars a rest, and float for a little while. you can listen, too, and i know you'll like my lesson to-day." the little girl was just learning to read, and she had a book printed by the insurgents. no one had to urge her to study, for even her own little primer was made up of stories about the war. she had tucked her loved book in the loose waist of her dress when she left the house. no one had noticed it before. [illustration: "'i counted three different forts of the enemy'"] "why, yes, my darling sister, certainly i will listen, and help you with the big words, too," answered maria, while ramon drew in his oars, and lay back in the boat with a pleasant smile. of course the words were all spanish, because that was the only language the children had ever learned. isabella read: "my papa is in the army of the cubans. he fights to make us free. do you hear the cannon roar? our men will bring victory. long live cuba!" when isabella came to the word "victory," maria had to help her. it was such a big word for the six-year-old child to pronounce. she looked at it again and again, repeating it slowly to herself. then she said: "i'll never fail on that word again, maria, no matter where it is. how i would like to see it in great big letters on a silk banner! i'd wave it all day long." this was a good deal for such a little girl to say, but then, you know, she was living in the midst of war. "good for you," said her brother; "we'll all live yet to see the words of your primer come true. long live free cuba! i say. but come, let's go on shore, and play war. you and maria can be the spaniards, and i'll be the insurgent army. you just see how i will make short work of taking you prisoners." the children landed under a big cotton-tree. they made a fort out of dead branches which they gathered. this fort was to belong to the spanish troops. the two girls placed themselves behind it, and stood ready to defend themselves. it was not many minutes before ramon took them by surprise, and dragged them to the boat, which stood for the cuban headquarters. "do you know," said the boy, when they stopped to rest a few minutes from their sport, "i counted three different forts of the enemy during my tramp this morning. the cowardly spaniards don't dare to march very far away from those forts. they really don't give our men a chance to have a good fair battle. they think by having plenty of forts they can keep our soldiers from getting into the cities. then they will scare the rest of us who live in the country from feeding them. in that way we will be starved into giving in. we'll see, that's all." by this time maria could see that her mother had waked up and left the hammock. "she will be ready to help me with my work now," said maria. "don't you want to come and watch me embroider, isabella?" the two girls were soon sitting beside their mother, while ramon went with miguel on a hunt for birds. the insurgent emblems which maria was so eager to make were to be given to the cuban soldiers. they were to wear beneath their coats. suppose that an insurgent should stop at any place, and ask for food and rest; how would the people know that he was true to his country, and not a friend of the spaniards? he could show his little piece of flannel with the watchword of the cubans embroidered upon it. that was the only thing needed. the people would be safe now in giving him help. maria did her work very nicely. she made a scalloped edge with red silk all around the white cloth. a crimson heart on a green cross must then be made, with underneath these words: "be of good cheer. the heart of jesus is with me." two hours went by before ramon came back. miguel and he were bringing a large net full of birds. of course, they had done no shooting. that would not have been wise when spanish soldiers might be near to hear the noise. no, they had searched through the woods till they found some sour orange trees. the fruit was ripe now and there were sure to be numbers of parrots around. they could be caught in the net that miguel had brought from the house that morning. they had to creep along very quietly so as to take the birds by surprise. they had great success, it seemed; but what would the family do with a dozen dead parrots? eat them, to be sure. paulina would make a fine stew for dinner that very night. that is, of course, if they were fortunate enough to find the house still standing when they reached home. the flesh of this bird is tough, and one wonders that ramon and maria are so fond of parrot stew. in cuba there are many nicer birds for eating. but each one has his own tastes. no two people are alike, we have found out long ago. "i discovered something in the woods that i want to show you girls," said ramon. "it's only a little ways off. won't you come, too, mamma? it's the dearest little nest i ever saw in my life. it must belong to a humming-bird." ramon's mother and the children followed him till the boy stopped in front of a low bush. hidden away under the leaves was the tiny nest. it was no bigger than a large thimble. it was made of cotton, bound together with two or three horse-hairs. "i'm sure i couldn't have sewed it as well as that," said maria. "see how the threads are woven in and out. it's wonderful what birds can do. but look at the eggs, mamma dear. see! there are two of them. they aren't any bigger than peas." just then the children heard a fluttering of tiny wings. it was mrs. humming-bird who had come home. she was troubled at the sight of the strangers. "did you ever before see such a small bird?" whispered isabella. "she looks like a butterfly, and a small one, too. aren't her colours beautiful?" "we would best let her go back to her nest, now, my dears," said señora diaz. "you can watch, ramon, and find out when the baby birds hatch. we shall all like to see them, i'm sure." they left the bush and turned back toward the lake. ramon stopped again, however, when they came to a small lace-wood tree. "you know you asked me to get you some of the wood to trim your doll's dress, isabella. here is a good chance to get it. i'll follow you in a few minutes." ramon took out his knife, and soon the young tree was cut away from the roots. it would take some time to strip off the bark. it must be done carefully and peeled off in one piece, so as to leave the pith of the tree quite smooth and whole. several strips of delicate lace could be obtained from this pith. now isabella would be able to dress her doll in great elegance. she could ruffle the lace on the waist and flounces of the doll's skirt and make it look as beautiful as though it cost a good deal of money. isabella herself has a dress trimmed with the lace, but paulina needs to be very careful when she irons it. it was growing dark when ramon arrived at the shore with his tree. "we will go back now," said señor diaz, "and see if the soldiers have left us our home." all were soon making their way back to the house, which they found unharmed. nothing had been touched by the enemy. perhaps they had not thought it worth while to stop. at any rate, there was great joy in the diaz family that evening as they sat on the balcony, sipping cups of hot sweetened water. the times were so hard they could not buy coffee, and _guaraba_, as they called it, was the next best thing. maria is very fond of it. the children were so tired from the day's excitement that by eight o'clock they were quite ready to go to dreamland. isabella started first. she went up to her father and, placing her tiny hands across her breast, looked up into his eyes with a sweet, solemn look. he knew at once what it meant. she was asking an evening blessing before leaving him for the night. every one in the room stopped talking; all bowed their heads while the kind father said: "may god bless my darling child, and all others of this household." maria and ramon followed isabella's example, and soon the children were sound asleep. isabella dreamed that she taught her loved parrot to say "liberty," and was delighted at her success. chapter iii. legends. the next morning it rained quite hard, so the children had to stay in the house. "what shall we do with ourselves?" said maria. "oh, i know. we'll ask father to tell us stories." "what shall it be to-day?" he asked. "do you want a tale of old spain, or shall it be the life of columbus; or maybe you would like a fairy story?" "a fairy story! a fairy story!" all cried together. "very well, then, this shall be a tale that our people heard in europe a thousand years ago. "it was long before columbus dreamed of his wonderful voyages across the atlantic. it was before people had even thought of the idea of the roundness of the earth. they had such queer fancies in those days. few men dared to sail far into the west. they believed that if they did so they would come into a place of perfect darkness. "still they had one legend of a land across the atlantic that was very beautiful. many of our greatest men believed in it. it was called the island of youth, and people who reached it could live for ever, and never grow old." "what made them think there was such a place?" asked maria, with wide-open eyes. "they had heard that long ago there was a very brave young man. he had a wonderful horse as white as the foam of the ocean. strange to say, this horse could carry him through the water more safely than the stoutest boat. as he was looking for adventure, he started off on the back of his fairy steed to cross the ocean. "after he had travelled for some distance, he stopped to kill a giant who had enchanted a princess. when the giant was dead, and the beautiful maiden was free once more, he travelled on till he came to a land where the trees were loaded with birds. the air was filled with their sweet music. "he stayed in this land for a hundred years. he was merry and gay all the time. he was never ill, and never tired." "but wasn't he lonesome?" asked ramon. "i should think he would wish for other company besides the birds." "oh, there were many other people there, of course, and as our traveller was fond of shooting, he had great sport hunting the deer. "but at last something happened to make him think of his old home and friends. it was a rusty spear that came floating to the shore one day. it must have travelled across the ocean. the young man grew sad with longing for the scenes of his early days. he mounted his white steed once more, plunged into the ocean, and at last reached his own home. "but think, children. it was a hundred years since he had seen it. his old friends were all dead. the people seemed like dwarfs. i suppose he must have grown in size and strength while away on the island of youth. at any rate, his own home was not what he expected to find it. he had no wish to live longer. he lay down and died. the island of youth had not been such a great blessing to him, after all. "another story used to be told in spain of the island of seven cities. it was a legend of our own cuba, for all we know. people said that a thousand years before columbus crossed the atlantic, an archbishop was driven away from spain. why was it? he was untrue to his king. he sailed far from his country with a goodly company of men and women. "after a long voyage they reached a land which they called antilla. there were people already living here. they were kind and gentle. "the archbishop divided the land into seven parts. he built churches and other fine buildings. he got the natives to help him. all lived together in peace and happiness. "but look, children, the rain has stopped falling, and the sun is shining. you can go outdoors now, and amuse yourselves. before you leave, however, let me ask you a question in geography. "cuba is shaped like what animal? think how long and narrow it is, and of the ridge of mountains running through the centre of the island. i will give you until to-morrow to guess the answer. "and, by the way, did you ever think that our home is really the top of a row of mountains reaching up from the floor of the ocean? ah, what wonders would be seen in the valleys below us, if we could journey under the water, and explore it for ourselves!" just as the good man stopped speaking, miguel knocked at the door. two ragged little girls were standing at his side. they were strangers. where had they come from during the hard rain of the morning? it seemed that miguel had been tramping through the woods after game. he did not care for the rain. he was a good-natured servant, and was always ready to make pleasant surprises for the family. when he was about four miles from home, he came upon an unexpected camp. there were about thirty people in it. there, on the mountainside, they had made rough huts to live in. there were not only men and women, but little children, also. they had been here for two or three weeks. what a sad story they had to tell! it was the old story. they wished to be peaceful; they did not join the army of the cubans. still, they might possibly help them in some little way. but they did not go to the great city. they fled to the woods on the mountainside. they kept themselves from starving by gathering berries and wild fruit. their children were sent out every morning to the country homes which were not too far off to beg for food and help. "poor little children!" exclaimed maria, when miguel had finished his story. "we will help you all we can, won't we, papa?" and the child's eyes were full of tears, as she said: "we may be homeless like them, yet." isabella ran to call her mother and ask her help. clothing was collected, and all the food the family could spare was put into baskets. it was far too large a load for the little girls to carry, so ramon and miguel went with them. "what a good servant miguel is!" said señor diaz to his wife, after they were gone. "so many of the blacks are lazy, and only think of their own comfort. but miguel is always good-natured and ready to help." chapter iv. next-door neighbours. it was a beautiful sunday morning. the birds were singing gaily outside. maria opened her eyes. perhaps she would have slept longer if she had not been wakened by a sound in the next room. it was ramon who was calling. "say, maria, what shall we do to-day while father and mother are gone to church? let's go over to the plantation. you know we've been invited ever so many times, and it is such fun watching the men at work." "all right," said maria, "but there's no hurry. we will wait till after the folks have gone before we start." just beyond the home of the diaz children was an immense sugar plantation. it covered at least a square mile of land. the rich planter who owned it employed more than a hundred black men. it was cutting season now, and the work was carried on day and night, both sundays and week-days. sunday afternoon, however, was a half-holiday, even in the busiest time, and the black people then gave themselves up to merrymaking, no matter how tired they were. [illustration: "they sat back in the low, broad seat"] by nine o'clock señor diaz and his wife had left home in the oddest-looking carriage you ever heard of. it was a _volante_. there is nothing like it anywhere else in the world. it looked somewhat like an old-fashioned chaise. it had immense wheels, and the shafts were at least sixteen feet long. we think at once, how clumsily one must move along in such a carriage. but it is not so. it is the best thing possible for travelling over the rough roads of cuba. it swings along from side to side so easily that a person is not bumped or jostled as he would be in any other kind of carriage. but one does not see many new volantes in cuba now. they are going out of fashion. señor diaz was very proud of this carriage when it was new. it was trimmed with bands of silver. it had beautiful silk cushions. even now, the good man and his wife looked quite elegant as they sat back in the low, broad seat. isabella sat between them. miguel rode on the horse's back as driver. he wore a scarlet jacket trimmed with gold braid. he had on high boots with spurs at his heels. he felt very proud. it made very little difference to him that his coat was badly torn and the braid was tarnished. these were war-times and one could not expect new clothes. "if the people at the great house invite you to stay till evening, you may do so," said señor diaz to his two older children just as he was driving away. "i know you will be gentlemanly, ramon; and maria dear, my little daughter will certainly be quiet and ladylike." away swung the volante down the road, while ramon and maria put on their wide straw hats and started across the fields for the rich sugar planter's home. they looked very pretty as they moved along under the shade-trees. both were barefooted; maria wore a simple white dress, and ramon a linen shirt and trousers. they reached their neighbour's grounds in a few minutes. they soon found themselves in front of a large, low house with beautiful gardens and shade-trees around it. but of what was the house made? it was of the same material as maria's home, yet we see nothing like it in our own country. it was neither brick, nor wood, nor stone. maria would say to us: "why, this is 'adobe,' and it keeps out the sun's hot rays nicely. don't you know what adobe is? it is a mixture of clay and sand dried by the sun. some people call it unburnt brick. it was nearly white when the house was new, but now you see it is quite yellow." there was no glass in the window-cases. in such a warm land as cuba glass would keep out the air too much, and the people inside would suffer from the heat. but there were iron bars across the casements; there were also shutters to protect the house from the sun and rain. the children went in at the door, opened by a black servant. she looked kind and pleasant, and showed two rows of white teeth as she smiled at the young visitors. a gorgeous yellow bandanna was wound around her head. "come right in, little dears. massa and missus will be glad to see you; little miss lucia has been wishing for company to-day." she led ramon and maria into a large sitting-room with two rows of rocking-chairs opposite each other. they stretched nearly from one end of the room to the other. there was scarcely any other furniture. a minute afterward, lucia opened the door. she was about maria's age and very pretty. but she was dressed like a grown-up young lady. she carried in her hand a dainty little fan, which she moved gracefully as she talked. "oh, i am so glad to see you," she cried. "but let us go out into the garden; it is much pleasanter there; don't you think so? i want to show you my sensitive plant. did you ever have one?" maria and ramon had heard their father speak of this plant, but they had never happened to see one themselves. they followed lucia out on the balcony. a morning-glory vine was trailing up the trelliswork. it was bright with its delicate blossoms, pink and blue and purple. close beside it was the sensitive plant. "it came up of itself," said lucia. "that is, you know, it was not planted by any one. you see its leaves are wide open now. it is keeping the morning-glory blossoms company. perhaps they are talking together. who knows? but when night comes it will close up in the same way as the petals of its next-door neighbour." "now, ramon, just touch the leaves gently." "why, it acts as if afraid of me, doesn't it?" said the boy. "see how it shrinks away, even before i take hold of it. i declare, it knows more than some animals." "would you like to ride around the plantation? we have three ponies; so each one of us can have one," said their little hostess. her visitors were delighted at the idea. while a servant was sent for the ponies the children sat down under a royal palm-tree. it stood at least sixty feet high. its trunk was perfectly straight. far up at the top was the wide-spreading plume of leaves. there were no branches at the sides. "i just love this tree," said lucia. "it seems so strong as well as beautiful. isn't it queer that the trunk of such a big tree should be hollow?" "i think it queerer still that the roots should be so small and fine," answered ramon. "did you ever eat what is found at the top of the royal palm? everybody says it is delicious." "yes, we had it boiled once for a dinner-party," said lucia. "it was delicious, but you know it kills the tree to take it off; so father says it is almost wicked to get it. i think he is right." chapter v. sugar. by this time the ponies had been brought up, and the young riders started off. how high the sugar-canes stood! the children could not see over the tops, even from their ponies' backs. the long, narrow leaves hung down much like our own indian corn. far up on each plant was a feathery white plume. the stalks were now a golden yellow colour. this was mother nature's sign that the cane was full of sap. at maria's home the cane had been already cut and made into sugar. but there were only two or three fields. here, on lucia's plantation, there were hundreds of acres. the men had been working for weeks already, and it was not yet half cut. "oh, look, ramon!" said maria, "see that dear little black baby asleep between the canes. she can't be more than two years old. the other children must have gone away and forgotten her." ramon jumped down, and, picking up the little tot, lifted her up in front of him on the pony's back. she had been waked up so suddenly that she began to cry. but when the others smiled at her she rolled her big eyes around, and soon began to laugh. she was going to have a ride with white children, and that was a grand event in her life. a turn in the rough road showed an ox-cart ahead. how small the cuban oxen are! but they are such gentle, patient creatures, a child could drive them. how they pushed ahead with their heavy load! when they were young a hole had been bored through the centre of their nostrils, and an iron ring was passed through. when the oxen were harnessed a rope was fastened on each side of this ring. the black driver held the ends of the rope, and guided the oxen. he had no whip, for it was not needed. "let's follow him up to the top of the hill," said lucia. "he must carry his load to the boiler-house that way, and i do like to watch the oxen go down a steep place. there, see! the man will not even get off; he's perfectly safe." as the heavily loaded wagon passed over the brow of the hill, the oxen squatted down like dogs, and seemed to slide rather than walk, till they reached the foot. "bravo!" shouted ramon. "i'd trust such creatures anywhere. they ought to be rewarded with a good supper to-night. and now that they have reached level ground see how well they trot along. these dear little ponies cannot do much better." the children still followed the ox-cart, and soon reached the sugar-mill. immense machines were crushing the canes, and the sap was flowing into great tanks from which it was afterward taken to be boiled. "what does the molasses come from?" you may ask. all cuban children would tell you at once that it is the drippings from the newly made sugar. lucia's father does not sell his molasses, as do many other planters. he thinks it is not worth while. you cannot guess what use he makes of it. his work-people spread it on the ground to make it richer for the next year's crop. his wife does not think of having it used in cooking, either, as american women do, and so lucia has never tasted gingerbread in her life. perhaps you feel sorry for her. never mind. she enjoys sucking the juice from the fresh sugar-cane as well as the black children on her father's plantation; she has as much of this as she wishes, so she never misses the molasses cookies and cakes you like so much. "lucia, how is it your father keeps on having the cane cut?" asked ramon, as the children stood watching the sap boiling down to sugar. "you know, don't you, a new law has been passed ordering the work stopped? it is all because the spaniards are afraid that the poor insurgents will get food and help from the sugar planters." "yes, i know," answered lucia. "i heard father talking about it. he said he had paid the government a large sum of money to let him keep on. so he's all right. but perhaps i ought not to have said this, for it is his own business, and i should not repeat what i hear." the children entered the sugar-mill, and stood watching the workers. every one was so busy that no notice was taken of the young visitors. here were great troughs full of the canes which were being crushed by heavy rollers; the juice was flowing fast into the tanks below. and there were the caldrons full of the boiling syrup; by their sides stood men with long, heavy skimmers stirring the juice, and taking off the scum which rose to the surface. [illustration: "the machines made a steady, grinding sound"] there were large, shallow pans close by, where the sugar was placed to cool. the air was full of the sweet smell of the sugar; the engines were clanking noisily; the machines made a steady, grinding sound, and, above all, the cries of the negroes could be heard, as they called to each other at their work. a few minutes was long enough for the children to stay in this busy, steaming place. then they went out again into the bright, clear air. after giving the black baby into the charge of one of the negro girls who was standing near by, our little cousins mounted their ponies, and rode slowly back to the house. they passed field after field where men were cutting down the tall sugar-canes. how rapidly they moved along, leaving the ground quite clear, as they passed over it! was it such hard work? they certainly bent over very much as they lifted the heavy, clumsy tools in their hands. these tools looked somewhat like long cheese-knives, only they were much thicker and heavier. ramon would say, "why, those are machetes. i wish i could use one now in defending my country. many a brave insurgent has nothing else to fight with excepting the machete he brought from his little farm. no guns can be obtained, for the spaniards hold the cities, and will not allow any weapons to get to the cubans. but those machetes will do great good yet." as the boy watched the men working, he was thinking how differently he would like to use the machete, but he did not say anything of this kind to lucia. he was just a little afraid that her father was not as anxious for cuba to be free as he and his own parents were. when the children reached the house, lucia's parents insisted that ramon and maria should spend the day, and a delicious luncheon was now waiting for them. "this afternoon," said the planter, "you may go over to the quarters and see the fun. you know it is a half-holiday, and there will be great good times among the blacks." chapter vi. the quarters. after a little rest in the garden, the children started out once more. this time they chose to walk, taking lucia's big dog with them for company. even before they started, they could hear the sound of drums and shouting and laughter coming from the quarters. they did not have far to go before they came upon a crowd of black children. the boys were having a game of ball. it was so confused it would be hard to describe it. it certainly could not be called baseball, nor anything like it. and here were the cabins, built close together. cocoanut and mango trees shaded the little huts. near each one was a small garden where the people raised the vegetables they liked best. okra was sure to be seen here, for what old mammy could be satisfied with her sunday dinner unless she had some of this delicious plant in at least one of the dishes? here also was the chicota, much like our summer squash, and corn, on which the pigs must be fattened. as for fruits, there were custard-apple and sour-sop trees, the maumee, looking much like a melon; besides many other things which grow so easily in the warm lands. chickens were running about in every direction, while there seemed as many pens with pigs grunting inside as there were cabins. how happy the people all seemed! that is, all but a baby here and there who had been forgotten by his mother and was crying to keep himself company as he sprawled about on the ground. and how grand the women thought themselves in the bright red and yellow bandannas wound around their heads! you may be sure that all of the jewelry the people owned was worn that day. maria could not help smiling at one young girl who had immense rings in her ears, three chains of glass beads around her neck, heavy brass rings on her fingers, and broad bracelets that clinked together on her arms. she strutted around as proudly as the peacocks near by. they are handsome birds, but very vain and silly, like this poor black girl who seemed to admire herself so greatly. she tossed her head from side to side as she got ready to lead the dance. the drummer bent to his work with all his heart; one pair of dancers after another took their places, and moved in perfect time with faster and faster steps. the crowd of bystanders watched them in admiration. under the shade of a mango-tree two black children were playing a game of dominoes. "what a nice set it is," said ramon to his sister. "i am going to ask them if they bought it. it must have cost quite a big sum for them to spend." the older of the two players heard ramon's words. he looked up with a proud smile that made his mouth stretch from ear to ear as he said: "i made them all myself, little master. i got the wood from an ebony-tree." "but of what did you make the white points set into the dominoes?" asked ramon. "they look like ivory." "i cut them out of alligator's teeth, little master. now didn't i do well?" this was said with another broad grin and a big roll of his eyes that made lucia and maria laugh in spite of themselves. "well, i should say so," answered ramon. "you deserve a medal. but can you read and write? a boy as smart as you ought to go to school." "no, little master. but that doesn't trouble me any. i don't need any learning," was the answer. and no doubt the little fellow had no idea but that he was as well off as any one need be. he could play in the sunshine all day long and he had plenty of good food. wasn't his mother a fine cook, though! he was right in thinking so, too, for she could make the nicest "messes" out of the herbs and vegetables growing in the little garden behind the cabin. there were melons and plantains in abundance; salt fish or jerked beef to eat every day, and a long sleep at night on a straw bed in the cabin. oh, life was a lovely thing! and what should the little black boy know of the cruel war and the cuban children who had been driven away from their homes? to be sure, he had heard sad stories in his life, but they were about the old times when his people were brought to cuba as slaves. he had listened to his father's tales of slavery, although he himself had been free ever since he was a little child. the boy's grandfather was born far away in africa where the sun was always hot. he had lived a wild, happy life in his little village under the palm-trees by the side of a broad river. as he grew up he hunted the panther and the elephant, and made scarecrows to frighten away the monkeys from the corn-fields. he was very happy. but one day a band of white men took the village by surprise. they took many other prisoners besides himself. the poor blacks were put in chains and driven on board boats in which the white men had come to the place. down the river they sailed, never more to see their little thatched homes and have gay feasts under the palms. at last they came to the great ocean, where a large vessel was waiting for them. as they were packed away in the hold of the vessel, no notice was taken of their cries except a lash of the whip, now and then, across their bare backs. then came the long voyage, and the dreadful seasickness in the crowded hold of the vessel. many died before the shores of cuba came in sight. but when those who still lived were able once more to stand on dry land they were too weak and sick to care where they should go next. in a few days, however, they found themselves working under masters on the sugar plantations, and making new homes and friends among those who were slaves like themselves. the little domino player told manuel that his grandfather worked so faithfully that after awhile he was given a part of each day for his own use. in this way he earned money enough to buy his own freedom as well as his wife's. but he had children growing up who were still slaves. he wished them to be free also. then came an order from the spanish rulers that all the slaves should be gradually given their liberty. but this was not till many years after their black brothers in america had been set free by that great man, president lincoln. chapter vii. home again. after ramon and maria got home that night they told paulina about their visit to the quarters, and their talk with the little domino player. paulina knew him well, and said he was a very bright and good boy. "some of those little negroes are too lazy," she declared, "but pedro is always busy. i wish he could go to school, for he will make a smart man." she went on to tell more of the old days. there was one story of which she was very fond. it was of a cargo of slaves who were being brought to cuba. they outwitted their masters. this was the way they did it. after the ship had been sailing for many days, it began to leak badly. the water poured in so fast that all hands were kept busy pumping it out. it seemed, after a while, to rush in faster than the men could get it out. the ship's carpenter went around the vessel, and hunted in every part, but could not find a single leak. "it is the work of the evil one," cried the captain. the slaves wrung their hands, and wailed, while the crew worked at the pumps till they were quite worn out. when it seemed as though the ship must soon sink, an island came in sight. the spaniards quickly lowered provisions and water into the small boats, and rowed away, leaving the slaves to die, as they supposed. but they had no sooner got well out of reach than the ship began to rise out of the water. the black people could be seen dancing about on the deck in delight. the sails were set to the wind, and away sped the vessel. how was it possible? this was the whole story. the prisoners had gotten hold of some knives, with which they cut through the outer planking of the vessel. of course, it began to leak sadly. but when the carpenter searched for these leaks the slaves had cleverly filled the holes with plugs packed with oakum, and he could not find them. in this way the whole cargo of negroes succeeded in getting out of the clutches of the spaniards. old paulina chuckled as she told the story and thought of the cleverness of her people. chapter viii. startling news. it was a pleasant evening in february. the children felt gay and happy, for their father was getting so much stronger. why, this very day he had walked with them a mile in an excursion to a cave. miguel had told them such wonderful things about it, they begged their father to take them there. although they lived so near, they had never happened to visit it before. when they reached the spot, they were obliged to crouch down in order to enter the cave. the opening was merely a small hole between the rocks. but, as they crept down under the ground, the passage grew wider, and led into a large room. "do you suppose robinson crusoe's cave was anything like this?" maria asked her brother. but the answer was, "i don't think so; you know it was not beautiful. and see here, maria, look at those shining pendants hanging from the roof. they are as clear as diamonds. oh, look down beside your feet; there are more of those lovely things; they are reaching up to meet those coming from above." "what makes them, papa?" señor diaz then explained to the children that there must be a great deal of lime in the rocks overhead, and that, when the water slowly filtered through the roof of the cave, it brought with it the lime which formed in these wonderful crystals. "people pay great sums of money for precious stones," said their father, "but what could be more beautiful than these shining pyramids! the pendants hanging from the roof are called stalactites. those reaching up from the floor of the cave are stalagmites. do you suppose you can remember such hard words, my dear little isabella? but come, children, i have something else to show you here." he led the children to a little pond, in which they could dimly see, by the light of the torch, fish sporting about in the water. "those fishes are happy as can be, yet they are perfectly blind. i made some experiments years ago that led me to discover it. you see how dark it is. the creatures living here would have no use for eyesight, so they gradually became blind. we can only keep the organs of our body in good condition by using them." it was no wonder the children enjoyed the day with their father, as he always had so much of interest to tell them. this evening, as they sat on the balcony, maria was talking about the fish that lived in darkness, when ramon suddenly exclaimed: "look! look! the garden is fairly alive with lights. the cucujos are giving us a display of fireworks. let's catch them, and have some fun. except in the rainy season, it is not often that we see so many." he ran into the house for a candle, and the three children were soon chasing the cucujos along the walks. the light of the candle attracted the insects, then it was an easy matter to catch hundreds of them in a fine thread net. we should call them fireflies, but they are much larger and more brilliant than any insect we have ever seen. as they floated along above the flowers, maria said they always made her think of fairies with their torch-bearers. the light was soft and cloud-like, yet it was bright enough to show the colours of the flowers, although the night was quite dark. "why not make a belt of them for your waists, as well as necklaces and bracelets?" ramon asked his sisters. "then you can go in and show yourselves to mother. you can tell her you are all ready for a party." "all right," answered the girls. "but you must help us, ramon." how could the children do such things without hurting the beautiful little creatures, we wonder. but they knew a way, as they had done them before. each cucujo has a tiny hook near its head, which can be fastened in a person's clothing without harming it in the least. grown-up ladies in havana often adorn themselves in this way when going to a party. they look very brilliant, i assure you. it was not many minutes before maria and isabella were fairly ablaze with lights. then they danced into the house to be admired by their parents. "now let's take them off and put them in those wicker cages you made last summer, ramon," said isabella. "i'm sure the poor little things are tired of hanging from our clothes. they must wish to fly around once more. they will not mind being shut up in the cages for a day or two, if we give them plenty of sugar to eat." "all right, but i wouldn't keep them shut up long enough to make pets of them," said her brother. "i cannot help believing they would rather be free." as he said these words, there was a step on the garden walk, and a moment later a strange man stood in front of the children. "is your father at home?" he asked. "i have a message for him." ramon hurried into the house. señor diaz came out and spoke with the stranger in low tones. when he went back into the sitting-room he carried in his hand a piece of paper that looked perfectly blank. the stranger had disappeared again into the darkness. "what did the children's good father do with that paper?" you ask. he went quickly to his desk and put it under lock and key. nothing could be done with it till the morning sun should light up the eastern sky. "then what?" you curiously ask again. if we could have watched señor diaz, we should have seen him go to his desk once more, take out the precious paper, and go over it with a hair pencil dipped in a bottle of colorless liquid. after that, we should have seen maria running with the paper to the window, where the sun's rays would dry it quickly. lo and behold! writing began to appear which threw the whole family into a great state of excitement. these were the words: "the u. s. warship _maine_ has been blown up. the americans are roused. they believe without doubt that the spaniards are the doers of the terrible deed. victory shall be ours at last, for the united states will now surely take our part against spain." there was no signature to the letter. that very night maria's household were wakened by a brilliant light pouring into their windows. it came from the burning plantation where lucia had her home. when morning dawned there was no trace of a building left on the whole place. no person was injured, however, but lucia and her parents went to friends in havana. the rich planter had become a poor man in a single night. who had set the fire? it was probably the insurgents, who had discovered that the planter was a friend of the spaniards and was secretly working against the freedom of cuba. chapter ix. first years in the new world. "papa dear," said maria, one evening not long after this, "why did our people ever leave spain and come here to make a home for themselves? of course, they had heard what a beautiful island it is, but was that the only reason?" "they had indeed heard this, my child, but they also believed they could become rich by raising sugar-cane or tobacco. great fortunes were made in the old days on the plantations here. my own grandfather was a very wealthy man. "but you know the story of cuba since then. the heavy taxes and the cruel laws of spain caused my relatives, as well as thousands of other families, to lose their fortunes. we have tried to free ourselves many times but have not succeeded yet." "well, don't be sad, papa dear; the good time is coming quickly now, you know. we have not had as hard a time as the poor savages columbus found here, anyway. how i do pity them!" said maria, with her eyes full of tears. "yes, they had a sad time of it indeed," her father went on. "they thought at first the white men were angels and the boats they sailed in were beautiful birds that had brought the visitors straight from heaven. but they soon changed their minds. "columbus was greatly excited when he looked upon the plants and trees so different from any he had ever seen. he said: 'i will call this place the "pearl of the antilles,"' and so it has been called to this day. he also wrote of it, 'it is as much more grand and beautiful than any other land as the day is brighter than the night.' "i suppose you know, maria, that columbus visited cuba four times, and yet he never discovered that it was an island." "i wish you would tell me more about the savages he found here," maria said. "of course, i know there is not a trace of them left in the land. their hard work in the mines and the cruel treatment of the spaniards soon killed them off. oh, it is a wicked, wicked shame!" "their skins were bronze in colour, like the indians of north america; but they did not know where their own people came from. once they were asked this question by one of the white strangers. they only answered by pointing their hands upward. it was as much as to say, 'from heaven!' "the women had long and beautiful hair, but the men had no beards whatever. they painted their bodies with the red earth so common on the island, and adorned their heads with the feathers of brilliant birds. "they lived mostly in the open air, and slept in hammocks under the trees. they made their hammocks out of the wild cotton you have seen growing in the fields. the women spun and wove this into the only cloth they ever used. "they had no gardens. they had no need to plough and plant, for nature gave them all they needed. there were many fruits growing wild then, as now. they picked the delicious mangoes, bananas, and custard-apples which were so plentiful. they gathered the yams and maize which also grew wild all over the island. what more could they wish?" "i should think they would have liked a little meat once in awhile," said maria, who had been very much interested in everything her father said. [illustration: "'it is like a big lizard'"] "certainly," he replied, "these savages liked hunting, and often brought home game to be roasted. they were very fond of the meat of the iguana. you have often seen this reptile, maria." "oh, i know," she replied; "ramon shot one only the other day. it is like a big lizard." "yes, that is true. the indians also hunted the voiceless dog, as we sometimes call the creature even now. i hardly know why the spaniards gave it such a name. it is more like a rabbit than any other animal. there were great numbers on the island in the old times." "you said the indians slept mostly in hammocks," said maria. "didn't they have any houses?" "oh, yes, but they stayed in them very little, except during the rains. they built them of wood and palm leaves. they were clustered together in villages. sometimes there were two or three hundred houses in one settlement, while several families used one house in common." "how did they defend themselves?" maria asked, as her father stopped speaking. "they had lances pointed with sea shells, and wooden swords," he replied. "these were more for show than for use, for you know they were a sober, peaceful people. such weapons would have been of little use if they had tried to fight with the spaniards. the easiest thing would have been for them to leave the island and seek a new home. but they were not wise enough for that, although they had large canoes in which they might have travelled to some distance. they dug them out of the trunks of trees. some of them were large enough to hold fifty men. their oars were well shaped, but they used them only as paddles. they had no row-locks. "they were a happy people, although quiet and serious in most of their ways. they used to dance and sing at their merry-makings, and their music was quite sweet." "papa dear, if you are not too tired, won't you tell me again about the great spaniard who was entertained by the indians? it was before they learned to fear the white strangers, and they still believed they were friends." "let me see, little daughter. oh, yes, now i know whom you mean. i told you that story long ago. i am surprised you should remember it. "it was bartholomew columbus, who was sent to act as governor during the admiral's absence. he passed from one place to another on the island to collect tribute from the chiefs. these chiefs had already learned how eager the spaniards were for gold; so they gave it to the governor freely and cheerfully. that is, of course, those who had it. but if they could not give this they presented the white man with quantities of the wild cotton. "there was one chief who prepared a grand entertainment in honour of his visitors. a procession of women came out to meet them, each one bearing a branch of the palm-tree. this was a sign of submission. after the women, came a train of young girls with their long hair hanging over their graceful shoulders. "a great feast was spread in the chief's palace and the visitors were entertained with music and dancing. when night came, a cotton hammock was given to each to sleep in. "for four days the feasting and games and dancing were kept up. then the visitors were loaded with presents and their dark-coloured hosts kept them company for quite a distance as they journeyed onward to the next stopping-place. "could any people do more to show themselves friendly than these poor, gentle savages? ah! how sadly they were repaid for their trust in the white men! "but come, we have thought enough about the past. let us return to the present and the great things that are daily happening around us." chapter x. the merrimac. every day now was full of excitement for the diaz family. letters were often brought to the house by some secret messenger. each time they told of some new and surprising event. the insurgents were braver than ever before. they dared more because they knew of the good friends coming to help them. yes, the united states was getting troops ready to meet the spaniards on cuban soil. and our great war-ships were gathering also. they, too, were coming to help cuba. the great battle-ship _oregon_ was speeding through two oceans that she, also, might take part. the eyes of the whole world were watching her voyage, and millions of people were praying for her safety. how we love the _oregon_ to-day and the brave captain and sailors who brought her safely through her long journey! one little american boy, only nine years old, felt so sorry for the suffering children of cuba that he wrote these words: "war, war, war on spain, who blew up our beautiful, beautiful _maine_. think of the poor little cuban dears, think of their hardships, their sorrows, their tears, who die every day for the want of some food; wouldn't you be in a fighting mood? then hurrah! for the soldiers who nobly do fight in the cause of the weak and for nature's great right." this is not very good poetry, but it shows the deep feeling of our children for their little cuban cousins. maria, in her pretty little home under the palm-trees, was spared, yet, as she and we knew, there were thousands of children no older than herself who suffered and died before cuba was free. our little cousin was delighted when she knew that the american fleet was actually close to the shores of her land. but the spanish war-vessels were here too. they were lying in the harbour of santiago. it was at the other end of the island, but news passed from one to another very quickly among the insurgents. ramon drew pictures of the two fleets as he imagined they looked. he made new pictures every day. how he longed to see them with his own eyes! i really fear that he would have run away from home and joined the army at this exciting time, if he had not loved his parents so dearly. why did the spanish fleet stay in the harbour of santiago? why did they not go out and meet the american war-ships? were they afraid? it certainly seemed so. they believed they were in a very safe place. there was only a narrow entrance to the harbour. it was defended at each side of this opening, for on the left were new batteries which had lately been set up, and on the right was the grand old morro castle which had stood there for hundreds of years. in the olden times it had defended cuba against her enemies more than once. "morro" means hill, and the fortress at santiago was well named, for it is built on a rocky promontory several hundred feet high, at the junction of the open sea and the san juan river. mines were sunk in the narrow entrance to the harbour so that, if the american ships should dare to enter, they would explode these mines and be destroyed like the _maine_. it was no wonder the spanish admiral thought they were safe in staying where they were. then it happened that a young american thought of a plan by which the spaniards might be caught in a trap. his name was lieutenant hobson. it was a very daring plan, but he was a wonderfully brave man. he said to admiral sampson, who commanded the american fleet: "let me take the _merrimac_. it is a coaling vessel and very heavy. it has six hundred tons of coal on board. we can place torpedoes in different parts of the ship. a few men can help me sail her into the channel. when the narrowest part is reached we will fire off the torpedoes and escape from her before she sinks. that is, we will do so if we can. but the _merrimac_ will be across the narrow channel and the spanish ships cannot get out. our own ships will then be free to attack another part of the island. the spanish seamen will have to remain where they are till they are glad to surrender." admiral sampson had thought of many plans, but he liked this one of lieutenant hobson's best of all. but who should be chosen to go with the brave man on this dangerous errand? chosen! why, there were hundreds who asked to share his danger, and only six could go with him. you would have thought it was some great festival they longed to take part in, if you could have seen how disappointed the men were, who had begged to go and were refused. but no, it was a fight with death. to begin with, the _merrimac_ must pass the batteries and morro castle. she and those on board might easily be destroyed before she reached the place where the work was to be done. and then, when her own torpedoes should be fired off, how could hobson and his men expect to escape from the sinking ship? but they were risking their lives in the cause of those who needed their help. you and i know now that they were brought safely through all the dangers which surrounded them. the _merrimac_ passed the guns of the morro unharmed, for the spaniards were poor marksmen. she reached the narrow channel where hobson meant to do his great work. but a shot from the batteries knocked away her rudder, so they could not steer her across the narrow channel. then a great mine exploded under her and tore a big hole in her side. she began to sink. hobson and his men lay flat upon the deck. shells and bullets came whizzing about them. they dared not rise, even though the ship was breaking apart as the shells crashed through her sides. at length the _merrimac_ had sunk so low that the water was up to her deck. a raft floated close to the men. it was one they had brought with them to help in escaping. they caught hold of the edges and kept their heads above water. just then a spanish launch drew near. the men on board were about to fire when hobson cried out and asked if an officer were in the boat, as he wished to surrender. admiral cervera, the commander of the spanish fleet, had himself sent the boat. he ordered the firing to cease and accepted hobson and his men as prisoners of war. when the news of hobson's brave deed reached maria, she could think of nothing else for days afterward. she would picture him in his cell at morro castle, looking out to sea where the american fleet were still cruising. "how proud of him they must all be!" she cried to ramon. "they can't be any prouder of him than we are to have such friends as he," the boy replied. "why, he will be looked upon now as one of the greatest heroes the world ever knew. i shall always be proud of morro castle because of his having been confined there. "you know, we went all over the place when we were little, maria. i believe he is kept prisoner in that part of the castle which is built over the water cave. you know we heard that he can look far out on the sea from his windows. "think of the dungeons underneath, where people were locked up years ago. we peeked into one of them that day we visited the fortress and i remember how dark and damp they were. i do hope hobson is treated well and won't have to stay at morro very long." chapter xi. victory. it was only a few mornings after the news of hobson's brave venture. the children were out in the garden, where ramon had discovered a chameleon on a grass plot. it was a sunny day, so perhaps that was the reason the chameleon's skin was such a bright green. "you know how gray they look on dull days," said ramon. "perhaps if i should put him on the branch of that tree, now, he would change to a brownish tint, to look as much as possible like it. he's a stupid little thing, though. if he does change colour, i don't believe he knows it himself. mother nature takes care of him, you know, and makes him change as a kind of protection. he has no way of defending himself, but if he is of the same colour as the substance around him, it is hard for his enemies to find him. "oh, dear! it makes me laugh when i think of a battle i once saw between two chameleons. they stood facing each other. their small eyes glared as they slowly opened and shut their jaws like pairs of scissors. they moved about once a minute. i did not have time to see which won the battle; it took too long a time for them to do anything." as the children stood watching the lizard they heard the sound of hoofs down the road. then there was a cloud of dust as a horseman came riding rapidly along. he turned in at the driveway. "what news? what news?" cried ramon, who rushed to meet him. it was an old friend of the family who had given secret help to the cuban soldiers throughout their struggle for freedom. "of course, you knew the american troops had landed, didn't you? well, run in and ask your father to come out. i can only stop a moment and i have much to tell him." the gentleman had hardly stopped speaking before señor diaz appeared on the veranda. he was told about the position of the americans not far from santiago. they had met general garcia, the brave leader of the insurgents. the cuban and american armies were now working together. battles had already been fought with the common enemy. but that which interested the children most was the story of the rough riders and their daring charges at el caney and san juan hill. many of these rough riders were men who had led a wild life on the plains in america. some of them had no book-learning; they were not what one usually calls "gentlemen;" but they were great horsemen and brave soldiers. they feared nothing in the world. they were commanded by colonel wood, and had been recruited by lieutenant-colonel roosevelt, who had been out on the plains among them when a young man. he admired their spirit and was glad to be their commander now. he knew their ways. he led them up the san juan heights when the enemy was protected by forts and shooting right and left at the americans. but the rough riders charged onward with great courage and gained the summit. they took possession of the blockhouse at the top, and killed most of the spaniards and drove the rest away. it was a glorious fight and a glorious victory. "a few more deeds like that, and war and trouble will be ended for us," said the gentleman as he rode away to carry the good news to others. "hurrah for lawton and roosevelt!" shouted ramon as he danced about the garden. "santiago will soon be out of the hands of the spaniards, and they will be clearing out of cuba altogether. it seems as though i could not rest without shaking hands with our american friends." the dear boy did not have long to wait, for the very next day came the news that the spanish fleet had been destroyed. it had tried to escape out of the harbour, but had been discovered by the watchful yankees. in a few hours all of spain's war-ships had been sunk or driven ashore. what was now left for cuba's tyrants? the battle-ships of the great republic were ranged along her shores unharmed and strong as ever. the spanish troops were shut up in the city without hope of escape. surrender was the only thing possible to ward off great loss of life on both sides. the spanish commander made a formal surrender to general shafter, and spain's empire in the west indies came to an end almost on the very spot where it had begun four hundred years before. and now the mines were taken out of the harbour and our battle-ships could enter in safety. as our vessels glided inside one after another they made a wonderful picture. the harbour seemed alive with boats, and it looked like a floating city. still grander was the sight on land when thousands gathered around the governor's beautiful palace at havana to see the stars and stripes of america unfurled. as the flag spread its folds to the breeze, the band struck up the air we love so well. it was the "star spangled banner." boom! boom! went the cannon, and thousands of american and cuban hearts were filled with joy. "victory! victory!" shouted ramon, when the good news reached him that night. and "victory!" cried little isabella, who added with all her childish might, "long live cuba." even the parrot echoed the words of the children. he seemed to feel that something very great must have happened, for his voice was shriller than usual. in fact, the family could have no peace in the house, even if there were peace all over cuba, till master poll's cage had been covered with a thick, dark cloth, and he was made to believe that night had suddenly fallen upon his home. chapter xii. havana. "children, would you like to go to havana and visit our good friend señor alvarez for a week? he has invited us all to come and talk over the good fortune that has come to our land. you can have a good time seeing the sights." of course the children were delighted at their father's words; so it came to pass that maria found herself, a day or two afterward, in a beautiful home in the very heart of the great city. it was a grand house to her childish eyes. it was all of stone, covered with a yellowish stucco. it was at least a hundred years old, she was told. it was built around the four sides of an open square, and had no piazzas on the outside like her own home. but the court inside was very beautiful. a fountain played here all day long, and there were blossoming plants standing in pots on the marble floor. the family spent much of their time on the verandas in this court. it was far pleasanter than inside the house, where the windows were so heavily barred that they made one not used to the custom feel almost as if he were in a prison. the doors of the house were bullet-proof to make it safe against attack. there was but one entrance to the house, and that led directly into the court. here the family carriage always stood unless it was in use. the gentleman who lived here had one son, a little older than ramon. he showed the children all around the city. as they went from place to place, he told them how hard his father had worked to raise money for the cuban soldiers. his mother sold all her jewels, that she might help, too. but they had to do this secretly, of course. if the spaniards had discovered it, they might have lost their lives. this boy's name was blanco. he was a fine, manly fellow, and was looking forward now to coming to america. "i shall go to harvard college," he told maria. "i wish to be a minister, but i'm afraid if i do become one, i shall not feel like praying for the spaniards." the boy's heart was still bitter, but perhaps he will feel more kindly when he grows older. one day he took his young friends out to morro castle. havana has a hill fortress of that name, as well as santiago. although hobson and his men had never been imprisoned in this one, yet the diaz children were glad to see it. it stood on a rocky point reaching into the sea. the great guns were still pointing out between the masses of yellow stone. but they were silent. the american flag was waving and peace ruled in the land, although soldiers were on guard here and all through the city. [illustration: "the american flag was waving and peace ruled in the land"] at the far end of the fortress was a tall lighthouse. it stood like a sentinel to stand watch against possible danger. once upon a time a wall reached from the great fort in both directions around the city of havana. but now there was scarcely a trace of it left. "how narrow and dirty the streets are," said maria as they left the morro. "i must say i would rather live in the country, if i could choose for myself." "it doesn't matter so much about the width of the streets," said blanco, "or the poor sidewalks, either. because, you know, we almost always ride. the working people are the ones who walk. but i do not like the dirt. that is all the fault of the spaniards. they taxed us enough, but they kept the money for themselves. "last summer i was very sick with yellow fever. mother thought i would not get well. she said she believed we had so much of this dreadful disease because the city is allowed to be so unclean. "but look quickly at that punch and judy show! let's stop and watch it. there is a man playing the harp to make it more entertaining." the children leaned out of the carriage to see the show. isabella had never seen punch and judy before, and she was greatly delighted. in a few minutes they moved on, but soon stopped again, for here stood a man turning a hand-organ with a monkey beside him dressed in a most ridiculous little suit of clothes. the monkey was dancing to the music. suddenly he gave a spring and landed in the carriage right in maria's lap. off came the monkey's cap into his little hands, and with the most solemn look it was held up to each of the children in turn. "take that, you poor little beggar," said ramon as he put a silver coin into the cap. down jumped the monkey and off he scampered to his master. there were many odd sights for the little country cousins. among them were chinese peddlers showing the pretty ornaments which had been brought across the ocean. once the children passed a cow that was being led home after her morning's work. she had gone with her master from house to house, stopping long enough at each place for her to give as much milk as the people wished. the cow was followed by a man leading a long train of mules. they were laden with empty baskets. they, too, were going home, as they had left their loads at the markets in the city. the sun was quite hot and the party hurried home to rest during the noon hours, for, of course, every one took a nap at this time of the day. they might not all lie down; perhaps some of those who had stores in the busy part of the city would not leave their places of business; they might only lean back and doze in their chairs; but they would certainly keep quiet and close their eyes, if nothing more. it made one think of the story of the "sleeping beauty" to see havana at twelve o'clock, noon, in the summer season. as for maria, the dainty maiden quite enjoyed her rest at the great city house. she could lie very comfortably in a hammock while a little negro girl kept off the flies and mosquitoes with a big fan. she needed the nap in the city more than at home because she was awakened so early by the bells. perhaps the children enjoyed sunday more than any other day during their stay in the city, for it was then that they visited the cathedral containing the tomb of columbus. there were many churches and grand buildings in havana, but none could interest the children like this. it was not very far from the house, but they all went in the carriage, carrying with them the mats to kneel on during the service. it was a grand old stone building, overgrown with moss. there were many bells in the two high towers. they were pealing loudly as the party drove up. "just think how old it is," whispered maria to her brother as they entered the building. "blanco says that some of the bells were brought from spain more than two hundred years ago. do look at the beautiful marble pillars, isabella. isn't it a grand place?" it was not yet time for the service to begin, so blanco led the children to the tomb of columbus, where his ashes had rested for so many years. it was at the right of the high altar. all that could be seen was a marble tablet about seven feet square. above it stood a bust of the great discoverer. "they say that spain has asked the right to have the ashes, and america is going to let her take them. but we shall still have the tomb and the grand old cathedral where they have rested so long," said blanco. "now come and admire the altar." it stood on pillars of porphyry and was fairly covered with candlesticks, images, and gaudy decorations. somehow they did not go well with the simple beauty of the rest of the church. but the children admired it, for they were ready to admire everything. when the service was over, they drove out by the governor-general's palace. it was his no longer, however. the american general who had charge of the city lived here now. no doubt he enjoyed the beautiful gardens and ponds. he was very active in improving the city. yes, the work had already begun, and in a few months maria would no longer be able to complain of the dirt in havana. she could say again, but with a different thought in her busy little mind, "to-morrow is another day." yes, although it is but a short time since maria's visit to havana, even now everything is changed in the diaz family. the good father no longer worries; he is fast getting to be a strong, healthy man. he has a fine position under the new government, and maria lives in a new home just outside the city of havana. she is rapidly learning to speak english, while one of her dearest friends is a little american girl who has lately made her home in cuba. the end. the little cousin series by mary hazelton wade first series these are the most interesting and delightful accounts possible of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, and adventures. the "little japanese cousin," with her toys in her wide sleeve and her tiny bag of paper handkerchiefs; the "little brown cousin," in whose home the leaves of the breadfruit-tree serve for plates and the halves of the cocoanut shells for cups; the "little indian cousin," who lives the free life of the forest, and the "little russian cousin," who dwells by the wintry neva, are truly fascinating characters to the little cousins who will read about them. four volumes, as follows: =our little japanese cousin= =our little brown cousin= =our little indian cousin= =our little russian cousin= each vol., mo, cloth decorative, with full-page illustrations in tints, by l. j. bridgman. price, per volume $ . _net_ (postage extra) price, per set, vols., _boxed_ . _net_ (postage extra) "juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruction out of mary hazelton wade's little cousin series.... pleasing narratives give pictures of the little folk in the far-away lands in their duties and pleasures, showing their odd ways of playing, studying, their queer homes, clothes, and playthings.... the style of the stories is all that can be desired for entertainment, the author describing things in a very real and delightful fashion."--_detroit news-tribune._ the little cousin series by mary hazelton wade second series the great success and prompt appreciation which this charming little series met last season has led to its continuation this year with a new set of child characters from other lands, each as original and delightful as the little foreign cousins with whom the little cousins at home became acquainted in last season's series. six volumes, as follows: =our little cuban cousin= =our little hawaiian cousin= =our little eskimo cousin= =our little philippine cousin= =our little porto rican cousin= =our little african cousin= each vol., mo, cloth decorative, with full-page illustrations in tints by l. j. bridgman. price, per volume $ . _net_ (postage extra) price, per set, vols., boxed . _net_ (postage extra) "boys and girls, reading the tales of these little cousins in different parts of the world, will gain considerable knowledge of geography and the queer customs that are followed among strange people."--_chicago evening post._ "not only are the books interesting, but they are entertainingly instructive as well, and when entertainment can sugar-coat instruction, the book is one usually well worth placing in the hands of those to whom the knowledge will be useful."--_utica observer._ "to many youthful minds this little series of books may open up the possibilities of a foreign world to which they had been total strangers. and interest in this wider sphere, the beyond and awayness, may bear rich fruit in the future."--_n. y. commercial advertiser._ cosy corner series it is the intention of the publishers that this series shall contain only the very highest and purest literature,--stories that shall not only appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with them in their joys and sorrows,--stories that shall be most particularly adapted for reading aloud in the family circle. the numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known artists, and each volume has a separate attractive cover design. each, vol., mo, cloth $ . _by annie fellows johnston_ =the little colonel.= the scene of this story is laid in kentucky. its heroine is a small girl, who is known as the little colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school southern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous in the region. this old colonel proves to be the grandfather of the child. =the giant scissors.= this is the story of joyce and of her adventures in france,--the wonderful house with the gate of the giant scissors, jules, her little playmate, sister denisa, the cruel brossard, and her dear aunt kate. joyce is a great friend of the little colonel, and in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences of the "house party" and the "holidays." =two little knights of kentucky=, who were the little colonel's neighbors. in this volume the little colonel returns to us like an old friend, but with added grace and charm. she is not, however, the central figure of the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights," malcolm and keith, little southern aristocrats, whose chivalrous natures lead them through a series of interesting adventures. =cicely and other stories for girls.= the readers of mrs. johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young people, written in the author's sympathetic and entertaining manner. =big brother.= a story of two boys. the devotion and care of steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale, the pathos and beauty of which has appealed to so many thousands. =ole mammy's torment.= "ole mammy's torment" has been fitly called "a classic of southern life." it relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. =the story of dago.= in this story mrs. johnston relates the story of dago, a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. dago tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing. _by edith robinson_ =a little puritan's first christmas:= a story of colonial times in boston. a story of colonial times in boston, telling how christmas was invented by betty sewall, a typical child of the puritans, aided by her "unregenerate" brother, sam. =a little daughter of liberty.= the author's motive for this story is well indicated by a quotation from her introduction, as follows: "one ride is memorable in the early history of the american revolution, the well-known ride of paul revere. equally deserving of commendation is another ride,--untold in verse or story, its records preserved only in family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of anthony severn was no less historic in its action or memorable in its consequences." =a loyal little maid.= a delightful and interesting story of revolutionary days, in which the child heroine, betsey schuyler, renders important services to george washington and alexander hamilton, and in the end becomes the wife of the latter. =a little puritan rebel.= like miss robinson's successful story of "a loyal little maid," this is another historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the gallant sir harry vane was governor of massachusetts. =a little puritan pioneer.= the scene of this story is laid in the puritan settlement at charlestown. the little girl heroine adds another to the list of favorites so well known to the young people in "a little puritan rebel," etc. _by ouida (louise de la ramée)_ =a dog of flanders:= a christmas story. too well and favorably known to require description. =the nürnberg stove.= this beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price. =a provence rose.= a story perfect in sweetness and in grace. =findelkind.= a charming story about a little swiss herdsman. _by miss mulock_ =the little lame prince.= a delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother. =adventures of a brownie.= the story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him. =his little mother.= miss mulock's short stories for children are a constant source of delight to them, and "his little mother," in this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers. =little sunshine's holiday.= an attractive story of a summer outing. "little sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters for which miss mulock is so justly famous. _by juliana horatia ewing_ =jackanapes.= a new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and touching story, dear alike to young and old. =story of a short life.= this beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. it is a part of the world's literature, and will never die. =a great emergency.= how a family of children prepared for a great emergency, and how they acted when the emergency came. =the trinity flower.= in this little volume are collected three of mrs. ewing's best short stories for the young people. =madam liberality.= from her cradle up madam liberality found her chief delight in giving. _by frances margaret fox_ =the little giant's neighbors.= a charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbors were the creatures of the field and garden. =farmer brown and the birds.= a little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best friends. miss fox has an intimate knowledge of bird life and has written a little book which should take rank with "black beauty" and "beautiful joe." =betty of old mackinaw.= a charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little readers who like stories of "real people." _by will allen dromgoole_ =the farrier's dog and his fellow.= this story, written by the gifted young southern woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style. =the fortunes of the fellow.= those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "the farrier's dog and his fellow" will welcome the further account of the "adventures of baydaw and the fellow" at the home of the kindly smith among the green hills of tennessee. _by frances hodges white_ =helena's wonderworld.= a delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the mysterious regions beneath the sea. =aunt nabby's children.= this pretty little story, touched with the simple humor of country life, tells of two children, who, adopted by aunt nabby, have also won their way into the affections of the village squire. _by charles lee sleight_ =the prince of the pin elves.= a fascinating story of the underground adventures of a sturdy, reliant american boy among the elves and gnomes. =the water people.= a companion volume and in a way a sequel to "the prince of the pin elves," relating the adventures of "harry" among the "water people." while it has the same characters as the previous book, the story is complete in itself. _by other authors_ =the story of rosy dawn.= by pauline bradford mackie. the christmas of little wong jan, or "rosy dawn," a young celestial of san francisco, is the theme of this pleasant little story. =susanne.= by frances j. delano. this little story will recall in sweetness and appealing charm the work of kate douglas wiggin and laura e. richards. =millicent in dreamland.= by edna s. brainerd. the quaintness and fantastic character of millicent's adventures in dreamland have much of the fascination of "alice in wonderland," and all small readers of "alice" will enjoy making millicent's acquaintance. =jerry's adventures.= by evelyn snead barnett. this is an interesting and wholesome little story of the change that came over the thoughtless imps on jefferson square when they learned to know the stout-hearted jerry and his faithful peggy. =a bad penny.= by john t. wheelwright. no boy should omit reading this vivid story of the new england of . =gatty and i.= by frances e. crompton. the small hero and heroine of this little story are twins, "strictly brought up." it is a sweet and wholesome little story. =the fairy of the rhône.= by a. comyns carr. here is a fairy story indeed, one of old-fashioned pure delight. it is most gracefully told, and accompanied by charming illustrations. =a small small child.= by e. livingston prescott. "a small small child" is a moving little tale of sweet influence, more powerful than threats or punishments, upon a rowdy of the barracks. =peggy's trial.= by mary knight potter. peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose rebellion from a mistaken notion of loyalty, and her subsequent reconciliation to the dreaded "new mother," are most interestingly told. =for his country.= by marshall saunders, author of "beautiful joe," etc. a sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country; written with that charm which has endeared miss saunders to hosts of readers. =la belle nivernaise.= the story of an old boat and her crew. by alphonse daudet. all who have read it will be glad to welcome an old favorite, and new readers will be happy to have it brought to their friendly attention. =wee dorothy.= by laura updegraff. a story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. with a bit of sadness at the beginning, the story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether wholesome in every way. =rab and his friends.= by dr. john brown. doctor brown's little masterpiece is too well known to need description. the dog rab is loved by all. =the adventures of beatrice and jessie.= by richard mansfield. the story of two little girls who were suddenly transplanted into the "realms of unreality," where they met with many curious and amusing adventures. =a child's garden of verses.= by r. l. stevenson. mr. stevenson's little volume is too well known to need description. it will be heartily welcomed in this new and attractive edition. =little king davie.= by nellie hellis. the story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make many boys thankful they are not in the same position. davie's accident, hospital experiences, conversion, and subsequent life, are of thrilling interest. =the sleeping beauty.= a modern version. by martha b. dunn. this charming story of a little fishermaid of maine, intellectually "asleep" until she meets the "fairy prince," reminds us of "ouida" at her best. =the young archer.= by charles e. brimblecom. a strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied columbus on his voyage to the new world. his loyalty and services through vicissitudes and dangers endeared him to the great discoverer, and the account of his exploits will be interesting to all boys. =the making of zimri bunker:= a tale of nantucket. by w. j. long, ph. d. this is a charming story of nantucket folk by a young clergyman who is already well known through his contributions to the _youth's companion_, _st. nicholas_, and other well-known magazines. the story deals with a sturdy american fisher lad, during the war of . =the king of the golden river:= a legend of stiria. by john ruskin. written fifty years or more ago, and not originally intended for publication, this little fairy tale soon became known and made a place for itself. =little peterkin vandike.= by charles stuart pratt. the author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming story: "i dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and perchance instruction) of the boys who may read it, to the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as much as peterkin the plays of the poetry party, but who has now marched, as they will march one day, out of the ranks of boyhood into the ranks of young manhood." =will o' the mill.= by robert louis stevenson. an allegorical story by this inimitable and versatile writer. its rare poetic quality, its graceful and delicate fancy, its strange power and fascination, justify its separate publication. books for young people =the little colonel's house party.= by annie fellows johnston. illustrated by louis meynell. one vol., library mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . =the little colonel's holidays.= by annie fellows johnston. illustrated by l. j. bridgman. one vol., large mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . =the little colonel's hero.= by annie fellows johnston. one vol., large mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated $ . _net_ (postage extra) in these three stories mrs. johnston once more introduces us to the "little colonel," the dainty maiden who has already figured as the heroine of two previous stories, "the little colonel" and "two little knights of kentucky," and who has won her way into the hearts of old and young alike. she is more winsome and lovable than ever. since the time of "little women," no juvenile heroine has been better beloved of her child readers than mrs. johnston's "little colonel." =a puritan knight errant.= by edith robinson, author of "a little puritan pioneer," "a little puritan's first christmas," "a little puritan rebel," etc. library mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $ . _net_ (postage extra). the charm of style and historical value of miss robinson's previous stories of child life in puritan days have brought them wide popularity. her latest and most important book appeals to a large juvenile public. the "knight errant" of this story is a little don quixote, whose trials and their ultimate outcome will prove deeply interesting to their reader. =ye lyttle salem maide:= a story of witchcraft. by pauline bradford mackie. _new illustrated edition._ one volume, large mo, cloth, gilt top $ . a tale of the days of the reign of superstition in new england, and of a brave "lyttle maide," of salem town, whose faith and hope and unyielding adherence to her word of honor form the basis of a most attractive story. a very convincing picture is drawn of puritan life during the latter part of the seventeenth century. =in kings' houses:= a tale of the days of queen anne. by julia c. r. dorr, author of "a cathedral pilgrimage," etc. _new illustrated edition._ one volume, large mo, cloth, gilt top $ . the story deals with one of the most romantic episodes in english history. queen anne, the last of the reigning stuarts, is described with a strong yet sympathetic touch, and the young duke of gloster, the "little lady," and the hero of the tale, robin sandys, are delightful characterizations. =gulliver's bird book.= being the newly discovered strange adventures of lemuel gulliver, now for the first time described and illustrated. by l. j. bridgman, author of "mother goose and her wild beast show," etc. with upwards of illustrations in color, large quarto, cloth $ . this is a most amusing and original book, illustrated with startlingly odd and clever drawings. if we may accept the account given in the preface, that renowned explorer, lemuel gulliver, left behind him certain memoirs which have remained unknown to the public up to the present day. having now been brought to light and given to the world, these records establish beyond a doubt their author's claim to be regarded as the discoverer of the bouncing ballazoon and a host of other creatures unknown to darwin and huxley. ='tilda jane=. by marshall saunders, author of "beautiful joe," etc. one vol., mo, fully illustrated, cloth, decorative cover $ . "no more amusing and attractive child's story has appeared for a long time than this quaint and curious recital of the adventures of that pitiful and charming little runaway. "it is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books that win and charm the reader, and i did not put it down until i had finished it--honest! and i am sure that every one, young or old, who reads will be proud and happy to make the acquaintance of the delicious waif. "i cannot think of any better book for children than this. i commend it unreservedly."--_cyrus townsend brady._ =miss gray's girls;= or, summer days in the scottish highlands. by jeannette a. grant. with about sixty illustrations in half-tone and pen and ink sketches of scottish scenery. one vol., large mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . a delightfully told story of a summer trip through scotland, somewhat out of the beaten track. a teacher, starting at glasgow, takes a lively party of girls, her pupils, through the trossachs to oban, through the caledonian canal to inverness, and as far north as brora, missing no part of the matchless scenery and no place of historic interest. returning through perth, stirling, edinburgh, melrose, and abbotsford, the enjoyment of the party and the interest of the reader never lag. =chums.= by maria louise pool. illustrated by l. j. bridgman. one vol., large mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . "chums" is a girls' book, about girls and for girls. it relates the adventures, in school and during vacation, of two friends. it is full of mingled fun and pathos, and carries the reader along swiftly to the climax, which is reached all too soon. =little bermuda.= by maria louise pool. illustrated by louis meynell. one vol., large mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . young people will follow eagerly the adventures of "little bermuda" from her home in the tropics to a fashionable american boarding-school. the resulting conflict between the two elements in her nature, the one inherited from her new england ancestry, and the other developed by her west indian surroundings, gave miss pool unusual opportunity for creating an original and fascinating heroine. =black beauty:= the autobiography of a horse. by anna sewell. _new illustrated edition._ with twenty-five full-page drawings by winifred austin. one vol., large mo, cloth decorative, gilt top $ . there have been many editions of this classic, but we confidently offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome yet produced. the illustrations are of special value and beauty. mr. austin is a lover of horses, and has delighted in tracing with his pen the beauty and grace of the noble animal. =feats on the fiord:= a tale of norwegian life. by harriet martineau. with about sixty original illustrations and a colored frontispiece. one vol., large mo, cloth decorative $ . this admirable book deserves to be brought to the attention of parents in search of wholesome reading for their children to-day. it is something more than a juvenile book, being really one of the most instructive books about norway and norwegian life and manners ever written. =timothy dole.= by juniata salsbury. with twenty-five illustrations. one vol., large mo, cloth decorative $ . the youthful hero starts from home, loses his way, meets with startling adventures, finds friends, kind and many, grows to be a manly man, and is able to devote himself to bettering the condition of the poor in the mining region of pennsylvania. =three children of galilee:= a life of christ for the young. by john gordon. beautifully illustrated with more than one hundred illustrations. one vol., library mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . there has long been a need for a life of christ for the young, for parents have recognized that their boys and girls want something more than a bible story, a dry statement of facts, and that, in order to hold the attention of the youthful readers, a book on this subject should have life and movement as well as scrupulous accuracy and religious sentiment. =three little crackers.= from down in dixie. by will allen dromgoole, author of "the farrier's dog," etc., with fifty text and full-page illustrations, by e. b. barry. one vol., library mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . a fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of alabama children who move to florida and grow up in the south. =prince harold, a fairy story.= by l. f. brown. with full-page illustrations by vitry. one vol., large mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . a delightful fairy tale for children, dealing with the life of a young prince, who, aided by the moon spirit, discovers, after many adventures, a beautiful girl whom he makes his princess. =the fairy folk of blue hill:= a story of folk-lore. by lily f. wesselhoeft, author of "sparrow the tramp," etc., with fifty-five illustrations from original drawings by alfred c. eastman. one vol., library mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . a new volume by mrs. wesselhoeft, well known as one of our best writers for the young, and who has made a host of friends among the young people. =larry hudson's ambition.= by james otis, author of "toby tyler," etc. illustrated by eliot keen. one vol., library mo, cloth, decorative cover $ . james otis, who has delighted the juvenile public with so many popular stories, has written the story of the rise of the bootblack larry. larry is not only capable of holding his own and coming out with flying colors in the amusing adventures wherein he befriends the family of good deacon doak; he also has the signal ability to know what he wants and to understand that hard work is necessary to win. =the adventures of a boy reporter= in the philippines. by harry steele morrison, author of "a yankee boy's success." one vol., large mo, cloth, illustrated $ . a true story of the courage and enterprise of an american lad. it is filled with healthy interest, and will tend to stimulate and encourage the proper ambition of the young reader. =the young pearl divers:= a story of australian adventure by land and by sea. by lieut. h. phelps whitmarsh, author of "the mysterious voyage of the _daphne_," etc. illustrated with twelve full-page half-tones by h. burgess. one vol., large mo, cloth decorative $ . this is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes in vigorous and interesting language of scenes and adventures with which he is personally acquainted. =the voyage of the avenger:= in the days of the dashing drake. by henry st. john. with twenty-five full-page illustrations by paul hardy. one vol., tall mo, cloth decorative, gilt top $ . a book of adventure, the scene of which is laid in that stirring period of colonial extension when england's famous naval heroes encountered the ships of spain, both at home and in the west indies. transcriber's note: this book is a summary and index to a series of books that can also be found in the project gutenberg collection. details of these books can be found in the notes at the end of this volume. the library of work and play guide and index the library of work and play carpentry and woodwork by edwin w. foster electricity and its everyday uses by john f. woodhull, ph.d. gardening and farming by ellen eddy shaw home decoration by charles franklin warner, sc.d. housekeeping by elizabeth hale gilman mechanics, indoors and out by fred t. hodgson. needlecraft by effie archer archer outdoor sports, and games by claude h. miller, ph.b. outdoor work by mary rogers miller working in metals by charles conrad sleffel. [illustration: wireless station and workroom of george riches, montclair, n. j. george made most of the apparatus at home or in the school shop] _the library of work and play_ guide and index by cheshire l. boone [illustration] garden city new york doubleday, page & company all rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the scandinavian copyright, , by doubleday, page & company the country life press, garden city, n. y. contents chapter page i. significance of the crafts in the life of a people ii. the cultivation of taste and design iii. the real girl iv. that boy v. a house and lot--especially the lot vi. vacations, athletics, scouting, camping, photography index list of illustrations wireless station and workroom of george riches _frontispiece_ facing page an example of furniture such as boys like clay pots made for germination experiments the work of children between ten and eleven years of age two examples of furniture grouping for the porch or outdoors the numerous photographs suggest disorder and dust an interesting curtain which might be duplicated by any girl since flowers are so beautiful in themselves, is it not worth while to arrange them with judgment? a school garden in jordan harbour, ontario, can. domestic science class the work of girls in the public schools a children's garden gives fresh air and sunshine all children love to play at being "grown up" girls must sometime learn of the conventions and customs of domestic arrangement a boys' camp with ernest thompson seton the play idea very soon grows toward the representation of primitive though adult customs and actions a typical boy's workroom and shop the kind of shop which one may have at home the kite fever is an annual disease pump and waterwheel boat made by percy wilson and donald mather these are the forerunners of numerous other electrical constructions a real derrick in miniature waterwheels and fan a self-recording telegraph receiver wireless station and workroom of donald huxom an electrical soldering iron and glue-pot waterwheel connected with model lathe excellent examples of high school work a manual training shop the machine shop the study of aeroplane construction a successful machine finished aeroplanes the boy who does not love to camp is unique this and other illustrations of homes, show such places as people make when they care about appearance even the most beautiful house must have a background one should build a house as one builds a reputation trees, shrubbery and lawn form the frame of the picture there was a time not long since, when people built houses according to style a school garden the watchung school garden there is a fascination about raising animals whether for sale or as pets two more illustrations which will suggest plans for the future every child, and especially the boy, needs active outdoor exercise organized play (woodcraft) under ernest thompson seton more woodcraft. has the boy had a chance at this kind of experience? even the technical process of photography has been reduced to popular terms in these days photography has become so simplified that every child can use a camera to advantage the library of work and play guide and index [illustration] chapter i significance of the crafts in the life of a people there was never a time in the history of the world when each race, each nation, each community unit, each family almost, did not possess its craftsmen and artists. in every instance, these so-called gifted members were by no means the least important citizens; their names appeared again and again in the stream of tradition as wonder workers and idols of the people. this is still true in the very midst of a materialistic age, when money and mechanics work hand in hand to produce the most in the least time for economic reasons, and when the individual worships "hand-made things." they may even be poorly made or bizarre, but "handwork" satisfies the untutored. now it is quite possible for the machine to produce a bit of jewelry, textile, or woodwork--even carving--quite as pleasing as any made by hand alone, and it is being done every day. but the machine-made article must be produced in large quantities (duplicates) for profit, whereas the work of hand alone is unique. there lies the reason for reverence of "handwork." it is always individual and characteristic of the workman in style or technique and has no duplicate; it is aristocratic. among the primitives, the pot, necklace, or utensil was wrought by infinite labor, and, being valuable because unique, was embellished with all the wealth of current symbolism. it was preserved with care and became more valuable to succeeding generations as a tangible record of race culture and ideals. and so down to the present time, the handiwork of the craftsman and skilled artisan has always stood as the one imperishable record of racial development. the degree of finish, the intricacy of design and nicety of construction are evidences of skill and fine tools, well-organized processes, familiarity with material and careful apprenticeship: the pattern, color, ornament, and symbolism point to culture, learning, and standards of taste and beauty. a crude domestic economy, rude utensils, coarse, garish costume and of simple construction, are characteristic of an undeveloped social order. in fact, all the arts of both construction and expression exhibit at a given period the degree of civilization; art products are true historical documents. since then through their arts and crafts it is possible for one to know a people, does it not follow that one entrance to sympathy with the ideals and taste of the present time is through practice in the arts? of course a considerable mass of information about them can be conveyed in words, especially to adults who have passed the formative period in life and have not the same _work_-incentive as have children. but even the adult never really secretes much real knowledge of the arts unless he has worked in them. he acquires rather a veneer or artistic polish which readily loses its lustre in even a moderately critical atmosphere: he learns artistry and the laws pertaining thereto as he would learn the length of the brooklyn bridge or the population of el paso. he merely learns to talk about art. but children learn primarily and solely by _doing_, and the foundations of taste and culture need to be put down early that they may build upon them the best possible superstructure which time and opportunity permit. [illustration: copyright, , by cheshire l. boone an example of furniture such as boys like and which they can make under direction] [illustration: copyright, , by cheshire l. boone clay pots made for germination experiments in grade iv. of the public school. the boys of this grade built a small kiln in which these pots were fired] [illustration: the work of children between ten and eleven years of age] the foregoing paragraphs will perhaps have opened the way for questions: "what kind of knowledge is of most worth? why do children--practically all of them--try to make things, and what is their choice?" and when these queries have been answered so far as may be, do the answers possess immediate value? at the outset it will be evident that no sort of knowledge will be of much avail until it is put in such form that the student can use it to advantage. mere knowledge of any kind is inherently static--inert and often seemingly indigestible, like green fruit and raw meat. one too frequently meets college graduates, both men and women, equipped with so-called education, who are economic failures. these people are full of information, well up to date, but they seemingly cannot use it. their assortment of knowledge is apparently in odd mental sizes which do not fit the machinery of practical thinking as applied to life: it is like gold on a desert isle. what the boy and girl need and desire is ( ) a favorable introduction to the sources of information, and ( ) the key to its use. they will have to be shown simple facts and truths, and have their mental relations and importance explained. by gradually introducing new knowledge as occasion offers, the field of study is sufficiently widened. children profit little by books and tools alone: they crave encouragement and some direct constructive criticism. in such an atmosphere their endeavors become significant and profitable, and the accumulated learning will be applied to business or economic ideas which result in progressive thinking, which uses information as a _tool_, not an end in itself. if then the arts of a people stand as monuments to its beliefs and ideals, an intimate understanding of some of the arts ought to be provided for in every scheme of education both at home and in school. the child is by nature interested in the attributes of things associated with his life and upbringing. he wants to know about them, how they are made, and learn their uses by means of experiment. the elements of science, mechanics and natural phenomena, business and household art, and finally play (which is often adult living in miniature)--these comprise a large portion of the subject matter which is of prime importance to children. it is just such material as this which bids fair to serve in the future as the basis for public school curricula, simply because of its strong appeal to youth and its potential worth in forming the adult. the boy makes a kite, a telegraph outfit, or sled in order to give to his play a vestige of realism. he seeks to mold the physical world to personal desires, as men do. incidentally he taps the general mass of scientific facts or data and extracts therefrom no small amount of very real, fruitful information. the result possesses marvelously suggestive and lasting qualities because it came through effort; because the boy wanted above all things to see his machine or toy _work_, _move_, or obey his guiding hand, he was willing to dig for the necessary understanding of the problem. his study brought about contact with numerous other lines of work which were not at the time, perhaps, germain to the subject, but were suggestive and opened various side lines of experiment to be considered later. therein lies the lure of mechanics and craft work, gardening, outdoor projects, camping, etc.: the subject is never exhausted, the student can never "touch bottom." there is always an unexplored path to follow up. the intensity of interest in mechanical things and in nature is the one influence which can hold the boy in line. turn him loose among mechanical things where nicety of fitting and accurate workmanship are essential and he appreciates construction immediately, because it is clear that _workmanship_ and _efficiency_ go hand in hand. it is very much the same with the girl: she may not enjoy the tedium of mere sewing, but when the sewing serves a personal end, when sewing is essential to her greatest needs, these conditions provide the only, inevitable, sure stimulus to ambition and effort. the school of the past, and often that of the present, has sought to produce the adult by fertilizing the child with arithmetic, grammar, geography, and language. the process resulted in all kinds of crooked, stunted, oblique growth, the greatest assortment of "sports" (to use a horticultural term) the world has ever seen. it isn't intellectual food the child needs most (though some is very necessary); the real need is intensive cultivation. within himself he possesses, like the young plant, great potential strength and virility, enough to produce a splendid being absolutely at one with his time and surroundings; he simply requires the chance to use the knowledge and opportunities which lie at hand. it is, then, the common subjects of every-day interest--science, business, nature and the like--which are the sources of knowledge which has greatest worth to children.[a] they are the valuable ones because they are of the type which first attracts and holds the child's attention; they are concrete. through them one may learn language and expression, because one has something worth saying. the second question, "why do children like to make things and what is their choice?" in the light of what has been said practically answers itself. children work primarily in response to that law of nature which urges the young to exercise their muscles, to become skilful and accurate in movement, for the sake of self-preservation and survival. it is another phase of the same law which makes one carry out in work, in concrete form, the ideas which come tumbling in from all conceivable sources. the child can only think and learn in terms of material things. finally, the child's interests, the things he desires to make and do, are such as will minister to his individual or social needs, his play and imitation, and such as will satisfy his desire to produce articles of purpose. the need may be a temporary, minor one, but every child is stubborn on this one point, that everything he does must lead to utility of a sort; through such working with a purpose he in time rises to an appreciation of beauty and other abstract qualities. now this complex condition of child and school and society, in which there is seemingly so much waste--"lost motion"--has always existed; the facts are not new ones by any means. it is a condition where the child is always curious, inquisitive and ready to "hook a ride" on the march of business, science and learning, but the school sternly commands "learn these stated facts because they are fundamental" (philosophically), while society, represented by the parent, alternately abuses the school, which is collectively his own institution, or spoils the child by withholding the tools for learning easily. in the meantime the child, with the native adaptability and hardiness of true need, thrives in barren, untoward surroundings, and matures notwithstanding. in other words, the school and society have always tended toward misunderstanding--toward a lack of mutual interest. in this period of uncertainty, of educational groping, the child is found in his leisure hours pushing along the paths which connect most directly with life and action, shunning the beaten but roundabout highways of custom and conservatism. the deductions are evident and clear-cut. if one accepts the foregoing statement of the case, and there is ample evidence in any community of size, it will be clear that certain definite opportunities should be opened to the boy or girl to make the most of native talent and enthusiasm. encourage the young business adventurer or artisan to make the most of his chosen hobby (and to choose a hobby if he has not one already), to systematize it, develop it, make it financially profitable if that is the desire; but first, last and all the time to make it a study which is intensive enough to satisfy his or her productive ambitions. at this age (up to the high school period) the boy or girl may not have been able to decide upon a profession or business, but he is working toward decision, and he is the only one who can choose. instead of trying to select an occupation for him, father and mother would do well to put the child at the mercy of his own resources for amusement, recreation and business, merely lending a hand now and then in their full development. it will preserve the freshness of youth beyond the ordinary time of its absorption by a blasé attitude toward the world, and lead toward a more healthy and critical kind of study than the haphazard lonesomeness, or the destructive gang spirit of the modern community.[b] perhaps it would not be amiss to indicate just how this unofficial study may be promoted, and to name the resources of the parent for the purpose. first of all, nine children out of ten will definitely choose a hobby or recreation or indicate some preference, as photography, animal pets, woodwork, electricity, drawing, sport, one or more of the domestic arts, collecting coins, stamps, etc.; there are as many tastes as children. the child may get his suggestion from the school or companions. any legitimate taste should be actively encouraged and supplemented by books which really explain and by tools and materials with which to use the books. if it is a shop he wants, try to give him the use of some corner for the specific purpose so that the occupation may be dignified according to its juvenile worth. second, endeavor to emphasize the economic and social significance of the work done and urge right along some definite aim. if a boy wants a shop, or pets, see that they are kept in condition, attended to, and if possible give some measure of tangible return on the outlay of money and energy. third, connect the boy's or girl's chosen avocation with real living in every possible manner. girls are rather fond of those decorative arts which contribute to artistic pleasure, and should they make experiments with stenciling, block-printing, and the like, have them use them also in embellishing their own rooms, the summer camp or club. fourth, make the child feel that a given hobby is not to be satisfied for the mere asking. put some limit on the money expenditure until it is clear that the interest is genuine and honest, and that the child is either producing results which are sincere, or acquiring real knowledge. fifth and last, but perhaps most important of all, support the school in its effort to solve the problem of formal education, because the heavy burden rests there. it is quite essential that the home give the boy and girl every possible chance to develop along original and specific lines at their own pace, to experiment with the world's activities in miniature, and establish the probable trend of individual effort for the future. but this can only supplement and point the way for the formal training which the institution (school) gives. the school, being democratic and dependent upon the general public for existence, takes its cue therefrom, and creating ideals in consonance with public needs perfects the method of reaching them. when father and mother believe in a vigorous, efficient education, rooted deeply in the child's fundamental attitude toward the world and its affairs, then will the public approve and urge the proper kind of organized training. even so, the school cannot really educate the child--he educates himself through the agents aforementioned--it simply organizes information and gives the pupil access to methods of using facts and ideas. in closing this chapter there is one more word to be said concerning the main theme. the arts and crafts[c] of expression and construction fulfil that precise function in the child's preliminary training which they did in the early history of the race. they indicate just that degree of manual skill and constructive ability of which both the youthful individual and the young race are capable; they serve as indices and guides to the development of design, taste and constructive thinking. as the child matures he may elevate a given craft to an art or science, but the early familiarity, the simple processes, he should have, because they are essential to childhood. hence, the large amount of handwork in the kindergarten and primary school; it is the necessary complement to academic work and balances the educational diet. footnotes: [a] for the elaboration of this question as it concerns girls see chapter iv. [b] both boys and girls have clubs, societies and organizations, which are useless, enervating or merely harmless when they exist without purpose. if, on the other hand, the aggregate energy can be collected into profitable channels, these same gangs or societies are a real source of education and training. any organization without consistent, sustained purpose is a waste of social energy. baseball is worth while, but the merits of high school fraternities are doubtful. [c] it will be evident that the term _crafts_ as here used is a more comprehensive term than when employed in connection with the arts and crafts furore of the past few years. any kind of manual occupation may be a craft; if it involves a measure of art and science it may become more than a craft. but with children the craft stage, which is characteristic, includes many occupations which may not even be true crafts as the term is ordinarily used. chapter ii the cultivation of taste and design it will be evident to the thinking man or woman that art or any phase of it is not to be taught successfully as a profession through books. the very most that one can expect from reading is a knowledge about art matters and acquaintance with the conventions and rules which obtain therein. but even this slight result may be the precursor of a fuller, more intimate familiarity with the principles of good taste and design. one may be able to say "that is a beautiful room" or "a fine garden" or "a charming gown" and yet be unable to produce any such things. how is it possible then to _know_ if one cannot _do_? the answer is that, _potentially_, every individual who really sees and appreciates beauty can produce it through some form of artistic expression; the power to execute and the power of invention are merely undeveloped. and as for the artist or craftsman who can make beautiful things, but who cannot explain how he does it--he is unique, like the mathematical genius; he just sees the answer; it is a gift. though there are born in every generation a few with the divine spark of genius, the mass of men and women has always learned by effort. in other words, it has been possible to _teach_ the subjects which were found necessary to culture and education; it is quite possible to present the ordinary phases of art to the lay mind in such a way, even through books, that one may have worthy ideals, and a healthy point of view. the present chapter will be devoted to showing how books such as these[d] for boys and girls can contribute to the development of taste. frankly, taste has much less to do with fine art than with the arrangement and choice of the ordinary externals of living. of course fine art does in the last analysis pass judgment upon form, color and design in clothes, furnishings and architecture, but the common home variety of taste is derived directly from custom, comfort, and convention, not from art at all. only in the later stages of refinement does the lay mind succumb to direct supervision by art. on the other hand, all conventions and ideals are the result or sum total of general experience, in which art has played its part, and has left some impress on the individual, giving rise to belief in a few principles so common as to be accepted by all. principles of this kind are not always serviceable or effective, because they are not stated in precise language, and cannot therefore become standard. in truth, so far as design is concerned, there are very few absolute rules for guidance, and a book like "home decoration" cannot tell the child or parent how to make a beautiful, inspiring home. its mission is to create the desire for fine surroundings, to suggest ways and means for studying design, especially those phases of decoration associated with the crafts, and above all such a book invites and helps to maintain a _receptive attitude_ of mind toward artistic matters. in the effort to produce work of merit, one becomes critical, and seeks reasons and precedents for judgment. this is the beginning of design study: and the fact that one has real interest in taste is indicative of the desire of the cultured mind for ideals. if a child is allowed to grow up in the "i know what i like" atmosphere, without reasonable contact with choice things, and without the necessity for selection based upon reason, there is small chance that such a child will ever acquire any sense of fitness or taste in material surroundings. [illustration: two examples of furniture grouping for the porch or outdoors. these few pieces suggest comfort, cleanliness and moderate expense] [illustration: the numerous photographs in the upper illustration suggest disorder and dust. they do not decorate. sometimes a lack of small, insignificant objects like these is the secret of successful decoration] the aims of all practical books for boys and girls may be summarized about as follows: (_a_) to absorb the overflow of youthful energy and turn it into profitable channels. (_b_) to develop organized thinking and accomplishment, and eliminate wasted, aimless, non-productive action. this is the complement to the routine of formal training in academic subjects, which are in themselves, normally un-useful. (_c_) to explore the field of accomplishment in order to select intelligently a future occupation. (_d_) to develop and foster standards and ideals of efficiency, comfort, enjoyment, beauty and social worth. this last purpose includes taste and is the one of concern here. the peculiar æsthetic standards which interest young people are of the most practical kind. they apply every day and to everybody. and they are fundamental. the illustrations given below will indicate the common-sense way in which design should be approached: _color._ the tones of the color scale have not yet been systematized so well as those of music, but each year students of design and artists move a little toward agreement. now, suppose one wishes to use two or more tones in a room, how may harmonious effect be secured? the very word "harmony" means _agreement_, and suggests _similarity_, _likeness_, _relationship_. therefore the tones one would use in the embellishment of a room should possess some common _quality_ for the harmonizing element. each tone having that quality as characteristic is similar in that one respect to all other tones having the same quality. hence they are related in a way. the relation may be made strong or weak by the manipulation of the bond which holds the tones together. for instance: red and green are not related at all. by mixing gray with each, red and green become related through gray. by mixing yellow, orange or blue, etc., with red and green, the relationship may be established in the same way. yellow and green have a common quality--_yellow_, and in so far tend toward harmony. but it may not be a pleasing one, and it will be necessary to bring them still closer together by introducing other bonds, as gray or a color. yellow is very light and green is dark: they will work together better if brought nearer together in value. [illustration: an interesting curtain which might be duplicated by almost any girl--if she wanted curtains] [illustration: since flowers are so beautiful in themselves, is it not worth while to arrange them with judgment?] it is by such simple means that all color combinations are brought into line and rendered satisfactory. no rule can be given for mixing or choosing the actual colors, but it is a safe rule to select those of a kind in some respect. the popular belief in low-toned (grayed) color schemes is a sound one, and the principle can be used very comfortably by the amateur decorator in furnishing a home. she can have any colors she wishes, and make them pleasing, if she will unite them by some harmonizing tone. of course, all grays even are not rich and beautiful, but they are better than unadulterated color. mr. irwin in one of his breezy skits quotes the æsthete as saying: "good taste should be like the policeman at parade; he should permit the assembled colors to make an orderly demonstration but not to start a riot." the moment the unskilled amateur tries to use white woodwork, red wallpaper, and gilt furniture in combination, he or she courts failure simply because the choice lacks the pervading tone which would modify the three. there are ways to secure harmony even under the most adverse conditions, but the technical details are not pertinent here. another characteristic which stands in the way of harmony is _emphasis_. the moment any one tone becomes greatly _different_ from its neighbors in value or otherwise, it stands out, attracts attention, just as in material objects, unusual, curious shapes and sizes invite notice, often beyond their just dues. hence a brilliant yellow house, a bright green gown, large figured wallpaper, are over-emphatic. clothes, which by their color and style are loud in their clamor for inspection, are out of key and bear the same relation to surroundings which foreign, exotic manners and customs bear to domestic conventions. and ordinarily one does not seek such prominence. this question of taste is a vital one to children, and these books about "needlecraft," "home decoration," "outdoor work," "gardening," etc., are indirectly most useful because they put the child in a _position to choose_. the girl who sews and helps run the home is bound to cross the path of design a dozen times a day. she is faced with problems of arrangement, color and utility at every turn. her own clothes, her room, the porch and garden, whatever she touches, are inert, lifeless things which await artistic treatment. it is when the child is faced with the problem of personal interest and pleasure that these elementary conceptions of design may be proposed. _form and line._ each year fashion decrees for both men and women certain "correct" styles. at slightly longer intervals the shops offer new models of furniture, hangings, jewelry, pottery, etc. have these new things been devised to meet a change in public taste? not at all; they are inventions to stimulate trade. most of such productions are out of place, incongruous, in company with present possessions. one must have a pretty sound sense of fitness and selection in order to use them to advantage or to resist their lure. as single examples, many of the new things are beautiful in color and line, though they may have nothing whatever in common with what one already owns. one chooses a given pattern in furniture first, because of its _utility_; second, because of its harmony in line and size with other furniture already owned; and third, because of its intrinsic beauty. it is much less difficult to furnish a house throughout than to refurnish an old room in consonance with others already complete. all the household things need not be of one kind, though the closer one clings to a clear-cut conception of harmony (relationship of some kind) the better the result. hence clothes may either beautify or exaggerate personal physique, and the garden may attach itself to the house and grounds or stand in lonely, painful isolation. down at bottom design aims to assemble elements and parts into proper groups, and in the common questions of home decorations and dress the student can usually work on just that simple basis. it is usually the incongruous, over-prominent, conspicuous, or isolated factor in decoration which causes trouble. this fragmentary discussion will perhaps suggest some of the benefit which may come from the pursuit of crafts and occupations. the illustrations here given are in some detail because it is so easy to overlook design at home and in common things. everything is so familiar there, one is so accustomed to the furniture, rugs and their arrangement, that it never comes to mind that the situation might be improved. it must be remembered that, when children begin to apply design to their own handicraft, their fundamental conceptions of beauty originate in the home. either the children must lose faith in home taste, or, as they grow and learn, be allowed to bring their new-found knowledge back into the home and "try it on." this is where the craft does its real work. the true privilege conferred upon children by the possession of such books as these on various special occupations is a chance to obtain, first-hand, individual standards of perfection and beauty. before this they have merely accepted the home as it stood, with no thought of what was choice or otherwise. since taste and design are merely implied, or indirectly included in the several volumes, save "home decoration," the latter should be used as a supplementary reference in connection with the others. as has already been said, it is not possible or advisable to systematically teach good taste. it will be better and more effective to just _include_ taste in the several activities the child undertakes. when the girl begins to make things for herself, help her to select materials which are appropriate in every way. have her seek materials for the purpose. have her _choose_ decoration and color rather than take the first handy suggestion or copy the plans of another. she would do well to experiment independently. the girl should create her own room down to the last detail, not make everything herself, but plan it, plan its arrangement, its color (tone) if possible, and make those small decorative articles like pillows, runners, curtains, etc. but before beginning such a comprehensive experiment in decoration have her look about a bit and note the conditions imposed. the light and exposure, size of the room, furniture which must be used, treatment of hangings--these are all stubborn factors, but they respond to gradual treatment. then the room is hers in reality. the boy's attitude toward taste is totally different. he cares less than the girl for the charm of tone and arrangement; he is quite willing to despise the niceties of decoration. he must approach the question obliquely through interest in the efficiency of a given effort; he appreciates the utility phase of design most of all. the boy will come to see gradually that his pets and chickens should be decently housed, and that it is good business to do so. he should not be allowed to impose upon his own family or their neighbors a slovenly yard or garden. he will find that those tools work best which are sharp and clean and always in place. his final lesson in design grows out of association with his mates. when he begins to go to parties, to enter the social world in a small way, a new body of conventions in taste appear and he must be taught to appreciate them if he would be well liked. but the real training in design arises from manual work--the playthings, toys and utensils the boy makes for _use_. they need not be beautiful nor is there excuse for clumsiness in construction. one cannot expect even the mature child to take much interest in design in the abstract, but when he meets the subject on a common-sense basis, as a part of some personal problem, design--even taste in color and form--acquires definite standing in his esteem. it has earned the right. hence a liberal contact with youthful amusements and occupations encourages both boy and girl to build ideals of working, and among these ideals taste is bound to appear in some guise--usually unbidden. the book on design or decoration is but a reference, an inspiration, a stimulant, never a text of instruction. the ability to choose, to secure appropriate, beautiful, accurate results, is largely a by-product of judicious reading combined with persistent effort. it remains for the parent to skim off this by-product as it appears and infuse a little of it into each problem the child presents for inspection. footnote: [d] library of work and play. [illustration] chapter iii the real girl _what is the ideal home?_ [illustration: a school garden in jordan harbor, ontario, canada. any child who has had this experience, who has produced or helped nature to produce such wonderful things, will be richer in sympathy for fine things] [illustration: domestic science class. these girls not only cook but learn about foods, housekeeping, entertaining, and themselves keep open house at the school occasionally] strange as it may seem, most of the plans for industrial training, the majority of school courses of study, and probably seventy-five per cent. of the books on the crafts and arts have been devised for the use of boys. now there are hosts of girls in this world, probably as many girls as boys, and these girls are just as keen, intelligent, ambitious and curious about things and how to make them, as are boys. in very early childhood when both boys and girls have the same interests, similar books of amusement are used by both. but as girls develop the feminine point of view and need the stimulus of suggestion and aid in creative work, the literature for them seems meagre; they have somehow been passed by save for a manual now and then on cooking or sewing, left as a sop to their questioning and eagerness. this state of affairs is more than unfortunate, it is fundamentally wrong for two very good reasons. ( ) the girl up to the age of twelve or thirteen has practically the same interests, pleasures and play instincts as the boy. she is perhaps not so keenly alive to the charm of mechanical things as the boy, but like all children regardless of sex, she seeks to be a producer. she is just as much absorbed in pets and growing things, in nature, in the current activities of her environment, and requires the same easy outlet for her play instincts as the boy. ( ) the girl, when a woman grown, becomes the creator of the home, and too often enters upon her domestic career with a minimum of skill or taste in the great body of household arts, which in the aggregate, give us the material comforts and homely pleasures. moreover, since she, as a girl, probably did not have the chance to satisfy her play desires and consequently never learned to _do things_ herself, she is at a loss to understand the never ceasing, tumultuous demands of her own children for the opportunity to experiment. to quote gerald lee in the "lost art of reading," which is one of the real modern books: "the experience of being robbed of a story we are about to read, by the good friend who cannot help telling how it comes out, is an occasional experience in the lives of older people, but it sums up the main sensation of life in the career of a child. the whole existence of a boy may be said to be a daily--almost hourly--struggle to escape being told things ... it is doubtful if there has ever been a boy as yet worth mentioning, who did not wish we would stand a little more to one side--let him have it out with things. there has never been a live boy who would not throw a store-plaything away in two or three hours for a comparatively imperfect plaything he had made himself...." when one goes deep enough--below the showy veneer of present-day living--one comes to agree with mr. lee. the normal child, especially the boy, is potentially a creator, a designer, discoverer, and we have committed the everlasting sin of showing him short cuts, smoothing away difficulties, saying "press here." no child can survive the treatment. father and mother have the very simple obligation to furnish the place, raw material (books, tools, etc.), and encouragement. [illustration: copyright, , by cheshire l. boone the work of girls in the public schools, montclair, n. j. these girls are only eleven years of age] [illustration: a children's garden gives fresh air and sunshine, and best of all, brings nature very near. to be really happy one must make nature's acquaintance] for these reasons, if for no other, the girl ought to have a permanent outlet for her native ingenuity and constructive skill in such crafts and occupations as are adapted to her strength, future responsibilities and possible interests. a home should comprise other elements than food and clothes, which are bare necessities; and though these may be expanded and multiplied, becoming in their preparation real art products, they alone are deficient in interest. look over any well-ordered household, note the multiplicity of things it contains which are primarily woman's possessions, and collecting all one knows about them, the amount of real knowledge is surprisingly small. how much does the embryo housekeeper know about textiles, curtains, carpets, hangings, linens, brass, china, furniture? where do all these charming things come from? many of the hangings, table linen, embroidery, etc., are home products. they cannot be bought at all. the simple stenciled curtain which one likes so much draws attention by virtue of its personal quality. to have such things in any abundance the girl must create them, and this she is more than willing to do. how may one explain the restful atmosphere of certain homes visited? how many housewives have intelligent insight concerning home management and administration; of simple domestic chemistry or sanitation? yet these are vital elements in the domestic machine. one never mistakes a proper household, orderly, smooth running for the showy establishment--gay outside and sad inside. even the most untutored child unconsciously responds to the healthy influence of selected material environment and conditions, when these are combined harmoniously. there are systematic ways of creating pleasant rooms, fine grounds, comfortable places for living, places imbued with the spirit of contentment. the people who produce such places are seldom the professional decorator, landscape architect, and hired housekeeper. it is the woman of the family, who, having practised some of the arts, or at least been their disciple, has learned to appreciate order and love beauty. therewith comes an almost instinctive knowledge of how to use them to advantage. one can never really have beautiful baskets, pottery, sewing, gardens, until one has made them. one surely cannot appreciate the true worth of clean linen, a spotless house, and perfect routine anywhere so thoroughly as in one's own house. it naturally follows that the girl, like the boy, should be a producer, not a mere purchaser, of personal or domestic commodities. she may have unlimited means, but the place where she lives as a girl and the home she seeks to create in adult life will always be impersonal, detached, _hotel-like_, unless she personally builds it. she must know the structure, composition, and functions of inanimate things; this knowledge comes easiest and persists longer through use and experience. [illustration: all children love to play at being "grown up," even beyond the time of childhood. these girls will make real women, because they are normal and happy] [illustration: girls must sometime learn of the conventions and customs of domestic arrangement, and too often their only opportunity lies in such classes as these] there is a good bit of psychology behind the suggestions offered, and the reasoning is simple. all our ideas, our plans, and conceptions are just ideas and nothing more until they have been worked up into concrete form--put to test. there is nothing tangible about an _idea_. but living is real; hence all the details which comprise living are real too and mere thinking about them without action is futile. one must execute, arrange, and experiment with the raw materials of everyday use. the result is either pleasant or otherwise; if otherwise, the effort has somehow failed, and one should do it again and learn thereby; if pleasant, one is the richer and happier for a bit of success, and is warmed by the presence of mere accomplishment. this last phrase reveals the nub of the whole question--accomplishment. material surroundings and comforts of course go far to make one happy, and they are the evidence of success, but the ideal home is also composed of people each of whom is or should be a contributor to the work of the world. the ideal home contains no drones, and therefore no discontent. now the girl cannot plunge headfirst into the maelstrom of domestic management. she must learn her strength and acquire confidence, and there are simple occupations for early years, occupations which train the muscles, sharpen the wits; occupations which through suggestion gradually lead to a wider and wider intellectual horizon, and which, by a cumulation of information and experience, mature both judgment and taste. these occupations form, as it were, some chapters in the unwritten grammar of culture and efficiency whereby the girl grows in self-reliance and maturity. there are, for instance, a number of crafts which, in their delicacy of technique and the artistic worth of the finished product, are splendid occupations for girls, and some few of which every girl should know. the girl who cannot sew is an object for sympathy; it is the typical feminine craft for the reason heretofore named--that one cannot know how things should be unless one is familiar with the process involved. gowns are manufactured of pieces of cloth cut in proper shape and sewn together in some, to the male, occult fashion, and this complex operation only explains itself even to a woman by going through the experience. one has always been accustomed to think that the accomplished mistress is also an expert needle-woman or skilled worker in textiles of some kind. products of the needle and loom have always been her intimate, personal possessions, and the charm of old hangings, lace, needlecraft of all kinds, rests in the main on this personal quality. without a doubt the most precious belongings of the young girl are her own room with its contents of decorations and furnishing, and the garments which emphasize her inherent feminine charm. it is not only a girl's right, but her duty, to maintain her place as the embodiment of all that is fresh, cleanly and attractive. to this end clothes and the various other products of the needle contribute not a little; a clean-cut, thorough experience in manufacturing things for herself is the best assurance of future taste, which will spread out and envelop everything she touches. it is much the same with clothes and furnishings as with other matters, what one makes is one's own, characteristic, appropriate, adequate, with the touch of enjoyment in it; the purchased article is devoid of sentiment, it is a makeshift and substitute. then by all means let the girl learn to sew, learn to do for herself, to study her own needs and desires, to find as she progresses, ways to master the details of woman's own craft, and it is hoped, lay up a store of just the sort of experience which will enable her to supervise the work of others in her behalf when the time comes. but sewing, valuable as it is in connection with the young girl's problems, is not the only craft at hand. in recent years craftworkers have revived a number of old methods of using or preparing textiles for decorative purposes, and some of these have proven increasingly worth while in the household. stenciling, block-printing, dyeing, decorative darning, and even weaving itself, since they have been remodeled and brought out in simple form, offer opportunities to the wideawake girl. the results in each case may be very beautiful, and perhaps more in harmony with the individual taste and scheme of living of the particular girl than any materials she could buy, because they may be designed and executed for a specific place. few people, least of all a child, work just to be busy; there is always a motive. with the girl it is a scarf, a belt, collar, curtain, or sofa pillow; is it not well worth while if she can make these for herself or her room, in her chosen design motif, (as rose, bird, tree, etc.) and color? it may be an ordinary design, peculiar color, but they satisfy a personal sentiment which, by the way, can be modified and improved as time goes on. one must needs allow children to begin with the bizarre, distorted, seemingly unreasonable, archaic desires they have and cross-fertilize these with better ones in the hope of producing a fine, wholesome, sturdy attitude of mind. among the minor crafts which may be a source of real pleasure and good taste, two are prominent: pottery and basketry. the technique, decorative possibilities, and functions of the finished products as elements in household economy and ornament place these crafts high in the list of those especially suitable for girls, though boys and adults do find them equally interesting. pottery is so closely associated with flowers and growing things, with the decoration of fine rooms, with choice spots of color, and with those receptacles and utensils which belong to the household, that it makes a strong appeal to the feminine mind. here is a craft which vies with textiles in age and beauty of design, and possesses even greater charm of manipulation because it is plastic. one can imagine no finer outlet for creative effort. lastly, there is the eternal, magnificent, womanly craft--home-making. when one stops to think that the home is the one imperishable, absolute social unit, the power which creates it must take rank with other vital forces of constructive economics. mothers' clubs and women's organizations of divers kinds, or, rather, the individuals who comprise such societies, are continually drifting into the discussion of the worries, difficulties, and trials which attend the household. the instant household routine becomes awkward or inadequate it affects adversely each individual member of the family, and naturally the mistress who is responsible shoulders a burden. there are times when the maid leaves, or the cooking goes wrong, or the house is cold, or just a time when one gets started for the day badly. there are times when the innate perversity of humans and material things runs riot. one is led to believe that such untoward occasions, since they have been in the past, will in all likelihood continue to crop up to the end of time, though one cannot find any good reason why they should. there are homes unacquainted with any household rumble or squeak, where the domestic machinery is always in order, and flexible enough to care for sudden overloading, or absorb any reasonable shock. in many such places, devoid of servants and confined to a modest income, the mistress is ever an expert; the chances are that her daughters will be equally resourceful. really, the only sure way to bring up an adequate number of fine, competent, resourceful wives and home-makers is to train them definitely for the profession. the girls must be made acquainted with every detail of the business which they will surely inherit. the people who would live in hotels and frankly abandon home-making themselves merely emphasize the charm of the household, because hotels have nothing in common with homes. it seems rather strange that a business so old as housekeeping does not, and never has, applied to its development the laws of commercial enterprise. when the community or corporation state sees the need for workmen, foremen or directors, it tries to educate individuals for the purpose. the supply of competent men and women is not left to chance. whereas, womankind trusts to a very fickle fortune, that every girl will somehow learn to steer the domestic craft and be conversant with methods of preserving family ideals. contrast the far-sighted plans of business to fill its ranks with the casual training the average girl undergoes to fit her for the future. what is her chance of success? is it reasonable to suppose that one who has never made a home, or even helped actively to run one made for her, can on demand "make good?" it is a lasting tribute to the inherent genius and indefatigable patience of the modern woman that she has achieved so much with a minimum of experience. hence, in order to properly equip one's children for a practically inevitable future, let the girls into the secret of domestic planning; let them know of costs and shopping, income and expenditure; of materials and uses; the care of possessions, repairs and cleaning; try to show them that the menu is not a haphazard combination of ingredients and foods, but a conscious selection of viands which will entice the appetite, furnish proper nutrition and accord with the season. by all means emphasize the fact that housekeeping, like any business, can be systematized so that the hundred and one activities may succeed one another in orderly procession through the weeks and months. wash day and housecleaning should be absorbed into the domestic program, and never present their grisly features to the home-coming male, with sufficient trouble of his own. recent issues of the magazines have contained much discussion of the household tangle, and most of them have ended with the slogans "industrial education," "back to the kitchen," and such. granted that girls need this training, and that schools in time will give it; granted that the social position of the servant is a source of discussion and friction; that the demands of modern living are exacting; and, finally, granting the insistent prominence of all the other economic disturbances, who is, in the last analysis, to blame? would a business man think for one moment of handing over any department of his affairs to one not trained for the particular duties involved? industry in every branch seeks men and women _fitted_ to take charge of even minor matters. and when trained assistants are scarce the obvious policy is to prepare other promising workers for such special places. on the other hand, mothers too often prepare their daughters for marriage, not for home-making, seemingly blind to the fact that marriage is an inert, barren, static condition, save in the stimulating atmosphere of a fine home. how can the servant question ever be settled by untutored girls who get no closer to the domestic question than fudge, welsh rarebit and salted peanuts? the _school can and does_ now, in all well-ordered communities, give a very satisfactory formal, technical training in domestic art and science.[e] there students learn to cook and sew; they learn a good deal about food values, dietetics and simple food chemistry, simple sanitation, etc. but the management of a real house, system and everyday routine, that fine sense of adjustment to the conditions as they exist--these essentials can only be learned in the home itself. the efforts of the school can largely supplement but never replace home guidance, experience and _responsibility_. keeping house ought to be a science and art rather than a game of chance. _definite suggestions_ in the "library of work and play," to which the present book is the introductory volume, one will find a collection of books replete with suggestion. but these are not manuals, or courses to be followed from end to end, because children do not _profit most_ by such a plan. the child is like a pebble dropped into still water. it communicates its energy of momentum to the surrounding fluid and makes a circular ripple, which in turn makes another and wider ripple, until the energy is exhausted. in much the same way the child, landed in the midst of a more or less inert material world, acts upon it with energy, _which, however, is never exhausted_, producing the results which become more and more extended. he begins in the middle of a given subject and works in all possible directions, which gives one the clue to how to make the most of books like these.[f] if the girl has not already indicated a decided preference for some recreation or play, place at hand the books which show the possibilities open to her. it would be well for one to go over them rather carefully first in order to know what they contain. let the girl take her leisure in searching the chapters and illustrations for the suggestion which strikes a responsive chord. ofttimes it will be quite in order to point to chapters which have a bearing on some personal need or desire. at any rate, the book or chapters which seem to be most significant at the time should be followed up. read over with her such a volume as "home decoration" or "housekeeping." let her discuss the plans offered and try them out in her own home. every girl wants and should have a dainty, inspiring, beautiful room of her own, and as she grows older she also wants the rest of the house to match, so that she can entertain her friends with pride and confidence. if one will take "housekeeping," "home decoration," and "needlecraft" as texts, and select from them first those suggestions which are _immediately apt_ in a particular home, the girl will shortly find herself looking at home problems from several different and very important angles. but it is desirable also that the study be taken up first in a very simple way, in order to tie it to real living and needs. new curtains, pillows for the porch or den, stenciled scarf, the decorations and menu for a small party, additional linen: these are some of the problems always coming up, which may be used as a beginning. and once the start is made the girl should have the chance to try other experiments along the same line. read with her the chapter on menus and marketing, or housecleaning, and turn the house over to the daughter for a time to manage--absolutely. there is nothing in the world which children love more or which develops them more quickly than responsibility, and the mutual consideration of household affairs gives the girl real partnership in the domestic business. she may use the "housekeeping" book as a kind of reference, to be sought when new problems in management fall to her share. the question of home decoration is so vital that it deserves special statement. the text[g] deals with all those details of interior furnishing and embellishment which indicate taste. all of these are not equally important, nor do they interest all girls to the same extent, and in using the book one can profit most by the study of those topics which touch the individual or particular family. but everywhere there is the problem of furniture arrangement, wall decorations, color schemes, and the skilful use of flowers, pottery and textiles. give the young people, and especially the girls, an insight into how the interior should be treated. have them look up pertinent questions in the text and then try their 'prentice hands at creating a pleasant, restful, homelike house with the furnishings at hand plus whatever they can make or secure. really, the book is as much a volume of suggestion for the mother, to which she can refer her daughter, as a text for the child. there is very keen interest in taste in recent years, among young people as well as parents, and the elements hitherto lacking have been ( ) accessible information and ( ) opportunity to "try it out." offer that opportunity; a flat is just as fruitful a field for experiment as a house, perhaps more. the active participation in outdoor life, nature-study propaganda and the multiplication of popular scientific (nature) literature has greatly opened another field to children--that of raising pets, gardening, etc. here the boy or girl will readily make some choice at an early day, if there has been any contact with such things. if not, a volume of this kind[h] will be a real stimulant and inspiration, as it should be, not a lesson manual. place the book in a child's hands, help him look over the conditions, available ground, cost, care, etc.; let him send for circulars and catalogues, or if possible visit some one interested in the same hobby and the experiment is under way with irresistible momentum. it is a godsend to any child to give him a simple, direct statement of what can be done; he furnishes the steam and imagination for future development, and father and mother comprise the balance wheel of the business. this volume and the one on "outdoor sports" contain a mass of information which touch the interests of practically all boys and girls at some time in their first sixteen years. when the child is old enough to launch out in any personal undertaking, old enough for even minor responsibilities, when he or she expresses the desire for possession and money, then give them books like these. let them soak in and digest. encourage only those requests which are convincing, but give them all the scope possible. every child will eventually select the pastimes which are best for her though she may stumble in doing so; she will make fewer mistakes, and waste less time if she have access to books which will crystallize and guide her ambitions. footnotes: [e] as the high schools of springfield, newton, and brookline, mass.; cleveland, ohio; los angeles, cal., among others. and the elementary schools of practically every well-organized community. [f] "library of work and play." [g] "home decoration." [h] "outdoor life." [illustration] chapter iv that boy "the prime spur to all industry (effort) was and is to own and use the finished product."--hall. one day the pedagogue, who was a learned man and addicted to study, shut himself up in his library, bent on devising a method for training boys into men. this master was well versed in the sciences so that he could follow the stars in their courses, make the metals and substances of the earth obey his will, and guide the plants in their growth from seed to blossom. nor was this scholar lacking in sympathy for the arts, if they were not too fine, for his desires all led to systems and orderly arrangements of matter, and those subjects which would not succumb to analysis he looked upon coldly. [illustration: a boy's camp with ernest thompson seton. there was never a boy who did not "make-believe," and here the play spirit, under stimulating guidance, becomes a powerful factor in developing the appreciation of community effort] [illustration: the play idea very soon grows toward the representation of primitive though adult customs and actions, in which several join a common body or company. hence city gangs which merely seek romantic expression] hence in this problem of education he made a careful survey of the history and development of learning from the beginning--seeking those ideals and standards of culture which had been approved for the _scholar_, because scholars have always been held in high esteem by those patrons who, being ignorant themselves, wanted scholarship nearby. it was found in the course of his delving that the sciences had originated and developed in about this order, mathematics, astronomy, geology, botany, biology, etc. the arts of expression had of course developed as a group, but chiefly through literature from the beginning. there seemed to be a good deal of recent interest in machines and engineering, and of course certain classes had always tilled the soil, because one must have food; but the study of these activities could not lead to culture, because culture had always had to do with thinking, not manual labor. therefore it became clear to the master that up to the present time, since the end of all scholarly ambition had been a profession (law, medicine, theology, etc.), education must be a very simple matter. all one had to do was to prepare certain capsules of mathematics, grammar, greek and latin, and a few, very few, odd pellets of science, etc., and at stated intervals stimulate the boy's mental organism with the various toxins in rotation. were these subjects not the very basis of culture, and what would be more logical than direct systematic presentation of the fundamental principles? if the patient did not respond nothing could be done but to use more medicine, more lessons; there could be but one line of treatment. with this question settled the good savant signified his readiness to instruct youth in such branches as were desirable for the educated man, and pupils came in numbers to obtain the precious learning, for the pedagogue was favorably known as a great scholar. but these pupils who came, like the master, happened to live in or about the year , when the chief interests of the people were business, science, and engineering; when transportation and communication had become highly developed and systematized; when farming and agriculture were almost arts, the whole welfare of the nation rested on industry, and utility held high rank as an element in culture among the people who worked. even when a boy of this period did not seek industrial honors and follow in the footsteps of his father, he must needs be interested as a citizen in so important a source of prosperity. hence the children who set out to become pupils of the learned teacher were alive to the business and activities of their time and surroundings, and were more than willing to learn when the learning led to a useful end. but the scheme proposed by their mentor was such a queer scheme. of course it was better to go to school than do nothing and one must study a few things, but how much more fascinating and worth while to talk about birds and animals, trolley cars, the railway, electricity, machines, and doing things with a purpose, than to discuss impossible stories written by people who evidently knew very, very little about young people, to learn unending pages of numbers and definitions and facts, which, since one had no use for them, were speedily forgotten to make room for better material? [illustration: a typical boy's workroom and shop. pride of personal possession develops rather early and the boy should have a place of his own] [illustration: the kind of shop which one may have at home] now these children were obedient and reverent toward learning and did the tasks assigned them by their master, but in their leisure hours they did a good bit of experimenting along other lines, and found several other studies which were not in the master's scheme much more to their taste. animals and pets were not only nice, live, soft, downy, fuzzy things to play with, but they had such queer ways and were so useful that one could talk about them forever. and then if one raised numbers of them, often neighbors would desire to purchase, and behold, a business began whereby it was just possible one could make a profit now and then. again, it was fine if one had even a few tools so that one could put together the toys and playthings _necessary_ to every-day amusement. of course it was needful to measure and calculate and scheme about materials and costs, but all this scheming led to real purpose, while the questions proposed by the teacher were just questions after all and it couldn't make much difference whether one found the answer or not. now the usual thing happened. because of their reverence for traditional learning and respect for its apostle the youths continued to attend upon the master and go through the ceremonial form of intellectual purification. but really their hearts were outside, wrapped up in the work of the world, where they had found just the tonics which were good for them. in just so far as the school and home open ways which "enable the student to earn a livelihood and to make life worth living" do we see the passing of the old type school (suggested above) and ideal of training. not only are there comparatively few in this world capable of receiving high polish through the so-called culture studies, but the definition of culture has changed; now _any activity is cultural which arouses one's best efforts_. moreover, the boy of the present is on the lookout for a new type of instructor, one born of the new era of industrial success, a teacher who will unlock the mysteries of modern nature, science, engineering and business, and who will make it possible for the student to find his special abilities or bent at an early age. it is no argument at all to say that the boy is too young to know what is best for him, that the mature mind is the only safe guide. the adult teacher and parent becomes a true guide only when he uses as a basis for guidance those qualities and instincts of childhood which cannot be smothered or eradicated. the child, whether boy or girl, knows instinctively some of the kinds of information which do not agree with him, because they possess no significance at the time and he cannot assimilate and fatten on them. the child needs a new and more nutritious mental diet. father and mother cannot be of great _direct_ assistance because, strange to say, they are not experts with _children_, they merely know _a child_ (their own) passably well, but they can provide a most effective, indirect, contributory stimulus through outside opportunities for healthy play and experiment which will supplement the formal instruction of the school. and children of all ages up to the time they go to college need some strong outside interest, or group of them, which will serve as a finder to determine the trade, profession, or business of the future man. [illustration: the kite fever is an annual disease. common to practically the whole country. but it is a disease which flourishes only among normal children, chiefly boys] [illustration: pump and waterwheel. a type of mechanical problem which the boy may begin with, both in and out of school, because it touches his keenest interest] the children who enter the school, from whatever grade of society or given race, are all much alike--lively little animals that sleep, eat and talk continuously, and play, though play and expression are one and the same. they do what all animals do--keep on the move, acquire muscular skill and precision, and endeavor by every possible means to express their ideas and convey them to others. this expression takes on a constructive phase when children play at store, keeping house, fire engine, and make toys of paper and cardboard, and such amusement is the forerunner of that intense mechanical interest which overtakes boys about the age of ten or eleven.[i] girls have an equally positive leaning which is characteristic and will be noted elsewhere. watch any group of boys of average parentage and surroundings and make a list of the things they construct for themselves, for their own ends. in any such list extending over a period of several months will be found, according to locality, such things as wagons, sleds, whistles, kites, dog houses, pigeon roosts, chicken coops, boats, guns, etc., etc. the young artisan uses whatever raw material he can; he is chiefly concerned with the plan, and makes the best of conditions and materials. the things he makes are always for real use, a principle held in high esteem in all the arts. in making these toys the boy acquires some exceedingly valuable information and a physical skill and perfection which can only be secured at an early age. he learns about things, about raw material, about tools and utensils common to every household; he gets on speaking terms with the fundamental laws of mechanics and, more than one would imagine, develops a real ingenuity in molding material to his immediate needs. the construction of a bird house or kite is in itself simple enough, but the boy has to spend considerable effort in finding out how to do it, which is beneficial. moreover, this constant struggle to get into tune with his physical environment and subdue it results in a considerable independence, confidence, and resourcefulness, which under moderately favorable conditions will produce a boy alert to the world in which he lives and full of the spirit of investigation--the critical attitude. such a boy will not lean on others for either learning or pleasure. [illustration: boat made by percy wilson and donald mather, montclair, n. j., independent of adult assistance. the method of construction, which is unique and sound, was devised by the boys] [illustration: copyright, , by cheshire l. boone these are the forerunners of numerous other electrical constructions, many of which are produced out of school, in the home workrooms and shops] actually, however, the modern boy has not been encouraged along these lines, nor has he been taken very seriously in those activities which affect him most; hence his struggle toward any real efficiency. a prominent man once said: "when i was fifteen years of age i could break wild horses to saddle or harness, and teach kicking cows to stand while they were being milked. i could fell trees and drop the tree in any direction desired. i knew the relative value of all native woods, appreciated the differences in soil, grains, fruits, and simple minerals. i could use the draw-shove, adze axe, broad axe, cross-cut saw, sickle and cradle. i could make a figure-four trap, an axe helve, a neck yoke, axe yoke, whiffletree, clevis, and could braid an eight-strand cattle whip. we used to mend our harness on rainy days and i could make a wax-end and thread it with a bristle, and use a brad-awl. i knew how to construct an ash-leach and to make soft-soap, apple butter, and pumpkin pies. i knew the process of weaving flax and wool, of making and burning brick. i knew on sight and had names for a score or more of birds, and had a good idea of the habits of squirrels, skunks, wolves, and the fishes that swam in the creeks. i knew how to cure hams, shoulders, and side-meat: to pickle beef and cover apples with straw and earth so that they would keep in safety through the most severe winter, and open up in the spring fresh and valuable. of course my knowledge was not of a scientific order, and i could not have explained it to another, because i never knew i had it." how many boys or girls of the present time possess anything like this sum of _useful knowledge_--useful for the conditions in which they live? there was a time when children had to learn in order to survive, and now that the necessity is removed and children are simply allowed to grow without purpose, the boy and girl inevitably lose one of the best elements in their training unless new opportunities are opened. it is not difficult to see how the boy's interest in construction grows and expands; mere acquaintance with boys will furnish the data. at a comparatively early stage the youthful experiments are naturally sifted to a few specialties, which assume prominence either because of the boy's reading or the type of locality in which he lives. from time to time his interest may shift, investigating one subject after another, always seeking the unknown avocation. the process will probably lead in time to a more or less fitting selection of trade or profession. how else is the boy to find himself? [illustration: copyright, , by cheshire l. boone a real derrick in miniature, operated by means of a waterwheel (at the right). the lifting, turning and handling of the bucket are controlled by levers attached to spools (in the middle section). this sort of thing is part of regular school work] [illustration: waterwheels (lower illustrations) and fan (upper illustration), made by public school pupils] after he has passed through the preliminary stages of mere play and haphazard amusement the boy becomes conscious of the mysterious, unusual forces of electricity; they hold even adult attention and wonder, but the boy, being more impressionable and confident, immediately forages for information, reads enormously, and experiments. he takes in the whole subject with a vim and sureness that is _de facto_ evidence of its intrinsic worth for study purposes. and in a much shorter time than adults would require, he has mastered the fundamental laws and is eager to put this wonderful force to work, to make things move. he has the same attitude toward steam and gas engines, water motors, and studies them with the same intensity of purpose. here are dynamic elements which appeal to the human appreciation of _power_ and which may be harnessed, subdued. the idea is comparable to the ancient reverence for fire, water and the storm. since modern science has organized engineering and mechanical knowledge and simplified it, the student can have at his disposal just the books and periodicals needed to unlock this storeroom of mystery; these publications were written for the purpose. but there are several other openings for creative effort which appeal no less strongly, and among which both the boy and girl may choose, with complete confidence that there will be ample room for initiative, ingenuity, and utilitarian bias. every child loves to go camping, and in common with his elders reveals the close connection with primitive life in general through the pleasure derived from the simplicity of camp life. there in the woods, where conveniences are few, every device and construction counts the utmost, and its purpose is apparent. the whole spirit of such living is more in harmony with child nature and longings than the modern city home; it supplies the craving for physical freedom and places the boy or girl almost entirely on his own resources. what he obtains in the way of pleasure comes from his own efforts and is correspondingly precious. the boy especially finds in camp just as much chance for mechanical skill as elsewhere. temporary furniture, utensils, cooking conveniences, the shelter, traps, etc., are suggestive. and lastly the unconventional, untrammeled outdoor life stands in that same relation to the boy as it did to the savage (because boyhood is a primitive stage); he puts forth his strongest endeavors to conquer the elements, the climate, the earth, and growing things; to provide himself with food and shelter--in other words, to survive as the savage sought to survive. the idea is truly epic. no wonder the child expands and develops under the simple responsibilities imposed, and absorbs woodcraft with such astonishing ease. the recent extraordinary growth of the summer camp among boys' schools, and the results suggested in the writings of ernest thompson seton, are, with the unfolding of industrial education, two pointed examples of the shifting view of education in the home as well as school. probably no outside agency will in time become so effective for good as the boy scouts, whose code is based on a very primitive framework suited to boys. during a recent visit to california, and while crossing the flat prairies of kansas, the writer saw a company of scouts at work. it was borne in upon the observer that there was an organization which fitted every locality, every climate; it appealed to _boy_, not _creed_, _social order_, time, or _adult dogma_. [illustration: copyright, , by cheshire l. boone a self-recording telegraph receiver. an excellent example of what the juvenile mechanical mind will attempt. the number of boys interested in such projects is considerable] [illustration: wireless station and workroom of donald huxom, montclair, n. j. this, too, indicates how boys square themselves with scientific progress] one should at least mention athletics in this connection, because of the excellent physical benefit in both activities. athletics, however, contains an element which is all-important--team work. and no restraint is so much needed, nor so cheerfully heeded for that matter, by the restless boy and girl as a community of effort. the elimination of a purely selfish personal point of view is very difficult to bring about with the best of children, because they are wrapped up in their own affairs, and nothing serves to introduce them to the rights of others and the value of concerted action for a common good so well as sport. the kind does not matter. any well-conducted, clean enjoyment of this kind develops that mental pliability and willingness to _take a part_ which is a fundamental of citizenship. incidentally leaders arise, and the beginnings of organization dawn. it is a great day when the boy learns his first code of signals in the ball team! [illustration: copyright, , by cheshire l. boone an electrical soldering iron and glue-pot, made at suggestion of instructor for use in school shop] [illustration: copyright, , by cheshire l. boone waterwheel connected with model lathe] there is one more side (at least) to the boy and girl business--_earning money_. it is nothing short of marvelous that this desire for personal income, however small, has not been taken seriously. why do children want to earn money? for the best reason in the world, _independence_. man's entire existence from the earliest age down to the twentieth century has been one long struggle toward it--toward survival. first he had to combat the elements and animals, then his fellows, for possession of food, lands, water, raw materials, and wives. when he found that possession of certain commodities added to his importance and therefore comfort and safety, and especially to his privilege, he sought wealth and its freedom. now the boy and girl follow stages in development toward similar independence, and among the privileges most desired is that of money or possessions of value. if they earn it, the amount represents so much work and gives the coins a fixed worth which cannot be established in other fashion. moreover, this desire for income (rather than money) is one characteristic of the child between the ages of thirteen and fifteen years. his power of reasoning and organization are developing rapidly, and it is the time when adult ideals and actions first look attractive. the time is ever ripe for launching the boy or girl into any avocation which holds their fancy, that they may forget their own oblique tendencies to laziness, stubbornness, wayward action, and selfishness; these are all characteristic of the stage. sex changes too play no inconsiderable part, because the boy's companions are for a time all masculine. business of some kind is just what he needs, and if that business is profitable, a powerful motive is supplied. perhaps the keenest interest is that in nature, and most children at some time have desired pets--chickens, rabbits, pigeons, dogs, song birds. there is scarcely a town or city condition where some animal hobby cannot be pursued without disturbing others' peace of mind. but it should be looked into seriously as a business, a miniature counterpart of other like enterprises. the disposal of personal service and products to others brings the child in close contact with numbers of adults and adult standards and business connections. it fosters responsibility and places upon the child the burden of proof, to show that he is entitled to a place as a valuable member of society. and just here it may be well to say, even if the child does not need the money he earns, it will be the most precious he will ever own, because since it came through effort, it will be spent with due caution. the vegetable and flower garden may be made to yield similar returns and such products are always salable. in addition, every house, every yard, every farm is in constant need of repairs, changes and care which the alert boy or girl can furnish. the development of such odd tasks into a business parallels the development of every large enterprise which began in a modest way. it fosters the best of personal and civic ideals, and tames the restless, self-conscious energy of youth into smooth and profitable channels through which to journey in peace to a sane maturity. [illustration: excellent examples of high school work which is really profitable. these machines will work and develop power which can be measured] [illustration: a manual training shop] is it any wonder that education is so ineffective at times? in the light of present-day appreciation of physiology and psychology it is increasingly clear that education has furnished an impersonal, rather stilted system of stuffing along restricted lines for a warm-hearted, all-inquisitive, nature-loving human animal which automatically refuses to be nourished thereby, and forages elsewhere. although the child's judgment can by no means be followed concerning what is best for him, his instincts and possible future will serve as a most excellent guide. his early training must take into account those interests which are most keen and lasting and use them as the framework for instruction, and all subsequent stages of training involve a distinct obligation to build upon this elementary foundation, with a view to social worth. most children will have to earn a living (the girl usually helps by managing the home), and this necessity is preëminent. but whether rich or otherwise, the ideal of social worth remains for all. and the least the home can do is to nurse childhood's efforts and experiments in play and occupation which lead finally to mature judgment and conceptions. _how to use books with boys_ boys probably obtain more help from books than girls do because they are more self-reliant, more assertive and impatient. and as has been indicated, more books have been written for boys, but the same general method of use is common to both. the boy too finds in the book of crafts, mechanics, science, or sport a stimulant and incentive. he reads it much as he would a story of adventure. no matter what his greatest enjoyments may be, the perusal of accounts of others' juvenile activities widens the productive horizon in a way not to be ignored, and for this reason "how to do" books of all kinds are a serious element in the boy's life, at a time when he is less concerned with what to do than with how to produce something. but there is a danger in this catholicity of interest: it may become dilettantism. the boy may merely potter or fuss with one hobby after another, more because he cannot supply the need for more and more information, than because he does not care. hence it is worth while from time to time to add more fuel to the flame of ambition in a given direction, to provide books and tools, a working place or shop, and open the way for progress in some stated direction. [illustration: the machine shop. public school, montclair, n. j.] [illustration: the study of aeroplane construction, public school , n. y. city. this toy is full of possibilities for the live boy] [illustration: a successful machine] [illustration: finished aeroplanes. public school , n. y. city] specifically, books like those on "mechanics, indoors and out," "electricity," and "carpentry," and parts of "outdoor work" may be considered as of one type. when he receives the books the boy will spend days in absorbing their contents, maybe dreaming a bit over the possibilities in view, and finally, by a process which will always be unintelligible to the adult, will light upon a problem or group of them that meets his wishes, as the kite for instance; all he needs from then on is human sympathy with the, to him, important undertaking, and he will gallop through all phases of the kite construction and devices, aeroplanes, propellers, forms of motive power, probably bringing up short at the steam or gasoline engine, which opens another chapter. the really important item connected with the use of such books is to keep the young mechanic on one thing at a time. a bit of judicious questioning now and then, always aimed at a group of related problems upon which he may be engaged, will keep his mind working connectedly. his efforts will then be cumulative in effect. visits to the aero park, the museums, to the shops and technical schools, and to the local power plants are other distinct aids which should be invoked to supplement and emphasize reading and experiment. in some of the cities model kite and aeroplane contests are held at regular intervals, and these put boys on their mettle to succeed. in fact the proper way to use books of this kind is to _let the boy use them_; let him begin in the middle of the book and work outward or at the end and go backward, but see that he has books which present the subject vividly, simply. provide him with the essential tools and materials and a place to work. about the surest way to make a success with boys is to let them have a room or corner of their own where they can work to their hearts' content, where they can store their precious belongings, and where companions may come and talk over things. really the book is inadequate alone. unless one provide the opening for action, books but aggravate and excite the mind, mockingly spur the student on to "do." hence with the book goes a tacit obligation to provide means and place, even the most modest, for putting the book to test. there is yet another phase to this use of books, and it is one which the boy will usually meet, if the texts are adequate. it is this: whatever the young student does best will be the result of real desire, real personal enthusiasm. it is a fallacy to suppose that the boy interested in tools should always put up shelves, mend the door, or fix the fence. he will execute these tasks cheerfully, but they are not the subject of his dreams. on the other hand, if the desire be to earn money, to have a small business of his own, fences and shelves and plant stands may be the most interesting things in the world to him, because they are _means_, not _ends_. hence the printed book is no teacher or trainer of children, no direct guide to future vocation, but is the very essence of inspiration, the foundation from which the young secures nourishment for day dreams and ambitions, out of which he patiently weaves the rich fabric of experience. footnote: [i] this bias toward mechanics has already been noted by teachers and parents, but in recent years has assumed unusual significance because of the extraordinary development of industry. this, combined with the researches of modern psychology and pedagogy, has introduced a new, a powerful motive into teaching. [illustration] chapter v a house and lot--especially the lot the past decade has witnessed a movement, just now taking aggressive shape, which is unique--the interest in outdoors, nature study, farming, summer homes, sport, and what is termed the simple life. it is a movement filled with the greatest promise of any among the host now claiming attention, and bids fair to soothe the tired nerves and over-stimulated minds of a frantically industrial age. busy men and women, particularly the men, who once thought their affairs would become hopelessly muddled if they were not at the desk each and every day, now indulge in sport, farming or gardening, and horticulture. they have become convinced of the benefits of fresh air and consequent health, and have a calmer, more serene outlook on life as a whole. it has become "quite proper" now to live in the "country," even though the country is represented by a lot Ã� , for one may have a garden which produces wonders even on such a lot. indirectly, people get the desire to fix up their homesteads, to plant hedges and vines, to have window boxes and put on a kind of apologetic style which develops into conscious pride ultimately. one cannot play with such an avocation long without learning a bit more about nature in general, and without any conscious resolution drifts into keeping chickens or pets as a kind of pleasurable refuge from mundane things. all this activity is much more than a fad; it points to a recurrence of the primitive instinct to always bridge the ever-widening gaps between nature and the human, who is merely an extra-developed animal himself. children always possess in a marked degree a love for outdoors, for animal life, for growing things, and fight hard during the early years to satisfy the desire. when they cannot achieve results at home, the surplus energy is worked off by harrowing the neighbors. steam will do a great deal of work when under control, but if one allows steam to accumulate it must get off sooner or later, and children are under steam always. [illustration: the boy who does not love to camp is unique. this illustrates one of ernest thompson seton's camps where boys come in contact with nature at her best] [illustration: this and other illustrations of homes in this chapter, show such places as people make when they care about appearances] the adult, when he becomes a city dweller, takes his nature study in stiff two-weeks' doses, fishing or shooting, plus all the modern gastronomic tidbits he can carry, and accumulates a fine crop of scientific fables and sunburn. this is not real rest, not even the best acquaintance with nature; rather it is a sort of primitive spree, inherited in garbled form from tradition as a seasonal necessity. the truly fine side to the nature movement lies in its influence on everyday living through a sound regard for what nature can do at her best, and the resultant modification of taste in general. it is a questionable satisfaction to make a whirlwind campaign into nature's midst for a few short weeks, comfortably supported by the consciousness of urban conveniences in the end, when there is the possibility of bringing nature to our very doors, almost to the hearthstone. nature is complacent and excellent company when offered a suitable welcome. the ideal home is ideal throughout--outside as well as in. there is no vital difference between the kind of pride which demands clean linen and that which craves beautiful lawns (to be used however), beautiful flowers (also to be enjoyed), trees and porches for shade and rest. the kind of nature too which really rests and enthuses one is the kind which may be enjoyed for twelve months in the year; in other words, gardens, grounds, and trees which belong to the climate, to the locality, and, being hardy, commend themselves at all seasons. [illustration: even the most beautiful house must have a background to soften the conventional lines and areas of construction] [illustration: one should build a house as one builds a reputation, gradually, allowing ideals and execution to expand and develop together. then the house and grounds will appear at their best] but nature is no designer. the landscape gardener and the amateur must, by their united efforts, bring an artistic plan to bear upon nature's offerings, using her trees and flowers and the contour of the ground, and create an environment which pleases. the result should not only be fine of itself, but should furnish a proper and rich background for the house which is the centre. there are in existence numerous periodicals devoted to country living, farming, gardening, animals, sports, and the special suburban problem, and also a very distinguished library dealing with similar types. these have a surprisingly wide circulation, probably because they are as a class guiding the public taste in such matters instead of following it. this literature has in a few short years uncovered a new public interest in matters allied to nature, notably in home architecture and surroundings, and there is distinct evidence at the present time of improvement in architectural style. domestic buildings are more appropriate in material and design than ever before, and are such as seem to be in tune with the somewhat informal suburban or village surroundings. formerly architectural style was imported from abroad, and with it came a certain few odd fragments of landscape gardening, full of patterns, floral arabesques and geometric arrangements, imitation renaissance, urns and alert iron dogs to guard the dooryard. one can still find houses with ugly mansard roofs, stiff, forbidding doorways, and gloomy windows, the whole perched high on a hill, or at least elevated above the street, suggesting in every feature the barrenness of the artificial. it is art at its worst. the effort was further emphasized by the consistent designers through formal, wax-like landscape accessories, tender budding plants, cast-iron benches and garden ornaments, which must surely be blood kin to the modern steam radiator and art cook stove. there was nothing human about such a place: it always suggested the hereafter. but the new, healthy, public interests in outdoors, in a joyous life, have banished those artificial shells and substituted a type of dwelling which is planned for living. and the outside aspect of the house gives one the impression that it belongs to that particular spot, for those people for home purposes. of course all houses are not so successful, but one finds a good many nowadays. it was bound to come, because when people began to study nature, to live closer to their flowers and animals, to want green lawns and pleasant hills, they soon sought a type of shelter which would nestle close to the ground and look hospitable and inviting. architecture and gardening are more closely related than one would first imagine, and it is questionable whether one can deal successfully with one and ignore the other. [illustration: trees, shrubbery and lawn form the frame of the picture, and a bad frame will spoil the finest picture] [illustration: there was a time not long since, when people built houses according to style. they now build for pleasure and comfort, producing the finest style of all] in previous chapters the discussion of children and their training has touched lightly upon certain points which may well be elaborated a bit here. most of the child's waking hours would virtually be spent out of doors; no house is large enough. and it was urged that these intense outside activities would be excellent foci for most profitable study. no yard, however restricted, is too small to accommodate some hobby which will absorb the child's energy and aid in generating constructive skill and judgment. the matter of pocket money is also very important and becomes a powerful motive when properly used. but there is another and more mature point of view concerning the home as a whole, which should not be discarded. _every child should learn to so respect and value his own personal property and affairs that he will respect those of others, neighbors for instance._ he will not do this unless his own efforts and experiments are taken seriously, or unless his home grounds and living are maintained at top condition, or unless he grows to appreciate a beautiful physical environment. the lawn, the garden, poultry house and stable ought to be in perfect trim all the time. it is better taste to have them so, and it is good business. one cannot succeed with raising pets or animals in unsanitary quarters, or inadequate shelter. it will not be difficult to develop proper ideas of taste and charm in the grounds about the house if one begins with the boy's and girl's own business and steers that to a decent working basis. ragged grounds, unkempt lawns, weeds, littered porches and hopeless, tired-looking flowers--all persistent manifestations of neglect--leave on the youthful mind ineradicable impressions which undermine good taste. most boys and girls dislike any kind of work which is mere drudgery, and most children in these days shy at work for ends other than their own, because they have found that they can have privileges and amusements without responsibility or other return to their parents. the solution lies in the restoration to the boy of a feeling of personal responsibility and pride, restoring to him and his sister the rights of ownership to things and privileges earned, and make the children something other than social puppets. make their youthful occupations count. among those occupations one finds a number which are equally fascinating to both children and adults. [illustration: courtesy of miss annie washburn a school garden. if children cannot expand at home, the public school is under obligation to satisfy the need for outdoor occupation] [illustration: courtesy of prin. f. c. clifton a school garden. watchung school, montclair, n. j.] probably no accessory to the home is more to be valued than the garden, especially the flower garden. it adds so much of color and variety to the whole scheme, and helps to bring the house into intimate relation with the grounds. the finest gardening has probably been due to feminine influence, and every girl can draw from practical experience with growing things a delicacy of taste and wealth of knowledge to apply to ends peculiarly her own. the latent intuitive feminine outlook often remains undeveloped in these days, and no craft will preserve and stimulate it more than gardening. there is a reaction just now against the formal flower beds of tender plants, a patch of exotic color dotting otherwise irreproachable lawns, though the florist would like to keep such arrangements in fashion, for he is seldom a true artist. but better standards of living, a fresher study of nature, a more personal, intimate architecture, have brought into them many of the old garden ideals where the garden belonged to the mistress of the house and showed it. the garden has a most significant history. it has always been a centre of family life, and among the romans was in fact the element about which the household revolved. here the family rested and visited, worked and played. the dwelling was built around it, with living rooms which opened on its walks and fountains, bringing the family together in the most intimate way. the early dutch and english colonists brought to america a similar taste for this soothing adjunct to the home and early put into effect such garden plans as their limited resources permitted. and always it has been the women-folk of the community who have kept the garden alive with persistent belief in its harmonizing influence on the family. not infrequently the children learned their first lessons in business, in ownership and in responsibility, there. gardening is one of the oldest and simplest of crafts and may not be overlooked in seeking a pathway for youthful energy. perhaps the boy or girl would rather grow fruits or berries, vegetables, raise pigeons, keep bees--one and all are equally good. this is the essential fact: every boy and girl should come into direct and positive contact with some of the important natural phenomena and life. growing things have to be cared for, they must have food, water and protection. one cannot play with them when one feels like it; they need attention every day. the obligation is a pleasant one, but nevertheless it is an obligation and gives a much needed lesson in a way that sticks. any occupation around the home, if it be one which ministers either to the pleasure, comfort or profit of individual members, is quite likely to knit that family into a more compact group. it keeps the children more at home. the interchange of service and advice which brings into relief the interdependence of the individuals stimulates this one of the important characteristics of domestic society. there has been an indication in recent years to lay upon the schools the entire training for manhood and womanhood. it is expected to teach manners and ethics, to give the proper kind of academic information, to formulate character, to even teach "nature." it is impossible to do this. the finest character, habits of study, executive ability, and the social attitude must be started and nursed to strength, if not to maturity, at home. five hours each day under incomplete authority can accomplish little else than formal instruction. even the beginnings of technical and scientific training have their roots deep in these childish hobbies which originate and flourish at home, where a deep obligation rests upon parents to make the most of this early time. it is a lead the school can follow, but never originate. the school represents the average educational ideal of a given community, and when schools are inefficient, languish and give indifferent service, it is an excellent index of the local culture standard. therefore, when parents develop to their highest pitch the enthusiasms and abilities of childhood, when they foster family life and enrich it so that every member, particularly the younger ones, become active participants, and feel that they too have work to contribute to the general welfare, then and then only will the school by force of public sentiment revise its own standards. [illustration: there is a fascination about raising animals whether for sale or as pets. to the child this occupation acquires the dignity of a real business] [illustration: two more illustrations which will suggest plans for the future] for reasons such as these every home should be a kind of unofficial training school, in which the courses are mostly elective. some outdoor hobbies which the children will enjoy should be maintained, and, on however small a scale, the house and grounds should be planned with this in view. the city boy and girl will have somewhat limited choice, but even there one can enjoy several hobbies, even in a flat. one can at least grow things, for there are few corners, even in a city, so dark that some plants will not flourish. [illustration] chapter vi vacations, athletics, scouting, camping, photography [illustration: every child, and especially the boy, needs active outdoor exercise. this kind has much to recommend it] [illustration: organized play (woodcraft) under ernest thompson seton] the boy of to-day is at a real disadvantage in his struggle for health and happiness. he is always a primitive at heart, surging in the direction of direct physical expression, showing almost on the surface the simplicity of savage instincts, to live close to the earth, be outdoors, perform feats of strength and skill, hunt, fish, camp and play at doing the essential acts of life. through succeeding generations society has perfected a veneer of convention which glosses over the crudities of childish abandon, and as they (children) grow, the polish becomes thicker and more lasting, even so as to make the individual a "ready-to-wear" being. but at intervals, even in adults, one finds the periodic plunge into camp and field. that vacations do not always supply the benefit which doctors would, but cannot, is rather the fault of brevity than of the outings themselves. boys can, as a rule, enjoy vacations without responsibilities, they can have ample scope for the close acquaintanceship with the simplicities of outdoor living. one of the first true signs of summer is the tents and crude shelters in backyards of our suburban villages. it is the nearest approach to a normal, sane existence the child can make. no proper child omits to play "indian" or "hunter" in his early years, and no youth ever quite outgrows the keen pleasure of sleeping in the open, companioned by the sighing of the night. one recent experience of the writer, camping among the giant redwoods of california, where one could before going to sleep have a last look at the stars framed by the wondrous trees, and drift to unconsciousness to water music in the gorge way down below, was a time never to be forgotten. it is such experiences as these in the open which both keep and restore one's mental balance; they breed cheerfulness and optimism, develop friendships. and the boy is not so very particular about the place, provided there is water and woods, some companions, and things to do. he loves to swim and should learn. he wants to be of some account and have a part in the camp, learn how to make camp, protect things, prepare for weather, engineer the routine of camp life. probably no institution outside formal educational institutions is likely to have more vital influence on boys of the future than the boy scouts, already mentioned, a marvelous scheme to organize this play spirit. it takes hold of the most primitive instincts in child life, develops them to the highest pitch of efficiency, and turns the enormous energy generated thereby into useful channels by the simplest of devices--service. but be it noted, service for which the need is perfectly plain. the boy gets the finest of physical training imaginable and readily cultivates moral virtues which have been the despair of teachers and parents. [illustration: more woodcraft. has the boy had a chance at this kind of experience?] [illustration: even the technical processes of photography have been reduced to popular terms] [illustration: in these days photography has become so simplified that every child can use a camera to advantage] in general, the vacation cannot be more profitably spent elsewhere than outdoors. if a boy cannot actually go into the woods, away from home and the restrictions which modern living must of necessity impose, then the next best thing is pastime or amusement which requires outdoors for a setting. there is much to be said for each and every one of the sports common at the present time, baseball, tennis, football, golf, boating, riding--they are all good--and every healthy child will take part in one or more. now a book about sport can never teach a boy or girl how to become skilful; it cannot explain the mystery of the golf stroke or pitched curve, but it can and does awaken the spirit of trial and test. it suggests that there is possibly a right way to do things; to play even, if one would succeed. the book may tell of the necessity for team work and organization, for system and regular living, and observance of rules made by others. in other words, the book acts through suggestion, very seldom directly; and for the same reason that one gives children books on mechanics, sewing, pets and gardening, that they may learn of the dignity and worth of these occupations, so also does one recommend books of sport and games, which surely are the more valuable when taken in all seriousness. it is through their games, involving dependence upon the confidence in others, that children acquire the best traits of character. aside from the inherent return in physical well-being derived from amusement in the open air--one can use this kind of medicine twelve months in the year--such pastime possesses a second quality of no mean importance; it brings one, ofttimes unconsciously, into communication or hailing distance at least of that nature which is so charming. it is easy to see the beauties of birds and flowers and skies, in camp; and the dynamic loveliness of crisp fall weather, even in a great city, is evidenced out of doors by the animation of passersby. but one cannot read about the beauties of beneficent nature; one must enjoy them personally, and is led on to do so through those pastimes which take place in the open. several of these have been mentioned, and there is one other: photography. photography has almost ceased to be a science; it is a habit. one goes to the store, invests in a comfortably small parcel and a book of instructions which says "press here," and that is about all. the fine succeeding details are minor matters. whether one merely "presses the button" or goes the whole road and really makes the picture, photography has come to be a regular accessory to sport and enjoyment. no doubt it is evidence of human vanity, but it takes so mild a form and is the source of so much pleasure that the world needs it, to preserve the thousand and one scenes and incidents which comprise the background of life. [illustration] index symbols used *--illustrated a--outdoor work b--mechanics, indoors and out c--carpentry and woodwork d--home decoration e--electricity g--gardening h--housekeeping k--outdoor sports m--working in metals n--needlecraft index page accounts balancing, h - , charge accounts, h check book method, h credits, recording, h dairy accounts, a debit and credit, h department method of keeping, h - housekeeping, h - how to keep household accounts, by c. w. haskins, recommended, h personal expense account, specimen, h poultry raising, a , _see also_ allowances; income acorns, care of seed for planting, a aeronautics. _see_ aeroplanes; balloons; flying machines; kites aeroplanes, b - *, c - * balance problem, b biplane making toy model, c - * principle of construction, b - * bleriot monoplane, b - * engines, types used, b construction principles in general, b - controlling direction of, b - gyroscope principle applied, b making models, b - *, c - * management not difficult, b maxim's aero-curve, b - * monoplane making a model, b - , c - * principle of construction, b - *, - motive power for toy model, b - , c , - planes aspect ratio, b , shape of, b - propeller blades making for a model, b , c - * position on machine, b - santos dumont monoplane, b - * testing a model, b triplane, b voisin biplane, b - * why aeroplanes fly, b - , - wind velocity table, b wireless telegraph control a possibility, b _see also_ balloons; flying machines; kites ageratum, planting, g sowing and blossoming time, g agricultural clubs book about, a organizing, a - agricultural pests. _see_ insect pests agriculture. _see_ dairying; domestic animals; drainage; fertilizers and manures; flower gardening; forestry; fruit gardening; irrigation; soils; trees; vegetable gardening; vegetables alaska sable, skunk skin, a alcohol as a cleaning agent, h , , airships. _see_ aeroplanes; balloons alarm clocks, electric, e alfred, king story of the burned cakes, h algae. _see_ seaweed alligator wrench, making, m allowances how to manage, h alloys definition of, m almonds food value, h alternating currents. _see_ electric currents althea (rose of sharon) characteristics, g aluminum extraction from clay, e utensils advantages, h care of, h ammeter, e - * construction, e - how it measures electricity, e - , - shunt, use of, e - ampere, andre marie ampere's rule, e - amusements. _see_ games; sports andirons forging, m - * how to use, h andrew, saint story of the loaves and fishes, h anemometer making, c - anemone japanese, characteristics, g , wood anemone, g angora goat, a - book about, a animals feeding motherless animals, a tamed versus domesticated, k training, a - fear versus kindness, a - wild animals, a - _see also_ domestic animals; pets; also names of animals, e. g., birds, newts, toads, etc. annealing copper bowl, m definition of, m steel, m - tools for, m - * annuals (plants) blooming after frost, g climbing, g definition of, g for cut flowers: table, g for heavy soils: table, g for rocky places: table, g for sandy soils: table, g for shady places: table, g for sunny places: table, g fragrant: table, g self sowing, g value of, g , what to plant, g annunciators, electric, e - * antique furniture. _see_ furniture ants development from the egg, a - garden pest, g habits, k household pests, h anvil metal workers' tool, m * apartment houses heating by electricity, e how to have a play house in, h apiculture. _see_ bees apple distance to plant trees, g food value, h saving seeds from cider making, a surplus used for cider vinegar, a wood for canes, a applique embroidery, n - honiton lace, n leather, n , * overlaid work, n underlaid, n apricots, dried food value, h april birds, k blooming plants, g aprons, making, n - bands and strings, n - gathering, n - * sewing apron and work bag combined, n - * aquarium care of sick fish, k cost of ready-made boxes and globes, k feeding fish, k making a water-tight box, k - stocking a self-sustaining aquarium, k - what to keep in, k _see also_ gold fish arago, francois jean wave theory of light, e arbor vitæ characteristics, c arbors. _see_ pergola arbutus gathering and conserving, a arc lamp. _see_ electric lamp--arc archery practice of, k - architecture adapting the plan to the purpose, d , american city versus country homes, d - bungalow, plan and elevation, c * dining-room plan, d floor plan, d * hall plan, d kitchen plan, d living-room plan, d a model house, d - pantry plan, d plan in relation to decorations and furnishings, d - principles of design, d - , - wall areas, considering, d _see also_ building; carpentry; cottages; foundations; pergola archimedian screw, b - *, * armatures ammeter armature, e dynamo armature, e , - arrowhead (plant) characteristics, g art copyrighting works of art, b arthur, king the king's kitchen: story, h artichoke indoor planting time, g arts and crafts. _see_ basket making; bead work; block printing; brass work; copper work; embroidery; lace making; leather work; metal work; iron work; silver work; stenciling arum (plant) characteristics, g ash characteristics, c strength of wood, c ash tray copper work, m * ashes fertilizing value, a asparagus insect pests, g aspidistra indoor plant, g assisi, saint francis of, h association foot ball, k aster characteristics of new england aster, g half hardy plant, g sowing and blossoming time, g starting, g athletics all around athletic championship, k - best college record, k olympic games, events, k rowing record, k training rules, k - value of, k - atlantic cable laying, e - atmospheric pressure. _see_ barometer attic playhouse, h atwater, w. o. principles of nutrition; quotation, h auger bit, c * screw principle, b august blooming plants, g australian boomerang, b - * automobiles gasolene consumed per mile, b making frame for one and two cylinder motors, b - * making toy automobile, c - * aviation. _see_ aeroplanes axe selecting, k - azalea indoor plant, g b babylon proposed irrigation works, b baby's breath (plant) characteristics, g , bachelor's buttons. _see_ cornflower backing enamel definition, m bacon cuts, h food value, h , for basting meat, h bacteria in soils, g baden-powell, sir robert organizer of the boy scouts, k badminton (game), k bags braiding, n - * raffia hand bag, n - * stenciled, n * bait fish bait, k - _see also_ trapping baked beans food value, h baking cake, h principles and process, h - thickness of food, h baking powder composition and use, h how to retain strength of, e ball one old cat, k _see also_ base ball; basket ball; call ball; cricket; foot ball; hand ball; hand polo; hat ball; hockey; japanese fan ball; lacrosse; polo; push ball; racquets; roley boley; skittles; squash; tennis; tether ball; volley ball ball bearings principle of, b balloon vine characteristics, g balloons history, b - making paper balloons, b - * balsam characteristics, g , c gathering, a sowing and blossoming time, g baltimore belle, story of, n - baltimore oriole as insect destroyer, a bananas food value, h band saws. _see_ saws bandy (game), k bantams breeding and care, a - game bantams, a bar, horizontal making a pull up bar, c * bar pins silver metal work, m - * barberry characteristics, g picking, a - jelly, receipt, a , barometer complex, how to make, b - * construction of, b - * inventors of, b purpose of, b simple, how to make, b - theory of, b water barometer, how to make, b - * base ball, k - *, - art of playing, k - balls, standard, k base hit, k bases, k bats, k batsmen left-handed, k qualifications, k training, k batting, k captain's duties, k - catcher, k - diamond, k laying out, k - * doubtful balls, providing for, k "fan", k first baseman, k gate receipts, k ground rules, k home run, k innings, k choice of, by contesting team, k manager's duties, k methods, old and modern, k - national game of america, k nine, k , opponent's methods, learning, k outfielder, k - pitcher and pitching, k *, *, - positions, k , scores, k , - second baseman, k shoes, k short-stop, k signals, k team, how to organize, k third base, k training rules, k two-bagger, k umpire, k uniforms, k visiting teams, expenses, k what makes a game, k basket ball rules, k basket making materials for, n - porcupine quills for, a raffia work, n - , - * rattan basketry, n - * reed flower baskets, g - * sweet grass baskets, a bass bait for, k basse-taille definition, m basswood characteristics, c basting meat, h , basting stitches, n * bath tubs cleaning, h sanitation, h bathroom care and cleaning, h - baths electric shower baths in a summer camp, e - summer camp device, e - bats usefulness of, k batteries, electric. _see_ electric batteries bayberry description of bush, a dips, making, a - leaves for sachet, a baywood staining mahogany, c , d bead work, n - * chains, n - * curtains, n cushion covers, n - daisy chains, n - * loom, home-made, n - * portieres, n - purse, n - * stringing the beads, n beam action, c beams, wooden strength of materials, b bean bag rules of game, k beans bush beans, varieties, g experiments in growing, g - food value, h , , insect pests, g planting seeds depth and distance, g distance of drills apart, g eye downward, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g pole beans ornamental value, g varieties, g seeds age for planting, g germination per cent., g , germination time, g soil, g , _see also_ lima beans; string beans bearings anti-friction, b * beck-iron definition of, m bedbugs, h - bedell, frederick discovery that the same wire carries two currents, e bedroom atmosphere, h care of morning work, h - night preparation, h personal responsibility, h furnishings for a girl's room, h furniture, designs for, d - * guest room, h _see also_ beds; closets bedroom electric heater, e * bedroom slippers. _see_ slippers beds bough beds, k * camping outfits, k - * designs, d *, * doll's bed of pasteboard, and fittings, h - making fittings for a doll's bed, n - * making up a bed, h , - bed spread. _see_ counterpane bee balm (flower) habits and characteristics, g , bee-hive. _see_ bees bee-keepers association, value of, a bee stings prevention and cure, a - beech nuts characteristics, a gathering, a beef cuts and their uses, h - food value: table, h beef tea making, h bees, a - books about, a brood chamber, description, a *, what goes on in, a - buying, hints about, a - cost of colony, a development from the egg, a - diseases and enemies, a , egg-laying, a feeding, spring and fall, a hives arranging, a drone and queen trap at entrance, a * entrance to, a kinds, a , - , modern, a - * observation hive, a , k old-fashioned, a opening how to open, and remove frames, a - reasons for, a putting together, a supers, a * ventilation, a where to place, a - hiving, a - honey harvesting, a making, a - plants which supply, a supply for hives, a uses of, a honeycomb cells, a - how bees work, a - how to approach the hive, a italian, a keeping how to begin, a - supplies for first year, a - life, length of, a locating the hives, a - marketing the honey, a - nucleus, meaning, a observation hives, a , k * products of the hives, a - profit in, a - , - protecting from wind and sun, a - queen bee clipping wings, a locating, a rearing, a - testing, a runaway swarms, securing, a shipping, a smoking, a - success with bees: stories, a - swarm catcher, home-made, a - * swarming reasons for, a time and process, a - to prevent, a varieties, a wax making, a wintering, a - * worker bees, development of, a - beeswax for cleaning irons, h beetles development from the egg, a - extermination of pests, g , , , mounting specimens, a * beets boiling, g cooking preparation, h food value, h insect pests, g planting seeds, g depth and distance, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g germination time, g soil preparation, g transplanting, to avoid, g , begonias bedding plant, g window box plant, g bell, alexander graham inventor of the telephone, e bellflower habits and characteristics, g bellicent mother of gareth, h bellows blacksmith's, m * metal worker's, m * bells brass work, m - * _see also_ electric bells belt buckle copper work, m - * designs for, m * belt pin copper work, d * belts knotted raffia, n - irish crochet, n - * tooled leather, designs and process, d - * bench double seat for summer house, c - * riverside, b selection of wood for, c stationary outdoor bench, c - _see also_ settees bench hook making, c - bench stop, c bench work. _see_ carpentry; whittling berries food value, h picking, a - seasons, a washing, h _see also_ names of berries, e. g., raspberry; strawberry; thimbleberry; etc. bessemer steel. _see_ steel bethsaida story of the loaves and fishes, h bezel setting, m - *, *, bicycle sprocket wheel, b * biennials definition, g what and how to plant, g binding edges and seams, n * biplane construction, b - * making a toy model, c - * birch aspen leaved, c bark, removing, a - uses, a black or sweet birch, c blue or hornbeam, c gray, c kinds and characteristics, c - red, c staining mahogany color, d white, canoe, or paper birch, c yellow, c birds april birds, k attracting the birds, a - * bath, making, c * books about, a crows as pets, k eggs and nests, collecting, a enemies, a - , k flight, theory of, b - game preserve, creating, a - houses building, c - *, k - location, c suiting the birds, c supports for, c march birds, k may birds, k migration, k nesting time, k non-migrating, k protecting fruit from, a protection and care of, a - song birds, attracting, a - unlawful to cage, k that stay all winter, k traffic in skins, a - training, a - value as garden pest destroyers, g , a - bit and brace. _see_ carpentry and woodwork--tools bites of insects treatment of, h bittersweet, a black bass bait for, k blacksmithing, m - equipment, m fuel, m fullering, meaning, m iron used, m - tools, m , - *, , _see also_ forge; forging; horseshoeing; iron work; tempering; steel; welding blankets campers' outfit, k making for doll-bed, n * washing woollens, h , bleeding heart characteristics, g , blood root habits and characteristics, g blindman's buff (game), k block and tackle. _see_ pulleys block printing on fabrics designs and process, d - * laundering articles, d materials used for, blood stains removing, h blotting pads leather, design and making, d - * metal corners, making, m - * making and carving hand blotter, c - * blow pipe metal workers' tools, m * blowing engines diagonal catch and hand gear, b blue flag. _see_ iris blue printing leaves and flowers, a - bluebell characteristics, g blueberries burning over land, a , c canning factories, a picking, a varieties, a where found, a , c bluebird insect destroyer, a migration, k bluets, g bluing clothes, h , boards. _see_ lumber boat building, b - * carvel ribbon built boat, b centre line of shaft, b decks, b dimensions of the _mocking bird_, b * displacement, b exhaust pipe fitting up, b - pet-cock, b under water, b - expansion chamber, b floor boards, b keel block for, b laying and setting up, b - * keelson, b * knees, b "knock down" system, b , launching the boat, b , - laying off the profile, b lettering the name, b - materials and dimensions, b - * motor dimensions, b installing, b - * motor bed, fitting, b , offsets, table of, b patterns, buying, b plan and section of the _mocking bird_, b - * propeller shaft, installing, b section of launch, b * sections, spacing of, b - sheathing, b * skeleton, fitting posts together, b * steering gear, b * stem, b *, thwarts, b unloading materials, b - varnishing the boat, b _see also_ screw propeller boat house building, b - * covering the frame, b doors and windows, b foundation, b * frame, end and side, b - * pier, constructing, b , roof, b - slides or ways, b - boats fishing boats, fitting and cost, k _see also_ boat building; canoes and canoeing; launch; screw propeller bob sled, k * bob white migration, k planting seed birds, a bo-bo and the roast pig, h bobolink migration, k bog plants, g bohnenberger's machine, b * boiling meats and fish, h principle and process, h seasoning, h vegetables, h boiling point of liquids, h bolsters, h bolts forging, m - * book case designs, d *, *, *, c * "knock down" design and construction, d - * mission style, c staining the wood, d , with adjustable shelf, design and construction, c - * with glazed doors, design and construction, d - * _see also_ book rack book cover limp leather design and making, d - * book mark copper work, m * book rack copper work, m *, d * folding, designing and making, c - * wall rack, designing and making, c - *, d - * book shelves. _see_ book case; book rack book supports copper work, m *, d * books care of, h boomerang, australian making, b - * boone, daniel wilderness traveler, k bootees knitted, n - * bordeaux mixture receipt, g , uses, g , , boring. _see_ drilling and boring bossing up, m , botany collecting native plants in california, a - _see also_ flower gardening; flowers bottles killing bottle for insects, a - *, k *, washing, h boulder up (game), k boulders moving on rollers, b - * raising, b - * bow and arrow, k bowling lawn bowling, k bowls. _see_ brass work; copper work; metal work; pottery box elder characteristics, c box furniture, c - * box kite. _see_ kites box making design to resemble books, c * dovetail joints, c - * drawing instrument box, c * hinging a lid, c knife and fork box, c - * nail box, c - * pencil box, making and carving, c - * proportions, c seat and chest combined, c * simple box, c * toilet boxes, c - *, - * _see also_ copper work; inlaying; metal work; wood carving boy scouts of america, k - * activities, k ambulance badge, qualifications for, k aviator badge, qualifications for, k badges, k - bee-keeper's badge, qualifications for, k blacksmith's badge, qualifications for, k bugler's badge, qualifications for, k campaigning, k camps, routine and model programme, k - carpenter's badge, qualifications for, k clerk's badge, qualifications for, k cook's badge, qualifications for, k cyclist's badge, qualifications for, k dairyman's badge, qualifications for, k electrician's badge, qualifications for, k engineer's badge, qualifications for, k farmer's badge, qualifications for, k finances, k fireman's badge, qualifications for, k first aid to animals' badge, qualifications for, k first-class tests, k - founder of society, k gardener's badge, qualifications for, k handy man's badge, qualifications for, k headquarters, k horseman's badge, qualifications for, k interpreter's badge, qualifications for, k laws, k - leather workers' badge, qualifications for, k life saver's badge, qualifications for, k marksman's badge, qualifications for, k master-at-arms badge, qualifications for, k membership requirements, k - missioner's badge, qualifications for, k musician's badge, qualifications for, k oath, k official hand book, how to obtain, k origin, k pathfinder's badge, qualifications for, k patrols, forming, k , - photographer's badge, qualifications for, k pioneer's badge, qualifications for, k piper's badge, qualifications for, k plumber's badge, qualifications for, k poultry farmer's badge, qualifications for, k principles of good scouting, k printer's badge, qualifications for, k purpose, k salute and secret sign, k scout craft, k , scout master, qualifications and duties, k , - second-class tests, k sign posts for scout master, k - signaler's badge, qualifications for, k seaman's badge, qualifications for, k stalker's badge, qualifications for, k starman's badge, qualifications for, k surveyor's badge, qualifications for, k swimmer's badge, qualifications for, k tenderfoot, class requirements, k troop, organization, k - , - boys' clubs. _see_ clubs brace and bit. _see_ carpentry and woodwork--tools bracelets silver work, m - * bracket brass work, m - * iron work, m - * wood corner bracket, c * designs, c - * making, c braiding coronation braid daisy pattern, n - * what it is and how to sew it on, n - * fastening the ends of the braid, n flat braid, how to sew it on, n rugs and mats, n soutache braid, n stamping the design, n weaving four strands, n * how to begin, n - * joining a new strand, n , *, on frame, n - * six strands, n * braising, h brass cleaning, h , m coloring blue black, m coloring green, c composition and characteristics of, m tarnish, to prevent, m brass work, m - * bell and bracket, m - * bracket, m - * crumb tray and scraper, m - * finger bowl, m - * handles to vase, making, m soldering a vase, m tea caddy, m - * vase, m - * weighting a vase, m _see also_ copper work; metal work brazilian point lace, n * brazing metals, m - preparation of parts and process, m - value, m bread baking, h brown bread, food value, h camp cooking, k - curled bread for camping, e food value, h , , freshening dry bread, h ingredients, purpose of, h - kneading, h mixing, h raising, h setting, h unleavened, h yeast for, h - bread board making, c - * breakfast food food value, h left overs, h breeding purpose and standards, k skill in breeding dutch belted varieties, k _see also_ domestic animals; also names of animals, e. g., horse; poultry; swine etc. bridges building a foot bridge, b - * brier stitch. _see_ feather-stitching broilers. _see_ electric broilers; poultry raising broiling process and utensils, h - brooches silver work, m - * brooders making, k brook trout bait, k reclaiming a trout stream, a - broth. _see_ soups brother juniper's cooking: story, h brown bread combinations for food values, h brushes paint brushes, h stenciling brushes, n - * _see also_ commutators (electricity) brussels sprouts soil and planting, g - brussels stitch, n - * buckeye tree characteristics, c buckles belt buckles, making, m - *, * turn buckles, forging, m , - * buckthorn for hedges, g buckwheat cakes and sausage, food value, h food value, h budding plants, g - buffet design, d * building base boards, c batter boards, posts and sills setting, d cheap finishings, c chimneys, style of, c construction boat house details, b - * house details, d - * cornice detail, d * flashing chimneys, c interior finish details, d * joists, placing, b model house, d - rollers for moving heavy weights, b sills, setting, d - * walls, finishing, c woods and their uses, c working drawings for, d - _see also_ architecture; bird houses; boat building; boat house; carpentry; columns; doors; floors; foundations; house framing; joints; pergola; poultry house; summer house; strength of materials; windows; wood buildings wrecking, b - , bulbs (metal) forging iron bulbs, m - * bulbs (plant), g - california bulbs, collecting and cultivating, a - bedding plants, g , blue flowers, list, g colors, list, g - drying and storing, g easiest to grow, g flat for, making, g * forcing varieties, g insect pests, g outdoor planting, soil preparations, g planting, hints, g planting in lawns, g , a , potting for winter, soil and drainage, g red flowers, list, g resting time, g to prevent plants from blossoming low down, g transferring to light and heat, g , water bulbs, g care and development, g when to buy, g white flowers, list, g winter care of, g yellow flowers, list, g _see also_ canna; chinese lilies; crocus; hyacinths; narcissus; tulips bulgarian drawn work, n - * bull in the ring (game), k bungalow plan and elevation, c * bunsen burner, m * burdock class and seed time, g destroying, a distribution of seed, g bureau drawers arrangement and care of contents, h - doll's playhouse in, h burgees, b bur-marigold (beggarticks) class and seed time, g burned wood. _see_ pyrography burns care of, h burroughs, john love for birds, a butcher knife. _see_ knives butt joints, c * butter food value, h , how to judge butter, h butterflies breeding, a - classifying a collection, a collecting, a - *, k - series to illustrate development, a - time for, a development from the egg, a - killing bottle and how to use it, a - , k *, mounting a collection, a - *, k * net for catching, k * butterfly weed habits and characteristics, g , buttermilk cleansing properties, h butternut tree characteristics, a , c buttonball tree characteristics, c , g buttonholes, n - * cutting, n loops, making, n * stitch, n * tailor-made, n * thread for, n , buttonholing blanket stitch, n * finishing edge, n , hedebo embroidery, n - * honeycomb stitch, n * knotting thread, to avoid, n mount mellick, n padding, n - roman cut-work, n - * american stitch, n * european stitch, n - * scalloping, n * cutting out, n triangular buttonholing, n * _see also_ wallachian embroidery buttons sewing on, n - * buttonwood characteristics, c buying. _see_ marketing c cabbage bleaching heads, g cooking preparations, h family, g food value, h growing, g - harvesting, g indoor planting, g insect pests, g , planting seed depth and distance to plant, g early and late crops, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g savoy variety for poor soil, g seed germination per cent., g time required, g soil requirements, g , storing, g cabinet with drawers, making, c - * with shelves and glass doors, making, d - * _see also_ filing cabinet; medicine cabinet; tool cabinet cabinet work. _see_ carpentry and woodwork cables, submarine laying the atlantic cable, e - number in operation, e rates, e cactus use of pitch, a cahill, dr. inventor of telharmonium, e - cake baking, h freshening dry cake, h making, h - substituting lard for butter, h calcimine cleaning walls, h calendar back whittling, c * calendula sowing and blossoming time, g calf beef versus dairy feeding, a diseases, a fattening, a feeding, a - raising, a - teaching to drink, a training to lead, a , watering, a calfskin for leather work, n california bulbs collecting and growing, a - california poppies sowing and blossoming time, g calipers blacksmiths' tools, m call ball, k caloric theory of heat, e calves. _see_ calf cambium, a camelot, h , cameras kinds and cost, k - lenses, k camp stool making, c - * camphor for packing, h , camping beds, k - * blankets, k bough bed, k * boy scouts' camp, k - brush leanto, k * clothing, k - cooking, k - * bread, k - coffee, k fish, k , frying, k game, k , indian meal, k johnny cake, k left overs, k meat, time, k rice, k rules, k - utensils, k - vegetables, k , drainage problem, k electric lights, installation and cost, e - fireplaces, building, k - fires for cooking, k - * gypsy rig, k hunter's fire, k - lighting in the rain, k making, k - that will burn all night, k , * firewood, providing for, k - fitting up an old mill, e - food, care of, k - girl's work in, k - hints for comfort, k - locality, choosing, k - mosquitoes, protection from, k outfit, k - * ovens, k - * principles of, k - selecting a leader, k shower bath device, e * site, selecting, k - sleeping bag and head shelter, k * tents, k - * pegs, securing, k pitching, k - * sod cloth, k water supply device, k - * canadian pine, c candleberry, a - candles bayberry dips, a - shades, making from cardboard and paper, d * candlestick copper work, m - * pottery, designing, d - * spiral, iron work, m - * wrought iron, making, m - * candytuft annual, g characteristics, g , sowing and blossoming time, g cane rush, k canes woods used for, a - canna bedding plants, g planting bulbs, g , planting seeds, g canning and preserving elderberries, a canoe tilting (game), k canoeing, k - * accidents, avoiding, k girl's sports, k indian model canoe, k * paddling, k - sailing canoes, k - * canterbury bell biennial, g capstan, b , * car springs, b - * carafe washing, h carbohydrates effect of boiling processes, h food composition, h in vegetables, h proportion in diet, h , carbon bisulphide insecticide, g , carbon filaments. _see_ electric lamps--incandescent carbonic acid as leaf food, g - carbureter, b * card, leslie e. how i started with hens, a - card case making and embroidering, n - * tooled leather, design and making, d - * card tray copper work, d - * carpentry and woodwork beveling, c * gage device for, c bill of material, value in making, c *, board feet, estimating, c construction, c - curved rails, making, d curves, cutting with gouge, c - * cutting up old lumber, b - doweling, d dressing down lumber, c - , - estimating lumber, c - gaining-in shelves, d * glued-up work, joining, d - * gluing joints, d - *, - mitre joints, c - * process, c gouge work, c - * grooves chiseling, c - , cutting, c - * gouging, c - * joint edge, meaning, c joints. _see_ joints in main alphabet mathematics of woodwork, c - * mortise, cutting, d nails holding power, b - sinking, c * outdoor carpentry, c - * panels for desk, d - * for door, c - , - original purpose of, c - * planing, c , d - , position for planing, c surface planing and taking out wind, c use of shooting board, c * rabbeting, c - sand papering, d shop equipment, c - * grindstone, c - * lumber rack, c - * nail box and cabinet, c - * tool box, making, c - * tool chest and cabinet, making, c - work bench, types, c - * spokeshave work, examples, c *, *, * squaring up stock, c - , - * stock, selection and preparation, d - * systematic plan in working, d - testing grain of the wood for strength, c truing up, c - , d - * undercutting, c - * warping, to prevent, d * working face of lumber, c _see also_ building; doors; floors; house framing; joints; lumber; polishing; rustic furniture; stains and staining; strength of materials; whittling; windows; wood; wood finishing carpentry and woodwork--problems box furniture, c - * brackets, c - * bread board, c * camp stool, c - * chest and box seat combination, c * checkerboard, c - * clock cases, c - * coat hanger, c * couch hammock, c - * drawers, making, c - *, * drawing board, c *, foot stools, c - * mission style, c - * handles for hatchet and hammer, c * hinges, setting, c household utensils, c - , - * knife and fork box, c - * ladle, c * linen chest, c - * magazine rack, d *, - * mechanical drawing outfit, c - * medicine cabinet, c - * mitre box, c - * morris chair, d *, - nail boxes, c - * pen and ink trays, c - * pin tray, c * rustic furniture, d - * sugar scoop, c * toilet boxes, c - *, - * tool cases and chest, c - *, - tool rack, c * towel rack, c * towel roller, c - * umbrella stand, d - mission design, c * _see also_ bird house; book case; book rack; box making; building; chairs; desk; doors; floors; house framing; inlaying, wood; joints; mechanical drawing; mission furniture; pergola; picture frames and framing; plant stands; poultry house; settees; stains and staining; tables; tabourette; toy making; whittling; windows; wood; wood carving; wood finishing carpentry and woodwork--tools auger bit, c * bench hook, c - * bench stop, c bit and brace "chuck", c extension bit, c * ratchet attachment for corners, c types, c - * boring tools, c - * braces, making, c cases and cabinets, making, c - *, - * centre bit, c * chisels, socket and tang, c * clamps, devices for, c * coping saw, c * cutting tools, construction and action, c dowel bit, c draw knife, c * drill bits, c drills, c - * dulling edges on old lumber, b - files, kind and uses, c forstner bit, c * gimlet bit, c *, gouge, c - * hammers, c * hand screw, c - * using, c - * mallet, c * mitre box, c - * nail set, c * oil stone, c * planes, c - * pliers, c * quality, c rack, c * rules, c saw horse, making, c - * saws, c - * screw driver, c * screw driver bit, c sharpening, c - * shooting board how to make, c * how to use, c * spirit level, c * spokeshave, c square, steel, c *, m * surface plate, d template, c * vise, quick action, c * winding sticks, d * carpets cleaning, h storing, h _see also_ rugs carriages cleaning, a carrier pigeons, k carrot planting seed quantity to plant, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g germination period, g , soil for, g thinning plants, g varieties, g wild carrot, g , carving shelf fungi, a _see also_ wood carving case hardening, m - cast-iron brazing, m castors, acme pin, d cat characteristics, k - cat (game), k cat-stitch embroidery stitch, n * cat-tail characteristics, g catalpa characteristics, g ornamental value, g catbird insect destroyer, a migration, k caterpillars collecting specimens, a garden pests, g , , , cauliflower cooking, preparation for, h growing, g insect pests, g seed, germination per cent., g time to plant, g cavies care of pets, k - raising for pets, a varieties, k cedar red characteristics, c durability, c white, characteristics, c cedar bird migration, k cedar chest making, c - * ceiling as reflector, h care of, h decorations to correct defects of height, d celery blanching, g fertilizer for, g food value, h insect pests, g , planting plants, g - planting seeds, g indoor planting time, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g germination period, g soil for, g , substitutes for, in salad, h transplanting, g trenches for, g cellar, h - care of, h cleaning walls, h materials for floor and wall, h , must, preventing, h racks for barrels and pans, h rooms and equipment, h - ventilation, h windows, h cells. _see_ electric batteries cellular kites, making, c - * cement cellar walls, h coloring for pottery, d columns, building, c - dams, b - engraver's receipt, m floors, making, a foundations boat house, b house, c pergola, c - lining pond, g - mixing for floors and walks, a , b , , c , g portland, origin and uses, b - retaining walls, riverside, b - cement blocks making, b - cement furniture, d - * color for inlaid designs, d decoration, d * finishing coat, d scratch coat, making and laying, d wire forms for, making, d - cement walks floating operation, b jointing, b laying out, b - leveling, b * materials, b - , roots, danger from, b sides, making, b * tampers for, b trench digging and filling, b , - , centigrade scale, b centre punch. _see_ punch chafing dish, electric, e * chain-stitch crocheting, n * embroidery, n - * chains welding iron chains, m - * adding links, m _see also_ bead work; necklace chairs box furniture making, c - dining-room, design, d * duxbury design, d hall chair, design, d * kitchen furniture, h morris chair designs, d *, * making, d - * _see also_ bench making; settees chalk french chalk, h , lime composition, g chamber work, h - chamois gloves washing, h chamois skin for leather work, n champleve definition, m enameling, m chanterelles, mushrooms, a character influence of occupations on, a charcoal how made, m purifying qualities, h , charge accounts. _see_ accounts chasing metals definition of, m chassis. _see_ automobiles checkerboard designing and making, c - * table, making, c * woods to use, c - cheese food value, h chemical elements of food, h of the human body, h cherry tree characteristics of the wild or black variety, c seeds, care of, a wood for canes, a chest making a box seat combination, c * making a linen chest, c - * _see also_ tool boxes and chests chesterton, g. r. keeping good health: quotation, h chestnut characteristics of tree, c chinquapins, characteristics, a - cultivating, a disease, a durability of the wood, c food value, h grafting trees, a japanese, hardy variety, a varieties, a weevil, pest, a wood finish antique, c fuming, d chicken house. _see_ poultry houses chickens. _see_ poultry chickweed class and seed time, g chimney, house cold, meaning of, h fire, extinguishing, h "flashing", c _see also_ flues china aster characteristics, g chinese lilies water bulbs, g , chinese windlass, b chinquapin characteristics, a - weevils, pest, a chip carving. _see_ wood carving chisel cape chisel, making, m * cold chisel, hardening and tempering, m making, m *, * what used for, m * hot chisel making, m * what used for, m * metal work tool, m * sharpening, c - * silver work tool, making, m - * socket and tang, how to use, c - * stone chisel, forging, m - * wood chisel, forging, m - chlorinated soda ink stain remover, h chocolate food value, h christmas greens collecting and marketing, a - christmas tree harvesting, a oak trees transformed, a chrysanthemum back ground plants, g characteristics, g time of blooming, g chuck ribs, h cider wastefulness in making, a cigar box copper decorations, m *, cigar lighters, electric, e * circle how to draw, c - * citizenship training for, a - city water supply. _see_ water works city yard making and cost of a garden, g , - clamps, c * clams cooking, h food value, h testing, h washing, h clap boards for siding, c removing, b clarkia characteristics, g , claw tool making, m * clay. _see_ soils clay modeling. _see_ pottery cleaning delicate colors and textures, h restoring color taken out by an acid or alkali, h stains and spots on fabrics, h - woodwork, h _see also_ brass; carpets; curtains; embroidery; flues; furnace; furniture; house cleaning; matting; pictures; rugs; shades; tiles; vegetables; walls; vacuum cleaners cleft grafting. _see_ grafting clematis decorative value, g japanese, characteristics, g clippings making envelope file, n - * clocks cases, making, c - * clocks for cases, selecting, c electric clocks alarm clocks, e master clock, e - operation, e - program clocks, e self winding, e watchman's time detector, e * fastening the clock into the case, c * grandfather's clock, design and construction, c - * hall clock, design and construction, d - * wood finish, d mantel clock, design and construction, c - * mission style, design and construction, c - * pendulum clock case, design and construction, c - * pulley mechanism, b * wall clock, design and construction, c - * _see also_ watches cloisonne definition of, m enameling, m closets, clothes cleaning and care, h , window in, d closets, toilet cleaning bathroom toilet, h sanitary equipment and care of outdoor closets, h closing the house, h - clothes basket for laundry, h clothes-horse, h clothes line, care of, h clothes pins, care of, h clothes poles, h clothes press. _see_ closets, clothes clothing and dress art and fashions, d being well dressed, d - business women's attire, d camp outfit, k - care of importance, h in bureau drawers, h - in closets, h responsibility for, h children's attire, d color in, d decorative principles, d girl's equipment for outdoor sports, k - harmony and good lines, d proportion of income assigned for, h , , _see also_ dressmaking; sewing clouds cumulus, b formation, b - hail clouds, b clubs agricultural, organizing, a - garden club, g - outdoor club, a - science club, e sewing club, n wireless club, e - _see also_ boy scouts of america coal bituminous, value of, m estimating energy in, e specific gravity, b supply decreasing, e _see also_ fire making coasting, k luge-ing, k coat hangers making, c * cocklebur class and seed time, g cockroaches, h cocoa food value, h cocoanuts food value, h cocoon. _see_ silkworms codfish combinations for food value, h food value, h codling moth woodpecker enemy of, k coffee camp cooking, k coffee mill mechanical principle of, b - * coffee percolator, electric, e * coffee pots care of, h coffee stains, h coffee tree, kentucky characteristics, c cold chisel. _see_ chisel coldframe changing to a hotbed, g directions for making, g - * drilling the rows, g planning, g soil and location, g storage for endive, g transplanting from, g - coleus bedding plant, g collar metal work appliance, m collar, dress. _see_ dressmaking; irish crochet collar slides silver work, m - * collecting. _see_ insects; plants; seaweed; shells college athletics best records made in intercollegiate contests, k college education earning, a , color due to wave length, e in dress, d restoring to fabrics, h _see also_ floral decoration; house decoration colts. _see_ horses columbine habits and characteristics, g , columns, concrete constructing and setting for pergola, c - * combs silver work, m - * commutation (electricity) brushes, e principle of, e - compass use in drawing, c - compost. _see_ fertilizers and manures concrete. _see_ cement cones. _see_ pine conic sections describing, b * coniferous trees, c - conservation of natural resources conserving nature's crops, a - _see also_ forestry cook duties, h , cook book making from books and magazines, h cookery, h - camp cookery, k - * definition, h emergencies, h - freshening bread or cake, h left overs, utilizing, h , k mixtures, principles of, h - preparation of foods for, h - processes, h - purpose of, h sequence of work in getting a meal, h - soda, uses of, h substitutes for articles called for by receipts, h - sun as cook, h time tables, h - warming over food, h _see also_ baking; boiling; braising; bread; broiling; cake; canning and preserving; coffee; corn; desserts; diet; eggs; electric cooking; fireless cookers; fish; food; frying; game; meat; mushrooms; oysters; pastry; poultry; rice; roasting; shell fish; soups; stewing; tea; traveler's cooker; vegetables coons. _see_ raccoons copper work annealing, m ash tray, m * belt buckle, m - *, * belt pin, d * bill file, m - * book mark, m * book rack, m *, d * bowls, m - * chalice, m * loving cup, m nut set, m * shaping, m * box for jewels, m - * candlestick, m - * drip pan, m * night candle holder, m - * sconce, m - * shaping, m * card tray, d - * cedar chest, trimmings, m - * chalice, m - * cigar box decorations, m *, coloring, d , m , , corners, d * cutting heavy copper, m * desk set, m - * draw filing, m enameling on copper, d , facets, how made, m filing, m - * hammering, m - *, - *, * handles candlestick, m loving cup, m * making and riveting, m - making and soldering, m - hat pin, d - *, m - * soldering pin to head, m * hat pin holder, m - * hinges, m - *, - * ink well holder, m - * jars, m - *, - * jewel box, m - * hinges, m - * knobs on lids, m lamp, electric, m - * lamp shade framework, m - * setting glass, m - * letter opener, d * letter rack, d - * lids chalice, m - * ink well holder, m * jewel box, m - * rose jar, m tobacco jar, m - * loving cup, m - * match safe, m - * molds for, m - nut set, m - * nut spoon, m - * paper knife, d *, m - *, * turned handle, m * patina, imitation, m composition for, m pen tray, m - * polishing, m rose jar, m - * russian coffee pot, m * sawing, m - * sconce, m - * serving tray, m - * sheet copper, grades, m smoking set, m - * soldering handles, m - hat pin, m * spindle, m - * spoon for nut set, m - * teapot stand, d - * tobacco jar, m - * trays, m - *, - * ash tray, m * handles, making and riveting, m - pen tray, m * round, m - * serving tray, m - * smoking set, m - * square, m - * watch fob, d - * _see also_ brass work; metal work; silver work; tools copyright application items, b assigning rights, b directions for securing, b - duplicate certificates, b fees for recording, b issue of work, not limited, b invalid, when, b labels, b paintings, statues, etc., b penalties for breaking laws, b , projected work, b renewals, b term, b trade marks, b translation rights, b volumes and variations, b coral how coral is formed, g coral bells characteristics, g coral fungi, a coreopsis annual, g characteristics, g sowing and blossoming time, g corn contest in growing corn, g - cooking dried corn, a cultivation of soil, g drying, a - food value, h husking for cooking, h husks, uses of, a insect pests, g percentage of corn to cob, g points for judging, g planting seeds distance to plant, g , depth to plant, g , , , quantity to plant, g , time to plant, g planting varieties near together, g pollination, how plants are fertilized, g raising on a suburban lot, a seed age for planting, g book about, a germination per cent., g , selection, g - , , a - * soil required, g , stalk pith, use of, a corn meal food value, h cleansing property, h corned beef food value, h cornell university poultry course, a cornflower biennial, g characteristics, g , planting, g self-sowing, g sowing and blossoming time, g corning, w. o. experiment with raising goats, a - coronation braid how to braid, n - * cosmos characteristics, g sowing and blossoming time, g cost of living division of income, h - cottages building and furnishing a simple home, d - * cost of materials, d cotyledon seed nourishment, g couch cover weaving design, d - couch hammock, c - * couching embroidery stitches, n * counterpane making for doll-bed, n * counting-out rhymes, k country homes. _see_ cottages country life making the country a better place to live in, a - _see also_ camping; gardening; sports court, tennis, k cover for note book tooled leather, d - cows milking, a - by electricity, e profits in keeping cows, a - from one cow on a suburban lot, a - testing for milk supply, a _see also_ calf; milk crab (machine), b * crabapple, wild butter or sauce, a regions found, a crabs food value, h cooking soft shell crabs, h opening and cooking hard shells, h craigin, belle s. amateur's experience in poultry raising, a - cranks (machinery) crank motion, b * mechanism, b * cream. _see_ milk and cream cream of tartar uses, h credit. _see_ accounts creepers insect destroyers, a creosote wood preservative, c cricket, k - crocheting, n - * abbreviations for stitches, n chain stitch, n * crazy stitch, n cross stitch, n * doll's cap, n - doll's hug-me-tight, n - * double crochet, n * edging stitch loop, n * narrow, n * tiny edging, n * fringe, n hooks, n - * insertion stitch cone, n * loop, n * tiny insertion, n * insertion with ribbon, n * jacket, n - * shell stitch, n - * patterns, n - * position of hands, n * rainbow pattern, n - * scarf, cross stitch, n * shawl, rainbow pattern, n - * shells, n *, - * single crochet stitch, n *, * slip stitch, n slippers, n - * crazy stitch, n * star stitch, n - * star stitch, n *, * treble crochet, n * washing, n * crocus planting in lawns, a , planting tables, g , crops succession crops, g _see also_ gardening croquet, k golf-croquet, k _see also_ roque cross bow spring, b * cross stitch embroidery stitches, n - *, *, * marking towels, n crosses drawing designs, c *, greek, inlay design, c crowbars making, m * crows as pets, k crucible cast steel. _see_ steel crumb tray and scraper brass work, m - * crystals, snow, b * cuckoo insect eater, a cucumber food value, h how to peel, h indoor planting time, g insect pests, g origin of, g planting seed directions, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g thinning plants, g cucumber vine ornamental value, g cuff links metal work, m - * cuffs. _see_ dressmaking cumulus, b curling (game), k curling iron, electric, e * curtains dry cleaning, h dusting, h girl's room, furnishings, n - materials for stenciling, n stencil design, n * stenciling, d - * stretching, h valance, d washing, h - weaving, designs and materials, d - _see also_ block printing curves drawing, b * cushions. _see_ pillows cut worms, g detecting and destroying, g toads enemies of, k cyanide bottle for killing insects, a *, k cypress varieties and characteristics, c d dado joints, c *, daffodil narcissus family, g van sion variety, g white and yellow, planting table, g , dairy cow. _see_ cows dairy products food value, h _see also_ butter; milk dairying book about, a keeping accounts, a - sanitary milk pail, a * daisy characteristics of the english daisy, g class and seed time of ox-eyed and yellow, g embroidery stitches, n - * dampers in pipes and ovens, h principle of stoves and ranges, h - dams famous dams of concrete, b - dandelion class and seed time, g greens, a daphne characteristics, g darning limerick darning, lace stitches, n stockings, n - * dates food value, h day and night cause of, b debit. _see_ accounts decanter washing, h decoration and ornament woods suitable for, c _see also_ block printing; carving; embroidery; enamel and enameling; floral decoration; house decoration; leather work; metal work; pottery; pyrography; stenciling; wood carving decoration, interior. _see_ house decoration deer book about, a design. _see_ architecture; basket making; bead work; brass work; copper work; embroidery; furniture; house decoration; leather work; metal work; pottery; silver work; stenciling; wood carving desk library desk design, d * design and construction, d - * wood finish, d mission style writing desk, design, c * writing desk, design, d * desk pad copper fittings, making, m - * leather, design and making, d - * desk sets copper, m - * pen and ink trays, gouge work, c - * dessert combinations for food value, h deutzia characteristics, g devil's snuff box, a dibber, g * dies (metal work) making, m - diet carbohydrates, h - , chemical properties, h giving undue concern to, h - ideal, objection to, h principles of, h - proteins, h - , _see also_ food digestion. _see_ diet digitalis made from foxglove, a dining-room, h - care of, h , - furniture arrangement, d design, d - * ideal, h plan in the model house, d work, setting and serving the table, h - dirigible balloons, b dish washing cloths, care of, h decanters and bottles, h egg stains, removing, h glasses, h preparation of dishes, h process, h - rinsing dishes, h silver, h steel knives, h wiping and putting away, h , - without running water, h disinfectants use in plumbing, h ditch drains. _see_ drainage dividers (tools) forging, m - * using in metal working, m *, * diving, k * girls as divers, k dixie's land (game), k dock, yellow class and seed time, g dogs as friends, k bathing, k boarding dogs as a business, a - profits from, a breeds, k - farm dogs, a feeding, a , k puppies, a fleas, k , house, working drawing of a toy house, c * housing, k punishing, k raising, a - story of success in, a - selecting a pet, k - training, a - , k - for cattle herding, a , for hunting, k - for retrieving, a for running machinery, a - dog's tooth violet characteristics, g dogwood characteristics, c , g doilies irish crochet edge, n * doll's clothes cap crocheted, n - * knitted, n * cape, knitted, n * hug-me-tight, crocheted, n - * jacket, knitted, n - leggings, knitted, n * _see also_ dressmaking; sewing doll's furniture bed fittings, n - * cigar box trunk, h pasteboard box for bed, h , domestic animals books about, a raising, a - for pets, a - _see also_ cat; cow; dog; horse; pigeon; poultry; sheep; swine domestic economy. _see_ housekeeping door handles metal work, m , , * door hasp forging, m - * door knockers escutcheon plate, m *, - iron metal work, m - * door pulls metal work, m * doors batten door, c * electric door opener, e * frames, setting, c hanging, c inside trim, c * paneled, c - , - * saddles, c dough. _see_ bread; pastry dovetail joints, c *, *, - * dowel bit, c dowel for weaving, n dowel joints, c * doweling, d dracenas window box plant, g drafting. _see_ mechanical drawing dragon-flies habits, a drainage ditch building, g grading and digging, g pipe, depth laid, g problem for garden plot, g - "sighting" for drop and bed level, g - sloping land, g standing water, g stones for trough, setting, g tiles, laying, g types of drains, g wooden troughs, disadvantage of, g drainage, house. _see_ plumbing; refrigerator draught of open fires, h principle of stoves and ranges, h - draw knife, c * draw plate definition of, m drawer pulls metal work, m - * drawing designing a corner for stencil work, d designs for block printing, d - * how to enlarge or reduce a drawing, c , b outline drawing for stencil work, d _see also_ mechanical drawing drawing board making, c *, - * drawing instruments making a box for, c * making a mechanical drawing outfit, c - drawnwork, n - * all-over, n - * bulgarian weaving patterns, n - * butterfly pattern, n - * convent work, n - * daisy pattern, n * feather stitch, n * filling spaces, n frames for, n handkerchiefs, n - * maltese cross, n mexican, n * sheaf stitch, n * soaping threads, n twist stitch, n * _see also_ fagotting; hardanger embroidery; hemstitching dress. _see_ clothing and dress dresser. _see_ bureau dressmaking bands, cutting, n bias bands, cutting, n box plaits, n collars cutting, n fastening to waist, n cuffs cutting, n sewing on sleeves, n cutting from a pattern, n - * frills, cutting, n patterns allowing for seams, n cutting doll's skirt from, n * cutting from, n - drawing and cutting, n * notches and perforations, n pinning material on, n - * plaiting skirt, n - * seams, tailored, n skirts bands, n *, basting seams, n cutting from a pattern, n , - * hemming, n , plackets and gussets, n - *, plaiting, n - * putting on the bands, n sleeves cutting, n gathering, n * putting into waist, n * putting together, n * waists cutting, n cutting from pattern, n * joining seams, n _see also_ sewing driftwood gathering, a drilling and boring tools draw boring, c * drills for copper and silver, m * forging and tempering rock drills, m - * forging hand drills, m - * kinds and their uses, c - * driveways of ashes, g drowning method of rescue from, k dry cleaning delicate and light-colored articles, h duck on a rock (game), k ducks book about, a brooders, a characteristics, a feeding ducklings, a how to select for cooking, h marketing, a raising, a - ducks versus chickens, a - story of a boy's animal cage, a varieties, k water not essential for raising, a - wood ducks, domesticating, a * duplicating machine, b dusting bedroom, h floors, h house cleaning process, h little services, h opening the house, h dutch collar irish crochet, n - * dutch oven, k dyeing colors, how to obtain, d - hints, d - lace, n dynamometer, b * dynamos, e - alternating current, e - batteries replaced by, e - construction of a simple dynamo, e - * definition of, e efficiency, e - field, e , - generating electricity, e - how a dynamo generates both direct and alternating currents, e how used as a motor, e - installing, e load, e magneto, e - * illustration of use, e - rate of vibration, e - use for ringing telephone bells, e - * principle of a simple dynamo, e - * producing tones with, e - series wound, e * shunt wound, e * transmitters not power producers, e _see also_ armatures e earth attraction exerted by sun and moon, b - diameter, b distance from sun and moon, b - elements, b globular form proved, b - * rotation, b , eddy kites making, c * edging. _see_ crocheting; irish crochet edison, thomas a. discovery of carbon filaments, e new storage battery, e - eggplant cooking preparation, h parasites on, g planting seed, g indoor planting time, g time to plant, g seed, germination per cent., g soil for, g transplanting, g eggs cooking, preparation for, h ducks' eggs, a fancy breed eggs, a food value, h gold fish eggs, a guinea fowl, value of, a insect eggs, a judging freshness of, h marketing, a pheasant eggs, packing, a preserving for winter use, a - yolks in water, h record for laying hens, a selecting for sitting hens, a separating yolks from whites, h stains removing, h _see also_ poultry egyptian pyramids, b - elderberries canning, receipt, a picking, a steam pudding, receipt, a electric annunciators construction and operation, e - * electric apparatus and appliances using electricity to aid the memory, e - _see also_ armatures; clocks; dynamos; telegraph; telephone; vacuum cleaners; and words beginning electric electric armatures. _see_ armatures electric batteries cells, positive and negative plates, e , dry cells cost, e increase of voltage by increased resistance, e - structure, e - use for lighting a summer camp, e - * electrolytic cells, e - galvanic cells depolarizing agent, e effect of heat on chemical action, e electricity produced by chemical action, e polarization of, e - replaced by dynamos, e - simple cell, chemical action, e - sparking apparatus for a gasolene engine, e - * storage batteries, e - edison battery, construction and care, e - lead, construction and care of, e - why they run down, e - electric bells alternating current bells, e equipment and installation in a house, e - operated by induced current, e - operated by wireless outfit, e * operation of electric bells and buzzers, e - * transmitter in wireless telegraph, e electric buzzer operation, e - * used in electric organ, e - electric cars electric heaters, e _see also_ electric railroads electric central station, e - * electric cigar lighter, e * electric circuit breakers, e * electric circuits open and closed, e electric clocks. _see_ clocks electric conductors copper sulphate, e copper versus iron, e effect of impurities in water, e salt solution, e , water, e electric controllers arc lamp feed, e automatic air control, e principle of, e - * elevator switches, e principle of, e _see also_ electric rheostat electric cooking broilers, e * chafing dish, e * coffee percolator, e * fireless cooker, e - *, hot plate, e - * oven, e , - * toaster, e traveler's cooker, e * with incandescent lamps, e * electric curling iron, e * electric currents alternating definition, e for telephone bells, e generation of, e how produced, e - changing alternating to direct currents, e - chemical reaction produced by powerful currents, e - decomposition of water, e different currents pass through the same wire, e direct, definition of, e induced current by interrupting the circuit, e by moving the magnet, e - direction of, e experiments, e - magnetic field about, e * primary and secondary, in spark coils, e - * produced by chemical action, e - rectifiers, e - secondary, voltage, e - telephone, e electric engine principle of a toy engine, e * electric flash light, e - * electric flasher, e - * electric fuses, e * "blowing", e , electric gas lighter, e - * electric generators. _see_ dynamos electric heating apartments, e applications, e - bedroom heater, e * cars, e hot plates versus incandescent lamps, e pad, e principle of, e - * _see also_ electric cooking electric hot plate, e - * electric incubator, e electric induction coil illustration, e electric insulators and insulation, e glass knobs for telephone wires, e electric iron, e * principle and cost of using, e - electric lamps, arc arc lamp feed, e carbons, adjustment, e - * glass globes, economy of, e - mechanism, e - mercury vapor lamp, e - * moore light, e search light, e * stereopticon, e * electric lamps, incandescent burglar's flash light, e - * connecting lamps with the circuit, e * construction, e - * cooking with, e * current required, e filament carbon, e - life of, e - making of, e testing, e development of, e - * metal, e - platinum wire, e sizes, measuring, e hylo, use and cost of, e * intensity, comparison of, e - nernst lamps, e numbers manufactured, e operating by induced currents, e - * operating by wireless outfit, e resistance, e of lamps in parallel, e * socket, e * tungsten lamp, e *, , electric light percentage of waste in producing, e search light, e * electric light fixtures copper lamp, m - * design, d - * electric lighting cost, e , - , fitting up a summer camp, e - growth of demand for, e electric measurements units, e - * ampere, e kilowatt hour, e volt, e watt, e electric meters care when closing house, h reading, h _see also_ ammeter; voltmeter; wattmeter electric milking machine, e electric motors, e - acting as dynamo, e compared with dynamo, e - * e. m. f. in motors, e _see also_ electric controller electric organs, e , - *, - pipe organ, e - electric oven, e automatic control of temperature, e - * brick, construction, e - electric potential meaning of difference in potential, e - electric power conversion of steam into electric energy, e cost in large and small plants, e production of, e - electric power distribution cost, e distances, power and cost, e - loss in transmission, e , voltage in relation to distances, e electric power plants central stations, e - * equipping an amateur plant, e - estimating the capacity, e number and annual output in the united states, e water power for, e - electric pumps use of, e - electric push buttons, e - * for elevators, e - * house bells, e - electric railroads current controller, principle of, e toy operated by wireless outfit, e - * what moves the cars, e electric resistance impedance, e - laws for wires, e of electric lamps, e of lamps in parallel, e * ohmic resistance, e principle of electric heating and lighting, e - resistance board, e starting box, e , - * telephone circuit, e - unit, ohm, e - variation of heat with resistance, e wires, diameters and resistance, e electric rheostats, e - * _see also_ electric controller electric seal, a electric shock conditions necessary, e electric waves, e experiments with spark coil, e , - , - * how it feels, e - electric shower bath constructing, e - * electric soldering iron, e electric spark coil automobile spark coil, e * gasolene engine equipment, e - * how voltage is raised by the spark coil, e - jump spark coils, e make and break coils, e primary and secondary, e - principle, e - * telephone, e - * vibrator, e voltage, e wireless telegraph, e - * with two windings, e - * electric spinner, e * electric switches, e - * circuit breakers, e * double-pole, single throw, e * electric thermostat, e for brick oven, e - * electric toys engine, e * spinner, e * train operated by wireless, e - electric transformer construction, e - * illustration, e * magnetic circuit, e * relation of voltage to windings, e step-up and step-down transformer, e electric washing machine construction and use, e - * electric waves, e - changes in length, e hertzian waves, e electric welding, e - electric wires diameters, e - glass knobs for insulating, e ground wire for wireless telegraph, e resistance laws of, e tables, e - electric wiring use of earth circuit, e - electricity ampere's rule, e - chemical transformer, e doing chores with, e - * e. m. f., meaning, e electrical current compared with water current, e , - , every-day uses, list, e galvanic, e how electricity feels, e , medical use, e ohm's law, e - _see also_ induction (electricity); telegraph; telephone; wireless telegraph; also headings beginning electric and electro electrocution, e - of rats, e - * electrolysis of solutions, e - of water, e - electrolyte, e electrolytic actions in every-day life, e - electrolytic cell, e - electromagnet, e - applications of, e - * arc lamp control, e construction, e * discovery of, e , lifting power, e - , - magnetic intensity, e principle of, e - strength compared to bar magnets, e use in relay, e electrometallurgy separating iron from ore, e * electromotive force counter electromotive force in motors, e * electroplating, e - elevators electric controllers, operation of, e how annunciators are operated, e - * elijah and the widow's cruse of oil, h ellipse, drawing, b - *, c * string and pin method, c * trammel method, c * elm red or slippery elm, c rock or cork elm, c white or american, c embankments retaining wall for riverside, b - wall for lawn, g emblems bullion embroidery, n embossing iron, m embroidery, n - * bars, twisted and woven, n * blanket stitch, n * bullion stitch, n - * bullion work, n - butterfly pattern, drawnwork, n - * buttonhole and satin stitch design, n * buttonholing, n - *, - * card case, n - * cat stitch, n , * chain stitch, n - * cleaning washing, h , n - without washing, n collars, hedebo embroidery, n * combination stitch, n - * combinations of colors and stitches, d - compass design, n - couching stitch, n * cross stitch, n - *, *, * daisies, n , - * designs, planning, d drawnwork, n - * eyelet work, n - * fagotting, n - *, * feather-stitching, n - * flower work, n - * colors, n shading, n - stems, n french knots, n - * hardanger, n - * hedebo embroidery bars, n * circles, n - * materials for, n triangles, n * hemstitching, n - *, * herring-bone stitch, n * honeycomb stitch, n * hoops, n - ismet stitch, n * kensington stitch, n - * lace, embroidering on, n ladder stitch, n - * lazy-daisy stitch, n - * leaves, shading, n letters, n - * lingerie hats, n - long and short stitch, n * monograms, n - * needles, n outline stitch combination stitches, n - * rough and smooth, n * padding, n , - , - , picots, n *, * pin cushion top, n - * pyramid stitch, hardanger, n * ribbon work, n - * card case, n - * rococo, n - * roman cut work, n - * satin stitch, n - *, d design, n * scalloping, n - drawing scallops, n seeding, n * shadow embroidery, n - * silks, when not to use, n skeleton stitch, n smocking, n - * spider stitch, n stamping patterns, n - star patterns, hardanger, n * stem stitch, n substitute for, n * suggestions for a girl's room, n - threading the needle, n tools, n - turkish stitch, n * van dyke stitch, n * wallachian embroidery, n - * emergencies, housekeeping, h - enamel and enameling, m - backing, m basse-taille, m black spots, removing, m champleve method, m , characteristics of enamel, m cloisonne, m , finishing, m firing process, m - muffle furnace for, m on copper, d - on silver, d placing enamel on metal, m polishing, m preparing enamel, m tools, m unsoldering, m _see also_ wood finishing enamel ware kitchen utensils, h endive blanching, g planting and transplanting, g seed, time to plant, g winter culture, g engineering. _see_ mechanics engines external and internal combustion, b - , - , oscillating, b - * parallel motion, mechanism, b - * speed regulator, b * steam versus gas or oil, advantages, b _see also_ electric engines; electric motors; gasolene motors; horse power; steam engines; turbines english bind weed (morning glory) class and seed time, g engraving cement, m iron work, m ensigns, code, b , entomology. _see_ insects envelope for clippings making, n - * equestrian polo, k ermine, a escallops. _see_ scallops escutcheon plates, m *, - etching iron work, m ether (of space) chemical waves, effect of, e development of the universal ether idea, e - kinds of ether waves, e - medium for transmitting wave motions, e original meaning, e wave theory, exponents of, e - waves sent forth by halley's comet, e - evergreens, c - for hedge, g landscape gardening, g southern smilax, a _see also_ pine exercise value of, k - walking, k - exhibits, vegetables and flowers, g - flowers, arrangement, g labeling, g vegetables arrangement, g , preparation of, g eyelet work designs for, n *, *, - edges of, n lingerie hat, n * making eyelets, n - * padded eyelets, n * eyes and hooks sewing on, n - * f face plate definition of, m fagots collecting, a fagotting lace stitches, n * bermuda fagotting stitch, n - * fahrenheit scale, b fancy work. _see_ applique; basket making; bead work; braiding; crocheting; embroidery; hemstitching; knitting; lace making; needle work; also names of articles, e. g., pin case; sewing apron, etc. faraday, michael discovery of magneto-induction, e , theory of ether phenomena, e farm machines dog power for running, a farmers' bulletins how to secure, a farming. _see_ dairying; domestic animals; drainage; fertilizers and manures; flower gardening; forestry; fruit; gardening; irrigation; soils; trees; vegetable gardening; vegetables fashion. _see_ clothing and dress fat (game), k fats food composition and value, h , frying fats, h proportion in diet, h , feather race, k feather-stitching decorations in, n double stitch, n * marking with, n seaweed stitch, n * single stitch, n * threads, n * feathers goose, a - poultry, a feed rolls mechanism, b * fences. _see_ hedges fermentation principle of, a fern dish making pottery, d - * ferns care of, in house, g gathering, a , varieties to grow, g fertilization of plants, g - fertilizers and manures amount required for poor soil, g hen manure, a leaf mold, making, a - preparing manure for hotbeds, g sod for compost, g source of nitrogen, g wood ashes, a for strawberries, g _see also_ humus; lime; nitrates; phosphates; potash field athletics. _see_ track athletics field, cyrus, w. and the atlantic cable, e figs food value, h files and rasps, c draw filing in copper work, m metal work, m filing cabinet construction, c - * drawer designs to represent books, c * for drawings, making, c - filling. _see_ wood finishing finance. _see_ accounts; allowances; housekeeping; income finger bowls brass work, m - * use of, h finishing. _see_ wood finishing fir. _see_ balsam fire mystery of flame, h fire extinction burning grease, h chimneys, h fire making camp fires, k - for cooking, k - * coal fire, h - daily care, h laying and lighting, h furnace fires, h lighting a fire with kerosene, h open wood fires, h - _see also_ ranges fire of coal: story, h fire screen for metal work, m * fire tools making, m - * poker, forging, m * shovel, forging, m * stand for, making, m - tongs, making, m - * riveting, m _see also_ andirons firearms shot guns versus rifles for boys, k use of, k - * fireless cookers electric, e - *, fireplaces camp fireplaces, k - hearth, flue and draught, h - made of field rock, d * tiles, making, d - _see also_ andirons; fire tools fires damage from, c danger from oily cloths, h preventing forest fires, a - fireworks operated by wireless outfit, e - * firing pottery, d - * fish boiling, h whole, h broiling, h - cleaning, h to preserve heads and tails, h food value, h , combined with vegetables, h frying, k how to select for cooking, h pan fish, meaning, k protecting from natural enemies, a taming, a _see also_ brook trout; gold fish; shell fish; trout fish spears forging, m * fishing, k - * bait, k - * bait casting, k - boats, k fly casting, k , - * gaff, k game fish, k hooks, k - * landing nets, k * line winder, whittling, c * lines, selection and care, k , methods, k qualifications of a successful fisherman, k reels, k rods, selecting, k rules, k still fishing, k , - tackle, k - * time to fish, k trolling, k *, * fixtures. _see_ electric light fixtures flag (plant) characteristics of dwarf flag, g flags yacht signal code, b - flannels washing, h , flash light burglar's, e - * flat irons. _see_ electric iron fleece. _see_ goats; sheep flemish oak stain, d fletcher, horace theory of food chewing, k fleur-de-lis. _see_ iris flicker bird house for, c flies book about, a breeding places, a - danger to health, a development from the egg, a - exterminating, a - floating heart characteristics, g floors building estimating lumber for octagon or hexagon, c - for model house, d for summer house, c laying floors, c setting beams, c carpets versus rugs for, h cement floors for poultry house, a color scheme in house decoration, d cleaning appliances, h dusting, h finish for wood floor, h kitchen floors and floor coverings, h polishing, h refinishing, h waxed floors, polishing, h _see also_ carpets; matting; rugs; strength of materials; vacuum cleaner floral decoration backgrounds, d - color scheme, d - combinations, d dining table, d - garden method, d grouping, d holders and vases, d - * japanese idea, d principles of arrangement, d - wild flowers, decorative value, a flour cleansing qualities, h food value, h flower basket weaving, g - * flower embroidery. _see_ embroidery flower gardening, g - annuals, g - blooming after frost, g arrangement of plants, g background plants, g , , bedding plants, g biennials, g border plants, g , climbing annuals: table, g color scheme, g , cut flowers: tables, g , drills, making, g establishing a nursery business in california, a - formal garden border, g color scheme, g diagram of, g gradation of plants, g , staking plots and paths, g , straight lines in, g fragrant flowers: tables, g , girls' work, g - hardy and self-sowing plants, g - house plants, g - , h informal gardens, g insect pests, g , location of garden, g perennials, g - potted plants, g - drainage, g , - pests, remedy, g pots, cleaning, g potting process, g - soil, g , - transplanting, g - watering, g profit in selling flowers, g selling seeds, g - selling young plants, g - rock garden, g - round beds, making, g - school grounds, g - screening unsightly places, g selection of flowers for landscape effect, g self-sowing annuals: table, g shady places, annuals for: table, g slipping plants, g - soil, annuals that suit heavy or sandy soils, g - succession in bloom by months, g , time table, g topping plants, g _see also_ bulbs; gardening; vines; wild flower gardening; window boxes; also names of special flowers, e. g., chrysanthemum; larkspur; pansy flower missions, a flowers collections, labeling, k preparation and mounting, k cut flowers annuals for, g , care of, h honey or pollen producing, a jardiniere for, making, g - * pistils and stamens, g - propagating wild flowers, a protecting wild flowers, a - supplying city children with wild flowers, a water and bog plants, g _see also_ floral decoration; flower gardening; plants; wild flower gardening; window box; also names of special flowers, e. g., lily flues cleaning, h purpose of, h _see also_ chimney flux definition of, m iron and steel, m use of, in welding, m fly casting, k - * flying theory of, b - flying machines glider, b heavier than air and lighter than air types, b - _see also_ aeroplanes; balloons fobs. _see_ watch fobs foliage plants, g follow the leader (stump master), k food ash, meaning of, h carbohydrates, h combinations, h - condensed, harmful, h fats, h non-nourishing, value of, h pre-digested, harmful, h proportion of income to be used for food, h , protein, h refuse, meaning, h values, h - experiments of united states government, h variety essential, h , _see also_ cookery; diet; fish; fruit; marketing; meat; vegetables; also names of special foods, e. g., bread; macaroni, etc. football, k - *, - association or soccer, k , captain, k centre rush, qualifications, k , dangers of the game, k "down", k , , drop kick, k , ends, qualifications, k , field goal, k , full-back, qualifications, k , goals, choosing, k gridiron, k *, , half-back, qualifications, k , kicking off, k , line-up diagram, k , * players, weight and size, k playing the game, k - , positions of players, k , punt, k quarter-back, qualifications, k , rugby, k rules, k - rushing the ball, k "safety", k scores, k , - , scrimmage, k season, k shoes, k * signals, k - tackles, qualifications, k , team, organization, k - team work, k - touchdown, k , training, k uniform, k - *, foot bridge. _see_ bridge building foot pound, b foot stools designs and construction, c - * mission style, design, c - * forest fires damage from, c preventing, a - forestry book about, a conservation, c value of forests, c - waste timber problems, a _see also_ lumber and lumbering; trees; wood lots forge bellows, m * building fire in, m - construction, m draught systems, m - explosion, danger of, m portable forge, m - * draught system, m tuyere, m forget-me-not characteristics, g , forging bending, m bending corner in iron, m - * bolts, m - * butcher knife, m - * crow bar, m * dividers, pair of, m - * door hasp, m - * eccentric strap, m * fish-spear, m * fork, two pronged, m * garden hoe, m - * gate hooks, m - * grub hoe, m - * hand drills, m - * hand hammers, m - * harness hooks, m * heating steel, m hinge and butt, m - * ice-shaver, m * nail puller or claw tool, m * nuts, m - * oxidizing fire, m pipe method, m pitchfork, m * punching holes, m * reducing fire, m rock drills, m - * shackles, m - * sockets for wire ropes, m - * stake pin, m - * staples, m - * steel hook, m - * stone chisels and picks, m - * tongs, iron, m - * turn buckles, m - * upsetting bolts, m * definition, m rings, m wood chisel, m - wrenches of steel, m - * _see also_ blacksmithing; iron work; welding formal garden, g - , forsythia selection principles, g foundations boat house, b cellar, c concrete box mold for, c , * bracing, c * leveling, c pergola foundation, c - setting columns, c setting wooden frame, c , thickness of wall, c depth for houses, c - house building, d - * posts for small buildings, c setting, d - * setting and leveling, c - * four o'clock sowing and blossoming time, g fowl. _see_ poultry fox book about the silver fox, a foxglove biennial, g characteristics, g , , , digitalis made from, a sowing and blossoming time, g fragrant herbs and grasses, a frames. _see_ picture frames framing. _see_ house framing; picture frames francis of assisi, saint stories about, h franklin, benjamin kite flying, b fraternity pillows, n french chalk for dry cleaning, h , french hem, n french knots letter outlining, n needle for, n working, n * french seal, a fresnel, augustin jean theory of light wave, e fringe knotting fringe, n - * raffia, n frogs taming, a fruit food values, h selection of, for food, h washing, h _see also_ names of fruits, e. g., apple; grape; orange, etc. fruit trees budding, g - distance to plant, g protecting fruit from birds, a seeds versus grafting, g - _see also_ grafting frying fats for, h methods, h fuchsias bedding plants, g fuel blacksmith's fuels, m refuse timber, a _see also_ coal fulcrum principle of, b - * fullering. _see_ blacksmithing fumed oak and chestnut, process, d fungi shelf fungi, a _see also_ mushrooms fur dry cleaning, h packing, h _see also_ ermine; mink; mole; muskrat; rabbit; sable; seal; skins; skunk; weasel furnace draughts and dampers, h - gas and oil for heating steel, m house furnace, management and cleaning, h muffle furnace for enameling, m furniture antique mahogany table refinished, d - re-finishing, d - bedroom, d - * beds, designs, d *, * box furniture, making, c - * care of furniture and fittings, h - castors, acme pin, d concrete furniture, making, d - * covers for, h decorative value, d dining-room, d - * enameling white, d evolution of, c - hall furniture, d - * kitchen furniture, h - living room, d - * outdoor, c - *, d - * designing, principles of, d painted, cleaning, h polish, h , renovating, d - rustic, d - * woods for, a , k - selection for use and beauty, h - upholstered, cleaning, h , _see also_ book case; book rack; carpentry and woodwork--problems; chairs; desk; house decoration; stains and staining; tables; tabourette; wood; wood carving; wood finishing furrows. _see_ gardening fusee, principle of, b * fuses. _see_ electric fuses g gaging lumber, c , gaillardia characteristics, g , sowing and blossoming time, g gained or housed joints, c * galileo, galilei barometer invention, b galloway, beverly t. back yard swimming pool, a - galvani, luigi production of electric currents by chemical action, e galvanic electricity, e galvanized iron, e soldering, m galveston sea wall, b gambling in housekeeping expenditures, h game and game birds cooking in camp, k , creating a private game preserve, a - domesticating wild game, a - protecting, a wild rice food for, a _see also_ bantams; guinea fowl; pheasants games list of one hundred games, k - _see also_ archery; base ball; camping; canoeing; coasting; fishing; football; golf; hockey; hunting; skating; skiing; swimming; tennis; also names of games, e. g., croquet; marbles, etc. garbage can cleaning, h , location, h disposal of, h in country, h garden club election of officers, g exhibits, g - reports on garden plots secured, g - vote to aid oldfield centre school grounds, g vote to disbar girls, g garden hockey, k garden paths materials and making, g garden pests. _see_ insect pests gardening city back yard, g , - compost pile, g drills, making, g exhibits, g - furrows, making, g *, - hill, meaning of, g hoeing, g indoor experiments, g - money-making garden, g - selling garden fittings, g - plan, drawing, g - * paper plan for garden plots, g preparing new plot, g - pricking out plants, g raking, g rows, direction to plant, g rubbish, removing from new site, g site for a garden, choosing, g - sowing seeds, g spading, g - success, principles of, g succession crops, g thinning seedlings, g transplanting, g - , , - trenching, g - * work shop end of the garden, g - * _see also_ coldframe; drainage; fertilizers and manures; flower gardening; herbs; hotbeds; insect pests; landscape gardening; lawns; plant food; plants; school grounds; seeds; soils; vegetable gardening; vegetables; vines; weeds gardening--tools and appliances bulb flat, making, g * dibber, g * flower basket, weaving, g - * good versus poor tools, g - hoe, how to use, g labels for plants, making, g * measurements on tool handles, g plant jardiniere, g - * pot rest, g - * reel, making, g * sieve, making, g - spades, how to use, g stake, making, g * sundial, making, g - * gareth service in the king's kitchen, h garlic, wild class and seed time, g garret playhouse, h gas and oil engines compared with steam engines, b , e construction and fuel supply, b - cylinder, what takes place in, e water supply, quantity, b _see also_ gasolene motors gas furnace heating steel, m gas lighter, electric, e - * gas lighting average bill for careful families, h gas meters reading, h gas range baking bread in, h cleaning, h fire from fat, extinguishing, h lighting, h gasolene composition, b danger of explosion, b gasolene automobiles. _see_ automobiles gasolene launch. _see_ boat building; launch gasolene motors action, b automobile frames, construction, b - * carbureter, b * description and dimensions, b * exhaust pipe, b - , expansion chamber, b four-stroke cycle, b - * installing in launch, b - motive power, how obtained, b motor-cycle, principle, b - muffler, b - multiple cylinders, b petcock, b pipe joints, finishing, b power, developing, b - single cylinder, b , * sparking, b - electric equipment for, e - stationary foundations, b - location, b vibration, avoiding, b - stopping the engine, b suction and overflow pipes, b tank, setting, b testing new engine, b two-cylinder, b * two-stroke cycle, b vertical, b water jacket, b water supply, b - gate hooks forging, m - * gearing. _see_ mechanical movements geese book about, a breeds, a , k domesticating wild geese, a fattening for market, a feathers, plucking, a - feeding and caring for goslings, a food value, h how to select for cooking, h raising, a - setting eggs, a genista indoor plant, g georgia pine. _see_ pine geraniums bedding plant, g slipping, g - wild geranium, g window box plant, g germination of seeds. _see_ seeds gifts playthings outgrown, h spent in advance, offense of, h the tenth of your income, h gilding lettering name on boat, b gimlet bit, c *, ginger root use of, a girders, wooden strength of materials, b girls' clubs. _see_ clubs girls outdoor sports for, k - girl's room color scheme, n , , cretonne versus linen for furnishings, n curtains, n - stenciling furnishings, n wall decorations, n window seat, n girl's secret, g - glass cutting with a wheel cutter, d for lamp shade, m kitchen utensils, h leaded glass, soldering, d - * polishing, h washing, h glider flying machine, b glove box. _see_ boxes gloves cleaning chamois gloves, h glue preparing and using, c _see also_ carpentry gnomon making, b goat age, telling, a angora commercial value, a fleece, a , book about, a common goat, advantages of, a - feeding, a - housing, a , kid, care of, a market value, a milk, value, a products, a profit from, a - raising, a - experiment in new england, a - rate of increase, a selecting for a herd, a space needed, a , value in reclaiming land, a - water supply, a goat skin for leather work, n * godetia characteristics, g , , gold fish age, a book about, a characteristics, a color of young, a diseases, a eggs, care of, a enemies, a food, a , habits, a hospital, a making an aquarium, k - raising for profit, a - rearing tank, a , spawning pond, a storage tank, a training, a winter tank, a golden bell characteristics, g golden glow characteristics, g , golden oak finish, d golden seal value, a golf, k - *, - addressing, k * bogie score, k caddy, k clubs, k *, course, k , hole, k , links, k playing the game, k putting, k green, k , scoring, k , tee, k golf-croquet, k gong. _see_ brass work--bell gophers destroying, a gouge blacksmith's tool, m sharpening, c - * woodworker's tool, c - * governors (machinery) gyroscope governor, b * steam engine, b - *, grafting cleft grafting, g - improving stock, g - occupation for boys, a * scion and stock, g - season for, g tongue grafting, g wax making, g whip grafting, g - grain food value, h , _see also_ corn grandfather's clock making, c - * granite for roadway, g grape food value, h green grape jelly, receipt, a wild grapes picking, a jelly receipt, a grape juice book about, a food value, a making, a - grass seed kind for rapid growth, g preparing the soil, g - sowing, g grass stain removing, h grasses basketry uses, a grasshoppers distinguishing young from old, a garden pests, g grates. _see_ fireplaces gravel road beds, g _see also_ cement walks graver definition of, m gravitation definition, e laws of, b - principle of, b - gravity acceleration, meaning of, b force, meaning of, b specific gravity, meaning of, b - grease spots removing, h greek cross, c greens (cookery) dandelion greens, a greens, christmas, a - grinding machine edge runners or chasers for crushing, b * grindstones grinding tools with, c - * principle of, b types and uses, c * grosbeak, rose-breasted insect destroyer, a migration, k grounds. _see_ school grounds grouse book about, a guests entertainment of, h - guinea fowl book about, a characteristics, a , - eggs, value, a feeding, a marketing, a , raising, a - guinea pigs as pets, k making a house for, c - * raising for pets, a _see also_ cavies gum. _see_ spruce gum gum tree sweet gum, red gum, or liquid amber, c gun. _see_ firearms; rifles; shotgun gussets. _see_ sewing gymnastics outdoor life versus gymnastics, k pull up bar, making, c * gyroscope applied to aeroplanes, b bohnenberger's machine, b * construction of, b - * mechanism, b * h hab-enihan (game), k hacmatack, c hail formation, b - haley over (game), k halibut food value, h hall clock design and construction, d - * hall furniture, d - * halley's comet ether waves sent forth by, e - halley's thermometer, b halved joints, c * ham. _see_ pork hamburg steak, h hammer adze eye claw hammer, c * claw hammer, c * cross peen hammer, making, m - * hand hammer, m * handles, making, c * hard wood peg for copper work, m peen, m * planishing hammer, m * raising hammer, m * round peen hammer, making, m - * set hammer, m *, * shaping hammer, m * hammocks making couch hammocks, c - * hand ball, k hand polo, k hand tennis, k handkerchief drawnwork, n - * hemstitching, n - * rolling the edge, n * handkerchief box. _see_ boxes handles wooden, making, c * _see also_ copper work; metal work hands removing stains, h hardanger embroidery, n - * bars, weaving, n block stitch, n - * materials, n picots, n *, * pin cushion tops, n - * pyramid stitch, n * star pattern, n * hardening metals. _see_ steel hardie blacksmith tool, m * making, m * hardy plants meaning, g hare "varying" hare, a - hare and hounds, k harebell, carpathian characteristics, g harrowing, g harvesting nature's crops, a - haskins, charles waldo how to keep household accounts, recommended, h hat baby's buttoned hat, n - how to select a hat, d lingerie hat, n *, - raffia hats, n - for doll, n - hat ball, k hat pin copper work, d - *, m - hat pin holder copper work, m - * hatchet handle making, c * haws (fruit) location and uses, a hawthorne, nathaniel quotation, h hawthorne, english characteristics, g hayes, ruth success with chickens, a - hazel nut cultivating, a - for fence hedge, a gathering time, a pruning bushes, a health. _see_ hygiene hearth meaning, h heat british thermal unit, e - calorie and caloric, meaning, e generation, e - transmission by radiation, e waves length, e production and velocity, e - theory, e heating automatic control of temperature, e - * regulation by electric flasher, e - * _see also_ electric heating; fuel; furnace; steam radiators hedebo embroidery, n - * hedges hazel bush, a poplar versus evergreen, g shrubs for, g helianthus background plant, g sowing and blossoming time, g helicoptere flying machine, b heliotrope bedding plant, g characteristics of winter plant, g hellebore, white insecticide, g , hemlock characteristics, c hemming. _see_ sewing hemp ropes. _see_ ropes hemstitching double hemstitching, n * handkerchiefs, n - * padded, n - * hen coops. _see_ poultry hen manure. _see_ fertilizers and manures henry, joseph first to make electro-magnets, e hens. _see_ poultry hepatica blossoming time, g habits and characteristics, g , herbarium, k herbs bee balm, g for basket weaving and sachets, a in colonial gardens, g list of, g soil for, g uses, g hero engine, b * herring food value, h herring-bone embroidery stitch, n * hertz, heinrich discovery of electric waves, e hertzian waves, e hewitt, peter cooper inventor of mercury vapor lamp, e hexagon problem in estimating lumber for hexagon floor, c hickory characteristics, a - , c food value of nuts, h lumber value, a varieties, a hide and seek, k hides. _see_ skins high kick, k hinges copper or brass, metal work, m * copper or silver, metal work, m - * iron hinge and butt, making, m - * ornamental, making, m - * riveting, m * setting, c hives. _see_ bees hockey forward, k garden hockey, k goal tender, k ice hockey, k - *, lawn hockey, k "puck", k rink, k rules, k skates, cost, k * team, k , uniform, k , _see also_ curling hoe forging a garden hoe, m - * forging a grub hoe, m - * how to use, g - hog. _see_ swine hogan, clarence a. raising chickens, a hoisting machinery inclined plane, b - , lewis for lifting stones, b * lifting magnets, e - * screws, b - tongs for lifting stones, b * _see also_ capstan; pulleys; windlass holly care of trees, a characteristics, c wood, value, a wreaths, making and marketing, a - hollyhocks background plant, g characteristics, g , sowing and blossoming time, g home decoration. _see_ house decoration homemaking art of, h _see also_ housekeeping homing pigeons, k honey cooking with, a food value, h marketing, a plants which supply, a wholesomeness, a _see also_ bees honeysuckle decorative value, g honiton applique, n hood knitted, n - * hooke, robert wave theory of light, e hooker, ava a start with poultry, a - hooks centrifugal check hooks, b * forging gate hooks, m - * harness hooks, m * steel hook, m - * hooks and eyes, sewing on, n - * hoops, embroidery, n - hop hornbeam, or iron wood characteristics, c hop vine value, g hopover (game), k hopscotch, k hopper joints, c * horizontal bar making a pull up bar, c * horse book about, a raising colts, a - training, a - , horse chestnut, g horse power converting into kilowatts, b estimating, b - estimating energy in coal, e horsemanship, k - * bridle wise horse, k care of the horse, k girls as riders, k jumping fences, k * mounting, k - * packing a horse, k saddles, selecting, k - * selecting the horse, k styles of riding, k - horseshoeing, m - * heels, m making shoes, m - * mule shoes and horse shoes, m toe calk, m * hospitality. _see_ guests hot water bottle electric heating pad, e hotbed coldframe changed to, g directions for making, g - * preparing for winter, g , time to transfer plants, g ho-ti and the roast pig, h house cleaning, h - appliances for, h , order of work, h - principles, h repairs and renovations, h , small spaces, h unobtrusive methods, h weekly schedule, h woodwork, h _see also_ ceilings; cellar; curtains; floors; flues; furnace; furniture; garbage can; kitchen; lamps, oil; laundry work; matting; painting; paper-hanging; pictures; refrigerator; rugs; shades; tiles; vacuum cleaners; walls; windows house decoration ceilings, d correcting defects of height, d color scheme, d - harmony, d - interior woodwork, d southern and northern exposures, d - corrective for architectural defects, d - decorative fabrics, d - dutch room, suggestion, n experimenting, d - floors, color scheme, d , , french room, suggestions, n furniture arrangement, d - selection, d - modifying rules, d - overcrowding, d principles, d - re-decorating old houses, d relation to building plan, d - summer cottage suggestions, d ten commandments, d - use and beauty of possessions, h - walls, d , - stenciling, n window seats, n - _see also_ copper work; curtains; cushions; floral decoration; furniture; girl's room; leather work; metal work; pictures; portieres; pottery; stenciling; weaving house fly. _see_ flies house framing construction details, d - * drawings and instructions, c - * corner framing, c * corners, finishing poultry house, c * paper for siding, c siding cheap houses, c cottages and bungalows, c putting on weather boards, c tongue and groove boards for, c small and cheap houses, c - * studding for a boat house, b - * summer house construction, c - * window and door frames, setting, c house plans. _see_ architecture household pests, h - housekeeper effacement of, h - health of, h stories of inspiration, h - worries, h _see also_ house cleaning; housekeeping; servants housekeeping accounts, keeping, h - adjustment of work, h alleviations, h as a profession, h - bedroom work, h - closing the house marking wrapped articles, h meters, shutting off, h packing, h - repairing household appliances, h traps, care of, h daily work, h dignity of, h dining-room and pantry work, h , - emergencies, h - expenses, division of income, h - home training for, h inspiration, h - learning and helping, h - learning by observation, h menus and marketing, h - my heritage, h - objections to, h opening the house, unpacking, h playhouse, h - possessions, use and beauty, h - rest provisions, h schedules of work, h - school lessons helpful in, h servants, h - upstairs work, h - _see also_ cookery; food; furniture; house cleaning; house decoration; insect pests; ironing; kitchen; laundry; marketing; needle work; plumbing; receipts; servants; sewing house plants. _see_ plants huckleberries canning factories, a picking, a where and how they grow, a , c hudson seal, a hugo, victor his description of paris sewers mentioned, h humming birds taming, a humus soil composition, g , hunt the sheep, k hunting choosing companions, k training dogs for, k - _see also_ game and game birds; shooting huygens, christian wave theory of light, e hyacinth cone developer, g indoor planting, g , planting and blooming time, g , varieties, g , , water growing, g , hydrangea characteristics, g , hydro-electric stations in the united states, e - hygiene how to keep well, k - outdoor life, k - rules of health, k value of play, k , _see also_ athletics; exercise; walking hygrometer construction, b - * hylo electric lamps, e * hyperbola describing, b i i spy, k ice home-made, a - ice box. _see_ refrigerator ice hockey. _see_ hockey ice-shaver forging, m * incandescent lamps. _see_ electric lamps, incandescent inclined plane principle of, b - * rule for power, b income allowances, management of, h gifts, provisions for, h how to divide for family needs, h - increasing, ways to avoid, h management of, h - savings from, h uncertain, management of, h incubators, k - electric, e temperature regulator, e * indian bracelet making, m - * indian proverb about home making, h indian's plume (bee balm), g , induction (electricity) current induced by interrupting the circuit, e by moving the magnet, e - direction of induced currents, e experiments, e - human voice as interrupter, e - piano strings as interrupter, e telephone induction coil, e - * tuning fork as an interrupter, e wireless spark coil, e - * ink stains removing, h ink well holder copper work, m - * gouge work, c - * inky caps, mushrooms, a inlaying, metal, m inlaying, wood, c - * borders, designs and making, c - * buhlwork, c building up designs, c - *, *, * checkerboard, design and making, c - * curved designs, c gluing process, c marquetry work, c placing the design, c thickness of veneer, c woods suitable for, c inoculation of soil, g insect pests, g - , k - , h - ants, g asparagus beetle, remedy, g bean anthracnose, g bed bugs, h - book about, a cabbage worm, g , caterpillars, g , , , cauliflower lice and maggots, g celery caterpillar, g , chestnut weevil, a chicken lice, a , cockroaches, h cut worms, g , , destruction of, by birds and toads, a - , g - detecting, g - eggplants, g gnawing class, remedy, g - grasshoppers, g hornworm, g house plant pests, g household pests, h - leaf-hopper, g moths, prevention and extermination of, h plant lice, g , , potato bug, g , red spider, g rose slug, g , slugs, g , , , squash bug, g , , striped beetle, g , , , sucking class, g tomato worm, g water bugs, h _see also_ flies; insecticides; mosquitoes insecticides bordeaux mixture, g , kerosene emulsion, g paris green, g insects adult stage, a chrysalides, a , development, a - distinguishing young from old, a - egg stage, a habits, a - homes, a - injurious and helpful, k - larval stage, a life of a butterfly, a - pupa stage, a _see also_ ants; beetles; butterflies; dragon-flies; grasshoppers; moths; silkworms; spiders; wasps insects--collecting and preserving baiting moths, a - , k - sugar receipt, a , k books about, a breeding cage, making, a - * cases for preserving, a , *, , c - cornstalk pith for lining, a classifying, a - egg shell, mounting, a eggs of butterflies, a filing cabinet, making, c - killing bottle, making and using a cyanide bottle, a - *, , k - * mounting, a - *, k * net making, a - * outfit, a , k pinning butterflies and beetles, a - * pins for mounting, a spreading board, a * times and localities for collecting, a - insertion. _see_ crocheting instruments. _see_ tools insulation. _see_ electric insulators and insulation insurance. _see_ life insurance intercollegiate amateur athletic association of america best records, k events contested for, k rowing record, k interior decoration. _see_ house decoration invalid tray preparing, h - inventions ancient and modern, b - _see also_ aeroplanes; matches; typewriters; wireless telegraph; and words beginning electric iris blue flag, g border plant, g dwarf, characteristics, g , english, planting and blooming time, g german, characteristics, g japanese, characteristics, g spanish, planting and blooming time, g varieties, g irish crochet, n - * baby irish pattern, n - * belt, n - * doily with edge, n * dutch collar, n - * edging, n - * grapes, n jabot, n - * leaves, n materials, n motifs, joining, n rose, n - , shamrock, n tie rose, n - * wheel pattern with rose and straps of shamrock n - * irish stew; story, h iron galvanized incorrectly named, e soldering, m magnetic properties, e oxidation, preventing, m pig iron, m stretching processes, m wrought iron, m - iron work bending corner, m - * bracket, making, m - * bulbs, making, m - * candlestick, making, m - * spiral, m - * chains, welding, m - * decorative forgings, suggestions, d handles, m hinge, making, m * hinge and butt, making, m - * kettle stand, making, m - * lamp holder for, m lamp, making, m - * holder, m shade and holder, m - punching holes in, m * rings, welding, m - *, * spirals, making, m tongs, forging, m - * twists, m braided strand, m umbrella stand, m wrench, forging, m * _see also_ andirons; blacksmithing; fire tools; welding ironing bed linen, h board for, h clothes-horse for, h electric irons for, e - , * embroidery, h iron, care and use, h iron holders, h iron-stand, h lace, h process, h - scorched places, h starch sticking, to prevent, h table linen, h wax, cloths and paper, h ironwood characteristics, c irrigation book about, a chinese treadmill device, b * persian wheel device, b * j jabot irish crochet, n - * jack fagots, k jack-in-the-pulpit description of, g jacket. _see_ crocheting jai-a-li (pelota), k jam thimbleberry, a japan barberry hedge shrub, g japan quince hedge shrub, g japanese clematis characteristics, g japanese fan ball, k japanese hop characteristics, g japanese snow flower characteristics, g japanese snowball characteristics, g jardiniere. _see_ plant stand jelly barberry jelly, a green grape jelly, a jerusalem cherry tree, indoor plant, g jew fish catching, k jewel box copper work, m - * jeweler's tools. _see_ tools jewelry. _see_ silver work joe pye weed habits and characteristics, g story of name, g johnny cake camp cooking, k joints butt, c * clamping mitre joints, d * dado, c *, * dovetail blind, c * box, c *, * half-blind, c * lap, c * single, c - * single open, c * doweled, d *, c gained or housed, c * gluing, d - *, - * mitre joints, c - halved, c * lap joint, d * hopper, c * joint edge, definition of, c kinds and construction, d - *, - * lap, c , *, * lock, c * mitre, c - *, d - * lap, c * mortise and tenon, c *, d *, * blind, c * draw boring, c end, c * relished, c * through, c * notched, c * rabbeted, c * rubbed joint, c * splice or scarf, c * stretcher, c * tongue and groove, c * trick, c * jonquil narcissus family, c planting and blooming time, g july blooming plants, g june blooming plants, g k kale planting and care, g time to plant, g keel. _see_ boat building kelvin, lord and the atlantic cable, e kennels. _see_ dogs kensington stitch flower embroidery, n - * kentucky coffee tree, c kerosene cleaning woodwork, h , lighting fires with, h kerosene emulsion insecticide, g , receipt, g , key rack carving design, c whittling, c - * key tag whittling, c * kick the stick (game), k kiln lumber kiln method, c - portable pottery kiln, d - * kilowatt converting into h. p. b., b hour, e kindling wood cutting and collecting as a business, a - king alfred. _see_ alfred, king kingbird insect eater, a , migration, k king of the castle (game), k kitchen chairs, h cleaning weekly, h clock, h curtains, h floors, h - furnishings, h - hooks, h house plan, d light fixtures, h ornament, h rugs, h shelves, h sink, h size, h tables, h walls and woodwork, h _see also_ ranges kitchen utensils, h - aluminum, advantages and care, h , bread board, making, c - * care of, h materials, h selection, h , sugar scoop and ladle, making, c * _see also_ soldering kites, b - aeroplane kite, making, c - * american malay launching, c making, c * box kites launching, b , c making, b - * bridle, fastening, c *, * cellular, making, b - *, c - * chinese, designs, c coverings, importance of, c detail drawings, c * eddy kite, making, c * flying, c - principle of, b - * groups, flying, b *, c joining sticks, c - , * lines, c making, b - , c - * materials, c , , photographing by means of, b record flight, b - reels for, c sails, c shape, b stability, principle of, c tailless, c - tails, principle of, b tandem, c * tetrahedral, making, c - * war kites, making, b * wind velocity table, b knife. _see_ knives knife box making, c - * knife work. _see_ whittling; wood carving knights of the round table. _see_ round table knitting, n - * baby hood, n - * baby vest, n basket stitch, n * bootees, n - * doll's cap, n * doll's cape, n * doll's jacket, n - * doll's leggings, n * german method, n * lace pine pattern, n - materials for, n patterns, n - * shawl finishing edge, n long, n - wide, n , stitches basket stitch, n * binding off, n - casting off, n - casting on, n * popcorn, n * purling, n * washing, n widening the row, n knives butcher knife, forging, m - * steel, washing, h whittling, c * knot holes how made, a knots raffia knotting, n - * silk, cotton, or linen, n - _see also_ sewing knuckle of veal, h kodak, k kohlrabi planting and care, g l labeling. _see_ insects--collections; plants--collections; shells labels for plant markers, making, g * lace and lace making, n - * basting braid, n , brussels stitch, single and double, n , * buttonholed bar, n * connemara lace, n - * dyeing lace, h , n edge finishing, n fan stitch, n * fagotting, n * foundation stitch, mesh or net, n honiton applique, n braids for, n - irish crochet lace, n - * knitted lace, pine pattern, n - limerick darning, n maltese cross, design, n * over handing on, n * point lace, n brazilian, n - * renaissance, n rolling and whip stitching on, n spider stitch, n - * teneriffe or brazilian point, n - * twisted bar stitch, n *, washing, h whitening, h lacquer for brass, m lacrosse, k ladder stitch, n - lady bug, value to farmers, k lakes tides, b lamb cuts and their uses, h food value combinations, h table, h _see also_ sheep lamp copper work, electric lamp, m - * steel base, making, m - * wrought iron making, m - * shade holder, m lamp, oil care of, h trimming wicks, h lamp shade copper work, m - * glass for, m _see also_ candle shade land drainage. _see_ drainage landscape gardening, g - formal gardens, g flower gardens, g - garden furnishings, g hedges, g helping nature, g lawns flowers, what and where to plant, g treatment of, g points to observe, g - principles of, g purpose, g screening unsightly places, g shrubs grouping, g - selection principle, g table of, g - summer house, location, g trees, selection and grouping, g - , vines, g water garden, g wild flower garden, g _see also_ flower gardening; gardening; shrubs; trees lantern metal work, m - * lantern wheel, b * lap joints, c , * laplace, pierre simon corpuscular theory of light, e larch characteristics, c larkspur background plant, g characteristics, g oriental, characteristics, g , sowing and blossoming time, g , varieties, g , larva. _see_ insects last tag (game), k lathe tools making, m - * lattice work, d - * launch launching the boat, b , - rules for running, b - _see also_ boat building; gasolene motors laundry work appliances, h - blankets, h , bluing, h , removing, h boiling clothes, h chamois gloves, h clothes basket, h clothes line, care of, h clothes pins, care of, h colored clothes, h curtains, h - economizing, h electric washing machinery, e - * embroidery, h , n - emergencies, h - freezing weather, h hanging out clothes, h , knitting and crochet work, n lace, h muddy water, h poles for, h rinsing clothes, h schedule for wash days, h silk clothes, h soaking clothes, h soap, h soiled clothes, care of, h sorting clothes, h sprinkling and folding clothes, h - starch, h starching clothes, h stormy days, h stove, h tubs, care of, h wash board, h wash boiler, care of, h wash stick, h washing process, h - white clothes, h woolens, h wringer, h _see also_ ironing lavender growing, g lavender stick making, a - * lawn bowling, k lawn bowls, k lawn hockey, k lawn mower care of, a - lawn skittles, k - lawn tennis. _see_ tennis lawns crocuses in, a , embankment wall, making, g flowers in, what and where to plant, g grading, g landscape gardening, g mowing, a - rolling, g layering plants, g laying the table. _see_ setting the table lazy tongs, b * lead bath to prevent steel oxidation, m , soldering, m leaded glass cutting and soldering, d - * leaf hopper, g leaf mold making, a - leaks. _see_ plumbing leap frog, k spanish fly, k leather work, d - *, n - * applique, n , * applying designs, n - articles made from, list, n belt designs and tooling, d - * book cover, d - * card case, d - * cover for note book, d - * cutting, n , dampening for tracing, n decoration, principles of, d designing, n desk pad, d - * knots, d * lining articles, d , mat, design and tooling, d - * paste, receipt for, n , , pasting, n , pen wiper, designs and tooling, d - * planning a skin, n * polishing, n purse, d - * skins suitable for, d , n - *, stitching by hand, d - * tinting, n tooled leather, n - * embossing with die n * paste, receipt for, n , polishing, n process, d - *, n - relief work, d *, n - * filling with paste, n russia calf for, n tools, d - *, n *, * tracing the design, n , leaves blue printing, a giving off water, g simple, compound and doubly compound, c * leek germination per cent., g left overs utilizing, h legumes value as plant food, g lemon lily characteristics, g lemon tree, ponderosa, g lemons food value, h preserving in water, h removing stains with, h letter copying devices, b letter opener copper work, d * letter rack carving, c - * copper work, d - * two compartments, making and carving, c - * lettering. _see_ gilding letters. _see_ embroidery lettuce cabbage lettuce, g cos lettuce, g food value, h going to seed, g head lettuce, g planting seed depth to plant, g , distance to plant, g how to sow the seed, g indoor planting time, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g germination period, g succession crops, g transplanting, g lever arms, b * double, b - lazy tongs, b * principle of, b - * rule for power, b library tables. _see_ tables lice cauliflower pests, g chicken lice, a powder receipt, a , k plant lice, g life insurance advantages and disadvantages for saving, h lifting machinery. _see_ hoisting machinery light ancient theory of, e color dependent upon wave length, e electro-magnetic theory, e emission theory, e a form of vibration, e theories held by eminent scientists, e - velocity, b - , e waves, e length of, b , e lighting economizing bills, h reading meters, h - * _see also_ electric lighting; gas lighting lightning arrester, e * weather symbol, b why lightning is seen before thunder is heard, b lilac characteristics, g lily red speciosum, planting and blooming time, g white day lily, g lily-of-the-valley characteristics, g false, g lima bean food value, h planting, g lime disinfectant, h protecting vines from insects, g _see also_ soil limerick darning, n limestone formation of, g road material, g linden characteristics, c , g linen. _see_ doilies; ironing; table linen linen chest making, c - * lingerie hat eyelet work, n * making and trimming, n - links. _see_ chains; cuff links linoleum care of, h liquids boiling point, h living expenses. _see_ housekeeping living-room furniture, d - * arrangement, d loam meaning of, g loaves and fishes: story, h lobster boiled, h color, h food value, h lock joints, c * lockjaw cause and prevention, b - locks escutcheon plates, making, m - * _see also_ door hasp locomotives boilers, b link motion valve gear, b locust durability of black locust wood, c varieties and characteristics, c , g log cabin woods for making, k lombardy poplar, g , looms. _see_ bead work; weaving loops for buttonholes, n * lotus, american characteristics, g luge-ing (game), k lumber and lumbering "boom", c clear lumber, c curls or eyes, how made, a cutting logs, k defects, detecting, c - drive, c drying, c estimating, problems in, c - kiln-dried, c , d - knot holes, how made, a knots versus strength, c length, standard, c log jams, c measuring, c old method of sawing, c * plain sawed, d * quarter-sawed, d * railroad consumption, c saw mills, c seasoning, c - , d shakes, c shearing, c shrinkage, principle of, c - thickness, standard, c volume of business in united states, c warping, principle of, c * waste in cutting, c waste in saw mills, c - winding lumber, c _see also_ forestry; trees; wood lumber rack making, c - * luncheon: story, h m macaroni food value, h mccray, arthur h. profits of bee-keeping, a - machine shop equipping to run by electric power, e , - machinery. _see_ capstan; engines; gas and oil engines; gasolene motors; locomotives; mechanical movements; motorcycles; sewing machines; steam engine; tools; typewriters; water wheels; wheels; windmills mcintyre, flora how i earned two hundred dollars, a - mackerel food value, h madeira embroidery. _see_ eyelet work magazine cover tooled, n * magazine rack design, d * and construction, d - * wood finish, d maggots garden pests, g magic lantern. _see_ stereopticon magnesia cleaning properties, h magnet earth as a magnet, e iron, e - poles, e * steel, how to retain magnetism, e _see also_ electro-magnet magnetic field, e about electric currents, e * dynamo, e , - effect upon a magnet, e * magnetos. _see_ dynamos mahogany imitation stain, c , d maids. _see_ servants mallet carpenter's tool, c * metal worker's tool, m * maltese cross drawing, c * lace making pattern, n * mandrake. _see_ may apple mandrel, m *, manifolding devices, b , manures. _see_ fertilizers maple box elder or ash-leaved maple, c characteristics, c moose wood, c mountain, c norway maple, g qualities of, g red or swamp maple, c , g seeds, value of, a silver, white, or soft maple, c sugar or rock maple, c , g sycamore, c maple sugar and syrup boiling down, a bonbons, a - books about, a colors, changes in, a food value, h identifying trees, a proportion of syrup to sugar, a sap care when running, a ingredients, a states that have sugar trees, a straining, a sugar making, c equipment and preparation, a indian methods, a primitive and modern methods, a - tapping trees, a - testing when boiling, a weather for making, a marathon race championship, k marble composition, g marbles first shot "fat", k names of, k playing, k reals, k march birds, k blooming plants, g marconi, guglielmo inventor of wireless telegraph, e , marguerites bedding plants, g marigold african, characteristics, g characteristics, g good blooming plant, g marsh marigold, characteristics, g planting seeds, g pot marigold, characteristics, g , sowing and blossoming time, g varieties, g marine engines. _see_ gasolene motors; steam turbines marketing, h - principles of buying, h quantities, consideration of, h staples, buying of, h _see also_ names of articles, e. g., fish; meats; vegetables; etc., also beef; shad, etc. markets in venice, h marking bath towels, n *, combination stitches, n - * cross stitch, n emblems, bullion, n - feather-stitching, n french knots, n ladder stitch, n - monograms, n - napkins, n , outlining, n * papier-mache letters, n table and bed linen, n marquetry work, c marsh rabbit, a martha, h - martin migration, k masonry. _see_ cement; foundations; retaining walls match safe copper work, m - * match scratchers drawing and making, c * matches invention of, b mathematics woodwork mathematics, c - mats corn husk for braiding, a tooled leather, designs and process, d , * woven rattan, n *, _see also_ rugs matt tool definition of, m matting cleaning, h mattress making for doll-bed, n - * corn husks for, a maxim's, aero-curves, b - * maxwell, james clark scientist, e may birds, k blooming plants, g may apple, a , g mayonnaise remedy for curdled, h meadow lark migration, k meadow mushroom, a meals clearing the table, h effect of mental attitude during, h preparation advance, h sequence of work, h - serving courses, h dessert course, h duties of waitress, h - finger bowls, h who to serve first, h without a maid, h - measures. _see_ weights and measures meat boiling whole, h braising, h broiling, h - buying principles, h camp cooking, k cooking, preparation for, h cuts of, h * food value, h table, h judging condition of, h left overs, h names of parts, h roasting, h stewing, h _see_ also beef; fish; lamb; mutton; pork; poultry; veal mechanical drawing, c - * circles, c - * crosses, c - * curves, b cylinder and cones, c * design for filing cabinet, c - * for match scratcher, c * ellipse, b - *, c *, - * enlarging or reducing drawings, c , b first lessons, c - * triangle, hexagon and star, c * mechanical drawing--instruments compass proportional compasses, b * how to use, c - cyclograph for describing circular arcs, b * drawing board how to use, c - * making, c - * drawing table, making, c - * irregular or french curves, making, c making an outfit, c - pantagraph making, c - * how to use, b * section liners, c t-square making, c - * to prevent warping, c use of, c triangles, constructing, c - * views and dimensions, c - * mechanical movements anti-friction bearing, b * balance, principle of, b balance spring, b - * capstan, b * centrifugal check hooks, b * circular motion continuous, b * intermittent, b - * variable, b * combination, b - * compasses, b compound, definition, b crank motion, b cyclographs for describing circular arcs, b * diagonal catch and hand gear, b , disk-engine, b * driving feed rolls, b * endless bands, b * feed motion, b * fulcrum, principle of, b - * geneva stop, b * governor centrifugal, b * engine, b water wheel, b * grinding or crushing, b - *, * gyroscope, b - * hyperbolas, b * irregular motion, b - * lantern wheel, b * lewis, b * link-motion valve gear, b - * number of, b oscillating engines, b - * pantagraph, b * parabolas, b * parallel motion, b - * parallel ruler, mechanism, b - * pendulums, b - * perpetual motion definition, b impossibility of, e - pulleys, b - * ratchet wheel, b - * rectilinear motion, b * releasing hook, b * rollers, principle of, b rolling contact, b * rotary, b * rotary engines, b * intermittent, b * simple, definition, b speed, changing, b * steering gear, b stop and rotary motion, b * toe and lifter, b * tongs for lifting, b * tread mills, b * turbine, jonval, b * water wheels, b - * windmills, b * weight, lever and fulcrum, b - * _see also_ mechanics; pumps mechanical powers. _see_ inclined plane; lever; mechanics; pulley; screw; wedge; wheel and axle mechanical toys. _see_ toys mechanics first mechanical power, b problems in estimating mechanical power, b progress of mechanical arts, b - six mechanical powers defined, b - _see also_ aeroplanes; electric power; engines; gasolene motors; inclined planes; kites; lever; mechanical drawing; mechanical movements; perpetual motion; power; pulley; pumps; screw; water wheel; wedge; wheel and axle medicinal plants digitalis from foxglove, a golden seal, a pokeweed, a weeds, g medicine cabinet making with paneled doors, c - * melon origin, g planting seed depth and distance, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g _see also_ muskmelon; watermelon mending and repairing. _see_ patching; soldering menus, h - combinations and varieties, h - selection for ease in cooking, h variety, essential, h _see also_ diet; food; marketing mercury vapor lamps, e - * metal work alloys, m andirons, forging, m - * belt buckle, designs, m * bending process, m blotter pad, corners for, m - * bossing up, m , bowl making, m *, - * dutch bowls, m - * finger bowls, m - * brazing metals, m - chasing, m coloring metals, d blue black, m heating process, m oxidizing silver, m patina, imitation, m solution for, m violet, m corners for chest, m for desk pad, m - * decorative forgings, suggestions, d metal work, m - * definitions of terms, m - designing patterns, m - * die making, m - door handles, making, m , , *, door knockers, m - * door pulls, m * drawer pulls designs, m * making, m - * drawing process, m embossing, m , process, m engraving process, m escutcheon plate, m * etching, m eye bolt, m , facets, m * oval, m flux, m forming process, m hammering, m *, , handles cedar chest, m crumb scraper, m * hinges cabinet, m * cedar chest, m copper or silver, m - * fine hinges, m * riveting to box, m * tube hinges, m - * binding tubes in place, m * wings, making, m * impressing, m inlaying, m lanterns, m - * letter openers, m * lids, m *, *, , lock plates, m , molds making, m - * value of, m pickling metals, m planishing, m processes other than smithing operations, m - repairing by brazing, m repousse definition, m design, m * ring and ring post for box, m riveting, m - * handles, m iron tongs, m * process, m , * rivets, making, m splitting iron or soft steel, m , - * tools for, m - *, - trimmings for cedar chest, m - * for cigar box, m - * tubing for hinges, making, m - * twisting process, m upsetting, definition, m wire, reducing size of, m _see also_ annealing; blacksmithing; brass work; candlestick; copper work; enamel and enameling; fire tools; forging; iron work; silver work; soldering; steel; tempering; tools; welding meteorology. _see_ barometer; hail; lightning; rain; thermometer; weather meter. _see_ ammeter; electric-meters; gas-meters; voltmeter; wattmeter metric system, c - mexican drawnwork, n * mice as pets, k pests, h microbes tetanus, b mignonette annual, g characteristics, g choosing and planting, g sowing and blossoming time, g mildew removing stains, h milk boiling point, h book about, a food value, h , goat's milk, value, a marketing, a removing ink and rust stains with, h testing for butter fat, a sanitary and unsanitary methods of milking, a - milking machine, electric, e milkweed (prickly lettuce) class and seed time, g distribution of seed, g mimeograph, b minerals collecting, k mining machinery centrifugal check hook, b * mink breeding season, a skin stretching, a value, a , skinning, a * trapping, a - minnows catching, k - * mirrors. _see_ glass mission furniture book case, making, c clock case, making, c - * foot rests, making, c , * library table, making, c - * making, c - plant stands, making, c - * tabourette, making, c - * tea table, making, c - * umbrella rack, making, c * writing desk, design, c * mission oak finish, d mississippi river proposed dam across, b mitchell, frank success with chickens, a mitre box making and testing, c - * mitred joints, c - *, *, d - * model house. _see_ architecture modeling. _see_ pottery molasses food value, h mole fur, a habits, a trapping, a - mollusks preserving specimen, a money. _see_ accounts; allowances; income mongolian pheasants, a monogram embroidering, n - monoplane construction of, b - * toy model, making, c - * months lunar and calendar, b moon diameter, b distance from earth, b light, origin, b orbit, b phases, b * rotation, b _see also_ tides moon flower characteristics, g moon vine value, g moore, d. mcfarland inventor of moore light, e * moore electric lamp, e * mops kinds and uses, h morels mushrooms, a morning glory characteristics, g sowing and blossoming time, g value, g morris, william rule for household possessions, h morris chair construction, d - * designs, d *, * history of designs, d wood finish, d morrison, arthur budget of housekeeping expenses, h morse, samuel finley breese inventor of the telegraph, e mortise and tenon joints, c *, *, *, mosquitoes book about, a breeding places, a enemies of, a , k eradicating, a - protection from, in camping, k moss pink characteristics, g moths baiting, a - , k - collecting and mounting, k - collecting time, a development from the egg, a - how they come out of the cocoon, a pests, h _see also_ silkworm motion. _see_ mechanical movements motor boat. _see_ boat building; gasolene motor; launch motor cycles engines, b - * motors. _see_ aeroplanes; automobiles; dynamos; electric motors; engines; gasolene motors; locomotives; steam engines; vacuum cleaner; water wheel molding. _see_ metal work; pottery molds concrete block molds, b concrete furniture molds, d die making, m - metal work, m - , mount mellick stitch, n mountain climbing healthfulness of, k mountains snow line, b mounting specimens. _see_ insects; plants; seaweed mouse club membership, k movements. _see_ mechanical movements moving toys. _see_ toys muffins mixing ingredients, h mulberry leaves food for silkworms, a mullein, moth class and seed time, g habits and characteristics, g mumblety peg, k mushrooms book about, a chanterelles, identifying, a cooking, a , coprinus comatus, a coral fungi cooking, a identifying, a edible varieties, a *, - food value, h inky caps, identifying, a meadow mushrooms, a morels, identifying and gathering, a * oyster mushrooms, identifying, a propagation, a puff balls cooking, a identifying, a - , - varieties, a - shaggy manes, a where to get information about, a music transmitted by telephone, e musical instruments. _see_ organ; piano; pipe organ; telharmonium musk characteristics, g muskmelon american, outdoor planting, g english, how grown, g - food value, h indoor planting time, g seeds, germination per cent., g muskrat book about, a food, a fur, value, a houses, a river trapping, a setting and baiting traps, a skinning, a * skins, value, a swamp trapping, a trapping, a season, a mustard, wild class and seed time, g mutton cuts and their uses, h food value, table, h my heritage, h - myrtle characteristics, g n nail puller making, m * nails boxes for, making, c - * cabinet for, making, c - * driving into plaster walls, c holding power, b - sinking nails, c * napkin marking, n _see also_ table linen napkin rings silver or copper work, m - * naphtha cleaning properties, h narcissus easy to grow, g poets narcissus, planting and blooming time, g varieties distinguished, g water bulbs, g , nasturtium characteristics, g , , , dwarf, characteristics, g planting, g , natural resources conservation, a - by specimen collectors, a nature study keeping a diary, k - making a beginning, k - methods, k mineral collections, k practical side, k water life, k - water telescope, k _see also_ insects; plants; shells; silkworm necklace silver work, m - * neckties. _see_ ties needham, john reclaiming a spring, a - needlecase making, n - * needlecraft. _see_ basket making; bead work; braiding; crocheting; drawnwork; dressmaking; embroidery; irish crochet; knitting; lace making; leather work; sewing nemophila characteristics, g nernst lamp, e nets butterfly net, k * collector's net for water specimen, k * making, for insect collecting, a - newspapers cleaning lamps with, h polishing glass with, h newton, sir isaac corpuscular theory of light, e theory of tides, b - newts taming, a nigger baby (game), k nile river dam across, b nitrates plant food, g , , for sandy soil, g norfolk island pine, g norway pine. _see_ pine--red notched joints, c * notched trophy stick, c * nut hatch insect destroyer, a nutrition. _see_ diet; food nuts beech nuts, a - book about, a chinquapins, a food value, h grading for market, a growing, a - from seeds, a hazel nuts, a - hickory nuts, a pecans, a - pine nuts, a tree seeds, a care of, a use of, a walnuts, a - nuts (iron) forging, m - * o oak antique, stain for, c black jack or barren oak, characteristics, c black or yellow, characteristics, c chestnut oak, characteristics, c durability of wood, c flemish oak stain, d forest green oak finish, d fuming, d - golden oak finish, d gray oak stain, d laurel oak, characteristics, c live oak, characteristics, g mission oak finish, d mossy-cup or bur oak, characteristics, c oak gall, k pin oak, characteristics, c , g post or iron oak, characteristics, c quality of, g quarter-sawed, c *, d - red, characteristics, c scarlet, characteristics, c stains, list of, c swamp white oak, characteristics, c weathered oak stain, d white, characteristics, c - willow oak, characteristics, c oats depth to plant seeds, g obelisks moving, b - occupations berry picking, a - best ways of earning money, a - birds, attracting, a - carriage cleaning, a character building, a - choosing, a cider vinegar, making, a - collecting christmas greens, a - collecting insects, a - collecting plants, a - , - collecting tree seeds, a - collecting useful plants, flowers, grasses, etc., a - collecting wood for rustic furniture, a corn, drying, a - corn, selecting seed, a - * fall work, list of, a forest fires, preventing, a - game preserve, creating, a - grape juice making, a - harvesting nature's crops, a - keeping bees, a - kindling wood, gathering, a - lavender sticks, making, a leaf mold, making, a - making brooks and springs useful, a - maple sugar making, a - mosquitoes and flies, exterminating, a - mushroom gathering, a - nuts, gathering and growing, a - odd jobs, a - orchard work, a * outdoor worker's library, a - raising animals for pets, a - raising domestic animals, a - silkworms, raising, a - snow shoveling, a - spring work, list of, a summer work, list of, a tennis court, making, a - training animals, a - trapping, a - weeds, killing, a - wild fruit, gathering, a - winter work, list of, a year-round, list of, a _see also_ housekeeping ocean. _see_ tides odd jobs, a - oersted, hans christian discovery of magnetic action of currents, e discoverer of magnetic field about an electric current, e ohm, george simon ohm's law, e - oil cloth as a floor covering, h oil engines. _see_ gas and oil engines oil furnace heating steel in, m oil lamp. _see_ lamp, oil oil nut. _see_ butternut oilstone sharpening tools, c * okra germination per cent., g olympic games events contested for, k one old cat (game), k onion food value, h indoor planting time, g insect pests, g peeling, h planting seed depth and distance to plant, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g planting sets and seed, g - seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g germination period, g soil for, g , open air life. _see_ outdoor life opening the house. _see_ housekeeping opossum bait for, a skin, value, a orange food value, h orange root, g , orchard. _see_ fruit trees organ electric, e , - * pipe organ, e - telharmonium, e - oriental rug washing, a oriole insect eater, a migration, k ornithoptere flying machine, b osage orange hedge shrub, g osmium lamp metal filament, e oswego tea, g , outdoor furniture. _see_ furniture outdoor games. _see_ games outdoor life sleeping outdoors, a - , * value of, k _see also_ camping outdoor sports. _see_ sports outdoor work free printed matter, how to obtain, a - occupations suited to the four seasons, a odd jobs, a - _see also_ occupations outlining. _see_ marking ovens camp ovens, k - * clay, k dampers for regulating, h dutch, k electric, e - reflector, k , * temperature for baking and roasting, h , owl as a pet, k oxen trained oxen, value of, a - oyster broiling, h - cleaning, h food value, h opening, h testing, h oyster mushroom, a p packing books, h fixtures, h - furs and woolens, h textile furnishings, h paint cleaning woodwork, h , , removing stains, h stenciling, n - painting (mechanical) brushes, h mixing paints, h preparing surface, h summer house, c palms care of, g varieties to grow, g panama canal cement used for, b pandanus window box plant, g pansy care of bed, g characteristics, g , picking flowers, g planting seeds, g to prevent running out, g tufted, characteristics, g pantagraph, b * making, c * pantry arrangement, h plan in model house, d _see also_ dish washing paper hanging applying paste, h matching and cutting, h putting on paper, h quantity of paper required, h removing old paper, h paper knife carving designs, c * copper work, d *, m - *, - * whittling, c - * papier-mache letters for marking, n par (game), k parabolas describing, b * parasites eggplant pests, g paris green insecticide, g , , , , rule for mixing, g paris sewers described by victor hugo, h parsley, g planting seed depth to plant, g , distance to plant, g in a box, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g parsnips food value, h planting seed, g time to plant, g wild parsnips, class and seed time, g partridge migration, k pass it (game), k passe partout, d - * color scheme, d - materials and tools, d process, d - * paste receipt, h for leather work, n , , pastry filling pies, h juices, to prevent boiling over, h mixing the dough, h , soggy crust, preventing, h patching square patch, n - * patents applying for, b - , canadian, b caveat, provisional protection, b drawings and specifications, b - duration, b fees for application, b , in a foreign country, b re-issuing, b time required to procure, b what granted for, b patterns. _see_ embroidery; dressmaking; stenciling peach trees care of seeds for planting, a distance to plant trees, g peacock care and feeding of young chicks, a habits of the hen, a indian peacock, value, a raising, a - acquiring information about, a peanuts food value, h pear distance to plant trees, g food value, h peas food value, h , insect pests, g planting seed, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g , germination period, g peasants german embroidery work, n russian applique work, n pecan commercial value, a , cultivating, a - gathering, a - grading, a - polishing for market, a peen of hammer. _see_ hammer pelota (game), k pelts. _see_ skins pen rack design and making, c - * pen tray gouge work, c *, * pen wiper tooled leather, d - * pencil box making and carving, c - * pencil sharpener drawing and making, c * pendulum compound bar, compensation pendulum, b * mercurial compensation pendulum, b * pennant yacht pennant, b peony annuals, g arrangement in the garden, g chinese, characteristics, g , depth to plant, g european, characteristics, g garden, characteristics, g planting and blooming time, g pepper indoor planting time, g planting and transplanting, g - planting seed depth and distance to plant, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g germination period, g stuffing, varieties for, g varieties, g pepper bush, sweet characteristics, g perennials definition of, g for cut flowers: table, g fragrant: table, g low: table, g medium height: table, g tall: table, g value of, g pergola designing and building, c - * perpetual motion, b impossibility of, e - persimmons picking, a region grown, a pests. _see_ household pests; insect pests; mice; rats pets book about, a care of, k - housing, c - *, k ornamental land and water fowl, k - raising, a - story of a boy's animal cage, a - taming wild animals, k trained, market value, a _see also_ bantams; birds; cats; cavies; crows; dogs; ducks; gold fish; guinea pigs; mice; pigeons; poultry; rabbits; raccoon; shetland pony; squirrels petunia characteristics, g good bloomers, g sowing and blossoming time, g pheasant book about, a breeds, a coops and rearing ground, a - eggs, packing, a feeding young chicks, a localities in united states for raising, a migration, k protection from birds of prey, a raising, a - care of mother, a in england, a serving in german fashion, a varieties, k _see also_ guinea fowl phlox characteristics, g , , , late, characteristics, g sowing and blossoming time, g phoebe bird insect destroyers, a migration, k phosphates plant food, g , , photography, k - action of chemical waves, e cameras, kinds and cost, k - dark room, k developers and developing, k - exposure, k fixing bath, k , focusing, k - lens, importance of, k negatives, preserving, k plates versus films, k printing papers, k snap shots, taking, k - snap shots versus real photography, k subjects, choosing, k piano, electric, e pickerel weed characteristics, g pickles walnuts, a pickling metals definition, m picks (tools) forging stone picks, m * picnic tables and benches making, b - picture frames and framing carbon photographs of a masterpiece, framing d - carving designs, c , , - colonial interiors in colors, framing, d gluing mitred joints, d - * joints kind required, d mitred, d - *, c - * large photographic reproduction, framing, d palette photograph frame, c passe partout, d - * rabbeting, c * selecting, d shrinkage, d silver work, m - * staining, d , stock, securing, d - * whittling back for, c whittling out of solid piece, c - * pictures, d - * cleaning, h decorative value, d grouping and hanging, d - hanging correctly, d * considering space values, d - height to hang, d hooks and wires, d - japanese way of hanging, d - piers foundation walls, b filling space between, b pies. _see_ pastry pig. _see_ swine pig iron, m pig pen. _see_ swine pig weed class and seed time, g pigeon holes. _see_ filing cabinet pigeons breeds, a , k prize winners, k carrier pigeons, k characteristics, a common, care of, k devotion of male, a dove cote, a - care of, a for fancy breeding, k sanitary provisions, a dragoons, k fancy pigeons for pets, a - feeding, a , k fly made of wire, a * market value, k nest building, a nest dishes, a , nesting compartment, building, a - net for capturing, a * perches, making, a pests, guarding against, a pouter, k roosts, making, a * rufflenecks (jacobins), k tumblers, characteristics, a , k water bath, a white fan tail, model, k _see also_ squabs pile driving machine releasing hook, b * pillow bead work, n choosing cushion covers, d cornhusks for filling cushions, a fraternity pillow, n lingerie pillow, n making for doll-bed, n _see also_ block printing; stenciling pillow case making for doll-bed, n * marking, n pillow shams fastening, h pin insect pins, a metal work tool, m pin case making, n * pin cushion embroidered, n - pin tray gouge work, c * pine cones, gathering and storing, a georgia pine, characteristics, c long leaf, a pitch pine, characteristics, c red, characteristics, c white characteristics, c strength, c white pine seeds gathering and curing, a - marketing, a yellow, characteristics, c pine needles. _see_ balsam pine nuts gathering, a pink characteristics, g fringed, characteristics, g moss pink, characteristics, g pioneer life "goin' plummin'", a - pipe organ operating by electricity, e - pipes. _see_ plumbing; soldering; stove pipe; waste pipes pistil seed making function, g pistons mechanism of, b - * pitch block definition of, m pitch fork forging, m * pitcher plant characteristics, g plackets. _see_ dressmaking plaited skirts. _see_ dressmaking plane. _see_ inclined plane planes and planing adjusting planes, c block plane, c , cap iron, adjustment and use, c * jack plane, c operation of the plane, c , - , d - , sharpening plane irons, c - * smooth plane, c * use of shooting board, c * wooden and iron, c * planishing definition of, m plant breeding budding, g - improving seeds, g - layering, g - methods, g mongrel varieties from close planting, g , seed selection, g - slipping, g - topping, g , - plant food, g - chemicals essential for, g how plants feed, g nitrogen, g , for sandy soil, g source of, g phosphorus, g , , potash, g , , source and value of, g plant stands jardiniere of wood, g - * mission style, making, c - stool making, g - plantain rib-grass, class and seed time, g seed production, g planting tables. _see_ flower gardening; seeds; shrubs; vegetable gardening plants action of chemical waves, e books about, a effect of light, g essential parts, g food manufactured and stored by, g - herbaceous plants, definition, g honey or pollen plants, a leaves food factory, g - functions, g lice, destroying, g , , life history, g - making wooden labels for, g * medicinal plants, a root-system, g - stems, passage way, g studying, a - transplanting, g , - from coldframe, g - useful to attract birds and protect trees, a _see also_ flower gardening; flowers; gardening; insect pests; plant breeding; plant food; salad plants; seeds; vegetable gardening; vegetables; also names of plants plants--collection and preservation, a - arranging specimens, a - blue printing, a - classifying specimens, a - drying specimens, a labeling specimens, a , k marketing collection, a mounting specimens, a - , k outfit for, a preserving in covers, a reasons for collecting, a - , representing different stages of growth, a - rules of the game, a seaweed, a - play importance of, k - playhouse, h - in flats and apartments, h in garret, h in a tree, h make believe, h , playthings make believe, h - _see also_ toys pleurisy root, g , pliers carpenter's tool, c * metal worker's tool, m * plug in the ring (game), k plum care of seeds for planting, a distance to plant trees, g origin and distribution of wild plums, a value of trees in chicken yards, k plumb-line home-made device, g plumbing, h - care of, in closed houses, h importance of, h leaks, peppermint test, b location of pipes for housekeeper, h principle of the u, h - * taps, repairing, b traps, construction and care, h - ventilation pipes, h _see also_ soldering; waste pipes pocket book. _see_ purse point lace. _see_ lace making poison ivy destroying, a - poisoning. _see_ lockjaw poker making fire tools, m * pokeweed roots and berries, a shoots as food, a polish and polishing french polish, c wax polish, c _see also_ brass work; copper work; enamel; floors; furniture; glass; metal work pollination of plants, g corn growing, g polo equestrian, k hand polo, k water polo, k wicket polo, k pompey's pillar, b pond making in a city back yard, g - ponderosa indoor plant, g pony as a pet, a - poplar carolina, g characteristics, c for landscape gardening, g quick growers, g popp-mallow characteristics, g poppy characteristics, g , depth to plant seeds, g iceland, sowing and blossoming time, g in england, g oriental, characteristics, g planting, g , plume, characteristics, g self-sowing, g transplanting, g porcupine quills how to procure, a uses, a pork cuts and their uses, h food value, h combined with vegetables, h used as chicken, h porterhouse steak, h portieres bead work, n - stenciling, n weaving designs, d - _see also_ block printing portland cement origin and uses, b - portulaca blooming plants, g characteristics, g posts preserving underground, c _see also_ foundations pot rest, g - * pot roast, h potash plant food, g , , potato boiled or baked, h food value, h insect pests, g , planting seed potatoes, g cutting device, a - * depth and distance to plant, g quantity to plant, g profit from raising, g spraying, g soil for, g potato race, k pots and pans care of, h , materials, h soldering, m - potted plants. _see_ flower gardening pottery, d - * bat and how made, d "bisque," meaning, d bowl decorating, d - * designing and modeling, d - * candlestick, designing, d - * clay, selecting, d coiling method, d , * concrete pottery, d - * decoration applying the design, d - classes, d - * color combinations, d - methods, d modeling a decoration, d under-glazing, d - designing, d - * avoiding natural forms, d testing profiles, d * development of, d - fern dish, d - * firing, d - glazed pottery, d glazes, matt and bright glaze mixes, d glazing, d - * grinding the glaze, d "grog" making, d handles, making, d * kiln, portable, d * materials and tools, d - * template, d * modeling process, d - * potter's wheel versus hand method, d - scientific principle of, d scraping, d * "slip," meaning, d testing work, d * tiles for tea plate and fireplace, d - * tools, d - vases, designing and decorating, d - * poultry, a - , k - accounts, how to keep, a , , , acquiring information, a amateur's experience with, a - american breeds, k asiatic breed, k bantams, breeding and care, a - books about, a brahmas, k breeding pure stock, a purpose of, k breeds, characteristics, a - , k - broilers, raising, k fattening for market, a - brooders, making, a , k broody hens, curing, a business methods in poultry raising, a - care and housing, a - , k - city experiment with, a cleanliness, a - , clipping wings, k cochins, k cooking broiling, h - preparation for, h - coops, model, a - * crested variety, care of, a drawing poultry, h dust bath for, a *, k eggs best layers, k cost of, for settings, k effect of feeding on layers, a keeping a record for idlers, a * of fancy fowls, a quality affected by feed, a selections for settings, a testing layers, a - * winter laying, k - exercise, provisions for, a , expenses of one experiment, a experiments, a - fancy breeds and their care, a - , k - fattening broilers for market, a , feathers, marketing, a food value: table, h fruit trees in the chicken yard, k hamburgs, characteristics, a hatching average number from a setting, k time required for eggs to hatch, a , k , hen gate, a * houdans, characteristics, a incubators, a average time for eggs to hatch, k , operating, k - killing, h lakenvelders, characteristics, a langshans, k laying hens. _see_ poultry, eggs leghorns, k eggs, a in a prize contest, a - lice on small chicks, a , k preventing, a marketing, a - mediterranean breeds, k molting season, a nests for sitting hens, a non-sitters, k ornamental land and water fowl as pets, k - cost of, k orpingtons, record price, k plucking, h plymouth rocks, k polish varieties, a prize contests, stories of, a - prize-winning orpingtons, k profit in, k ranging versus housing, a runs, cornfields for, a selection of, for cooking, h shows, purpose of, k sitting hens coops for, a - *, feeding, a nests for, a raising, k - starting a business with eggs versus chickens, k - stories of success in raising, a - thoroughbreds versus mongrels, k training for poultry raising, a trap nests for testing layers, a - * white wyandotte, a - , k wild fowl, clipping wings, k winter care, k - young chicks, care of, k - , a - yokahamas, a _see also_ ducks; game and game birds; geese; guinea fowl; peacock; poultry feeding; poultry houses; turkey poultry feeding effect on quality of eggs, a feeding six thousand hens in one half hour, a - growing feed, a making hens lay, a molting season, a rack for feed pans, to prevent waste, a * regularity essential, a self-feed grain box, a * self-feed grit box, a * sitting hens, a trough for feed, making, c * winter feeding, k young chicks, a - , k poultry houses building a poultry house, a - *, c - *, k * cleaning provisions, a , k construction principles, a , c - coops, a - * corners, finishing, c * curtained shed, a doors and windows, a *, c dropping board, a , c dust bath, a *, k floors, cement, a foundation, c - frame for window screen, c framework of the house, c - * for an eleven dollar house, a * furnishings, a - *, k * heat, planning for, a location, a , k materials, a - nests, location, a - , k roofing paper, c roosts, making, a , c , k runs, a , , c , k sanitary principles, a - , scratching shed, a , k , siding for frame, c sleeping room, k working drawings, c , powell. _see_ baden-powell, sir robert power dynamometer for measuring, b * foot pound, b problems in estimating, b steam versus electricity, e - units of power, b - _see also_ electric power; gasolene motors; mechanics; steam; water power precious stones bezel setting, m - *, *, cutting metal away for setting, m - * prong setting, m - * selecting for rings, m preserves storing in cellar, h _see also_ canning; jam; jelly press copying methods, b pressing skirts, n prime roasts, h printing block printing, d - prisoner's base, k propeller. _see_ aeroplanes; screw propeller proteins effect of boiling, h effect of cold water, h food composition, h foods containing, h proportion in diet, h , proverbs indian proverb about home making, h pruning hazel bushes, a methods, a - * puff balls, a - , - pulleys chain, b * dynamometer, b * endless chain, b expanding, b * mechanical principle of, b - * movable, theory of, b - * multiple, b - * rule for power, b , snatch block, b * spanish bartons, b * triangular eccentric, b * use of, b * white's pulley, b * pumpkin planting, g depth and distance to plant, g quantity of seed to plant, g time to plant, g with corn, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g striped beetle pests, g pumps action of, b - archimedes screw, b - *, double acting, b * force pumps, b , lift pumps, b , * plunger pump for vacuum cleaner, b - * theory of, b - _see also_ windmills punch (tool) centre punch, making, m * metal work tool, m * pupa. _see_ insects puppy. _see_ dogs purdy, carl collecting and growing california bulbs, a - purling, n * purse bead work, n - * tooled leather, making, d - * _see also_ card case purslane (pursley) class and seed time, g push ball, k push button. _see_ electric push button pyramids of egypt how they were built, b - pyrography outfit, c - woods suitable for, c , pyrometric cones, d * q quail. _see_ bob white quaker ladies, g quarter sawed oak, c , d - * queen anne's lace, g quills, porcupine, a quoits, k r rabbeted joints, c * rabbit bait, a breeds, common and fancy, k , a care of, k characteristics, a enemies, a fur, value, a house, construction, c - *, k - * hunting, a raising for pets, a snares, making, a story of a boy's animal cage, a raccoon bait for, a habits, a skin, value, a story of a boy's animal cage, a taming, a - racing feather race, k marathon race, k potato race, k sack race, k three legged race, k tub race, k water race, k racquets or rackets (game), k radiators steam as distributors of heat, e radish icicle, g indoor planting time, g insect pests, g planting seed depth to plant, g , distance to plant, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g quick development, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g germination period, g raffia work, n - * basket making, n , - covers, n handles, n - melon-shaped basket, n - * belts, n - braiding raffia, n - *, doll's hammock, n doll's hat, n - * fringe, n hats braiding, n - * trimming, n , , weaving on wire frames, n - jewel case, n - * knotting raffia, n - * materials for, n napkin ring, n , * preparing the raffia, n , shopping bag, knotted raffia, n - * skip stitch, n solomon's knot, n split stitch, n three strand braid, n - whisk broom, n * winding stitch, n rafters. _see_ roofs ragout, h ragweed class and seed time, g rain causes of, b - drops, formation, b - shape, b fall effect on forestation, b measuring, b - * recording, b - gauge, making, b - * importance of, b period of rainfall, b table for measures, b weather symbol, b raisins food value, h raking, g ranges draughts and dampers, h - _see also_ gas range raspberries food value, h picking wild raspberries, a ratchet wheel mechanism, b - * rats book about, a electrocution device, e - * trapping, a rattan work baskets, n - * mats, n *, whisk broom holder, n reamur thermometer scale, b receipts barberry jelly, a canning elderberries, a elderberry steamed pudding, a green grape jelly, a pickled walnuts, a thimbleberry jam, a wild crabapple butter, a _see also_ camping--cooking; cookery; insecticides; paste red line, or red lion (game), k red spider, g reed basket weaving, g - * reel making a garden reel, g * refrigerator cleaning, h , drainage, regulating, h economy in ice supply, h how to avoid odors, h location, h purifying, h remington typewriter, b - * renaissance lace. _see_ lace rent what proportion of income to use for, h , , repairing. _see_ furniture; soldering repousse definition of, m retaining walls batter, making, b - "closers", b designing, b - * foundation, b *, galveston sea wall, b "header", b pointing, b "stretcher", b rheostat. _see_ electric rheostat rhubarb food value, h ribbon embroidery. _see_ embroidery rice camp cooking, k food value, h washing, h wild rice characteristics, a - harvesting, a uses of, a , richards, ellen h. "cost of living" quoted, h rifles aiming, k care and cleaning, k learning to use, k - rings iron, welding, m - *, * silver work, m - * steel, making, m * _see also_ precious stones rivers protecting river banks, b tides, b , _see also_ retaining walls riveting handles, m iron tongs, m * making rivets, m metal, m - * metal worker's tool, m * rivet set, m silver letters on copper, m - * stove pipe, m roads material for road-bed, g - repairing dirt roads, g - roast pig, story, h roasting meats, h open fire for, h thickness of food, h robbers irish stew and the robbers: story, h robin insect destroyers, a migration, k rock how soil was formed from, g _see also_ boulders rock garden flowers to plant in, g location, g plants, g soil requirements, g roentgen rays ether waves, e roley boley (game), k roller ball-bearing principle, b making wooden rollers, c * moving rocks on rollers, b roman cut work, n - * roof construction for summer house, c - * construction of frame, c - * cornices, c hip roof, construction, c * painting, b , c rafters fitting, c * making curved rafters, c roofing paper, c saddle boards, c shingling, b - , c - * estimating shingles, b nails required, b square of shingling or clap boarding, meaning, b rooms. _see_ bedroom; dining-room; furniture; girl's room; guests; house decoration; kitchen; living-room; pantry; servants ropes carrying power of hemp, b preservative for hemp, b strength of wire rope, b roque, k rose christmas, characteristics, g insect pests and remedies, g , irish crochet, n - , moss, characteristics, g rose chafer, g rose jar copper work, m - * rose slug, g rotascope. _see_ gyroscope rotation of crops, g round steak, h round table, knights of how gareth became a knight, h rowing intercollegiate record, k rubbed joints, c * rubber plant topping, g , rubbish disposal of, g rubicon (game), k rugby football, k rugs bathroom, h beating-rack, a - * braiding, n - * carpets versus rugs, a - cleaning, a - , h dry cleaning, h kitchen, h oriental, washing, a storing, h washing, a - weaving, d - *, n - * color combinations, d designs, d - , - *, n materials, d , , n preparing the woof, d - process, d - , n - setting the loom, n - woof shuttle, d * rulers carpenter's rule, c parallel, mechanism of, b * run, sheep, run (game), k running hare and hound chases, a russia calf for tooled leather, n rustic furniture collecting wood for, a suggestions for making, d - * rye food value, h s sable, alaskan, a sachets herbs and grasses for, a sack racing, k sad iron. _see_ electric iron saddles english, mexican and army, k - * safety valves for steam engines, b sage growing, g saint francis of assisi, h salad plant endive, g lettuce, g salamander taming, a salary. _see_ income salmon bait for, k * food value, h salt removing stains with, h salt cellar silver work, m - * salt pork cuts, h salvia bedding plants, g san jose scale, k sand bag definition of, m sand papering. _see_ whittling sandy soil. _see_ soils sanitation. _see_ garbage; plumbing; refrigerator; sewerage santos dumont's monoplane, b *, - sap. _see_ maple sugar sardine food value, h sashes. _see_ doors; windows satin stitch, n - * combinations, n - * design, n * sauce wild crabapple, a sausage buckwheat cakes combination, h food value: table, h sauteing, h saving methods, h - necessity and value, h savoury herb, g saw horse making, c - * saw mills, c saws band saw, c brazing steel band saws, m buck saw, c * compass saw, c * construction principles, c - * coping saw, c * cross cut saws, principle and use, c * danger of the power saw, d gang saw, c hack saw, c * metal worker's tools, m * rating by points, c rip saw, principle and use, c * sawing copper work, m - * turning saw, c * using, position for, c * saxifrage habits and characteristics, g , scabiosa sowing and blossoming time, g scales mechanical principle, b - * scalloping, n - *, scallops cooking, h scarf crocheted, n * scarf pin silver work, m - * scarfing, m - , wrench, m * scarlet runner beans, g scarlet sage, g scarlet tanagers insect destroyer, a school grounds improving, g - science value of study, e - science club, e scilla, bell flowered planting and blooming time, g , scissors protecting points of, n shears for metal work, m * sconce copper work, m - * scorched stains removing, h scotland's burning, k scours remedy, a scouts. _see_ boy scouts of america scraper definition of, m screen. _see_ fire screen screw archimedian, b - *, * case hardening screws, m - concealing in woodwork, method of, c * countersunk, meaning, c driving, b endless, b finish, c flat and round head, c - * friction, provision for, b mechanical principle, b - * number designation, c nut, principle of, b power principle, b - principle applied to tools, b removing, device for, b rule for power, b use of, c - * wooden screw, strength of, b worm gear, b * worm and wheel, b - * screw drivers, c , - * screw propeller aeroplane, b - , c - * blades area versus power, b - finding area, b principle, b features of, b pitch, calculating, b * power calculating, b - * principle of, b - speed, reckoning, b sea walls. _see_ retaining walls seal electric, a french, a hudson, a seams. _see_ dressmaking search light, electric, e * seasoning broiled meats and vegetables, h , seats. _see_ benches; chairs; settees seaweed care of specimens before mounting, a collector's outfit, a mounting specimen, a - * time and places for collecting, a varieties, a seeds, g - age for planting purposes, g cotyledon, g depth to plant: table, g , distribution of wild seeds, g envelopes, making, g - * germination aiding, g experiments, g per cent., g - table, g method of improving, g - planting compacting soil, g - how to plant, g , quantity to plant: table, g time, indoor and outdoor, g - saving for sale or planting, g selection germ developing power, g impure seed, g seed plants, g - size, g - selling, how to put up seed, g - soaking, g testing for germinating value, g , _see also_ grass seed; trees; vegetables; also names of plants, e. g., beans; nasturtiums; pansy; peppers, etc. seesaw mechanical principle of, b selvage, n september blooming plants, g servants, h - cook, duties, h , days out, adjustment of work, h duties four or five maids, h one maid, h , three maids, h , two maids, h , , hours, h mistress and maid business relations, h - personal relations, h - personal liberty, lack of, h proportion of income required for, h room, h servant question, h - meals, when served, h waitress dress, h duties, h - serving table. _see_ buffet; setting the table serving the meal. _see_ meals--serving serving tray copper work, m - * seton, ernest thompson boy scouts organizer, k settee box furniture, making, c * garden settle, making, d * hall settle, d * outdoor settee, making, c - * setting the table dining table decorations, h glasses, h methods, h serving table, use of, h sideboard arrangements, h silver, h table linen, h - settle. _see_ settee sewer pipes. _see_ plumbing sewerage system, importance of, h sewing apron making, n - * back stitching, n * half back stitch, n * bands for aprons, n * skirts, n *, basting stitches, n * binding, n * blanket making, n * buttonhole stitch, n * buttons, n - care of hands, n counterpane for doll's bed, n * crow's foot stitch, n * darning, n - * felling seams, n french hem, n gathering, n - * stroking, n * gussets, n - * helping mother, n hemming french hem, n gauge, notched card, n * rolling the edge, n * skirt, n , straightening the edge, n turning corners, n * turning the hem, n hooks and eyes, n - * knotting the thread, n substitute for, n , mattresses, n * needle case, n - needles, emery for, n over-casting, n * over-handing, n - * patching, n - pillow cases, n * plackets, n - *, plain sewing, n - position of sewer, n - rolling the edge, n * running and back stitch combination, n * running stitches, n * scissors, how to hold, n * seams felling, n stitches for, n - * sewing apron, n - * sewing case, n - * stitches, n - * tape loops on towels and dresses, n * thimble, how to use, n * thread, length of, n tucking, n turning corners, n whip stitch, n * work box, fittings, n _see also_ basket making, bead work; braiding; dressmaking; embroidery sewing machines boat-shaped shuttle type carriers and drivers, adjustment, b - * looping the thread, b setting needles, b * cleaning, b oiling, b * puckering, to prevent, b - rotary hook type bobbin case, b - * holder, adjusting, b * compared with boat-shaped shuttles, b - construction, b - * feed, regulating, b feed motion, b * hook guide and hook driver, b - * hook ring, b needle bars, setting, b - needles changing, b setting, b - * presser foot, b - * repairing shuttles, b stitch regulator, b *, take up spring, replacing, b - * tension, b - thread controllers, b - * threading, b *, , wheeler and wilson, b - shuttle action of different types, b - * tension, adjusting, b - threads to use, b types, b vibrating shuttle, b - * presser foot, adjustment, b wheeler and wilson, b - , shackles forging, m - * shad food value, h shades cleaning window shades, h _see also_ candle shade; lamp shade shadow embroidery stitches and materials, n - * shagbarks, a shamrock pattern for irish crochet, n sharks catching, k sharpening tools. _see_ tools shawl crocheting rainbow shawl, n - * knitting, n - * shears protecting points of scissors, n tools for metal work, m * sheep feeding, a - book about, a lambs, care of, a raising, a - shearing, a sheepskin for leather work, n sheets making for doll-bed, n * marking, n _see also_ beds; ironing shell fish broiling oysters, h food value, h preparing for cooking, h - shellac method of using, c , d - source and qualities, c shells book about, a collecting, a - outfit, a preserving and labeling specimens, a shelters. _see_ summer house shelving. _see_ book case shetland pony breeding for profit, a characteristics, a - shingling. _see_ roof shinney, k shirley poppies, g shoe buttons how to sew on, n shoepac, k shoes base ball, k foot ball, k * for winter sports, k - shooting hints on how to shoot, k - rifle shooting, k - "wiping his eye", k shooting board how to make, c * how to use, c * shop. _see_ carpentry and woodwork; work shop shot guns aiming, k , barrel lengths, k care and cleaning, k choke-bore gun, k double barrels, k * "drop" of a gun, k for small game, k learning to shoot, k - pattern, testing, k - selecting, k - styles for various purposes, k unloading, k _see also_ rifles shovel blacksmith's shovel, m , * fire tools, making, m - * home-made snow shovel, a shrubs characteristics: table, g - hazel bush, a planting and transplanting, g selection principles, g , , , sideboard arranging for service, h design, d * siding. _see_ house framing sieve making a garden sieve, g - signals and signaling marine flag code, b - weather signals, b - silkworm culture, a - apparatus for rearing, a * book about, a cocoons preparing for market, a spinning, a - * weight of, a eggs hatching, a - laying, a - first age, a food and feeding, a , - racks for, a * moth how it comes out of the cocoon, a life of, a molting periods, a - stages of growth, a varieties of silk spinners, a silver cleaning and care, h , setting the table, h washing, h _see also_ silver work silver fox book about, a silver maple. _see_ maple silver work bar pins, m - * bezel setting, m - *, *, bracelets, m - * indian design, m - * brooches, m - * characteristics of silver for working, m collar slide, m - * comb, m - * cuff links, m - * enameling on, d gems selecting, m setting, m - *, *, , hinges. _see_ metal work--hinges lettering silver on copper, m - * links, making, m - * mustard spoon, m * napkin ring, m - * necklaces, m - * oxidizing silver, m pendants, m picture frame, m , - * pin, m - * rings bezel setting, m - * deep set stone, m - * prong setting, m - * twisted silver wire, m - * riveting letters, m - * salt cellar, m - * salt spoon, m * scarf pin, m - * setting the stone, m spoons, m - * sugar tongs bowl design, m * claw design, m - * tools chisel, making, m * mandrel, m * watch fob, m - * _see also_ copper work; metal work simmering definition, h sink location and care of kitchen sinks, h sirloin steak, h skate sailing, k - * skating, k - club skate model, k * damming a brook or pond, a fancy figures, k hockey skates and playing, k - * racing skates and skating, k sprinting stroke, k tennis court for skating pond, a - skee. _see_ skiing skiing, k - *, jumping, k ski pole, k * skis, k - * skins and hides curing, a removing, a tanning, a - solution, a skirts. _see_ dressmaking skittles lawn skittles, k - skunk nests and habits, a pelts, value, a , tame, a trapping, a - sled bobsled, k * toy, working drawing, c , * sledge blacksmith's tool, m sleep and sleeping advantages of outdoor sleeping, a - preparation for outdoor sleeping, a , * sleeves. _see_ dressmaking slippers crocheting, n - * slippery elm, c slugs exterminating, g garden pests, g rose slugs, g , small fruits. _see_ berries smartweed class and seed time, g smilax, southern, a smith premier typewriter, b - * smocking honeycomb pattern, n - stitch, n * smoking dangers of, k - smoking set copper work, m - * snake taming, a venomous, k snake's head, g , snapdragon, g snares. _see_ traps snarling iron definition of, m snow crystals, forms and colors, b - * formation, b line, b , measuring snowfall, b perpetual snow, b shoveling, a - uses of, b weight, b snow shoeing skis and skiing, k - * snow shoes, k - * snowballs japanese, g snowdrop planting and blooming time, g soap for laundry, h soccer. _see_ foot ball socket wrench. _see_ wrench sockets making an open wire rope socket, m - * soda combined with cream of tartar, h some uses of, h sour milk and, h sofa cushion. _see_ pillow softening metal. _see_ annealing soils acid, improving, g , , adapting crops, g - clay absorption of water, g characteristics, g formation, g - improving, g , , - , lime for acid soil, g elements, g formation of, g humus, g improving poor soil, g , - , - , impure air in, h inoculation, purpose and method, g , lime absorption of water, g formation, g - humus for, g improving, g testing for, g loam, meaning of, g preparing for grass seed, g - physical and chemical needs, g sand absorption of water and heat, g characteristics, g formation of, g improving, g , nitrogen needed, g subsoil, g testing, g - top-soil, g _see also_ drainage; flower gardening; plant food; also names of plants soldering brass vase, m copper handles, m - electric iron for, e * hard soldering, materials and directions, m - heat and tools for, m - * iron, making, m - * metals, m - * outfit, b , m - * preparations, b process, b soft soldering materials and tools, m process, m , - tinker's dam, b unsoldering, m solomon's seal, false habits and characteristics, g song birds. _see_ birds sorrel class and seed time, g sound production of, e variation with speed, e velocity, b - , e in dry air, water and metals, b independent of pitch, e vibrations of metal disks, e - waves, e length, b , e soups beef stock, what to buy, h boiling meat for stock, h to keep from curdling, h soutache braid for braiding, n spading how to spade, g , spanish fly (game), k sparrow bird enemy, k book about, a migration of song sparrow, k specific gravity meaning and application, b - speed indicator mechanism and use, e * spice bush characteristics, g spiders food for young wasps, a nature study, k spiked loosestrife characteristics, g spinach cleaning, h food value, h germination per cent. of seed, g time to plant, g spindle copper work, m - * spinning. _see_ silkworm spirea characteristics, g hedge shrub, g van houtte's, a good variety, g , spirit level, c * splice or scarf joints, c * spoons mustard spoon, silver work, m * nut set spoon, copper work, m - * salt spoon, silver work, m tea spoon, silver work, m - * sports girls' outdoor sports, k - winter sports, k - * _see also_ archery; base ball; camping; canoeing; coasting; cricket; curling; fishing; foot ball; games; golf; horsemanship; hunting; racing; rowing; shooting; skate sailing; skating; skiing; swimming; track athletics; trapping; walking spots. _see_ cleaning spring beauty habits and characteristics, g transplanting, g springs (machinery) air spring, b * bearing springs, b - car springs, b * cross bow, making, b * draw spring, b * tempering steel, m uses, b springs (water) preparing for trout culture, a - reclaiming springs, a - story of how one spring was reclaimed, a - sprocket wheel, b * spruce gum gathering, a - making, a marketing, a uses, a white spruce, a spruce tree seed year, a variety and characteristics, c - squabs book about, a care of, a homers as breeders, a - killing and dressing, a marketing and profit, a raising, a - record keeping, a where to get information about, a _see also_ pigeons square, steel carpenter's tool, c * metal worker's tool, m * squash food value, h insect pests, g , , planting seed, g depth to plant, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g squash (game), k squirrels as pets, k bad habits of the red squirrel, a bait for, a flying squirrels as pets, k taming, a - stabbler, sydney s. my experience with honey bees, a - stains and staining alcohol stains, value of, d applying stains, d - asphaltum, d black walnut imitation, d brown stain, c chemical composition and use, c preparing, c flemish oak, d forest green oak, d fumed oak and chestnut, process, d - golden oak finish, d gray oak, d mahogany imitation, d , , c mission oak, d natural colors versus imitation, c object of staining, d oil stain composition and use, c merits of, c , d perfect stain, d preparation of surface, c water stain advantages of, c , d composition and use, c weathered oak, d stake pin making, m - * stand pipe principle of, h staples designing and making, m - * star of bethlehem planting and blooming time, g starch boiled starch, making, h cold starch, making, h protecting, h starching clothes, h sticking to irons, to prevent, h stars effect of aerial tides, e telling points of the compass by, k time required for light to travel from, e starting box (electric), e operation of, e - * steam condensation, b dry steam, b expansion principle, b generation of, b - heat units, b - wet steam, b steam engines calipyle, b - cylinder and piston, b - * disk engine, b * governors, b - *, gyroscope, b heating principle, b hero engine, b * history of, b - , horsepower, estimating, b - noise from exhaust, reason, b , power generation and distribution, b - principle of, b - rotary, b * safety valve, b slide valve, b - * toe and lifter for valves, b * waste in power, e steam radiators as distributors of heat, e steam turbine, b steam whistles why steam is seen before whistles are heard, b steamboats development of, b _see also_ screw propeller; steam turbine steel annealing, m - bessemer steel manufacture and use of, m brazing, m carbon steel, m , case hardening, m - crucible cast steel, making, m cutting tool steel, m grades, m hardening forged fires for, m lathe tools, m solutions, m - hook, making, m - * invention of, b lanterns, making, m - * manufacturing, m oxidation, prevention of, m sockets, forging, m - * soft, m - * weldless ring, making, m * working heat, m stretching processes, m tempering, m - color scheme, m - grade of steel required, m lathe tools, m side tool, m testing for carbon, m for hardness, m tool making, m - tool steel, m welding, m wrenches, forging, m - * wrought iron versus, m _see also_ knives; tool making stenciling, n - * brushes for, n - * color schemes, d corner designs for borders, d - cutting the stencil, d , n designs, making, d - * repeating unit, d * transferring, d materials and tools, n , d outline drawing, d paints for mixing colors, n - testing, d - patterns, making from paper, n - * pillows, n *, pinning the stencil, d process, d - , n repeating and joining units, d * reversing the pattern, n stencil bands, size and purpose, d - * use in home decoration, n , washable, n water colors for, n stereopticon lamp, e * stewing, h stickseed class and seed times, g still pon no moving, k stings care of, h stitches. _see_ crocheting; embroidery; knitting; lace making; sewing stock sowing and blossoming time, g ten-weeks, characteristics, g stock breeding. _see_ breeding stockings darning, n - * stone wall for lawn, g stones. _see_ boulders; precious stones stools. _see_ foot stools storage battery. _see_ electric batteries store room in cellar, h stories brother juniper's cooking, h fire of coals, h irish stew, h king alfred and the cakes, h king's kitchen, h loaves and fishes, h the luncheon, h roast pig, h widow's cruse of oil, h storing. _see_ packing stove pipe riveting, m stoves draughts and dampers, h - laundry, h _see also_ fire making; gas range; ovens strawberries care of first-year plants, g experimenting with varieties, g - food value, h growing, g - hill culture versus matted row, g planting rules, g - soil and location, g staking the bed, g * wood ashes for fertilizer, g street cars. _see_ electric cars strength of materials nails, b - ropes, hemp and wire, b - timbers, estimating, b woods, c - * string beans cooking preparations, h food value, h planting, g striped beetle remedy for, g stump master (game), k submarine cables. _see_ cables, submarine suckers (game), k sugar food value, h sugar bush. _see_ maple sugar sugar-scoop making a wooden scoop, c * sugar-tongs silver work, m - * sumach christmas green, a summer cottage. _see_ cottages summer house building, c - * location, g making a double seat for, c - sun cooking processes, h distance from earth, b time required for light to travel from, e _see also_ tides sundial making, b - *, g - * setting up, g - sun time versus clock time, g sunflower double, characteristics, g food for squirrels, g late, characteristics, g , planting seed, g sowing and blossoming time, g swages blacksmith tools, m * swallows migration, k swans varieties, k swastika inlaying design on wood, c , * swedish drawn work. _see_ hardanger embroidery sweeping carpets and rugs, h sweet alyssum characteristics, g , planting seeds, g , sweet clover and sweet fern leaves for sachet, a sweet flag characteristics, g sweet grass basket making, a sweet lavender, g sweet pea characteristics, g , sweet potato food value, h sweet sultan characteristics, g sweet william biennial, g characteristics, g , swimming accidents, k artificial supports, k breast stroke, k dangers, avoiding, k diving, k * dog stroke, k fancy stroke, k girls as swimmers, k learning how, k - on the back, k overhand or overarm strokes, k pool, artificial cost, a in back yard, a - keeping water fresh, a pool, book about, a pool, natural damming of stream, a - strokes, k - , - value as exercise, k swine, a - book about, a brood sow care of, a - selecting, a cleanliness, a fattening, a feeding young pigs, a pen, building, a profit in raising, a sycamore characteristics, c sycamore maple. _see_ maple symbols. _see_ signals syrup. _see_ molasses; maple sugar and syrup t table linen care of, h ironing, h marking, n table runner block printing, d - designs, d - materials, d weaving, d - tables checkerboard table, making, c * dining table design, d * drawing table, making, c - fastening table tops to prevent warping, d * kitchen, h library table design, d * heavy, design and construction, d - * light, design and construction, d - * mission style, making, c - * wood finish, d picnic tables, making, b - polished, care of, h round centre table design and construction, d - * wood finish, d tea table, mission style, making, c - * _see also_ setting the table tabourette, c - *, g - circular top, making, c - * estimating lumber for, c hexagonal top, c - * mission style, making, c - * moorish design, c - * octagonal top, making, c * working drawings, c , * tag (game), k last tag, k warning, k wood tag, k tamarack. _see_ larch tanager migration, k tanning skins, a , - tantalum lamp metal filament, e tapes sewing on, n * tapestry weaving, n - tapioca food value, h tarnish on brass preventing, m tarpon catching, k tea camp cooking, k tea caddy brass work, m - * tea kettle iron work stand for, making, m - * tea pot stand copper, d - * tea pots care of, h tea spoons. _see_ spoons tea stains, h teeter-tauter principle of, b telegraph invention and development, e - key, e * morse code reading, e poles, use of glass knobs, e relay, e - * signals, how produced, e - * sounders, operation of, e wires, insulation, e _see also_ cables; submarine; wireless telegraph telephone, e - automatic registering device, e bells magnets for ringing, e - operation of, e burning out of the coil, e central battery system, e current in telephone circuit, e double metallic circuit, first used, e electric spark coil, e - history of, e - lightning arrester, e * music transmitted by, e pole, equipment, e receiver as switch and circuit, e construction and action, e - * operating by induced current, e - principle of, e - * vibrator, e - resistance in the circuit, e - simple telephone system, e - * sounds, how produced, e , - transmitter, construction, e - vibrations of disks, e volume of business in , e wires installation, e use of ground wire, e telescope water telescope, k telharmonium, e - temperature. _see_ thermometers tempering hand hammers, m , knives, m lathe tools, m , steel, m - teneriffe lace, n * tennis, k - * court tennis, k girl's sports, k hand tennis, k "love", k playing the game, k - racket how to hold, k * selecting, k scoring, k stroke, k tether tennis, k tennis court accessories, making, c - * back stop, making, c - * dimensions and directions, c , k - * drainage, k grass versus clay, k , laying out, c - * making and caring for, a - marker, home made, a marking, k - * net, putting up, c post for net, placing and preserving, c surfacing and leveling, k tents "a" tent, k * brush lean-to, k * indian tepee, k * lean-to, k , * trapper's tent, k * wall tent, k * tetanus cause of, b tether ball, k tether tennis, k thermometers centigrade scale, b changing one scale into another, b - fahrenheit scale, b history and purpose, b scales in use, b - theory of, b thermostat, electric, e thimble how to use, n * thimbleberry description of, a jam, receipt, a picking, a thistle canada, class and seed time, g russian, class and seed time, g thorn apple, a thrasher, brown insect destroyer, a migration, k thrush migration, k thunder weather symbol for thunder storm, b why thunder is heard last, b tides, b - aerial, b cause of, b - ebb and flow, b elevations, changes in, b - height, b lakes, b lunar, b - moon's distance from the meridian, effect of, b - neap tides, b open seas, b rivers and channels, b sir isaac newton's theory, b - solar, b - , spring tides, b - theory of, b - * time, changes in, b - tidiness meaning of, h ties irish crochet, n - * tile drains. _see_ drainage tiles cleaning, h decoration of, d fireplace tiles, d - for kitchen floors, h making, d - * tea tiles, d * uses, d _see also_ drainage timber. _see_ building; lumber; strength of materials; trees; wood time day and night, cause of, b division of, b tin kitchen utensils, h _see also_ soldering tinker's dam, b tip cat drawing and making, c - titmouse insect destroyer, a toad book about, a enemy to cut worm, k garden pest destroyer, g , a taming, a toasters, electric, e tobacco jar copper work, m - * tobogganing, k toilet boxes. _see_ box making toilet closets. _see_ closets, toilet toilet fixtures care of, h , , tomato dwarf champion, g food value, h indoor planting time, g insect pests, g , peeling tomatoes, h planting seed depth and distance to plant, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g removing ink stains with, h seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g germination period, g staking the vines, g starting and transplanting, g - vines, overgrowth of, g tommy tiddler's land (game), k tongs blacksmith's tools, m *, fire tools, making, m - * iron tongs, making, m - * tongue and groove joints, c * tongue grafting. _see_ grafting tool boxes and chests, c - *, - * old-fashioned chest, c - * suit case design, c - * tool making, m - * boring tool, m * cape chisel, m * centre punch, m * cold chisel, m *, crowbars, m * cutting off tool, m * diamond point, m * dividers, m - * drills, m - * eccentric strap, m * fire screen, m * fire tools, m - * hammers, m *, - * hardening, m - hardie, m * hoe, m - * hot chisel, m * lathe tools, m - nail puller or claw tool, m * pitch fork, m * rock drills, m - * round nose, m set hammer, m * shovel, m - * side point, m steel for, m stone chisel, m - * stone pick, m * tempering steel for, m - tongs, iron, m - wood chisel, m - wrenches, steel, m - _see also_ forging; steel; welding tooled leather. _see_ leather work tools anvil stake, m * beck iron, m burners, m - * calipers, m chisels, m , *, * dividers, m * using, m * draw plate, m *, , drills, m * enameling tools, m face plate, m files, m * fullers, m * gouges, m graver, m hack saw, c hammer, m * hand hammer, m * peen, m * set hammer, m * hardie, m *, * jewelers' snips, m * leather work tools, d - *, n *, * mallet, wooden, m * mandrel, m matt tool, m pin, m pitch block, m planishing hammer, using, m * pliers, m * pottery modeling tools, d - principle of the inclined plane applied to, b punch, m *, * ring mandrel, m * riveting tool, m * sand bag, m saw frame, m * scraper, m screw principle, b shaping tools, m * shears, m * shovel, m *, sledge, m snarling iron, m soldering outfit, m - * square, steel, m *, c * stake and riveting tool, m swages, m * tracer, m tongs, m *, vise, m *, *, * wedge, principle of, b - * wooden block, m *, * using, m * _see also_ carpentry and woodwork--tools and appliances; chisels; drilling and boring tools; gardening--tools; hammers; tool boxes; tool making; wedge; wrenches topping plants, g , - tops plug in the ring, k towel rack making a wooden rack, c * towel roller making a wooden roller, c - * towels marking, n toy making, c - aeroplanes, c - * boat in a storm, c - * designing moving toys, c - * dog house, c * electric engine, e * electric spinner, e * electric train operated by wireless outfit, e - * fencers, c - * happy jack windmill, c * indian paddlers, c - * moving toys, c - cautions, c method of procedure, c - * racing automobile, c - * sawyers, c - * turkey and executioner, c - * wooden boxes, c * _see also_ kites toys giving away, h inventions and discoveries, h tracer metal worker's tool, m track athletics all round championship, k best college record, k intercollegiate contest events, k olympic games, events, k one hundred yard dash, best record, k scoring in all round championship, k trained animals. _see_ animals transferring embroidery patterns, n - stencil designs, d transplanting. _see_ vegetable gardening; also names of plants, e. g., beets; lettuce, etc. trapping, a - baiting traps, a carrot bait, a * for muskrats, a books about, a box traps, a *, c * deadfall trap, a , , c * gophers, a * land animals, a mink, a - moles, a - muskrats, a - , profit and recreation in, a rabbits, a - rats, a - river trapping, a rules of the game, a - skunks, a - snares, c * with carrot bait, a * steel jaw traps, setting, a steel traps, cruelty of, a stop-thief traps, a - * traps, humane and inhuman, a swamp trapping, a water animals, a weasel, a - woodchucks, a traps (plumbing) construction and purpose, h , defective, reason and remedy, h location, h , trash disposal of, h trays gouge work, c - * _see also_ copper work tread-mill training dogs to run, a - mechanism, b * trees age, how to tell, c broad leaved, c - , - compound leaves, c * doubly compound, c * maple, c - oak, c - simple leaves, c * cambium layer, a classification and characteristics, c - coniferous trees, names and characteristics, c - cutting down, art of, k - * danger of roots to cement walks, b growth process, c heart wood versus sap wood, c identifying, a , planting directions, g - playhouse in a tree, h products of, c qualities of different varieties, k rings, meaning, c selecting and planting, g - seeds for propagation gathering, a - ripening and drying, a treatment, where to get information, a table describing, g _see also_ forestry; fruit trees; grafting; landscape gardening; lumber and lumbering; nuts; pruning; wood; also names of trees, e. g., maple; oak; pine, etc. trellises, d - * trench. _see_ cement walk; drainage; gardening trestle. _see_ saw horse triangles (tools) making, c - * trick joints, c * trilliums habits and characteristics, g trimmings. _see_ crocheting triplane, b trolling, k * trophy stick, notched, c * trout bait, k , culture from eggs, a feeding, a reclaiming the trout stream, a - trout lily, g truck garden. _see_ vegetable gardening trumpet vine decorative value, g t-square, c * making, c - * to prevent warping, c tub racing, k tubs. _see_ bathtubs; laundry tucking, n * tulip cone developer, g planting bulbs indoors, g red, planting and blooming time, g tree, characteristics, c varieties, g white, planting and blooming time, g yellow, planting and blooming time, g tungsten lamp cost of, e *, metal filaments, e turbines fourneyron, b * jonval, b * steam, b water, b turkey book about, a breeds, a enemies, lice and wet, a feeding young turkeys, a , food value, h habits of turkey hen, a hatching, time required, a laying and sitting habits, a raising, a - selection of, for cooking, h turn spit dog, b turnip food value, h planting seed depth and distance to plant, g quantity to plant, g time to plant, g seed age for planting, g germination per cent., g , germination period, g soil, g turnip-root cabbage planting, g turpentine moth exterminator, h paint stain remover, h turtle head characteristics, g where found, g turtles taming, a typewriter alignment, b "blind" writer, b carbon copying device, b card indexing device, b carriage, b , interchangeable, b *, mechanism of, b disconnecting parts, b double shift, b duplicators, b - essential features, b - invention of, b keyboard, b , , , universal, b kinds, b line-spacing mechanism, b , noiseless operation, b oliver, mechanical principle, b - * paper feed, b platen essentials, b interchangeable, b remington description of parts and their uses, b - * improvements, b - ribbon movement, b ribbons, two and three colors, b , , scales, b semi-visible writers, b single shift, b smith-premier, b - *, spacing bar, b tabulator, b - type cleaning, b cleaning device, b mechanism, b , , , , visible writers, b work done by, b u u-tube, theory of, h - umbrella handles woods and roots for, a - umbrella stand design and construction, d - * iron work, m mission design, c * wood finish, d unleavened bread nutriment, h upsetting. _see_ forging upstairs work, h - utensils. _see_ kitchen utensils v vacuum cleaner electric, e * home made, b - * plunger pump, making, b - * power driven, home made, b - * principle of, e using, b water motor, b * valerian characteristics, g vane. _see_ weather vane varnish and varnishing drying, time required, d - dull finish, d flat finish, d grades of varnish, c method of using, b , c number of coats needed, d quality of varnish, recognizing, d rubbing down process, d "sag" and how corrected, d - vase brass work, m - * concrete garden vase, making, d - * pottery, making, d - * typical flower holders, d - * veal as chicken, h cuts and their uses, h food value: table, h vegetable gardening, g - combinations for late planting, g indoor and outdoor planting time, g - intermingling from close planting, g money making garden, g - planting tables age for planting, g depth and distance, g germination per cent., g germination time, g quantity to plant, g seeds, selling, g - selling young plants, g - transplanting, g - from the coldframe, g - strawberry boxes for, g _see also_ coldframe; drainage; fertilizers and manures; gardening; herbs; hotbed; insect pests; plant food; plants; soils; also names of vegetables, e.g., beans; cabbage; carrot, etc. vegetables boiling, h burning, treatment, h camp cooking, k , cleaning, h cooking, h preparation for, h - with left overs, h dandelion greens, a exhibits, preparation for, g food value, h , husking, h peeling, h pokeweed roots, cooking, a preparation for selling, g scraping, h seasoning, h selection of, for cooking, h shelling, h soaking, h stewing, h _see also_ names of vegetables; e. g., cauliflower; parsnip; pumpkin; etc. verbena characteristics, g planting, g village improvement books about, a what boys and girls can do, a - vinegar cider vinegar book about, a making, a - "mother," meaning, a vinegar cruet washing, h vines annuals, g climbers, g for covering fences and buildings, g scarlet runner bean, g training, g use in landscape gardening, g violet california, characteristics, g habits and characteristics, g , insect pests, g russian, characteristics, g tufted, characteristics, g where to plant, g wild varieties, g vireos insect destroyers, a migration, k virginia creeper decorative value, g vise bench vise, m *, *, * quick action, c voisin's biplane, b - * volley ball, k volta, alessandro, e perfected method for producing electricity by chemical action, e voltmeter for direct and alternating currents, e measuring electric pressure, e - multipliers, e principle and operation, e - * w waists. _see_ dressmaking waiting on table. _see_ meals--serving waitress dress, h duties, h - wake robin, g walking healthfulness of, k - walking stick carved by the engraver beetle, a orange wood, a roots for handles, a shaping, a walks. _see_ cement walk; garden paths wall brackets. _see_ brackets wall cabinet. _see_ medicine cabinet wall flower characteristics, g wall paper. _see_ walls wall rack. _see_ book rack wallachian embroidery drawing scallops, n meaning of, n stitch, n * walls care of, h cleaning appliances, h cleaning wall paper, h decoration of, d , - , n dry cleaning, h how to drive nails into plaster walls, c kitchen, h paneled walls, cleaning, h _see also_ embankments; paper hanging walnut black characteristics of tree, c imitation stain, c , d device for husking, a drying and storing nuts, a food value of nuts, h receipt for pickled walnuts, a - white, characteristics of tree, c wandering jew window box plants, g warbler insect destroyer, a wardrobe. _see_ closets, clothes warning (game), k warp. _see_ weaving wash board and wash boiler care of, h washing. _see_ laundry work washing dishes. _see_ dish washing washington (game), k washington thorn, a washstands cleaning, h used as playhouse, h wasps development from the egg, a - feeding grub, a habits, a - waste classification, h disposal of in country, h in cities, h - waste pipes care of, h construction principle, h - disinfection in cleaning, h misuse of, h waste water disposal of, h in country, h watch fob copper and enamel, d - * silver or copper work, m - * watches balance and spring, b geneva stop, b * magnetized, b - mechanism, b , non-magnetic, b regulators, b - *, testing for magnetism, b watchman's time detector, e * water boiling point, h cold water as a preserver, h substitute for milk, h water and bog plants table, g water bugs, h water bulbs. _see_ bulbs water closets. _see_ closets, toilet water fowl, k water garden, g water glass egg preservative, a water life, k - collector's net, k * telescope for observing, k water lilies table, g water meter vibrating trough, b * water mint characteristics, g water motor. _see_ water wheels water pipes. _see_ plumbing; waste pipes water polo, k water power estimating, e from a continuous fall of water, b * reclaiming a spring, a - _see also_ water supply; water wheels water race, k water seal construction and purpose, h water supply importance of source, h principle of the tower, h spring water, a summer camp devices, e - theory of u-tube in waterworks, h - water tank. _see also_ pumps; water wheels; wells electric warning for empty tank, e * water tax economizing bills, h water wheels ancient, b * archimedian screw principle, b * barker or reaction, b * breast wheel, b * governors, b - * overshot, b *, undershot, b * vacuum cleaner motor, b volate, b * _see also_ turbines water works. _see_ water supply watermelon food value, h germination per cent., g planting, g watt, james inventor, e watt unit of power, b _see also_ kilowatt wattmeter, e - illustration of motor principle, e measuring watt hours, e - registering amount of electricity used, e - wax bayberry dips, a - grafting, g making beeswax, a wood finish, c , d - _see also_ floors wax beans, g wax myrtle, a - waxwings insect destroyers, a weasel colors of fur, a habits, a weather records, how made, b - symbols, b - _see also_ barometer; rain; thermometer; weather vane; wind weather boarding. _see_ house framing weather vane making, c - * zeppelin airship weather vane, making, c * weathered oak finish, d weathering meaning, b weaving, d - , n - bordered table scarf, d - color effects, n - curtains and draperies, d - dowel, n dyeing, materials for, d - french as weavers, n hand loom bridge, n description of treadle loom, d - * home-made, without treadle, n - primitive loom, d setting, d - , n - shuttle and bobbin, d * shuttle for woof cloth, d simple cardboard loom, n materials to use, n pattern weaving, d - drawing in the pattern, d - * hit-and-miss pattern, n operation of the harnesses, d - pick, d * variations in patterns, d , portieres and couch covers, d - process, d - , n - beating up the woof, d , n drawing in the warp, d , n pairing threads, n preparing the warp, d , n warping the loom, d , n rattan mats, n *, rugs, d - , n - harmonizing effects, n tapestry designs, n warp and woof, d , n - * warping hook, d * _see also_ braiding wedge cutting tool, c principle of, b - * rule for power, b weeds, g - annuals, destroying, g biennials, destroying, g book about, a definition of, a destroying and preventing, a - , g - distribution of seeds, g foreign, g good points, g medicinal, a - , g book about, a perennials, destroying, g - propagation seeds, g trailing branches, g table of, g test of acid soil, g weevils chestnut weevil, a weigela characteristics, g weight principle of lifting, b - * weights and measures english versus metric system: tables, c , tables, h units of measurement, c , _see also_ electric measurements welding, m - * built-up work, m butt welds, m * definition of, m , chains, m - * cleft weld, m * corner plate, m * electric, e - flat welds, m - * flat welds and t-welds, m - * horse shoes, m iron oxidation, preventing, m iron ring, m - *, * iron tongs, m - * jump weld, m - * kinds, m lap weld, m * scarfing, m - *, * a wrench, m * socket wrenches, m - * t weld, m - * temperature of fire, m - tool steel to wrought iron, m turn buckles, m * upsetting, m * wells location and care, h _see also_ pumps western union telegraph company equipment and amount of business, e whale oil soap spray for insects, g , wheat depth to plant seeds, g wheel and axle principle of, b , - * rule for power, b wheel-barrow leverage principle, b making, b - * wheels mechanical movements, b - * _see also_ screw propeller; turbines; water wheels whip grafting. _see_ grafting whisk broom raffia, n * white pine. _see_ pine white rabbit. _see_ rabbit whitewash preparing surface walls, h preparing the lime, h - value for cellar walls, h whittling, c - beveling, c calendar back, c * curves, cutting, c * cutting out process, c * drawing the design, c * first lessons in, c - * fish line winder, c * key rack, c - * key tags, c * knife kind to use, c * method of holding, c * paper knife, c - * picture frames, c - * propeller blades, c - * sand papering edges, c testing with the try square, c * tip cat, c - * weather vane making, c - * windmills, c - * woods for, c worsted winder, c * _see also_ wood carving wicket polo, k wicks trimming, h widow's cruse of oil: story, h wild animals. _see_ animals wild carrot class and seed time, g seed distribution, g wild crabapple, a , wild flower gardening april, june and july blooms, g - decorative value of wild flowers, a landscape gardening, g late blooms, g march blooms, g may blooms, g planning and care, g soil, g , succession of bloom, g - transplanting, g wild flowers. _see_ flowers wild fowl. _see_ game and game birds; water fowl wild geranium characteristics, g wild grapes. _see_ grapes wild nuts list of, a wild plums "goin' plummin'", a - wild raspberries, a wild rice, a - winch setting up, b - * uses, b - wind. _see_ winds wind break trees for, g , wind flower, g wind root, g , windlass principle of, b - * windmill common windmill, b * happy jack weather vane, c - * horizontal weather vane, c - * six-bladed weather vane, c - zeppelin weather vane, c * window-box advantages over pots, g construction and painting, g - crowding plants in, g draining, g how to fasten to window, g selection of plants for sunny and shady windows, g - window seat for girl's room, n windows batten blinds, c cleaning, h details of window frames, d * hanging, c inside trim, c * location of cellar windows, h setting frames, c winds measuring device, b - * table of velocity, b _see also_ weather vane; windmill winter sports, k - * clothing and footwear, k - * winterberries description of, a wire reducing size of, m _see also_ electric wires wire ropes. _see_ rope wireless club, e - wireless telegraph accidents prevented by, e , - aerials, e amateur stations, e antennæ, e * c. q. d. message, meaning, e coherer circuit, e * construction, e - * discovery, e electric bell as transmitter, e operated by wireless, e * ether waves, e fireworks, operated by, e - * first company organized, e first practical use, e first public stations, e ground wire, e hertzian waves, e incandescent lamps operated by, e * law requiring use on steamers, e morse alphabet, e operation of a simple type, e - * relay, e - sending messages to ocean steamers, e signal code, e spark coil, construction, e - * tapper, e - * toy train operated by, e - * trans-atlantic messages first sent, e wistaria decorative value, g witch hazel characteristics, g wolf and sheep (game), k women heritage of, h - home making power, h wood best woods for special purposes, k decay, cause of, c durability, c - hard wood, c , k beech, c black jack or barren oak, c black or sweet birch, c black or yellow oak, c bur oak (mossy cup), c chestnut oak, c cypress, c elm, white or american, c georgia pine, c holly, c honey locust, c hop hornbeam, ironwood, c hornbeam, or blue birch, c larch, c laurel oak, c locust, black and yellow, c paper birch, c pin oak, c post or iron oak, c red birch, c red elm, slippery elm, c red oak, c red or swamp maple, c red pine, c rock, cork elm, c silver, or white maple, c sugar maple, c swamp white oak, c tamarack, c white oak, c willow oak, c yellow birch, c yellow pine, c preservation, c - soft wood, c , k arbor vitæ, c balsam, c basswood, linden, c black spruce, c box elder, c buckeye, c fir, c gray, or aspen-leaved birch, c hemlock, c moosewood, c mountain maple, c pitch pine, c red cedar, c red spruce, c white cedar, c white pine, c white spruce, c strength of, c - * _see also_ forestry; kindling wood; trees wood anemone habits and characteristics, g wood carving black and white design, c blotter pads, designs, c - chip carving, c - * curved cutting, c - designs elliptical, c - for borders, c - * for centres, c - * for corners, c * flat work, c - * glove box design, c holding the knife, c * key rack designs, c , knives for carving, c * letter racks, designs, c - origin, c paper knife, c - * pencil box, c - * penholder, c - * picture frames, c - * polishing, c triangular cutting, c - veining, c * woods for, c wood finishing aging wood, c antique finish, c cleaning, the first step, d colors, obtaining, c dead flat surface, c dull finish, d enameling white, d fillers, c cost of surfacing, d liquid, formula, d importance of, d - paste, formula, d applying, d when to use liquids or paste, d flat finish, d polishing, c - process, c - re-finishing old furniture, d - mahogany table, d - rubbing down process, d scraping, d shellac, using, c , d - varnish, removing, d wax finish, d - , c white enamel, d white wood, d woods that do and do not require fillers, c _see also_ stains and staining; varnish and varnishing wood fire. _see_ fires wood lot clearing for kindling wood, a wood screws strength of, b wood staining. _see_ stains and staining wood tag, k woodchucks taming, a trapping, a woodcraft, k - * axemanship, k - getting lost, k - land marks, k lost signals, k _see also_ trees woodpecker insect destroyer, a , k woodwork. _see_ carpentry and woodwork woof. _see_ weaving wool combing machine roller motion, b * woolen clothes laundering, h storing, h work. _see_ housekeeping; occupations work bag and sewing apron combined, n - work bench. _see_ carpentry work shop garden tool making, g - * _see also_ carpentry worms fish bait, k wren insect destroyer, a migration, k wrench alligator wrench, making, m * flat wrought iron wrench, making, m - * forging, m - * hardie for, m * socket wrench, m - * welding, m - wringer for laundry work, h writing desk. _see_ desk wrought iron making, m - steel versus, m x x-ray ether waves, e physiological effect, e y yachts flag signals, b - _see also_ launch yeast principle in bread making, h - young, sir thomas ether wave theory of light, e z zeppelin's dirigible balloon, b zinnia characteristics, g planting, g selecting seeds, g * * * * * transcriber's notes: corrected obvious typos and inconsistencies, otherwise spelling has been left as printed. a small amount of inconsistent hyphenation left as printed. p. . dilletantism -> dilettantism. p. . bisulphid -> bisulphide. the following corrections have been made after referrence to the relevant book. p. . 'wall rack, designing and making, c - *, d - *' corrected to 'wall rack, designing and making, c - *, d - *'. p. . crum tray -> crumb tray. p. . 'experiments with spark coil, e , - , - *' changed to 'experiments with spark coil, e , - , - *'. p. . 'cooper or brass, metal work, m *' changed to 'copper or brass, metal work, m *'. p. . crum scraper -> crumb scraper. p. . reamur is correctly spelt reaumur but has been left as it was spelt in 'mechanics'. this book is a summary and index to the following books which can all be found in the project gutenberg collection. in the html version of this text, links are made to the other volumes, though for volumes g and k it has only been possible to a link to the correct chapter. a--outdoor work project gutenberg e-book b--mechanics, indoors and out project gutenberg e-book c--carpentry and woodwork project gutenberg e-book d--home decoration project gutenberg e-book e--electricity project gutenberg e-book g--gardening project gutenberg e-book h--housekeeping project gutenberg e-book k--outdoor sports project gutenberg e-book m--working in metals project gutenberg e-book n--needlecraft project gutenberg e-book entertainments for home, church and school by frederica seeger edited by theodore waters entertainments for home, church and school contents chapter i--household games and amusements going shopping, hit or miss, game of rhymes, most improbable story, animated art, guessing character, tongue twisters. chapter ii--household games and amusements french rhymes, ant and cricket, a spoonful of fun, how, when and where, grandfather's trunk, predicaments, auction, beast, bird or fish, rotating globe, etc. chapter iii--household games and amusements flags of all nations, game of words, prince of india, exchange, shadow buff, old family coach, the tailless donkey. chapter iv--household games and amusements magic music, cushion dance, animal blind man's buff, musical instruments, my lady's toilet, going to jerusalem. chapter v--household games and amusements tortoise, lemon pig, seasick passengers, enchanted raisins, family giant, animated telescope, etc. chapter vi--household games and amusements the what do you think, knight of the whistle, "can do little," throwing light. chapter vii--church and school socials charades, "cicero," "attenuate," suggested words, "metaphysician," charades on the grecian islands. chapter viii--church and school socials living pictures, tableaux, dignity and impudence, sailor's farewell, home again, various tableaux. chapter ix--church and school socials wax works gallery, mrs. jarley's collection, chinese giant, two-headed girl, captain kidd, celebrated dwarf, yankee cannibal, etc. chapter x--church and school socials art exhibitions, list of exhibitors, "artists," curiosities, explanations, suggestions. chapter xi--optical illusions raising the ghost, magic lantern pictures, phantasmagoria, chinese shadows, wonderful mirror, multiplied money. chapter xii--table games for adults dominoes, backgammon, checkers, jenkins, zoo, stray syllables, chess. chapter xiii--outdoor games for adults lawn tennis, polo, hockey, golf, archery, ring toss, lawn bowls. chapter xiv--holiday games and amusements new years, lincoln's day, valentine party, easter egg party, hallowe'en games, flag day, thanksgiving, christmas. chapter xv--outdoor games for girls basket ball, box ball, guess ball, target ball, string ball. chapter xvi--pastimes for children sun dial, mother, may i play? blind man's buff, tug of war, various ball games. chapter xvii--indoor games for young children patch work, peanut game, soap bubbles, candy pulls, cook and peas, magic music, zoology. chapter xviii--outdoor games for young children bean bag games, skipping the rope, various tag games, crossing the brook. chapter xix--singing games for children moon and stars, bologna man, orchestra, jack be nimble, oats, peas, beans, farmer in the dell, london bridge, etc. chapter xx--games of arithmetic thought numbers, mystical nine, magic hundred, king and counselor, horse shoe nails, dinner party puzzle, baskets and stones, etc. chapter xxi--one hundred conundrums witty questions, facetious puzzles, ready answers, entertaining play upon words. introduction. games are meant to amuse, but in addition to amusing, a good game, played in the right spirit, may have great educational value. now, this is distinctly a book of _games and amusements_. there are games for indoors, scores of them, while there are other scores that can be enjoyed only in the open. when young folks, and older folks, too, for that matter, meet for a pleasant evening, it is rather depressing to have them sit solemnly on stiff chairs in the company room and stare helplessly at one another, like folks awaiting a funeral service. now, if there is present, and there usually is, a bright girl, who knows the games in this book, and she starts in to "get the ball a-rolling," all will soon be enjoying themselves better than if they were watching a three-ring circus. and then the volleys of wholesome laughter that will roll out--why, they will be better for the digestion than all the medicines of all the doctors. it will be noticed that some of the outdoor games, and others devised for indoors, require some apparatus, like tennis and croquet, or back-gammon boards and magic lanterns, but the majority need only the company, and--let it be added--the disposition to have a good time. within the covers of "entertainments for home, church, and school," you will find condensed and clearly set forth the best of a library of books on amusements. entertainments for home, church and school chapter i household games and amusements going shopping--hit or miss--game of rhymes--most improbable story-- animated art--guessing characters--tongue twisters going shopping a lively game of "talk and touch." the company is seated in a circle, and one who understands the game commences by saying to his neighbor at the right: "i have been shopping." "what did you buy?" is the required response. "a dress," "a book," "some flowers," "a pencil"--whatever the first speaker wishes, provided always that he can, in pronouncing the word, touch the object mentioned. then the second player addresses his neighbor in similar manner, and so on around the circle until the secret of the game is discovered by all. whoever mentions an object without touching it, or names one that has already been given, pays a forfeit. lighting the candle this feat is a very amusing one, and is performed as follows: two persons kneel on the ground, facing each other. each holds in his left hand a candle in a candlestick, at the same time grasping his right foot in his right hand. this position compels him to balance himself on his left knee. one of the candles is lighted; the other is not. the holders are required to light the unlighted candle from the lighted one. the conditions are simple enough, but one would hardly believe how often the performers will roll over on the floor before they succeed in lighting the candle. it will be found desirable to spread a newspaper on the floor between the combatants. many spots of candle-grease will thus be intercepted, and the peace of mind of the lady of the house proportionately spared. hit or miss great amusement is excited by this game when played in the presence of a company of guests. spread a sheet upon the floor and place two chairs upon it. seat two of the party in the chairs within reach of each other and blindfold them. give each a saucer of cracker or bread crumbs and a spoon, then request them to feed each other. the frantic efforts of each victim to reach his fellow sufferer's mouth is truly absurd--the crumbs finding lodgment in the hair, ears and neck much oftener than the mouth. sometimes bibs are fastened around the necks of the victims for protection. cross questions the company is divided into two equal parts and blank cards and pencils are distributed. one side writes questions on any subject desired, while the other prepares in like manner a set of haphazard answers. the question cards are then collected and distributed to the players on the other side, while their answer are divided among the questioners. the leader holding a question then reads it aloud, the first player on the other side reading the answer he holds. some of the answers are highly amusing. the game of rhymes a variation of the former game. the game is begun by a young lady or gentleman speaking a single line, to which the next nearest on the left must respond with another line to rhyme with the first. the next player gives a new line, of the same length, and the fourth supplies a rhyme in turn, and so on. the game is provocative of any amount of fun and nonsense. a sample may be given: st player.--i think i see a brindle cow. d player.--it's nothing but your dad's bow-wow. rd. player.--he is chasing our black tommy cat. th player.--poor puss had best get out of that, etc. any amount of nonsense may be indulged in a game of this sort, within proper limits. clever players can easily give the game a most interesting turn and provoke rhymes that are original and witty. thus, a subject once started, every phase of it may be touched upon before the round closes. the most improbable story the players are seated in a circle and are provided with pencils and paper. it is then announced that this is a competition, and that the one who writes the most improbable story in fifteen minutes wins a prize. the allotted time being up, the papers are collected and re-distributed so that each players receives another player's story. the stories are then read aloud and a committee decides which is the most improbable story. a prize is usually given the writer of this. animated art a picture is selected showing a group of individuals and portraying some historical incident or event illustrative of the affairs of every-day life. the performers make up, each one to represent some character in the picture. out of their number some one is chosen to act as stage manager and he poses the figures. two rooms with folding-doors, or one room divided by a curtain, are required for this representation. a reflection, or footlight, will enhance the beauty of the picture. guessing characters one of the party leaves the room, while the others decide upon some character, real or fictitious. the absentee is then recalled, and each in turn asks him a question referring to the character he has been elected to represent. when he guesses his identity, the player whose question has thrown the most light upon the subject has to go from the room. for example: a goes from the room, and the company decides that he shall represent king henry viii. when he enters, no. asks: "which one of your wives did you love best?" no. says: "do you approve of a man marrying his deceased brother's wife?" no. adds: "were you very sorry your brother died?" etc., while a, after guessing various names, is led by some question to guess correctly, and the fortunate questioner is consequently sent from the room to have a new character assigned him in turn. who is my neighbor? one-half the company is blindfolded; these are then seated in such a way that each has a vacant chair at his right hand. the other half of the players gather in the middle of the room. this is done silently. the unblindfolded players will each one take one of the empty seats next to those who are blindfolded. when requested to speak or sing they must do so. it is permissible to disguise the voice. the blindfolded neighbor must guess who is speaking or singing. the bandages are not taken off until the wearer has guessed correctly the name of the person at his right. when he guesses correctly, the one whose name was guessed is blindfolded and takes the guesser's place. the leader gives a signal, and the players who are unblindfolded walk softly to a vacant chair. the leader then plays a familiar air on an instrument, and says, "sing!" all must sing until he suddenly stops playing. the guessing goes on as before until the leader decides to stop it. tongue-twisters--any number of players the amusing game of tongue-twisters is played thus: the leader gives out a sentence (one of the following), and each repeats it in turn, any player who gets tangled up in the pronunciation having to pay forfeit. a haddock! a haddock! a black-spotted haddock, a black spot on the black back of the black-spotted haddock. she sells sea shells. she stood at the door of mr. smith's fish-sauce shop, welcoming him in. the sea ceaseth and it sufficeth us. six thick thistle sticks. the flesh of freshly fried flying fish. a growing gleam glowing green. i saw esau kissing kate, the fact we all three saw, i saw esau, he saw me, and she saw i saw esau. swan swam over the sea; swim, swan, swim; swan swam back again; well swum, swan. you snuff ship snuff, i snuff box snuff. the bleak breeze blighted the bright broom blossoms. high roller, low roller, rower. oliver oglethorp ogled an owl and oyster. did oliver oglethorp ogle an owl and oyster? if oliver oglethorp ogled an owl and oyster, where are the owl and oyster oliver oglethorp ogled? hobbs meets snobbs and nobbs; hobbs bobs to snobbs and nobbs; hobbs nobs with snobbs and robs nobbs' fob. "that is," says nobbs, "the worse for hobbs' jobs," and snobbs sobs. susan shines shoes and socks; socks and shoes shine susan. she ceaseth shining shoes and socks, for shoes and socks shocks susan. robert royley rolled a round roll round; a round roll robert rowley rolled round. where rolled the round roll robert rowley rolled round? strict, strong stephen stringer snared slickly six sickly, silky snakes. the leith police dismisseth us. she sun shines upon shop signs. chapter ii french rhymes--ant and cricket--spoonful of fun--how, when and where-- grandfather's trunk--predicaments--auction--beast, bird, or fish--rotating globe button, button the players sit around the room in a circle. the leader then holds a button between his hands, with the palms pressed together, so as to hide it. he goes around the circle, passing his hand between those of the players. as he does this, he says: "hold fast to what i give you." he is careful not to let the players see into whose hands he passed the button. the circuit having been made, the leader says to the first player: "button, button, who has the button?" the one questioned must answer, naming some one whom he thinks has it. so it continues until all have had a turn at answering the same question. then the leader says: "button, button, rise!" the button holder must do this. french rhymes each member of the company writes upon a slip of paper two words that rhyme. these are collected by one player and read aloud, and as they are read everybody writes them down upon new papers. five or ten minutes being allowed, each player must write a poem introducing all the rhyming words in their original pairs. at the expiration of the given time the lines are read aloud. suppose the words given are "man and than," "drops and copse," "went and intent," etc., these are easily framed into something like this: once on a time a brooklet drops, with splash and clash, through a shady copse; one day there chanced to pass a man, who, deeming water better than cider, down by the brooklet went, to dip some up was his intent. of course, the result is nonsense, but it is pleasant nonsense, and may be kept up indefinitely, to the entertainment of the participants. consequences the players are each provided with a slip of paper and a pencil. each must write the name of some gentleman (who is known to the party), turn down the end of the paper on which the name is written, and pass the paper to the next neighbor. all must then write the name of some lady (also known), then change the papers again and write "where they met," "what he said," "what she said," "what the world said," and "the consequences," always passing the papers on. when all are written, each player must then read his paper. mr. jones . . . . . . . . . and miss smith . . . . . . . . . met on a roof . . . . . . . . . he said, "i trust you are not afraid." she said, "not while you are here." world said, "it's a match." consequences, "he sailed for africa next morning," etc. ant and cricket one of the company being appointed to represent the cricket, seats himself in the midst of the other players, who are the ants, and writes upon a piece of paper the name of a certain grain, whatever kind he pleases. he then addresses the first ant: "my dear neighbor, i am very hungry, and i have come to you for aid. what will you give me!" "a grain of rice, a kernel of corn, a worm," etc., replies the ant, as he sees fit. the cricket asks each in turn, and if one of them announces as his gift the word already written upon the paper, the cricket declares himself satisfied and changes places with the ant. a spoonful of fun this is a german game. one of the players goes into the middle of a ring formed by the other players. he is blindfolded and has a large, wooden spoon for a wand. the players join hands and dance about him. there may be music, if it be so desired. when the signal is given to stop, all must stand still. the blindfolded one touches one of the players with his hand and tries to guess his identity. if he guesses correctly, that player must take his place. stooping, kneeling, or tiptoeing may be resorted to, to conceal the identity of the players. what is my thought like? though this is a very old game, it is well worth the playing. the leader asks each player in turn, "what is my thought like?" the one questioned gives any answer he desires. each player is asked in turn and a list is kept of the replies. finally the leader tells what his thought was, and asks each player in what way it resembles the thing he, or she, likened it to. biography each player receives a pencil and paper and takes a seat as one of the circle of players. the left-hand neighbor is the subject for his right-hand neighbor's biographical sketch. any absurd happening will do, the more ridiculous the biography, the better. the wittiest one calls for a prize. nicknames of cities certain cities have been nick-named, as chicago, the windy city; philadelphia, the city of brotherly love, etc. the hostess requests her guests to wear something suggestive of the nickname of the city represented. each guest writes on a piece of paper what cities he supposes the other guests are representing. a half hour is allowed, when a prize is awarded the one who has given the largest number of guesses correctly. how, when and where one member of the company, leaving the room, a word admitting of more than one interpretation is chosen by the others. on his return, he asks each in succession, "how do you like it?" the player questioned being required to give an appropriate answer. he then inquires in similar manner, "when do you like it," and if the answer to that question still gives him no clue, proceeds to ask, "where do you like it?" when he at last discovers the word, the person whose answer has furnished him with the most information, must in turn leave the room and become the questioner. we will suppose the word chosen to be "rain," which can also be taken as "reign" or "rein." the question, "how do you like it?" receives the answers, "tight," "heavy," "short," "warm," etc. the question, "when do you like it?", "in summer," "when i am driving," "in the nineteenth century," etc. "where do you like it?", "in the united states," "on a horse," "in the sky," etc. my grandfather's trunk--any number of players a great game for young folks of a winter evening. the company being seated in a circle, somebody begins by saying, for instance: no. . "i pack my grandfather's trunk with a pair of spectacles." no. . "i pack my grandfather's trunk with a pair of spectacles and a silk hat." no. . "i pack my grandfather's trunk with a pair of spectacles, a silk hat and a dime novel." and so on, each person repeating all the articles already mentioned, besides adding a new one. if any one fails to repeat the list correctly, he drops out of the game, which is continued until the contents of the trunk are unanimously declared too numerous to remember. location location is geographical in character. two captains are chosen. they choose sides until the party is equally divided. one captain begins the game by calling the name of a city. he then counts thirty. before he has finished counting, his opposite opponent must tell where the city is located. if his answer be correct, he in turn names a place, and the second player in the opposite row must locate it before he counts thirty. should any player fail to answer before thirty is counted, or answer incorrectly, he or she must drop out. when there is only one player left on either side, that one gets the prize. predicaments predicaments are thought out. the more ridiculous they are the better. they are written on sheets of paper. each person has to write his idea of the best way out of a predicament. then the papers are collected and read. prizes are given if the hostess so desires. progressive puzzles provide as many small, square cards as there are guests; also several pairs of scissors. the party seats itself in a circle. the cards and scissors are given out. then each player cuts his card twice across, so as to make four pieces. the straight cuts must intersect each other. after the first cut, the pieces must be held together until the second cut has been made. a player mixes his pieces and passes them to his right-hand neighbor. when the leader gives the signal, all the players put together the four pieces they have. the one who first succeeds calls out "ready." then all stop and pass the cards on again. the successful player is given a mark on a tally card. the game goes on until a half hour has passed. the person receiving the most marks is entitled to a prize, or may become the leader, as preferred. mirth the leader for this game must have a contagious laugh. he throws a handkerchief into the air; when he does this, all must laugh heartily, until the handkerchief lies upon the ground, then the laughing must stop immediately. the player laughing after the handkerchief touches the ground is "out." this also happens to the one laughing too soon. the one left alone at last is the winner, and may become leader. crambo each player in the party is given two slips of paper and a pencil. on one slip he writes a question. this may be serious or absurd, as he wishes. on another paper he writes a word, this being a noun--either proper or common. the questions being mixed are distributed--the words likewise. the players write verses answering the questions and containing the words received. auction _needed: twenty, or more, packages, wrapped in paper._ auction may be made a very merry game. it depends upon the auctioneer, however, to make the sales interesting; any articles may be chosen, though dolls, teddy bears, etc., are suggested. the articles are catalogued. they are paid for with the beans given to the players with the catalogues. beast, bird or fish the players sit round in a circle, and one player, who is "it," points to some one, and says either "beast," "bird," or "fish." he then counts ten as quickly as possible. the person pointed to must name some "beast," "bird," or "fish" (whichever he was asked), before ten is reached. if he fails he must give a forfeit. the rotation of the globe when you next chance to eat an egg for breakfast, do not fail to try the following experiment. it is one which always succeeds, and is productive of much amusement to the company. moisten slightly with water the rim of your plate, and in the center paint with the yolk of the egg a sun with golden rays. by the aid of this simple apparatus, you will be in a position to illustrate, so clearly that a child can comprehend it, the double movement of the earth, which revolves simultaneously round the sun and on its own axis. all that you have to do is to place the empty half-shell of your egg on the rim of the plate, and keeping this latter duly sloped, by a slight movement of the wrist as may be needful, you will see the eggshell begin to revolve rapidly on its own axis, at the same time traveling round the plate. it is hardly necessary to remark that the egg-shell will not travel uphill, and the plate must therefore be gradually shifted round, as well as sloped, so that the shell may always have an inch or two of descending plane before it. the slight cohesion caused by the water which moistens the plate counteracts the centrifugal force and so prevents the eggshell falling off the edge of the plate. advice pencil and paper having been given the players, each writes a piece of advice and folds his paper. he passes it to his neighbor, who before opening it, tells whether he thinks the advice good or bad. if he guesses correctly, he scores a point. the game goes on this way, each at the table taking a turn, when new advices are written and passed along. this is done as many times as the hostess desires. the one getting the most points is winner. words each player receives a pencil and paper. he is then told to make as many words as he can from a given word of fifteen letters, or more. it is surprising how many words can be thus made. the winner is the one fashioning the greatest number of words. a book is given him as a prize. chapter iii game of words--prince of india--exchange--shadow buff--tailless donkey --throwing the handkerchief flags of all nations you can learn the colors of the flags of all nations by referring to a large dictionary, or to a book on flags. the flags are drawn with colored crayons, or painted in water colors, on a large water-color card, or a sheet of water-color paper. large cards with numbers down the sides are given to each player, with a pencil. the card of flags is then hung where all can see it, and half an hour is allowed for all to guess the countries to which the flags belong. the answers are written on the individual cards, and the papers are signed with the names of the players. a prize is given to the player who has the greatest number of correct answers. another game of words the players, each of whom is supplied with paper and pencil, are divided equally into two sides, and the leader, having selected a word, suppose "notwithstanding," each party sets to work to see how many different words they can make of the same letters. (thus from the word above suggested may be made "not, with, stand, standing, gin, ton, to, wig, wit, his, twit, tan, has, had, an, nod, tow, this, sat, that, sit, sin, tin, wink, what, who, wish, win, wan, won," and probably a host of others.) a scrutiny is then taken, all words common to both parties being struck out. the remainder are then compared, and the victory is adjudged to the one having the largest number of words. grammatical game this is played by each person drawing, say, twenty letters haphazard, and trying to form them into a phrase or sentence, the palm of merit being awarded to the player who, at the same time, produces the most coherent phrase, and also succeeds in using the greatest proportion of the letters assigned to him. menagerie this is a very funny game if the ringmaster keeps up a running fire of witty remarks. he stands in the circle of animals--otherwise guests--and, whip in hand, shows off his animals, and their tricks, singly, and in groups. the lion roars, as well as performs; the dog barks, and performs the tricks he is told to show off; the canary warbles its song; the bee buzzes; the donkey brays, balks and kicks, etc. at the end of the performance there is a grand circus parade, with music. prince of india the players are numbered from one upward. the leader stands in front of them and says: "the prince of india has lost his pearl. did you find it, number seven?" upon this, number replies, jumping to his feet quickly: "i, sir, i?" the leader replies, "yes, you, sir!" number says: "not i, sir!" leader: "who then, sir, if not you?" number : "number , sir." number jumps up, and says: "what, sir? i, i?" leader: "yes, sir; you, you." number : "not i, not i, sir."' leader: "who then, sir?" number : "number , sir."' then number jumps to his feet. this goes on until the leader reaches the last one in the circle. if he can repeat again "the prince of india has lost his pearl," before this one can jump to his feet, they exchange places. exchange a blindfolded player stands in the center; the others are seated about him in a circle. each one is numbered. the blindfolded player calls out two numbers, whereupon the players bearing those numbers exchange places, the blindfolded player trying meanwhile either to catch one of the players or to secure one of the chairs. any player so caught must yield his chair to the catcher. no player may go outside of the circle formed by the chairs. hunt the ring all the players stand in a circle holding a long cord, which forms an endless band upon which a ring has been slipped before it was joined at the ends. this ring is passed rapidly from one player to another--always on the cord and concealed by the hand--while somebody in the center endeavors to seize the hands of the person who holds it, who, when actually caught, takes his place within the circle. if the circle is very large, two rings may be slipped upon the cord, and two players placed in the center together. a small key may be used instead of a ring, while still another variation is to have the concealed object a small whistle with a ring attached. when this is adopted, an amusing phase of the game is to secretly attach a string to the whistle and fasten this to the back of the player in the center by means of a bent pin at the other end of the string. then while feigning to pass the whistle from hand to hand, it is occasionally seized and blown upon by some one in the ring, toward whom the victim is at that moment turning his back, causing that individual to be greatly puzzled. shadow bluff a sheet being stretched across one end of the room, one of the players being seated upon a low stool facing it, and with his eyes fixed upon it. the only light in the room must be a lamp placed upon a table in the center of the room. between this lamp and the person on the stool, the players pass in succession, their shadows being thrown upon the sheet in strong relief. the victim of the moment endeavors to identify the other players by their respective shadows, and if he succeeds the detected party must take his place. it is allowable to make detection as difficult as possible by means of any available disguise that does not conceal the whole person, any grimacing, contortion of form, etc. guessing eyes and noses a sheet is fastened up between two doors. holes are cut in it, and some of the party go behind the sheet and stand with their eyes at the holes, while the others must guess to whom the eyes belong. failing to guess correctly, they must give a forfeit. the tailless donkey an amusing game, at which any size party may play and enjoy it for hours. cut a large figure of a donkey, minus a tail, from dark paper or cloth, and pin it upon a sheet stretched tightly across a door-way. each player is given a piece of paper, which would fit the donkey for a tail, if applied. on each tail is written the name of the person holding it. when all is ready, the players are blindfolded in turn--placed facing the donkey a few steps back in the room--then turned around rapidly two or three times, and told to advance with the tail held at arm's length, and with a pin previously inserted in the end, attach it to the figure of the donkey wherever they first touch it. when the whole curtain is adorned with tails--(not to mention all the furniture, family portraits, etc., in the vicinity)--and there are no more to pin on, the person who has succeeded in fastening the appendage the nearest to its natural dwelling place, receives a prize, and the player who has given the most eccentric position to the tail entrusted to his care, receives the "booby" prize, generally some gift of a nature to cause a good-humored laugh. throwing the handkerchief a very old and still quite popular game. the company being seated around the room in a circle, some one stationed in the center throws an unfolded handkerchief to one of the seated players. whoever receives it must instantly throw it to some one else, and so on, while the person in the center endeavors to catch the handkerchief in its passage from one player to another. if he catches it, as it touches somebody, that person must take his place in the center. if it is caught in the air, the player whose hands it last left enters the circle. the handkerchief must not be knotted or twisted, but thrown loosely. chapter iv magic music--cushion dance--animal blindman's bluff--my lady's toilet --going to jerusalem magic music a beautiful game, which amuses even the mere spectator as much as it does the players. one of the company sits at the piano while another leaves the room. the rest of the party then hide some article, previously agreed upon, and recall the absent player. at his entrance the pianist begins playing some lively air, very softly, keeping up a sort of musical commentary upon his search, playing louder as he approaches the goal, and softer when he wanders away from it. in this way he is guided to at last discover the object of his search. cushion dance the cushions are set upright in a circle on the floor. the players then join hands, and form a ring round them. the circle formed by the cushions should be almost as large as the ring formed by the players, and the cushions may be placed at a considerable distance apart. the players in the ring dance round; and each player, as he dances, tries to make his neighbors knock over the cushions. he, however, avoids knocking over any himself. the players should not break the ring, as the penalty to one letting go hands is expulsion from the ring. if it is preferred, indian clubs placed on end may be substituted for the cushions. musical instruments the players sit in a circle and form an orchestra. the conductor stands in the center. a tune is decided on, and the instruments are selected. then the conductor beats time, and each player imitates as well as he can the sound of his instrument, and the motion used in playing it. suddenly the conductor turns to one of the players and asks, "what is the matter with your instrument?" and immediately counts ten. before he finishes counting, the player who has been questioned must begin an answer which is appropriate to his instrument. if his answer is inappropriate, or if it is not begun before the counting stops, he must change places with the conductor. whenever the conductor claps his hands the music must stop, and the players must remain in the attitudes in which they were when he gave the signal. any one who fails to stop humming, or who changes his position, must become leader. the same conductor may continue throughout the game. the person who fails in any of the requirements of the game then pays a forfeit. animal blindman's bluff a blindfolded player stands in the center of a circle with a wand, stick, or cane in his hand. the other players dance around him in a circle until he taps three times on the floor with the cane, when all must stand still. the blindfolded one points his cane in any direction. the one directly opposite it must make a noise like an animal. from this the person in the center of the ring guesses the other's identity. if he does so, there is an exchange of places. my lady's toilet this is a french game. in it each player is named for some article of "my lady's toilet," such as her gown, her hat, her gloves, etc. the players sit in a circle, and when the leader mentions an article of the toilet, the one who is named for it must rush to the center of the ring before the platter stops spinning there. if successful, he or she takes the place of the spinner in the center of the ring. if unsuccessful, the person returns to his or her place. the leader may keep up the interest of the game by comments on the toilettes. this is most interesting in story form. a variation of this game introduces the word ball. whenever this is spoken of, the players must jump up and change places, the spinner trying to secure a seat in the general confusion. the odd player becomes a spinner. mary and john the players--all but two--form a circle and clasp hands. two odd players in the center are called, "mary" and "john." the object of the game is for john to catch mary. as he is blindfolded, he can only locate her in her stealthy movements by the sound of her muffled voice. when he says, "mary, where are you?" she must answer as often as he questions her. mary may stoop or tiptoe, or resort to any means to escape capture, except leaving the ring. when mary is captured she is blindfolded and john takes her seat. so the game goes on after mary has chosen a new john. going to jerusalem this is a piano game, but does not require great skill. one person goes to the piano, while the others arrange in a line as many chairs, less one, as there are players, the chairs alternately facing opposite directions. then, as the pianist begins to play, the others commence marching around the line of chairs, keeping time to the music. when this suddenly ceases, everybody tries to sit down, but as there is one less chair than players, somebody is left standing, and must remain out of the game. then another chair is removed, and the march continues, until the chairs decrease to one, and the players to two. whichever of these succeeds in seating himself as the music stops, has won the game. "what d'ye buy?" this game may be played by any number from three to thirteen. there are a dozen good-sized pieces of cardboard, each bearing a colored illustration of one of the "trades" following, viz.: a milliner, a fishmonger, a greengrocer, plumber, a music-seller, a toyman, mason, a pastry-cook, a hardware-man, a tailor, a poulterer, and a doctor. besides these there are a number of smaller tickets, half a dozen to each trade. each of these has the name of the particular trade, and also the name of some article in which the particular tradesman in question may be considered to deal. a book accompanies the cards, containing a nonsense story, with a blank at the end of each sentence. one of the players is chosen as leader, and the others each select a trade, receiving the appropriate picture, and the six cards containing the names of the articles in which the tradesman deals. he places his "sign" before him on the table, and holds the remainder of his cards in his hand. the leader then reads the story, and whenever he comes to one of the blanks, he glances towards one of the other players, who must immediately, under penalty of a forfeit, supply the blank with some article he sells, at the same time laying down the card bearing its name. the incongruity of the article named with the context make the fun of the game, which is heightened by the vigilance which each player must exercise in order to avoid a forfeit. where the number of players is very small, each may undertake two or more trades. we will give an illustration. the concluding words indicate the trade of the person at whom the leader glances to fill up a given hiatus. "ladies and gentlemen, i propose to relate some curious adventures which befell me and my wife peggy the other day, but as i am troubled with a complaint called 'non mi ricordo,' or the 'can't remembers,' i shall want each of you to tell me what you sell; therefore, when i stop and look at one of you, you must be brisk in recommending your goods. whoever does not name something before i count 'three' must pay a forfeit. attention! "last friday week i was awakened very early in the morning by a loud knocking at my door in humguffin court. i got up in a great fright, and put on"--(looks at toyman, who replies, "a fool's cap and bells," and lays down that card). "when i got downstairs, who should be there but a fat porter, with a knot, on which he carried"--(poulterer) "a pound of pork sausages." "'hallo!' said i, 'my fellow, what do you want at this time of day?' he answered"--(fishmonger) "'a cod's head and shoulders.'" "'get along with you,' i said; 'there's my neighbor, dr. drenchall, i see, wants'"--(butcher) "'a sheep's head.'" "i now went up to shave, but my soap-dish was gone, and the maid brought me instead"--(milliner) "a lady's chip hat." "my razor had been taken to chop firewood, so i used"--(greengrocer) "a cucumber." "i then washed my face in"--(doctor) "a cup of quinine," "cleaned my teeth with"--(fishmonger) "a fresh herring," and "combed my hair with"--(pastrycook) "a jam tart." "my best coat was taken possession of by pussy and kittens, so i whipped on"--(hardware-man) "a dripping pan." "the monkey, seeing how funny i looked, snatched off my wig, and clapped on my head"--(poulterer) "a fat hen." "i now awoke my wife, and asked her what she had nice for breakfast; she said"--(doctor) "a mustard plaster." "then i scolded sukey, the servant, and called her"--(poulterer) "a tough old turkey." "but she saucily told me i was no better than"--(music-seller) "an old fiddle." "i soon had enough of that, so i asked my wife to go with me to buy"--(tailor) "a pair of trousers." "but she said she must have her lunch first, which consisted of----" etc., etc., through half a dozen pages, the tradesmen supply more or less appropriate articles to fill up the gaps in the discourse. chapter v. raisin tortoise--lemon pig--seasick passenger--enchanted raisins--lump of sugar--mysterious production--family giant the raisin tortoise this noble animal is constructed as follows: a muscatel raisin forms the body, and small portions of the stalk of the same fruit the head and legs. with a little judgment in the selection of the pieces of stalk and the mode in which they are thrust into the body, it is surprising what a life-like tortoise may be thus produced. while the work of art in question is being handed round on a plate for admiration, the artist may further distinguish himself, if the wherewithal is obtainable, by constructing the lemon pig the body of the pig consists of a lemon. the shape of this fruit renders it particularly well adapted for this purpose, the crease or shoulder at the small end of the lemon being just the right shape to form the head and neck of the pig. with three or four lemons to choose from, you cannot fail to find at least one which will answer the purpose exactly. the mouth and ears are made by cutting the ring with a penknife, the legs of short ends of lucifer matches, and the eyes either of black pins, thrust in up to the head, or grape stones. the seasick passenger the requirements for this touching picture are an orange, a pocket handkerchief or soft table napkin, and a narrow water goblet. the orange is first prepared by cutting in the rind with a penknife the best ears, nose, and mouth which the artist can compass, a couple of raisin-pips supplying the place of eyes. a pocket handkerchief is stretched lightly over the glass, and the prepared orange laid thereon. the pocket-handkerchief is then moved gently backward and forward over the top of the glass, imparting to the orange a rolling motion, and affording a laughable but striking caricature of the agonies of a seasick passenger. the enchanted raisins take four raisins or bread-pills, and place them about a foot apart, so as to form a square on the table. next fold a couple of table-napkins, each into a pad of five inches square. take one of these in each hand, the fingers undermost and the thumb uppermost. then inform the company that you are about to give them a lesson in the art of hanky-panky, etc., and in the course of your remarks, bring down the two napkins carelessly over the two raisins farthest from you. leave the right-hand napkin on the table, but, in withdrawing the hand, bring away the raisin between the second and third fingers, and at the same moment remarking, "you must watch particularly how many raisins i place under each napkin." lift the left napkin (as if merely to show that there is one raisin only beneath it), and transfer it to the palm of the outstretched right hand, behind which the raisin is now concealed. without any perceptible pause, but at the same time without any appearance of haste, replace the folded napkin on raisin no. , and in so doing, leave raisin no. beside it. now take up raisin no. (with the right hand). put the hand under the table, and in doing so get raisin no. between the second and third fingers, as much behind the hand as possible. give a rap with the knuckles on the underside of the table, at the same time saying, "pass!" and forthwith pick up the left-hand napkin with the left hand, showing the raisins and beneath it. all eyes are drawn to the two raisins on the table, and as the right hand comes into sight from beneath the table, the left quietly transfers the napkin to it, thereby effectually concealing the presence of raisin no. . the napkin is again laid over raisins and , and no. is secretly deposited with them. no. is then taken in the right hand, and the process repeated, when three raisins are naturally discovered, the napkin being once more replaced, and no. left with the rest. there are now four raisins under the left-hand napkin, and none under that on the right hand, though the spectators are persuaded that there is one under the latter, and only three under the former. the trick being now practically over, the performer may please himself as to the form of the denouement, and, having gone through any appropriate form of incantation, commands the imaginary one to go and join the other three, which is found to have taken place accordingly. the demon lump of sugar the performer commences by borrowing two hats, which he places, crowns upward, upon the table, drawing particular attention to the fact that there is nothing whatever under either of them. he next demands the loan of the family sugar basin, and requests some one to select from it a lump of sugar (preferably one of an unusual and easily distinguished shape), at the same time informing them that, by means of a secret process, only known to himself, he will undertake to swallow such lump of sugar before their eyes, and yet, after a few minutes' interval, bring it under either of the two hats they may choose. the company, having been prepared by the last trick to expect some ingenious piece of sleight-of-hand, are all on the _qui vive_ to prevent any substitution of another lump of sugar, or any pretence of swallowing without actually doing so. however, the performer does unmistakably take the identical lump of sugar chosen and crushes it to pieces with his teeth. he then asks, with unabated confidence, under which of the two hats he shall bring it, and, the choice having been made, places the chosen hat on his own head, and in that way fulfills his undertaking. the mysterious production this is another feat of the _genus_ "sell," and to produce due effect, should only be introduced after the performer has, by virtue of a little genuine magic, prepared the company to expect from him something a little out of the common. he begins by informing the spectators that he is about to show them a great mystery, a production of nature on which no human being has ever yet set eye, and which, when they have once seen, no human being will ever set eyes on again. when the general interest is sufficiently awakened, he takes a nut from the dish, and, having gravely cracked it, exhibits the kernel, and says, "here is an object which you will admit no human being has ever seen, and which" (here he puts it into his mouth and gravely swallows it) "i am quite sure nobody will ever see again." the family giant a very fair giant, for domestic purposes, may be produced by the simple expedient of seating a young lad astride on the shoulders of one of the older members of the company, and draping the combined figure with a long cloak or inverness cape. the "head" portion may, of course, be "made up" as much as you please, the more complete the disguise the more effective being the giant. a ferocious-looking moustache and whiskers will greatly add to his appearance. if some ready-witted member of the party will undertake to act as showman, and exhibit the giant, holding a lively conversation with him, and calling attention to his gigantic idiosyncrasies, a great deal of fun may be produced. the joke should not, however, be very long continued, as the feelings of the "legs" have to be considered. if too long deprived of air and light they are apt to wax rebellious, and either carry the giant in the directions he would fain avoid, or even occasionally to strike together, and bring the giant's days to a sudden and undignified termination. chapter vi the what-do-you-think?--knight of the whistle--"can do little"-- throwing light "the what-do-you-think?" the exhibitor begins, in proper showman style: "ladies and gentlemen, i have the pleasure of exhibiting to your notice the celebrated 'what-do-you-think?' or giant uncle-eater. you have all probably heard of the ant-eater. this is, as you will readily perceive, a member of the same family, but more so! he measures seven feet from the tip of his snout to the end of his tail, eight feet back again, five feet around the small of his waist, and has four feet of his own, making twenty-four in all. in his natural state he lives chiefly on blue-bottle flies and mixed pickles, but in captivity it is found that so rich a diet has a tendency to make him stout, and he is now fed exclusively on old corks and back numbers of some daily paper. his voice, which you may perhaps have an opportunity of hearing (here the 'what-do-you-think?' howls dismally), is in the key of b fiat, and is greatly admired. people come here before breakfast to hear it, and when they have heard it, they assure us that they never heard anything like it before. some have even gone so far as to say that they never wish to hear anything like it again,"' etc. the "what-do-you-think?" is manufactured as follows: the performer, who should have black kid gloves on, places on his head a conical paper cap, worked up with the aid of the nursery paint box into a rough semblance of an animal's head. this being securely fastened on, he goes down on his hands and knees and a shaggy railway rug (of fur, if procurable) is thrown over him and secured round his neck, when the animal is complete. the knight of the whistle this is a capital game for everybody but the victim, and produces much fun. some one who does not know the game is chosen to be knight of the whistle, and is commanded to kneel down and receive the honor of knighthood, which the leader (armed with a light cane, the drawing- room poker, or other substitute for a sword) confers by a slight stroke on the back. while placing him in position, opportunity is taken to attach to his back, by means of a bent pin or otherwise, a piece of string about a foot in length, to which is appended a small light whistle. having been duly dubbed, in order to complete his dignity, he is informed that he must now go in quest of the whistle, which will be sounded at intervals, in order to guide him in his search. meanwhile the other players gather in a circle round him, making believe to pass an imaginary object from hand to hand. the victim naturally believes that this imaginary object must be the long-lost whistle, and makes a dash for it accordingly, when the player who happens to be behind his back blows the actual whistle and instantly drops it again. round flies the unhappy knight, and makes a fresh dash to seize the whistle, but in vain. no sooner has he turned to a fresh quarter than the ubiquitous whistle again sounds behind his back. if the game is played smartly, and care taken not to pull the cord, the knight may often be kept revolving for a considerable period before he discovers the secret. "he can do little." this is another "sell" of almost childish simplicity, but we have seen people desperately puzzled over it, and even "give it up" in despair. the leader takes a stick (or poker) in his left hand, thence transfers it to his right, and thumps three times on the floor, saying: "he can do little who can't do this." he then hands the stick to another person, who, as he supposes, goes through exactly the same performance; but if he does not know the game, is generally told, to his disgust, that he has incurred a forfeit, his imitation not having been exact. the secret lies in the fact that the stick, when passed on, is first received in the left hand and thence transferred to the right before going through the performance. "throwing light." two of the company agree privately upon a word (which should be one susceptible of two or three meanings), and interchange remarks tending to throw light upon it. the rest of the players do their best to guess the word, but when any of them fancies he has succeeded, he does not publicly announce his guess, but makes such a remark as to indicate to the two initiated that he has discovered their secret. if they have any doubt that he has really guessed the word, they challenge him, i.e., require him to name it in a whisper. if this guess proves to be right, he joins in conversation, and assists in throwing light on the subject; but if, on the other hand, he is wrong, he must submit to have a handkerchief thrown over his head, and so remain until by some more fortunate observation he shall prove that he really possesses the secret. we will give an example. mr. a. and miss b. have agreed on "bed" as the word, and proceed to throw light upon it, alternating upon its various meanings of a place of repose, a part of a garden, or the bed of a river. miss b. i don't know what your opinion may be, but i am never tired of it. mr. a. well, for my part, i am never in a hurry, either to get to it or to leave it. miss b. how delightful it is after a long, tiring day! mr. a. yes. but it is a pleasure that soon palls. the most luxurious person does not care for too much of it at a stretch. miss b. oh, don't you think so. in early spring, for instance, with the dew upon the flowers! mr. a. ah! you take the romantic view. but how would you like it beneath some rapid torrent or some broad majestic river? miss c. (thinks she sees her way, and hazards a remark). or in a sauce? mr. a. i beg your pardon. please tell me in a whisper what you suppose the word to be? miss c. (whispers) fish! what! isn't that right? mr. a. i am afraid you must submit to a temporary eclipse. (throws her handkerchief over her face.) mr. a. to miss b. you mentioned spring, i think. for my own part, i prefer feathers. mr. d. (rashly concludes, from the combination of "spring" and "feathers," that spring chickens must be referred to). surely you would have them plucked? mr. a. (looks puzzled). i think not may i ask you to name your guess? oh, no, quite out. i must trouble you for your pocket handkerchief. miss b. it is curious, isn't it, that they must be made afresh every day? mr. a. so it is; though i confess it never struck me in that light before. i don't fancy, however, that old brown, the gardener, makes his quite so often. miss b. you may depend that he has it made for him, though. miss c. (from under the handkerchief). at any rate, according as he makes it, his fate will be affected accordingly. you know the proverb? mr. a. (removing the handkerchief). you have fairly earned your release. by the way, do you remember an old paradox upon this subject, "what nobody cares to give away, yet nobody wishes to keep?" miss e. ah! now you have let out the secret. i certainly don't wish to keep mine for long together, but i would willingly give it away if i could get a better. miss b. tell me your guess. (miss e. whispers.) yes, you have hit it. i was afraid mr. a.'s last "light" was rather too strong. and so the game goes on, until every player is in the secret, or the few who may be still in the dark "give it up" and plead for mercy. this, however, is a rare occurrence, for, as the company in general become acquainted with the secret, the "lights" are flashed about in a rash and reckless manner, till the task of guessing becomes almost a matter of course to an ordinarily acute person. chapter vii church and school socials charades: "cicero"--"attenuate"--suggested words--"metaphysician"-- charades on the grecian islands acting charades in some form or other the game of charades is played in almost every country under the sun. in acting charades the characters and situation are made to represent a play upon a word or words by portraying some feature which vividly brings such word or words to the mind. here is a popular one: send one-half the company out of the room, into another which may be separated by double doors; portieres are best for the purpose. the party in the inner room think of some word which can be represented entire, in pantomime or tableau, and proceed to enact it. after they have made up, the door opens, and discloses half a dozen girls standing in a line, while one of the acting party announces that this striking tableau represents the name of a famous orator. the others failing to guess are told that cicero (sissy-row) is the orator represented. again, just as the clock strikes ten, the doors opening reveal a lady eating an apple or any convenient edible, while a gentleman who stands near points to the clock and then at her. this being correctly guessed to represent "attenuate" (at ten you ate), the other side goes from the room and the previous performers become the audience. there are a host of words which with a little ingenuity may be turned to account. for example: ingratiate. (in gray she ate.) catering. (kate. her ring.) hero. (he row.) tennessee. (ten, i see.) the following are also good charade words: knighthood, penitent, looking-glass, hornpipe, necklace, indolent, lighthouse, hamlet, pantry, phantom, windfall, sweepstake, sackcloth, antidote, antimony, pearl powder, kingfisher, football, housekeeping, infancy, snowball, definite, bowstring, carpet, sunday, shylock, earwig, matrimony, cowhiding, welcome, friendship, horsemanship, coltsfoot, bridegroom, housemaid, curl-papers, crumpet. we will take the word "windfall," as affording a ready illustration of the pantomime charade. "wind" may be represented by a german band, puffing away at imaginary ophicleides and trombones, with distended cheeks and frantic energy, though in perfect silence. "fall" may be portrayed by an elderly gentleman with umbrella up, who walks unsuspectingly on an ice slide and falls. the complete word "windfall" may be represented by a young man sitting alone, leaning his elbows on his hands, and having every appearance of being in the last stage of impecuniosity. to produce this effect, he may go through a pantomime of examining his purse and showing it empty, searching his pockets and turning them one by one inside out, shaking his head mournfully and sitting down again, throwing into his expression as much despair as he conveniently can. a letter carrier's whistle is heard; a servant enters with a legal-looking letter. the impecunious hero, tearing it open, produces from it a roll of stage banknotes, and forthwith gives way to demonstrations of the most extravagant delight, upon which the curtain falls. in another the curtain rises (i.e., the folding-doors are thrown open), and a placard is seen denoting, "this is madison square," or any other place where professional men congregate. two gentlemen in out-door costumes cross the stage from opposite sides and bow gravely on passing each other, one of them saying, as they do so, "good morning, doctor." the curtain falls, and the audience are informed that the charade, which represents a word of six syllables, is complete in that scene. when the spectators have guessed or been told that the word is "met-a-physician," the curtain again rises on precisely the same scene, and the same performance, action for action, and word for word, is repeated over again. the audience hazard the same word "metaphysician" as the answer, but are informed that they are wrong--the word now represented having only three syllables, and they ultimately discover that the word is "metaphor" (met afore). in another charade is seen a little toy wooden horse, such as can be bought for fifty cents. the spectators are told that this forms a word of two syllables, representing an island in the aegean sea. if the spectators are well up in ancient geography, they may possibly guess that delos (deal hoss) is referred to. the curtain falls, and again rises on the same contemptible object, which is now stated to represent a second island in the same part of the world. the classical reader will at once see that samos (same hoss) is intended. again the curtain rises on the representation of an island. two little wooden horses now occupy the scene, pharos (pair 'oss) being the island referred to. once more the curtain rises, this time on a group of charming damsels, each reclining in a woebegone attitude, surrounded by pill boxes and physic bottles, and apparently suffering from some painful malady. this scene represents a word of three syllables, and is stated to include all that has gone before. cyclades (sick ladies), the name of the group to which delos, samos and pharos belong, is of course the answer. a comical charade is a performance representing the word "imitation." the spectators are informed that the charade about to be performed can be exhibited to only one person at a time. one person is accordingly admitted into the room in which the actors are congregated. the unhappy wight stares about him with curiosity, not unmingled with apprehension, fearing to be made the victim of some practical joke; nor is his comfort increased by finding that his every look or action is faithfully copied by each person present. this continues until he has either guessed or given up the word, when a fresh victim is admitted, and the new initiate becomes in turn one of the actors. sometimes, however, the victim manages to turn the laugh against his persecutors. we have known a young lady, seeing through the joke, quietly take a chair and remain motionless, reducing the matter to a simple trial of patience between herself and the company. chapter viii church and school socials living pictures--tableaux: dignity and impudence--sailor's farewell--home again--various tableaux living pictures there are few better amusements for a large party in the same house, with plenty of time on their hands, than the organization of _tableaux vivants,_ or living representations. tableaux, to be successfully represented, demand quite as much attention to detail as a theatrical performance, and scarcely less careful rehearsal. the first element of success is a competent stage manager. his artistic taste should be beyond all question, and his will should be law among the members of his corps. the essentials of a "living picture" are very much the same as those of a picture of the inanimate description, viz., form, color and arrangement. if, therefore, you can secure for the office of stage manager a gentleman of some artistic skill, by all means do so, as his technical knowledge will be found of the greatest possible service. before proceeding to plan your series of pictures, it will be necessary to provide the "frame" in which they are to be exhibited. if the room which you propose to use has folding doors, they will of course be used. a curtain, preferably of some dark color, should be hung on each side, and a lambrequin or valance across the top. where circumstances admit, the directions we give elsewhere as to the construction of a stage and proscenium for private theatricals may be followed with advantage. in any case, a piece of fine gauze should be carefully stretched over the whole length and depth of the opening. this is found, by producing softer outlines, materially to enhance the pictorial effect. if it is practicable to have a raised stage, it will be found of great addition. where this cannot be arranged, it is well to place a board, six inches in width, and covered with the same material as the rest of the frame, across the floor (on edge) from side to side, in the position which the footlights would ordinarily occupy. the next consideration will be the curtain. the ordinary domestic curtains, hung by rings from a rod or pole, and opening in the middle, will serve as a makeshift; but where a really artistic series of tableaux is contemplated, the regular stage curtain of green baize is decidedly to be preferred. the question of "background" will be the next point to be considered. _tableaux vivants_ may be divided into two classes, the dramatic, i.e., representing some incident, e.g., a duel, or a trial in a court of justice, and the simply artistic, viz., such as portray merely a group, allegorical or otherwise, without reference to any particular plot or story. for the former, an appropriate scene is required, varying with each tableau represented; for the latter, all that is necessary is a simple background of drapery, of such a tone of color as to harmonize with, and yet to give full prominence to, the group of actors. the material of the latter as also the covering of the floor, should be of woolen or velvet, so as to absorb rather than reflect light. a lustrous background, as of satin or glazed calico, will completely destroy the effect of an otherwise effective tableau. the lighting is a point of very considerable importance--the conditions appropriate to an ordinary theatrical performance being here reversed. in an ordinary dramatic performance all shadow is a thing to be avoided, the point aimed at being to secure a strong bright light, uniformly distributed over the stage. in a _tableau vivant_, on the contrary, the skillful manipulation of light and shade is a valuable aid in producing artistic effect. footlights should, in this case, either be dispensed with altogether or at any rate used very sparingly, the stronger light coming from one or the other side. a good deal of experiment and some little artistic taste will be necessary to attain the right balance in this particular. where gas is available it will afford the readiest means of illumination. what is called a "string light," viz., a piece of gaspipe with fishtail burners at frequent intervals, connected with the permanent gas arrangements of the house by a piece of india rubber tube, and fixed in a vertical position behind each side of the temporary proscenium, will be found very effective; one or the other set of lights being turned up, as may be necessary. where a green or red light is desired, the interposition of a strip of glass of that color, or of a "medium" of red or green silk or tammy, will give the necessary tone. colored fires are supplied for the same purpose, but are subject to the drawback of being somewhat odoriferous in combustion. where, as is sometimes the case, a strong white light is required, this may be produced by burning the end of a piece of magnesium wire in the flame of an ordinary candle. these points being disposed of, costume and make-up will be the next consideration. as to the latter, the reader will find full instructions in the chapter devoted to private theatricals. with respect to costume, as the characters are seen for only a few moments, and in one position, this point may be dealt with in a much more rough-and-ready manner than would be advisable in the case of a regular dramatic performance. the royal crown need only be golden, the royal robe need only be trimmed with ermine-on the side toward the spectators; indeed, the proudest of sovereigns, from the audience point of view, may, as seen from the rear, be the humblest of citizens. even on the side toward the spectators a great deal of "make believe" is admissible. seen through the intervening gauze, the cheapest cotton velvet is equal to the richest silk; glazed calico takes the place of satin; and even the royal ermine may be admirably simulated by tails of black worsted stitched on a ground of flannel. lace may be manufactured from cut paper, and a dollar's worth of tinsel will afford jewels for a congress of sovereigns. of course, there is not the least objection to his wearing a crown of the purest gold, or diamonds of the finest possible water (if he can get them), but they will not look one whit more effective than the homely substitutes we have mentioned. a "ghost effect" may, where necessary, be produced by the aid of a magic lantern; the other lights of the tableau being lowered in order to give sufficient distinctness to the reflection. dramatic tableaux may often be exhibited with advantage in two or more "scenes"; the curtain being lowered for a moment in order to enable the characters to assume a fresh position. examples of this will be found among the tableaux which follow. having indicated the general arrangements of _tableaux vivants_, we append, for the reader's assistance, a selection of effective subjects, both simply pictorial and dramatic. i. dignity and impudence. (with background of plain drapery, remaining unchanged.) a magnificent flunkey, in a gorgeous suit of livery, standing, with left hand on hip, right hand in breast, side by side with a very small and saucy "boy in buttons," upon whom he looks down superciliously. boy with both hands in trouser pockets and gazing up at his companion with an expression of impertinent familiarity. ii. the fortune-teller a pretty girl, in simple outdoor costume, standing sideways to the spectators, with downcast eyes and a half-smiling, half-frightened expression. the fortune-teller faces her and holds the young lady's right hand in her left, while her own right hand holds a coin with which she is apparently tracing the lines of the young lady's palm, at the same time gazing with an arch expression into her face, as though to note the effect of her predictions. the fortune-teller should be in gipsy costume, a short, dark skirt and a hood of some brighter material thrown carelessly over her head. she should be of a swarthy complexion, with a good deal of color and jet-black hair. iii. faith a large cross, apparently of white marble (really of deal, well washed with whitening and size) occupies a diagonal position across the center of the stage, facing slightly toward the left. its base or plinth is formed of two or three successive platforms or steps of the same material. at the foot a woman kneels, clasping her arms around the cross, as though she had just thrown herself into that position in escaping from some danger. her gaze should be directed upward. a loose brown robe and hood, the latter thrown back off the head, will be the most appropriate costume. magnesium light from above. iv. hope a female figure, clothed in sober gray, and seated on a very low stool, facing right and gazing heavenward. (if a "sky" background is procurable, a single star should be visible, and should be the object of her gaze.) her right elbow rests upon her right knee, and her right hand supports her chin. her left hand hangs by her side, and at her feet lies the emblematic anchor. red light, not too strong. v. charity a ragged boy, barefooted and clasping a wornout broom, sits huddled on the ground left, but facing right. his arms are folded and rest on his knees, and his head is bent down upon them, so as to hide his face. a girl, in nun's costume, is touching him on the shoulder, and apparently proffering help and sympathy. vi. single life scene, a tolerably well-furnished but untidy sitting-room, with numerous traces of bachelor occupation, such as crossed foils on the wall, a set of boxing-gloves under a side table, boots, hats and walking-sticks lying about in various directions. on one corner of the table some one has apparently breakfasted in rather higgledy-piggledy fashion. near the table sits a young man, with a short pipe in his mouth and one foot bare, while he is endeavoring to darn an extremely dilapidated sock. vii. the sailor's farewell scene, a cottage home. a young man, in sailor costume and with a bundle on his shoulder, stands with his right hand on the latch of the door, right center, but looking back with a sorrowful expression at his wife--personated by a young lady in short black or blue skirt, red or white blouse, and white mob-cap--who sits with her apron up to her eyes in an apparent agony of grief. three children are present, the two elder crying for sympathy, the youngest sitting in a crib or cradle and amusing himself with some toy, in apparent unconsciousness of his father's approaching departure. soft blue light from left. music, "the minstrel boy." viii. home again. the same scene. children a couple of years older. (this may be effected by suppressing the youngest and introducing a fresh eldest, as much like the others as possible.) the sailor of the last scene, slightly more tanned, and with a fuller "made-up" beard, has apparently just entered. the wife has both arms round his neck, her face being hidden in his bosom. of the children, the eldest has seized and is kissing her father's hand, while the two younger each cling round one leg. soft red light. music, "a lass that loves a sailor," or "when johnny comes marching home again." various tableaux we subjoin a list of favorite subjects, leaving their actual arrangement to the taste and intelligence of the reader. it will usually be safe to follow the hints in good illustrations. "choosing the wedding gown." a charming scene after mulready, from the "vicar of wakefield." "william penn signing the treaty with the indians." "the drunkard's home," "signing the pledge," "the temperance home." see some good illustrations. "mary queen of scots and the four maries." "mr. pecksniff dismissing tom pinch." "the song of the shirt." "little red riding-hood." "the duel from the 'corsican brothers.'" "heloise in her cell." "william tell shooting the apple from his son's head," etc., etc., etc. chapter ix. church and school socials wax works gallery: mrs. jarley's collection--chinese giant--two-headed girl--captain kidd--celebrated dwarf--yankee--cannibal, etc. the idea is that of a waxwork exhibition, the characters being personated, after a burlesque fashion, by living performers. each "figure" is first duly described by the exhibitor, and then "wound up" and made to go through certain characteristic movements. the collection is supposed to be that of the far-famed mrs. jarley, of "old curiosity shop" celebrity. she may be assisted, if thought desirable, by "little nell" and a couple of manservants, john and peter. the costume of mrs. jarley is a black or chintz dress, bright shawl and huge bonnet; that of little nell may be a calico dress and white apron, with hat slung over her arm. john and peter may be dressed in livery suits, and should be provided with watchman's rattle, screwdriver, hammer, nails and oil-can. at the rise of the curtain the figures are seen ranged in a semicircle at the back of the stage, and little nell is discovered dusting them with a long feather brush. mrs. jarley stands in front, and delivers her descriptive orations, directing her men to bring forward each figure before she describes it. after having been duly described, the figure is "wound" up, and goes through its peculiar movement, and when it stops it is moved back to its place. if the stage is small, or it is desired that the same actors shall appear in various characters in succession, the figures may be exhibited in successive groups or compartments, the curtain being lowered to permit one party to retire and another to take their places. after the whole of the figures of a given chamber have been described, the assistants wind them all up, and they go through their various movements simultaneously, to a pianoforte accompaniment, which should gradually go faster, coming at last to a sudden stop, when the figures become motionless and the curtain falls. mrs. jarley may be made a silent character, sitting on one side, and occasionally making believe to dust or arrange a figure, while the "patter" is delivered by a male exhibitor. or mrs. jarley may, if preferred, be suppressed altogether, and the exhibitor appear as (say) artemus ward, or in ordinary evening costume, without assuming any special character. a good deal of fun may be made of the supposed tendency of any particular figure to tip over, and the application, by john and peter, of wooden wedges, penny pieces, etc., under its feet to keep it upright. supposed defective working, causing the figure to stop suddenly in the middle of its movements, and involving the rewinding or oiling of its internal mechanism, will also produce a good deal of amusement. the "winding up" may be done with a bed-winch, a bottle-jack key, or the winch of a kitchen range, the click of the mechanism being imitated by means of a watchman's rattle, or by the even simpler expedient of drawing a piece of hard wood smartly along a notched stick. (this, of course, should be done out of sight of the audience.) the movement of the figure should be accompanied by the piano, to a slow or lively measure, as may be most appropriate. the arrangement being complete and the curtain raised, mrs. jarley delivers her opening speech, about as follows: "ladies and gentlemen, you here behold mrs. jarley, one of the most remarkable women of the world, who has traveled all over the country with her curious collection of waxworks. these figures have been gathered, at great expense, from every clime and country, and are here shown together for the first time. i shall describe each one of them for your benefit, and, after i have given you their history, i shall have each one of them wound up, for they are all fitted with clockwork inside, and they can thus go through the same motions they did when living. in fact, they execute their movements so naturally that many people have supposed them to be alive; but i assure you that they are all made of wood and wax--blockheads every one. "without further prelude, i shall now introduce to your notice each one of my figures, beginning, as usual, with the last one first." i. the chinese giant a man or woman standing on a high stool, chintz skirt around the waist, long enough to hide the stool, chinese overdress, hat, pig-tail and moustache "this figure is universally allowed to be the tallest figure in my collection; he originated in the two provinces of oolong and shanghi, one province not being long enough to produce him. on account of his extreme length it is impossible to give any adequate idea of him in one entertainment, consequently he will be continued in our next. "he was the inventor, projector and discoverer of niagara falls, bunker's hill monument and the balm of columbia. in fact, everything was originally discovered by him or some other of the chinese. the portrait of this person, who was a high dignitary among them, may be often seen depicted on a blue china plate, standing upon a bridge, which leans upon nothing, at either end, and intently observing two birds which are behind him in the distance. "john, wind up the giant." the giant bows low, then wags his head three times and bows as before, and after a dozen motions slowly stops. "you will observe that i have spared no expense in procuring wonders of every sort, and here is my crowning effort or masterpiece--" ii. the two-headed girl "a remarkable freak of nature, which impresses the beholder with silent awe. observe the two heads and one body. see these fair faces, each one lovelier than the other. no one can gaze upon them without a double sensation 'of sorrow and of joy'--sorrow that such beauty and grace were ever united, and joy that he has had the pleasure of contemplating their union. "wind them up, peter." this figure is made by two young ladies standing back to back, wrapped in one large skirt. they hold their arms out, with their hands hanging, and slowly revolve when they are wound up. iii. the sewing-woman "john, bring out the sewing-woman, and let the ladies behold the unfortunate seamstress who died from pricking her finger with a needle while sewing on sunday. you see that the work which she holds is stained with gore, which drips from her finger onto the floor. (which is poetry!) this forms a sad and melancholy warning to all heads of families immediately to purchase the best sewing-machines, for this accident never could have happened had she not been without one of those excellent machines, such as no family should be without." costume: optional. when wound up, the figure sews very stiffly and stops slowly. iv. captain kidd and his victim "ladies and gentlemen: permit me to call your attention to this beautiful group, which has lately been added, at an enormous expense, to my collection. you here behold the first privateer and the first victim of his murderous propensities. captain kidd, the robber of the main, is supposed to have originated somewhere down east. his whole life being spent upon the stormy deep, he amassed an immense fortune, and buried it in the sand along the flower-clad banks of cape cod, by which course he invented the savings banks, now so common along shore. having hidden away so much property, which, like so many modern investments, never can be unearthed, he was known as a great _sea-cretur_. before him kneels his lovely and innocent victim, the lady blousabella infantina, who was several times taken and murdered by this bloodthirsty tyrant, which accounts for the calm look of resignation depicted upon her lovely countenance. "wind 'em up, john." costumes: captain kidd--white pantaloons, blue shirt, sailor hat, pistol and sword. victim--lady with flowing hair, white dress. movement--the captain's sword moves up and down, and the victim's arms go in unison. v. the siamese twins two gentlemen dressed alike in ordinary costume, with a large bone (attached by wire or string) between them. one arm of each over the other's neck. pugnacious expression of countenance. "the wonderful siamese twins compose the next group. these remarkable brothers lived together in the greatest harmony, though there was always a bone of contention between them. they were never seen apart, such was their brotherly fondness. they married young, both being opposed to a single life. the short one is not quite so tall as his brother, although their ages are about the same. one of them was born in the island of borneo, the other on the southern extremity of cape cod." when wound up they begin to fight, continue for a moment and stop suddenly. vi. the celebrated dwarf boy with red cloak, long white wig, bowl and spoon "this wonderful child has created some interest in the medical and scientific world, from the fact that he was thirteen years old when he was born, and kept on growing older and older until he died, at the somewhat advanced age of two hundred and ninety-seven, in consequence of eating too freely of pies and cakes, his favorite food. he measured exactly two feet and seven inches from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, and two feet and ten inches back again. was first discovered ten miles from any land and twelve miles from any water, making the enormous total of ninety-one, which figure was never before reached by any previous exhibition. wind him up, john." dwarf eats very stiffly with a large spoon in his right hand; in his left hand he holds a bowl, which falls on the floor after a moment and is broken. "john, get your tools and screw up that dwarf's hand, for it has become so loose that it costs a fortune for the crockery he breaks." john screws up the hand, gets a new bowl, and again winds up the figure, which now moves with much greater energy. vii. the vocalist "bring out the vocalist. i now call your attention to the most costly of all my figures. this wonderful automaton singer represents signorina squallini, the unrivaled vocalist, whose notes are current in every market, and sway all hearts at her own sweet will. "wind her up and let her liquid notes pour forth." she gesticulates wildly, and sings a few notes in a very extravagant manner, then stops with a hoarse sound. mrs. j.: "john, this figure needs oiling. why do you not attend to your duties better?" john gets oilcan, which he applies to each ear of the figure, which strikes a high note and sings with much expression and many trills, then makes a gurgling sound, as if running down, and suddenly stops again. costume: evening dress. viii. the yankee description: a tall, thin man, clean shaven, but for a tuft on chin, dressed in black, with broad-brimmed straw hat. he is seated on a low rocking-chair, with his legs resting on the back of another chair. he holds a wooden stick, which he is whittling with a jackknife. "you here behold a specimen of our irrepressible, indomitable native yankee, who has been everywhere, seen everything and knows everything. he has explored the arid jungles of africa, drawn forth the spotted cobra by his prehensile tail, snowballed the russian bear on the snowy slopes of alpine forests, and sold wooden nutmegs to the unsuspecting innocents of patagonia. he has peddled patent medicines in the desert of sahara, and hung his hat and carved his name on the extreme top of the north pole. the only difficulty i find in describing him is that i cannot tell what he cannot do. i will therefore set him in motion, as he hates to be quiet." when, wound up he pushes his hat back on his head and begins to whittle. ix. the cannibal "here you behold a curious cannibal from the feejee islands, first discovered by captain cook, who came very near being cooked by him. in that case, the worthy captain would never have completed his celebrated voyage round the world. this individual was greatly interested in the cause of foreign missions. indeed, he received the missionaries gladly and gave them a place near his heart. he was finally converted by a very tough tract-distributor, who had been brought up in a bloomsbury boarding-house, and was induced to become civilized. one of his evidences of a change of life was shown by his statement that he now had but one wife, like the english. 'what have you done with the other twelve which you said you had a month ago?' asked the tract distributor. 'oh, i have eaten them!' replied the gentle savage. this cannibal was very fond of children, especially those of a tender age; he holds in his hand a war-club, with which he prepared his daily meals, also a warwhoop, which is an original one." costume: brown jersey and drawers, face and hands colored to match, very short skirt, feather headdress, large rings in nose and ears. one hand holds a war-club, the other a child's hoop. movement: when wound up he brandishes his club and raises hoop to his mouth. x. babes in the wood two men, the bigger the better, one dressed as a very small boy, the other as a little girl; each holds a penny bun. "in the next group you behold the babes in the wood, who had the misfortune to have an uncle. this wicked man hired a villain to carry these babes away into the wood and leave them to wander until death put an end to their sorrow, and the little robins covered them up with leaves. these lifelike figures represent the children just after taking their leaves of the villain. by a master stroke of genius the artist has shown very delicately that human nature is not utterly depraved, for the villain has placed in the hand of each of the innocents a penny bun as a parting present. i have been often asked 'why i did not have a figure of the villain also added to the group?' but my reply always is, 'villains are too common to be any curiosity.' "wind 'em up, john." each babe offers to the other a bite of bun alternately. xi. little red riding-hood a young lady carrying a basket on her arm. costume in accordance with the story. "here you behold little red riding-hood, a model of grand filial devotion, for she was so fond of her granny that she wandered through the forest to take the old lady's luncheon, and was eaten by the wolf for so doing, which is a warning to all children to be careful how they do much for their grandmothers, unless they are rich and can leave them something in their wills. this personage was an especial favorite with children, who love to read about her, and shed tears over her unhappy fate, although some of them think that had she been as smart as her dress, she would have been too smart to have mistaken the wolf for her grandmother, unless she had been a very homely old lady, or he had been much better looking than most wolves." when wound up, the figure curtseys and holds out her basket. xii. lady with golden locks young lady with long hair, flowing over her shoulders, holds bottle (labelled mrs. blank's hair restorer) and curling-tongs. "this is one of the most expensive of my costly collection, for blonde hair is very high, and you see how heavy and long are the golden locks which adorn her beautiful face. i cannot pass this figure without saying a few words in praise of the wonderful hair restorer, for this image had grown so bald from the effect of long journeys by road or rail that she was exhibited for two years as the old man of the mountain. one bottle of this wonderful fluid, however, restored her hair to its present growth and beauty, and a little of the fluid being accidentally spilled upon the pine box in which the figure was carried, it immediately became an excellent hair trunk." chapter x. church and school socials art exhibitions--list of exhibitors--"artists"--curiosities--explanations-- suggestions "art" exhibition the elaborate "sell" which goes by this name used to be a regular institution in church bazaars and might well be rejuvenated as a novelty. a regular printed catalogue is got up, containing apparently the names of a collection of pictures or sculptures, each object duly numbered and with the name of the artist appended. in some instances the name of a (supposed) picture is followed by an appropriate quotation in poetry or prose, after the orthodox fashion of art galleries. we append, by way of illustration, a selection from the catalogue of a collection which has met with great success: exhibition of the works of living artists part i. works of art . horse fair after rosa bonheur. . a brush with a cutter off deal carpenter. . caught in a squall off yarmouth fisher. . the last of poor dog tray barker. . "he will return, i know he will" lent by the trustees of the parish. . the midnight hour. c. lock. . heroes of waterloo. schumacher. . true to the core. c. odling. . "spring, spring, beautiful spring!" mayne. . "tears, idle tears." strong. . the midnight assassin. f. sharpe. . the dripping well. t. inman. . family jars. potter. . never too late to mend. s. titch. . past healing. kobler. . the first sorrow. smalchild. . saved. s. kinflint . lost . first love. sweet. . the death of the camel. after goodall. . his first cigar. a. young. . a good fellow gone. m. i. slade. . portrait of a gentleman. anonymous. . portrait of a lady. anonymous. . our churchwardens. screw. . portraits of the reigning sovereigns of europe. (taken by special order). g. p. o. . waifs of ocean. fish. "strange things come up to look at us, the monsters of the deep." . the last man. unknown. . contribution from the celebrated sheepsbanks collection. butcher. . the light of other days. dimm. . the meet of her majesty's hounds. pratt. . water scene. "and i hear those waters rolling from the mountain springs with a sweet inland murmur." . the maiden's joy. bachelor. . the fall. adam. . motherhood. "she laid it where the sunbeams fall unscanned upon the broken wall, without a tear, without a groan, she laid it near a mighty stone which some rude swain had haply cast thither in sports, long ages past. there in its cool and quiet bed, she set her burden down and fled; nor flung, all eager to escape, one glance upon the perfect shape that lay, still warm and fresh and fair, but motionless and soundless there." --c. s. calverley. . a friendly party on hampstead heath. moke. . borrowed plumes. wigg. . out for the night. anonymous. . something to adore. anonymous. . the weaned grinder. mayne force. "change and decay in all around i see." . repentance. g. templar. . maggie's secret. rossetter. . somebody's luggage. s. canty. . eusebius. b. linkers. . happy childhood. wackford squeers. . not such a fool as he looks. the exhibitor. . a choice collection of old china. . a fine specimen of local quartz discovered in the possession of a workman. during the building of the new town hall. . the skull of the last of the mohicans. . a marble group. . bust. . the puzzle. . the instantaneous kid reviver. . the earnest entreaty. explanation anyone not in the secret, perusing the above catalogue, would naturally conclude that the descriptions referred to pictorial art of some kind or other. but such is by no means the case. the visitor, on being admitted, finds, in place of the expected pictures, shelves or tables on which are arranged sundry very commonplace objects, each bearing a numbered ticket. on close examination he finds that the numbers correspond with those in the catalogue, and that no. , "horse fair"--fare--is represented after a realistic fashion by a handful of oats and a wisp of hay. no. , which he expected to find a spirited marine sketch, is in reality only a toothbrush lying beside a jack-plane; while the supposed companion picture, "caught in a squall off yarmouth," is represented by a red herring. no. , "the last of poor dog tray," is a sausage, and the exhibitor particularly begs that no gentleman will on any account whistle while passing this picture. no. , "he will return, i know he will," presumably the agonized cry of a forsaken maiden, is in reality a poor-rate collector's paper, marked "fifth application." no. is represented by a numbered ticket only, with no object attached to it. the exhibitor explains that "the midnight hour" has not yet arrived, but that any gentleman who likes to wait till it does (which will be at twelve o'clock punctually), is very welcome to do so. the "heroes of waterloo," wellington and blucher, no. , are represented by a couple of boots known by those distinguished names. , "true to the core," is a rosy-cheeked apple. is a coil of watch spring. , "tears, idle tears," on which the exhibitor feelingly expatiates as a noble example of the imaginative in art, is an onion. the space dedicated to no. is occupied by the numbered ticket only, the exhibitor explaining that "the midnight assassin" (who is stated to be a large and lively flea) has strolled away and is wandering at large about the room; and he adds an entreaty that any lady or gentleman who may meet with him will immediately return him to his place in the collection. "the dripping well" (no. ) proves to be of the description more usually known as a dripping-pan. "family jars," by potter, is found to consist of a pickle jar and jam pot. no. , "never too late to mend," is a boot patched all over; while , "past healing," is its fellow, too far gone to admit of like renovation. "the first sorrow" is a broken doll. "saved" is a money box, containing twopence halfpenny, mostly in farthings. the next is a vacant space, over which the exhibitor passes with the casual remark, "no. , as you will observe, is unfortunately lost." no. , "first love," is a piece of taffy. , "the death of the camel," is a straw, labeled "the last," and the exhibitor explains that this is the identical straw that broke the camel's back. "his first cigar" is a mild havana of brown paper. "a good fellow gone" is suggested, rather than represented, by an odd glove. nos. and are represented by two small mirrors, which are handed to a lady and a gentleman respectively, with a few appropriate remarks as to the extreme success of the likenesses, coupled with critical remarks as to the "expression" in each case. "our churchwardens" are a pair of long clay pipes. no. , "portraits of the reigning sovereigns of europe," are represented by a few cancelled foreign postage stamps. "the monsters of the deep," in no. , are represented by a periwinkle and a shrimp. "the last man" (no. ), is at present missing from his place in the collection, but the exhibitor explains that he will be seen going out just as the exhibition closes. the "contribution from the sheepshanks collection" ( ), is a couple of mutton bones; while "the light of other days" ( ) is an old-fashioned lantern and tinder box. "the meet (meat) of her majesty's hounds" is a piece of dog biscuit. no. is a leaky can of water. "the maiden's joy" (obviously) is a wedding ring. "the fall" is a lady's veil. no. , "motherhood," is the gem of the collection, and should be kept carefully hidden (say by a handkerchief thrown over it) until the company have had time to read and appreciate mr. caverley's graceful lines, when the veil is removed, and behold--an egg! no. , "a friendly party on hampstead heath," is represented by three toy donkeys. "borrowed plumes" are represented by a lady's false front. "out for the night" is an extinguished candle. "something to adore" is a rusty bolt. "the wearied grinder" is a back tooth of somebody's very much the worse for wear. "repentance" (no. ) is represented by a smashed hat and a bottle of sodawater. "maggie's secret" is a gray hair, labeled "her first." no. , "somebody's luggage," consists of a broken comb and a paper collar. "eusebius" is a pair of spectacles. "happy childhood" is indicated by a lithe and "swishy" cane. when the company arrive at no. , the corresponding object is apparently missing. the exhibitor refers to his notes and says: " -- ? i see they have written down against no. , 'the exhibitor,' but i don't see quite what they mean. suppose we pass on to the curiosities, ladies and gentlemen." no. is merely some smashed crockery, and no. a pewter quart pot. no. is again a vacant space, and the exhibitor explains that "the last of the mohicans" has just gone home to his tea, and has taken his skull with him. no. is, as its name implies, a group of marbles, of the school boy character. no. is a paper bag of peas, and, being too full, has "bust." "the puzzle" (no. ) is an old guide book. "the instantaneous kid reviver" is a baby's feeding bottle; and the "earnest entreaty" is the request of the exhibitor that the visitors will recommend the collection to their friends. if the "showman" be possessed of a good fund of talk and a dash of dry humor, the fun of the collection may be still further enhanced by his explanations and criticisms of the various objects. poor artemus ward's celebrated lecture is an excellent model to copy; indeed, many of his "bits" may be stolen bodily with very satisfactory result. even without the aid of a showman, the comparison of the poetical descriptions and the sober reality will produce a good deal of fun; but, in this case, the various blanks or vacant spaces to be filled up by explanation must necessarily be omitted--a good many telling items being thereby sacrificed. chapter xi. optical illusions raising the ghost--magic lantern pictures--phantasmagoria--chinese shadows--wonderful mirror--multiplied money raising a ghost place a small magic lantern in a box large enough to contain a small swing dressing-glass, which will reflect the light thrown on it by the lantern in such a way that it will pass out at the aperture made at the top of the box, which aperture should be oval and of a size adapted to the cone of light to pass through it. there should be a flap with hinges, to cover the opening, that the inside of the box may not be seen. there must be holes in that part of the box which is over the lantern, to let out the smoke; and over this must be placed a chafing-dish, of an oblong figure, large enough to hold several lighted coals. this chafing-dish, for the better carrying on the deception, may be inclosed in a painted tin box, about a foot high, with a hole at top, and should stand on four feet, to let the smoke of the lantern escape. there must also be a glass planned to move up and down in the groove, and so managed by a cord and pulley that it may be raised up and let down by the cord coming through the outside of the box. on this glass the spectre (or any other figure you please) must be painted, in a contracted or squat form, as the figure will reflect a greater length than it is drawn. when you have lighted the lamp in the lantern and placed the mirror in a proper direction, put the box on a table, and, setting the chafing-dish in it, throw some incense in powder on the coals. you then open the trap door and let down the glass in the groove slowly, and when you perceive the smoke diminish, draw up the glass, that the figure may disappear, and shut the trap-door. this exhibition will afford much wonder. the lights in the room must be extinguished, and the box should be placed on a high table, that the aperture through which the light comes out may not be seen. a magic-lantern trick the light of the magic-lantern and the color of images may not only be painted on a cloth, but also reflected by a cloud of smoke. provide a box of wood or pasteboard, about four feet high and seven or eight inches square at bottom, but diminishing as it ascends, so that its aperture at the top be but six inches long and half an inch wide. at the bottom of this box there must be a door that shuts quite close, by which you are to place in the box a chafing-dish with hot coals, on which is to be thrown incense, whose smoke goes out in a cloud at the top of the box; on this cloud you are to throw the light that comes out of the lantern, and which you bring into a smaller compass by drawing out the movable tube. in this representation, the motion of the smoke does not at all change the figures, which appear so conspicuous that the spectator thinks he can grasp them with his hand. in the experiment, some of the rays passing through the smoke, the representation will be much less vivid than on the cloth; and if care be not taken to reduce the light to its smallest focus, it will be still more imperfect. the phantasmagoria in showing the common magic-lantern, the spectators see a round circle of light with the figures in the middle of it; but in the phantasmagoria they see the figures only, without any circle of light. the exhibition is produced by a magic lantern, placed on that side of a half-transparent screen which is opposite to that on which the spectators are, instead of being on the same side, as in the ordinary exhibition of the magic lantern. to favor the deception, the slides are made perfectly opaque, except in those places that contain the figures to be exhibited, and in these light parts the glass is covered with a more or less transparent tint, according to the effect required. the easiest way is to draw the figures with water colors on thin paper and afterward varnish them. to imitate the natural motions of the objects represented, several pieces of glass placed behind each other are occasionally employed. by removing the lantern to different distances, and at the same time altering, more or less distinct, at the pleasure of the exhibitor; so that, to a person unacquainted with the effect of optical instruments, these figures appear actually to advance and recede. transparent screens for the phantasmagoria are prepared by spreading white wax, dissolved in spirits of wine or oil of turpentine, over thin muslin; a screen so prepared may be rolled up without injury. a clearer screen may be produced by having the muslin always strained upon a rectangular frame, and preparing it with turpentine, instead of wax; but such a screen is not always convenient, and cannot be rolled without cracking, and becoming in a short time useless. chinese shadows in a partition wall cut an aperture of any size; for example, four feet in length and two in breadth, so that the lower edge may be about five feet from the floor, and cover it with white italian gauze, varnished with gum-copal. provide several frames of the same size as the aperture, covered with the same kind of gauze, and delineate upon the gauze different figures, such as landscapes and buildings, analogous to the scenes which you intend to exhibit by means of small figures representing men and animals. these figures are formed of pasteboard, and their different parts are made movable, according to the effect intended to be produced by their shadows, when moved backward and forward behind the frames, at a small distance from them. to make them act with more facility, small wires, fixed to their movable parts, are bent backward and made to terminate in rings, through which the fingers of the hand are put, while the figure is supported on the left by means of another iron wire. in this manner they may be made to advance or recede and to gesticulate, without the spectators observing the mechanism by which they are moved; and as the shadow of these figures is not observed on the paintings till they are opposite those parts which are not strongly shaded, they may thus be concealed and made to appear at the proper moments, and others may be occasionally substituted in their stead. it is necessary, when the figures are made to act, to speak a dialogue, suited to their gestures, and imitate the noise occasioned by different circumstances. the paintings must be illuminated from behind by means of a reverberating lamp, placed opposite to the center of the painting, and distant from it about four or five feet. various amusing scenes may be represented in this manner by employing small figures of men and animals, and making them move in as natural a way as possible, which will depend on the address and practice of the person who exhibits them. a wonderful mirror make two openings of a foot high and ten inches wide and about a foot distant from each other, in the wainscoting of a wall; let them be at the common height of a man's head; and in each of them place a transparent glass, surrounded with a frame, like a common mirror. behind this partition place two mirrors, one on the outward side of each opening, inclined to the wainscot at an angle of forty-five degrees; let them both be eighteen inches square; let all the space between them be enclosed by boards or pasteboard, painted black and well closed, that no light may enter; let there be also two curtains to cover them, which may be drawn aside at pleasure. when a person looks into one of these supposed mirrors, instead of seeing his own face he will perceive the object that is in the front of the other; so that, if two persons present themselves at the same time before these mirrors, instead of each one seeing himself, they will reciprocally see each other. there should be a sconce with a candle or lamp placed on each side of the two glasses in the wainscot, to enlighten the faces of the persons who look in them, otherwise this experiment will have no remarkable effect. this recreation may be considerably improved by placing the two glasses in the wainscot in adjoining rooms, and a number of persons being previously placed in one room, when a stranger enters the other, you may tell him his face is dirty, and desire him to look in the glass, which he will naturally do; and on seeing a strange face he will draw back; but returning to it, and seeing another, another and another, what his surprise will be is more easy to conceive than express. when one looks in a mirror placed perpendicularly to another, his face will appear entirely deformed. if the mirror be a little inclined, so as to make an angle of eighty degrees (that is, one-ninth part from the perpendicular), he will then see all the parts of his face, except the nose and forehead; if it be inclined to sixty degrees (that is, one-third part), he will appear with three noses and six eyes; in short, the apparent deformity will vary at each degree of inclination; and when the glass comes to forty-five degrees (that is, half-way down), the face will vanish. if, instead of placing the two mirrors in this situation, they are so disposed that their junction may be vertical, their different inclinations will produce other effects, as the situation of the object relative to these mirrors is quite different. the disappearing paper attach to a dark wall a round piece of paper an inch or two in diameter, and, a little lower, at the distance of two feet on each side, make two marks; then place yourself directly opposite to the paper, and hold the end of your finger before your face in such a manner that when the right eye is open it shall conceal the mark on the right; if you then look with both eyes to the end of your finger, the paper, which is not at all concealed by it from either of your eyes, will, nevertheless, disappear. multiplied money take a large drinking-glass, of a conical form, that is, small at bottom and wide at top, and, having put into it a dime, let it be half filled with water; then place a plate upon the top of the glass, and turn it quickly over, that the water may not get out; a piece of silver as large as half a dollar will immediately appear on the plate, and somewhat higher up another piece of the size of a dime. multiplying shadows a dummy figure (suppose that of a witch, riding on the conventional broomstick) is suspended by fine threads or wires on the screen remote from the spectators. behind this are ranged, one behind the other, and at right angles to the screen, a row of lighted candles. being all in the same line, they throw one shadow only on the screen. the figure is now made to oscillate slightly, so as to impart some little motion to the shadow. one of the candles is now removed from its place in the row, and waved gently about, now high, now low, the effect to the spectators being that a second shadow springs out of the first, and dances about it on the screen. a second and third candle is then removed, and waved up and down, each candle as it leaves its place in the line, producing a separate shadow. it is well to have three or four assistants, each taking a candle in each hand. chapter xii table games for adults dominoes--backgammon--checkers--jenkins--zoo--stray syllables--chess dominoes at the beginning of the game the dominoes are thoroughly shuffled by being turned face down and stirred round and round. the players then draw at random as many bones as the game requires. these dominoes with which the hand is to be played may stand on their edges in front of the players or may be held in the hand, or both. it is usual to sort them into suits as far as possible. the one who has drawn the highest doublet usually plays or sets first. the object in dominoes is either to block the game so that the adversary cannot play or it is to make the two ends when added together equal to some multiple of a given number, or it is to make both ends of the line the same. the player first getting rid of all his pieces is "domino." dominoes are made in sets known by the number of pips on the highest domino or bone in the set. the standard set is double-sixes and contains twenty-eight bones. some persons use double-nines. in the double-six set there are seven "suits," each named after some number from six to blank. in each of these suits there are seven bones, but each domino in a suit, except the doublet, belongs to some other suit as well. the lower figure on each domino shows the other suit to which it belongs. all games of dominoes, except matadore, are based on the principle of following suit or matching. the first player "sets" a certain domino, and after that each player must play one of the same suit, the suit called for being always that of the exposed or open end. backgammon the object of each player is to get all his men into his home table, and as soon as they have all arrived to throw them off the board altogether. the one that succeeds in doing this first wins the game. each of two players has fifteen men, known as black and white, and each should have his own dice-box. almost all of the folding checker boards are marked on the reverse side for backgammon, and the fifteen men of each color in a checker set are intended for backgammon players. the two sides of the board nearer the players are called tables, and the table with only two men on two of the points is called the inner table. it is also the home table of the player who sits with that side of the board nearer to him. it does not matter which way the board is turned, as the arrow points are alternately light and dark all the way round in either direction, but it is usual to place the side of the board with only two men on points nearest the window, so that there shall be a good light on the home tables. the points in the home tables are known by their numbers, which correspond to the faces of a die, and are called: ace point, deuce point, trey point, four point, five point, and six point. the point immediately across the bar which divides the two tables is called the "bar point," not because it is next the bar, but because it bars the two adverse men in your home table from running away with double sixes if you can "make it up." checkers the object of the game is to capture all the opponent's men and remove them from the board, or else to pin them up in such a manner that he cannot move. if neither player can accomplish this, the game is drawn. a board divided into sixty-four squares is used. these are of dark and light color. each player receives twelve men, known as white and black. at the beginning of the game the board is so placed that each player shall have two of his men touching the edge of the board at his left. the men are set on the black squares. the squares upon the board are supposed to be numbered from one to sixty-four, beginning at the upper left-hand corner upon the side of the board occupied by the black men. in giving the moves the first figures are the moves of a black man. the next figures are the moves of a white man. as the men never leave the color upon which they are first placed, all moves must be diagonal. a man can move only one square at a time, and only to a square which is in front of him diagonally and is not occupied. if a square to which a man might move is occupied by an adverse piece, that piece can be jumped over if there is a vacant square immediately beyond him. the capturing piece moves to this vacant square, and the man jumped over is removed from the board. two or more men may sometimes be captured simultaneously. when a piece may be captured the player is obliged to take it. if he does not, his adversary can compel him to take back his move and make the capture, or can remove from the board the piece that should have made the capture, or can let the matter stand. if there are two different captures on the board at the same time the player can take his choice of them. jenkins any number of players may play this game, which is common to almost every nation, and is very interesting. sides being formed, the players seat themselves at a table, facing each other. it having been decided who shall first hold the silver piece, the player who receives it holds it in his closed hand under the table, as do all the players on his side, when they receive it, and the piece is passed from hand to hand, the object being to deceive the opposite players as to its whereabouts. the captain of the side which has not the coin now calls: "jenkins says hands up," and all the hands come up, closed; then "jenkins says hands down," and all the hands fall, palms downward, on the table. there should be much noise to drown the clink of the piece as it falls on the table. the opposing side now tries to guess the side which has not the coin. the captain directs the players who have not the piece to take their "hands off." none of his side may give this order. should any do so the coin is forfeited. should the captain make a mistake and call up a hand under which the coin is hidden, the piece remains with the same side, and the number of hands still on the table counts for the side which keeps the coin. if the last hand left on the table covers the piece, it then goes to the opposing players. it is necessary to set a score. the side which makes these points wins the game. bouquet each guest receives a slip of paper, on which is written the name of a flower. when all are ready to begin, the hostess gives to each a sheet of tissue paper of the color needed to make a designated flower; also two sheets of green paper of different shades. thirty minutes are allowed for the making of the flowers. a pair of scissors and a needle and thread must be given to each guest; also some mucilage. the flowers are collected and a committee decides who has made the most perfect flower. the one who has done so receives the bouquet of flowers made by the guests. zoo the names of animals are given the players. each receives ten slips of paper numbered from one to ten. these are arranged irregularly in a pile. the slips are turned with the faces downward. the first player turns up his upper slip so that the number is visible and lays it down in front of him. in doing this, he must turn it away from himself, so that the other players see it first; the next player then does the same. should two slips coincide in number, they must each at once call each other's names--the animal names given them. the one who first calls the other's name gives away his slip to that other person, the object being to get rid of one's slips as fast as possible. if the slip turned up by the second player does not correspond in number to that turned up by the first, he also lays it down in front of him; the third player then turns his up, and this is continued around the circle until a slip is turned that corresponds in number with any that has been turned up, when those two players must immediately call each other's names. the winner is the one who first gets rid of his slips. simon says any number of players seat themselves at a table. each player makes a fist of each hand, extending the thumb. the leader says, "simon says, 'thumbs up'!" whereupon he places his own fist on the table before him, with the thumbs upward. the players do likewise. when the leader says, "simon says, 'thumbs down'," he turns his own hand over so that the tips of the thumbs touch the table. the others must imitate him. he then says, "'my thumb wiggles-waggles." he suits the action to the word, and the rest repeat his performance. if at any time the leader omits the words "simon says," and goes through the movements only with the words "thumbs up," "thumbs down," or "wigle-waggle," the players must all keep their hands still and not imitate his movements. any player doing this pays a forfeit. author's initials each player writes on a piece of paper groups of words, each group descriptive of some author, and each word beginning with one of his initials in regular order. the player who guesses the largest number of authors wins the game. example: who is the just, gentle writer? answer: john greenleaf whittier. whose stories are read alike by old and young? answer: james fennimore cooper. who was the greatest humorist? answer: "mark twain." sketches the players are provided with sheets of paper and pencils. they then write a description of some historical character. the object is to give a description that is truthful, yet misleading, in a way, so as to make the guessing a little harder. one player reads his description. the others ask questions that may be answered by "yes" and "no." the one guessing correctly reads his description next. stray syllables the same syllable is often seen in different words. you can prove this by playing the following game: each player writes several words on a long strip of paper, leaving spaces between the different words. this having been done the syllables are cut out and shuffled. each player draws three syllables. the guests seat themselves at small tables, and try to fashion words from the syllables, either using two or three of them. if it is impossible to do this, they must be returned and others are taken in their place. another trial at word-making is given, and the one who, after a definite time, has made the most words out of his syllables, wins a prize. shakespearean romance one of shakespeare's plays is selected, and as many questions are arranged in connection with it as the writer can think of. these are given to the players. example: about what time of the month were they married? answer: twelfth-night. of whom did they buy the ring? answer: merchant of venice. in what kind of a place did they live? answer: hamlet. parodies pencils and paper are given the guests, and a subject for the parody is given. this may be a poem or a story, as selected by the hostess. the parodies are collected and read. the company decides which is the best one. to this one a handsome copy of the poem or story is given. london on a large, oblong slate draw with a slate pencil a diagram, as follows: horizontal lines every two inches across the narrow part of the slate. pieces of paper are blown over the diagram toward the top of the slate; or beans or pieces of chalk may be substituted for the paper. one of these is called a "chipper." if you use beans, snap them over the diagram with the fingers. where the "chipper" stops, draw a mark to represent a small round "o." this depicts a man's head. the "chipper," having been returned to the starting point, is again snapped over the diagram. this continues until the player has marked a head in each of the spaces; or should his chipper land a second time in a space in which he has already marked such a head, he makes a larger round "o" under the head, to represent the body of a man. the third time it lands in this place he makes a downward stroke for a leg, and the fourth time, one for a second leg, which completes the man. should three complete men be so drawn in one space, the player, without shooting again, draws what are called "arms," that is, a horizontal line from the figure across the space to the outside limit. this occupies the space completely and keeps the other players out of it. he continues to play until his "chipper" lands on a line. if this goes beyond the diagram, the player is "out." each player takes a turn. he can start, or complete men, in any space not occupied with three armed men, even though the former player may have started men in the space or have completed two of them. a player can build only on his own men. the one drawing the largest number of spaces with three armed men is the winner. chess chess is a game which can only be played by two persons at the same time. the requisites are a board consisting of squares of alternate black and white, and pieces of wood, ivory, bone or other composition, which are technically known as "men." the board is so placed between the players that a white square is on the extreme right of each. the "men" are called black and white, there being an equal number of each. one player takes the white and another the black. each division of is composed of a king (the capture of which is the issue of the game), a queen, rooks or castles, bishops, knights, and pawns. in commencing the game, the rooks are placed on the corner squares, next to them on each side a knight, next to the knights on each side a bishop, and then the king and queen. if white, the queen is placed on the remaining white square, if black, on the remaining black square, and thus both queens face each other. it is the same with the kings. the pawns are placed on each side on the squares immediately in front of the pieces. the player has the privilege of moving his king into any vacant square adjacent to one he is occupying, provided it is not already taken by a piece belonging to his opponent, but he can go no farther. the queen can be moved in any direction up, down, backwards, forwards, as long as there is no piece to block her. the same can be done with the rook or castle, except that it cannot be moved diagonally--the bishop can only be moved diagonally, in a backward or forward direction. the move of the knight is a combination of the rook's shortest move, followed by the bishop's shortest move. it is not hindered by intervening pawns or pieces. the pawn can only be moved one square at a time, and that in a forward direction. another pawn in front of it stops its progress. a pawn has the power of capturing an opposite pawn in either of the adjacent squares in advance and diagonally to the right or left of it when it moves into the square of the one captured. the king is never captured. when a piece or pawn attacks him he is said to be in check and the opposite player cries out "check"! the attacked king is freed from check by moving him to an adjacent square not occupied by a piece or pawn of the opposite side, or else by opposing some piece to defend him from the check. if the player cannot resort to either of these tactics to save his king he is "checkmated" and loses the game. chapter xiii outdoor games for adults lawn tennis--polo--hockey--golf--archery--ring toss--lawn bowls lawn tennis a lawn tennis court is a plot of level ground about yards by yards, divided into sections. a net standing / feet high is drawn across the middle and attached to two posts outside the court on each side about three feet. the players stand on opposite sides of the net; the one who first delivers the ball is called the server and the other the striker-out. at the end of each game they reverse places. the server wins a stroke if the striker out "volley" the service, that is, he strike the ball before it touches the ground; or if the ball is returned by the striker-out, so that it drops outside his opponent's court, the latter wins the stroke. the striker-out wins if the server serves two consecutive "faults," which consist in sending the ball to the net or outside the lines; or if the server fail to return the ball in play, the striker-out wins. either player loses a stroke if the ball touch him in the act of striking, if he touches the ball with his racket more than once, if he touch the net or any of its supports while the ball is in play, or if he "volley" the ball before it has passed the net. the player winning the first stroke gets a credit score of ; for the second he gets ; for the third , and if he wins the fourth he has the game. six games in succession entitle the winner to a _set_. for a three-handed or four-handed game the court requires to be yards in width. in a three-handed game the single player serves every alternate game. in the four-handed game the pair who have the right to serve in the first game shall decide which partner shall do so and the opposing pair shall decide in like manner for the second game. the partner of the player who served in the first game shall serve in the third, and the partner of the player who served in the second game shall serve in the fourth, and the same order is to be observed in all the succeeding games of the set. if one partner of a double team strikes at a ball and does not touch it, his partner still has the right to return it. a player or different member of a team may strike at a ball as often as he pleases, for it is still in play until hit. the server must wait until the striker-out is ready for the second service as well as the first, and if the striker-out claims to be not ready and makes no effort to return the second service, the server cannot claim the point, even though the service was good. if a player's racket touches the net after the ball has struck the latter he does not loose a point. the ball is always in play until it has struck the ground outside of the court or has touched the inside ground _twice_. a ball is "dead" the instant it strikes the ground outside of the court, and the point must be scored against the side sending the ball there, no matter what happens _after_ the ball touches the ground. in selecting a site for a lawn tennis court select a level field. lay it out north and south, if possible so as to prevent the rays of the sun from blinding the players. the court may, or may not, be grassy. as a general rule, sand courts are preferred. level the court carefully, so there will be no gradient or inequality in it. to make a foundation, use stones pounded into place, and add top-soil to a depth of seven inches or more. the ground should be often watered and rolled. sand is usually mixed with clay for a top soil, as the sand is likely to give under the running feet. in the case of a grassy court it should be constantly clipped and in addition rolled once or twice a week to keep the ground hard and even. polo polo is a game played from horseback in a large, level field. there is a goal at each end of the field in the center, the posts ten feet high and feet apart. the teams are generally four a side, but when possible a greater number may play. the regular game in this country for teams of four is of four periods of minutes of actual play each. to win a goal counts one, and the team having the largest score at the end wins the match. the equipment for the game besides the goal posts (which are generally of wood or papier-mache to prevent serious accidents) are the balls and mallets. the balls are of willow / inches in diameter, and weigh ounces. the mallet sticks are of rattan cane, and from to / feet long, set into square heads beveled at the sides and about inches long and wide. the handles are leather-wrapped to insure a good grip. as to the ponies, no blinkers are used, so that they may have a clear sight of the field. no rowels or spurs are permitted. the animals have to be trained for the purpose. each of the four players of a side has certain rules to obey governing his position. it is for number to watch the opposing back, to ride him off and clear the way for his own side when they have the ball going towards the goal. all his energies must be directed to obtaining a clear field for his side. he requires a fast pony to do the work. the position of number is the most independent and the player is called the "flying man" of the team. he must be an adept in "dribbling" out the ball so as to get a fair hit at it. as it comes to him from his side players his part is to race with it, hitting as he gallops, and in this way make the goal if he can. it is the duty of number to help his back when the latter is being hard pressed and be ready to exchange places with him when the back gets an opportunity to make a run with the ball. number is the real back, for all the others are in front of him and consequently his is the most important position. he must have a shifty pony well trained to riding work. he has to defend the goal, and therefore must be an expert "backhander," that is, quick to send back the ball to the opposing rank when it comes in the direction of his goal. it is the place of the back to knock in when the ball goes over the end line. when he is sure of the half-back player on his side he may go up into the game and make a leading attack himself, but it is nearly always well for him to avoid meeting the ball, for if he misses, the goal is left defenceless. on the whole, pony polo is an intricate game, and while it is not the sport of kings, it is only adapted to the people of leisure with whom time and money are not an object. hockey to play hockey a level field is required about yards long and yards wide. the space is marked out in whitewash lines and small flags are placed at each corner. the long lines are called _side_ lines, and the shorter ones _goal_ lines. across the center, yards from either goal, is the center line. this divides the ground in half. these halves are again equally divided by -yard lines. five yards inside each line is marked a dotted line, parallel with the side line, and which is called the five-yard line. in the middle of each goal line and yards apart are placed the goal posts, which are uprights feet high, with a horizontal bar from one to the other. fifteen yards in front of each goal is drawn a line yards long, parallel to the goal line; the ends of this line are brought round in curves to meet the goal line and the space thus inclosed is called the "striking circle." the stick and balls are the main requisites of hockey. the sticks are made of hickory. the better kind have ash blades and cane handles, such handles giving a spring which sends a clean drive without giving a jar to the hands. the balls used are about the size and weight of the average baseball. nowadays it is customary to have nets behind the goal posts, so that it may be definitely determined if there is any dispute whether the ball went clean through between the goal posts or past the outside of either. hockey requires players, on each side, consisting of forwards, half-backs, full-backs and a goal-keeper. the center forward stands in the middle of the ground. on her right about yards distant stands the inside right; the right wing stands between the -yard line and the side line; the inside left and the left wing stand on the left of the center forward. the half-backs stand yards behind the forward. the center half takes her place directly in line with the center forward; the right half covers the two right forwards, while the left half covers the two left forwards. behind, on the -yard line, stand the fullbacks, right and left; the goalkeeper stands between the goal posts about a foot in front of the goal line. the two center forwards start the game by "bullying off" the ball in the center of the field; the ball is placed on the center line while the two forwards stand with a foot on either side of the line facing each other and standing square to the side line; then the center halves and left and inside forwards on the blowing of the whistle for the "bully," close up in order to keep watch, each one ready to take the ball should it come in her direction. when one of the center forwards gets the ball she tries to pass it out to either of her own inside players, who endeavors to "dribble" it up the field until she is encountered by an opposition player, at which juncture, by a quick stroke she passes it out to the wing player. it is in this manner, by keeping a straight course and assisted by their halfbacks that the forwards by passing and "dribbling" get the ball into the "striking circle," and when they get it that length it is not a difficult matter to score a goal. golf in golf the player strikes a ball in the endeavor to send it to a particular spot. he is not met with opposition in such endeavor, as in other ball games, his opponent having also a ball which he, too, is trying to put into the same spot with fewer strokes. this spot into which the player tries to put his ball is a small hole in the earth about - / inches in diameter, and the instruments he uses for doing so are exceedingly varied. the game commences by a player hitting off from a marked line called the teeing-ground, the ball in the direction of the first hole. in a regular golf course there are generally holes, their distance apart varying from about yards to yards. the smoothly kept grounds near the holes is called the "putting-greens," and beside each "putting-green" is a marked teeing-ground. after the ball has been struck from the "tee" the player must not touch it with his hand until it is driven into the next hole, out of which he may then take it and "tee" it on the teeing ground in a good position for the drive-off to the next hole. as the holes are widely separated and the ground in many places uneven and broken up, the ball will be driven into many positions, it will lie in the grass, in sand pits or bunkers, and in all kinds of holes and hollows in the rough surface, therefore it will be readily understood that the distance the ball is sent will vary with the stroke. it is to meet the difficulties arising from having to strike the ball in its different positions that so many instruments are called into requisition for the purpose. the names of the chief sticks and implements employed in the sport are: driver, brassie, spoon, cleek, iron, mashie, niblick and putter. the driver, brassie and spoon are wooden-headed clubs, but the others have always iron heads. the driver is the club used for striking to the greatest distance when the ball is on the "tee," that is, on the little mound of sand on which it is placed at the commencement of each hole, so that more facility may be had in striking it. the putter is used on the putting--green, for short strokes round about the holes. the putting--green or ground surrounding each hole is kept level for about a radius of yards from the hole. the different sticks or clubs are graded from driver to putter in accordance with the different lengths of stroke for which they are designed. for instance, the niblick is a short club for taking the ball out of difficult positions ("lies") as when the latter gets into long grass, sand or some other awkward kind of obstruction. a good driver by well hitting the ball can send it to a distance of about yards from the tee. if the hole be so far off as to require a second stroke of equal length he can use the driver again, provided the ball is on level ground, but it is likely it will not be on such ground for the second stroke, and in such case the brassie or spoon is called on to do service. each of these instruments has the face that strikes the ball laid back more than in the driver, so that they can lift it more easily off the ground. if the ball gets into a worse position, as a bunker or sandpit, the use of the cleek, iron or niblick will become necessary. the heads of these clubs are adjusted to deal with difficult "_lies_" that is, positions in which the ball may be driven. the niblick is used for taking it out of especially bad situations. the stroke called the full swing is used with the driver. there are many other modifications of stroke, such as the three-quarter, the half and the wrist strokes. as has been said, the issue of the game depends upon sending the ball into the holes with fewer strokes than the opposition. victory is gained by the side which holes the ball with less strokes. if the sides hole out in the same number of strokes the hole is halved. a match is also won by the side which is leading by a number of holes greater than the number of holes remaining to be played. thus if jones has won six holes and smith four, and seven holes have been halved, jones, in case the round is the ordinary length of holes, will be two holes up, with only one hole remaining to be played, and therefore he, jones, wins the match. this is the general manner of playing the game in a match, each player playing his own ball. in what is known as "score" play the relative merits of several can be tested at the same time. in this kind of play the total score of each player for all of the holes is added up and the player who has the lowest total is declared the winner. archery archery has played an important part in the history of the race from the very earliest times. primitive man hurled his stone-pointed arrows at wild beasts, and as he advanced to a higher state of the observances of the laws of force he fashioned bows to give a greater impulse to his missiles. for hundreds of years the bow and arrow constituted the principal weapon of the chase, and finally became the instrument of offence and defence for armored knights, warriors and heroes. robin hood, roving the wild woods of merry england, depended upon it for his prowess, as did allan a dale and little john. in the early battles it was the chief weapon, and did effective service. in the battle of hastings it decided the issue for william the conqueror; at agincourt, crecy and poitiers victory depended on its use. skilled archers became famous all over the land, and many were their doughty deeds with the long bow. in modern time, however, with the introduction of firearms, archery declined, until it came to be but a mere memory of the past. the last century revived it, and to-day it is one of the most popular sports in england. americans, too, have taken it up with enthusiasm, and clubs are interested in it all over the land, the ladies being especially devoted to it. in the first organization of archery clubs was formed at crawfordsville, indiana, and the first annual target meeting was held in chicago in the same year. bows for archery are generally made out of tough soft wood, such as yew, with a flat outside called the back and a rounded inside called the belly; they are always strung with latter side inward. lance wood is chiefly used in the united states on account of its resistance to heat. the bow must be easily controlled, and not too heavy. the strain of drawing a heavy bow is apt to pull the bow hand out of the line of sight. a -pound bow well drawn and loosed will give a lower trajectory than one of pounds sluggishly handled. by the weight of a bow is not meant its avoirdupois, but the force necessary to draw the arrow to its head on the bow. it is all important to know how to string the bow. grasp the handle firmly with the right hand, draw it near your right side, while the lower end rests against the inside of the right foot, the back of the bow being toward you. with left foot well extended in front so as to brace the body, rest the left hand on the bow below the loop of the upper end of the string, the tip of the thumb and knuckle of forefinger pressing firmly on opposite edges of the bow. draw the bow firmly to you with the right hand, while you push down and away from you with the left. a little practice will soon give the knack. no part of the body except the face must be turned towards the target. stand with the feet at right angles to the direction of the target and have them a few inches apart. in handling the arrow avoid touching the feathers, and in the act of drawing always keep the thumb and fourth finger away from the arrow and string. as the bow is lifted, draw it three parts of the way, catch the aim, complete the draw and instantly loose. the arrows are an important consideration. never use a light arrow with a heavy bow, nor, conversely, a heavy arrow with a light bow. arrows are generally made of one piece of wood, but sometimes a harder kind is used for the part joining the tip and which is dovetailed into the shaft. the tip is formed of steel, and is cylindrical in form. the length varies. a lady's bow of feet calls for a -inch arrow, the customary length of men's arrows is inches. the target is a flat disc about four feet in diameter made from straw and covered with an oilcloth or white sheet painted in concentric rings of gold, red, blue, black and white, each color of which, when penetrated by the arrow counts so many points in the aim. the gold is the objective point of the archer, the "bull's eye," as it is called. three arrows are shot by each archer in turn, then three more, the six constituting an end. a certain number of ends complete a given range, while two or three ranges form a round. here is the american round: arrows at yards. arrows at yards. arrows at yards. ring toss this is a very simple game. a stake is driven into the ground for a flagstaff. at a distance of, say nine feet, stakes are arranged as follows: four at equal distances, back of these, at a short distance, three; then two; then one. the setting for nine pins is the same. each stake is numbered from ten, beginning on the left hand side, to one hundred, which is the apex of the setting. iron rings are tossed from the flagstaff by each player. a score is kept. the one getting the greatest number of points is the winner. lawn bowls lawn bowls, although but recently introduced into the united states, is, however, one of the oldest games in existence, and is believed to have been played by the ancient greeks and romans. scotland has brought this game to its present state of perfection. the game is played as follows: select a level lawn, or a floor will answer if this game be played indoors. choose sides, giving those of a side, balls of a similar color. a ball of a third color is called the jack. the one holding it begins the play by rolling the ball over the lawn. where it stops is the goal. the others try to strike the jack. the one doing this is the winner of the game. or put a nine pin, or nine pins, at a distance from the players, and try to strike as is done in a bowling alley. chapter xiv holiday games and amusements new year's--lincoln's day--valentine party--easter egg party--hallowe'en games--flag day--thanksgiving--christmas new year's eve party the decorations for the room are holly and mistletoe. the guests are attired in white to represent snow, or they may appear in fur-trimmed garments. at midnight all sing "auld lang syne," and shake hands. calendars are appropriate souvenirs for the occasion. at midnight all wish each other "a happy new year." children's new year games give the children pencils and paper. let them write out their resolutions for the new year. these may be grave or funny as desired. give calendars as souvenirs. lincoln's day recite poems about lincoln. tell stories about him. explain why "uncle tom's cabin" is a suitable book to read on this day. if possible give tableaux suited to the occasion. those taken from uncle tom's cabin are eminently suitable. valentine party the evening is opened with the playing of a game of hearts. each lady receives a red paper heart, and is requested to write her name on the back of it. the hearts are shuffled and put in a bowl; the men's hearts are put in another bowl. a lady chooses a heart from the men's bowl, then a man chooses from the ladies' bowl. the lady is partner for the evening of the man whose heart she drew and vice versa. valentines are given, and are read aloud by the recipient. comic ones are admissible if not vulgar. valentine mottoes also are given. washington's birthday a martha washington party in costume with a supper in colonial time style. dance the minuet and old-time dances. for april first this is april fool's day. it may be made the occasion of a party. games suitable to the occasion are played; among them pinning a tail to the picture of a tailless donkey fastened on the wall. this may be drawn by one of the children. tails are slightly pinned on the children among themselves. april fool candy is served, and glasses are offered which appear to have lemonade in them, but which are so made that no liquor can be drunk from them, etc. the one who is not fooled all evening receives a prize--the funnier it is the better. it may be a "nigger doll" or the like. a donkey is given as a booby prize to the one most often fooled. this fooling can be done in any way which suggests itself. easter egg parties color hard-boiled eggs and hide them. give your little guests pretty baskets and let them hunt for the eggs, or give each a large wooden spoon to spoon them up. if you live in the country roll eggs down hill at one place as a target at the foot of it. draw a bunny holding an egg. pin it to the wall. the one who, blindfolded, succeeds in putting a pin in the egg receives eggs as presents. flag day display flags liberally. tell stories about the american flag. sing "america," "star-spangled banner," etc. salute "old glory." a hallowe'en party the usual hallowe'en tricks are tried such as the following: a ring, a piece of money and a thimble are hidden; the player who finds the ring will be first married, or these articles may be baked in a cake which is cut and distributed. the one getting the money will be prosperous, the getter of the thimble industrious, the getter of the ring will soon be married. bobbing for apples bobbing for apples. all children like this. in a tub of water several apples float. the children try to capture them with their teeth. floating needles grease needles and let them float in a bowl of water, upon which tissue paper is laid. each child has his, or her, own needle. it is amusing to watch the action of the needle when the paper sinks--as it does when it becomes saturated--the needles rush about. candle and looking-glass each person in turn walks downstairs backwards, alone in the dark, with a looking-glass in one hand and a lighted candle in the other. the future husband or wife will be seen--? or, run around the house three times with your mouth full of water--at midnight. melted lead poured into water results in queer figures which sometimes resemble initials; these are supposed to be those of the future husband or wife. the water charm: put three dishes on a table--one empty, one containing clean water, one soapy water; the blindfolded ones put a finger into one of the dishes, the position of which are changed after the blindfolding. if he puts his finger in clear water a happy marriage will result. apple games put a basket on the wall halfway up. the players stand at a distance and throw apples into the basket. a score is kept, the one putting the greatest number of apples into the basket receiving the prize. thanksgiving party this may be held in a barn. the stalls may be draped with bright-colored goods and decorated with greens, or autumn leaves. japanese lanterns are strung about. chrysanthemums should be the table flowers. old-time dances are danced, such as the virginia reel, money musk, etc. pumpkin pies, grapes, nuts and cider are served as a part of the collation. kris kringle party a kris kringle party may be taken in the open--in sleighs. the driver is dressed as kris kringle. after a sleigh ride in large sleighs drawn by horses decorated to represent reindeer, the party returns to an elaborate christmas supper. christmas songs should be sung, well-known christmas carols, as "'tis the eve of christmas day," "merry bells," "the christmas tree," etc. shadow pantomimes are a good form of entertainment for christmas. they should carry out the idea of the festival. any of the merry games given in the book may be played. the winter games are especially recommended. snowball battle throw ball at a target and keep a score, or build a snow fort and make it the target. christmas guesses suspend mistletoe from a chandelier. let the children in turn guess how many berries are on the suspended bush. the one guessing most correctly wins a prize. "the night before christmas" is read. as the names are named the children arise and turn around, then sit down again. santa claus is mentioned last. when he is spoken of all change seats. the story teller tries to secure a seat. if she succeeds there is an odd player. he must tell a funny story. jack frost sing and act out the jack frost song,--"jack frost is a roguish little fellow," etc., etc. the music and words may be obtained at a music store. jesus bids us shine. christmas is coming. christmas greeting. lead test drop melted lead into cold water. it assumes queer shapes. hallowe'en stories are told. apple tests peel an apple without breaking the peeling. throw the skin over your shoulder and see what shape it assumes. apples are tied to a string and hung from the chandelier. the boys and girls try to bite these without touching them with their hands. a pumpkin game a pumpkin is scooped out and a candle is placed inside; the light shines through the holes in the pumpkin. pumpkin favors are given. all dance around the pumpkin and sing "peter, peter, pumpkin eater," etc. the christmas dinner the christmas dinner is a family reunion, generally; sometimes a friend is invited. if he be a homeless one so much the better. the turkey, of course, is part of the dinner, and pumpkin and mince pies and plum pudding are served, each guest making a choice; rosy-cheeked apples, grapes, nuts and cider form a last course. the christmas presents may be laid at the plates or may be dispensed from the christmas tree--preferably the latter. one of the party impersonates santa claus. yule-tide songs are sung and old-time christmas games are played. stockings hung behind curtains and in odd places hold candy, nuts, raisins, etc. these may be made of silk or any pretty material. the guests hunt for these. suggestions for games to be played at christmas time or at thanksgiving put a very large pumpkin in the center of the room or on a grass plot. the players stand at a distance. each one runs and jumps over the pumpkin, using both feet. in so doing a score is kept. the one jumping over _with both feet together_ the oftenest wins the pumpkin. or dance about the pumpkin; when a small child sitting on it claps or whistles all stop. she selects a player with whom she changes place. this game may be played by adults, the player standing near the pumpkin. chapter xv outdoor games for girls basket ball--box ball--guess ball--target ball--string ball basket ball for girls basket ball is a good form of exercise for women. draw a circle on the ground six feet in diameter. a line is drawn across the center. this is the throwing line. a player stands in the circle and throws the basket ball from her line to other lines, the ball scoring according to its landing place. the lines drawn across the throwing space must be parallel with the throwing line in the circle. for younger girls the lines should be ten, fourteen or twenty feet, according to the age, from the forward edge of the circle. the players of each team throw in rapid succession. each player has but one turn, unless the ball strikes some object before touching the ground, when another trial is allowed. at starting a thrower must stand in the circle and toe the throwing line, drawn across the center of the circle. in completing the throw she must not fall or step forward over the outer line of the circle in front of her. if at any part of the throw, from start to finish, the thrower be out of the circle it is considered a foul and does not score, the number of players in the team being counted as one less when the total or average is figured. for each throw to the first line or any point between it and the next line, a team scores one point. for each throw to the second line or between it and the next line a team scores three points. for each throw to or beyond the third line, a team scores five points. the team averaging or adding the largest score wins first place in the game. there are other forms of basket ball games, where girls throw balls into baskets fastened at a given height. box ball boxes are placed on the floor or ground in a row. the players in line stand at a distance from these, each player facing a box. the play is begun at the right of the line and each tries to toss her ball into the box. when one succeeds in doing this, all run except the one into whose box the ball fell. she picks up the ball, and tries to throw it so as to strike one of the players (of course a soft ball is used). if she fails a stone is put into her box. the game is continued by the same player, but she tries to throw her ball into another box. if she strikes a player with her ball, the one who is struck receives a stone, and she then starts to throw her ball. the game is continued as above. when a player has five stones she goes out of the game. guess ball use a soft ball. the players form in line. one stands before them, with back turned, at a distance of several feet. this player counts up to a certain number, as the ball passes back and forth along the line; as a certain number is called, the holder of the ball throws it so as to strike one of the players. if this player is hit, she turns suddenly and tries to guess by the attitude of the players which one threw the ball. if she guesses correctly, she goes to the front. if the ball misses, the thrower changes places with the one she aimed at. target ball there are so many variations of this game that it is impossible to describe them all. a target is placed and the balls are thrown at it; or several targets at different distances may be aimed at by the players. a score is kept. the one getting the greatest number of points wins the game. or sides may be formed. bombardment this game is played with balls and indian clubs--half as many as there are players. bean bags may be used instead of balls. a score is decided upon, and an umpire keeps the record. each player, in throwing, tries to knock down a club, and this club counts for one or more, up to the number decided upon by the players. string ball the players stand in a circle around the ball, which is hung by a string--in the open--from the branch of a tree. a player tries to strike it with her hand. another tries to catch it before she strikes it again. if the ball is not caught the player scores one. she plays until it is caught. each has a turn. chapter xvi pastimes for children sun dial--mother, may i play?--blind man's buff--tug of war--various ball games sun dial draw a large circle; intersect this with lines like the spokes of a wheel, dividing it into twelve sections, and number them. put a blindfolded player in the center for a hub, and turn him about a number of times, as is done in "blindman's buff." he then walks about. the number of the space he stops upon, after repeating a silly verse to the end, is put upon his score card. if he goes outside the circle, even with one foot, he receives no points. the player who gets the greatest number of points in a given time, wins the game. mother, may i go out to play? the mother stands before her children. one asks: "mother, may i go out to play?" "no," says the mother, "it is a very wet day." "see, mother, the sun shines." "well, be off," says the mother; "but make three courtesies before you go." the child then does this, the other children doing the same. they all run off and return. "why did you run so far?" says the mother. "where did you go, and what have you been doing all this time?" "brushing mary's hair," says the first player. "what did she give you for so doing?" "a silver penny." "where's my share of it?" "the cat ran away with it." "where's the cat?" "in the wood." "where's the wood?" "fire burnt it." "where's the fire?" "water quenched it." "where's the water?" "moo cow drank it." "where's the moo cow?" "sold it for a silver penny." "what did you do with the money?" "bought nuts with it." "what did you do with them?" "you can have the nut shells, if you like." the last words being rude, the mother chases the child or children, according to the manner in which the game is played. she asks as she does this, "where's my money?" the one addressed answers, "you may have the nut shells." the mother tries to catch one or more of the children to inflict punishment. the punishments are usually funny acts of some kind. garden scamp all but two players form a ring, and clasp hands. the garden is enclosed by the players. one of the odd players will be the scamp; another player is the gardener. he moves around outside of the circle, and says, "who let you into my garden?" the scamp replies, "no one," and starts to run. the gardener follows his lead in and out among the players, who lift their hands to allow this. if the scamp be caught he becomes the gardener. the scamp can lead the gardener a lively chase, for he can play leap frog, or turn somersaults, if he so desires. the gardener must imitate him. do this, do that the players face each other in two lines, the leader being in the center. when he says, "do this," they obey, and when he quickly follows his first order by saying, "do that," the "that" being another act, they must again obey at once. if any one is slow, he must exchange places with the leader. the fun of the game depends upon the antics of the one in the ring. weather cock this is an instructive game, as it teaches children direction. each child represents a point of the compass--north, south, east, west. when a leader calls: "which way does the wind blow?" a child of whom this is asked, points either to the north, south, east or west, according to the name given him. the flowers and the wind two parties play this game. they stand at a distance apart. the players represent flowers. the first one in the line walks to the opposite line, and asks of the first one: "what flower am i?" saying this, the flower is ready to run for the wind. an odd player stands ready to give chase, if the guesser does not guess correctly. the wind, of course, is told the names of the different flowers. each player has a turn. blind man's buff one player is blindfolded, and turned about three times, in the center of the room. he tries to catch one of the other players. if he succeeds, he takes off the handkerchief and puts it upon the one touched. in one form of "blind man's buff," the blindfolded one must guess the name of the one he catches before he can remove the handkerchief. french blind man's buff in this game the players are numbered, and one is blindfolded. two numbers are called out. the ones so numbered run, and the blindfolded one tries to catch one of them, or they may run one at a time. if the one in the center catches another, he takes that one's place. blind man's buff with a wand the players dance around the blindfolded one until he touches a player with his wand. when he does this, all stand still. the one in the center may ask three questions of the one touched. he, replying, disguises his voice. if the blindfolded one succeeds in guessing whom he questioned, he exchanges places with him. hide-and-seek games a player hides, the others seek him. or any object may be hidden in an out-of-the-way place, and this is to be found by a player. when he succeeds in doing this, the handkerchief is taken from his eyes (if one is used). each child has a turn in finding the article, the place of hiding being changed each time for the new finder. follow our leader the leader walks before a line of players and performs ridiculous acts which all must imitate. if any player fails to do this, he or she is out of the game. the leader may make the players perform feats like jumping over high places, turning somersaults, climbing, etc., if the players are boys. if among the players there are girls, the feats, of necessity, must not be too hard. feats and forfeits the children are required to perform certain acts or pay a forfeit. these acts are decided upon by a committee before the guests, or players, assemble. a few feats may be suggested, such as the rabbit hop, leap frog, picking up a stick with the teeth while in a kneeling position, etc., or the player may be required to repeat "peter piper," or any ridiculous verses quickly. if he does not succeed in doing what is required of him, he must--if he is a boy--turn a somersault. if the player is a girl, she pays a forfeit or stands with her face to a corner. dumb motions the players form two sides; those on one side are "masters," the others "men." trades are represented, and the men aim to keep working so that the masters will not take their places. the tradesmen go through the motions of their trade. the master must guess the trade. when he does, he exchanges place with the one whose trade he guessed. wand tug of war wooden gymnastic wands are used, half as many as there are players. draw a line across the room or grass; divide the players into two divisions, one on each side of the line, each player facing his opponent. these grasp each other's wand, and at a signal begin to tug, but they must not put foot into the opponent's territory. if they do the struggle ceases. the side wins which secures the greatest number of wands. catch and pull tug of war in the "catch and pull tug of war," a ring is formed by joining hands and standing in a circle, and all tug to break the ring. nine pins a player takes his stand in the center of the room. the others stand in couples a few feet apart. they march around the girl or boy in the center. when the music stops suddenly, one player of each pair goes to the one in front of him. while they do this, the one in the center tries to secure a place. preliminary ball the players stand in two lines. the players of one line, at a signal, throw the balls to those opposite them. they then turn and throw against the wall, if the game is played indoors. ball dull the object of this game is to train the perceptions, the muscular sense, and the muscles themselves. the weight of the ball is suited to the players. the two-pound weights are used for girls. the couples are far enough apart to allow space for full play. one of each couple has a ball for himself and his partner. the throwing of the balls to one of the opposite side is simultaneous, when a leader gives the command. time ball in this game the children are seated. a line is drawn near the wall, and two lines are drawn to form an aisle. then the children decide upon the manner of throwing the ball. this may be done with either hand. the leader stands opposite his aisle on the line. at a signal the first player in each row runs to the mark in his aisle. when he has reached it, the leader, in the way previously agreed upon, throws him the ball, which he catches and returns. he runs back to his seat. this is repeated by each player. then the leader, seating himself, places the ball before him on the floor, or if in the open, on the ground. all assume position. the first row doing this at a signal, scores a point. this is repeated fifteen times. the row which assumes position promptly the greatest number of times win the game. railroad train the players are named for an object on a train, as smoke-stack, boiler, baggage car, wheels, conductor, etc. one player is the train master. he says: "we must hurry up and make up a train to go to new york city at once. it is a special. we will take engine number , some coal and wood; the bell must be in good order, and the carpet must be swept; the cushions dusted; the beds in the sleeper must be made up, etc." when these objects are named, the players run up to the starter when their names are given, each one putting his hands on the shoulder of the one before him, the first one having put his hands upon the starter in the same way. when all are in line, the train starts, after the signal, which is a bell. the starter may imitate the noises a locomotive makes as it starts out on its journey. he leads up hill and down dale, and the line must remain unbroken. the one who breaks the line pays a forfeit or is out of the game. the line being mended, continues its journey. merry-go-round stools are placed close together to form a circle, and all the players seat themselves, facing inwards, except one player, who stands in the center. he tries to secure the seat that has been left vacant. this is difficult, because the players on the stools keep moving to the right from one stool to the next, so that the location of the vacant seat varies. when the player in the center secures a seat, the one at his left goes into the center. if more than thirty are playing, it is better to have two vacant stools and two players in the center. pebble chase the leader holds a pebble between the palms of his hands. the others are grouped about him, each with hands extended, palm to palm. the leader then passes his hands between those of the players. no one can tell where he leaves the pebble, until some one guesses where it is. each player has a turn. the one receiving the pebble is chased by the others. if he succeeds in getting to the leader and giving the pebble to him before he is caught, he can return to his place; otherwise he changes place with the leader. how many miles to babylon? the players, being divided into two lines, stand facing each other, with a distance of about twelve feet between them. the lines pair off, and take hold of hands all along the line. a dialogue takes place between the lines, the players in a line speaking in unison. as this is done, they swing their arms and rock backward and forward from one foot to another, keeping time to the rhythm of the words, as follows: "how many miles to babylon?" "three score and ten." "will we be there by candle light?" "yes, and back again." "open your gates and let us through." "not without a beck (courtesy) and a boo (bow)." "here's a beck and here's a boo, here's a side and here's a sou; open your gates and let us through." all the players in the first line say: "here's a beck and here's a boo," as they suit the action to the word. as they do so, they also drop hands and each makes a courtesy, with hands at the hips for the "beck," and straighten up and make a deep bow forward for the "boo"; assuming an upright attitude, then, and bending the head sideways to the right for "here's a side," and to the left for "here's a sou." the partners clasp hands, and all run forward ten steps, keeping time with the rhythm of the words. then all pass under the upraised hands, which represent the city gates. this is done in four running steps, making twelve steps in all. the couples who made the gate then turn around in four running steps, until they face the first line, when they repeat the dialogue as given above, etc. puss in the corner corners are selected by some of the players; the others remain in the center of the room. the puss in a corner calls to the other puss in a corner, "puss, puss," and they try to get to each other's corner before these can be taken by the others. when this is played outdoors, trees or the corners in a fence may be utilized as were the corners of a room. chapter xvii indoor games for young children. patch work--peanut game--soap bubbles--candy pulls--cook and peas--magic music--zoology patchwork the hostess cuts pictures into four parts and mixes them in a box, or loosely places them in the center of a table. then each guest takes four and puts them together as a picture. the effect is very funny at times. some of the children's picture blocks may be used for this game, using four sets at a time. quotations the girl or boy host gives each guest, on a slip of paper, the beginning of a quotation. all go about the room looking for the end of the quotations, which are hidden in different places in the room; or, if older children are playing this game, pencils and paper are given them, and they write the full quotation. table game a penny party furnishes amusement for an evening. with the invitations is sent a request for each guest to bring a penny, not for an admission fee, but for use. for each guest there are provided two cards and a pencil; one card is blank; the other has a list of the things to be found on a penny. the list is numbered, and each person is expected to name as many as he can, prizes being awarded for the best and poorest list. find-- . top of hill. . place of worship. . an animal. . a fruit. . a common fruit. . links between absent friends. . union of youth and old age. . a vegetable. . flowers. . what we fight for. . metal. . a messenger. . a weapon of defense. . a weapon of warfare. . a body of water. . a beverage. . what young ladies want. . the most popular state. , what men work for. . sign of royalty. . a jolly dog. the answers are: . brow. . temple. . hare (hair). . date. . apple. . letters. . (the date of the penny). . ear. . tulips (two lips). . liberty. . copper. . one cent (sent). . shield. . arrow. . sea (c). . tea (t). . beau (bow). . united states (matrimony). . money. . crown. . a merry cur (america). usually a half hour is allowed for filling out the blank cards, and after that some time for correcting the lists and awarding prizes. a doll show this is a form of entertainment always liked by the younger children. it can be made amusing, as well as instructive, by having those representing the show to take the part of dolls of the different nations. when the invitations are sent out, it should be specified what part each little guest will take. some of the guests may be the audience if they prefer, or adults may be the on-lookers. each little guest receives a doll as a souvenir. another form of doll party is where the children bring dolls dressed by themselves. the doll whose gown is most neatly made receives a prize. there may also be dolls made of beets, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, etc., by using sticks, cloves, etc., with the vegetables named. the results are very funny. these are put on exhibition on the table and an umpire decides for which prizes are to be given. peanut game the little hostess or host selects two leaders. these choose sides. two large rugs are placed near together on the floor. a bowl of peanuts is placed in the center of each. the little players which can soonest dispose of their peanuts two inches apart on their rug, are the winners. the hostess gives the signal at the beginning and end of the contest. the sides may work simultaneously or singly, according as the game is played, individually or by sides as a whole. the peanuts are eaten at the end of the game, and a prize of a box of candy is given the winning side or child. this is passed about to the guests. peanut hunt some peanuts must be secretly hidden in out-of-the-way places--in bric-a-brac, etc. give a pretty bag or box to be used as a receptacle for the peanuts, and then the hunt begins. the one getting the most peanuts, receives a prize. he may eat all the peanuts he finds, after the contest is decided, but a lesson in unselfishness is here possible. the hostess may suggest sharing the peanuts with one who _tried hard_ to find many nuts, but did not succeed; or, if there be a lame child, or one deformed, he or she should receive some of the nuts of the winners, and of those the others find. a peanut party the invitations have peanuts painted on them, so have little menu cards, which are placed at each plate at the table. these designs are often funny, and even grotesque, as they represent brownies, etc. peanuts are strung as necklaces, bracelets, etc. some of the sandwiches are made of mashed peanuts--called peanut butter--and they are delicious. peanut candy is served, and at the end peanuts are jabbed for with hat pins. for this all gather at different little tables, or turns are taken at one table, the peanuts being piled up in the center. a box of candy is given the winner. this he or she, of course, passes among the guests. a children's fair this may be made not only enjoyable, but charitable as well. tables holding fancy work--preferably the work of the children--candies (home-made), groceries, aprons, pen-wipers, iron-holders, hand-painted cards, capes, etc., etc., may be sold. rebecca sits at the well--a well of lemonade. a grab-bag, an orange tree, with saleable parcels on it. a post-office, where letters are sold, and finally a refreshment table or tables, the little girls and boys serving as waiters, in costumes. soap bubbles making bubbles requires no great effort of the mind or body. clay pipes for the players are furnished by the hostess. bowls are filled with water which is quite soapy. the pipes show the colors of the side or sides, being tied with ribbons of different colors. the game contest may be decided in two ways. either the one who makes the largest bubble is winner, or the one making the most bubbles in a given time. the sides or individuals may play in turn. a pop-corn party a pop-corn party, of necessity, like a candy pull, must be held in the kitchen. this can be decorated for the occasion. each little guest brings an apron to be donned before the "popping" begins. first, shell the corn. second, take a dipper full of corn and "pop" it. this popping is done in a pan over a clear fire. third, divide into parts, when done. fourth, sprinkle some with cochineal, if pink corn is desired. fifth, string the pop-corn on threads. a needle is used to do this. necklaces, bracelets, and boys' chains may be so made. each child receives a handsome cornucopia or box as a receptacle for his popcorn. candy pull candy ready to pull may be bought at a candy store, or molasses may be boiled at home until it is ready to pull, when the hands are greased and the pulling begins. as suggested for a pop-corn party, the kitchen or dining-room is the best place in which to give a party of this kind. it may be decorated to look well, and the children doubtless would enjoy their play here more than in the parlor. a baby show this may be of dolls or real babies. you can borrow the babies for the occasion. a committee decides which is the handsomest baby, which the best-natured, etc. rattiers, toys, etc., are given the babies, or you can have your parents and other lady friends take the part of babies. put a bib on them when they go to supper. miss children the little players sit or stand round the room in a circle. the leader assigns to each some musical instrument, as harp, flute, violincello, trombone, etc., and also selects one for himself. some well-known tune is then given out, say "yankee doodle," and the players all begin to play accordingly, each doing his best to imitate, both in sound and action, the instrument which has been assigned to him, the effect being generally extremely harmonious. the leader commences with his own instrument, but without any warning suddenly ceases, and begins instead to perform on the instrument assigned to one of the players. such player is bound to notice the change, and forthwith to take the instrument just abandoned by the leader, incurring a forfeit if he fails to do so. the cook who doesn't like peas the fun of this game depends on a fair proportion of the players not being acquainted with it. the leader begins, addressing the first player, "i have a cook who doesn't like peas (p's); what will you give her for dinner?" the person addressed, if acquainted with the secret, avoids the letter p in his answer, and, for example, says, "i will give her some walnuts." the question is then asked of the second person, who, if unacquainted with the trick, is likely enough to offer some delicacy which contains the letter p; e.g., potatoes, asparagus, pork, apple-pie, pickled cabbage, peanuts, etc., etc. when this occurs, the offender is called upon to pay a forfeit, but the precise nature of his offense is not explained to him. he is simply told, in answer to his expostulations, that "the cook doesn't like p's." when a sufficient number of forfeits has been extracted, the secret is revealed, and those who have not already guessed it, are teased by being told (over and over again) that the cook did not like p's, and if they would persist in giving them to her, they must, of course, take the consequences. magic music--any number of players one player is sent from the room. the others decide upon something for him to do, but he is not told what it is, though he is helped by a noise of some kind on metal, or on a musical instrument. when he is near an object with which he is to perform some feat, the noise is loud. if he touches the wrong object, the music is soft. any one of the musical instruments commonly used by children may be employed in this game. zoology--any number of players the leader says: "of what animal am i thinking?" he tells that the animal has a certain number of legs, and gives other points of a like nature. from this description the guessing is done. when a player guesses the animal correctly, he scores a point. each player has a turn. the game is played until it loses its interest. chapter xviii out-door games for young children bean bag games--skipping the rope--various tag games--crossing the brook target bean bag the bags are thrown at targets. a score is made out. a prize is given the one getting the best score. throwing the bean bag over the head is another form of bean bag game. it must be caught by one standing back of the tosser. the one who catches it becomes the tosser. box bean bag this game consists of tosses of the bean bag into boxes. the player stands at a distance. the one being successful in his throws the most times is the winner. bean bag games an equal number of players out of doors. two parties are formed, divided by eight or ten feet of space. the umpire gives a signal, and a player in one line runs to the other side--half way, and tosses his bag to the one at the end of the line; he then takes his place next to this one, and the line moves down. this is continued, opposite sides taking turns. then the game is reversed, until the player who first played is in his original place. bean bag race a bean bag is placed on the ground and another at some distance from it. two players, at a given signal, run to these bags. the one who can catch the bag and get to the staff placed near the umpire is the winner. sides may be scored instead of the individual players. bean bag at the seashore at the seashore stones or blocks of wood may be substituted for the bags. a ring is drawn on the ground and the players take sides. the leader of each side toes a starting line across the ground at a distance from the circle. bean bags or stones are thrown into the center of this, each one having a turn. the side getting the biggest score is the winning one. skipping the rope skipping the rope is an admirable exercise for girls and boys. there should be a spring in doing this. when a jumper comes down on his heels, instead of jumping from his toes, he is apt to make the skipping injurious by jarring his back. the players jump in turn over a long rope turned by two of the players. each has a turn. a score is kept of the number of times a player can do this. sides may be formed, or the jumpers may see how many times they can jump over the rope in succession. home tag--any number of players the chaser tries to tag the runners before they can "get home," or to a given place. if he succeeds, the one tagged is "it." secret tag is played by not telling who is "it." he chases the other players and tries to tag one of them. if he succeeds, the one who was tagged becomes "it." japanese tag in this game the one tagged must place his hand on the spot of his body where the tagger tagged him; doing this, he must chase the other players until he tags one of them. crossing the brook this is a favorite game with little children. a place is marked off and named "the brook"--we will say it is three feet wide. the players run and try to jump the brook. when all have jumped over, they stand and jump backwards. the one who jumps into the brook instead of across it is out of the game. chapter xix singing games for children moon and stars--bologna man--orchestra--jack be nimble--oats, peas, beans-- farmer in the dell--london bridge, etc. orchestra this is a very noisy game. the conductor names his players for instruments, and tells them in pantomime how to play. he then orders them to tune up. they do so, producing a terrible discord. then the baton is waved by the conductor, and the musicians imitate the sounds of their instruments, while also imitating the movements assigned them by the conductor. the result is very funny. charley over the water a player becomes "charlie." he stands in the center; the others form a circle about him, and dance, repeating the rhyme: "charlie over the water, charlie over the sea, charlie caught a black-bird, he can't catch me." when the verse is ended, all the players try to stop before charlie can tag them. if they succeed in doing this, charlie remains in the ring and the verse is repeated, etc. the tagged one takes his place and he enters the ring. jack be nimble "jack, be nimble, jack, be quick, jack jumped over the candlestick." a candlestick is placed on the floor. the players in turn jump over it, using both feet in so doing. any other object may be substituted for the candlestick. one of the players sings the verse and when the last line is reached the jump is made. mary's little lamb this is a great favorite with the young folks. when everything else has become tiresome, some one starts the first line of the verse: mary had a little lamb, fleece as white as snow, etc. all sing, and on the second verse being reached the last syllable of the first line is dropped, then the next to the last, the third, the fourth, and so on, until the line is totally omitted. the aim of the singers is to keep exact time, counting a beat for each omitted syllable, and any one whose voice breaks in when all should be silent, pays a forfeit. the same can be done with "john brown's body," repeating the first verse and omitting syllable after syllable at the end of the first line until there is nothing left to sing but the chorus. the snail holding hands, the children form a line, singing the following words; they wind up in a spiral, following the first child, who is the largest one, and represents the snail's head. the others huddle together to form the shell into which the snail creeps. the motion is slow, for the saying "creeps like a snail," is proverbial. hand in hand you see us well, creep like a snail into his shell, ever nearer, ever nearer, ever closer, ever closer. very snug indeed you dwell, snail, within your tiny shell. hand in hand you see us well, creep like a snail out of his shell, ever farther, ever farther, ever wider, ever wider, who'd have thought this tiny shell, could have held the snail so well? with the last verse the creeping out of the shell is accomplished. oats, peas, beans a circle is formed. one player stands in the center. after singing the first four lines, all drop their hands. after this they imitate the motions suggested by the song. at the end of the verse they turn around several times, and then, joining hands, sing the chorus, standing still, for the last two lines. then the one in the center chooses "one in," and returns herself to the circle. the game goes on as before. oats, peas, beans and barley grows, oats, peas, beans and barley grows, nor you nor i nor nobody knows, how oats, peas, beans and barley grows, thus the farmer sows his seed, thus he stands and takes his ease, stamps his foot and clasps his hands, and turn around to view his lands. a-waiting for a partner, a-waiting for a partner, so open the ring and choose one in, make haste and choose your partner. now you're married you must obey. you must be true to all you say. you must be kind, you must be good, and keep your wife in kindling wood. mulberry bush the players stand in a circle clasping hands, and circle round, singing the first verse. in the second and alternate verses, the action indicated by the lines is given in pantomime. in all verses the players spin around rapidly, each in her own place, on the repetition of the refrain, "so early in the morning." here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, here we go round the mulberry bush, so early in the morning! this is the way we wash our clothes, we wash our clothes, we wash our clothes, this is the way we wash our clothes, so early monday morning. this is the way we iron our clothes, we iron our clothes, we iron our clothes, this is the way we iron our clothes, so early tuesday morning. this is the way we scrub the floor, we scrub the floor, we scrub the floor, this is the way we scrub the floor, so early wednesday morning. this is the way we mend our clothes, we mend our clothes, we mend our clothes, this is the way we mend our clothes, so early thursday morning. this is the way we sweep the house, we sweep the house, we sweep the house, this is the way we sweep the house, so early friday morning. thus we play when our work is done, our work is done, our work is done, thus we play when our work is done, so early saturday morning. itiskit, itasket all the players but one stand in a circle with clasped hands; the odd player, carrying a handkerchief, runs around on the outside of the circle, singing: itiskit, itasket, a green and yellow basket; i wrote a letter to my love and on the way i dropped it. some one of you has picked it up and put it in your pocket; it isn't you--it isn't you-- the last phrase is repeated until the player reaches one behind whom he wishes to drop the handkerchief, when he says, "it is you," and immediately starts on a quick run around the circle. the one behind whom the handkerchief was dropped picks it up and at once starts around the circle in the opposite direction, the object being to see which of the two shall first reach the vacant place. the one who is left out takes the handkerchief for the next round. should a circle player fail to discover that the handkerchief has been dropped behind him until the one who has dropped it has walked or run entirely around the circle, he must yield his place in the circle to the handkerchief man, changing places with him. farmer in the dell the players stand in a circle. one of their number is in the center. he is the farmer in the dell. at the singing of the second verse, where the farmer takes a wife, the center player beckons to another, who goes in and stands by her. the circle keeps moving while each verse is sung, and each time the player last called in beckons to another; that is, the wife beckons one into the circle as the child, the child beckons one for the nurse, etc., until six are standing in the circle. when the lines, "the rat takes the cheese," are sung, the players inside the circle and those forming it jump up and down and clap their hands in a grand confusion, and the game breaks up. the farmer in the dell, the farmer in the dell, heigh-o! the cherry-oh! the farmer in the dell. the farmer takes a wife, the farmer takes a wife, heigh-o! the cherry-oh! the farmer takes a wife. the wife takes a child, the wife takes a child, heigh-o! the cherry-oh! the wife takes a child. the child takes a nurse, etc. the nurse takes a cat, etc. the cat takes a rat, etc. the rat takes the cheese, etc. the succeeding verses vary only in the choice in each, and follow in this order. the king of france the king of france with forty thousand men marched up the hill and then marched down again. the players stand in two rows or groups facing each other. each group has a leader, who stands in the center and represents a king leading his army. the game or play is a simple one of imitation, in which the players perform in unison some action first indicated by one of the leaders. the leaders of the two groups take turns in singing the verse, at the same time marching forward during the first line of the verse, and back again to their places during the second line, illustrating the action that is then to be taken by all. the verse is then sung by both groups while advancing toward each other and retreating, performing the movements indicated by the leaders. the movements illustrated by the leaders may be anything suitable to an army of men, the words describing the movement being substituted for the line, "marched up the hill," thus: the king of france with forty thousand men waved his flag and then marched down again. the following variations are suggested, each of which indicates the movements to go with it: gave a salute, etc. beat his drum, etc. blew his horn, etc. drew his sword, etc. aimed his gun, etc. fired his gun, etc. shouldered arms, etc. pranced on his horse, etc. it is scarcely necessary to say that a real flag and drum add much to the martial spirit of the game, and if each soldier can have a stick or wand over his shoulder for a gun, the esprit de corps will be proportionately enhanced. london bridge london bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. london bridge is falling down, my fair lady! build it up with iron bars, iron bars, iron bars, build it up with iron bars, my fair lady! iron bars will bend and break, bend and break, bend and break, iron bars will bend and break, my fair lady! build it up with gold and silver, etc. gold and silver will be stolen away, etc. get a man to watch all night, etc. suppose the man should fall asleep? etc. put a pipe into his mouth, etc. suppose the pipe should fall and break, etc. get a dog to bark all night, etc. suppose the dog should meet a bone? etc. get a cock to crow all night, etc. here's a prisoner i have got, etc. what's the prisoner done to you? etc. stole my hat and lost my keys, etc. a hundred pounds will set him free, etc. a hundred pounds he has not got, etc. off to prison he must go, etc. two of the tallest players represent a bridge by facing each other, clasping hands, and holding them high for the others to pass under. the other players, in a long line, each holding the other by the hand or dress, pass under the arch while the verses are sung alternately by the players representing the bridge and those passing under, those forming the arch singing the first and alternate verses and the last "off to prison." as the words "here's a prisoner i have got," are sung, the players representing the bridge drop their arms around the one who happens to be passing under at the time. the succeeding verses are then sung to "off to prison he must go." during this last one the prisoner is led off to one side to a place supposed to be a prison, and is there asked in a whisper or low voice to choose between two valuable objects, represented by the two bridge players, who have previously agreed which each shall represent, such as a "diamond necklace" or a "gold piano." the prisoner belongs to the side which he thus chooses. when all have been caught the prisoners line up behind their respective leaders (who have up to this time been the holders of the bridge), clasp each other around the waist, and a tug of war takes place, the side winning which succeeds in pulling its opponent across a given line. where a large number of players are taking part, say over ten, the action may be made much more rapid and interesting by forming several spans or arches to the bridge instead of only one, and by having the players run instead of walk under. there is thus much more activity for each player, and the prisoners are all caught much sooner. singing games for small children moon and morning stars this is a spanish game. a player represents the moon; the rest are stars. the moon is placed in the shadow of a tree or house. the morning stars dance about a child, standing on a chair with extended arms, to represent the sun just risen. the stars dance around the sun, occasionally going quite near the moon; while doing this, they sing o moon and morning stars, o the moon and morning stars who dares to tread--oh, within the shadow? the moon tries to catch a star, and the one caught becomes the moon. wee bologna man two to forty players. the leader recites: i'm a wee bologna man; always do the best you can to follow the wee bologna man. while doing this he imitates an instrument of an orchestra. the others imitate him. this game may be varied, the bologna man imitating animals or birds, or making any sound he wishes to make, or he can hop and croak like a frog, or imitate the motions and noise of an angry cat, or the like. draw a bucket of water this game is played in groups of four. two players face each other, clasping hands at full arms' length. the other two face each other in the same way, with their arms crossing those of the first couple at right angles. bracing the feet, the couples sway backward and forward, singing the following rhyme: draw a bucket of water, for my lady's daughter. one in a rush, two in a rush, please, little girl, bob under the bush. when the last line is sung the players all raise their arms without unclasping the hands, and place them around their companions, who stoop to step inside. they will then be standing in a circle with arms around each other's waists. the game finishes by dancing in this position around the ring, repeating the verse once more. chapter xx games of arithmetic thought numbers--mystical nine--magic hundred--king and counsellor-- horse-shoe nails--dinner party puzzle--baskets and stones, etc. how to tell any number thought of ask any person to think of a number, say a certain number of dollars; tell him to borrow that sum of some one in the company, and add the number borrowed to the amount thought of. it will here be proper to name the person who lends him the money, and to beg the one who makes the calculation to do it with great care, as he may readily fall into an error, especially the first time. then say to the person: "i do not lend you, but give you $ ; add them to the former sum." continue in this manner: "give the half to the poor, and retain in your memory the other half." then add: "return to the gentleman, or lady, what you borrowed, and remember that the sum lent you was exactly equal to the number thought of." ask the person if he knows exactly what remains; he will answer "yes". you must then say: "and i know also the number that remains; it is equal to what i am going to conceal in my hand." put into one of your hands pieces of money, and desire the person to tell how many you have got. he will answer ; upon which open your hand and show him the pieces. you may then say: "i well knew that your result was ; but if you had thought of a very large number, for example, two or three millions, the result would have been much greater, but my hand would not have held a number of pieces equal to the remainder." the person then supposing that the result of the calculation must be different, according to the difference of the number thought of, will imagine that it is necessary to know the last number in order to guess the result; but this idea is false, for, in the case which we have here supposed, whatever be the number thought of, the remainder must always be . the reason of this is as follows: the sum, the half of which is given to the poor, is nothing else than twice the number thought of, plus ; and when the poor have received their part, there remains only the number thought of plus ; but the number thought of is cut off when the sum borrowed is returned, and consequently there remains only . the result may be easily known, since it will be the half of the number given in the third part of the operation; for example, whatever be the number thought of, the remainder will be or , according as or have been given. if this trick be performed several times successively, the number given in the third part of the operation must be always different; for if the result were several times the same, the deception might be discovered. when the five first parts of the calculation for obtaining a result are finished, it will be best not to name it at first, but to continue the operation, to render it more complex, by saying for example: "double the remainder, deduct two, add three, take the fourth part," etc.; and the different steps of the calculation may be kept in mind, in order to know how much the first result has been increased or diminished. this irregular process never fails to confound those who attempt to follow it. another way tell the person to take from the number thought of, and then double the remainder; desire him to take from this double, and to add to it the number thought of, in the last place, ask him the number arising from this addition, and, if you add to it, the third of the sum will be the number thought of. the application of this rule is so easy that it is needless to illustrate it by an example. a third way ask the person to add to the triple of the number thought of, and to multiply the sum by three; then bid him add to this product the number thought of, and the result will be a sum from which if be subtracted, the remainder will be ten times the number required; and if the cipher on the right be cut off from the remainder, the other figure will indicate the number sought. example--let the number thought of be , the triple of which is ; and if be added, it makes ; the triple of this last number is , and if be added it makes , from which if be subtracted, the remainder will be ; now, if the cipher on the right be cut off, the remaining figure, , will be the number required. a fourth way tell the person to multiply the number thought of by itself; then desire him to add to the number thought of, and to multiply it also by itself; in the last place, ask him to tell the difference of these two products, which will certainly be an odd number, and the least half of it will be the number required. let the number thought of, for example, be ; which, multiplied by itself, gives ; in the next place, increased by is ; which, multiplied by itself makes ; and the difference of these two squares is , the least half of which, being , is the number thought of. how to tell numbers thought of if one or more numbers thought of be greater than , we must distinguish two cases; that in which the number or the numbers thought of is odd, and that in which it is even. in the first case, ask the sum of the first and second; of the second and third; the third and fourth; and so on to the last; and then the sum of the first and the last. having written down all these sums in order, add together all those, the places of which are odd, as the first, the third, the fifth, etc.; make another sum of all those, the places of which are even, as the second, the fourth, the sixth, etc.; subtract this sum from the former, and the remainder will be the double of the first number. let us suppose, for example, that the five following numbers are thought of: , , , , , which, when added two and two as above, give , , , , ; the sum of the first, third, and fifth is , and that of the second and fourth is ; if be subtracted from , the remainder , will be the double of the first number, . now, if be taken from , the first of the sums, the remainder , will be the second number; and by proceeding in this manner, we may find all the rest. in the second case, that is to say, if the number or the numbers thought of be even, you must ask and write down as above, the sum of the first and second; that of the second and third; and so on, as before; but instead of the sum of the first and the last, you must take that of the second and last; then add together those which stand in the even places, and form them into a new sum apart; add also those in the odd places, the first excepted, and subtract this sum from the former, the remainder will be double of the second number; and if the second number, thus found, be subtracted from the sum of the first and second, you will have the first number; if it be taken from that of the second and third, it will give the third; and so of the rest. let the numbers thought of be, for example, , , , ; the sums formed as above are , , , ; the sum of the second and fourth is , from which if , the third, be subtracted, the remainder will be , the double of , the second number. the first therefore is , third , and the fourth . when each of the numbers thought of does not exceed , they may be easily found in the following manner: having made the person add to the double of the first number thought of, desire him to multiply the whole by , and to add to the product the second number. if there be a third, make him double this first sum, and add to it, after which, desire him to multiply the new sum by , and to add to it the third number. if there be a fourth, proceed in the same manner, desiring him to double the preceding sum; to add to it ; to multiply by ; to add the fourth number; and so on. then ask the number arising from the addition of the last number thought of, and if there were two numbers, subtract from it; if there were three, ; if there were four, ; and so on; for the remainder will be composed of figures, of which the first on the left will be the first number thought of, the next second, and so on. suppose the numbers thought of be , , ; by adding to , the double of the first, we shall have , which, being multiplied by , will give ; if , the second number thought of, be then added, we shall have , which doubled gives ; and, if we add , and multiply , the sum, by , the result will be . in the last place, if we add , the number thought of, the sum will be ; and if be deducted from it, we shall have, for remainder, , the figures of which, , , , indicate in order the three numbers though of. gold and silver game one of the party having in one hand a piece of gold and in the other a piece of silver, you may tell in which hand he has the gold and in which the silver, by the following method: some value, represented by an even number, such as , must be assigned to the gold, and a value represented by an odd number, such as , must be assigned to the silver; after which, desire the person to multiply the number in the right hand by any even number whatever, such as ; and that in the left hand by an odd number, as ; then bid him add together the two products, and if the whole sum be odd, the gold will be in the right hand and the silver in the left; if the sum be even, the contrary will be the case. to conceal the trick better, it will be sufficient to ask whether the sum of the two products can be halved without a remainder; for in that case the total will be even, and in the contrary case odd. it may be readily seen, that the pieces, instead of being in the two hands of the same person, may be supposed to be in the hands of two persons, one of whom has the even number, or piece of gold, and the other the odd number, or piece of silver. the same operations may then be performed in regard to these two persons, as are performed in regard to the two hands of the same person, calling the one privately the right and the other the left. the number bag the plan is to let a person select several numbers out of a bag, and to tell him the number which shall exactly divide the sum of those he has chosen; provide a small bag, divided into two parts, into one of which put several tickets, numbered, , , , , , , , , etc.; and in the other part put as many other tickets marked number only. draw a handful of tickets from the first part, and, after showing them to the company, put them into the bag again, and, having opened it a second time, desire any one to take out as many tickets as he thinks proper; when he has done that, you open privately the other part of the bag, and tell him to take out of it one ticket only. you may safely pronounce that the ticket shall contain the number by which the amount of the other numbers is divisible; for, as each of these numbers can be multiplied by , their sum total must, evidently, be divisible by that number. an ingenious mind may easily diversify this exercise, by marking the tickets in one part of the bag with any numbers that are divisible by only, the properties of both and being the same; and it should never be exhibited to the same company twice without being varied. the mystical number nine the discovery of remarkable properties of the number was accidentally made, more than forty years since, though, we believe, it is not generally known. the component figures of the product made by the multiplication of every digit into the number , when added together, make nine. the order of these component figures is reversed after the said number has been multiplied by . the component figures of the amount of the multipliers (viz. ), when added together, make nine. the amount of the several products or multiples of (viz. ), when divided by , gives far a quotient, ; that is, plus = nine. the amount of the first product (viz. ), when added to the other product, whose respective component figures make , is ; which is the square of nine. the said number , when added to the above-mentioned amount of the several products, or multiples, of (viz. ), makes ; which, if divided by , gives, for a quotient, ; that is plus = nine. it is also observable, that the number of changes that may be rung on nine bells, is , ; which figures added together, make ; that is, plus = nine. and the quotient of , , divided by , will be , ; that is, plus plus plus plus = nine. to add a figure to any given number, which shall render it divisible by nine: add the figures named; and the figure which must be added to the sum produced, in order to render it divisible by , is the one required. thus suppose the given number to be : add these together, and will be produced; now requires to render it divisible by ; and that number , being added to , causes the same divisibility; plus gives , and divided by , gives . this exercise may be diversified by your specifying, before the sum is named, the particular place where the figure shall be inserted, to make the number divisible by ; for it is exactly the same thing whether the figure be put at the head of the number, or between any two of its digits. the magic hundred. two persons agree to take, alternately, numbers less than a given number, for example, and to add them together till one of them has reached a certain sum, such as . by what means can one of them infallibly attain to that number before the other? the whole secret in this consists in immediately making choice of the numbers, , , , , and so on, or of a series which continually increases by , up to . let us suppose, that the first person, who knows the game, makes choice of ; it is evident that his adversary, as he must count less than , can, at most, reach by adding to it. the first will then take , which will make ; and whatever number the second may add, the first will certainly win, provided he continually add the number which forms the complement of that of his adversary, to ; that is to say, if the latter take , he must take ; if , he must take ; and so on. by following this method, he will infallibly attain to ; and it will then be impossible for the second to prevent him from getting first to ; for whatever number the second takes, he can attain only to ; after which the first may say--"and makes ." if the second take after , it would make , and his adversary would finish by saying--"and makes ." between two persons who are equally acquainted with the game, he who begins must necessarily win. to guess the missing figure to tell the figure a person has struck out of the sum of two given numbers: arbitrarily command those numbers only, that are divisible by ; such, for instance, as , , , , , , , , , and . then let a person choose any two of these numbers; and, after adding them together in his mind, strike out from the sum any one of the figures he pleases. after he has so done, desire him to tell you the sum of the remaining figures; and it follows, that the number which you are obliged to add to this amount, in order to make it or , is the one he struck out. thus:--suppose he chooses the numbers and , making altogether , and that he strike out the center figure; the two other figures will, added together, make , which, to make nine, requires , the number struck out. the king and the counsellor a king being desirous to confer a liberal reward on one of his courtiers, who had performed some very important service, desired him to ask whatever he thought proper, assuring him it should be granted. the courtier, who was well acquainted with the science of numbers, only requested that the monarch would give him a quantity of wheat equal to that which would arise from one grain doubled sixty-three times successively. the value of the reward was immense; for it will be seen, by calculation, that the sixty-fourth of the double progression divided by : : : : : : etc., is . but the sum of all the terms of a double progression, beginning with , may be obtained by doubling the last term, and subtracting from it . the number of the grains of wheat, therefore, in the present case, will be . now, if a pint contains grains of wheat, a gallon will contain ; and, as eight gallons make one bushel, if we divide the above result by eight times , we shall have for the number of the bushels of wheat equal to the above number of grains; a quantity greater than what the whole earth could produce in several years. the nails in the horse's shoe a man took a fancy to a horse, which a dealer wished to dispose of at as high a price as he could; the latter, to induce the man to become a purchaser, offered to let him have the horse for the value of the twenty-fourth nail in his shoes, reckoning one farthing for the first nail, two for the second, four for the third, and so on to the twenty-fourth. the man, thinking he should have a good bargain, accepted the offer; the price of the horse was, therefore, necessarily great. by calculating as before, the twenty-fourth term of the progression : : : : etc., will be found to be , equal to the number of farthings the purchaser gave for the horse; the price, therefore amounted to pounds s. d. the dinner party puzzle a club of seven agreed to dine together every day successively as long as they could sit down to table in different order. how many dinners would be necessary for that purpose? it may be easily found, by the rules already given, that the club must dine together times, before they would exhaust all the arrangements possible, which would require about thirteen years. basket and stones if a hundred stones be placed in a straight line, at the distance of a yard from each other, the first being at the same distance from a basket, how many yards must the person walk who engages to pick them up, one by one, and put them into the basket? it is evident that, to pick up the first stone, and put it into the basket, the person must walk two yards; for the second, he must walk four; for the third, six; and so on, increasing by two, to the hundredth. the number of yards which the person must walk, will be equal to the sum of the progression, , , , etc., the last term of which is , ( ). but the sum of the progression is equal to , the sum of the two extremes, multiplied by , or half the number of terms; that is to say, , yards, which makes more than / miles. chapter xxi one hundred conundrums witty questions-facetious puzzles--ready answers--entertaining play upon words one hundred conundrums he loved her. she hated him, but womanlike, she would have him, and she was the death of him. who was he? answer: a flea. why is life the greatest of riddles? because we must all give it up. if a church be on fire, why has the organ the smallest chance of escape? because the organ cannot play on it. why should a sailor be the best authority as to what goes on in the moon? because he has been to see (sea). what does a cat have that no other animal has? kittens. when is a man behind the times? when he's a weak (week) back. what is the difference between a baby and a pair of boots? one i was and the other i wear. use me well, and i'm everybody; scratch my back and i'm nobody. a looking glass. what word becomes shorter by adding a syllable to it? short. if a stupid fellow was going up for a competitive examination, why should he study the letter p? because p makes ass pass. why is buttermilk like something that never happened? because it hasn't a curd (occurred). why is the letter o the noisiest of all the vowels? because the rest are in audible. why is a member of parliament like a shrimp? because he has m. p. at the end of his name. why is a pig a paradox? because it is killed first and cured afterward. why is a bad half-dollar like something said in a whisper? because it is uttered, but not allowed (aloud). why do black sheep eat less than white ones? because there are fewer of them. why is a barn-door fowl sitting on a gate like a half-penny? because its head is on one side and its tail on the other. why is a man searching for the philosopher's stone like neptune? because he is a-seeking (sea-king) what never was. why is the nose placed in the middle of the face? because it's the scenter (cen-ter). what is most like a hen stealing? a cock robbing (cock robin). what is worse than "raining cats and dogs"? hailing omnibuses. when is butter like irish children? when it is made into little pats. why is a chronometer like thingumbob? because it's a watch-you-may-call-it. of what color is grass when covered with snow? invisible green. name in two letters the destiny of all earthly things? d. k. what is even better than presence of mind in a railway accident? absence of body. what word contains all the vowels in due order? facetiously. why is a caterpillar like a hot roll? because its the grub that makes the butterfly. what is that which occurs twice in a moment, once in a minute, and not once in a thousand years? the letter m. what is that which will give a cold, cure a cold, and pay the doctor's bill? a draught (draft). what is that which is neither flesh nor bone, yet has four fingers and a thumb? a glove. why has man more hair than woman? because he is naturally her suitor (hirsuter). what is that which no one wishes to have, yet no one cares to lose? a bald head. why is the letter g like the sun? because it is the center of light. why is the letter d like a wedding-ring? because we cannot be wed without it. why should ladies not learn french? because one tongue is enough for any woman. which tree is most suggestive of kissing? yew. what act of folly does a washerwoman commit? putting out tubs to catch soft water when it rains hard. why should a cabman be brave? because none but the brave deserve the fair (fare). what is the most difficult surgical operation? to take the jaw out of a woman. why is it difficult to flirt on board the p. and o. steamers? because all of the mails (males) are tied up in bags. what letter made queen bess mind her p's and q's? r made her (armada). why is it an insult to a cock-sparrow to mistake him for a pheasant? because it is making game of him. what is that from which the whole may be taken, and yet some will remain? the word wholesome. why is blind-man's buff like sympathy? because it is a fellow feeling for another. when may a man be said to have four hands? when he doubles his fists. why is it easy to break into an old man's house? because his gait (gate) is broken and his locks are few. why should you not go to new york by the : train? because it is ten-to-one if you catch it. why should the male sex avoid the letter a? because it makes the men mean. when does a man sneeze three times? when he cannot help it. what relation is the doormat to the scraper? a step farther. why does a piebald pony never pay toll? because his master pays it for him. why is the letter s like a sewing-machine? because it makes needles needless. what is the difference between a cow and a rickety chair? one gives milk and the other gives way (whey). what flower most resembles a bull's mouth? a cowslip. what does a stone become in the water? wet. if the alphabet were invited out to dine, what time would u, v, w, x, y, and z go--they would go after tea. when was beef-tea first introduced into england? when henry viii dissolved the pope's bull. what letter is the pleasantest to a deaf woman? a, because it makes her hear. when is love a deformity? when it is all on one side. why is a mouse like hay? because the cat'll (cattle) eat it. why is a madman equal to two men? because he is one beside himself. why are good resolutions like ladies fainting in church? because the sooner they are carried out the better. which is the merriest letter in the alphabet? u, because it is always in fun. what is the difference between a bankrupt and a feather bed? one is hard up and the other is soft down. what is that word of five letters from which, if you take two, only one remains? stone. why is the letter b like a fire? because it makes oil boil. what word is pronounced quicker by adding a syllable to it? quick. which animal travels with the most, and which with the least, luggage? the elephant the most because he is never without his trunk. the fox and cock the least because they have only one brush and comb between them. why are bakers the most self-denying people? because they sell what they need (knead) themselves. which of the constellations reminds you of an empty fireplace? the great bear (grate bear). what relation is that child to its own father who is not its own father's son? his daughter. when does a pig become landed property? when he is turned into a meadow. which is the heavier, the full or the new moon? the full moon is a great deal lighter. why is an alligator the most deceitful of animals? because he takes you in with an open countenance. why are fowls the most profitable of live stock? because for every grain they give a peck. what is that which comes with a coach, goes with a coach, is of no use whatever to the coach, and yet the coach can't go without it? noise. if your uncle's sister is not your aunt, what relation is she to you? your mother. why does a duck put his head under water? for divers reasons. why does it take it out again? for sundry reasons. what vegetable products are the most important in history? dates. why is the letter w like a maid of honor? because it is always in waiting. what letter is always invisible, yet never out of sight? the letter s. why is the letter f like a cow's tail? because it is the end of beef. on which side of a pitcher is the handle? the outside. what is higher and handsomer when the head is off? your pillow. why is a pig in a parlor like a house on fire? because the sooner it is put out the better. what is the keynote to good breeding? b natural. what is it that walks with its head downwards? a nail in a shoe. why is a lame dog like a schoolboy adding six and seven together? because he puts down three and carries one. why is the brooklyn bridge like merit? because it is very often passed over. what did adam first plant in the garden of eden? his foot. what is majesty, deprived of its externals? a jest. how would you make a thin man fat? throw him out of a second story window and let him come down plump. what is the difference between a young maid of sixteen and an old maid of eighty? one is happy and careless and the other is cappy and hairless. when was fruit known to use bad language? when the first apple cursed the first pair. if a man gets up on a donkey, where should he get down? from a swan's breast. what is lengthened by being cut at both ends? a ditch. "i am what i am; i am not what i follow. if i were what i follow, i should not be what i am." what is it? a footman. which is the strongest day of the week? sunday. all the others are weak days. the end. [transcriber's note: bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.] recreations for girls [illustration] indoor and outdoor recreations for girls by lina beard and adelia b. beard new york charles scribner's sons copyright, , , by charles scribner's sons special notice the publishers hereby give warning that the unauthorized printing of any portion of the text of this book, and the reproduction of any of the illustrations or diagrams, are expressly forbidden. explanatory note to new edition since the publication of this volume two years ago as "handicraft and recreation for girls," it has occurred to us that "recreations" alone much more accurately defines the contents, for the handicrafts represented are only those that in effect are recreations. therefore we have thought it best to drop the word handicraft and issue the new edition under the more appropriate title, "recreations for girls." lina beard adelia b. beard. september, . preface this book, like a girl's life, is divided into two parts: occupation and amusement, or handicraft and recreation. it is not equally divided, for handicraft is so much more like play than work, and is so entertaining in itself, we find difficulty in drawing a distinct line between that and recreation. the one insists upon blending with the other and the book, after all, is a book of entertainment. with the old handicrafts coming back into favor and new ones constantly being brought forward, a girl's life may be full of delightful employment. to work with joyous enthusiasm and self-reliant energy, as well as to play with light-hearted enjoyment, cannot fail to make her sensible, wholesome, and happy, and it is with this end in view that we have written and illustrated the book. our wish is to help our girl friends to make the most of their girlhood and to enjoy it to its fullest extent. we have had practical experience in the actual working out of all the various handicrafts and recreations, and therefore give only that which we know can be well and easily done by the average girl. thanks are due to the _delineator_, _harper's bazar_, _woman's home companion_, and _good housekeeping_, for their courtesy in promptly returning for this work the original drawings and material used in their respective magazines. the author. flushing, august , . contents part i handicraft chapter i. page spinning the spinning-wheel, ; the spindle, ; the distaff, ; thoroughly cleaned, ; the band, ; to adjust the band, ; the flax, ; practice, ; how to spin, ; when the thread breaks, . chapter ii. weaving on a home-made loom the pin loom, ; the heddles, ; the shuttle, ; to adjust the warp, ; the woof, ; how to weave a miniature navajo blanket, ; blankets for dolls' beds, . chapter iii. a ball of twine and what may be made of it making a little hammock, ; how to tie the twine, ; a school-bag, ; twine curtains, . chapter iv. an armful of shavings, and what to do with them selecting the shavings, ; a soft little basket, ; how to prepare the shavings, ; how to weave the shavings, ; bind the edges, ; the handle, ; a handkerchief case, . chapter v. primitive reed curtains the reeds, ; raw material, ; the twine-stick weave, ; the finished curtain, ; curtain-bee frolic, ; door-way screens, . chapter vi. things to make of common grasses a grasshopper house, ; a doll's hammock, ; a bouquet-holder, ; weaving a napkin-ring, . chapter vii. possibilities of a clothes line adapted to decoration, ; rope wood-basket, ; rope net fringe, ; the tassels, . chapter viii. how to weave a splint basket the material, ; the spokes, ; the weavers, ; weaving the basket, ; binding off, ; trimming, . chapter ix. modelling in tissue-paper modelling a chicken, ; a turkey, ; the sturdy little elephant, . chapter x. nature study with tissue-paper all flowers from squares and circles, ; the best models, ; material, ; the carnation, ; how to cut a circle, ; the morning-glory, ; the daffodil, . chapter xi. a new race of dolls dolls of substance and form, ; the paper, ; making the head, ; the arms, ; the body, ; the legs, ; the feet and shoes, ; doll's hair, ; the dress, ; the cap, . chapter xii. an indian encampment on a pastry-board the ground, ; the wigwam, ; decorating the wigwam, ; the fire, ; the doll indian, ; the war head-dress, ; a travois, ; pipe of peace, ; a perfect little tomahawk, ; the chieftain's shield, ; arrow-heads and arrows, ; a bow that will shoot, ; the doll squaw, ; squaw's chamois gown, ; primitive loom and navajo blanket, ; papoose, ; cradle for papoose, ; indian money, ; wampum necklace, . chapter xiii. a toy colonial kitchen with fac-simile colonial furnishings the floor, ; the fireplace, ; a hair-pin crane, ; little dutch oven, ; two andirons, ; the fire, ; iron pot, ; the peel, ; the toaster, ; pot-hooks, ; the spinning-wheel, ; the little spinner, ; the costume, ; flint-lock rifle, ; the bellows, ; colonial pewter dish, ; grandfather's clock, ; colonial churn, . chapter xiv. little paper houses of japan how the people live, ; the house, ; the floors, ; the fence, ; the gateway, ; birthday festivals, ; the koi, ; a kago, . chapter xv. some odd things in russia the coronation cathedral, ; door-way, ; cupolas, ; a russian peasant doll, ; a little samovar, . chapter xvi. pottery without a potter's wheel primitive pottery, ; the clay, ; moulded on baskets, ; the table, ; the roll, ; to coil the clay, . chapter xvii. baby alligators and other things of clay the head, ; the body, ; the tail, ; coat of armor, ; the legs and feet, ; a banana, ; a little bust of washington, . chapter xviii. funny little apple toys the porcupine, ; sally walker's head, ; sally's curls, ; the indian, ; a comical little jap, ; an apple tower, . chapter xix. marvel pictures mary, ; her dress, ; sun-bonnet, ; how to draw the lamb, ; how to make the wool grow, ; how to draw the goose, ; how to feather the goose, . part ii recreation chapter xx. egg games for the easter holidays lifting for pasch eggs how to prepare the egg-shells, ; hanging the eggs, ; the players, ; the lifting, ; the egg dance, ; placing the eggs, ; dividing the players, ; the dance, ; the reward, ; easter angling, ; materials for the game, ; fish-poles, ; eggs, ; rules of the game, ; table egg-rolling, . chapter xxi. may day amusements how the may king and queen are chosen, ; archery, ; the bows, ; arrows, ; floral target, ; keeping score, ; may baskets and spring flowers, ; how to erect the pole, ; dressing the may-pole, ; the balls, ; the game, . chapter xxii. hallowe'en revels gold nuggets, ; the mine, ; the miners, ; the apple witch, ; witch's hair, ; hat, ; broom, ; ghost writing, ; four-leaved clover, ; apple-seed fortune telling; ; fortune bags, . chapter xxiii. the magic cloth and what it will do magic in india, ; a jumping frog, ; the hungry birds, ; to make the children talk, ; moving faces, ; the high note, . chapter xxiv. finger plays for little folk the teeter, ; church, ; steeple, ; open door, ; the people, ; the preacher, ; man chopping wood, ; my mother's knives and forks, ; my father's table, ; my sister's looking-glass, ; the little black birds, ; the baby's cradle, ; chin chopper chin, ; build the tower, ; the five little pigs, ; little heads for little fingers, . chapter xxv. how to arrange fresh flowers selecting the flowers, ; a number of nasturtiums, ; do not crowd the flowers, ; green leaves with flowers, ; color schemes, ; the vases, ; colorless transparent vases, ; arrangement, ; flower lifter, ; symmetry, ; wild flowers, . chapter xxvi. open air playhouses a florida playhouse, ; palm decorations, ; other decorations, ; an umbrella playhouse, ; a real teepee, ; an african hut, ; the floral tent, . chapter xxvii. keeping store the counter, ; the scales, ; groceries, ; vegetables, ; candy, ; wrapping paper, ; money, ; paper pocket-books, ; keeping accounts, ; bars of soap, ; butter clay, . chapter xxviii. a frolic with the roses beauty of the rose, ; rose petal fleet, ; green leaf-boats, ; the lake, ; a little rose girl, ; a garden, ; a peachblow vase, ; candied rose petals, ; rose petal cap, ; conventional designs, ; a wreath of roses, ; a rose book, . chapter xxix. a straw ride picnic the season, ; games for the wagon, ; simon says, ; bird wish, ; lines to be recited rapidly, ; at the grounds, ; chasing the deer, ; the swing, ; teeter-tarter, ; the dinner, ; dishes, ; camp-fire, ; after luncheon, ; telling stories, ; game of menagerie, . chapter xxx. a paper chase the hares and hounds, ; the start, ; false scents, ; the finish, ; how to dress, . part i handicraft [illustration: the spinning-wheel shall buzz and whirr.] chapter i spinning there is so much poetry, romance, and history associated with the distaff and spindle, and later with the old spinning-wheel, that we have looked upon them with a feeling almost of awe, certainly with a reverence for the gentle hands that spun so industriously generations ago. but it has now occurred to us that we too may set the wheel a-humming, taking up with enthusiastic eagerness the work laid down by our great-grandmothers so many years ago. the song of even the athletic girl will soon be like martha's when she sings in the market-place: "i can spin, sir," and the wheel will no longer be set aside as a relic of an industry past and gone. all the old handicrafts are coming back again, and ere long we shall be as proud as the maids in revolutionary times of our hand-spun and hand-woven fabrics. to be able to spin and weave is to be accomplished in the newest as well as the oldest of household arts. [illustration: fig. .--the slender rod tied at the lower end.] [illustration: fig. .--the looped upper end of the rod.] is the old spinning-wheel in the attic, neglected and covered with dust, or in the parlor, decked in all its bravery of blue ribbons and snowy flax? bring it out, wherever it may be, and for the first time in many years it shall buzz and whirr, while a girl's slender fingers part the flax and a girl's light foot rests upon the treadle. look well to the wheel and see that none of its parts are missing. there must be the bench, of course, with its treadle and wheel, then the slender rod which is tied loosely at the lower end to the cross-piece of the treadle (fig. ), and caught at the looped upper end to the little, curved-metal crank that extends at right angles from one end of the wheel's axle (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--a little peg slipped through two holes.] the two slanting uprights which hold the wheel in place are slotted at the upper ends, and in these slots rests the axle. a little peg, slipped through two holes in one of the uprights, keeps the axle from slipping out of place (fig. ). the frame that holds the spindle belongs in the position shown in the illustration of the spinning-wheel. by turning the handle that extends out from the upper end of the bench this frame may be moved slightly forward or backward when it is necessary to loosen or tighten the band on the wheel. [illustration: fig. .--the leather rings.] [illustration: fig. .--one ring in each upright.] [illustration: fig. .--the spindle.] in the two uprights of the spindle-frame there must be leather rings like fig. , one ring in each upright. the narrow strip extending outward from the ring is pushed through the hole in the upright, and the edge of the ring fitted into the little grooves just above and below one of the holes (fig. ). these two leather rings hold the ends of the spindle, which can be easily taken out and put in by bending one of the rings backward or slightly turning one of the uprights. fig. shows the spindle with the spool, or bobbin, and the small, double-grooved wheel. the spindle proper is simply the metal rod and horseshoe-shaped piece of wood with its two rows of little hooks or teeth. besides the wheel and spindle there must be the distaff and the arm that holds it. the arm is an upright with a rod extending out at right angles from the upper end. the lower end of the upright is slipped into a hole at one corner of the highest part of the bench. [illustration: fig. .--the tip of your christmas tree for a distaff.] [illustration: fig. .--bring the four branches up and tie at the top.] the distaff, which the mountaineers of kentucky call the "rock," is a thing you can make for yourself if your wheel happens to have lost its own. many are cut from the top points of pine-trees which grow like fig. , and dogwood also is sometimes used. the tip of your christmas tree will be just the thing. strip off the bark, bring the four branches up, and tie at the top to the middle stem (fig. ). let the lower end of the stem extend about four inches below the branches and whittle it down to fit in the hole in the distaff-arm. these are all the parts of the spinning-wheel, but before you can "see the wheels go round" every piece of metal must be thoroughly cleaned and freed from rust. rub first with kerosene oil and then with the finest emery paper. be very careful in polishing the teeth that you do not bend or break them, as it will not be easy to have them replaced. in fact, it is difficult to replace any part of the wheel, and though it has lasted several generations, careless handling may put it past repair. [illustration: fig. .--proper size of cord for wheel band.] when the cleaning is finished, grease with lard the parts where there is any friction. the slots that hold the axle, the spindle-stem, and the metal arm, where the treadle-rod rests upon it, all need lubricating. the best band for the wheel is hand spun, but at present it is possible to obtain them only of old-fashioned spinners who make their own bands. you can, however, make a band of cotton cord, such as is used for cording dresses. fig. gives the exact size. the length of cord for a wheel measuring eighteen and a half inches in diameter is about ten feet five inches. this allows for a lap of one inch at the joint. sew together with silk, wrapping and sewing until the joint is almost invisible. [illustration: fig. .--make a double loop.] [illustration: fig. .--the band will cross at the bottom.] to adjust the band loop it together, making it double (fig. ), lift the wheel from the sockets, and slip the band over it. fit one part of the band into one of the grooves of the wheel, the other part into the other groove, allowing it to cross at the bottom (letter b, fig. ). take the spindle from its frame and fit the bands into the groove in the end of the bobbin (letter c, fig. ) and into the first groove in the small wheel (letter d, fig. ). the flax may be obtained from any linen-thread factory and can be bought by the pound or half-pound. it is graded by color, the darkest being the cheapest and the whitest the most expensive. for practice-work the cheapest is as good as the more expensive. when you have learned to spin a fine, even thread you may choose the color in reference to the article you intend to make. [illustration: the spinning-wheel.] open your hank of flax, take part of it, and spread thinly over the distaff, wrapping it around and around. put on several layers, each almost as thin as a spider-web, extending it out widely and smoothly each time. you may think the ribbon tied on the distaff of your parlor wheel is merely for ornament, but it is not. the bands hold the flax in place while it is being spun, and a crisp, dainty, pretty-colored ribbon is just as useful for the purpose as one that is old and faded, and it is far prettier to look upon. wrap the ribbon around the flax on the distaff, beginning at the bottom, cross it, and tie as shown in illustration of the spinning-wheel. though everything is ready, before attempting to spin, practice, simply working the treadle until you can manage that part of the work mechanically and give your whole attention to your hands. it seems a simple thing to work the treadle, but you will find that without previous practice you will forget to make your foot go in the absorbing interest of getting the flax ready to run on the spindle. curb your impatience a little while therefore, and resolutely turn the distaff, with its pretty load, away from you. place one foot on the treadle, give the large wheel a turn to the right, or away from the spindle, and try to keep a steady, even motion with your foot. the jerks caused by uneven pedalling will always break the thread, so you must learn to make the wheel turn smoothly and easily, without hurry and without stopping. some spinners place only the toe of the foot on the treadle, others rest on it the heel also; it matters little which method you adopt so long as the wheel turns evenly. when you are quite satisfied that you can keep the wheel going without giving it a thought you may begin to spin. from the lowest ends of the flax draw down several strands and twist them with your fingers into a thread long enough to reach easily the bobbin on the spindle. pass the end of the thread through the hole in the end of the spindle nearest to you (letter a, fig. ), carry it across and over the upper row of teeth and tie to the bobbin (fig. ). start your wheel going, and, forgetting the action of your foot, give your undivided attention to drawing out the flax. hold the strands lightly with your left hand and with your right keep constantly pulling them down and at the same time twisting them slightly. see illustration on first page. all this time you must keep the flax from matting and tangling and the twist from running up into the mass of flax on the distaff. only practice will make perfect in this work, though the knack may come suddenly and you will wonder at your first clumsy attempts. the little fluster and excitement one feels in beginning and the hurry to get the flax into shape for the spindle is a drawback that practice will also overcome. when the thread breaks, as it will again and again at first, thread your spindle as before, tie the new thread to the broken end and begin once more. a better way to mend the thread when you are really doing good work is to unwind a little from the bobbin, thread it backward through the spindle, bring the end up to meet the end from the distaff, and let the two lap three or four inches; then moisten your fingers and twist the threads together, making one thread again. moistening the fingers occasionally is a good thing while twisting, as it makes a smoother thread. in the old days the spinner kept a cocoa-nut-shell, filled with water, tied to the lower part of the spindle-frame, into which she daintily dipped the tips of her fingers when necessary. a finger-bowl or cup of water near by will answer the same purpose. [illustration: the little girl and the little loom.] chapter ii weaving on a home-made loom [illustration] it is easier than sewing or knitting or crocheting, and comes so natural to many of us that one would almost think we should know how to weave without being taught. why, even some of the birds do a kind of weaving in their pretty, irregular fashion, and it was probably from the birds and other small, wild creatures that the earliest human mothers took their lessons in weaving, and learned to make the mats for their babies to sleep on and baskets for carrying their food. no one knows how long ago these first baskets and mats were woven, but in the beginning weaving was done without looms. afterward rude frames were tied together and hung from the limbs of trees, then softer and more flexible material was used and finer fabrics were woven. to this day almost the same kind of looms are used by the indians in our far western country, many miles away from the roar and clatter of machinery, and on them are woven the wonderfully beautiful navajo blankets for which eastern people are willing to pay such large sums. if it is natural to weave, it should also be natural to make one's own loom, and the pin loom is simple in both the making and the working, with material usually close at hand. the necessary wood you will find at the nearest carpenter-shop, if not in your own home, and for the rest, a paper of strong, large-size pins, a yard of colored cord, and one ordinary carpet-tack are all that is needed. make the frame for the loom of a smooth piece of soft pine-board, fifteen inches long by nine inches wide (fig. ). make the heddles of two flat sticks, nine inches long, half an inch wide, and one-eighth of an inch thick (figs. and ). from another flat stick of the same thickness, nine inches long by one inch wide, make the shuttle (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the frame for the loom.] [illustration: fig. .--heddle.] [illustration: fig. .--heddle.] with a pencil and ruler draw two straight lines across the board, the first one inch and a half from the top edge, the other two inches and a half from the bottom edge. this will make the lines just eleven inches apart. on these lines, beginning one inch from the side edge of the board, make a row of dots exactly one-quarter of an inch apart, twenty-nine dots on each line, as in fig. . at each corner of the board, one inch above the upper line and one inch below the lower line, draw a short line, and on each short line, three-quarters of an inch from the side edge, make one dot. [illustration: fig. .--the shuttle.] with a small tack-hammer drive a pin in each of the twenty-nine dots on each long line, and in each single dot on the four short lines (fig. ). when driving in the pins let them all slant evenly outward, the ones on the top lines slanting toward the upper edge of the board, those on the lower lines slanting toward the bottom edge, as in fig. . now lay your board aside where nothing will be placed on top of it, and make your heddles. [illustration: fig. .--let the pins slant outward.] the heddles are for lifting the threads of the warp so that the shuttle may be passed through. one heddle is left perfectly plain, like fig. . the other is cut in notches on one edge like fig. . [illustration: fig. .--the marked-off notches in heddle.] along the entire length of one of the sticks rule a line dividing it exactly in the middle (fig. ). on this line, beginning three-quarters of an inch from the end of the stick, mark off spaces one-quarter of an inch apart, making thirty-one dots. at the upper edge of the stick mark off the same number of spaces exactly opposite those on the line. then draw straight lines connecting the upper and lower dots, extending the first and last lines entirely across the stick (fig. .) at a point on the upper edge, exactly in the middle between the first two lines, start a slanting line and bring it down to meet the second line where it touches the long line. between the second and third lines draw another slanting line to meet the first at the bottom, forming a v. leave the third line, and make another v at the fourth, and so go the length of the heddle, drawing a v at every other short line. at the top between the v's make smaller v's, as in fig. . with a sharp knife cut out these notches, bringing the large ones quite down to the middle line (fig. ). on the end lines just below the middle line bore a hole with a small gimlet or a hat-pin heated red-hot at letter a in fig. . indeed the notches, too, may be made with a hat-pin by laying the red-hot end across the edge of the stick at the top of the line, and pressing it down while rubbing it back and forth. if you are unused to handling a knife, burning the notches will be the easier way. you can shape and trim them off afterward with the knife. [illustration: the complete pin loom.] of the third flat stick make the shuttle. curve the corners at each end as in fig. . sharpen one end down to a thin edge and in the other end cut an eye two inches long and one-quarter of an inch wide (fig. ). cut your yard of colored cord in half, pass the end of one piece through one of the holes in the notched heddle, the end of the other piece through the hole in the opposite end of the heddle, and tie each end of the cords to one of the pins at the four corners of the board, drawing the cords taut. this will fasten the heddle in its place across the loom (fig. ). near the bottom of the board, directly below the last pin at the right on the long line, drive the carpet-tack to serve as a cleat for fastening the end of the warp. all that now remains to be done is to adjust the warp, and your loom will be ready for weaving. the threads which extend up and down, or from the top to the bottom of the loom, are called the warp. soft, rather coarse knitting-cotton makes a good warp for almost anything woven on a small loom. [illustration: fig. .--adjusting the warp.] tie the end of the warp securely to the first pin on the long line at the upper left-hand corner of the loom (fig. ). bring the string down and around the first two pins on the lower line, up again and around the second and third pins on the upper line, and then down and around the third and fourth pins on the lower line. up again, down again, crossing two pins each time, back and forth until the last pin on the lower line has been reached. wrap the warp around this pin several times, and then around the tack, tying it here so that it cannot slip. the warp must lie flat on the board where it passes around the pins, and in stringing up it must be drawn rather tight, though not with sufficient force to pull the pins out of place. [illustration: fig. .--putting in the second heddle.] turn the heddle on edge, the notches up, and slip the threads of the warp into the notches, one thread in each notch. this, you will see, divides the warp into upper and lower threads, and forms what is called the shed. while the threads are separated take the other heddle and darn it in and out above the first heddle, taking up the lower threads and bringing the heddle over the upper ones as in fig. . the woof is the thread which crosses the warp and usually covers it entirely. the material to use for woof will depend upon what you are going to make. germantown wool is used for the woof of the miniature navajo blanket shown in the illustration. the warp is knitting-cotton. [illustration: a miniature navajo blanket.] this is the way to weave a navajo blanket; simpler things you can easily make after this first lesson: of germantown wool you will need three colors, which are the colors most frequently used by the indians--red (scarlet), white, and black, about half a hank of each. take five yards of white wool, fold one end over a two-yard length, fold again, and push the double end through the eye of the shuttle (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the threaded shuttle.] tie the long end of the wool to the first pin at the lower left-hand corner of the loom, on the long line, making a tight knot and pushing it down close to the board (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--starting the woof.] with the notched heddle on edge push the shuttle through the shed--that is, between the upper and lower threads of the warp. draw it out on the other side, then turn the heddle down, notched edge toward you, and stand the plain heddle on edge. this will lift the lower threads of the warp above the others and make them the upper ones. push the shuttle back through the shed, lay the plain heddle flat, and stand up the notched heddle. weaving from the left, the notched heddle always stands, while the plain one lies flat. weaving from the right, the plain heddle stands, and the notched one is turned down. do not draw the woof tight across the warp. when you have passed the shuttle through, leave the thread like fig. , and then push it down firmly with your finger-tips until it lies close to the pins. a coarse comb with no fine teeth is very good to use for packing the woof, and takes the place of what is called the lay. while the woof is looped out like fig. , comb it down toward you with the comb, and it will fit in evenly between the threads of the warp. as the woof of the navajo blanket must be very tightly packed, use first the comb and then your fingers to push it down and make it compact. weave back and forth until all the wool in the shuttle is used. if the end of the woof extends beyond the last thread of the warp on either side, turn it back and weave it under and over several threads, and start a new piece with the end just lapping the old. the ends of the woof must never be allowed to extend beyond the warp at the sides. it is not necessary to tie the new piece of woof; the tight packing will hold it in place. in this case the new woof must be of the red wool. weave it across twice, or once over and back, making a very narrow red stripe, then cut it off and thread the shuttle with white. weave the white twice across, then change to black and weave a stripe one-quarter of an inch wide. above the black weave another narrow white stripe and another narrow red one. put a long thread of white wool in the shuttle, and weave a white stripe one inch wide. you will have to thread the shuttle twice for this, as too long a thread will make so large a bunch that it will be difficult to pass it through the shed. after the white stripe weave another black, white, and red stripe like the first, then another inch-wide white stripe. once more weave a black, a white, and a red stripe. begin with the narrow black, follow with the narrow white, and then weave a wider red stripe, taking the thread four times across. after the red the narrow white, and then the narrow black stripe. this last stripe is the lower border of the central pattern of the blanket, where your weaving will become more difficult, and at the same time more interesting. [illustration: figs. and .--weaving the centre stripe.] thread the shuttle with a long piece of red wool and weave it once across from the left, turn back and weave through five threads of the warp, draw the shuttle out and weave back again to the edge; again weave through the five threads, then back as shown at b in fig. . turn here and do not take up the last thread of the warp; pass the shuttle under three threads, turn on the next thread, and bring it back under four threads (c, fig. ), once more under the three threads, turning on the next as before, but passing back under two threads only. turn on the next thread (d), and pass under three. back under two threads (e), turn as before on the next thread under two, turn, back under two (f), turn, under one, turn on the next, under two (g), turn, under one, turn on the next, back under two, and unthread the shuttle, leaving the woof hanging. begin with a new piece of red wool, follow the same direction, and weave another red point on the next five threads, then a third one which will take in the last warp-thread on the left. you will notice in the diagram that the woof always turns twice on the same thread of warp. when the three red points are finished fill in the spaces between with black (fig. ), then continue to weave the black up into points as you did the red, making two whole and two half black diamonds. leave the woof quite loose when you make a turn in weaving, and the space left between the red and black will fill up in packing. take up the end of the red wool left at the top of the first red point, and weave in the space between the half and first black diamond, then break off. take the next red end and fill in between the two whole diamonds, then the next, and fill in between the whole and the last half diamond. this will give you a pattern of black diamonds on a red ground. weave the last of the red woof once across, then break off and weave a black, white, and red stripe like the one forming the lower border of the pattern. finish the blanket with the wide white stripes and narrow colored ones like those first woven. to take the work from the loom, cut the threads between the pins at the top of the loom, and with quick but gentle jerks pull it off the lower row of pins. tie together the first and third loose ends of the warp close to the edge of the blanket, then the second and fourth threads, and so on across, then cut the ends off rather close to the knots. the little navajo blanket woven in this way will closely resemble the real indian blanket in texture, pattern, and colors. blankets for dolls' beds may also be woven of fine white wool and finished with a pretty pink or blue border at each end. a wash-cloth, soft and pleasant to the touch, you can weave in half an hour with candle-wick for woof. this should not be packed tightly, but woven with rather a loose mesh. then there are cunning little rag rugs to be made for the dolls' house, with colored rags for the woof. but so many materials may be woven on your home-made loom, that it will be a pleasure for you to discover them for yourself. chapter iii a ball of twine and what may be made of it run to the kitchen and ask the cook to lend you her pastry-board for a day or two, to use as a support for holding string from which to make a toy hammock (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the hammock you can make.] drive twelve large tacks in a straight line across the top edge of the board; place the tacks one inch and a half apart (fig. ), and with a pencil draw lightly a line across the board from side to side, one inch and a half below the tacks. this will guide you in keeping the knots even. be sure that the line is perfectly straight; then draw another line one inch and a half below the first and continue making lines until the board is covered with them, at equal distances apart and running across from side to side. over each tack on the top of the board hang a piece of string about two yards long (fig. ). being doubled, each string makes two lengths of one yard each. [illustration: fig. .--tacks in top of board.] [illustration: fig. .--over each tack hang a piece of string.] bring the two ends of each strand down evenly together that all the strings may hang exactly the same in length. fig. is intended only to show how to hang the strings and gives but a section of the work. [illustration: fig. .--with strong pins fasten the first and fourth strings to the board.] with strong pins fasten the first and fourth strings down tight to the board (see b and e, fig. ); then tie the second and third strings together (c, d, fig. ), making the knot h (fig. ). to tie the knot, bring the two strings c and d (fig. ) together; hold the upper portions with the thumb and first finger of the left hand and the lower parts in the right hand, bring the lower parts up above the left hand--across and over the portion of string held in the left hand--and turn them down a trifle, running them under the strings in the left hand just above the thumb and first finger; pull the lower portion of the strings through the loop out over the first finger of the left hand as shown in fig. , o. tighten the knot with the right hand while holding it in place on the line with the left. the secret of tying the knot properly is to hold the two strings together and tie them exactly as one would tie a knot in a single string. [illustration: fig. .--when knot _h_ is secure stick pin in string _g_.] [illustration: fig. .--tying the knot.] when the first knot (h, fig. ) is tied, take the pin out of the string e and stick it in the string g, according to fig. . fasten down the knot h with another pin, and you will have the knot h and the string g firm and tight to the board while you tie the two loose strings f and e together, forming the knot k. pin this down to the board and remove the pin from the string g and place it in the string n, leaving m and g free to be knotted together. continue tying the strings in this way until you have made the first row of knots across the board, always using pins to hold the boundary-strings securely to the board on each side of the two you are tying. as each knot is formed, pin it to the board and allow the pins to remain in the first row until the second row of knots has been made. fig. shows the beginning of the third row of knots in the knot p, the pin being taken from the first knot, h, ready to be placed in the knot p. form row after row of meshes by knotting the strings until the netting comes too near the bottom of the board to work comfortably, then slip the top loops off from the tacks and hang a portion of the net over the top of the board, allowing a lower row of meshes to hang on the tacks. fasten the last row of the knots carefully, binding with strong strings the short loose ends of the strands securely to the string forming the mesh each side of the knot. remove the net from the board and make a fringe of string on each side of the hammock. in fig. , t shows how to place a strand for the fringe under one side of the mesh on the edge of the net: and s gives the manner of bringing the ends of the strand down over the string forming the mesh and under the loop made by the centre of the fringe-strand. pull the two ends of the strand down evenly, and bring the knot up close and tight to the hammock-mesh as shown in the finished fringe in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--making the fringe.] when you have made the fringe, thread a separate heavy cord through the loops on each side of the hammock (fig. ). tie the loops together (fig. ) and fasten together the two ends of each cord, making these two extra last loops long enough to allow of a free swing for the little hammock, or you can thread a cord of the same as that used in the hammock through every loop, tying the ends of each piece together through a brass ring, and instead of one long loop a number will support the hammock. [illustration: fig. .--heavy cord through loops on end of hammock.] [illustration: fig. .--tie loops together.] [illustration: making a sash-curtain for her room.] [illustration: fig. --your school-bag made of string.] fig. shows a strong, serviceable little school-bag which is easier to make than the hammock. take a piece of heavy cord twenty inches long, lap one end to the distance of an inch over the other and sew the two lapped ends firmly together; then bind them neatly around and around with string. bring the two edges or sides of the circle together, forming two ends (v v, fig. ). tie a strong string on each end (fig. ) and fasten each of the strings to the back of a chair; you will then have a circle of heavy cord securely suspended in mid-air. cut twenty-four lengths of twine, each twenty-five inches long; double each piece and fasten all the strands on the circle of heavy cord in the same way you made the fringe on the hammock (x x, fig. ), except that this time the strands must be quite a distance apart. let all the spaces between the strands be equal. having fastened the lengths of twine on the circle, net them together exactly as you netted the hammock, but you must depend upon your eye to keep the meshes even and of the same size, as there will be no board with lines to guide you (fig. ). tie the knots in circular rows, going around on both sides of the circle for each row. continue the meshes until within three and a half inches of the bottom, then tie the two sides together, closing the bottom of the bag and forming the fringe shown in fig. . having finished the bag, untie the strings attached to the two ends and make two handles of heavy cord or slender rope. fasten the handles on their respective sides of the bag. loop the ends of the handles under the cord forming the top of the bag, and bring each end up against its own side of the handle. sew each of the two ends of the two handles securely to the handle proper; then bind the sewed portions neatly together with fine cord as in fig. . [illustration: fig. --making the school-bag.] with some firm straws and more string we will make a sash-curtain for the window of your own room, as the little girl is doing in the illustration. loop about thirty strands on the same number of tacks, in the manner in which you hung those for the hammock (fig. ). make one row of knots, and before forming the next row slide a piece of straw one inch long over the two strings which are to be knotted together; the ends of the string must be moistened and brought together in a point in order that they may more easily be threaded through the straw. the letter r in fig. shows the straw with the ends of the string run through it, and u gives a straw higher up on the strings. after each straw is put into place, knot the strings immediately underneath to prevent the straw from sliding out of position. fig. shows how to manage the work. it is almost exactly like that of the hammock, the only difference being the threading on of the straws which hold the strings in place without a knot at the top (see w in fig. ). let the bottom of the net end in a fringe. take the loops off from the tacks when the curtain is finished, and slide them on a straight, slender stick, which you can fasten to the window by resting the ends of the stick through loops of tape tacked on the sides of the window-frame at the right distance up from the ledge of the window. [illustration: fig. .--sliding straws on strings for curtain.] if possible, let all the net-work be made of pliable, soft material; it is easier to handle, and the results are much prettier. make the curtains of any color you may fancy. chapter iv an armful of shavings and what to do with them do you love to go into a carpenter-shop, with its sweet-smelling woods and fascinating tangle of white and rose-tinted shavings, and to watch the carpenter guide his plane along the edge of a board, shaving off so evenly and smoothly the long curls which look almost as natural as the ringlets of a little girl? i am sure that many times you have tucked the ends of the shavings under your hat and scampered off with the curls streaming out behind or bobbing up and down delightfully at the sides. it is great fun, yet there is still more entertainment to be found in these pretty shavings. gather an armful, then, choosing the most perfect ones, not too thin, with firm, smooth edges, and you shall weave them into a pretty, soft little basket like the illustration. [illustration: the soft little basket made of shavings.] [illustration: fig. --directly across the centre draw a straight line.] [illustration: fig. --so that the upper edge of b will touch the dividing line of a.] pine-shavings are the best to use, as they are less brittle than those of harder woods. select a number and put them to soak in cold water to make them soft and pliable. then, lifting out those of an even width, place them before you on a lap-board or table, and after passing them between your fingers several times to take the curl out, cut eight pieces eleven inches long. directly across the centre of two of the strips draw a straight line, as in fig. . place one of these strips, a, flat on the table and lay the other, b, across it so that the upper edge of b will touch the dividing line of a and the mark on b will be on a line with right-hand edge of a, fig. . under a slide another strip, c, fig. . over b and under c slide the strip d, fig. . over d and under a pass the strip e, fig. . under e, over b and under c weave the strip f, fig. . under e, over b, and under c weave the strip g, fig. . over f, under d, over a, and under g weave the strip h, fig. . this forms a square for the bottom of the basket. [illustration: fig. .--under a slide the strip c.] [illustration: fig. .--over b and under c slip the strip d.] [illustration: fig. .--over d and under a pass e.] [illustration: fig. .--under e, over b and under c weave f.] bend up the ends and weave the sides with longer, narrower shavings which you can make by cutting lengthwise through the middle of several wide shavings. [illustration: fig. .--under e, over b and under c weave g.] [illustration: fig. .--this forms the bottom of the basket.] if you find any difficulty in keeping in place the part you have woven, pin it to the board or table with several pins, as in fig. . bring the sides up close to the edges of the bottom, then start your weaver at d, on the inside of the basket (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--bend up the ends now and weave the sides.] weave all the way around, turning the corners sharply, until the weaver meets the first end; lap it over this, cut it off and tuck the last end under h. start the next weaver at c, weave it around and tuck under e. weave five weavers around the sides of the basket, beginning each time in a new place that the joints may not all come together, then bend the upright shavings over the edge of the top weaver, tucking the ends of each under the third weaver, one inside, the next outside, as they may come inside or outside the basket (fig. ). [illustration: fig. --bend the upright shavings over the top edge.] bind the edge with two binders the width of the side weavers. hold one inside, one outside, and whip them on over and over, taking the stitches with a narrow strip of shaving as shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--bind the edge with two binders.] cut two strips the width of your side weavers for the handle, making one twelve inches and the other eleven inches long. one inch from each end cut notches, as in fig. . slide the end of the short strip under the second weaver on one side of the basket and pull it up until the points catch on the weaver, then tuck the end under the lower weaver (see illustrations). [illustration: fig. .--notch the ends like this.] loop the handle diagonally over the basket and fasten the other end on the second weaver on the side. secure the ends of the long strip on the third weaver, allowing it to cross the other side of the handle at the top, then bind the two pieces together at the middle by wrapping with a shaving of the same width over and over. split this wrapper at the last end and tuck the two ends in at the sides. fig. shows the under part of the handle with one end of the wrapper tucked in. [illustration: fig. .--tuck the two ends in at the sides.] you can make table-mats, charming little handkerchief-cases, and a number of other things of the dainty shavings, all on the same principle as that of the basket. [illustration: the handkerchief case.] to make the handkerchief-case, weave a square, measuring eight inches, of the narrow shavings, just as you did for the bottom of the basket. these shavings must be twelve inches long and you will probably need about thirty-two pieces. when the square is finished tuck in the ends, as around the edge of the basket, then bend in three of the corners to meet at the middle and catch with needle and thread. sew a quarter of a yard of bright ribbon where the corners join and another quarter of a yard on the loose corner. (see illustration.) put your handkerchiefs in the little pocket, bring up the loose point, and tie the ribbon in a pretty bow. chapter v primitive reed curtains these pretty rustic hangings can be made very easily and quickly. they are light in weight and the general tone of coloring, when the reeds have been carefully dried at home, is a pleasing soft gray green, with suggestions here and there of gray browns, reds, and yellows. the curtains may be either of these reeds or fresh green cat-tails, and even of the silvered gray stalks left standing from last season. the cost in actual outlay of money for several curtains need be only a few cents for cord, staple-tacks or nails, and screw-eyes, but, like the early savage whose method of work you are imitating, you must collect the raw material out in the open. so away to the spot where the finest cat-tails grow, gather a lot of them, cutting the stalks off clean and smooth at the base, that the cat-tails may not be bent or split, for as reeds in your curtain they must be as near perfect as possible. cut the velvety brown head off from each one, making all of the stalks the same in length; then, with several long leaves twisted together for string, tie the stalks into a bundle and march home with the treasure. [illustration: fig. .--beginning a primitive curtain.] [illustration: fig. .--centre of twine tied on long stick.] an old bamboo fishing-rod, a length of handle from a long-handled dusting or window brush, or any kind of a long, slender, smooth, round stick will do for the top curtain-pole from which to hang the reeds. lay the pole across a table in front of and parallel to you; then tie the centres of four pieces of cord of even lengths on it at equal distances from each other (fig. ). detail of the work is given in fig. . place a cat-tail reed up against the four ties, allowing one string from each tie to come over and the other under the cat-tail (fig. ). cross the two lengths of each cord over the last cat-tail, bringing the lower string up and the upper string down (fig. ); then lay another reed up against the crossed strings, carrying the strings in turn over this reed (fig. ). again bring the lower strings up and the upper down before placing in another cat-tail, and always alternate the large and small ends of the reeds as in fig. , in order to have them equally balanced and to avoid bringing all the small ends on one side and the large ones on the other side of the curtain. [illustration: fig. .--allow one string to come over and the other under the cat-tail.] [illustration: fig. .--cross the two lengths of twine.] [illustration: fig. .--lay another cat-tail up against the crossed strings.] [illustration: fig. .--alternate large and small ends of reeds.] [illustration: fig. --primitive curtain of reeds and twine stitch.] [illustration: fig. .--staple nail in top pole of curtain.] [illustration: fig. .--cord fastened on top pole for rolling up curtain.] continue crossing the cord and adding cat-tails until the curtain is of the desired length. tie the ends of the string on each line securely together and tuck them under the weave, hiding the ends on the wrong side of the curtain (fig. ). at equal short distances from the tips of the head-pole fasten in a screw-eye large enough to pass readily over the two hooks immediately above the window where the curtain is to hang (fig. , a, a). on the centre of the space along the upper side of the top pole, between the first and second cord and the third and fourth cord, drive in a staple-nail (fig. , b, b), shown more plainly in fig. . these staple-nails are for holding in place the long cord used in rolling up the curtain (fig. , b, b, and fig. , b, b). thread one end of a long piece of cord from the back of the curtain through one staple-nail and the other end through the other staple-nail. bring both ends of the cord down over the front of the curtain around the bottom and up over the back; then tie the ends on the pole (fig. , c, c). dotted lines show how the cord runs along the back of the curtain. have the cord sufficiently long to allow of the stretch between the two staple-nails b and b (figs. and ), to hang down over the back and extend in a loop below the bottom edge of the curtain (fig. , d). when you wish to raise the curtain, pull the bottom loop and up will go the curtain (fig. ). these primitive hangings are just the thing for outing cottages on the sea-shore or log-houses in the mountains. you can have fun weaving them while at your summer home and in place of the old-fashioned quilting-bee you might give a curtain-bee frolic. the girls and boys could readily make a number of hangings in one afternoon, and while weaving the reeds together they would weave into the work all sorts of bright speeches and gay laughter, so that ever after the curtains would be filled with delightful associations of the charming summer afternoon. reed curtains can be fashioned in any width. if very narrow hangings are in demand, cut your reeds to measure the length needed for the curtain-width and weave them together with the same twine cross-weave used in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--cat-tail curtain raised by loop from bottom.] [illustration: fig. .--small end of one cat-tail.] [illustration: fig. .--large end of another.] [illustration: fig. .--wide curtain, each reed of two cat-tails joined.] doorway-screens hung on a swinging, armlike rod extending, when open, at right angles with the doorway, and easily moved forward or backward, are attractive when of woven reeds, especially if dull, green-colored cord is used in the manufacture in place of ordinary twine. for very wide out-of-door veranda-shades, select the strongest cat-tails and dig out about two inches of pith from the large end of one cat-tail very cautiously to avoid breaking the sides; then push the small end of another cat-tail into the opening (figs. , , ); weave these long pieces together as you wove the single reeds in the first curtain, using extra lines of weave. if you cannot obtain cat-tails, take other reeds; or cut some straight, slender poles from shrubs or trees, and weave them into curtains with colored cord of reds or browns. such pole-hangings would be excellent for the open front of your mountain shack or lean-to, and they could do service in screening the sunlight, when too strong, from the central open way of your saddle-bag log-house. [illustration: sitting in the orchard] chapter vi things to make of common grasses a grasshopper-house "mammy, make me a grasshopper-house." "go 'long, chile, i done got 'nough to do 'thout makin' no hoppergrass-houses." "please, mammy, only one, and then i can make them for myself. i'll watch you just as close. won't you, mammy?" "pick me some grasses, then; i 'low i has to, but don't yo' come pesterin' me no more after this time. "seed-top grasses, honey, seed-top grasses; don't git me none of them blade kind. ketch hol' near the top and pull 'em up slow like, then they'll come out nice and smooth, an' leave they ole rough skins behind, just like a eel does when you skins him. that's it, you got 'nough now; bring 'em 'long here an' we'll make the hoppergrass-house. "hol' your own hand, honey, you'll learn best that-a-way. can't forgit the feelin' of it once you build it on yo' fingers. [illustration: fig. .--put the grass around your middle finger with the end inside.] [illustration: fig. .--lay the next grass across the first.] [illustration: fig. .--bend back the ends of the first grass.] [illustration: fig. .--put the next grass across your hand.] "take one piece o' grass an' put it round yo' middle finger with the ends inside like this (fig. ). now lay the next piece right across the first (fig. ), an' bend back the ends of the first grass over the tother an' tuck 'em 'tween yo' fingers just like that (fig. ). put the next grass across yo' hand (fig. ), an' take up the second grass-ends, bendin' 'em back to keep company with first grass-ends. that makes another bar (fig. ). now yo' do it an' let mammy see how yo' git along. that's right, lay the grass across an' put the under ends back ev'ry time. how many bars has yo' got now? six? that's 'nough fo' any hoppergrass, an' is as many as yo' little hand can hol' anyway. "now slip it offen yo' fingers, bring the ends together an' tie with a blade o' grass just above these here blossom ends (see illustration). there now, yo' done made a hoppergrass-house, an' don' yo' come askin' yo' ole mammy to stop her work no more." [illustration: fig. .--bend back the second grass ends like the first.] [illustration: fig. .--tie them together at the root ends.] [illustration: fig. .--lift two of the grasses and tie them together.] that is the way the little girls and boys in the south are taught to make the grasshopper-houses, by the old colored "mammies." they are funny little cages, and, of course, will not hold a grasshopper or any other insect, but we like to imagine they will. there are other things to make of grasses, any one of them requiring only a few moments' work, and it is a pretty, quiet occupation for restless little fingers. sitting in the orchard, nestling like little partridges amid the tall grasses, all your materials are close at hand. reach out and gather some of the long-bladed grass, and we will make a doll's hammock some of this grass measures twenty-five inches in length. it does not grow on stalks, but the blade appears to spring directly from the root, and it is smooth and pliable. you may find orchard-grass almost any where, generally in neglected corners and close to fences where the scythe does not reach. [illustration: fig. .--tie them all in pairs.] [illustration: the grasshopper-house.] take eight or ten of the blades of this grass and tie them together at the root-ends as in fig. , drawing the knot tight as in fig. . stick a pin through just below the knot and fasten to your knee; then lift two of the grasses at the right-hand side, and tie them together about one inch below the pin (fig. ). tie the next two grasses together in the same manner, the next, and the next, until you have tied them all in pairs (fig. ). make the second row by separating the pairs of the first and tying one grass of one pair to the neighboring grass of the next pair, making the knots one inch below the first row. this leaves the first and last grasses hanging loose (fig. ). on the third row the first and last grasses are tied in once more (fig. ). on the fourth they are left again, and so they alternate until the hammock is finished. keep the rows of knots at even distances apart, and make the hammock as long as the length of the grass will allow. leave about three inches of the grass below the last row of knots, and then tie the ends together as in the illustration. swing the little hammock between the low-hanging branches of a tree; put your dolly in it and let the summer breezes rock her to sleep while you sing: rock-a-by baby in the tree-top. [illustration: fig. .--make the knots of the second row one inch below the first row.] [illustration: the grass hammock.] a very pretty bouquet-holder can be made of seed-grasses and one long blade of grass. in this you may carry the most delicate wild flowers and ferns without wilting them by the warmth of your hand. [illustration: bouquet-holder made of seed-grass.] [illustration: fig. .--bunch together the seed-grass stalks.] bunch together seven fine, strong seed-grass stalks and tie just below the blossoms, with the root-end of your long-blade grass (fig. ). the stems of the seed-grasses are the spokes, the long grass the weaver. turn the blossom-ends down, the stem-ends up, and close to where it is tied, begin to weave the long grass in and out, under one spoke, over the next, under the third, over the fourth, going around and around spirally until the end of the weaver is reached, then tie it to one of the spokes. keep forcing the spokes farther and farther apart as you weave until the holder is shaped like a cone. as you see in the illustration, the weaver never passes over one of the spokes twice in succession. in one row it goes over a spoke, in the next row under it, in the third over again, and so on. in order that it may always come this way you must have an uneven number of spokes. four will not do, nor six, nor eight, but five, seven, or nine spokes will bring the weave out all right. a grass napkin-ring is another thing that can be made by weaving or braiding the grasses. [illustration: grass napkin-ring.] [illustration: fig. .--take one blade from each bunch and cross them.] [illustration: fig. .--bring c over a and d under b and over c.] select ten fine long blades of grass, divide them into two bunches of five each, put the root-ends together, and tie them as when making the hammock. pin these two bunches to your knee about two inches apart, and taking one blade from each bunch, cross them as in fig. , the right-hand grass a on top of the left-hand grass b. now bring the left-hand grass c over a, and the right-hand grass d under b and over c (fig. ). next weave the left-hand grass e under a and over d, then the right-hand grass f over b, under c, and over e. weave the remaining four grasses in the same way, taking first from one side, then from the other. when your work has reached the stage shown in fig. , take the grass a, turn it _under_ and weave it in and out as in fig. , then the grass b, turn it _over_ and weave until it crosses a (fig. ). d comes next, to be woven until it crosses b, then c, which will cross d. on the left hand always turn the grasses under before beginning to weave, on the right hand turn them over before beginning to weave. [illustration: fig. --weave the remaining grasses in the same way.] [illustration: fig. .--turn the grass a under, and weave it in and out.] when you have woven or braided a strip about five inches long, untie the two knots at the top, form the braid into a ring and tie the opposite ends together in two knots. the groups g and g in fig. form one knot, the groups h and h the other knot. trim the ends off neatly and the napkin-ring will look like the one in the illustration. do not use rough or saw-edged grasses for any of this work, for they sometimes cut the hands, and the seed-top grasses must not be old enough to shed their seeds into your eyes. when dry most grass is quite brittle and will break if you attempt to bend it. the fresh, green, soft and pliable grasses are the kind you need and these you may always find in season. [illustration: fig. .--tie the opposite ends together.] chapter vii the possibilities of a clothes-line you can form it into graceful patterns of curves and coils, loops and rings; you can weave it basket-fashion or net it together with brass curtain-rings, and you can fray it out into soft, pretty tassels. you can make it into a decorative wood-basket, a grille for an open doorway, fringe for curtains and portières, or decoration for the top of a wooden chest. one use will suggest another and you will probably find some way of adapting the rope that has never yet been thought of. hemp rope and cotton, large rope and small, down to the ordinary heavy twine, all lend themselves to this work. it requires a rather heavy clothes-line, one considerably lighter, called by some rope-cord, and a piece of strong twine for the wood-basket shown in the illustration. make the bottom of a board two feet long and sixteen inches wide, and on each end of the board nail securely one-half of a barrel-hoop (fig. ). from an old broom-stick cut four rounds one inch thick for the feet (fig. ), and fasten one round to each corner underneath the board with strong screws or wire nails (fig. , z z). this is all the wood you will need for the basket, the rest is to be made entirely of rope. [illustration: the wood-basket.] [illustration: fig. --on each end nail one-half of a barrel-hoop.] [illustration: fig. --for the feet.] take your small rope and nail one end of it to the edge of the bottom, close to one end of one of the barrel-hoops (fig. ), then wrap the hoop with the rope, one row close to another until it is completely covered. cut off the rope when it reaches the end of the hoop and nail it down as you did the first end of the rope in beginning. fasten a piece of the heavy rope entirely around the edge of the board, nailing it at intervals along each side, but leaving loose that at the end edges until later. make the end pieces of the basket by looping and twisting the heavy rope into the pattern shown in fig. , forming as many loops as are required to reach across the end of the bottom. wrap and tie one row of the loops to the rope on the end edge of the board and the side loops to the hoops, using the twine for this purpose. [illustration: fig. .--nail one end of the small rope to the edge of the bottom.] eight inches from the end of the bottom, underneath but near the side edge, nail one end of your heavy rope; bring it up slantingly and wrap and tie it to the hoop just above and touching the top edge of the loops, stretch the rope tightly across the hoop and tie at the other side, then carry the end down and fasten underneath the bottom eight inches from the end of the board (see illustration). wrap and tie the top loops of the end piece to the top rope as shown in illustration. finish the other end of the basket in the same manner, not forgetting to nail in place the rope left loose at the end edges. give the completed wood-basket several coats of dark varnish. the varnish not only produces a nice finish, smoothing down both wood and rope, but also stiffens and helps to hold the rope in place. [illustration: fig. .--make the end pieces like this.] a rope netting at once simple and effective is made like fig. . this netting may be made of heavy rope for a grille in an open doorway, or of lighter rope for fringe. in either case the method is the same. [illustration: fig. .--a rope netting.] in a board, at regular distances apart, along a straight line, drive a row of wire nails. it depends upon the size of the rope how far apart the nails should be placed. for a heavy rope there must be at least four inches between, and this distance should lessen as the rope decreases in size. cut your rope into pieces four feet in length if it is heavy, not so long if it is light rope. loop one piece of rope over each nail and let it hang down evenly, then bring the first and fourth strands together and slip on them a small brass curtain or embroidery ring (letter a, fig. ). push the ring up to within four inches of the line of nails if the nails are four inches apart. if the distance between the nails is three inches the ring must be three inches below the line. catch the ring to each strand of rope with needle and thread to hold it in place. bring the third and sixth strands together and slip on a ring (letter b, fig. ). then the fifth and seventh, and so across the board. [illustration: fig. .--slip on a small brass curtain ring.] begin the next row by slipping a ring on the first and second strands, placing it the same distance below the first row of rings that the first row of rings is below the line of nails (letter c, fig. ). bring the third and fourth strands together with a ring, the fifth and sixth, continuing the original pairing of the strands until the row is complete. the third row of rings brings together again the second and fourth strands, the third and sixth, as in the first row, and the fourth row of rings goes back to pairing the first and second, third and fourth strands. the tassels below the last row of rings wrap and tie the strands together, then untwist the ends of the rope up to where it is tied and fray it out until it becomes fluffy. make the head of the tassel by wrapping closely with twine a short distance below the ring, or you may slip on several of the brass rings as a finish. the board on which you make your netting need not be any longer than is convenient to handle, for when one part of the netting is finished it can be taken off the nails and new strands added to carry on the work. fig. is an ornamental design suitable for decorating a wooden chest or, if sewed on cloth, for a hanging. by studying the design you can easily reproduce it without the aid of description or other diagram. [illustration: fig. .--ornamental design.] chapter viii how to weave a splint basket your enthusiasm will begin when you find how easily the splint can be cut and shaped after it has soaked for a while in water. it is delightful to work with, almost as soft and pliable as ribbon, while having more substance. although there is apparently such diversity in the material shown in the illustration, it all comes from one roll of splint, which is uniform in width and thickness. [illustration: weaving the sides of basket with long weaver.] a basket measuring about six inches in diameter and three inches in height is a convenient size on which to learn. open your roll of splint, put two pieces to soak in a bowlful of cold water, and let them remain twenty minutes. have ready a clean lap-board, a pair of large scissors, and an old towel. the lap-board not only serves for a work-table, but also keeps the water out of your lap. wipe the dripping water from the splint, and cut off six pieces nineteen inches long; then cut these into sixteen strips one-half inch wide, for the spokes of the basket. do not attempt to tear the splint, for it will not tear evenly. from the other piece of splint cut four strips for weavers, making the first one-half of an inch wide, the next one-fourth of an inch wide, another one-eighth of an inch wide, and the last one-sixteenth of an inch wide. place all the weavers in the water and leave them until you are ready to begin weaving. take up the spokes, one at a time, and pass them between your fingers until they are perfectly straight and flat; then number them all by writing the number with a pencil on each end of every spoke; see diagram (fig. ). lay the spokes in front of you on the lap-board crossing the first four at the centre (fig. ). place the next four spokes in the spaces between the ones you have just arranged in the order shown in fig. , then the remaining eight in the spaces left between these. [illustration: fig. .--the first four spokes.] for instance, the ninth spoke should come between no. and no. , the tenth spoke between no. and no. , the eleventh spoke between no. and no. , and so on around the circle (fig. ). be sure the lower end of a spoke fits between the same numbers as the upper end. when all the spokes are placed hammer a strong pin directly through the centre where they are crossed, to hold them together while you begin. [illustration: bottom of basket completed.] [illustration: material for weaving basket.] [illustration: small basket with two rows of trimming on different colored weaver between.] [illustration: lining the basket.] the weaving with the spokes lying in the position shown in diagram (fig. ), take the eighth-inch weaver, and begin to weave it in and out of the spokes. start it under spoke no. about two and one-half inches from the centre, bring it over no. , under no. , over no. , under no. , over, under, over, under, until it has crossed spoke no. ; then skip no. , bring the weaver under no. , and weave another row. you will find it necessary to skip one spoke at the beginning of each row, in order to make a continuous under-and-over weave. weave five rows with the eighth-inch weaver, then slide the end under the last row, lapping it an inch or so and running it under several spokes, to hide the joint. slip the first end under a spoke also. during this part of the work your main endeavor must be to weave in a perfect circle. the illustration shows the bottom of the basket completed. [illustration: fig. .--eight spokes in place.] before bending the spokes for the sides of the basket, let them soak in the water a few minutes, then place the work on the lap-board, the same side up as when started, and carefully bend the spokes up at right-angles with the bottom (fig. ). start a half-inch weaver inside the basket, close to the bottom, and weave under and over until the row is complete; then, allowing for a lap of about three inches, cut the weaver off and slide the end under the first end of the weaver, making the invisible joint by tucking each end under a spoke. start the next row a little beyond the joint of the first row, that the joining may not all come in one place. weave five rows of the half-inch weaver, then two rows of the fourth-inch weaver and then bind off (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--all of the spokes in place.] [illustration: fig. .--bend the spokes up.] binding off cut the spokes off evenly, leaving about two inches extending above the top of the basket, then put the basket in the water, spokes down, and soak until pliable. bend each spoke down snugly over the top weaver, and slip the end through the next weaver, pushing it down until its end is hidden under one of the weavers. bend one spoke inside, the next outside the basket, according as they come inside or outside of the top weaver (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--binding off.] this binding off holds the top weaver in place and makes the basket very firm; but the spokes must be protected from wear where they are bent, and it is necessary to put a double band around the edge. for this band cut two pieces of the fourth-inch weaver which will go around the basket and lap about an inch. place one piece along the inside edge, the other along the outside edge of the basket, and with the sixteenth-inch weaver bind them to the top weaver, as shown in diagram . fasten the end by taking several cross-stitches with the narrow weaver, passing it under the inside band only, and tucking the end under the same band. [illustration: fig. .--putting on the band.] the trimming many splint baskets are trimmed with twisted loops of the same material. for this trimming take one of the half-inch weavers and cut a thread's width off its edge, making it just a trifle narrower than the other weaver. insert the end of this weaver under a spoke at the top of the basket (letter a, diagram ), give a twist to the left, and pass it beneath the next spoke, as shown in diagram , letter b. pull the loop down and flatten it a little with your thumb, then twist the weaver again, this time to the right, and slip the end under the next spoke, letter c. continue this around the basket, and make the joint of the trimming as you did the other joints, by lapping the ends and slipping them under the spokes, which makes the last loop of double thickness. [illustration: fig. .--making the trimming.] the small basket shown in the illustration has two rows of trimming, and between them is run a weaver of another color pulled out into loops at the sides. the illustration on the first page of this chapter shows a large basket with four rows of trimming and handles. the handles are made of the fourth-inch weaver, which is brought around twice, making a ring of double thickness. the ring is then wrapped with the eighth-inch weaver, and fastened to the basket with loops of the same. the weaving of this large basket differs from the smaller one, in that the weaver is not cut at the end of each row, but is continued around row after row. for a large basket the half-inch weaver can be used in this way, but in a small basket the slant of the weaver as it runs around is too apparent. if a long weaver is used in a small basket it must not be more than one-eighth of an inch in width. while baskets of the natural white splint are extremely dainty, color certainly gives variety and adds interest to the work, and the splints will take dye readily. you might also line your basket with silk of a color to harmonize with the splint. the white-ash splint one and one-half inches wide comes in rolls of twenty-five yards, and a roll will make several medium-sized baskets. the material may be obtained of almost any kindergarten supply firm. chapter ix modelling in tissue-paper a few cents will be sufficient to buy enough tissue-paper to model good-sized elephants, too large to stuff into the christmas stocking, for they measure six or seven inches in length and stand four or five inches high; and you can make chickens nearly life-size, and the queer little turkeys, too. you must select paper of the necessary color, and fold, roll, fold, squeeze, fold, tie, with here a little pull and there a little pat, a spreading out, a pinching in; that is all. there is no sewing, no pasting, no pinning, merely modelling and tying, using only tissue-paper and string. these animals are very substantial and unique. they are not at all thin or flat, but well rounded out and lifelike, with character and independence enough to stand alone--just the kind your little brother and sister will be delighted with, for they may play with the toys free from all danger of hurts or bruises. to make the chicken select a sheet of tissue-paper of a soft yellow color, cut it through the centre, fold into two pieces. take one of the halves and gather up the long edge where it has been cut (fig. ), then gather the opposite edge (fig. ). crease the paper as it is folded by holding one end with the right hand (fig. ), and drawing the paper several times through the partially closed left hand. this will cause it to retain the creases, as seen in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--the beginning of the paper chicken.] [illustration: fig. --second step in modelling chicken.] [illustration: fig. .--third step in modelling chicken.] [illustration: fig. .--fourth step in modelling chicken.] [illustration: fig. .--fifth step in modelling chicken.] [illustration: fig. .--head and body of chicken.] [illustration: fig. .--modelling the chicken's legs.] roll a separate piece of paper into a little wad and lay it on the creased strip (fig. ) about one-fourth of the distance from one end. bend the short end of the strip over the wad of paper, as in fig. ; then fold up the strip where the end of the short fold lies, bend this over the first fold (fig. ) and bring the loose end on the bottom of the three layers. fig. shows a wad of paper inserted at one end of a strip of creased paper folded over and over three times, making four layers, two on top and two on the bottom of the paper wad. wind a string around the paper tight up to the wad and tie it securely to form the head (fig. ). you now have the body and head of the chicken. make the legs and feet of a strip of paper about sixteen inches long and seven and one-half wide. gather up the two long sides with your fingers as you did the paper in fig. ; crease the paper, then wind each leg with string, leaving one inch free at each end to form the feet (fig. ). lift up the free end of the folded paper (fig. ) and place the centre of the legs (fig. ) midway under the last fold as in fig. . tie the end of the loose layer of the body securely on the body, and you will have the foundation ready for the beak, wings, and tail (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--modelling body and legs of chicken.] [illustration: fig. .--partially modelled ready for beak, wings and tail.] [illustration: fig. .--the beak of chicken.] [illustration: fig. .--modelling beak on chicken.] [illustration: fig. .--paper chicken nearly finished.] [illustration: fig. .--hungry little paper chicken.] cut a square of the same kind of tissue paper, measuring nine and one-half inches on all four sides; fold diagonally twice across the square as when making a paper pin-wheel. the centre of the square is exactly where the diagonal lines meet and cross; pinch the centre portion up into a beak and tie it with a string (fig. ); then fit the beak over the centre of the chicken's head, bringing the paper entirely over the head on all sides; tie the square around the chicken's neck close up to the head (fig. ). the two points a and b of the square must form the wings, while c is carried backward over the under portion of the body and d back over the upper part, the two ends c and d being brought together and tied tight up to the body to form the tail. in fig. you will see exactly how to pinch up the wing if you notice particularly the upper part of the wing b, next to the body. the wing a on fig. shows how the two wings must be tied close to, but not on, the body. when each wing is tied, make the tail of c and d by tying the extensions together as explained above; that done, bend down the legs, spread out the wings and tail, open out and flatten the feet, then stand the little chicken on a level surface (fig. ). remember always to crease the tissue-paper with the grain of the paper; if you attempt to cross the grain the paper will be very apt to tear. the turkey [illustration: fig. .--the astonished paper turkey.] [illustration: fig. .--modelling turkey's body.] [illustration: fig. .--legs and feet of turkey.] [illustration: fig. .--head modelled on turkey.] (fig. ) is also modelled from half a sheet of tissue-paper as near the general color of a turkey as can be found. make fig. and fig. of the paper; then fold fig. five and three-quarter inches from one end (fig. , f). three inches from this end tie the two layers together (fig. , g). fold the strips back and tie a string through the lower loop up over the loose top layer (fig. , h). wind the extreme end of the paper (fig. , o), with string to form the beak (fig. ), bend the beak down and tie it to the neck to form the top of the head (fig. , p). make the legs and feet as you did those for the chicken (fig. ) and slide them through the body so that one fold of the body will be above and two beneath the legs (fig. ). cut the wings from a separate piece of tissue-paper (fig. ). let the paper measure seven inches on the widest side, five on the opposite side, and four and one-half on each of the other sides. pinch the paper together through the centre and tie (fig. ). gather up one wing, so that it will not tear, and slip it through the body, immediately over the legs, with the widest side toward the front (fig. ), leaving the other wing out free on the other side of the turkey. bend down the legs, spread the tail out fan shape and bend it up; open out the wings and drop them downward and forward (fig. ). flatten out the feet and stand up the turkey (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--paper for turkey wings.] [illustration: fig. .--turkey wings.] [illustration: fig. .--elephant modelled of tissue-paper.] the elephant (fig. ) will require two sheets of brown tissue-paper for its body, head, and trunk, which are all made of a single strip of paper. unfold, spread out and fit the two sheets of tissue-paper together; then gather up one side, as in fig. , crease and gather up the other side (fig. ). bind one end with black thread to the distance of four and one-half inches to form the trunk; then fold the remainder of the strip into four layers, beginning with the free end of the paper; fold over and over three times. this gives the body and head. bind black thread around the folds next to the trunk to form the head. make four legs of two pieces of paper in the same way you formed those of the chicken (fig. ), only the elephant's legs must be very much thicker. slide the legs through the body between the two layers of paper, shove the front legs forward and the hind legs backward. for the tail use a small strip of the brown tissue-paper. wrap it around and around with black thread to within an inch of the bottom and cut this end up into fringe. fasten the tail on the elephant with black thread, pass the thread between the first and second layers of paper forming the back of the body of the animal and tie the tail on the outside threads which cross from side to side of the elephant; bend the top of the tail over the thread, as you would hang a garment on a clothes-line, and tie the bent-over end down on to the tail proper. shape the ears like fig. , pinch together the end s and tuck it under the thread which separates the head from the body. allow the long side, m, to form the front of the ears. you can add white ivory tusks if desired. roll up two white writing-paper lighters and push an end of each up in the head under the trunk, forming one tusk on each side. [illustration: fig. .--elephant's ear.] in making these little creatures do not forget that you must do some modelling, bending and shaping them with your fingers, squeezing up the paper where it stands out too far, and gently pulling it out in places where it flattens too much. the heads can be turned to suit the fancy, the bodies inclined this or that way, or they may stand stiff and erect. you might model a number of chickens, of different-colored paper, some yellow, some white, and others black, like real chickens; or make several turkeys and two or three elephants, some of the latter with tusks and others without. the toys when finished will cause exclamations of delight and approval. they are simple and easy to put together, something which will not cost much and yet be worth many times the amount expended for the necessary material to manufacture. the little animals are attractive, substantial toys, entirely different from the common ones which any girl or boy with sufficient pocket money may purchase. chapter x nature study with tissue-paper a natural flower, some tissue-paper, a pair of scissors, a spool of thread, and nimble fingers are all you need. there are no patterns, only circles and squares and strips of paper which you gather here, spread out there, wrap and tie some place else and, with deft fingers, model into almost exact reproductions of the natural flower before you. with its unfamiliar terms to be committed to memory and the many parts of the flower to be distinguished, botany is apt to prove dry and tiresome to the little child, but to study nature by copying the flowers in this marvellously adaptable material is only a beautiful game which every child, and indeed many grown people, will delight in. the form of the flower, its name and color, may, by this means, be indelibly stamped upon the memory, and a good foundation laid for further study. the best models ordinary garden flowers and those most easily procured make the best models. the carnation-pink, the morning-glory, and the rarer blossoms of the hibiscus, are well adapted to the work, also the daffodil and some of the wonderful orchids. even holly with its sharp-spiked leaves and scarlet berries and the white-berried, pale-green mistletoe may be closely copied. all these and many more are made on the same principle and in so simple a manner even quite a little child may succeed in producing very good copies from nature. material buy a sheet of light pink tissue-paper, another of darker pink, and one of the darkest red you can find. then a sheet of light yellow-green and one of dark green. have a table "cleared for action" and place your paper on the right-hand side, adding a pair of scissors and a spool of coarse thread, or, better still, of soft darning-cotton. [illustration: carnations modelled from tissue-paper.] with all this you are to copy the carnation-pink which someone has given you or you have growing in your own garden. make one of your light pink paper, one of the darker pink, and another of the rich, deep red to have a variety. lay your natural flower down on the left-hand side of the table, away from your material but quite within easy reach, for it must be consulted frequently. seat yourself comfortably and don't work hurriedly. [illustration: fig. .--fold the square diagonally through the centre.] the first thing necessary in this system of squares and circles is to know how to cut a circle quickly, easily and accurately, and always without a pattern. here is a method which never fails: [illustration: fig. .--the first triangle.] cut a square the size you wish to make your circle. that is, if you want a circle with a diameter of four inches cut a four-inch square (fig. ). fold the square diagonally through the centre according to the dotted line on fig. , and you have the triangle (fig. ). fold this at the dotted line and it will make another triangle (fig. ). again fold through the middle and you have the third triangle (fig. ). fold once more and fig. is the result. measure the distance from the edge, b, to the centre a in fig. and mark the same distance on the other side of the angle shown by the dot, c (fig. ). with your scissors cut across from c to b, curving the edge slightly, as shown by the dotted line from c to b (fig. ). fig. is the circle still in its folds. fig. is the circle opened, the dotted lines indicating where it has been folded. [illustration: fig. .--second triangle.] [illustration: fig. .--third triangle.] your eye will soon become sufficiently accurate to enable you to gauge the distance from a to b, and you can then cut from c to b without measuring. [illustration: fig. .--fold once more.] [illustration: fig. .--cut from c to b, curving the edge.] [illustration: fig. .--the circle still in its folds.] before beginning your flower take up the natural one and examine it carefully. you will notice that it has a great many petals crowded closely together and that their edges are pointed like a saw. you will also see that the green calyx is wrapped snugly around the lower part of the flower and that it, too, has a pointed edge. [illustration: fig. .--the circle opened.] now hold the pink off at arm's length. the separateness of the petals disappears and you see them only as a mass; the points on the edges are not noticeable except as they give the flower a crimped appearance, and the edge of the calyx looks almost straight. it is this last appearance or the impression of the flower that you are to produce rather than its many and separate little parts. so now to work. [illustration: fig. .--the petals.] [illustration: fig. .--crimp the edge with your fingers.] [illustration: fig. .--draw these through your hand to bring them closely together.] [illustration: fig. .--make a slender lighter.] cut two squares for each pink, one measuring five and one-quarter inches, the other four and three-quarter inches, and turn them into circles (fig. ) by the method just explained. take one of the circles at the centre, where the folding lines cross, with the tips of the fingers of your left hand and pinch it together; then, while still holding it, crimp the edge with the fingers of your right hand (fig. ). do this always with every kind of flower, whether it is made of circles or squares. without loosening your hold of the centre, draw the paper lightly through your right hand several times, then crimp the edge again, this time with the blade of your scissors. treat all the circles alike, then place a small circle inside a larger one and draw them through your hand to bring them together, pinching them closely until within a little over an inch of the edge (fig. ). make a slender lighter of ordinary writing-paper (fig. ), snip off the point of the flower (d, fig. ), open the other end a little and push the lighter through until its head is hidden. this forms the stem. wrap and tie with thread at the bottom of the flower (fig. ), and again where the petals spread. this last is to be but temporary, as you will remove the thread when the flower is sufficiently pressed together to hold its shape. [illustration: fig. .--the calyx.] [illustration: fig. .--wrap and tie at the bottom and where the petals spread.] [illustration: fig. .--wrap the paper spirally around the stem.] from your light-green paper cut a circle measuring three and one-quarter inches through its diameter and cut it in two to make the half circle for the calyx (fig. ). remove the thread that holds the flower just below its petals and wrap the calyx closely around the lower part, tying it at the bottom; then cut a narrow strip of dark-green paper and wrap it spirally around the stem, beginning at the top (fig. ). let the wrapper extend a little below the lighter and twist the end to hold it in place. spread the petals of your flower as much like the natural blossom as possible. leaves [illustration: fig. .--the leaves.] for the leaves cut a strip of dark-green paper six inches long and three-quarters of an inch wide (fig. ). find the centre by folding the paper end to end and making the crease shown by dotted line in fig. . gather it along this line, not with needle and thread--we use no needle in this work--but with your fingers, and pinch it together; then twist each end into a point (fig. ). with the sharp point of your scissors punch a hole directly through the centre (e, fig. ), and push the point of the stem through the hole, bringing the leaves as far up on the stem as you find them on the natural flower; then wrap and tie them in place. [illustration: fig. .--twist each end into a point.] the bud is made of a circle of dark-green paper the diameter of which is three and one-quarter inches (fig. ). gather this circle between your fingers as you did the others and crimp the edge with the scissors. it will then form a little bag or cup like fig. . slip the bag over the head of a lighter and tie at the bottom as in fig. . if the bud does not take the proper shape at first, model it with your fingers until it is correct. start the wrapping of the stem just above where the bud is tied and finish as you did the stem of the pink. use small leaves on the bud stem, having the strip of paper just as wide, but considerably shorter than for the leaves on the stem of the open flower. [illustration: fig. .--the bud. fig. .] it is wonderful how very natural these blossoms appear. at a short distance no one would think they are not the real, old and familiar pinks. only the fragrance is missing, and that may also be supplied and a spicy odor given by enclosing a whole clove in the heart of each flower. the morning-glory from your pale-pink paper you can make the delicately beautiful morning-glory. have the natural flower with its stem and leaves to copy from, even if the blossom is not the color you want. as with the pink, it is the general form and appearance we strive for in the morning-glory, not the detail. [illustration: fig. .--slip the bag over the head of a lighter.] make your pink circles with a diameter of about seven inches. it is always better to have your flowers a trifle larger than the natural ones, rather than smaller. but one circle is required for each morning-glory. crimp this in your fingers and draw through your hand as you did the circles for the pinks; then, pinching it together to within one and one-half inches of the edge, hold it in your left hand and flatten out the top as in fig. . see that the fulness is evenly distributed, and pull and straighten out the edges until you are satisfied with its appearance. [illustration: morning-glory modelled from tissue-paper.] [illustration: fig. .--flatten out the top of the flower.] a piece of bonnet-wire makes the best stem if you wish to give the true viney effect of the growth. if it is only the blossom you are making, a paper lighter will answer. when you use the wire bend one end over to form a small loop; this is to keep the stem from slipping through the flower. pass the straight end of the wire through the centre of the flower and draw it down until the loop is hidden. [illustration: fig. .--green square for calyx.] [illustration: fig. .--draw the edges down.] [illustration: fig. .--form a leaf-shaped point.] make the calyx of a square of light-green paper measuring about four and one-half inches. fold the square four times through the centre to form the creases shown by the dotted lines in fig. . hold the square at the centre and draw the edges down as in fig. ; then bring the two edges together in gathers, just below one of the corners, to form a leaf-shaped point as in fig. . gather below each corner, tie as in fig. , and twist each corner into a sharp point like f, fig. . draw the calyx through your hand, bringing the points together (fig. ). push the calyx up on the stem and tie just at the base of the flower, then tie again about three-quarters of an inch below and wrap the remainder of the calyx close to the stem. wind the stem with light-green tissue-paper and bend it as the natural one is bent and curved. [illustration: fig. .--twist each corner into a point.] make several buds of the pink paper, following the directions given for the green bud of the pink; then twist each bud at the point and add a calyx. the wilted flower shown in the illustration is made by taking one of the morning-glories you have just finished and actually wilting it by drawing the flower together and creasing and pressing it to resemble the partially closed and drooping natural blossom. only a piece of dark-green paper six inches square is required to model two almost perfectly shaped morning-glory leaves. [illustration: fig. .--bring the points together.] [illustration: fig. .--gather along one of the creases.] [illustration: fig. .--the morning-glory leaves.] fold the square twice diagonally across from corner to corner to find its centre; then begin at one corner and gather along one of the creases until you reach the centre (fig. ). start again at the opposite corner, gather along the crease to the centre, then wrap and tie (fig. ). pinch each leaf from underneath along the crease in the middle, to give the depression at the midrib. straighten the leaf out a little at its widest part and you will find you have made a pair of leaves which are surprisingly natural. wrap and tie these to the stem and make as many more as you think are needed. the daffodil is of such a different nature it hardly seems possible that it can be made on the same principle as the other flowers, yet the work is practically the same. [illustration: daffodils modelled from tissue-paper.] [illustration: fig. .--for the two extra petals.] [illustration: fig. .--pinch and tie in place.] [illustration: fig. .--cut off the ragged end.] [illustration: fig. .--fit each loose petal between two of the others.] [illustration: fig. .--bring together the fan of paper below the petal.] match the tint of your natural daffodil in yellow tissue-paper as nearly as possible, and then cut two squares for each flower measuring about five and one-half inches. fold the squares crosswise and diagonally through the centre as you did for the calyx of the morning-glory (fig. ), and cut one square in half along one of its diagonal folds (fig. ). gather the square two and a quarter inches below each corner and tie as in fig. , but do not twist the points. this gives you four petals, but as the daffodil has six, you must make two more from the triangular halves of the square you have just cut. gather each triangle across from side to side, according to the dotted line in fig. , and pinch and tie in place as in fig. , making sure the petal is of exactly the same size as those on the square. bring together the fan of paper left below the petal and wrap and tie as in fig. , then cut off the ragged end (fig. ). draw the petals of the square together as you did the calyx, and insert the stem made of a paper lighter. put in place the two extra petals, pushing the wrapped ends down into the heart of the flower; fit each loose petal between two of the others and tie (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--pinch the cup together.] [illustration: fig. .--slip the cup on your finger like a thimble.] [illustration: fig. .--insert the stem of the cup into the centre of the flower.] turn back to the bud of the pink (fig. ), and from a circle of the yellow paper, with a diameter of four inches, make the cup (fig. ), using the scissors to give a fine crimp to the edges. pinch the cup together at the bottom almost half-way up and tie (fig. ); slip it on your finger like a thimble and press it into shape like fig. . insert the point or stem of the cup into the centre of the flower and tie in place just below the petals (fig. ). cut a two and three-quarter-inch square from light-brown paper and divide it diagonally in half for the calyx. examine your natural daffodil and notice how loosely the calyx seems to be wrapped around the flower. imitate this by leaving the point loose at the top, while you wrap the bottom of the calyx closely around the stem. allow the wrapping for the stem to cover the lower part of the brown calyx. make several long, narrow leaves from strips of dark-green paper, two inches wide and of varying lengths. twist one end of each leaf into a point and, gathering the other end, draw it through your hands until it stands up stiffly. wrap each leaf partly around the stem and tie in place, following as closely as possible the natural growth of the leaf on the stem. bend the stem just below each flower, being careful not to break the paper lighter which forms it. if you use thread the color of the flowers for tying and green for the stems the effect will be almost perfect. chapter xi a new race of dolls like the little animals, these dolls are modelled of tissue-paper and they are equally substantial and durable. the dolls, as well as their dresses, shoes, and bonnets, are made without taking a stitch or using glue or paste. nothing could be prettier or more suitable to hang on the christmas-tree than these little ladies decked out in their fluffy tissue-paper skirts, and nothing will give greater delight to the children. [illustration: here she comes. little miss muffett.] to make little miss muffett you will need eight sheets of white tissue-paper, two sheets of flesh pink, not too deep in color, a quarter of a sheet of light-brown or yellow, and a small piece of black. her underclothes will require one sheet of white and her dress and bonnet one sheet of any color you consider most becoming. [illustration: fig. .--creased tissue-paper for making doll.] [illustration: fig. .--six sheets of tissue-paper folded together for making doll.] [illustration: fig. .--head of doll.] [illustration: fig. .--head tied on body.] take one sheet of the white paper at a time and draw it lengthwise through your hands, creasing or crimping it as in fig. . do this to all the eight sheets. then, pulling six of them partly open, place them evenly one on top of another and fold through the middle (fig. ). take another sheet of the crimped paper and roll it into a ball like fig. . open the folded paper, place the ball in the middle, bring the paper down over the ball and wrap and tie just below with coarse linen thread or white darning-cotton (fig. ). this is the head, which you must model into shape with your fingers, squeezing it out to make it fuller and rounder at the back and pinching it to give a chin to the face. fold another crimped sheet like fig. for the arms. you will notice the ends do not quite reach the folds. the space left should measure a little over one inch. crimp half a sheet of the pink paper and with it cover the arms; allow the pink to extend equally at each end beyond the white and fold over the ends, tying them as in fig. . then tie the loose ends down as in fig. . open the paper just below the head, slip the arms in place and tie below (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--beginning the arms.] [illustration: fig. .--pink paper over arms.] [illustration: fig. .--outside of arms tied over inside.] spread out your smooth sheet of pink paper, place the doll's head directly in the centre and draw the paper down over head and body; keep it as smooth as possible over the face and wrap and tie at the neck (fig. ). push the pink paper up on the shoulders and cut a slit about six inches long lengthwise through the middle of the entire mass of paper, as shown in fig. . wrap and tie each of the legs (fig. ) and tie once more under the arms (fig. ). fold the bottom edges under and model the feet in shape (fig. ). the wrappings at the thighs and knees take slanting lines, which give a more natural shape to the legs than if the thread were simply wrapped round and round as at the ankles. [illustration: fig. .--arms in place.] paint the face of little miss muffett with water-colors, placing the features low on the head to give a babyish look, and make the eyes large and mouth small. color the cheeks and chin a deeper pink, and put little touches of red just above the eyes near the inner corners and little streaks of blue just below the eyes. [illustration: fig. .--the pink skin of tissue-paper over doll.] [illustration: fig. .--modelling legs of doll.] miss muffett's curls are furnished by the wig, which you are to make of brown or yellow paper, or black if you want a little brunette. cut a circle seven and one-half inches in diameter, and on the edge cut a fringe one inch in depth (fig. ). this is the hair, which you must curl by drawing it lightly over the blade of a penknife or scissors (fig. ). fit the wig on miss muffett's head, holding it in place with pins until you can tie it on just back of the curls (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the wig.] now for the little lady's clothes. to make the shoes, which will be her first article of dress, cut out of the black tissue-paper two circles measuring four and one-half inches in diameter (fig. ); place one foot in the middle of a circle, draw the paper up around the ankle and wrap a number of times before tying. put the other shoe on the other foot in the same manner, and your doll will look like fig. . [illustration: the shoe.] [illustration: fig. .--pattern of shoe.] miss muffett's lingerie consists of a union garment (fig. ) and a white skirt (fig. ). from one end of your remaining sheet of white paper cut a strip about seven inches wide, and at the middle cut a slit half-way up (fig. ). draw this through your hands to crimp it, the creases to run lengthwise, that is, from top to bottom. fit the little garment to the body, tying it just below the arms and again above the knees, where it will form ruffles. cut the white skirt in a circle seventeen inches in diameter with a circular opening in the centre (fig. ). crimp the skirt and put it on over the feet, not the head, of the doll, wrapping and tying it in place around the waist. not only may tissue-paper be purchased in all colors, with their various shades and tints, but in pretty little checks, plaids, and figures as well, so miss muffett may have a dress equal in appearance to the cotton or silk gown of her china sisters. [illustration: fig. .--ready to be dressed.] cut the skirt of the dress after the white skirt pattern (fig. ), and the waist like the smaller circle (fig. ), which has one slit, from outer to inner edge, added to the opening at the centre. [illustration: fig. .--union garment.] [illustration: fig. .--white skirt.] [illustration: fig. .--waist pattern.] [illustration: fig. .--pattern for sun-bonnet.] [illustration: fig. .--bonnet folded.] this waist circle should measure ten inches in diameter. do not crimp the dress skirt, but put it on in all its crisp freshness, and tie in place at the waist-line. adjust the waist on miss muffett, bringing the slit opening at the back. it looks very much like a cape now, doesn't it? but draw the fulness in at the bottom and around the arms at the shoulders, and you have a little waist with full short sleeves. tie the waist rather high, and bring it down to bag slightly over the skirt as shown in the illustration of miss muffett. cut the sun-bonnet of the same paper as the dress. fig. shows the pattern, which is ten inches long and nine inches wide. fold the straight edge over three times, according to the dotted lines in fig. , making the folds one and one-quarter inches wide. fig. shows the bonnet folded, and the dotted line around the curve indicates where it is to be gathered in at the neck. [illustration: the sun-bonnet.] fit fig. on miss muffett's head, allowing the folded edge to extend slightly beyond her face, then draw the bonnet down at the back and gather it in with your fingers until it sits snugly to the neck. through the middle of the fold, one inch from each end, puncture a hole, and through these two holes pass the thread that goes around the back of the bonnet and ties under miss muffett's chin. see illustration of sun-bonnet. chapter xii an indian encampment an indian encampment for your very own! a wigwam, camp-fire, indian travois, blanket-weaving loom, gorgeous feathered head-dress, bow, arrows and shield, tomahawk, wampum, and a little copper-colored papoose in its funny stiff cradle, hanging on a tree entirely alone! does not all that sound delightful? the complete scene can actually be made to appear in your room at home. take for the ground a common pastry-board or any kind of board of the desired size--about nineteen by twenty-six inches--and for grass cover one side and the four edges of the board with a piece of light-green cotton flannel stretched tight, fleece side up, and tacked to the under side of the board. sprinkle sand and small stones on the grass at one side of the wigwam, to show where the grass has been worn off by the tramping of the indians, the bronco pony, and the dog, for all indians possess dogs of some description. if you have a toy dog of suitable size, stand him by the fire where he will be comfortable. before the red men owned horses, a dog was always used to drag the travois, and to this day the braves care as much for a dog as does any pale-faced boy--which is saying much, for a white boy and any kind of a dog make devoted friends and comrades. [illustration: fig. .--home-made compass.] now that we have our camping-ground, the first thing we must do is to put up the wigwam for shelter. draw an eight-inch diameter circle on the grass near one end of the ground. fold a strip of paper lengthwise, stick a pin through one end of the paper and drive it down into the board where you wish the centre of the circle, push the point of a lead pencil through the other end of the paper four inches from the pin; keep the pin steady while you move the pencil around many times until a circle appears plainly on the grass (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--pole sharpened to flat point.] cut twelve slender sticks eleven inches long and sharpen the heavy end of each into a flat point (fig. ). the sticks must be straight, for they are wigwam-poles. tie three poles together two inches from their tops and spread out the sharpened ends at nearly equal distances apart on the circle line; mark the spots where they rest and bore gimlet-holes in each place through the cloth into the wood. enlarge each hole with a penknife and insert the poles, pushing the sharpened points down firmly into the holes (fig. ). add seven more poles around the circle, keeping the spaces between all about even. sink these last poles in the ground as you did the first three; then tie the tops together around the first three poles, and you will have the wigwam framework of ten poles standing strong and firm. [illustration: fig. .--first three poles planted firmly in edge of circle for wigwam.] [illustration: fig. .--cover for wigwam.] make the cover of unbleached or brown-tinted cotton cloth cut like fig. . mark the curved lower edge with the home-made compass used for the grass circle. fasten the pin and pencil in the paper strip nine and one-half inches apart; draw almost a half circle, then an inch and a half from the spot a (fig. ), where the pin is stationed, begin to cut the opening for the top of the wigwam poles, b (fig. ). slash the point c in as far as d, sew pieces of cloth over the points e and e, leaving the opening at dotted lines to form pockets for the smoke-poles. cut two rows of little holes on each side of the upper part of the wigwam to run the pinsticks through when fastening the wigwam together (fig. ). now comes the fun of decorating the cover. pin the cloth out flat and smooth, and paint in brilliant red, yellow, black, green, white, and blue the designs given in fig. . when finished, fit the cover over the wigwam-poles and with short, slender sticks pin the fronts together. peg the lower edge down to the ground with short black pins and slide a pole in each pocket of the smoke-flaps e and e (fig. ). bring the poles around and cross them at the back of the wigwam. as you do this you will exclaim with delight at the result, for the little wigwam will be very realistic. in front of your wigwam or tepee build a make-believe fire of bits of orange and scarlet tissue-paper mixed in with short twigs, and then you must manufacture something to cook in. bore a hole in the ground near the fire and fit in the fire-pole, making it slant over to one side and hang directly above the fire. place a stone over the embedded end of the pole to keep it firm. suspend an acorn kettle or any little kettle of the right size for the indians to use on the pole and the camp will begin to look cosey for the red men to enjoy. hunt up a jointed doll about five inches high, paint it copper color, ink its hair, and the doll will be a fairly good indian. if you can find a zulu doll of the required size, with long, straight black hair, and give him a wash of dull red paint, you can turn him into a fine indian. failing these dolls, make an indian doll of dull red raffia or cloth. this you can do if you try, and remember to have your red man a little more slender than store dolls; most of these are rather too stout to make good indians. [illustration: fig. .--wigwam with make-believe camp-fire.] real chiefs like turning eagle, swift dog, crazy bull, and others, wore gorgeous feather headdresses, and gloried in the strange war bonnets, not because they were gay and startling, but for the reason that each separate feather in the head-band meant that the owner had performed a brave deed of which the tribe was proud, and the greater the number of brave deeds the greater the number of feathers; consequently the longer the bonnet-trail. this explains the real meaning of the common expression, "a feather in your cap." [illustration: fig. .--pattern for war bonnet.] your indian must be a mighty chief and will need a very long-trailing war bonnet. cut the head-dress like fig. of white paper. paint all the paper horse-hair tips on the paper eagle feathers red, the tops of the feathers black, and the band in which they are fastened yellow, red, and green, leaving white spaces between the colors (fig. ). cut out, then turn the end of the band f (fig. ) until the loop fits the indian's head, and glue the end of the loop on the strip (fig. ). paste fringed yellow paper around each of the chieftain's feet, fringed edge uppermost, to serve as moccasins. part the indian's hair at the back, bring the two divisions in front, one on each side of the head, and wind each with scarlet worsted as the real indian wears his hair, then wrap around your red man a soft, dull-colored cloth extending from the waist to the knees. pin the drapery in place and the chief will be ready to take charge of his bronco pony, which may be any toy horse you happen to possess. the horse in the illustration is an ordinary cloth toy. [illustration: fig. .--indian war bonnet.] [illustration: fig. .--tie the four poles together and tie thongs across centre for your travois.] red men are not fond of remaining long in one place, and naturally your indian will soon want to break camp and carry his belongings elsewhere. help him prepare by making a travois. you will need four slender poles, two fifteen and one-half inches long, one five and one-half and another six and one-half inches long. bind the six-and-a-half-inch pole across the two long poles four inches from their heavy ends; fasten the five-and-a-half-inch pole across the long poles two and one-half inches above the first cross-piece. instead of thongs of buffalo hide, such as the real red man would use, take narrow strips of light-brown cloth to form the rude net-work over the space bounded by the four poles. tie the top ends of the long poles together (fig. ), then tie the travois to the horse, as in fig. . in most of these conveyances the thongs are tied across one way only, from short pole to short pole, forming a ladder-like arrangement. [illustration: fig. .--travois ready for camping outfit.] [illustration: fig. .--different parts of straw calumet.] [illustration: fig. .--calumet finished.] a chief must always have his calumet, or "pipe of peace," to smoke and pass around the council circle, when all the leaders of the different tribes meet to talk over important matters concerning the welfare of their people. real calumets are generally large and of goodly length, some of them being four feet long. they are made of dull-red stone, which, when first cut from the large mass, is soft enough to be carved out with a knife; later the pipe becomes hard and capable of receiving a polish. but as the red stone is not within our reach, we must use dull red-colored straw for the calumet. soak the straw in hot water to render it less brittle. then cut a three-inch length piece; make a hole in it a short distance from one end (fig. , g) and insert a three-quarter inch length of straw for the pipe bowl (fig. , h). for the mouthpiece take a half-inch length of white straw (fig. , i), and slide it in the other end of the pipe. glue both bowl and mouthpiece in place and decorate the calumet with red, green, and white silk floss tied on the pipe stem (fig. ). the tomahawk must not be forgotten. soak a stick two and one-half inches long in hot water; when it is pliable, split an end down one inch, no more (fig. , j), and in true indian fashion bind a stone hatchet (fig. , k) between the split sides of the stick handle with thongs of hide. whittle the little hatchet from a piece of wood, cover it with glue, then with sand. when dry it will be difficult for others to believe that the implement is not of real stone. instead of thongs use thread (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--handle and hatchet for tomahawk.] [illustration: fig. .--tomahawk ready for use.] the chieftain's shield is of hide taken from the neck of the bull bison; the piece must be twice the required size for a finished shield to allow for the necessary shrinkage. over a fire built in a hole in the ground the skin is stretched and pegged down. when heated, it is covered with a strong glue made from the hoofs and joints of the bison, which causes the hide to contract and thicken. as this process goes on the pegs are loosened and again adjusted until the skin ceases to contract and absorb the glue. then the hide is much smaller and thicker than at first. when it has slowly cooled, the skin is cut into a circle and decorated. though pliable, the shield is strong enough to ward off blows from arrows or spears. [illustration: fig. .--diagram for shield.] [illustration: fig. . eagle feather of paper.] [illustration: fig. .--decorated indian shield.] bison hide is something you cannot obtain, so take writing paper for the shield. cut it into a circle an inch and a half in diameter, with an extension for the handle (fig. ). glue the free end of the handle on the opposite side of the back of the shield. make ten paper eagle feathers (fig. ), hang seven on the bottom of the shield with red thread, after first decorating the centre of the shield with given designs and the edge with colored bands, using any or all of the following colors, but no others: positive red, blue for the sky, green for the grass, yellow for the sun, white for the clouds and snow, and black. to the indian color is a part of religion. purple, pinks, and some other colors, the red man, loyal to his beliefs, can never bring himself to use. attach two of the remaining feathers at the top and another on the centre of the shield, as shown in fig. . the indian makes his arrow-heads of triangular flakes of flint chipped from a stone held between his knees and struck with a rude stone hammer. the pieces knocked off are carefully examined, and only those without flaws are kept. stones for arrow-heads must be very hard. when found, the red men bury them in wet ground and build fires over them, causing the stones to show all cracks and checks. this enables the arrow-maker to discard those unfitted for his work. [illustration: fig. .--paper flint arrow-head.] though you cannot make a real flint arrow-head, you can manufacture a toy one. take a piece of stiff pasteboard and cut it like fig. . let the length be a trifle over half an inch. cover the arrow-head all over with a light coat of glue, then dip it in sand, and the arrow-head will come out as if made of stone. were it actually hard stone and large size you would be obliged, as the indians do, to trim and shape more perfectly the point and edges of the arrow-head. you would hold a pad of buckskin in your left hand to protect it from the sharp flint, and on your right hand would be a piece of dressed hide to guard it from the straight piece of bone, pointed on the end, which you would use to strike off little bits of stone along both edges, working cautiously as you neared the point in order not to break it. but such work will not be needed on your arrow-head. [illustration: fig. .--insert arrow-head in shaft.] [illustration: fig. .--arrow-head and shaft bound together.] for the shaft hunt up a piece of wood strong and straight. cut it three inches in length, remove the bark and scrape the wood until it is about the thickness of an ordinary match. notch one end and split the other end down one-quarter of an inch, insert the arrow-head (fig. ), then bind the shaft and head together with thread (fig. ), in place of the wet sinew an indian would use for a real arrow, after he had first fastened the head in the shaft with glue from buffalo hoofs. [illustration: fig. .--paper feather for arrow.] [illustration: fig. .] cut three paper feather strips (fig. ), each an inch in length, paint black bands on them, bend at dotted line and glue the feathers on the shaft one-quarter of an inch from the notch, allowing them to stand out at angles equally distant from each other (fig. ). bind the extensions l and m (fig. ) to the shaft, and tie tufts of white and red worsted on immediately above the feathers to help in finding the arrow (fig. ). paint the shaft in brilliant colors. almost any kind of wood that has a spring will make a good bow for your little indian. cut the piece of wood four inches long and an eighth of an inch wide. scrape it flat on one side and slightly rounded on the other, notch the stick at each end, wind the centre with red worsted and paint the bow in bright hues (fig. ). tie a strong thread in one notch and bring it across to the other notch; tighten until it bends the bow centre half an inch from the straight thread; tie the thread around the notch (fig. ). now try the wee weapon; hold it vertically and shoot the little arrow into the air. it will fly very swiftly away, landing many yards from where you stand. [illustration: fig. .--finished arrow.] [illustration: fig. .--bow ready for string.] [illustration: fig. . bow string.] make the bow case (fig. ) of ordinary wrapping paper cut like fig. , three and a half inches long and two and a half inches wide. fold the paper lengthwise through the centre and glue the sides together along the dotted lines; then fringe the edge up to the dotted line and decorate with gay paint. [illustration: fig. .--cut bow case like this] [illustration: fig. .--bow case finished.] dress the jointed doll squaw in a fringed chamois-skin gown; fold the skin and let one half form the front, the other half the back. cut the garment like the half n, in fig. , stitch the sides together, stitch the under part of the sleeves together and fringe both sleeves and bottom of the dress (o, fig. ). belt the gown in with scarlet worsted and load the squaw down with strands of colored beads; then seat her on the grass (fig. ) while you make the primitive loom for her to use in weaving one of the famous navajo blankets. [illustration: fig. .--squaw's chamois dress.] paint a two by four inch piece of white cotton cloth with a blanket design in red and black, with white between the markings, and pin it securely on a board (fig. ). tie stones to a pole six inches in length (fig. ); with long stitches fasten the stone-weighted pole to the bottom edge of the painted cloth blanket (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--squaw doll make-believe weaving navajo blanket on primitive loom.] two inches above the blanket attach a six-inch pole to the board with pins and use a coarse needle and heavy thread to make the warp. run the thread through the wrong side of the blanket and up around the pole. cross it on the under side of the long thread (p, fig. ) which extends from blanket to pole. [illustration: fig. .--indian blanket pinned on board.] [illustration: fig. .--stones tied to pole for bottom of loom.] [illustration: fig. .--building primitive loom.] carry the thread along the pole a short distance, loop it over (q, fig. ) and bring the thread down through the right side of the blanket. take a long stitch and again carry the thread up over the pole. continue until the warp is entirely across the blanket. pin another pole six and a half inches long, three-quarters of an inch above the top pole, and fasten the two poles together by tying loops of string across from one to the other (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--primitive loom ready for frame.] make the loom frame of two seven-inch poles four and a half inches apart and crossed at the top by another seven-inch pole, the three firmly tied together and made to stand erect on the grass by planting the two upright poles in holes bored through the cloth grass into the board ground. hang the loom on this frame by winding a narrow strip of cloth loosely around the top of the frame and top of loom (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--natural twig and tissue-paper tree.] find a stout, short-branched twig for the tree (fig. ). sharpen the bottom and drive it into a hole in the ground. for the foliage cut a fringe of soft green and olive-brown tissue-paper folded lengthwise in strips. crimp the strips with a blade of the scissors, then open out the fringe; gather each one through the centre, give the paper a twist, and the two ends will form bunches of foliage. work the twisted centre of one piece down into a crack at the top of the tree. over across this at right angles in another opening, fit in the second twist of paper foliage and crown all with a bunch standing upright as shown at fig. . [illustration: fig. .--the little papoose you can make.] [illustration: cradle for papoose.] a solemn little papoose bound in its stiff cradle is one of the drollest things imaginable. paint a small doll copper color, make its hair black, and bind the baby in a cradle cut from brown pasteboard (fig. ). cut along heavy line and bend forward the tongue r along the dotted line, bring the strap s across and glue the end on the under side of the cradle; then line the cradle with white tissue-paper and place the indian child on it; spread a piece of vivid red tissue-paper over the infant, bringing the sides of the cover on the under side of the cradle, where you must glue them. fold over the lower end of the paper and glue that also on the back of the cradle. paint the cradle and portions of the cover white, green, black, and yellow (fig. ); then hang the cradle and baby on the limb of the tree (fig. ), where the little papoose will be safe while his squaw-mother works at her weaving. the red men use queer money which they call wampum. it is made of shells found usually along the borders of rivers and lakes. the indians cut the thick part of the shell into cylinders about an inch long, bore holes lengthwise through the centres and string them like beads on fine, strong sinews (fig. ), but this money is not as pretty as glass beads, for it resembles pieces of common clay pipe stems. a certain number of hand-breadths of wampum will buy a gun, a skin, a robe, or a horse, and when presented by one chief to another the wampum means good-will and peace. of course, you will want to supply your indians with their own kind of money. you can string the wampum into a necklace and decorate the strand with eagle claws, bright beads, and tufts of gay worsted. [illustration: fig. . wampum, indian money.] [illustration: fig. . buffalo claw cut from wood.] find some beads much smaller, but as near as possible in color and form to real wampum, and string them with tiny eagle claws made of wood cut like fig. , only smaller. paint the claws very dark gray, almost black, and bore a hole through the heavy end with a hat-pin heated red hot. the claws will then string easily and give quite a savage appearance to the necklace (fig. ). let the colored worsted tufts, which must take the place of hair, be bright-red, and the strands of round beads on each side of the necklace of various colors (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--indian necklace of wampum, eagle claws, tufts of hair, and bone beads.] indians when they cannot obtain beads use gayly colored porcupine quills for their embroidery. you need not try the embroidery, but be sure to make the entire indian encampment with everything pertaining to it. chapter xiii a toy colonial kitchen with fac-simile colonial furnishings. would it not be fun to see a yoke of real live oxen come slowly walking into the kitchen dragging a load of logs? that is what many of the colonial boys and girls saw every day, and frequently the boys helped their fathers cut the logs which were for the big kitchen fireplace. and such a fireplace! large enough for the huge, roaring fire and the chimney-seats also. these were placed close against the sides of the opening, making fine places for the boys and girls to sit and listen to thrilling tales of adventure or delightful fairy stories. [illustration: a little colonial kitchen, drawn from one made by the author. fig. .] the kitchen in those days was the chief apartment and the most interesting room in the house. who would want to go into the stiff, prim "best room" when they could be so much more comfortable in the spacious kitchen where everyone was busy and happy, and where apples could be hung by a string in front of the fire to roast and made to spin cheerily when the string was twisted, that all sides might be equally heated? any girl or boy to-day would be only too glad of a chance to sit on a log in front of such a fire and watch red apples turn and sputter as the heat broke the apple skin, setting free the luscious juice to trickle down the sides. as the indian's first thought was for shelter, and he put up his wigwam, so the early settler's first thought was for shelter, and he built, not a wigwam, but a log-house with a kitchen large enough to serve as a general utility room. it was filled with various things, and all articles in it were used constantly. everything not brought from the mother country the settlers made by hand. the colonial kitchen you can build may be of gray or white cardboard. old boxes, if large enough, will answer the purpose. [illustration: fig. .--kitchen floor.] i will tell you exactly how i built the colonial kitchen seen in fig. . i made the floor (fig. ), the two side walls both alike (fig. ), the back wall (fig. ), and the interior of the fireplace (fig. ) of light-gray cardboard. i cut all the heavy lines, scored and then bent all the dotted lines. [illustration: fig. .--side wall.] [illustration: fig. .--back wall.] now you do the same thing. get your measurements correct and be careful to make the lines perfectly straight. before putting the kitchen together, fasten the rustic brackets, cut from a branching twig (fig. ), on the wall above the mantel-piece to support the flintlock gun. take two stitches through the wall around each twig, as shown in fig. , at the dots a and a and b and b (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--interior of fireplace.] every colonial fireplace boasted of a strong crane upon which to hang the pots and kettles over the fire. one end of the crane was bent down and attached to the side chimney wall by iron rings. these rings allowed the crane to turn so that the extending iron rod could be swung forward to receive the hanging cooking utensils and then pushed back, carrying the pot and kettles over the fire for the contents to cook. the crane was black and of iron. a hair-pin (fig. ) makes a fine crane. bend yours, as shown in fig. , then with two socket-rings made with stitches of black darning-cotton fasten the crane to the side of the chimney at the dots c and c (fig. ), and tie a piece of the darning-cotton on the little crane immediately below the lower socket-ring; bring the thread diagonally across to the top arm of the crane an inch and a quarter from the free end and again tie it securely (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--a forked twig for the bracket.] [illustration: fig. .--put the brackets up in this way.] [illustration: fig. .--the crane is made of a hair-pin.] [illustration: fig. .--the crane.] bend the two sides of the fireplace f and f (fig. ) as in fig. . bend forward the interior of the fireplace (fig. ) at dotted lines, and fit fig. on the back of fig. to form the inside of the fireplace and the mantel-piece. slide the slashed top strips of the sides of the fireplace d,d,d,d (fig. ), back of the slashed strips d,d,d,d (fig. ), which will bring the two centres e and e of the sides in fig. behind f and f in fig. , and will thus form two layers on the sides of the chimney. push the edge g and g of fig. through the slit g and g in fig. to form the mantel-piece, then bend down the edge of mantel-piece along dotted line. [illustration: fig. .--back wall, showing crane hung and oven door open.] you must have an oven at one side of the great fireplace for baking the wholesome "rye and indian" bread, and the delicious home-made apple, pumpkin, rice and cranberry pies. in colonial days thirty large loaves of bread or forty pies would often be baked at one time, so spacious were the ovens. these side-ovens used to be heated by roaring wood fires built inside of them and kept burning for hours. when the oven was thoroughly hot the cinders and ashes were brushed out and in went the pies with a lot of little ones called "patties," for the children. when these were cooked to a golden brown each child was given his own piping hot "patty." make your box-like oven according to fig. , cut the heavy lines, score and bend the dotted lines. bring the side h to the side i; lap i over h so that the two slits, j and j, will exactly fit one over the other; then bend the back down and run the flap j on the back through the two slits j on the side, and the flap k through the slit k. [illustration: fig. .--the oven.] adjust the oven back of the oven door l (fig. ), and fasten it tight on the wall by sliding the flap m of the oven (fig. ) through the slit m (fig. ) above the oven door; bend it down flat against the wall. bring the bottom oven-flap n in through and over the lower edge of the oven door-way n (fig. ) and bend that also flat against the wall (fig. ). the two side oven flaps will rest against the back of the wall on each side of the oven door-way. now that is finished firm and strong, and you can put the kitchen together in a few moments. lay the floor (fig. ) down flat on a table; bend up the two diagonal sides o and o, and slide the slit p in the side wall (fig. ) down into the slit p of the floor (fig. ), bringing the wall (fig. ) in front of the upturned floor-piece o (fig. ). in the same way fasten the other side wall on the floor. slip the two slits q and q of the back wall (fig. ) down across the top slits (q, fig. ) of the side walls. while bringing the back wall (fig. ) down to the floor, slide its outside strips s and s over and outside of the upturned pieces of the floor, s and s (fig. ), to hold them in place. [illustration: fig. .--pattern for andiron.] as soon as the indian's wigwam was up, he had a brisk fire to cook by, for after shelter came food. the white man did likewise after his house was built. though he had andirons to help with his fire, even then to lay the fire in the immense fireplace required some skill. cut two andirons of cardboard (fig. ), bend at dotted lines, paint black, and the andirons will stand alone and look like real ones (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the andiron.] [illustration: fig. .--the flames.] cut from red, orange, yellow, and black tissue-paper flames like fig. ; bend at dotted line and paste the mingled flames one at a time and turned in varying directions on a piece of cardboard made to fit the bottom of the fireplace. adjust the little black andirons to the fire and glue them in place; select a large log for the "back-log," and a more slender one to lay across the front of the andirons. place smaller wood in between with the flames, and scatter a few bits of black paper on the hearth underneath to appear like fallen charred wood. when finished the fire should look as if it were actually sparkling, roaring, and blazing (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the flames leap up the chimney.] [illustration: fig. .--cut the shell in half.] your fire is ready, so you must hurry and get the great iron pot to hang over the flames. break an egg in halves as indicated by dotted lines in fig. ; even off the edge of the larger half shell with a pair of scissors, paste a strip of tissue-paper over the edge and glue on a stiff paper handle (fig. ). cut three pieces of heavy, stiff paper like fig. , bend at dotted line and pinch the two lower corners on part t together to form the pot legs (fig. ). turn the egg-shell upside down and fasten the legs on by gluing the flap u (fig. ) on the bottom of the shell; the legs should enable the pot to stand upright. turn the egg-shell into iron by painting the handle and outside of the pot jet black (fig. ). swing the crane forward, hang on the pot, pretend you have something to cook in it, then move the crane back over the fire. [illustration: fig. .--a strip of paper for the handle.] [illustration: fig. .--cut the pot leg like this.] [illustration: fig. .--bend the pot leg like this.] [illustration: fig. .--paint the pot black.] remember all the time you are playing, that this is the way your colonial ancestors cooked. in days of long ago, they had many other odd utensils one of the easiest for you to make is the long-handled iron shovel called a "peel" (fig. ), used to place bread and pie in the great oven. cut the peel from stiff cardboard, paint it black and stand it up by the side of the chimney (fig. ). trace the toaster (fig. ) on cardboard, paint it black, bend up the four semicircular rings and bend down the two feet, one on each side (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--a queer shovel called the "peel."] [illustration: fig. .--make the toaster by this pattern.] chicken and other eatables were placed between the front and back rings on the toaster and broiled before the fire, which was so hot that it was necessary to have long handles on all cooking utensils. [illustration: fig. .--the toaster.] [illustration: fig. .--make a pot-hook like this.] several pieces of iron of varying lengths, generally made into the shape of the letter s, were called "pot-hooks"; they hung on the crane. make two or three pot-hooks of cardboard and paint them black (fig. ). when you are not using the little toaster, bend up the handle and hang it on a pin stuck in the wall (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the spinning-wheel and jointed doll spinning.] [illustration: fig. .--spokes.] just look at your little colonial friend, thankful parker! (fig. ). the tiny maid seems almost to be stepping lightly forward and backward as she spins out long threads of the soft, warm yarn, singing softly all the while a little old-fashioned song. how busily she works, and listen! you can all but hear the wheel's cheery hum, hum, hum! that's the way the real colonial dames used to spin. such a spinning-wheel belonged to every family, for all had to do their own spinning or go without the yarn, as they could obtain no assistance from others. [illustration: fig. .--small wheel.] [illustration: fig. .--stand.] [illustration: fig. .--wheel brace.] cut from cardboard the spokes (fig. ) for your miniature colonial spinning-wheel, the tire (fig. ), and the two small wheels (fig. ). bend forward the fan-shaped ends of each spoke (fig. ) and glue the tire (fig. ) around on them; let one edge of tire lie flush on the edges of the bent ends of the spokes. [illustration: fig. .--tire of wheel.] with the exception of the square spaces aa and bb on the stand (fig. ) cut the heavy lines and the little holes; score, then bend the dotted lines. bend down the long sides and the ends fitting the corners against and on the inside of the same letters on the sides, glue these in place and you have a long, narrow box with two extensions on one side (hh and gg). bend these extensions, also their ends ii and jj, and glue the ends on the inside of the opposite side of the box against the places marked ii and jj. turn the box over, bringing the level smooth side uppermost. cut out the wheel brace (fig. ), turn it over on the other side, then bend aa backward and bb forward, and glue the brace on the box-like stand (fig. ) on the squares aa and bb. see fig. . [illustration: fig. .--upright.] make the upright (fig. ) of wood; shave both sides of the end, kk, until it is flat and thin, then glue a small wheel (fig. ) on each side, raising the wheels above the wood that the flat end of the upright may reach only to their centres. glue the wheels together to within a short distance of their edges. with the red-hot end of a hat-pin bore the hole ll through the front of the upright, and below bore another hole, mm, through the side. make the screw (fig. ) and the block (fig. ) of wood. run the screw through the side hole mm in the upright (fig. ), and push the screw on through the hole in the top of the block (fig. ). break off more than half of a wooden toothpick for the spindle (fig. ) and pass it through the hole ll (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--hub.] make the hub (fig. ) of wood and thread it in through the wheel and brace (fig. ), to hold the wheel in place. use two wooden toothpicks, with the ends broken off (fig. ), for legs; insert these slantingly into the holes, gg (fig. ), on the under part of the stand, allowing the top ends to reach up and rest against the under side of the top of the stand. spread out the bottom ends of the legs. [illustration: fig. .--spindle.] [illustration: fig. .--leg.] [illustration: fig. .--screw.] [illustration: fig. .--block.] run the upright (fig. ) through the single hole near one end of the stand (fig. ) and pass it down through the under hole on hh. the lower part of the upright forms the third leg. see that all three legs set evenly when the wheel stands, and that the box part is raised slightly higher at the upright end, slanting downward toward the other end (fig. ). glue the three legs firmly in place. connect the two small wheels (fig. ) and the large wheel together by passing a string between the small wheels and over around the outside of the tire of the large wheel, fastening it on here and there with a little glue (fig. ). twist a piece of raw cotton on the spindle and tie a length of white darning-cotton to the end of the cotton (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--hair-pin.] [illustration: fig. .--do her hair up in this fashion.] stretch the thread across to the hand of your colonial-dressed doll, glue it in place, and the next time your mother attends a meeting of the society of colonial dames tell her to show your little maid thankful parker and her spinning-wheel. when you dress the doll coil her hair up on top of her head (fig. ) and fasten it in place with common pins (fig. ). make the straight bang look as nearly as possible as though the hair were drawn up into a pompadour such as was worn in colonial times. [illustration: fig. .--pattern of cap.] [illustration: fig. .--the cap.] [illustration: fig. .--cap band.] [illustration: fig. .--pattern of kerchief.] make the cap (fig. ) of thin white material cut like fig. , and the band (fig. ) of the same color as the dress. cut the thin white kerchief like fig. , and fold it as in fig. . fig. gives the design for the dress waist, and fig. the sleeve. the skirt is a straight piece gathered into a waistband. the apron (fig. ) is white. when the doll is dressed it should resemble little thankful parker (fig. ). an old-fashioned flintlock rifle with its long, slender barrel was used almost daily by our forefathers for securing game as food. [illustration: fig. .--fold the kerchief like this.] [illustration: fig. .--pattern of waist.] [illustration: fig. .--pattern of sleeve.] [illustration: fig. .--the apron.] the gun was kept hanging in plain sight over the kitchen mantel-piece, ready for defence at a moment's notice, for in those early days wolves and other wild animals were numerous and dangerous, and enemies were also likely to appear at any time. [illustration: fig. .--lock and band of tinfoil.] [illustration: fig. .--make this part of pasteboard.] you should have one of those queer old guns to adorn your kitchen wall. get some heavy tinfoil off the top of a bottle, or take a collapsible tube and from it cut a wide strip like fig. , one narrow, straight strip and two medium-wide straight strips, four in all. cut the butt end of the gun (fig. ) of stiff cardboard. break a piece measuring four and one-half inches from a common coarse steel knitting-needle for your gun-barrel and use a slender, round stick, or the small holder of a draughtsman's pen, cutting it a trifle more than three and one-half inches in length for the ramrod groove. [illustration: fig. .--a pin for a ramrod.] [illustration: fig. .--slide the paper end in the wood like this.] in the centre of one end of the stick bore a deep hole with the red-hot point of a hat-pin and insert the pointed end of an ordinary pin for a ramrod (fig. ). split the other end of the stick up through the centre not quite half an inch and work the butt end of the gun in the opening (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--ready for the tinfoil bands.] lay the gun-barrel above the wooden part (fig. ) and fasten the two together with the four bands of tinfoil (fig. ), allowing the top part of fig. to stand up free to represent the flintlock. we must be content without a trigger unless you can manage to make one by bending down and cutting a part of fig. . paint the butt and wooden portion of the gun brown before binding on the barrel, and you will find that you have made a very real-looking little rifle to hang upon the rustic brackets over the mantel-piece. [illustration: fig. .--colonial flintlock made of knitting-needle and small pen-holder.] when the fire in your big kitchen fireplace needs brightening, use the little bellows to send fresh air circulating through the smouldering embers. the bellows are easy to make. cut two pieces of pasteboard like fig. , and cut two short strips of thin paper. paste one edge of each strip to each side of one piece of cardboard bellows, fold the strips across the centre (fig. ), and attach the free ends of the folded strips to the other piece of pasteboard bellows, forming a hinge-like connection on each side between the two pasteboard sides. paste the points of the two sides together up as far as the dotted line (fig. ). when thoroughly dry you can work the bellows by bringing the handles together and opening them as you would real bellows (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the finished bellows.] [illustration: fig. .--cut the bellows by this pattern.] heavy tinfoil must furnish material for your pewter ware; much of it has the same dull, leaden color and the peculiar look of old pewter. should the pieces of tinfoil you find be twisted and uneven, lay them on a table and smooth out the creases with scissors or the dull edge of a knife-blade; then cut out round, flat pieces and holding one at a time in the palm of your left hand, round up the edges by rolling the ball of a hat-pin around and around the plate; press rather hard and soon the edges will begin to crinkle and turn upward (fig. ). you may mould some deeper than others and have a row of different-sized pewter plates on the kitchen mantel-piece, and you can make a wee pie in the deepest plate, open the oven-door and shove the pastry into the oven with the little iron peel. try it. [illustration: fig. .--colonial pewter dish made of tinfoil.] [illustration: fig. .--the warp.] the colonial kitchen would be incomplete without a bright, home-like rag rug to place over the bare board floor, and it will be fun for you to weave it. take a piece of smooth brown wrapping-paper the size you want your mat, fold it crosswise through the centre and cut across the fold (fig. ), making a fringe of double pieces which we will call the warp. unfold the paper and weave various colored tissue-strips in and out through the brown foundations (fig. ), until the paper warp is all filled in with pretty, bright colors. you can weave the rug "hit or miss" or in stripes wide or narrow as you choose, only make the rugs as pretty as possible. [illustration: fig. .--weave the rug in this way.] now we must manufacture a fine old colonial clock [illustration: fig. .--colonial clock with movable weights.] [illustration: fig. .--the clock is cut in one piece.] (fig. ). it would never do to forget the clock, for poor little thankful would not know how long her many loaves of bread were baking in the big oven, and the bread might burn. cut fig. of cardboard and score all dotted lines, except nn-oo, which forms the hinge of the door. mark this with a pinhole at top and bottom, turn the cardboard over and draw a line from pinhole to pinhole; then score it on this line that the door may open properly outward. try to draw the face of the clock correctly. make it in pencil first so that any mistake may be erased and corrected. when you have the face drawn as it should be, go over the pencil lines with pen and ink. begin the face with a circle (fig. ). make it as you made the circle for the wigwam, only, of course, very much smaller. above the circle, at the distance of half the diameter of the circle, draw a curve with your home-made compass (fig. ). lengthen the compass a little and make another curve a trifle above the first (fig. ). connect the lower curve with the circle by two straight lines (fig. ), draw a small circle above the large one (fig. ), connect the two circles by two scallops (fig. ), and bring the upper curve down into a square (fig. ). the small top circle stands for the moon; draw a simple face on it like fig. , then make the numbers on the large circle (fig. ) and also the hands (fig. ). both numbers and hands must be on the same circle on the clock. they are on two different circles in the diagrams that you may see exactly how to draw them. [illustration: fig. .--draw the circle.] [illustration: fig. .--then a curve above the circle.] [illustration: fig. .--another curve above the first one.] [illustration: fig. .--connect the lower curve with the circle by two lines.] leave fig. white, but paint the other portions of the clock a light reddish brown with black lines above and below the door, and a black band almost entirely across the bottom edge of the front of the clock that the clock may appear to be standing on feet. gild the three points on the top to make them look as if made of brass. be sure that the four holes in the top (fig. ) are fully large enough to allow a coarse darning-needle to be passed readily through them; then bend the clock into shape, fitting the extension pp over the extension qq; the two holes in pp must lie exactly over those in qq. glue the clock together, using the blunt end of a lead-pencil, or any kind of a stick, to assist in holding the sides and tops together until the glue is perfectly dry. [illustration: fig. .--draw a small circle above the large one.] [illustration: fig. .--connect the two circles by two scallops.] [illustration: fig. .--extend line of upper circle down to form a square.] [illustration: fig. .--make this face in the small circle.] [illustration: fig. .--put the numbers on the clock face in this way.] [illustration: fig. .--make the hands of the clock like these.] thread a piece of heavy black darning-cotton in the largest-sized long darning-needle you can find; on one end of the thread mould a cylinder-shaped piece of beeswax, cover it with thin tinfoil, then open the clock-door and hold the clock with its head bent outward and downward from you. look through the open door and see the holes on the inside of the top; run your needle through one of these holes and across the top on the outside, bringing it down through the other hole into the clock. slip the needle off the thread and mould another piece of beeswax on the free end of the thread, make it the same size and shape as the first weight, cover this also with tinfoil and you will have clock-weights (fig. ) for winding up the old-fashioned timepiece. gently pull down one weight and the other will go up, just as your colonial forefathers wound their clocks. when the weight is pulled down in the real clock it winds up the machinery, and the clock continues its tick, tack, tick, like the ancient timepiece longfellow tells us of, stationed in the hall of the old-fashioned country-seat. [illustration: fig. .--weights for winding the clock.] [illustration: fig. .--pattern of the churn.] [illustration: fig. .--the churn.] do you like real country buttermilk, and have you ever helped churn? if you live in the city or for some other reason are not able to make the butter, you can still enjoy manufacturing a little colonial churn that will look capable of producing the best sweet country butter (fig. ). [illustration: fig. --cork lid to the churn.] [illustration: fig. .--dasher.] [illustration: fig. .--push the end of the handle through the dasher.] [illustration: fig. .--cut end of handle pasted on the dasher.] [illustration: fig. .--handle of the dasher.] [illustration: fig. .--put the handle of the dasher through the lid.] cut fig. of heavy paper or light-weight cardboard; mark three bands on it (fig. ). make your churn much larger than pattern, have it deep enough to stand as high as fig. . glue the sides together along the dotted lines, turn up the circular bottom and glue the extensions up around the bottom of the churn. fit a cork in the top for the churn-lid and make a hole through the centre of the cork for the handle of the dasher (fig. ). make the handle by rolling up a strip of paper as you would roll a paper lighter. glue the loose top end of the handle on its roll; then cut the large end of the handle up a short distance through its centre (fig. ). cut the dasher (fig. ) from cardboard, slide it over the divided end of handle (fig. ), bend the two halves of the handle-end in opposite directions, and glue them on the dasher as shown in fig. . slip the handle of dasher through the cork lid (fig. ), and fit the lid in the churn (fig. ). paint the churn and handle of dasher a light-yellow-brown wood color, the bands black, and when dry you can work the dasher up and down the same as if the churn were a real one. stand the churn in your kitchen not far from the fire so that little thankful may attend to the cooking while she is churning. chapter xiv little paper houses of japan fragile, quaint and full of sunshine and color are the typical houses of japan. they are so simple in construction a child might almost build them, generally only one story in height and always without a cellar, chimneys, fireplaces, windows, and even without a door. yet the dainty abodes are flooded with light and fresh air. how is it managed? simply by sliding the entire front of the house to one side, leaving the building wide open. often the back walls, too, are opened, and in some houses the sides also. these cottages are usually part wood and part paper. it seems strange to think of people actually living in paper dwellings, but the japanese understand how to manufacture strong, durable paper. they delight in making all sorts of paper, from the tough, well-nigh indestructible kind to the delicate, filmy variety, and it is adapted to innumerable uses. in japan people not only build paper walls, but the very poor wear paper clothing. we will make our japanese house entirely of paper (fig. ). take medium-weight water-color paper, or any kind that is stiff enough and not too brittle, cut a piece sixteen inches long and seventeen inches wide and on it mark the plan of the large room (fig. ). this should measure sixteen inches across the back from a to a, seventeen inches along the side from a to b, and thirteen inches across the front from b to c. the back division forms the foliage and the back of the room, the centre division the roof, and the front division the front and sides of the room. [illustration: fig. .--the little paper house.] [illustration: fig. .--plan of large room.] no paste is used in making the building; the design is merely cut out, bent into shape, and fastened together with projecting tongues run through slits. cut all the heavy lines, lightly score, then bend all the dotted lines, except the two immediately across the front of the room at top and bottom. this front is five inches wide and four and a half inches high, with two openings in it and a portion extending down in front to form the little porch. make a pinhole at each end of the two lines forming top and bottom of the front of the room a and b, then turn the paper over and draw a top line and a bottom line across on the wrong side of the paper from pin-point to pin-point. score these on the wrong side of the paper, for they must bend from that side in order to extend inward from the right side to form the projection of the roof and the top landing of the veranda. fasten the room together, then cut out the floor (fig. ), slide it in place and also the steps (fig. ), marking straight lines across the diagram to indicate steps. [illustration: fig. .--floor of large room.] build the small room (fig. ) in the same way that you made the large one. cut it from a piece of paper nine and one-half inches wide and thirteen and one-half inches long. this room has no floor. when finished run the tongues extending out on the back of the room through the remaining four slits at the side of the foliage on the back of the large room (fig. ). work carefully and you will be fully repaid. [illustration: fig. .--the steps.] paint the roof of each room in little black squares with white markings between to represent black tiling. paint the outside of the house yellow, the back wall of the large room pale blue, the floor light brown. paint the back of the small room mottled green and pink. make a band of light blue edged with black across the outside top of the front opening and a red band across the bottom. let the projecting veranda be yellow, with vines across the lower part. edge the openings of the large room with two narrow bands, one purple the other black, and mark black lines from side to side crossed with lines running from top to bottom to form a lattice-like work on the side of the smaller opening (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--plan of small room.] the sides of the house are supposed to be formed of paper-covered screens which slide in grooves and may be removed entirely when desired. the interior of a real japanese house is divided into rooms merely by the use of sliding paper screens, and the entire floor may readily be thrown into one large apartment, there being no solid partitions as in our houses. cut out flat round paper lanterns, paint them with the gayest of colors and make the small top and bottom bands black; then with needle and thread fasten the lanterns along the top front of the large opening of the small room (fig. ). you need not be concerned in the least about furnishing the little house: it does not need any furniture, for the japanese have no stoves, chairs, tables, knives or forks, carpets, bedsteads, washstands, bookcases, desks, framed pictures, nor any comforts like ours. the floors are covered with clean, thick, soft matting rugs and are just the place for girls and boys to play, and have a good time running about in their stocking feet, for in japan people always take off their shoes before entering a house and everyone goes either stocking-footed or barefooted when indoors, so the floor-mats are kept free from dust. of course, men, women, and children all sit on the floor; and when breakfast is ready the floor is set instead of a table, and each person receives his own little lacquer tray placed on the floor, or on a low wooden stool, with the individual portion of rice in a delicate china bowl, pale tea in dainty teacups and shredded or diced raw fish in china a queen might envy. on the tray are also a pair of ivory chopsticks, which even a little child can manage skilfully, in place of the spoon, knife, or fork that our girls or boys would use. the japanese do not have bread, butter, milk, or coffee, and never any meat, but they cultivate a mammoth radish which is cut up, pickled and eaten with relish. for dinner they take pale tea, rice, and fish, and for supper fish, pale tea, and rice. often the fish is cooked, sweetmeats are served and pickled radish also, but frequently the breakfast consists of merely a bowl of cold rice. these unique people do not seem to think or care much about their food; many times they deny themselves a meal that they may spend the money on a feast of flowers in some garden where they can enjoy gazing upon masses of exquisite cherry blossoms, chrysanthemums, or other flowers. no nation in the world loves flowers more than the japanese, and none can rival them in the beautiful arrangement of their blossoms. when night comes the natives never go to bed, for there are no beds. soft silk or cotton comforts are brought to each person, and the people roll themselves up in the comforts and sleep any place they wish on the floor, using little wooden or lacquer benches for pillows; usually these have a roll of soft paper on the top, making them a little more comfortable. take a comfort and try sleeping on the floor with some books under your head and you will know how it feels to sleep in japanese style. every japanese house should have its fenced-in garden. make your fence of paper cut according to fig. , and mark the pattern (fig. ) on it with two tones of yellow paint. paint the convex top of the gate-way a bright red with narrow black border, and mark the white gate-posts with black japanese lettering like fig. . paint the remaining portions of the gate-way yellow, the edges black. fig. will help you to grasp the idea of the fence and gate-way. the names of the streets are not on the corners as in our cities, so a panel of white wood is nailed to the gate-posts with both the name of the street and householder on it, and often a charm sign is added. [illustration: fig. .--fence and gate-way.] [illustration: fig. .--draw this pattern on the fence.] put up the fence by slipping the upper tongues on each end through the slit on the outside front edge of each room, then sliding the lower tongues of the fence through the lower outside edges of rooms and porches (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--signs for gate-posts.] both boys and girls have fine times in japan, and they are as happy as the day is long. on the fifth day of the fifth month the boys reign supreme, and their relatives and friends vie with each other in their endeavors to render the day a happy one for the little fellows. all japan is alive and anxious to celebrate the occasion. quaint flags in the shape of enormous fish swim in the air and float over the towns, forming bright masses of color. every home that is blessed with one or more boys displays a fish banner for each son, the younger the child the larger the fish, and the proudest house is the one that can boast of the greatest number of fish flying from its bamboo pole. every japanese boy's birthday is celebrated on this day with great rejoicing, no matter at what time of the year he was born. [illustration: fig. .--upper half of koi.] [illustration: fig. .--under half of koi.] [illustration: fig. .--the koi--emblem of undaunted determination.] [illustration: fig. .--boy's birthday pole.] make several fish for the pole to be placed in front of the little paper house; they look very comical, bobbing and swinging high in air with their wide-open mouths. cut fig. of white tissue-paper, also fig. , which is a trifle larger than the first and is slashed along three edges. lay fig. on top of fig. ; bend the flaps over and paste them on fig. . form a little hoop of a strip of stiff paper with the ends pasted together; blow the fish open, then paste the hoop on the inside of the open edge of the head to form its immense mouth. when dry mark the fish with red paint like fig. . tie a thread on the two opposite sides of the mouth and with another thread attach the loop to a slender stick on the end of which you have fastened a gold disk made of two pieces of gilt paper. this is intended to represent the rice ball with which the real fish are fed. the fish banners are hollow so that the wind may fill them, causing the fish to rise and fall as the breeze comes and goes. push the end of your fish-pole through the centre of a small box-lid or button mould (fig. ) and stand the decoration outside the gate-way of the little house. the fish used on this eventful day are the famous carp, which the natives call _koi_, the unconquerable. the japanese carp stands for good cheer, indomitable will, perseverance and fortitude, and it is used to impress these virtues upon the boys, but all the good qualities named are fully as necessary for girls even though the japanese do not mention the fact, but girls are not forgotten. the nation gives them the third day of the third month for their festival. it is called the "feast of dolls," and is a gala day for little girls. dolls and gorgeously dressed images, representing the mikado, nobles, and ladies, are brought out and placed on exhibition, along with beautiful jars containing queer little trees and rare vases filled with flowers. the day is made a joyous one and a day long to be remembered by the little girls. [illustration: fig. . pattern of kago.] there are no sidewalks in japan, the pavements being laid lengthwise through the centre of the streets, and on this path people stroll or hurry along. mingled with the others are the japanese laboring men, called coolies, carrying between them the kago, which swings from a pole the ends of which rest on the men's shoulders. the _kago_ is a sort of canopied hammock chair. you can easily fashion a tiny one from paper and straw. cut fig. of stiff paper, make it three inches long and at the broadest part an inch and a quarter wide. paint the _kago_ yellow, and to form the framework sew on each end a piece of heavy broom straw, jointed grass, or straw which has been limbered by soaking, and cut a piece six and three-quarter inches long for each side. bring the side straws together beyond each end and bind them (fig. ). then hunt up a slender round stick six inches long and sew the _kago_ on it by means of thread loops at each end (fig. ). make the canopy of a piece of stiff paper three and one-half inches long and two and one-quarter inches wide, paint it yellow, and with stitches only at each end sew it firmly on the pole over the seat of the _kago_ (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--bind the edges of the kago with grass or straw like this to make the frame.] [illustration: fig. .--tie the kago to the pole.] [illustration: fig. .--sew the top on over the pole.] [illustration: fig. .--the little lady rides in her kago.] either buy a little japanese umbrella or make one of a disk of green tissue-paper folded and crimped from centre to edge. use a heavy broom straw for the handle and lighter ones for the ribs; stick them in, gluing them only to the centre, which is now the top of the umbrella; wind the top of the umbrella, the ribs, and the handle firmly together with black thread. the umbrella will not open but looks well closed. place a tied bundle of red tissue-paper and the green umbrella on top of the yellow _kago_ and fasten them securely in place with black thread (fig. ). fold a piece of soft, lavender-colored material on the seat of the _kago_ as a comfort for the doll to sit on; then fit in a little japanese doll or any kind of doll dressed and painted to resemble a little jap. the doll's head should reach up, or almost up, to the canopy. pull part of the comfort over the doll and fasten her snugly up in a sitting position. make a gay paper fan and attach it to one of the doll's hands, and the little lady will be ready to go on her journey. chapter xv some odd things in russia in his own country the czar is almost worshipped by the people, and when his coronation takes place, crowds of loyal russians flock to moscow, the former in hopes of obtaining a glimpse of their beloved ruler, or at least of seeing portions of the grand procession, the beautiful decorations and the gay festivities which always form part of the jubilant occasion. for centuries the great white czars have been crowned in the cathedral of the assumption, which, though not large, is magnificent, and is the most important building in all russia. the structure stands, surrounded by many other sacred edifices, in an enclosure known as the kremlin, situated in the centre of the city of moscow. its white walls support a vaulted roof of soft, dull green crowned with golden cupolas, each cupola surmounted by a shining golden cross. the interior is resplendent almost beyond description with its rich coloring, its jewel-framed paintings, its sculptures, its gold, silver, and precious stones, its priceless robes and holy relics. [illustration: fig. .--miniature cathedral of the assumption.] to give a true conception of the wonderful interior of the sacred cathedral to one who has never seen it, is impossible, but we can gain an idea of the general appearance of the exterior by making a miniature cathedral of the assumption (fig. ). find, or make, a firm white pasteboard box seven inches long, five and one-quarter inches wide, and four and one-half inches high; this is for the body of the building. fold a strip of paper seven inches in length, crosswise, through the centre, and bring the ends together, making another fold crosswise through the centre of the doubled strip, which will give four layers of paper of equal length. cut this into a scallop three-quarters of an inch deep, open out the strip and you will have four scallops, each one and three-quarters inch wide, at its base. lay the strip in turn along each of the top edges of the sides of the box, and mark the box around the edges of the scallops, drawing four scallops on the two long sides of the box, and three on each of the short sides. cut out the scallops on top of the box; then take the cover of the box, which must form the roof of the structure, and remove the bent-down sides; trim off with scissors the extreme edge of one long side and one short side, until the cover forms a tight fit in the top of the box, but may, with gentle pressure, be made to slide down one inch. fasten the roof in place at each corner by running a strong pin from the outside wall through into the roof, until the pin is embedded its full length in the roof. [illustration: fig. .--the door-way.] [illustration: fig. . the door.] [illustration: fig. .--door window.] [illustration: fig. .--upper window.] [illustration: fig. .--lower front windows.] [illustration: fig. .--lower side windows] now cut the door-way (fig. ) of light reddish-brown paper; make it three inches high and one and one-half inch wide. let the door proper (fig. ) be of inked paper an inch and a half high by an inch and a quarter wide, the door-window (fig. ) one inch and a quarter high by three-quarters of an inch wide. cut the upper row of windows like fig. and the lower front windows according to fig. . make the lower side windows double (fig. ). the door-arch (fig. ) must be a trifle over two and one-quarter inches long. curve the arch by drawing it across a blade of the scissors, paint it green on both sides, bend down the slashed portion, and paste the arch over the door-way, as in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--the door-arch.] [illustration: fig. .--the paper cross.] [illustration: fig. .--a cross on the top of each cupola.] make five cupolas of white writing-paper. for each cupola, cut a piece of paper five inches long. let the first be three inches wide and the remaining four two and one-quarter inches wide; slash up the bottom edge of each cupola one-quarter of an inch; then half an inch below the top edge of each cupola paste a row of narrow, three-quarter-inch high windows cut from inked paper (fig. ). when the windows are on, paste the two ends of each cupola together, lapping them one-quarter of an inch. bend out the lower slashed edge and glue the highest cupola on top of the centre of the roof; fasten the other four on the roof near the corners and at equal distances from the centre (fig. ). have ready five half egg-shells and glue one on the top of each cupola. then cut five paper crosses (fig. ), each measuring about two inches in height, including the lower slashed portion. fasten a cross on top of each egg-shell (fig. ). gild all the crosses and shells, bringing the gilt down into a narrow band on the paper below the shells. on the edge of each shell paste a narrow black-painted paper strip (fig. ), adjusting it so that the gilt on the white paper will show below the points. [illustration: fig. .--a narrow black strip.] to make the roof fasten a five-eighths-inch wide strip of paper along and over the scalloped top edge of the four sides of the building, using strong paste or glue for the purpose (fig. ); be sure that the strip is on even and firm; then let it dry. paint the entire flat roof and flat top surface of the scallops green, using the same paint selected for the door-arch. oil paint is best. be careful not to spatter green on the white and gold cupolas. [illustration: fig. .--fasten a strip of paper along the edge.] when finished, place your little cathedral up high on a level with your eyes, turn it until you have the view which is given in fig. , and you can very easily imagine just how the real cathedral of the assumption appears. thousands of girls, boys, and grown-up men and women in freezing, snowy russia, sleep on their stoves every night during the long winter months. how strange it would seem to be away up on top of a great warm stove, built of brick and nearly as high as the ceiling! the russians do not bother about making the bed, or rather the stove, for they have no sheets, blankets, or bedspreads. when it is time to retire, the inmates climb up on top of the great whitewashed stove and sleep just as they are, in the clothing they wear during the day. [illustration: fig. .--dress a doll like a russian.] [illustration: fig. .--half of cap.] if you would know how the average russian looks, dress a doll like a russian (fig. ). cut two halves of a muslin cap (fig. ) and sew them together (fig. ). sew in strands of tan-colored darning cotton on a line around the cap, midway from top and bottom (a-b, fig. ), and also sew a line of tan-colored strands on each side of the middle stitching of the white cap, until the lower fringe is reached. fig. shows the fringe of hair partially sewed on the cap. glue this cap on the doll's head, smooth down the hair and cut it off straight around, making the hair a trifle shorter at the back than the front. [illustration: fig. .--the cap.] [illustration: fig. .--the fringe of hair partially sewed on.] cut another piece of cloth (fig. ), and sew in a fringe of the tan-colored cotton (fig. ); glue this on the doll to form the beard, and trim off the edges. paint the moustache on the face, making it the color of the hair. russians, as a rule, are blonds, having either red or lighter-colored hair. [illustration: fig. .--another piece of cloth.] [illustration: fig. .--the beard.] make the trousers loose and bind them to the doll below the knees. the russian leather boots which the natives wear always reach up over the trousers, and you can make such boots by painting the doll's feet black and sewing straight pieces of black material on the doll for boot-legs, allowing the cloth to be long enough to wrinkle around the ankle. try to make the boots appear as if laced up the front, for many wear them so in russia. the blouse should be loose and belted in at the waist, hanging straight and square around the bottom. in case your doll has real hair, omit the wig and cut the real hair in russian style. these people never use their immense stove for heating a teakettle, though they drink tea upon all occasions. to make tea they resort to a samovar, which is a curious brass or copper vessel, shaped something like an urn. when the tea is ready, it is poured into tall glasses, a slice of lemon is put in each glass, and the tea drunk scalding hot. the beverage is called _chai_, and the russians enjoy it so much that they often take twenty glasses in succession. when one desires sugar, it is not put in the tea, but held in one hand, and a portion bitten off from time to time between the swallows of tea. [illustration: fig. .--a little russian samovar.] if you will empty an egg-shell of its contents and get a sheet of white writing-paper, a small square box, a piece of yellow sealing-wax, some liquid gilt, and five gilt beads, four about the size of large peas, and the fifth a trifle larger, we can manufacture a little russian samovar like fig. . should you have no box, make one of pasteboard one inch square and half an inch high; if you cannot get the beads, use small, round buttons. the four beads or buttons are feet for the samovar. fasten one on each corner of the bottom of the box with sealing-wax, then glue the broken centre of the large end of the egg-shell on the middle of the top of the box. cut the handles from paper according to fig. , making each handle one inch and a half long and half an inch wide. run the half of one handle over the edge of a blade of the scissors; this will cause the paper to curl. turn the handle over and curl the other half in the opposite direction; bend the handle at the dotted line, one-quarter of an inch from the lower edge, and paste it on one side of the samovar, midway between top and bottom. make the other handle in the same way, and fasten it on the opposite side. [illustration: fig. . the handle.] [illustration: fig. .--the faucet.] [illustration: fig. .--the different parts of the samovar.] cut the faucet (fig. ) of paper one inch wide; roll the paper up from the bottom, bringing the handle on top; bend the handle straight up, and bend the spout down in front of the handle. glue the other end of the faucet to the front of the samovar with sealing-wax, placing it near the bottom, half-way between the two handles. make the top chimney of a roll of paper a generous inch in width. paste the loose edge of the paper down on the roll, and pierce a hole in the roll one-quarter inch from the bottom, making it large enough to admit the end of a match. glue a burned match in this hole, allowing the main part to extend out one-quarter of an inch from the chimney. fasten a small, round, flat button on the end, and attach a round paper disk three-quarters of an inch in diameter to the top of the chimney, crowning the disk with the large bead. fig. gives all the different parts of the samovar and shows as nearly as possible how they should be put together. when the samovar is finished, gild it all over, and you will have a unique little creation that would delight the heart of a russian. chapter xvi pottery without a potter's wheel almost every girl at one time in her life has loved dearly to make mud-pies, and it is not strange, for her mother, grandmother, and many, many times great-great-grandmother before her delighted in making mud-pies. the last, the primitive women of our race, made them to some purpose, for they were the inventors of pottery. the home-making, house-keeping instinct was strong even in these women, who had no houses to keep, and they did their best with the material at hand. first they wove rude baskets for holding and carrying food; then they learned that cooked food was better than uncooked and could be preserved much longer, so they made baskets of a closer weave and cooked in them by means of water heated by hot stones; finally, they tried cooking over the fire in shallow baskets lined with clay. the clay came out of the basket baked and hard, and behold, they had a new kind of vessel--fire-proof and water-proof. we may imagine with what joy they welcomed this addition to their meagre store of home-making utensils and with what patient industry they strove to improve upon this discovery. [illustration: making coiled pottery] they used their baskets as moulds to hold the soft clay, and they fashioned the clay without moulds into shapes suggested by natural objects. the sea-shells furnished inspiration and many vessels were made in their beautiful forms. the first potter was a woman, even as the first basket-maker was a woman, and, coming down to our own times, the important discovery of the production of exquisite colors and blending of colors in the rookwood pottery was made by a woman. discovered, developed, and still, in many cases, carried on by women, surely pottery is a woman's art, and as a girl inheriting the old instincts, you may find it the simplest and most natural means of expressing your individuality and love of the beautiful. beginning as these gentle savages began, using their primitive method, you may be inspired to study deeper into the art, and perhaps become the discoverer of some new process that will give to the world a still more beautiful pottery. even the smallest girls may do something in coiled pottery, for it is very simple and easy at first, growing more difficult only as one grows ambitious to attempt more intricate forms. the clay ready for use you will find at any pottery. if it is dry break into small pieces, put it in a large stone jar, and cover with cold water; let it stand until thoroughly soaked through and then stir with a stick until well mixed, and work with your hands--squeezing and kneading until free from lumps and perfectly smooth. when it is dry enough not to be muddy, and is of the consistency of dough, it is in good working condition. keep the clay always in the jar and closely covered that it may not again become too dry. besides the clay you will need a table to work on, a pastry-board, a thin block of wood about twelve inches square, a wet sponge for cleaning and moistening your fingers, and several simple tools. the table. if you stand at your work, a tall office stool with rotating seat will be just the thing you want, for by turning the seat this way and that you may look at your work from all sides without disturbing its position. any kind of ordinary table will answer the purpose, however. on top of the table or stool place your pastry-board, and at the right-hand side the sponge, which must be kept quite damp. [illustration: fig. .--a short, flat stick.] [illustration: fig. .--the tools. piece of round stick sharpened at each end.] you will want but few tools as most of the work is done by the fingers alone. a short, flat stick, sharpened on one side like the blade of a knife (fig. ), an old penknife, a piece of round stick sharpened at each end like fig. , and some emery-paper are all you will need at first. on the pastry-board place a large lump of clay, then take a handful of the clay and begin to make the roll by turning it lightly between your hands (fig. ). when the clay lengthens out lay it on the board, and roll under your hands, as perhaps you have done when making dough snakes. keep your clay snake of an even size its entire length, be careful not to flatten any part, and continue to roll it with a light touch until it is about the thickness of your little finger. place your square block on the stand before you, and in the centre begin to coil the clay (fig. ). when you have made a disk about two and one-half inches in diameter, lift the roll and build up the sides, coiling slowly round and round, pinching it slightly as you go, with the last row always resting on the one just beneath (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--turn it lightly between your hands.] [illustration: fig. .--begin to coil the clay.] unless you have made a very long roll, which is not easy to handle at first, you will soon have to stop coiling for lack of material. do not use all of the first roll, but allow the end to rest on the table, where it can be joined to the new roll you are to make. pinch the end of the new roll to that of the old and round the joint between your hands. [illustration: fig. .--lift the roll and build up the sides.] continue coiling until you have made a cup-shaped vessel three inches high, then break off the roll and flatten the end to meet the surface of the brim. moisten your fingers on the sponge, and smooth the inside of the cup, holding the walls in place with your left hand curved around the outside (fig. ). do not press too hard with either hand, but slide your fingers gently round and round over the inner surface. when the coils on the inside have become well flattened mix a little clay and water into a paste, and spread it on, filling any cracks that may still be left between the coils, constantly smoothing all the time. [illustration: fig. .--smooth the inside of the cup.] you will find that this process has, at first, the effect of broadening the base and lowering the sides of the cup, and until you have quite mastered the method you must allow for the broadening and flattening of your work. your cup, with a base of two and one-half inches and sides three inches in height, will now probably be a saucer measuring about four inches across the bottom, and not more than one inch and a half in height. it matters little, though, at this stage what shapes you turn out. do your best with each piece, and if the work flattens turn it into a pretty dish by pinching the edge to form a little lip, and adding a handle like fig. . [illustration: fig. .--turn it into a pretty dish.] as you are working without a wheel the symmetry of your pottery must depend entirely upon your eye and hand, therefore keep turning the block upon which it stands that no irregularity may be overlooked. when you add ornaments or handles see that the roll of clay from which you make them adheres closely to the vessel. add soft clay to the joints and smooth until the whole seems to be of one piece. [illustration: fig. .--the outside corrugated by the coil.] in your first attempts leave the outside of the pottery corrugated by the coils (fig. ); later work you may smooth, making a surface equal to that turned on a wheel. do not try to finish a piece in one day; it is much better to allow it to harden a little and become set, then make it as smooth as you can with your tools, levelling the edges and taking away extra thicknesses. if this cannot be done at one time, set the work away once more covered with a damp cloth and it will keep in good working condition for any length of time, but remember, the cloth must be kept damp, otherwise the clay will harden. when you have perfected your piece of pottery to your satisfaction put it away to dry, _not_ in the sun. several days later, after it has become quite hard, go over the surface again with knife and emery-paper, scraping and rubbing down until it is entirely smooth and free from flaws. the work will then be ready to take to the potter for firing. the color of clay changes in firing, and your little piece of pottery will probably come back to you almost the color of old ivory. one cannot be very positive about the color, however, for clays vary, and perhaps yours may be of a kind that will fire another color. the potter will glaze your work for you if you wish, or leave it in the bisque. nothing has been said about what shapes to make the pottery, for that will depend much upon your own taste and ability. rather low, flat, dish shapes are most easily handled and variations in the cup or flower-pot shape. after these may come the jars and vases. set a well-shaped piece of pottery before you as a model to copy, until you have ideas of your own to carry out, and learn to handle your clay before attempting too ambitious a subject. chapter xvii baby alligators and other things of clay the first chance you have go to florida; you will be charmed with all you see. go where the sky is bluest, where winter is changed to summer, where the wild mocking-bird, the kentucky cardinal, the scarlet tanager, the blue jay and a host of other birds are on most friendly terms with girls and boys. go where the wild squirrels live unmolested in the beautiful great live-oaks, whose branches are hung with long, soft gray moss which swings and sways with the slightest breeze. there you will find the home of many baby alligators, queer little things whose eyes are provided with three eyelids; one is transparent and slides across sidewise like a window-glass to keep the water out of the eyes when the little fellows want to see what is going on beneath the surface. a number of baby alligators in a dry, sunny spot, will delight in piling upon each other four and five deep. the young owner of twenty of these pets declares that on such occasions all the alligators sleep except one who, wide-awake, acts as sentinel. at the approach of anyone he will swing his long tail over all his companions to awaken them and warn them of the danger that may be near. fig. was modelled from a baby alligator who conducted himself in a most dignified and exemplary manner when placed flat down on a shingle lying on a table; but first he had to be held in position for a moment in order to recover from the excitement caused by being taken from his out-of-door home and brought into strange quarters. [illustration: fig. .--alligator modelled from life.] it is not difficult to model a baby alligator of clay. [illustration: fig. .--clay for modelling alligator.] [illustration: fig. .--clay rolled between the hands.] [illustration: fig. .--beginning the head.] [illustration: fig. .--extra pieces on for eyes and nose.] [illustration: fig. .--head almost in shape.] [illustration: fig. .--head finished.] all you need for the work is a lump of soft clay, a hat-pin, your fingers, and determination to succeed. take a piece of clay (fig. ) and roll it between your hands until it resembles fig. . push the two ends together, causing the roll to hump up slightly near the centre, lay it down on a board or any hard, flat surface, and with the fingers carefully pat, squeeze, and push it into the form of fig. . gently smooth out all roughness; then nip off little pieces of clay from the big lump for the nose and two eyes; stick them on as in fig. . again smooth the rough edges until the clay looks like fig. . with a little careful modelling you can make the head exactly like fig. . mark the eyes, mouth, and nose with the flat point of the pin. if portions of the head become too thick, take off some of the clay, and if at any time the head is worked down too thin fill in the hollow spots with clay. in modelling one can always pinch off pieces here and there when necessary; or add little bits, smooth it all down, and the places altered will never show the marks of the change. when the head is finished cover it with a wet cloth to keep the clay moist, and begin to make the body. [illustration: fig. .--clay for body of alligator.] [illustration: fig. .--body of alligator.] mould another piece of clay like fig. . run the ball of your thumb along the sides, making the body the form of fig. , broader and thicker through the centre than at the two ends. for the tail pull from the large lump a smaller amount of clay, roll it and model it like fig. , larger at one end than at the other. the last portion (fig. ), like the others, is flat on the bottom, and with the exception of a small triangle at the heavy end of the tail the two sides meet at the top, forming a sharp ridge which decreases in height as it tapers down to a point at the extreme end. as each part is finished keep it moist with a wet cloth, and when the four sections are made place them in a row (fig. ), then join them together, rounding all the edges slightly. fig. shows how to mark the back of the alligator. [illustration: fig. .--section of tail.] [illustration: fig. .--tail of alligator.] [illustration: fig. .--ready to be put together.] [illustration: fig. .--marking the back.] [illustration: fig. .--roll a small piece of clay.] live alligators, you know, are encased in a natural coat of armor formed of small plates or shields, and in the clay one must imitate the real. use the hat-pin for marking the lines on the head, and trace stripes sidewise across the entire length of the body in the manner shown by fig. from c to d, continuing the stripes down each side of the first section of the tail (fig. ). next run a line lengthwise through the entire centre. d to e (fig. ) shows how to begin, only you must commence the central lengthwise line at c. mark the plates on one side starting at c, as indicated from e to f (fig. ); then make them on the other side, which will cause a pointed scallop to stand out and up on both sides of the space from g to h (fig. ). on the last section the top ridge will be scalloped h to k (fig. ). the nostrils are distinctly marked by two round holes; make these with the point of the pin. cover the alligator over with a wet cloth while you model his legs. [illustration: fig. .--break off a part.] [illustration: fig. .--turn back the end.] [illustration: fig. .--add another piece.] [illustration: fig. .--press end of leg out flat.] roll a small piece of clay (fig. ), break off a part (fig. ) and turn back the broken end (fig. ). add another piece to it (fig. ), smooth the edges together, forming a bend like an elbow (fig. ), and press the end of the leg out flat (fig. ). roll five small pieces (fig. ) and fasten them on the flattened portion of the leg in the positions shown by fig. . the foot suggests a human hand, the toes taking the places of thumb and fingers. rub the toes into the foot and spread out the extended, flattened part of the leg, making it appear web-like between the toes (fig. ). the foot of the real animal has nails or claws on three of the toes (fig. ), but you need not attempt this detail. if the foot is correct in form and proportion you have made it well. fig. is given merely to show how the natural foot looks. [illustration: fig. .--ready to begin the foot.] [illustration: fig. .--modelling the foot.] [illustration: fig. .--fore-foot and leg of alligator.] [illustration: fig. .--fore-foot of alligator.] model two front and two hind legs and feet; see that the hind feet and legs are larger and differently formed from the front ones. the hind feet have only four toes (fig. ). the line a (fig. ) designates the place where the front legs should be joined to the body, and the line b (fig. ) shows where to fasten on the hind legs. that you may have a thorough understanding of the manner and direction in which the joints of the legs bend, we will suppose that you rest on the floor on your knees and elbows. you will then find that your knees bend forward and your elbows backward, with your arms corresponding to the front legs and your legs to the hind legs. now, when you draw or model hereafter, you will not make any mistake in regard to it. look again at fig. . the foot, v, corresponds to or rudely resembles your hand; t, your wrist; p, your elbow; o, your shoulder. examine fig. . on the hind leg are the foot, ankle, knee and hip joint. while the alligator is in a plastic state make him open his mouth, by cutting a slit in the head from the front along the waved line up back beyond the eye; carefully pull apart the jaws (fig. ). have your alligator measure at least fourteen inches from tip to tip, for it will be more difficult to model a smaller one. once having made the little creature, you will find it easy to model similar animals; select something else in the same line and try to make it. [illustration: fig. .--alligator's hind-foot.] [illustration: fig. .--cut open the mouth.] most fruits are readily reproduced in clay. the banana is very simple to copy. roll a piece of clay, making the ends bluntly pointed; bend it slightly as in fig. and, paying strict attention to proportion, carefully form the work like the original, adding, taking from, smoothing and flattening as may be required (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--clay ready for modelling banana.] [illustration: fig. .--banana modelled in clay.] the "father of his country" always commands admiration, and everything pertaining to him is interesting. [illustration: fig. .--egg-shaped clay for head.] a head of washington modelled with your own hands would have a double value. you could show the head to your friends and tell them how you made it, and should they wish to become amateur sculptors, you might help them with their work. make a thick cake of clay for the bust. on the back part of the top lay a small, round cake to form the neck, and push a stick down the centre of the neck through the bust to the board beneath, allowing a portion of the stick to extend up beyond the neck; then roll a piece of clay into the form of an egg for the head--three times the size of a hen's egg--and push it down on the stick (fig. ). the stick enters the head near the centre of one side, so do not push the clay egg on through one end. continue to push the head down until it meets the neck. the stick is necessary to give firmness and support to the work. model the head, neck, and bust until it looks like fig. . while modelling you must not neglect any part of the head; the work should go on at the sides and back as well as the front; every now and then turn the stand on which your work is placed that you may model other portions of the head. in sculpture it is essential that objects be made as they are; therein lies the difference between sculpture and painting; in painting and drawing objects are not made as they actually exist but as they appear. [illustration: fig. .--head blocked in.] [illustration: fig. .--modelling features.] [illustration: fig. .--george washington.] be sure to have the head of correct proportions before beginning the features; then take away a little of the clay where the nose joins the forehead and cut away more clay under the nose straight down to the chin, according to the dotted lines which appear in fig. . hollow out places for the eyes and indicate the mouth with a straight line. add more clay for the hair, forming it into a queue at the back. [illustration: fig. .--washington's profile. finished head.] [illustration: fig. .--back of washington's head.] be careful to study well the character of washington's face before going on with the work. notice that it is strong, the chin firm and square, the lips tightly closed and the mouth almost a straight line, the nose not perfectly straight but inclined to be aquiline, the eyes rather heavy-lidded; and the hair, following the line of the head on the top, is puffed out on the sides, covering both ears. fig. gives the front view, fig. the profile, and fig. the back view of the head. make the neck full and large. you can keep the clay moist with a wet cloth and work on the head a little each day. persevere until you make so good a likeness of george washington that it will be recognized at a glance, and ever afterward you will enjoy and appreciate much more all portraits of him. chapter xviii funny little apple toys such a funny little porcupine! see how his pointed spears bristle out in every direction, forming a fine coat of mail (fig. ). if he was only alive, he could coil himself up into a prickly ball--not a ball, though, that one could handle without being hurt. this little fellows differs from the _hystrix cristata_, or real porcupine, in that he did not wait until his quills grew to turn into a ball, but was a ball to begin with, for he commenced life as an apple, and an apple is one of the nicest kinds of balls, as it may be tossed back and forth and then eaten later. [illustration: fig. .--bent toothpick.] [illustration: fig. .--the apple porcupine.] if you can find an apple with a bump on one side, you may make a porcupine in less than five minutes, for all that is necessary is to stick the apple full of wooden toothpicks, and that work will be as easy as putting pins into a cushion. let the bump on the apple form the head of the animal. bend four toothpicks like fig. and push them up into the apple to serve as legs and feet. make the bent toothpicks balance the apple perfectly, so that the porcupine will stand firmly on its feet without other support. use black pins for eyes and broom straws for the whiskers. stick them into the head of the animal as shown in fig. . begin at the extreme back of the porcupine to insert the wooden toothpicks that are to serve as quills; although they are not hollow it makes very little difference, as this wee creature cannot shake them, causing the quills to knock against each other, as does the real animal when he wants to produce a rustling sound to warn off an enemy. continue pushing in the toothpicks until the apple resembles fig. . keep the quills inclined backward and be careful not to have them stand out too far; slant the quills as much as possible, as the length of the porcupine must appear greater than the breadth. now, if you could endow the animal with life, you would find that he was a vegetarian; that is, he could not eat meat, and you would be obliged to feed him on fruit, roots, and certain kinds of bark. you may be glad, though, that this porcupine is only a "make-believe one," for, if he lived, he would sleep all day and want to run about and take his exercise during the night; and, more than that, you would feel very sorry for the poor little fellow, because he would be extremely lonesome so far away from his native land of india, africa, or some part of southern europe. so of the two, all things considered, the apple porcupine makes a better pet for the small members of the household. [illustration: fig. .--shape of eye.] [illustration: fig. .--apple seed in centre of eye.] [illustration: fig. .--the nose.] [illustration: fig. .--sally's open mouth.] [illustration: fig. .--strip of paper rolled up tight.] [illustration: fig. .--sally walker's head.] a round, delicately pink-tinted apple is best for little sally walker's head (fig. ). with the small blade of a pocket-knife cut the eyes near the centre of the apple, placing them far apart to give an innocent expression to the face (fig. ). cut the lower line of the eyes straight and the upper curved, as in fig. ; then push the small, pointed end of an apple-seed in the centre of each eye; run the seed in so far that only a small portion of the blunt end stands out (fig. ). cut away a small, half-moon-shaped piece of the skin (fig. ) to indicate the nose. the mouth must be open and made the shape of fig. . cut it into the apple a trifle more than an eighth of an inch in depth. make the curls of two narrow strips of paper rolled up tight like fig. ; then pulled out as in fig. . pin one curl on each side of the head (fig. ). cut a round piece of white paper for sally's collar. make a small hole in its centre and slip the collar on the end of a stick; then push the stick well up into the lower part of the head (fig. ). keep the collar in place by two pins stuck through it into the apple. [illustration: fig. .--sally's curl.] [illustration: fig. .--the apple indian.] [illustration: fig. .--indian's nose.] [illustration: fig. .--paper feather for apple indian.] [illustration: fig. .--the apple jap.] the indian is very different in coloring and expression from sally (fig. ). notice how near together his eyes are; and see how long and narrow his nose is. if you examine the face of the next red man you see, or the picture of one, you will probably find that he has two deep, decided lines from his nose to his mouth, and that the mouth itself is firm and straight. remember these hints when making the indian's head. select a dark-red apple, one that is rather long and narrow, if possible, for the red man seldom has a round face. cut two eyes of white paper and pin them on the apple with black-headed pins pierced through the centre of each eye. make the long nose of paper (fig. ). cut two slits close together on the face and slide the sides of the nose (aa, fig. ) into the slits (fig. ). cut two more slits, one on each side of the nose, down to the corners of the mouth, and insert in each a piece of narrow white paper to form the lines; then cut one more slit for the mouth and push in a strip of white paper, which may be bent down to show a wider portion (fig. ). last, but not least, come the ornamental feathers. if you can obtain natural ones so much the better; if not, make paper feathers of bright, differently colored paper. fig. shows how to cut them. roll the bottom portion to make a stiff stem and after punching holes in the top of the apple, forming them in a row around the crown of the head, push each feather in place, having the tallest in the centre, as in fig. . run a slender stick up into the bottom of the head and you will have something better than taffy-on-a-stick. [illustration: fig. .--apple jap's eye.] [illustration: fig. .--for apple jap's hair.] [illustration: fig. .--apple jap's hair.] [illustration: fig. .--stick frame for apple jap.] the jap's (fig. ) features are formed very differently from those of either sally or the indian. his eyes are shaped like narrow almonds, rather bluntly rounded at the inner corners and pointed at the outer corners. cut the eyes like fig. of black paper and stick them on the head with white-headed pins driven through the centre of each. let the eyes slant up at the outer corners, for that is the way real japanese eyes grow. they never have eyes like sally's. [illustration: fig. .--foundation of apple tower.] [illustration: fig. .--second floor of apple tower.] [illustration: fig. .--ready for third floor.] [illustration: fig. .--apple tower.] make the nose crescent-shaped, and pin it on with two white pins. the mouth must be much larger than the nose, though cut in similar shape. hold the mouth in position by running a row of white pins through it into the head. the pins will also form the jap's teeth. cut the hair of black paper (fig. ); if you have no black paper, make some with ink. fringe the hair as in fig. ; then fasten the circle of stiff black hair on top of the head with black pins. use a russet apple or a yellow one for the jap, because, you know, these people do not have red cheeks or fair skins. when the head is finished, push it down on the top of a stick across which has been fastened another shorter stick near the top (fig. ). make a simple kimono-like gown of paper and hang it on over the jap's arms. if you wish, you can paste the edges or seams of the garment together (fig. ). find a firm, sound, round apple, and we can build a tower (fig. ). cut the fruit into rather thick slices, select the middle slice, that being the largest, and stick four toothpicks into it (fig. ). take the slice next in size and push it down tight on top of the four toothpicks (fig. ). stick four more toothpicks into the second slice (fig. ), placing the toothpicks in the spaces on the second slice between the lower first four toothpicks (fig. ). on the tops of the last toothpicks fasten another slice of apple, then stick in more toothpicks and so on, always remembering to place the top toothpicks in the spaces on the apple slice left between the lower toothpicks. build up the tower at least seven slices high and do the work carefully, keeping the toothpicks straight and even, that the apple tower may stand erect and not resemble the famous leaning tower of pisa; for if your building should incline to one side, as does the pisa tower, it would not long retain that position, but the entire structure would come tumbling down, obliging you to try building again with another apple. a fine dutch windmill can be made of one apple and a paper pin-wheel, and there are lots of other interesting things you may manufacture from the same fruit. chapter xix marvel pictures here are mary, mary's lamb, and mother goose's goose all waiting for you to dress them and make them into marvel pictures. mary must be attired in her clothes, the lamb in his wool, and mother goose's goose in its feathers, and you can do it every bit yourself. then when all are nicely finished you can tack them up in your room for everyone to admire and wonder over. we will begin with mary, because a little girl is vastly more important than a lamb or a goose, however much the others may be petted and loved. [illustration: mary.] take a smooth piece of white tissue-paper, lay it over the drawing of mary given here, and with a moderately soft pencil make a careful tracing of the little figure. turn the paper the other side up and go over the lines again with a very soft pencil; then lay the paper right side up on a piece of white cardboard, a little larger than the page of this book. see that the figure is exactly in the middle and again go over the lines with your pencil. remove the tissue-paper and strengthen the lines of your drawing with your hardest pencil. if you have a box of water-color paints, tint mary's face, her neck and arms flesh-pink. redden her cheeks a little, and paint her lips a darker red. make her eyes blue and her hair a light brown and she will be quite ready for her dress. fig. is the pattern, which you must make by tracing it on tissue-paper and then cutting it out. choose any material you like--wool, cotton, or silk, for her dress and any color, only let it be quite smooth. lay the tissue-paper pattern down on the goods, pin it in place and cut around close to the edges. try the dress on mary to see that it fits perfectly; then cover the wrong side thinly with paste, adjust it to the little figure and press down firmly, smoothing out any wrinkles that may appear. cut a white lawn apron like the pattern (fig. ), and paste it over the dress bringing the upper edge up to the waist line. [illustration: fig. .--mary's dress.] [illustration: fig. .--mary's apron.] [illustration: fig. .--the brim of sun-bonnet.] [illustration: fig. .--crown of sun-bonnet.] [illustration: fig. .--plait like this.] [illustration: fig. .--cut like this.] [illustration: fig. .--mary's sun-bonnet.] make a cunning little sun-bonnet of the white lawn also. fig. is the brim, fig. the crown of the bonnet. cut out fig. first and fold back the flap according to the dotted lines, then fig. , which you must plait fan-shape like fig. , and then cut the shape of fig. . put a little paste along the lower edge of fig. , and over it lay the top edge of the brim (fig. ), pasting them together like fig. . fit the bonnet on mary's head and paste it in place, but leave the side-flaps to stand out loosely from her face. mary's lamb can be traced and then drawn on cardboard in exactly the same manner as mary, or it may be drawn on white writing-paper, cut out carefully and pasted on black or colored cardboard. this last is perhaps the better plan as the white lamb will show more plainly on a colored background. [illustration: fig. .--pattern of lamb's coat.] fig. is the pattern for master lamb's coat, which you are to cut from a sheet of white cotton wadding, opened through the centre to give the wooliness of the raw cotton. a sheep's wool does not grow long on its legs, so you need not wonder that the lamb is not provided with leggings. [illustration: fig. .--lamb's cap.] [illustration: fig. .--lamb's cap.] paste the coat on the lamb's back and the little cap (fig. ) on top of his head and he will have all the clothing to which he is entitled. the dotted line below the lamb's ear shows how far the wool is to reach on his face, and that on the top of his head gives the limit for the edge of the cap. [illustration: mary's lamb.] when you have traced mother goose's goose and transferred it to a sheet of cardboard, you must collect a number of small feathers as much as possible like the shapes given in the page of diagrams. perhaps you can get those plucked from the chicken for to-day's dinner, or you may be allowed to take a few from mother's feather pillows or cushions. if you do not find feathers of just the right shapes take a pair of sharp scissors and trim them down to suit. [illustration: fig. .--tail feather.] [illustration: fig. .--how to paste on the tail feathers.] [illustration: fig. .--body feather.] [illustration: fig. .--wing feather.] [illustration: fig. .--how to paste on the body feathers.] [illustration: fig. .--wing feather.] [illustration: fig. .--neck and breast feather.] [illustration: fig. .--how to paste on the wing feathers.] [illustration: caption of figures - : how to put the feathers on mother goose's goose.] [illustration: mother goose's goose.] select three feathers for the tail like the tail feather fig. , and fit them in place on the goose to see just where they are to go; then take them off, cover the tail with glue and carefully put the feathers back in place, pressing them down until they stick fast (fig. ). find body feathers like fig. and, beginning near the tail, cover part of the body with glue, then stick the feathers on, overlapping them as in fig. . the under part of the body must be entirely covered with these feathers, but before going on to the breast and neck the wing must be attended to. [illustration: fig. .] there are two kinds of wing feathers--some long and narrow (fig. ), and others much shorter (fig. ). begin at the lower edge of the wing and glue a row of the long feathers in place, allowing the lower edge of one feather to overlap the upper edge of another, as in fig. . along the top edge of the wing glue a row of the small feathers (fig. ), and then, beginning again at the lower edge of the wing, cover the remainder with the small feathers. the short, broad feather (fig. ), is the kind to use on breast and neck. begin at the wing and fasten them on, going upward until the head is reached, then trim off the stems of the feathers to fit the space shown by the dotted line on the goose's head (fig. ). do not put too much glue on the goose at one time, only enough for one row of feathers, and spread it very thinly, for it takes but little to catch and hold the light feathers in place. part ii recreation [illustration: lifting for pasch eggs.] chapter xx egg games for the easter holidays lifting for pasch eggs "lifting" was one of the many curious and interesting easter customs of the "good old days" in merry england, and we introduce it here in the form of a very jolly easter game. first you must prepare the pasch, or easter eggs in this way: select three large white eggs, make a minute hole in the small end of each, and another hole the size of a silver dime in the large end. place the hole at the small end of each shell to your lips and blow steadily until all the egg has run out. then set the shells in a warm place to dry while you make ready "something bitter and something sweet" with which to fill them. soft, creamy candies of a small size are the best for this. select several pieces for each egg, and pour on each of these one drop of a weak solution of wormwood or quinine. mix the bitter candy with the sweet, and fill the egg-shells. cut from gilt or colored paper three scalloped disks four inches in diameter (fig. ). through the centre of each disk pass a needle threaded with doubled black linen thread, cover the under side of the disk with paste, separate the two ends of the thread and hold them down on each side of the large end of a shell, as shown in fig. ; then draw the disk down and paste it upon the shell over the threads. if the ends of the thread extend below the disk, clip them off with sharp scissors. wait until the paste is quite dry and the paper firmly attached to the shells, then hang the eggs by their threads in a door-way so that they will be just one foot higher than you can reach. [illustration: fig. .--cut three scalloped disks like this.] the game there must be at least two girls and two boys to play the game. fold a shawl or wide scarf until it forms a narrow band. wrap it around the waist of one of the girls, fasten it securely, and blindfold her with a handkerchief. let a boy stand on either side of her, grasp the band firmly, and then march her up to the door-way where the eggs are suspended, chanting these words: "tid, mid and mi-se-ra, carling, palm, and pasch-egg day. lift you now off your feet, take your bitter with your sweet." reaching the door-way they must halt just before it, and when the girl says "ready" she must jump, the boys at the same time lifting her by the band around her waist. as she jumps she must try to catch one of the eggs. she can have but one trial, and if she succeeds in bringing down an egg it is hers; failing, she must wait until her turn comes again for the chance of securing a prize. one of the boys must have the next trial, while the two girls become the "lifters." the same ceremony must be gone through with for each player, a girl and a boy alternately, and the same verse repeated. [illustration: fig. .--paste the disk on the shell.] it is not necessary to expend any strength in the "lifting," for the players should jump, and not depend upon the helpers to be lifted up within reach of the eggs. when the eggs have been pulled down, the fun consists in eating the candy, with always the certainty of finding some bitter drops among the sweet, and the uncertainty of how soon and how often the bitter will be found. the egg dance the egg dance is very old, so old that it is a novelty to young people of this generation. it is said that this dance formerly created much mirth, and no doubt it will afford our modern girls and boys an equal amount of merriment. the eggs to prepare for it, take thirteen eggs, blow the contents from the shells, color eight red, gild four, and leave one white. the object in removing the egg from the shell is to save the carpet from being soiled should the eggs be trampled on. if the carpet is protected by a linen cover hard-boiled eggs may be used. place the eggs on the floor in two circles, one within the other. the outer circle, formed of the red eggs placed at equal distances apart, should measure about eight feet in diameter; the inner circle, formed of the gilded eggs, should be four feet in diameter, and the white egg must be placed directly in the centre of the inner circle. the dance the eggs being arranged the company is divided into couples, each in turn to try the dance. the first couple takes position within the outer circle--that is, between the red eggs and the gilded ones--and, to waltz music, they dance around the circle three times, keeping within the space between the two circles. entering the inner circle they waltz three times around the central egg, and all this must be done without breaking or greatly disturbing any of the eggs. when an egg is broken or knocked more than twelve inches from its position, the dancers retire and give place to the next couple. the broken eggs are not replaced, but those out of position are set in order before the succeeding couple commence the dance. when each couple has had a turn and none have accomplished the feat, all change partners and the trial begins again. the first couple to go through the mazes of the dance without breaking or disturbing any of the eggs win each a first prize; the next successful couple receive second prizes, and the third are rewarded with one colored hard-boiled egg which they may divide between them. [illustration: angling for easter eggs.] easter angling the appliances for this game are manufactured at home, and consist of three toy hoops, such as children use for rolling, eight bamboo walking-canes, and eight hooks made of wire like fig. . a piece of twine three-quarters of a yard long is tied to the small end of each stick, and to the other end of the twine is fastened a hook. [illustration: fig. .--eight hooks made of wire.] smooth, stiff, light-brown paper is pasted or tacked over each hoop like a drum-head, and in this paper covering of each hoop six round holes are cut, just large enough to admit the small end of an egg, or about the size of a silver quarter of a dollar. four of the holes are made at equal distances apart, twelve inches from the edge of the paper, and the other two are near the centre (fig. ). eighteen eggs to be angled for are provided. they are not boiled, but the shells are emptied and prepared for decoration in the manner previously described. [illustration: fig. .--cut six holes in the paper like these.] they may be painted with water-colors, with designs of spring flowers and butterflies, gilded or silvered, or colored with dyes. a circle of gilt paper is folded twice, which forms fig. , and an eight-pointed star is cut by following the dotted lines in fig. . in the centre of this is cut a round hole, and when opened, the star (fig. ) is the result. [illustration: fig. .--cut the star by following dotted lines.] [illustration: fig. .--the gilt star.] a piece of narrow white satin ribbon, three inches long, is folded and pushed through the hole in the centre of the star, forming a loop; the ends are then pasted to the point on either side of the star. when the egg-shell has received its decoration, this star and loop are glued to the large end of each shell, as shown in fig. . in twelve of the egg-shells are hidden trifling gifts of candy, a tiny penknife, silver thimble, or a trinket of any kind; in four are slips of paper on which are written "prize ring," and in the other two are also slips of paper; on one is written "first prize," and on the other "second prize." every shell being supplied with its gift the holes at the small end of the egg are covered by pasting over each a small round of white paper, the edge of which is cut in points to make it fit more easily to the shell. rules of the game. st. eight players only can take part in the game. d. the three hoops are placed on the floor, paper side up, at some distance apart. in each of the two ordinary rings are placed six eggs standing upright in the holes, small end down; four eggs contain presents and two the papers bearing the words "prize ring." in the third, or prize ring, are four eggs containing presents, and the two which hold the papers with the words "first prize" and "second prize." [illustration: fig. .--glue the star and loop to the shell.] d. there must be no distinguishing mark upon any of the prize eggs. th. four players stand around each of the ordinary rings. having once chosen their places they must keep them until all the eggs have been taken from the ring. th. every player is provided with a fishing-rod which is held by one end, _not_ in the middle. th. the endeavor of each player is to insert his hook through the ribbon loop on one of the eggs and lift it out of the ring, doing this as quickly as possible and catching as many as he can. as each egg is taken from the ring its contents are examined and the player who first gets a prize-ring egg ceases angling until the other prize-ring egg has been caught. th. when the eggs have all been taken out of both ordinary rings, the two players in each ring who have the prize-ring eggs move to the prize ring and angle for the eggs which it contains. th. two prizes, the first and second, fall to the lot of the two players who are fortunate enough to secure the prize eggs in the prize ring. the prizes given for the prize eggs at the prize ring should be of a little more importance than those contained in the eggs. instead of trinkets these eggs may contain only candy, which will give more prominence to the two real prizes given at the end of the game. table egg-rolling. everyone knows about the egg-rolling where the eggs are started at the top of a hill and rolled to the bottom, for it has become almost a national game, being played annually on the white house grounds in washington on easter monday; but there is a new game of egg-rolling to be played in the house, in which any person in any place may take part. this is played, not with cooked eggs, as in the washington game, but with empty egg-shells, which have been blown and left as nearly perfect as possible; and the field for the game is a table with a chalked line across either end about eight inches from the edge and another line directly across the centre. the players are divided into two equal forces which take their places at opposite ends of the table. each player is provided with a fan and the egg-shell is placed directly in the centre of the table on the dividing line. at the word "ready" all begin to fan, the object of each side being to send the egg to its goal across the line at the opposite end of the table, and to prevent its being rolled into the goal at its own end. on no account must the egg be touched except in placing and replacing it on the centre line, which is done whenever a score is made, and when the egg rolls off the table; in all other cases it may be moved only by fanning. each time the egg enters a goal it counts one for the side at the opposite end of the table, and when the score is marked the egg must be replaced in the centre; then, at the given signal, the fanning is renewed. the winning score may be ten, fifteen, or twenty-five, but it is best not to make it too large, for several short games are more enjoyable than one long one. chapter xxi may day amusements mingling with the festivities of may day in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were certain games intended to represent the adventures of robin hood, that bold forest chieftain who with his band of merry men, all clad in lincoln green, held many a contest with bow and arrows; and though most of them were masters of the sport, none could quite equal the leader, robin hood. from certain customs of these bygone days we can evolve a delightful entertainment and call it the twentieth century may day. the most important personage on this occasion is the may queen, who must win her crown by skill in archery. the next in importance is the king who wins his title in the same way. of course, bows and arrows will be needed for the sport, and these we will make at home. they will be quite small and easy to manufacture, but the bows, though tiny, will work to a charm and send the home-made arrows flying with swiftness and precision to their goal. look up a piece of flat rattan, from which to form the bow, such as is often used to stiffen stays and dress waists; cut it eleven and one-half inches in length and burn a hole in each end by boring through the rattan with a hair-pin heated red hot at one end (fig. ). holes made in this way will not split or break the rattan. pass a strong linen thread through the hole in one end of the bow and tie it firmly (fig. ); then bring the thread across to the other end, pass it through the hole, leaving a stretch of eight and one-quarter inches from end to end of the bow, and tie the end securely (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the bow of rattan.] [illustration: fig. .--fastening on the bow-string.] make the arrows of slender sticks ten inches in length and sharpened to a point at the heavier end (fig. ). whittle the arrows as round as possible. if you happen to have old, slender, long-handled paint brushes, they will make fine arrows with the brush taken off and the large end pointed. [illustration: fig. .--bow strung ready for arrow.] [illustration: fig. .--arrow of paint brush handle.] [illustration: fig. .--paper cover for target.] [illustration: fig. .--cowslip for target.] the target may also be home-made; for this use a small hoop--a barrel hoop will do--and cover it with paper. take any kind of paper strong enough to hold, but not too stiff, and cut it three or four inches larger in circumference than the hoop. lay the hoop down flat on the paper and draw a line around its edge; then slash the paper around the edge, cutting deep enough to almost reach the circle marked by the hoop (fig. ). cut silhouettes of spring flowers from various bright-colored tissue-paper. lay a piece of tissue-paper over each flower pattern here given, and trace the outline directly on the tissue-paper. make a cowslip (fig. ) of yellow paper for the centre of the target, and above it place (fig. ) a violet of violet tissue-paper, and under the centre fasten a jack-in-the-pulpit of green tissue-paper (fig. ); at the right attach a pink azalia (fig. ) and at the left a scarlet tulip (fig. ). over the remaining blank portion scatter bright silhouettes of other flowers. each wild blossom has its own value: the yellow centre cowslip counts ; violet, ; jack-in-the-pulpit, ; pink azalia, ; scarlet tulip, , etc. when the paper flowers are ready, lay the large target paper on a perfectly flat, hard surface; then, using paste only around the edges of the flowers, fasten each one in position on the target paper, beginning with the central cowslip. when finished turn the paper over on the wrong side and lay the hoop on it over the circular line previously drawn. the hoop must first have a strong staple driven in its top (fig. ). turn up the slashed edge of the paper and paste it down over the hoop. fig. shows a portion of the flaps glued over it. be sure when covering the hoop to keep the paper perfectly smooth and free from all wrinkles or fulness, as shown in the target (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--violet for target.] [illustration: fig. .--jack-in-the-pulpit for target.] [illustration: fig. .--azalia for target.] [illustration: fig. .--tulip for target.] [illustration: fig. .--staple in hoop.] [illustration: may queen and king and loyal subjects.] select a good position on a tree or fence. drive in a nail at the proper height and hang the target by the staple in its rim; then with a stick or stone mark a line on the ground about three yards from and directly in front of the target. let each player in turn stand with toes touching the mark and shoot one arrow at the target. someone must keep tally, and as each arrow strikes or misses make a record of the shot. when all have had one trial the second round may be played; then the third, which finishes the game of archery and decides the relative places of all the company. [illustration: fig. .--portion of flaps glued over hoop.] [illustration: fig. .--target with silhouettes of flowers.] the girl and boy with highest records are queen and king, the next highest maids-of-honor and gentlemen-of-the-court; the others fall in line according to their records on the target, and the entire party strikes out for the nearest stretch of land where wild flowers are to be found. out from the shade they go into the sunshine, where the new springing grass is tender and green, and a little beyond under the trees where a mysterious perfume, the breath of awakening nature, pervades the air, where grow the modest blue-eyed violets, the fragrant trailing arbutus, spicy and sweet, the funny jack-in-the-pulpit, without which no collection of wild flowers would be complete, and where also may be found the rare and beautiful bloodroot, whose stay is so short one can scarce catch a glimpse of its pure, white blossoms ere they vanish. the queen rules, and the king shares her honors. all the subjects must yield implicit obedience; but, on the other hand, the queen should issue only unselfish and kind commands, such as are sure to render her people happy, for the thought of their comfort and pleasure should ever be uppermost. [illustration: fig. .--take the flowers up roots and all.] the delicate little blossoms of early spring need very careful handling, and it would be well for the king and his gentlemen to be provided with old kitchen knives or trowels, that they may be able to dig around and under the little plants in order to take the flowers up root and all, with the earth clinging to them (fig. ); each one can then be carefully placed upright in a flat-bottomed basket or box and carried home in safety. better still would be a number of tiny water-proof paper flower-pots, which may be purchased per dozen for a trifling sum. in each pot place one plant with plenty of damp earth surrounding it, and upon reaching home tie a gay narrow ribbon through holes pierced on each side; the little receptacle will then make a charming may-basket, and the wild flowers will keep fresh and blooming for a long time (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--water-proof paper flower-pot may-basket.] while the king and his men are at work digging up the plants the queen and her ladies can gather the buds and blossoms, picking them with as long stems as possible and remembering to have a few green leaves of each plant with its blossoms. to keep the flowers from wilting, as they would if held in the hand, let each girl be provided with a clean, perfectly dry baking-powder can which has a lid that fits tightly; the blossoms must be without moisture and very carefully placed within the can as soon as they are plucked. when the tin box is filled the cover can be fitted on securely to exclude all the air. the green leaves may be carried in the hand, and when they droop they can be revived by being placed in fresh water. the bit of wildwood brought home in the form of dainty cut flowers could be put in water until dark, when the little may-baskets are ready for their reception. these baskets should always be small and must never be crowded with flowers; it is better to have only one variety of blossom with its foliage for each basket. [illustration: fig. .--beginning wire may-basket.] [illustration: fig. .--basket ready for handle.] manufacture the may-baskets of paper boxes, colored straws, wire, and cardboard. those of wire can be made to resemble coral and are pretty when shaped like that shown at fig. . make a ring of wire about the size of the top of a very large teacup by twisting the two ends of the wire together, then pull it into an oblong shape curved downward at the two ends. form another smaller ring, connect the two by a length of wire fastened on one end (fig. ); twist the wire on the bottom loop and bring it across the bottom and up on the other side end (fig. ). proceed the same way with the broad sides, extending the wire up and across the top to form the handle (fig. ); if more braces are needed, add them, and tie bits of string in knots of various sizes at intervals all over the basket frame to form projections for the branches of coral. [illustration: fig. .--wire basket to be turned into coral.] transform the wire into coral by melting some white wax and mixing with it powdered vermilion. while the wax is in a liquid state hang the basket on the end of a poker or stick and, holding it over the hot wax, carefully cover the frame with the red mixture by pouring the wax over the basket with a long-handled spoon. the wax cools rapidly and forms a coating closely resembling coral; the little lumps and projections that form give the basket the appearance of real coral, which is branching and uneven. [illustration: fig. .--coral may-basket.] as soon as the wax has hardened (fig. ) insert in the basket a pasteboard bottom cut to fit; and when filling this basket with flowers place the foliage around the sides first. the fresh green contrasting with the red coral gives a pretty effect, and the leaves filling the spaces between the wires prevent the flowers from falling through. the "old oaken, moss-covered bucket" is very appropriate for woodland blossoms. make the bucket of a strip of cardboard ten by four inches; sew the two ends together and cut a circular piece for the bottom; fit it in and fasten with long stitches. cut the handle of cardboard one-quarter of an inch wide and sew it in place. cover the bucket with strips of olive-green tissue-paper an inch and a half wide which have previously been crimped by being folded backward and forward. cut the strips in very fine fringe, unfold and gum them on the bucket in closely overlapping rows, as the cardboard must be entirely concealed to have the appearance of being covered with natural moss (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--old oaken bucket may-basket.] a may-basket which can be made in a moment is simply a bright-colored paper six inches long and three inches wide, with one of its long sides brought together at the two corners from the middle and fastened securely. a narrow ribbon forms the handle (fig. ). just at dusk the flowers may be arranged in the baskets with as little handling as possible. then, when twilight comes, the may day party can steal cautiously to the door of the house fortunate enough to be favored by a may-token, hang one of the little baskets of flowers on the door-knob, ring the bell and scamper away before they are seen, for no one of the party must be present when the door opens. [illustration: fig. .--colored paper may-basket.] bell and ball may-pole game for country or city if you live in the country erect your may pole on the lawn or in an open field; if in the city put it up in the back-yard, or if it rains or is cold hold your may day games in the house. in any case the pole should be planted in a tub as in fig. , and decorated as shown in the illustration. the pole must be round and smooth and stout enough to support the weight of the hoops at the top. for an out-of-doors pole from ten to twelve feet is a good height, but an indoor pole must be adapted to the height of the ceiling of the room it will occupy. before placing the pole in the tub nail securely to its base a piece of board eighteen inches square, as shown in fig. . erect the pole in the middle of the tub, put in cross-pieces (fig. ), nailing them at the ends and fill in all around with stones or bricks, as in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--the pole is planted in a tub.] [illustration: fig. .--fill in with stones.] [illustration: the first player throws the ball.] how to dress the may-pole cover the tub with green crimped tissue-paper and bank up with flowers--paper flowers if no others can be obtained. beginning at the top, wrap the pole with ribbon or strips of pink and white cambric in alternate stripes. this can best be done before the pole is erected. buy two toy hoops, the smallest measuring about three feet, the largest four feet in diameter. wrap these hoops with greens of some kind--evergreens if you can find no others--adding sprays of tree blossoms and all the flowers you can manage to get. [illustration: fig. .--on the end of each ribbon fasten a small bell.] besides the two large hoops you will need fourteen small ones about nine inches in diameter. these you can make of wire for yourself. wrap eight of the small hoops with pink, and six with white cambric, then decorate with flowers and green leaves. keep the decoration quite narrow, in order to leave as large an opening as possible in the centre. get two and two-thirds yards of narrow pink ribbon and two yards of narrow white ribbon; divide the pink into eight and the white into six pieces. on the end of each ribbon fasten a small toy bell; tie the ribbon on the small hoops, the white ones on the white hoops, the pink on the pink hoops, as shown in fig. . space the largest hoop off into eight equal parts and tie the small pink hoops to it at these points by their ribbons. divide the other hoops into six equal parts and attach the small white hoops in the same manner. with wire or ribbon suspend the hoops from the top of the pole as in the illustration. decorate the top of the pole with small flags and flowers. the balls make four paper balls in this way: take a piece of newspaper and, placing a small weight of some kind in the middle, crush it and roll it into a ball four inches in diameter; place the ball in the centre of a square of tissue-paper and bring the four corners of the paper together over the top; overlap the corners and fold and smooth down the fulness at the sides. wrap the ball with fine cord, making six melon-like divisions, as in fig. . make two of the balls of pink tissue-paper and two of white. have ready on a tray a number of small favors consisting of two or three flowers tied together, some with pink, some with white ribbon. [illustration: fig. .--wrap the ball with fine cord.] the decorations of the pole may be added to or curtailed as circumstances permit, and if flowers are scarce paper flowers may be mingled with the natural ones, and the difference will hardly be noticed. when the game is held in the house the room is cleared of as much furniture as possible. the prettily decorated may-pole stands in the middle of the floor, and the children join hands and dance around it to the accompaniment of the piano or an appropriate song sung by all. beginning with slow time, the music grows faster; faster and faster the wheel of children spins around the pole until some hand slips from the one clasping it and the wheel parts. when this happens the circle opens at the break and the children, still keeping their places, back up against the wall. to the first four children at the right end of the line the four paper balls are given, one to each. the first child, or number one, takes three steps forward and, aiming at the bell in one of the hoops, throws the ball with the purpose of sending it through the hoop and at the same time striking the bell hard enough to make it ring. if successful, number one is given a favor, to be pinned to the front of the coat or dress, as the case may be, the color of the ribbon attached to the favor being in accordance with the color of the hoop through which the ball passed. as it is more difficult to send the ball through the hoops in the second row, the white-ribboned favors confer the most honor. as soon as number one has played he or she gives the ball to number five and returns to his or her place; then number two takes a turn, giving his ball afterward to number six, and so on down the line, thus always keeping the children about to play supplied with balls. the game goes on until the players are tired or the favors give out, and the object of the players is to win as many favors as possible. chapter xxii hallowe'en revels on hallowe'en you will not be obliged to travel way off to shivery, cold klondike to dig for your fortune, because the fairies bring the gold nuggets nearer home; possibly you may have to work a little for the precious metal, but the exertion will be only fun. ten little fairies--your ten fingers--will cheerfully supply the gold as well as the mine from which the nuggets must come on the eventful night. the fairies should make a number of small gold parcels which when finished form the nuggets (fig. ). inside of each package is a piece of candy and a strip of paper with a fortune written upon it, so whatever may be the fate sent by the gnomes in the mine, it is sure to be sweet. have enough lumps of gold to furnish each player with equal portions of one or more nuggets. let the little fairies secure a tub, half-fill it with sand or saw-dust and hide the gold nuggets well in this home-made gold mine, scattering the little parcels through the sand like plums through a pudding. the fairies must stand a small shovel by the side of the mine, then all will be ready and the miners can dig for their fortunes (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the gold nugget.] [illustration: fig. .--hallowe'en miners at work.] each player in turn must take the shovel and dig in the mine until one gold nugget is found. he must then open the package carefully and read aloud the fortune fate has given him, while the other players look on and listen. the fairies can readily whittle or saw out a wooden mining shovel from a shingle or thin box-lid. tell them to make it about four inches long and three wide, with a handle eleven inches in length. try to think of original ideas to write on the slips of fortune paper, or, failing these, look up apt quotations for the prophecies. if you can have the lines bright and witty, writing something that will cause a laugh when read aloud, without hurting anyone's feelings, your hallowe'en mining will be a great success. [illustration: fig. .--stick for apple witch.] [illustration: fig. .--tissue-paper for making witch.] the apple witch understands well the art of fortune-telling. she is a funny little creature made of a stick (fig. ), some yellow tissue-paper and an apple. a strip of the tissue-paper is gathered (fig. ), drawn tight together at the top and placed over the stick with a thread wound around a short distance from the top to form the head (fig. ). the arms are pieces of tissue-paper (fig. ) folded lengthwise (fig. ) and run through a hole punched in the body (fig. ). the face is marked with ink on the head (fig. ). small strips of tissue-paper gathered like fig. are sewed on each arm to form the sleeves. hair of black thread or darning cotton tied in the centre (fig. ) is sewed on the yellow paper head. [illustration: fig. .--head formed for witch.] [illustration: fig. .--tissue-paper for witch arms.] [illustration: fig. .--paper folded for arms.] the witch's hat is a triangular piece of paper (fig. ) with edges pasted together and a circular piece of paper slightly slashed around the small hole in the centre (fig. ). the circular piece is slid down over the peak to form the brim (fig. ), glued on, and the entire hat is inked all over, dried and fitted on the little woman's head. a broom made of a strip of folded tissue-paper (fig. ) with a fringed piece of the same paper bound on for the broom part (fig. ) is sewed in the folded-over end of the witch's arm. when finished the point of the stick is pushed into an apple, and the apple placed upon a piece of paper divided into squares in which different fortunes are written (fig. ). when you want the witch to tell your fortune, spin the apple on the blank centre of the paper and wait until the witch is again quiet, and she will point with her broom to some spot where the fortune is written especially for you. each girl and boy must be allowed three trials with this apple witch (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--arms run through hole in body of witch.] [illustration: fig. .--sleeves for witch.] [illustration: fig. .--black hair for witch.] [illustration: fig. .--crown of witch hat.] [illustration: fig. .--brim of witch hat.] [illustration: fig. .--witch hat.] [illustration: fig. .--witch broom handle.] [illustration: fig. .--witch broom.] ghost writing is very mysterious and exciting. dip a new clean pen in pure lemon juice and with this queer ink write mottoes or charms on a number of pieces of writing-paper. allow the ink to become perfectly dry, when it will fade out completely; then place the charms in a box and let each girl and boy in turn draw what appears to be a blank slip of paper. after examining it, the paper should be handed to some grown person present who is in the secret and who has provided a lighted candle by means of which he may read the ghost writing. all the young people will cluster around and with bated breath watch the magical developing of the words on the blank paper as the reader moves the message back and forth over the lighted candle. the heat brings out the writing in distinct letters that all may see. a second charm must not be taken from the pile until the first has been read aloud. +------------+-------------+-----------+---------------+------------+---------------+---------------+ | you will | you will | you will | you will be | you will |you will always| you will | | pass your | be a | write a | a comfort to | learn to | be kind and | paint a | |examination.| favorite. | book. | your family. | sing well. | considerate. | picture. | +------------+-------------+-----------+---------------+------------+---------------+---------------+ | you will | you will | you will | you will have | you will | you will | you will | | go on a | have a | compose | beautiful | have a | go to | earn a | | journey. | horse. | music. | garden. |candy pull. | a fair. | fortune. | +------------+-------------+-----------+ _____ +------------+---------------+---------------+ | you will | you will | you will / \ you will be | you will | you will | | always be | meet new | go to a | | a champion | go to a | always be | | happy. | friends. | dance. \ / golf player.| circus. |bright & sunny.| +------------+-------------+-----------+ ----- +------------+---------------+---------------+ | you will | you will | you will | you will | you will | you will | you will | | live in a | be wise | be an | have lots | help | write | paddle | | castle. | when grown. | inventor. | of pets. | others. | poetry. | a canoe. | +------------+-------------+-----------+---------------+------------+---------------+---------------+ | you will | you will | you will |you will be the| you will | you will | you will | | be | live in a | visit the | best scholar | walk on | sail a | run a | | famous. |foreign land.|whitehouse.| in the class. | stilts. | boat. | race. | +------------+-------------+-----------+---------------+------------+---------------+---------------+ [illustration: fig. .--fortune chart.] if you have a four-leaved clover, even though it be a pressed one, you can put it in your shoe on the morning of october and wear it until you retire at night. the clover is a charm which will bring good luck and will insure at least one hearty laugh before the next day. [illustration: fig. .--apple witch.] a glimpse into the future showing the disposition of your sweetheart may be had by tasting apple-seeds which have previously been dampened and each dipped into a separate flavoring. the moisture will cause the spices, etc., to cling to the seed, giving various flavors. those dipped in liquids must, of course, be afterward dried. if to your lot falls a seed which has been powdered with pulverized cloves, your life companion will never be dull and uninteresting; pepper denotes quick temper; sugar, affection and kindness; cinnamon is lively, buoyant and bright; vinegar, sour and cross; gall, bitter and morose; molasses, loving but stupid; lemon, refreshing and interesting. add as many more flavors as you wish. when the seeds have been prepared and dried wrap each one in a small piece of white tissue-paper and pass them around to the young people, allowing each girl and boy to take two of the prophecies; then all the children must be quiet while each in turn tastes first one, then the other seed, telling aloud as he does so the particular flavor he has received. should a player find the first seed sweet and the other sour, it would mean that the disposition of the future wife or husband will vary, partaking more of the stronger flavoring. if the taste of the first apple seed is pleasant, the married life of the player will be reasonably happy. if the flavor is very agreeable, the married life will be very happy; if the flavor proves unpleasant, it is best to remain single. a very jolly time may be had with fortune bags. purchase or make a number of brown paper bags of medium size. in each place a simple little gift such as a tiny home-made doll, a paper toy you have manufactured or a picture of a young woman or man cut from a newspaper and pasted neatly on a half sheet of fresh writing-paper, drop a nut in the fifth bag and add other home-made gifts for other bags, and label each appropriately. pin a piece of paper on the doll with these words written on it, "dorothy's new doll" (if none of the girls happens to have that name use another in its place). under the young woman's picture write, "marie when she is grown," and under the young man's write, "this is malcolm when he is a man." change the names if they do not represent any of the party. after a gift has been dropped in, take the bags one at a time and blow them full of air, do not allow the air to escape while you wind a string around the openings and tie them securely. the bags, being puffed out with air, will appear much the same, rendering it impossible to tell, by merely looking at them, which contain the largest gifts. all the bags should be tied on a strong string, forming a fringe of bags stretched across the room. the young people should draw lots for first choice of the fortune bags, then each player in turn must point to the bag selected, no one being allowed to touch a bag until the leader has clipped it from the string. only one bag can be given out and opened at a time, in order that all may see and enjoy the contents of each separate fortune. all young people enjoy the fun of trying their fortunes. even when convalescent and not yet quite strong enough to join in the general frolic, they may, in a quiet way test many old-time and some new prophecies. the three saucers is one as in the illustration. the apple seeds charm commencing with "one i love" is another and for new ideas there is the feather test, witch writing, etc. [illustration: a convalescent witch.] chapter xxiii the magic cloth and what it will do in india there live wonderful men who can perform the most startling feats, such as making small plants grow up tall and large in a few moments, and who, by repeating certain magic words, cause water to mysteriously spring from the dry earth and fill a hollow, producing a tiny lake on which little boats can sail. of course, we do not understand how such things can be done, never having seen them; but there are certain amazing and astonishing feats that we do comprehend and which we can perform. our jumping frog is so lively and funny that even the most grave and serious person would smile to see the little animal actually move and suddenly leap up in the air. [illustration: fig. .--one for the money, two for the show,] [illustration: fig. .--three to make ready] make the frog jump with a soft lead-pencil trace the frog (fig. ) on tracing-paper; then transfer it to a very soft, pliable piece of _white cotton mull_ or any white cloth that will stretch readily when pulled, for stretch it must, or the frog will not jump. turn the square of cloth so that it will resemble the ace of diamonds in a pack of playing-cards, having one point up, one down, one at the right and one at the left hand. fasten the cloth over a piece of white paper on a smooth board or table with thumb-tacks or strong pins. very carefully place the tracing-paper, on which you have drawn the frog (fig. ), over the cloth, allowing the head to come under the top point of the square and the feet to extend toward the lower point. mr. frog may then be drawn exactly on the bias weave of the cloth. when you have finished the tracing, go over the lines again with a soft lead-pencil to make the markings clear and distinct. [illustration: fig. .--and four to go.] look at the frog to be sure he is correctly drawn; then remove the pins and, allowing the cloth to remain on the table over the piece of smooth white paper, spread both of your hands out on the cloth, one at each side of the frog, and, keeping your eyes on the drawing, move your hands gradually outward, at the same time moving the mull with them. the stretching of the bias material will cause the frog to flatten out until he crouches for a spring (fig. ). cautiously raise your hands up and off the cloth and place them down again in a different way; put one above and the other below his frogship, and, still keeping your eyes on the figure, suddenly move your hands, stretching the square up and down, when the frog will give a quick leap and spring straight upward in the most unexpected manner (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--"we are hungry."] cut the squares of material large enough to be easily handled; if made too small your hands will slip off the edges. feed the birds have you ever seen little young birds in their nest? how they huddle together with their large yellow mouths open wide watching for their mother to return with their dinner! trace the drawing (fig. ) on bias cloth and you can make these little birds move and really stretch up their heads for their dinner as you slowly pull the cloth upward and downward (fig. ). watch them. then stretch the cloth out sidewise and see the birdlings quietly settle down in their nests with a "thank you" and "good-by." (fig. ). [illustration: fig. --"here comes our dinner."] [illustration: fig. .--"thank you" and "good-by."] see the children talk trace the girl and boy (fig. ) on bias cloth as you did the frog. fig. shows how the children appear when they meet. pull the cloth sidewise and their faces change expression (fig. ); they do not seem to enjoy their chat. now pull the cloth in the opposite direction, and in an instant their faces show surprise and dismay (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--"i can beat you spelling."] [illustration: fig. .--"you can't, either." "i can, too."] [illustration: fig. .--"oh! oh! we are both at the foot of the class."] make the tenor sing [illustration: fig. .--d o.] i wonder if you ever attended a concert where the tenor had difficulty in reaching his high notes, where he fairly seemed to rise up on his toes in his efforts to attain the notes as his voice ran up the scale, and everyone in the audience sympathized to such an extent that they, too, felt like rising and stretching up their heads in search of the difficult note. such a tenor is shown at fig. . trace him on bias cloth and pull the cloth out sidewise (fig. ); then, beginning with the lower note, _do_, slowly sing the scale as you leisurely pull the cloth upward and downward at the same time. when you come to _sol_ the face should be like fig. , and as you continue singing and stretching the cloth, the tenor should resemble fig. when you reach your highest _do_. though not a very high note it is the best he can do, and he looks very comical while his face is changing, his eyes and mouth opening wider and wider and his hair rising up straight on the top of his head. [illustration: fig. .--s o l.] the objects which are here illustrated may be replaced by others with equally amusing results; any animals, such as goats, rabbits, camels, hounds, may be drawn on the cloth and then manipulated so as to afford the greatest amusement. [illustration: fig. .--d o.] you can have any amount of fun with the moving figures on your magic cloth if you will remember the important points, which we will repeat to be sure you understand. have the squares of cloth for all the drawings sufficiently large to be easily manipulated. draw the design clearly and distinctly. draw it on the exact bias of the cloth; move the two sides of the cloth at precisely the same time. move the cloth always with both hands spread out flat on top of the cloth. place the cloth over a large piece of white paper that the picture may be plainly seen. care should be taken to obtain soft cloth that will stretch readily. these diversions will afford fine sport for a quiet evening and will be enjoyed by the entire family. if painted the designs will be still more comical. chapter xxiv finger-plays for little folks now we must play in-doors, and if you will spread out your little hands and slide them together, back to back, with the palms outward, so that the longest finger of the left hand rests on the back of the right hand and the longest finger of the right hand lies on the back of the left hand, you will have a queer little teeter-tarter which will move when and how you wish. the two longest fingers form the teeter-tarter; half of the teeter is on one side and half on the opposite side of the fence. the fence is made by the other parts of the hands, which, crossing each other, fit snugly and tightly, leaving the teeter free to swing back and forth at will. fig. shows how your hands should be placed together: the long finger marked a is half of the teeter; the other half is on the opposite side. move the long fingers and watch the teeter go up and down, first one end then the other, just like a real teeter made of a board across a fence. if you bend back both of your wrists, the right wrist will drop while the left wrist will be raised above it. this will bring one edge of the fence or hands toward you, and looking down, you can see both ends of the little teeter. [illustration: fig. .--the queer little teeter.] you might cut out of writing-paper two small dolls and bend them so that they will sit on the teeter. the least bit of paste on the ball of the teeter finger of your left hand and some more on the nail of the teeter finger of your right hand will fix the paper children securely on the teeter, and you can make it go as fast as you please without danger of the dolls' falling off. fig. gives the pattern for the dolls; fig. shows how to bend them, and fig. gives a little paper girl seated on one end of the teeter. [illustration: fig. .--pattern of doll.] [illustration: fig. .--doll ready for teeter.] take the dollies off the teeter and let them rest for a while and watch you build a church. place your two hands back to back, with the ends of the fingers of the right loosely crossing those of the left hand; then, bring the palms of the hands together, fingers inside and thumbs outside and lo! [illustration: fig. .--doll on teeter.] [illustration: fig. .--"here is the church,"] [illustration: fig. .--"and here is the steeple,"] here is the church (fig. ). but it is without a steeple. build one by raising the two first fingers, without disturbing the remainder of the hands; bring the raised finger-tips together and, "here is the steeple" (fig. ). a church, like any other building, to be of use, must have people in it, and if we could only look inside this building we might find them; move your thumbs apart, or "open the doors and see all the people" (fig. ). there they are sitting in rows; don't you see them? now let the people go up-stairs. cross your two smallest fingers on the inside, which will bring the backs of the hands toward each other; keeping the little fingers together, cross the third fingers, next the second, then the first fingers. the fingers on the left hand form the stairs for the people or fingers of the right hand to climb. try it again, allowing the people to ascend slowly one by one: "here are the people climbing up-stairs" (fig. ). keep your hands loosely in the last position and raise your right elbow; while holding that up, twist your left hand around forward until the left thumb rests on the inside of the right hand. both hands will now be turned downward with the wrists uppermost. [illustration: fig. .--"open the door and see all the people."] [illustration: fig. .--"here are the people climbing up-stairs,"] leaving the hands in this position, turn your two elbows outward and down, which will bring your hands up; slide your right thumb outside and around your left thumb, the left thumb will then be the minister and, though you cannot see them, the fingers clasped inside the hands are the people, but you can see the thumb, preacher, standing up ready to talk to the people, and you may say, "here is the preacher who for them cares" (fig. ). if you want to form a bird's head of your hand, lift up the second finger of the left hand with your right hand, and cross the lifted finger well over the back of the first finger of the left hand. again, use your right hand to lift the third finger of the left hand and twist it over the second left-hand finger. the last finger is the little one of the left hand; lap this over the left third finger and you will have all the left-hand fingers crossed, one on top of the other. bring the top of the left thumb up to meet the tip of the second left-hand finger, which will finish the bird's head. the head does not greatly resemble that of a real bird, but we will pretend it does, for the fun of seeing who can build the head first. [illustration: fig. .--"here is the preacher who for them cares."] [illustration: fig. .--preparing for man chopping wood.] [illustration: fig. .--man chopping wood.] to make a man chopping wood, place the inside of the little finger of the right hand on the inside of the little finger of the left hand, and the inside of the third finger of the right hand over the inside of the third finger of the left hand; then bring the second and third fingers of the right hand up and over the inside of the palm of the left hand, as in fig. . rest the tip of the second finger of the right hand on the tip of the thumb of the left hand. the second finger is the stick of wood. strike the wood with the first finger of the left hand (c, fig. ); raising that, bring down the second finger of the left hand (b, fig. ). keep them moving, first one, then the other, and you will have "the man chopping wood" (fig. ). it is a pity to waste the chips which always fall when wood is being cut, so let two children, the thumb and first finger of the right hand, pick them up. do this by tapping the palm of the left hand with the thumb and first finger of the right hand, while the man cuts the wood. the four fingers working at the same time make it quite lively, but you will find that if the man chops fast, the children will pick the chips very quickly, and if the man works slowly the children will not hurry about gathering the chips. it will be very difficult for you to have the man chop slowly when the children are eager and quick at their task. the feat will be almost as hard as patting your chest with the left hand while you rub the right hand back and forth over the top of your little head. you will laugh to see the left hand rub, when you told it to pat; the poor little left hand tries to mind, but just as soon as its twin brother, the right hand, begins rubbing, the left hand has to stop patting and rub too. [illustration: fig. .--"here are my mother's knives and forks,"] lay your two hands down showing the palms; lace the fingers together and say, "here are my mother's knives and forks" (fig. ). of course, the fingers are the knives and forks. turn your hands over while the fingers remain in place, bring the wrists down and say, "here is my father's table" (fig. ). raise the two first fingers, bringing their tips together, and say, "here is my sister's looking-glass" (fig. ). then raise your two little fingers and, rocking the hands from side to side, say, "and here is the baby's cradle" (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--"here is my father's table,"] there is another little finger game, which we will call "the blackbirds." [illustration: fig. .--"here is my sister's looking-glass,"] [illustration: fig. .--"and here is the baby's cradle."] dampen two bits of paper and press one down tight on the nail of the first finger of your right hand and the other on the nail of the first finger of your left hand. the two pieces of paper are the two blackbirds. now hold your first fingers, on which the birds are resting, out stiff and double up the remaining fingers; then let your father see how well you have taught these little pet birds to mind, for they will do exactly as you say, going and coming at your command. place the tips of your two first fingers on a chair, which you must pretend is a hill, and raising first one finger to make the bird fly, then the other, keep the pets flying up and down while you repeat these lines: "two little blackbirds sitting on a hill; one named jack and the other named jill. fly away, jack!--" as you say the last line raise the right finger up and back over your right shoulder; while there, quickly bend down the right finger with jack on it and stiffen out the second finger in its place. bring your right hand down with jack hidden and put the empty second finger on the chair instead of the first. the bird will be gone and lonesome little jill will perch on the hill with no playmate, so you must let her go too. repeat these words, "fly away, jill," and make her disappear as you did jack, bringing down the empty second finger of your left hand and your father will find that both birds have gone; but you may make them return by saying, "come back, jack," as you raise your right hand and close down the second finger while you straighten out the first and bring it again to the chair with jack upon it. call jill also that jack may have some one to sing to, and as you say, "come back, jill," bend down the second finger and straighten out the first one with jill on it, and let her fly down to jack. you may repeat the lines again and again, making the pets come and go. you can play "chin chopper chin" with your sister, but you must be careful and touch her face very lightly. as you say "knock at the door," softly tap her forehead, and at "peep in," gently raise the outside of her eyelid by pushing the top of your finger upward on her temple near the eye, but not too near, as you might accidentally strike the eye. "lift up the latch" by slightly raising the tip of her nose with the end of your finger. at "walk in" gently place your finger between her lips; end the play by saying "chin chopper chin" as you lightly tap several times under her chin. were i with you now we would play "build the tower." [illustration: fig. .--the famous five little pigs.] i would place my right hand down flat on my lap with the back of the hand uppermost, and say to you, "lay your right hand out flat on top of mine;" then i would place my left hand over yours, and you would cover mine with your left hand. that would make four hands all piled up in a tower; but the moment your left hand came down on top of mine i would pull my right hand out from under the tower and lay it on top, covering your left hand; then you would hurry to take your right hand from under the pile and place it on top. so we would continue to play, always drawing the hand out from the bottom of the pile and placing it on top until we were able to build the tower very rapidly, and, when either of us took too long a time to draw her hand out from under the pile, a forfeit would have to be given to the other. [illustration: fig. .--"this little pig went to market,"] [illustration: fig. .--"this little pig had roast beef,"] [illustration: fig. .--"this little pig stayed at home,"] [illustration: fig. .--"this little pig had none,"] [illustration: fig. .--"this little pig said wee, wee, all the way home."] [illustration: fig. .--ring of paper on pig.] ask your older sister or brother to trace the famous five little pigs (figs. , , , , ) on unruled white writing-paper and cut them out. the strip of paper extending from one side of each little pig must be made into a ring (fig. ) to fit the end of one of the five fingers on your right hand (fig. ). begin with "this little pig went to market" (fig. ) for the thumb, next, "this little pig stayed at home" (fig. ) for the first finger, then "this little pig had roast beef" (fig. ) for the second finger, and "this little pig had none" (fig. ) for the third finger; to the little finger belongs (fig. ) "this little pig said wee, wee, all the way home." adjust the bands until they fit perfectly, then paste the end of each band under the free side of the attached pig. if the bands are too long they can be cut to proper length. fig. gives the wrong side of a pig with band curled around and pasted on back of pig, and fig. shows how the five little pigs will look when on your fingers. if you can give each little pig a flat wash of pink water-color paint, and when dry ink the outlines, they will appear more real. after you have played with the wee pigs, try the children's heads (figs. , , , , ), and ask some one to fold paper into hats for your finger-heads, as shown in figs. , , , , . you might ask to have the various children's heads painted, giving each girl and boy different colored hair--black, brown, red, deep yellow, and pale yellow. if the hats are of colored tissue-paper the effect will be fine, especially if a bit of gay cloth be wound around each finger for clothing. then the five alive little dolls can bow to each other and dance. [illustration: fig. .--"i am sleepy."] [illustration: fig. .--sleepy boy's hat.] [illustration: fig. .--"where is my hat?"] [illustration: fig. .--crying boy's hat.] [illustration: fig. .--"i think you are funny."] [illustration: fig. .--hat for little girl who wants to play.] [illustration: fig. .--"will you play with me?"] [illustration: fig. .--laughing boy's hat.] [illustration: fig. .--"i'll give you a good time."] [illustration: fig. .--little girl's hat.] [illustration: arranging the flowers.] chapter xxv how to arrange fresh flowers i think one must really love the flowers in order to arrange them perfectly. if you love them you will feel in sympathy with them, and that alone will help you to understand what is needed to bring out and emphasize their exquisite beauty. yet some knowledge of the rules that govern the best arrangement of flowers is necessary also, for it saves many experiments and makes the pretty task much more enjoyable and satisfactory. you may crowd a room with the rarest and most expensive flowers, but so arrange them that more than half of the effect of their beauty is lost; and you may have only one flower, but if it be the right kind of flower in the right kind of vase, and placed in just the right spot, your room will appear abundantly decorated and be filled with the beauty and sweetness of the one blossom. in a house where good taste always prevailed there stood, one day, on the uncovered top of a grand piano a tall, colorless, transparent vase which held just one long-stemmed american beauty rose. the queenly flower with its stem showing through the glass and the few green leaves attached were all reflected in the highly polished piano, and the effect of the colors reproduced in deepened, darkened tones by the rich rosewood was indescribably lovely. there were no other flowers and, though the room was a large one, none were needed. one's eyes fell immediately upon the rose when entering, and lingered there with no wish to be drawn away by lesser attractions. it was not merely a happy accident that placed the one flower in its prominent and effective position, but the experience and unerring taste of the daughter of the house. imagine a number of nasturtiums, with no green leaves to relieve them, packed tightly into the neck of a brightly colored porcelain vase, and set primly on a stiff mantel-piece amid other prim ornaments. then think of a clear glass rose-bowl standing on a table, where lie the newest magazines or books, filled and running over in riotous beauty with the same nasturtiums in their free, untrammelled state. the viney stems with leaf, bud, and blossom drooping to the table or hanging over its edge, and the other blossoms standing up in sweet liberty with room to move about if they will. can you hesitate between the two arrangements? yet i found the first in a flower-lover's home. do not crowd the flowers few flowers look well packed tightly together and all are better for loosening up a trifle. purple violets are almost the only flowers that will bear crowding, though many think wild daisies adapted to this arrangement, and spoil their beauty by making them into hard, tight bunches. a good rule is to follow nature as far as possible in this direction. flowers that grow singly and far apart, should not be crowded, but those which grow thickly clustered may be more closely massed. it is almost always well to combine green leaves with the flowers although there are some that do not need this relief. closely packed flowers should have no foliage; chrysanthemums, one species of the brilliant poppy and the sweet-pea need none, but there are few others that do not show better amid green leaves. while flowers of different varieties seldom look well together, you may sometimes add much to its beauty by giving a flower the foliage of another plant, and a trailing green vine will often be just the touch needed to soften a stiff arrangement. asparagus fern is an airy and feathery green, but you must use it with discretion, as it is suitable only for fragile, delicate flowers in very loose arrangements. other ferns, though often used, do not really combine well with any flowers, they are too distinctly another species of plant and hold themselves aloof in their separateness. the wild oxalis, wood-sorrel, or, as the children call it, sour grass, has pretty delicate leaves that look well with sweet-peas and other small flowers. as a rule, a flower's own foliage suits it best, however, and you may be certain not to offend good taste by keeping to it. do not combine flowers that are different in kind or color, it can seldom be done successfully. to be sure, a mass of sweet-peas in all their variety of color is very lovely, but even they are more effective when separated into bunches each of one color. white flowers sometimes are the better for a touch of color, and white and yellow roses make a pretty combination, or white and delicate pink, but the strong contrast of white and dark red is not pleasing. lilies should always have a vase to themselves, and the ascension lily must under all circumstances stand alone. neither the quality of the flower nor the associations connected with it permit of its being grouped with any other. vases in the careful arrangement of flowers your object should always be to bring out their whole beauty, and let all else be secondary to that. one vase, though beautiful in itself, may not be at all suitable for holding flowers, while another, of no value as an ornament, will display them to their best advantage. colorless transparent vases are always safe and in many cases absolutely necessary. give your roses transparent vases or bowls whenever possible. if they have long stems, tall, slender vases, if their stems are short the clear glass rose-bowls are more suitable. short-stemmed flowers do not look well in tall vases, and a flower should always stand some distance above the top of the vase. someone gives as a rule that the height of long-stemmed flowers should be one and one-half times the height of the vase, but when the vase contains several, of course the height must vary. the vases and bowls need not be expensive, for they are now in the market at extremely low prices. knowing what to choose you can find for a very moderate sum tall, slender vases with almost no markings, that will show the long stem and so display the entire loveliness of the rose. fig. is one of the least expensive of these vases. even the colorless glass olive-bottle, shaped like fig. , makes a pretty and suitable vase, and an ordinary fish-globe displays the rose-stems to far greater advantage than a cut-glass rose-bowl. a clear glass water-pitcher without tracing of any kind is another appropriate receptacle for these lovely blossoms. when the stems of any flowers have beauty of their own, they should never be hidden in opaque vases. so it is not for roses alone these transparent vases are suitable. [illustration: fig. .--an inexpensive clear glass vase.] [illustration: fig. .--the olive bottle.] colored vases and jars will sometimes enhance the brilliancy of flowers of contrasting or complementary colors. a pale-yellow jar will intensify the richness of the purple of the violet, and a soft green will harmonize with it most delightfully. the neutral gray often found in japanese ware will not clash with any color, and is especially suited to brilliant red flowers; yellow flowers in a dark-blue jar are quite effective. do not use ornate or highly decorated vases. no design should conflict with the natural flowers, and the shape of the vase should also be simple. cylindrical jars, like fig. , are suited to heavy clustering flowers like the lilac and also to the large chrysanthemums. fig. is another good shape; but avoid vases like fig. with a neck so small it will admit only one or two stems, while the bowl is much too large for the few flowers standing stiffly erect. [illustration: fig. .--a cylindrical jar.] [illustration: fig. .--another good shape.] [illustration: fig. .--avoid vases like this.] place short-stemmed flowers, like the pansy and violet, in low jars or bowls, and it is not necessary to have them lie flat on the water. a friend of mine has invented for her own use this little flower lifter which holds the flowers above the water while allowing nearly the whole of their short stems to be immersed. with an old pair of shears, or a wire-cutter, snip off a dozen or more pieces of copper wire of varying lengths between ten inches for the longest and five for the shortest piece. at each end of every wire make a loop like fig. ; bend the loops over (fig. ), then fasten all the pieces to a brass curtain-ring by twisting each piece once around the ring at the centre of the wire (fig. ). bunch the wires together and stand the lifter in a bowl of water; put your flower-stems through the wire loops, as in fig. , and the wires under water will look like the flower-stems, the loops being hidden by the blossoms. [illustration: fig. .--at each end of the wire make a loop.] [illustration: fig. .--bend the loops over.] symmetry is pleasing and necessary in many things, but not in the grouping of flowers. you must strive for apparent carelessness in effect while taking the utmost care, and for irregularity and naturalness rather than stiff, formal arrangement. a bowl of flowers need not look, as it sometimes does, like a dish for the table, served with the confectioner's symmetrical decorations; it should rather seem as if the sweet blossoms were growing in a bed of their own. if you can take wild flowers up in a clump, roots and all; they will look far better than the cut flowers arranged in vases, and the roots may afterward be planted in your wild-flower garden. [illustration: fig. .--fasten the pieces to a brass curtain-ring.] bloodroot will keep a long while if the roots are not disturbed, and one of the loveliest flower-pieces we ever had in the house was a gray-green japanese bowl filled with the growing bloodroot. the blossoms stand closely together and a small bowl will hold quite a number. [illustration: fig. .--put the flower stems through the wire loops.] wood anemones, hepaticas, and wild violets are all adapted to this temporary transplanting. i have kept ferns in this way for several weeks and the centre-piece for the table in our mountain camp was at one time a clump of maiden-hair fern in a small china bowl, which lasted fresh and perfect many days. as there can be comparatively little soil with the roots of these wild flowers, they must be kept very damp all the while, and ferns, especially, will do best when set in a pan or bowl of water. chapter xxvi open-air playhouses in many places in the south the children have most beautiful material with which to build out-of-door playhouses. large green palm-leaves grow close to the ground and point their slender fingers out in many directions as though holding up their outstretched hands, asking the girls and boys to come and take them. these palms, together with small, full-leaved live-oak twigs, cherokee roses, trailing vines, and long gray moss, are fashioned into bouquets and tied in great bunches to the trees with strings made of strips of palms. four trees growing near together are usually selected as the boundary lines of the florida playhouse, their branches overhead serving as a roof. the walls are open, allowing a free passage of air and plenty of light (fig. ). similar playhouses may be built by children in any spot where trees grow within a short distance of each other. in place of tropical decorations the young builders can use the most ornamental bouquets within reach, selecting foliage and flowers which will keep fresh at least for a few hours. if trees are not available, make the open-air [illustration: fig. .--florida playhouse.] [illustration: fig. .--framework for umbrella playhouse.] playhouse of a large umbrella. tie a strong piece of twine securely to the end of each of the ribs and tie the loose end of each piece of twine around the notch cut in a pointed wooden peg a short distance from its top. this will give an umbrella with a fringe of dangling pegs. open the umbrella and fasten the handle securely to a long, sharp-pointed stick, binding the two together with strong twine. first run one end of the twine down the length you intend binding, allowing enough to tie at the bottom; then commence binding at the top over all three--the umbrella handle, the twine, and the stick. wind the string around very tight, and when you reach the bottom, tie the twine you hold to the loose end of the length under the wrappings. examine carefully and be sure the handle does not slide or twist on the stick; then push the point of the stick down into the ground at the place decided upon for the playhouse. if you are not strong enough to erect the house by yourself, ask some companions to lend a hand and help sink the stick firmly in the earth. when this is accomplished stretch out each length of twine in turn and drive the peg in the ground (fig. ). you will need a wide ruffle on the edge of the umbrella of some kind of material full enough to reach around the outer circle of pegs on the ground beneath its lower edge. the stretched twine will hold the ruffle out, forming an odd little playhouse with a smooth, round roof and drapery walls. plait the ruffle and pin it on the umbrella with safety-pins; also fasten it at the bottom to each peg (fig. ). newspapers pasted together and made of double thickness may be used for the ruffle, if more convenient, but be careful in handling the paper, as it tears readily. the longer the pole the higher and larger will be your house, for the strings also must be longer. [illustration: fig. .--umbrella playhouse.] [illustration: fig. .--frame for wigwam.] when you want to play indian and pretend you live in the wild west, your home must be a wigwam get a dozen slender poles about as large around as a broom-stick, and twice and one-half as tall as yourself. tie three poles securely together near the tops and stack the others around the first three as a foundation or framework for the house. settle each pole firmly in the ground, forming a circle, and bring the tops together at the centre, where each pole should form a support for the others, and all should lean against and across each other; then bind all the poles together at the top of the framework (fig. ). covers of real wigwams are usually cut to fit the framework and often decorated in savage fashion. sometimes they are composed of skins of wild beasts. if you can make yours in indian style, it will be very realistic and lots of fun. find some inexpensive dull-brown or gray outing cloth or canton flannel and sew several lengths together. fig. gives the pattern of a wigwam covering, and the dotted lines enclosing b-b-b-b show how the breadths are sewed together. c is the chimney-opening where the poles come through at the top. o is one of the flaps held back with an extra pole; d, one of the lower front sides folded over for the door-way. the dotted line a indicates the slit to be cut for the chimney-flap. the two chimney-flaps can be brought together for protection when necessary. along the curved edge of the blank side of the diagram (fig. ) holes are shown for the wooden stakes to be used in pinning the wigwam to the ground. the holes must be continued along the entire edge of the covering. [illustration: fig. .--cover for playhouse wigwam.] cut your wigwam similar to diagram (fig. ), making an immense cape-like affair. try the covering over the framework of poles; if it fits fairly well, hem the raw edges and bind the small, round holes cut at intervals in the lower edge, to prevent them from tearing. when finished tie each of the two top points to a separate pole. ask someone to assist you and let the two poles be raised at the same time to the top of the wigwam framework; in this way the entire upper part of the covering may be hoisted in place; then the sides can be spread out and adjusted. indians, having no chimneys, always leave quite a large opening at the top of their wigwams to serve this purpose; the space also admits light into their houses. commence near the top at the place where the flaps are cut, and pin the fronts together with large thorns or sharp-pointed slender sticks. fasten the fronts to within a few feet of the ground. the opening left at the bottom takes the place of a door. sharpen as many wooden pegs as there are holes in the bottom of the covering and push a peg through each hole into the ground, bending the pegs outward a little in order to keep the tent-like covering from slipping off the tops of the pegs. the two poles attached to the chimney points must now be carried backward on each side of the wigwam, to be brought forward again when desired (fig. ). when other material is lacking, shawls, bedspreads, or sheets pinned together may be used for your wigwam-cover. [illustration: fig. .--your wigwam playhouse.] [illustration: fig. .--african hut playhouse.] [illustration: fig. .--framework ready for floral tent.] [illustration: fig. .--binding branch on forked stick.] [illustration: fig. .--building the floral tent playhouse.] with a large-sized japanese umbrella, a breadth of cloth, a stick, and some straw you can make an african hut take the straw or hay and divide some of it into bunches twelve inches in length. tie these all together in a long row, forming a straw fringe. sew the fringe around the edge of the umbrella with a coarse needle and thread, allowing it to hang over and down. overlap the first row with another straw fringe and continue to sew on row after row until the top is reached and the umbrella entirely covered; then fasten the handle securely to a sharp-pointed stick and plant it firmly in the ground. measure the distance around the outer edge of the umbrella, not including the straw thatch, and cut the cloth long enough to reach around, leaving an open space for the door-way. use more straw to cover the cloth completely and sew the straw on in overlapping layers lengthwise of the material. with safety-pins fasten the wall around the inner edge of the umbrella, pinning the cloth to little loops of tape you have tied at intervals over the ribs of the umbrella (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--floral tent playhouse.] the floral tent is easy to erect. push two forked sticks into the ground and on one bind an upright slender branch (fig. ); then lay a pole across from one crotch to another (figs. and ). on the upright branch tie flowers and grasses, twisting a wreath of the same around the forked stick. procure some bright-colored flowered material, or cloth of any kind and hang it over the central pole. stretch out the four corners and peg them to the ground (fig. ). chapter xxvii keeping store the best place for keeping store is out-of-doors, where there will be plenty of room and no fear of disturbing the grown people. select a shady spot by the side of a house, fence, or tree, carry your supplies there and set up the store. build the counter by placing a board across from one empty barrel to another (fig. ). turn the barrels upside down, bringing the covered side uppermost that there may be no possibility of losing articles down through the open barrel heads. large, strong wooden boxes or two chairs may serve to support the ends of the counter if barrels are not at hand. [illustration: fig. .--the counter for your store.] on each end of the counter nail an empty wooden box. stand the box on one end and let the open part face backward; put your hand inside and drive a few nails through box and counter to fasten the box securely in place. do the same with the second box and your counter will be ready for the scales. [illustration: fig. .--tin cover for scale.] [illustration: fig. .--tin cover pierced with three holes.] [illustration: fig. .--band for measuring holes.] [illustration: fig. .--folded paper for measuring.] [illustration: fig. .--strings tied on tin lid.] these are very necessary in weighing different articles. they can be made of the round covers of two large-sized baking-powder or cracker cans (fig. ). have the covers exactly the same size, and punch three holes in the rim of each at equal distances apart (fig. ). to obtain the exact measurements for placing the holes, take a strip of paper and wrap it smoothly and tightly around the outside of the rim of the cover. let the paper be a trifle narrower than the rim of the lid, and be sure to fold over the long end exactly where it meets the first end (fig. , a). remove the paper, cut off the fold, and again try the strip on the cover. see that the measurement is perfectly correct, then take the paper off and fold it into three equal sections, making two folds and two ends (fig. ), and for the third time wrap the strip of paper around the cover rim. mark the tin at the point where the ends meet, and where the two creases in the paper strike the tin; this will give three marks on the rim equally distant from each other. drive a wire nail through the tin rim at the three marked places to make the necessary holes (fig. ); then tie knots in the ends of six pieces of string of equal length, and thread a string through each of the three holes in each of the lids. fasten the three strings on each lid together at the top (fig. ). cut a notch at each end of a stick and tie the scales in place (fig. ). make two notches in the centre of the stick, one on the top, the other on the bottom, and tie a string around the stick at the centre notches by which to suspend the scales. this centre string may be fastened to an overhanging tree-branch, or you can make a support for it. nail an upright stick to the end of the counter and box, allowing it to come a little below the board; then nail another upright stick in the same way to the other end of the counter. notch the tops of the uprights, lay a long, slender stick across from one to the other and tie the centre string of the scales on the cross-stick (fig. ). fig. gives an end view and shows exactly how to nail the upright on the box and end of board. use different-sized stones as weights; a small one for a quarter of a pound, one twice as large for a half pound, and another twice the size of the last for a whole pound. [illustration: fig. .--scales of tin can lids.] [illustration: fig. .--nail upright on box and end of board this way.] [illustration: fig. .--take your place behind the counter and keep store.] find a number of empty boxes in which to keep your supplies, and stand them in a row on another counter back of the first (fig. ). fill each box a little more than half full of sand, earth, pebbles, or dried leaves, which you must pretend is flour, sugar, coffee, tea, or other things in stock. find a large shell, a piece of shingle, or anything else that will answer the purpose, for a scoop to use in handling many of the groceries. label each box with the name of the article you intend it to contain; then look up your vegetables and nuts. [illustration: fig. .--supplies for your store.] acorns make fine nuts. gather a quantity of them, and for cabbage tie a number of corn-husks together, or grape-vine or hollyhock leaves; any kind of large leaves will answer the purpose. take a small, short stick and with a string wind the ends of the leaves, one leaf at a time, on the stick, folding the first leaf opposite to and inside the second, the second in the third, and so on, always allowing each succeeding leaf to overlap the last until the cabbage-head is large enough; the resemblance to the real cabbage will be remarkable. spinach may be made of small leaves. for asparagus pick a number of long, slender seed stems of the plantain. short, slender sticks placed in a glass jar may serve as sticks of candy, licorice, or licorice root. you can utilize various grasses, leaves, roots, and seeds in many ways. when selling groceries you will need wrapping paper in which the customers may carry away their goods. cut newspaper into uniform sheets of two or three sizes and lay them conveniently near for use. string will not be necessary if you twist the paper into cornucopias. hold the lower right-hand corner of a sheet of paper with your right hand and the other lower corner on the same edge with your left hand; pull the corner in your right hand forward, continue to bring it toward you until it stretches out and up from the corner in your left hand and covers well within the upper corner diagonally from it. hold these two corners together with the right hand while with the left you roll the bottom corner, held in that hand, outside, forming the lower point of the cornucopia. fold up the bottom point to keep the cornucopia from unrolling (fig. ), and it will be ready for whatever it is to hold. the top point, b, can be turned down as a cover. [illustration: fig. .--newspaper cornucopia.] flower-pots or tin cans, large and small, may serve for pint and quart measures. always give _generous measure_ and _full weight_ when selling your supplies. this item is very important; remember it every time you make a sale, for the act will help to build up true ideas of justice and honesty. now make the money necessary to use in the store. take ordinary white writing-paper not too heavy and lay it over a coin; hold the paper down securely with the thumb and first finger of your left hand while you rub an old spoon or smooth metal of some kind over and over the paper-covered coin. the metal end of the handle of a penknife is convenient to use for this purpose. after one or two rubs you will see indications of the print of the coin; a few more rubs will bring out the lines distinctly. make as many coins as you will need, of different denominations. money of any country may be coined in this manner. [illustration: fig. .--paper for your pocket-book.] after printing all money necessary, cut it out ready for use and put the change into paper pocket-books. [illustration: fig. .--fold down the two top corners until they meet.] [illustration: fig. .--fold the other two corners in the same way.] [illustration: fig. .--fold top point to meet centre of folded edge.] [illustration: fig. .--fold bottom point to meet centre of folded edge.] it requires only a few moments to make them. cut a piece of smooth paper eleven and one-half inches long and seven wide (fig. ). fold down diagonally the two top corners until they meet (fig. ); fold the other two corners in the same way (fig. ). fold the top point down to meet centre of folded edge (fig. ); do likewise with the bottom point (fig. ). turn the top over and fold to centre (fig. ); bring the bottom up to meet the edge of the folded top (fig. ). now fold back and under one of the sides (fig. ), fold under the other side (fig. ), and bend back lengthwise through the centre until top and bottom meet (fig. ). lay the pocket-book down on one side and the lower part will resemble fig. . the lower portion of the sides o and p, fig. , must be fastened together that the bottom may be tight and secure. cut a strip of paper a trifle shorter than the length of (fig. ), and insert it at the bottom by first folding the strip through the centre lengthwise, then sliding one edge in at o and the other in at p. push the two sides of the strip well up in the pocket-book, and the bottom will be tightly bound (fig. ). turn the pocket-book right side up, and you will find two nice, firm little pockets. slip your finger in one pocket and pull out the point to serve as a cover (fig. ). cut a short slit through one layer of the front of the pocket-book for securing the point of the cover when the pocket-book is closed (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--turn the top over and fold to centre] [illustration: fig. .--bring the bottom up to meet edge of folded top.] divide the money among those taking part in the sport; then take your place behind the counter and let your little friends call and purchase whatever they choose. [illustration: fig. .--fold back and under one of the sides.] be careful in making change that there are no mistakes, and insist that each customer count the money received in change before leaving the store. if you wish to be very business-like, take account of all goods sold. write down the articles with the measure or weight and the price received, as nearly as possible as accounts are kept in real stores. should customers keep you too busy to put down the items yourself, let another person act as bookkeeper and cashier, and when you make a sale call out to your assistant the item with amount sold and money received; for instance, should a boy purchase a pound of sugar, call to the bookkeeper: "one pound of sugar, ten cents;" then turn your attention to the next customer while your comrade writes down the amount. if the weather continues fine, you can leave your store undisturbed for several days in succession and conduct it after school hours. [illustration: fig. .--fold under the other side.] [illustration: fig. .--bend backward until top and bottom meet.] [illustration: fig. .--showing under part of pocket-book.] [illustration: fig. .--bottom of pocket-book tightly bound.] [illustration: fig. .--pointed cover of pocket-book.] [illustration: fig. .--pocket-book closed.] if you find that you need more and a greater variety of candy manufacture it of strips of bright-colored paper rolled into the form of paper lighters about the length and thickness of ordinary stick candy. these mingled together in a separate glass jar or piled upon the counter add to the attractiveness of the store. hard lump candy of various-sized pebbles will probably sell well, but if upon trial the demand is not as great as desired, you might wrap each pebble in a bit of bright paper to enhance its appearance; then the customers will doubtless invest more liberally in the gay-colored sweetmeats. small candy balls, red and white, may be made of the red and white clover-heads picked close to the blossom, leaving no sign of the green stem visible. keep the different colors separate, placing all of the red clover candy flat down in one layer on the inside of a box-lid, where it will look bright and pretty. the upturned edges of the lid prevent the clover from rolling out. white-clover candy will appear to better advantage if you place a piece of colored tissue-paper in a box-lid, allowing the edges of the paper to stand up a trifle beyond the sides before arranging the white clover in the lid. gather a variety of grasses, roots, and leaves, tie them up in little bunches with strings formed of several pieces of long grass twisted or braided together, and sell them as soup-seasoning herbs. large bouquets of white clover-blossoms with long stems and no leaves when bunched together, forming a white mass on the top, and then surrounded by large green leaves tied in place with braided grass, make excellent imitations of cauliflowers. use the round, flat hollyhock-seed for crackers; peel off the outside green cover and the crackers will be white. you can pretend large-sized poppy-seed vessels are green tomatoes, which your customers will be glad to buy for making pickles. have everything connected with your store neat and orderly, and conduct it in a business-like manner. do not forget to make bars of soap of moist clay or earth. have the clay only soft enough to mould and cut with an old knife; when of the right consistency form the cakes, making them all the same size. cut the edges smooth and even and lay the soap on a board in the sun to harden sufficiently to handle with ease. you might also use moist clay for butter, and cut off portions as customers call for it, weighing the butter in your scales to obtain the exact quantity desired by each purchaser. now try and think of other supplies you can make of the moist clay. chapter xxviii a frolic with the roses select one rose from the many you have gathered and hold the blossom tenderly while you look down into its heart and breathe in its beauty and fragrance; then gently turn the rose over and find how wonderfully all the petals fit in and are held together in their pretty green cup with its long green streamers, which we call the calyx. is there any flower more beautiful? see how daintily it is formed, how exquisite the coloring and how wonderful the texture! could a manufacturer furnish you with such enchanting material from which to make your toys? boats of rose petals carefully detach the rose petals one by one, beginning with the outermost and largest. be cautious not to bruise or injure the fragile little things. cut the sail and mast all in one piece from tissue-paper (fig. ). fold the mast over twice, according to the dotted lines, that it may be stiff and able to stand erect. bend the lower portion of the mast as in fig. . paste the inner sides of the fold together, and it will form a flat piece extending out on each side of the mast (fig. ). over the bottom of this spread the least bit of strong paste or glue and place the mast well forward on one of the largest rose petals. the portion of the petal which grew inside the calyx forms the front part or bow of the boat. have the mast stand perfectly erect; if it is inclined to bend toward either side, straighten it and keep it upright. before launching the vessel allow a few moments for the glue to dry, then lift the boat very carefully by the top of the mast with your thumb and first finger and set it down on the water, which must be without even a ripple. when once the boat is well launched the waves may come with slight risk of damage to the craft. [illustration: fig. .--tissue-paper sail and mast cut in one piece.] [illustration: fig. .--bend lower portion of mast.] let the first boat be of a large pink rose petal and have its sail of the same color. make two vessels of white rose petals with white sails and join the boats with a strip of white tissue-paper. paste one end of the paper strip on the inner part of the right-hand side of one boat and fasten the other end of the paper strip on the inner part of the left-hand side of the other boat, allowing sufficient space between the two boats to keep them from touching. the twins will then sail together like two beautiful white sea-gulls floating on the crest of a wave. [illustration: fig. .--form a flat stand.] [illustration: fig. .--green tissue-paper sail and mast.] take one of the green leaves and fasten on it a green sail different in shape from the white (fig. ). place this boat with the other pretty craft on the miniature lake in the large glass dish or basin. though not so fragile and delicate, the green bark is charming. agitate and move the water as the boats lie at anchor, and watch the effect. drifting, floating, and dancing, the fleet of tiny boats will begin to move: the mingling of the different tints and colors, the various beautiful reflections cast in the clear water by the little vessels with their spreading sails, form a delightful fairy-like spectacle. fig. gives only a faint idea of the actual scene, which is all color, life, fragrance, and beauty. when you keep the dainty fleet on the water in-doors, it ought to remain in good condition for several days. if you wish to have the lake in the open air, dig a hole in the ground sufficiently large and deep to hold the pan you intend to use as a lake. sink the tin in the hole, fit it in perfectly steady and firm, then pour clear water into the pan, and when it is quiet launch the fleet. [illustration: fig. .--fairy fleet of rose-petal boats.] you will need a little rose girl like fig. , to help you enjoy the boats, a girl who can stand by the water and watch the sailing-vessels; you can make such a one of a rose turned upside down. choose the largest and most fully blown rose for the rose girl. cut the stem off about two inches from the blossom, and push a common wooden toothpick through the stem midway between the rose and the end of the stem. the toothpick forms the girl's two arms (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--how to make the rose girl.] fashion the head from an old seed-vessel, which you will probably find still clinging to one of the rose-bushes. first make a small hole quite deep in the top of the seed-vessel; then push the end of the stem of the rose up into the head (fig. ). run each toothpick arm through a green leaf and use a white or pale-pink rose petal for the girl's face (fig. ). pin the petal to the head with four rose thorns, using two for the eyes, one for the nose, and one for the mouth. pin a rose petal on the top of the head for a hat. turn backward two petals, without breaking them from the rose, to form the dress waist; pin or gum one petal to the arms and neck in front and the other to the arms and neck at the back. then stick three wooden toothpicks in the top of the rose (fig. ); place the toothpicks so they will form a tripod, two on a line across the front and the third a trifle back of and midway between the front ones. these three toothpicks will enable the rose girl to stand alone; the two foremost serve as legs and the other as a support. you can make feet of two green leaves stuck on the ends of the two front toothpicks (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--the wide-awake rose girl.] perhaps the little rose girl would like a garden of her own, enclosed by a fence made of green leaves, thorns, short slender sticks and a pliable rose stem. bend the stem into an arch and pin it down to a board with ordinary pins, each end over a green leaf (fig. ). begin at the bottom and attach the leaves to the arch with thorns, allowing all leaves to point upward. decorate one side, then begin again at the bottom and fasten leaves on the other side; finish the arch by pinning a leaf upright in the centre. build the fence of green leaves pinned together at their sides with slender sticks or broom straws; stand the fence upright in a circular form, and fasten one end leaf on each side of the arch (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--bent rose-stem for arch.] [illustration: fig. .--the rose-girl's garden fence.] of course you must give the rose girl a party; you might call it "the feast of roses," and decorate the four corners of a wee table with vases which would rival in color and beauty the famous "peachblow vase" for which such a fabulous price was paid. make the little vases of large pink rosebuds; those beginning to unfold are the best. peel off the outside petals and, grasping each bud, in turn, near its base with the thumb and first two fingers, gently work it back and forth until it is loosened and can be removed entire without damage. stand each vase on a level surface and gather spears of grass to place in them. push some of the grass ends down into the vases, but do not crowd them; have only two or three in each vase (fig. ). the pink color of the vase will contrast pleasingly with the green of the grass, and the feast will be laden with the delicate perfume of roses. you might candy different colored rose petals by dipping them in hot sugar syrup boiled until it spins like a thread, and then drying the petals separately on oiled paper; they will be appropriate for the party. [illustration: fig. .--peachblow vase of rosebud.] [illustration: fig. .--green rose-leaf for part of turtle.] [illustration: fig. .--rose petal and green leaf turtle.] in addition to these things the rose girl must have a little pet turtle to take out walking in her garden. cut a green leaf of a rose like fig. . cover the top with a rose petal gummed on around its edges, and the turtle will be ready for a stroll (fig. ). draw a face with ink on your finger, and make a rose-petal cap for the finger-head by lapping two petals over each other, leaving the outer edges for the sides and bottom of the cap. gum one petal upon the other and put the cap on your finger (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--rose-petal cap for finger-head.] [illustration: fig. .--two cream-colored rose-petals for part of pansy.] [illustration: fig. .--pink rose petals partially over light ones.] [illustration: fig. .--pansy ready for last rose petal.] [illustration: fig. .--pansy ready for green leaves.] [illustration: fig. .--pansy green leaf cut from rose leaf.] we have not enough rose petals to serve for a shower, as had a roman emperor long ago when he made bushels of them rain down upon his guests from the ceiling of his banquet-hall, but we can collect sufficient rose petals to use in painting some pretty designs. you will need neither paints nor brushes, for the roses are the colors and deft little fingers the brushes. you must take the paints as you find them and work this way: place two cream-colored petals on a smooth blank paper laid over a flat surface (fig. ); arrange two pink petals partially over the light ones (fig. ); lay down a stem from which you have taken the thorns (fig. ); add to the flower a fifth petal, which should be pink, and you will have painted a pansy (fig. ). cut two of the green leaves of the rose according to fig. , and place them as if growing at different distances on opposite sides of the stem (fig. ). glue or strong paste dropped sparingly on the paper where you intend to put the centre of the flower will hold the petals in position, and, if necessary, you may use a trifle more glue as the work proceeds. [illustration: fig. .--painting of pansy made with rose petals.] rose butterflies do not look exactly like real ones, but they are very pretty, and you can readily paint one. arrange two large red rose petals for the front wings (fig. ); slightly over-lapping the lower edges of these lay two smaller white petals, and make the body of a green leaf cut like fig. . gum it down over the lengthwise centre of the group of petals. [illustration: fig. .--red rose-petal wings and green rose-leaf body.] [illustration: fig. .--body of butterfly.] conventional designs are very easy to paint. take the rose calyx, cut off its lower half and place the calyx flat down on smooth blank white paper; it resembles a five-pointed star. under the tip of each point slide the inner end of a rose petal, any color you choose. between each two rose petals gum a green leaf (fig. ). now take away the star centre and use rose petals in its place, and you will have a "rose window" design. try alternating red and dark-red velvet petals, or use all yellow petals. in this way you may form a variety of patterns painted with roses. [illustration: fig. .--conventional design painted with roses.] [illustration: fig. .--rose petals pinned together for wreath.] to make dainty wreaths of rose petals, pin them together in a long row with slender sticks or broom straws (fig. ). you can weave larger and more substantial wreaths, strong enough to place on your mother's head when crowning her "queen of beauty and kindness." use the entire blossom mingled with buds and green leaves, all short stemmed, not longer than three or four inches. bind the stems with string on a circle made of a piece of willow or some other pliable material, and be sure to remove the thorns from all the stems before weaving the wreath (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--wreath of roses.] try to find some new beauty in every rose you see this summer. write it all down, and the following june you will discover still other beauties to jot in your rose book. chapter xxix a straw-ride picnic there is a charm in the very word picnic, for it brings with it a breezy, wholesome, out-of-door atmosphere, quickening the pulse and causing the lips to smile with delight and the eyes to sparkle with merriment. a genuine american picnic means a jolly little party in the open air with plenty of space for all sorts of games and amusements; and then the dinner! its equal could not be enjoyed in an ordinary dining-room. there is no need of chairs when the party is gathered around the feast, for the novelty and fascination of sitting on the ground while dining are thoroughly enjoyed, and everyone knows how delicious a mere bit of bread and butter may taste when eaten from the low, green table, the general enchantment of place and scene giving an added flavor. [illustration: going on a straw-ride picnic.] june is the ideal time for picnics; in this month there are so many perfect days, when none should work, but all should play, that one is prompted to plan for a little fun and frolic, including an informal straw ride, which shall form part of the programme of the entertainment. choose for the ride a large, roomy wagon, remove all the seats except the one reserved for the driver, and fill the bottom of the vehicle with plenty of fresh, clean straw. let all the party be seated on this, have within reach warm wraps for protection in case of cooler weather or a shower; and stow the luncheon away under the seat of the driver. the horse should not be too spirited for such an occasion, and the driver must be a strong, reliable man who understands perfectly the management of the reins. thus equipped, with two or three grown persons in charge, the girls and boys may throw care to the winds and enjoy their ride over hill and dale, through sweet meadows and along leafy lanes dappled with golden sunshine; again on the highway, past field and wood, driving gayly along until the picnic ground is reached. should the ride be more than a mile or two, the way may be beguiled with gay songs and choruses, or games in which all may join while sitting quietly in their places. such a game is the old one "simon says." [illustration: fig. .--simon says "thumbs up."] it is played with the hands only; each person doubles up his right hand, resting it on his lap and allowing his thumb to stand erect (fig. ). when all are in position the leader calls out: "simon says 'thumbs down,'" at the same time turning his thumb downward (fig. ). all follow his example; then comes the bidding "thumbs up," and many will resume the first position before they realize that the leader omitted to prefix the order with "simon says." therein lies the catch, for no command must be obeyed unless it comes from simon. [illustration: fig. .--simon says "thumbs down."] [illustration: fig. .--simon says "wiggle waggle."] the leader proceeds with "simon says, 'thumbs up,'" then up must go all thumbs, and when "simon says 'wiggle waggle,'" all move their thumbs from side to side while the hand rests in position (fig. )--dotted lines show the swing of the thumb. if any neglect to do so it counts one against him; next comes the order "stop"; the thumbs continuing to wag, the leader calls "simon says 'thumbs stop.'" the leader may command a change in the position and movement of the hand and thumb according to his fancy, but the hand cannot be unclasped nor the thumb folded down during the game. three failures count the player out, and he must then content himself with watching the others until the play ends. the leader, being privileged, follows all directions in order to confuse the others. the game is short, consisting of ten commands from the leader. it may be played with sides, the group dividing into two parties; the young people at one end of the wagon form one side, while those at the other end constitute the other side. the party losing fewest players wins the game. another interesting amusement, easily played as the wagon rolls along, is the "bird wish." at a given signal each boy and girl must close both eyes tight and make a wish, not opening the eyes until the leader calls out "look," when all may scan the blue heavens and the surrounding country in search of birds. the first to discover one cries out "bird," which insures the fulfilment of the wish. the other players are obliged to try again. there being but three chances in this game, only three of the company can be sure of successful wishes. if more diversions are needed during the drive, try the following word tangle. ask each boy and girl to repeat in turn these lines: "she says she sells sea-shells; shall she sell sea-shells?" the words must not be recited too slowly, as that would spoil the sport. let the verse be said a trifle faster than ordinary speech. the tongues of most of the players will probably become twisted, causing the words to sound unintelligible to the rest of the company, and a hearty laugh will follow the effort. only one trial is accorded each player. when the line has gone the rounds, repeat in the same manner: "fred fetched freshly fried flying fish." these little trials of skill in speech not only give you much fun, but at the same time they cure hesitancy of speech and brighten the mind; but do not let that frighten you and deter you from profiting by the sport. never be afraid of advantageous learning; let it come in what guise it may, it will surely add to your pleasure as well as your worth. when the picnic grounds are reached and all have had time to look about, everyone will be ready for exercise. so prepare for a grand rush after one of the group chosen as the "deer," who, stepping directly in front of the others, calls "ready," when the group standing still immediately sings to the air of "yankee doodle," "my heart is in the highlands, my heart isn't here. my heart is in the highlands, chasing the deer." at the word "ready" the "deer" starts to run, and as the pursuers cannot follow until the song is ended, the "deer" has time to get a certain distance ahead before the others give chase; this they do as they sing the last word in the verse. the "deer" runs a short distance, circles around and returns to the starting-point, or "home" as it is called, the followers endeavoring to catch him before he reaches his goal. after resting from this game bring the rope from its hiding-place in the wagon, also the long board stowed away flat against the side of the vehicle, and in less time than you imagine the rope can be securely fastened on a strong branch of a tree to serve as a swing, while the board may be used for a "teeter-tarter"; balance the plank across a log or the lower bars of a fence; then when two players take their seats at the ends of the board, if it is properly adjusted, they will rise and sink alternately as the ends move up and down, keeping time as the players sing: "teeter-tarter, bread and water, come and see the pretty daughter." "see-saw, margery daw, came to town to study law." if the players are of unequal weight, the heavier one shortens his half of the plank by shoving it along farther across the fence or log, preserving in this way the equilibrium. to start the "teeter-tarter" one of the players should give a slight spring upward with the feet while retaining his sitting posture on the board. prepare the dinner early, as the brisk drive in the morning air tends to stimulate the appetite. bring the lunch-boxes to the place selected for the meal; let one person take full charge and give directions, while the others unpack, build the fire, and go to the spring for water. the lunch should have been packed in paper boxes, to avoid the care of baskets. in the first box might be the loaves of fresh uncut bread and a tin baking-powder can of sweet butter, the bread to be cut into thin slices, buttered and prepared for sandwiches of various kinds. these can be easily made by adding either the chopped nuts that have been packed in a separate small box, or crisp lettuce leaves which have been detached from the stalk, well cleaned and sprinkled with fresh water, then carefully placed by themselves in a box lined with waxed or oiled paper such as is used by confectioners for sweetmeats. or the sandwiches may be of sliced ham, tongue, roast-beef or lamb, each kind of meat being folded in waxed paper and packed in its own box. when the different articles of food are managed in this way they are much more attractive and palatable, each retaining its own flavor, and there is no danger of their being mashed and jumbled together, as happens too often when the dinner is indifferently arranged and put together in a thoughtless manner. [illustration: fig. .--picnic salt-box.] the best way to carry salt, pepper, etc., is to put each into a small paper box, the salt in one of cylindrical form, the lid of which has previously been punched full of holes with the aid of a tack or a slender wire nail (fig. ). the pepper can be in a smaller and differently shaped box, and sugar in a box of still another size and shape, that there may be no chance of mistaking one for the other and covering the meat with sugar or trying to sweeten the lemonade with salt. the perforations in the lid of the pepper-box must be quite small; punch them with a large-sized needle. after the boxes are filled the lids can be fastened securely with strong paste and, before they are packed, may have paper tied down over the tops (fig. ), to preclude all chance of the contents sprinkling out during the journey. if mustard is needed, it should be prepared at home and carried in a small, wide-mouthed bottle. mayonnaise dressing is best conveyed corked up in a small stone china jar, such as is often used for jam. [illustration: fig. .--paper over the top.] boiled, fried, or broiled chicken is always acceptable at a picnic dinner; the chicken must be well cooked, cut into pieces and each portion wrapped in a separate piece of waxed paper, then packed together in a box. cold-boiled asparagus or string beans, with fresh lettuce and mayonnaise dressing, may take the place of a meat salad if desired. fruit is very refreshing and always welcome if consisting of fresh berries, cherries, etc.; pack it in the same manner as lettuce, omitting the sprinkling and washing. [illustration: fig. .--picnic wooden-spoon.] [illustration: fig. .--flat sticks to use as spoons.] of course, young people do not care for coffee, but the grown ones would like it, and they must be remembered. grind the coffee and mix with raw egg; it may then be carried in the tin coffee-pot, the coffee to be made after the grounds are reached. if cake is taken, do not let it be rich; sponge or plain cup-cake, made in layers with apple-sauce between, is best. as far as possible have the table equipment of paper, that it may not be necessary to carry it back home. a tablecloth composed of large sheets of smooth white wrapping-paper will answer the purpose very well. paper plates such as are used by bakers, make excellent substitutes for china ones and are the very thing for outing parties. spoons may be home-made, whittled of wood; should the bowls of the spoons prove too difficult to manage, make them like small shovels (fig. ). if time will not allow of this, flat, smooth sticks larger at one end than the other (fig. ) may take their place. knives are not absolutely necessary. only one need be taken, but that must be of good size and sharp, to be used for cutting bread. it is a mistake to carry fine table linen or silver, they always prove a great care and are apt to be injured or lost, but not being skilled in the art of eating with chopsticks, like the chinese, you will have to be supplied with forks. take barely enough for the purpose and have them of the most inexpensive quality; then it will not matter if one or two happen to be lost. only a few cups will be required and no saucers; the company can take turns using the cups. one item more--a pail for the water. a small camp-fire is very important. build it on a spot where there is not the slightest danger of its spreading, and into the embers and ashes roll small raw potatoes. they will be delicious baked--velvety black on the outside and, when broken open while steaming hot, soft, mealy, and snowy white on the inside. before boiling the coffee, pile a layer of flat stones on two sides of the fire and set the coffee-pot on them, bridging across the open space over the fire. water can be heated in this way for tea or chocolate. after luncheon gather all the boxes and paper and burn them in the camp-fire, being careful not to put too much on the fire at a time and waiting until one portion is burned before adding more. the paper should be rolled in small, tight balls to prevent a possible breeze from wafting it in the air. all can join in feeding the fire and enjoy the game which accompanies it. when each one has secured his contribution of box or paper, all must stand around the fire and in turn cast the fuel on the flames. the first to do so begins telling any kind of an original tale which imagination may suggest, such as, "the prince, arrayed in gorgeous and rich apparel, was about to enter his crystal palace when----" there he stops, because the rules of the game do not allow one person to speak longer than his paper burns, but until it is consumed he must not cease talking. the next in turn drops her paper on the flame and continuing the story, says, "he was startled by a peculiar noise from the grove near by. rushing to discover the cause, he saw something dark moving among the trees, it turned and slowly approached----" her paper having completely burned, the third player takes up the plot, and tossing his box on the glowing coals, says, "nearer and nearer the something came, when, lo! it proved to be a baby bear walking erect and carrying in his paws----" so it goes on, and everyone adding a little, the story grows. each player being at liberty to turn the romance to suit his mind, the story is apt to assume sudden and comical changes, giving it a peculiar charm both to those who take part and to those who listen. a short, quiet time with jack-stones, played with small stones found on the ground, will allow of sufficient rest before participating in the exhilarating sport of "menagerie." in this choose a keeper, whose duty it is to give the name of a different animal to each player. then all must form in line for the grand march. headed by the keeper, the procession twists and winds through the trees, this way and that, returning soon to the starting-point, when all join hands, forming a circle around the keeper who is then blindfolded. the circle spins merrily around until the keeper calls out "jungle," the signal for all the players to shout in chorus, each one giving the cry of the animal he represents. after that they stand perfectly still. the keeper next calls to one of the animals to enter the cage. the player named must break from the circle and, standing within the ring, gently give the cry peculiar to the animal represented, at the same time changing his position so that the keeper may not be able to catch him, as the latter tries to do, guided by the cry. if the keeper succeeds at the first trial, the two change places, and the game commences over again, but without the march. should the keeper not be able to catch the animal in his first attempt, the bandage must be removed from his eyes, and the circle standing clasping hands and elevating them high in air, give space for the animal to dart out of the cage, followed by the keeper. in and out of the circle they run, going not more than three times around the ring; if in that time the keeper does not succeed in capturing his game, he must again be blindfolded and stand in the middle of the ring while the game continues. if captured, the animal becomes the keeper and the keeper the animal. only a short while will remain before it will be time for returning home, a few moments more for tumbling about close to nature; then comes the ride back home in the big wagon filled with gay and happy girls and boys. chapter xxx a paper chase fun! why what can compare with it? the clear frosty air is full of life, the blood is rushing tumultuously through your veins and your feet are tingling to be off on the chase. it is healthful, it is inspiring, it is glorious fun. you must think, too, in order to be successful either as hare or hound, for the object of each is to outwit the other, and paper chase is a game that requires the use of brains as well as muscle. the hares and hounds compose the party. two hares and as many hounds as you will, the more the merrier. each hare must carry a bag filled with paper cut into small strips. the hounds carry only the weight of their responsibility to entrap and catch the hares. [illustration: over fences.] the game is a country game, of course. who would think of the hares and hounds dashing in a mad run through the streets of town or village. and it is a noisy game with the kee-ooi! kee-ooi! of the fleeing hares, and answering la-ha-hoo, la-ha-hoo! of the pursuing hounds. select a convenient club-house or residence for the meet and let there be two hares and at least six hounds. the first thing to be decided upon is the distance of the run, which should not be too great, especially for beginners. the next is the agreement between the hares upon a general plan to be pursued in their tactics, which must be kept secret from the hounds. the morning hours are best for the game, and a hearty appetite for lunch, or the hunt-breakfast, it might be called, is the result. at a given time let the hares start off together, scattering their bits of paper as they go, to be followed ten or fifteen minutes later by the hounds, who are led by the paper on the tracks of the hares. the object of the hares is so to scatter the paper in their cross-country run as to lead the hounds on a false scent. this is sometimes done by the hares making a detour into a field, doubling back on their tracks and running in quite another direction. or they may provide a number of false scents leading from one point. to be sure all this uses up much precious time, but the compensation lies in mystifying and delaying the hounds, each of whom must decide for herself which trail is the most likely to prove the one the hares have really taken. when the hares are off and the fifteen minutes up, the hounds must start in pursuit. their object is to head off and catch the hares before they can cover the given distance and again reach the place of meeting. a hound must not only come in sight of a hare but must touch her in order to make a catch. each player in the paper chase acts for herself, and if she succeeds in catching a hare she wins the honors. and a hare reaching home without being caught wins great honor. the hares keep together, but the hounds may scatter at will, though no girl should risk going too far alone. from time to time the hares must give their cry kee-ooi! kee-ooi! that the hounds may not go too far astray, and the hounds reply with their la-ha-hoo! to let the hares know they are on their tracks. over fences, across brooks, taking to the cover of the woods, or speeding along the roads, it matters little how you get there, the object is to reach the point you have decided upon over the shortest route and in the least possible time. this is the fun of it, the wild scramble over all obstacles and the exultant moment when, if a hound, you have run down the hares or, if a hare, you outwit the hounds and make the home-run in safety. the game requires good generalship on both sides, quick thought and ready decision. how to dress. a short skirt, loose, stout walking shoes, and a sweater make the most comfortable costume. wraps will be found in the way and uncomfortably warm, and you cannot run very well in overshoes. if your feet get wet keep on running and you will not take cold, but have a change of foot-wear ready that you may replace wet shoes and stockings with dry ones as soon as you reach the house. also throw a wrap over you upon your return so that you may not cool off too suddenly after your long run. light bags for the hares to carry may be made of cotton cloth with straps of the same to throw over the shoulder. good health, good-fellowship, good-nature, and fair play are the requisites for the complete enjoyment of this most exhilarating of all games. index a adjusting warp, african hut, alligators, clay, amusements, mayday, andirons, anemones, angling, easter, animals, tissue-paper, apple, indian, apple, jap, apple-seeds, apple tower, apple toys, arch, door, armor, alligator, arrow-heads, arrow-shaft, arrows for mayday, assumption, cathedral of, b baby alligators, bag, school, bags, fortune, ball game, may, ball of twine, banana, clay, band, spinning-wheel, to adjust, banners, japanese fish, barrel-hoop, basket of shavings, basket, to make wood, basket, to weave splint, baskets as moulds, baskets, may, beads, bed, japanese, beds, blankets for dolls', bell and ball game, bellows, binding basket edges, binding off, "bird wish," birds, tissue-paper, , birds, to feed, bird's head, finger, birthday festivals, blackbirds, finger, blanket, navajo, , doll's bed, blood root, blouse, russian, boats, rose petals, body, alligator, bonnet, war, bonnet-wire stem, boots, russian, bouquet-holder, bow, bow case, bowls, bows for mayday amusements, breakfast, japan, broom, show, "build the tower," butt, rifle, button-mould, c calumet, calyx, tissue-paper, camp-fire, cap, rose petal, card-board, pot hooks of, carnation-pink, , case, handkerchief, cathedral of assumption, "chai," russian, chamois skin gown, chase, paper, chicken, tissue-paper, chieftain's shield, children, talking, chimney samovar, "chin chopper chin," churn, circle, to cut a, clay, clay alligators, cleaning for spinning-wheel, cloak, old colonial, cloth, magic, clothes-line, possibilities of, clover, four-leaved, coat of armor, alligator, coiled pottery, colonial kitchen, toy, colorless vases, combinations, flower, common grasses, conventional designs, cork churn lid, counter, store, cradle, papoose, crane, crazy bull, crosses, paper, crowding, flower, cupola, russian cathedral, curtain-bee frolic, curtain, sash, curtains, primitive reed, d daffodil, tissue-paper, dance, egg, dasher, churn, "deer," design, ornamental, designs, conventional, dinner, straw ride, distaff, doll, japanese, doll, russian, dolls' beds, blankets for, dolls, feast of, dolls' hammock, dolls, new race of, door-way, russian cathedral, door-way screens, dress, mary's, dress, may-pole to, dress, miss muffet's, dress, paper-chase, dutch windmill, e eagle feather of paper, easter egg games, edges, basket, egg games, elephant, tissue-paper, encampment, indian, end-pieces, f face, miss muffet's, false scent, faucet, samovar, feast of dolls, feather, eagle paper, feathers, for goose, fence, paper, fenced in garden, ferns, festivals, japanese, finger church, finger plays, finger steeple, fire, tissue-paper, fireplace, fish, japanese paper, five little pigs, flax, flintlock rifle, floors, japan paper house, floral tent, florida playhouse, floor, colonial kitchen, flower lifter, flowers, to arrange, folks, finger plays for little, food, alligator, fortune bags, four-leaved clover, fresh flowers, to arrange, fringe, to make hammock, frog, jumping, frolic, curtain-bee, frolic with roses, funny little apple toys, g games, egg, garden, fenced in, garden, rose girls, germantown wool for navajo blanket, ghost writing, girl, rose, gold nuggets, good indian, goose, mother goose's, gown, chamois skin, grass, napkin ring, grasses, common, grasshopper house, green leaf boat, green leaves, groceries, gun, flintlock, h hallowe'en revels, hammock, dolls', handkerchief case, handle, basket, handle, churn, hares, hut, african, hat, witch's, head, washington, headdress, indian, heddles, how to make loom, hepaticas, hibiscus, holder, bouquet, home-like rag rug, home-made loom, weaving on, hooks, pot, hounds, houses, japan paper, house, grasshopper, hub, spinning-wheel, i indian apple, indian encampment, indian pot, indian travois, j jap apple, japan, paper houses of, japanese doll, japanese paper, japanese umbrella, jars, flower, jumping frog, k kago, keeping store, king, may, kitchen, toy colonial, kneading clay, knitting needle, gun-barrel, "knives and forks," "here are my mother's," koi, japanese, kremlin, l lake, open air, lamb, mary's, lanterns, paper, leather boots, leaves, green, leaves, tissue-paper, legs, alligator, lifter, flower, lifting for pasch eggs, line, clothes, lingerie, miss muffet's, little apple toys, little bellows, little miss muffet, little paper houses, little pigs, famous five, loom, weaving on home-made, m magic cloth, marvel pictures, mary, material, reed curtain, mats, table, may baskets, mayday amusements, may-pole, menagerie, game of, miniature cathedral, miss muffet, tissue-paper, moccasins, modelling in tissue-paper, money, store, morning glory, tissue-paper, , mother goose's goose, mother's knives and forks, n navajo blanket, navajo blankets, nail, staple, napkin-ring, grass, nasturtiums, nature study, tissue-paper, netting, rope, nuggets, gold, o odd things in russia, odd utensils, odd colonial clock, old-fashioned flintlock rifle, old oaken bucket, open air lake, open air play houses, ornamental design, oven, p paint, for japan houses, painting, rose petals for, paper chase, paper houses of japan, paper lanterns, paper modelling, in tissue, paper, store wrapping, papoose, parker, thankful, party, rose girls, pasch eggs, pattern, blanket, "peel," pet turtle, pewter ware, picnic, straw ride, pictures, marvel, pigs, five little, pin loom, how to make, pine-shavings, pipe of peace, play house, open air, plays, finger, pocket-books, store, pole, may, possibilities of a clothes-line, pot hooks, pot, iron, pottery, practice on spinning-wheel, primitive reed curtains, q queen may, queer little teeter-tarter, r race of dolls, new, rag rug, home-like, rare frolic, reed curtains, primitive, revels, hallowe'en, rice ball, rifle, ring, grass napkin, "rock," roll, clay, roll of splint, rolling, egg, roof, russian cathedral, rookwood pottery, rope netting, rose girl, rose petal boats, rug, rules, pasch game, russia, odd things in, russian doll, s sally walker's hood, samovar, sash-curtain, scales, store, scent, false, school-boy, screens, doorway, seed-top grasses, shafts, arrow, shapes, pottery, shavings, armful of, shield, indian, shoes, miss muffet's, shovel, shuttle, sides, to weave basket, "simon says," spindle, spindle-frame, spinning, spinning wheel, spinning wheel, colonial kitchen, splint basket, to weave, splint, roll of, spokes, splint basket, staple-nail, straw, bonnet wire, store, keeping, stories, telling, stoves, russian, straw ride, straw ride picnic, study, tissue-paper, nature, sun-bonnet, mary's, sun-bonnet, miss muffet's, supplies, store, supplies, straw ride picnic, swift dog, swing, symmetry, t table egg rolling, table mats, table, moulding, talking children, tangle, word, targets, mayday, tassels, tea, how russians make, teeter tarter, tenor, singing, tent, floral, thankful parker, things to make of common grasses, thread, when broken, time-piece, old fashioned, tinfoil, tissue paper, moulding in, toaster, tomahawk, tools, moulding, tower, apple, tower, finger, toy colonial kitchen, toys, apples, toys, tissue-paper, transparent vases, travois, to make, tree, indian encampment, trimming, trousers, russian, turkey, tissue-paper, turning eagle, turtle, pet, twine, what may be made of ball of, u umbrella, japanese, umbrella play house, uprights, spindle-frame, utensils, colonial kitchen, v variety of candy, vases, vases, colorless, violets, w walker, sally, wampum, war bonnet, ware, pewter, warp, to adjust, washington, clay head of, weavers, weaving on home-made loom, weaving splint basket, weights, clock, wheel, spinning, white-ash splint, wig, miss muffet's, wigwam, playhouse, wigwam, to make, wild flowers, wild violets windmill, dutch, windows, russian cathedral, wing feathers, wish, bird, witch apple, wood-basket, wood chopper, finger, word tangle, woof, wool, germantown, wrapping paper, wreaths, rose petal, z zulu doll, the beard books for girls by lina and adelia b. beard handicraft and recreation for girls =with over illustrations by the authors= = vo. $ . net= an elaborate book for girls, by lina and adelia beard whose former books on girls' sports have become classic, which contains a mass of practical instruction on handicrafts and recreations. so many and so various are the things it tells how to do and make that it will give occupation to any sort of girl in all seasons and all weathers. "the girl who gets this book will not lack for occupation and pleasure."--_chicago evening post._ what a girl can make and do new ideas for work and play =with more than illustrations by the authors= =square vo. $ . net= this book is the result of the authors' earnest desire to encourage in their young friends the wish to do things for themselves. its aim is to give suggestions that will help them to satisfy this wish. within its covers are described a great variety of things useful, instructive, and entertaining, suited for both indoors and out. "it would be a dull girl who could not make herself busy and happy following its precepts."--_chicago record-herald._ the american girl's handy book how to amuse yourself and others =with nearly illustrations= = vo. $ . net= in this book lina and adelia beard, the authors, tell everything the girls of to-day want to know about sports, games, and winter afternoon and evening amusements and work, in a clear, simple, entertaining way. eight new chapters have been added to the original forty-two that made the book famous. "it is a treasure which, once possessed, no practical girl would willingly part with."--_grace greenwood._ things worth doing and how to do them with some drawings by the authors that show exactly how they should be done = vo. $ . net= this book by lina and adelia beard comprises an infinite variety of amusing things that are worth doing. some of these things are:--"a wonderful circus at home," "the wild west on a table," "how to weave without a loom," "how to make friends with the stars," "a living christmas tree," etc. "everything is so plainly set forth and so fully illustrated with drawings that the happy owners of the book should find it easy to follow its suggestions."--_new york tribune._ the beard books for boys by dan c. beard shelters, shacks, and shanties =illustrated by the author= =$ . net (postage extra)= he gives easily workable directions, accompanied by very full illustration, for over fifty shelters, shacks, and shanties, ranging from the most primitive shelter to a fully equipped log cabin. boys will find it an invaluable guide in constructing temporary or permanent shelters in their hikes or encampments. boat-building and boating a handy book for beginners =illustrated by the author= =$ . net= the directions for making boats are practical and illustrated by simple diagrams, and the work is full of new and suggestive ideas for all kinds of craft. the boy pioneers sons of daniel boone =illustrated by the author= =$ . net= "a book that is truly fine and will probably have a wider influence on the lives of boys into whose hands it falls than almost any other book that comes their way."--_the interior._ the field and forest handy book or, new ideas for out of doors =illustrated by the author= =$ . net= "instructions as to ways to build boats and fire-engines, make aquariums, rafts and sleds, to camp in a back-yard, etc. no better book of the kind exists."--_chicago record-herald._ the jack of all trades or, new ideas for american boys =illustrated by the author= =$ . net= "every boy who is handy with tools of any sort will enjoy this book."--_youth's companion._ "full of new ideas for active boys who like to use tools and see interesting things growing under their hands."--_new york tribune._ "a perfect treasure-house of things that delight the soul of a boy."--_the interior._ the outdoor handy book for playground, field and forest =illustrated by the author= =$ . net= "it tells how to play all sorts of games with marbles, how to make and spin more kinds of tops than most boys ever heard of, how to make the latest things in plain and fancy kites, where to dig bait and how to fish, all about boats and sailing, and a host of other things which can be done out of doors. the volume is profusely illustrated and will be an unmixed delight to any boy."--_new york tribune._ the american boys handy book or, what to do and how to do it =illustrated by the author= =$ . net= "it tells boys how to make all kinds of things-boats, traps, toys, puzzles, aquariums, fishing tackle; how to tie knots, splice ropes, make bird calls, sleds, blow guns, balloons; how to rear wild birds, to train dogs, and do a thousand and one things that boys take delight in. the book is illustrated in such a way that no mistake can be made; and the boy who gets a copy of this book will consider himself set up in business."--_the indianapolis journal._ charles scribner's sons * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors repaired. there is no figure . page xi, "witche's" changed to "witch's" (witch's hair) page xii, chapter xxvi, "play-house" and "play-houses" changed to "playhouse" and "playhouses" to match usage in text. page , "tanger" changed to "tanager" (cardinal, the scarlet tanager) page , "fellows" changed to "fellow" (little fellow differs) page , chapter xxiv came after the chapter title, finger-plays for little folks, in the original text. these were switched to follow the form of the rest of the book. page , "flay" changed to "fly" ("fly away, jill,") page , "payed" changed to "played" (easily played as the) page , "face, miss muffet's" was moved from the last place in the "e" section to the first place of the "f" section. page , the section titles for "i" and "j" were added to the text. page , since the text capitalizes all uses of pasch, the index was changed to reflect this (lifting for pasch eggs) and also on page (rules, pasch game) page , "pocketbooks" changed to "pocket-books" to match usage in text (pocket-books, store) page , "play-house" changed to "playhouse" to match usage in text (wigwam, playhouse) [transcriber's note: bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.] our little eskimo cousin the little cousin series _illustrated_ [illustration] by mary hazelton wade =our little japanese cousin= =our little brown cousin= =our little indian cousin= =our little russian cousin= =our little african cousin= =our little cuban cousin= =our little hawaiian cousin= =our little eskimo cousin= =our little philippine cousin= =our little porto rican cousin= =our little swiss cousin= =our little norwegian cousin= =our little siamese cousin= =our little italian cousin= =our little irish cousin= =our little turkish cousin= =our little german cousin= =our little jewish cousin= by isaac taylor headland =our little chinese cousin= by elizabeth roberts macdonald =our little canadian cousin= [illustration] each volume illustrated with six full-page plates in tint, from drawings by l. j. bridgman. cloth, mo, with decorative cover, per volume, cents. [illustration] l. c. page & company new england building, boston, mass. [illustration: etu] our little eskimo cousin by mary hazelton wade _illustrated by_ l. j. bridgman [illustration] boston l. c. page & company _mdccccii_ _copyright, _ by l. c. page & company (incorporated) _all rights reserved_ published, june colonial press electrotyped and printed by c. h. simonds & co. boston, mass., u. s. a. preface it is a very wonderful thing, when we stop to think of it, that no matter where we are placed in this great round world of ours, it seems just right to us. far away in the frozen north, where the lovely aurora borealis dances in the sky, where the long sunless winter night stretches halfway across the year, live a people who cannot keep themselves alive without working very hard. yet they are happy and fun-loving. they _make_ pleasures for themselves. they are patient and joyous in the midst of darkness and storm. they do not think of complaining at their hard lot, or that they do not live where nature is kinder and more generous. we call them eskimos. they belong to another race than ours,--a different branch of the great human family. they are yellow and we are white, to be sure. but we know that, no matter how far away any race of people lives, and no matter how different these people may be from us in looks and habits, they and we belong to the same great family. it includes every race and every colour, for we are the children of one father. what a pleasure it is, therefore, to travel from place to place and see more of the life of others! but suppose we cannot journey with our bodies; we need not stay at home on that account. let us use the wings of the mind, and without trouble or expense visit the hot lands and the cold, the yellow children and the red. let us know them and learn what they can teach us. contents chapter page i. baby days ii. mother and child iii. play-days iv. dog team and sledge v. kayak and harpoon vi. the seal hunt vii. feast and fun viii. hard times ix. an eskimo christmas x. summer travels list of illustrations page etu _frontispiece_ "he who hits the greatest number wins the game" "etu had become quite skilful" "whizz! sounds the harpoon as it speeds from etu's shoulder" "etu stopped moving and lay quite still" "the blocks of snow were handed to them" our little eskimo cousin chapter i. baby days. a pair of very bright black eyes peered out from the mother's hood that winter morning. the thermometer, if there had been one, would have shown the temperature to be seventy degrees below the freezing point. yet baby etu did not seem to care. he was nestled so warmly in the heavy furs, and felt so safe on his mother's broad back, that he laughed and crowed in pure delight. it was his first ride since he was born, and there was so much to look at! at least he thought so, though great sheets of snow stretched outward to the frozen ocean, and covered the land in every direction. the twinkling stars gave the only light for etu to see by, yet it was daytime. it was that part of the twenty-four hours when the baby's people did their work; and that must be called day in etu's far northern country, even though darkness covers all the land. for etu lives in the frozen zone, on the shores of northern alaska, and during the long winter of eight months the sun shows his face very little above the horizon. here and there the snow looked as if it had been raised into low mounds. near these mounds holes could be seen in the ground, and pathways dug out between them. there were no trees, no fences, no roads. where was the village, and where was the baby's home? those holes marked the entrances to the winter houses built by etu's father and his neighbours. the mounds were the coverings of the houses. great pits had been dug in the earth, and lined with driftwood which had floated on to the shore. jaws of whales made the framework of the roofs, these being covered with sods cut out of the marshy plains in summer. mother nature did the rest by protecting all with a warm close blanket of snow. at first it makes one shudder to think of living in such homes during the long arctic winter. but the eskimos are satisfied, and feel so comfortable that they remove a great part of their clothing while they are indoors. the houses are made so snug that the sharpest winds cannot enter, and they cost nothing but the labour of making them. etu's mother allowed him to stay out only a few minutes this first time. she soon turned toward home, and coming to her own doorway crawled down through a long slanting tunnel in the ground, eight or ten feet long. when she reached the end, she was obliged to stoop even lower, for now she must pass upwards through another passage. lifting a trap-door, she stepped at once into the middle of her own home. why was there such a queer entrance? because the wind must be kept out at all hazards. after all, it seemed easy and natural enough to this woman who had never known other and pleasanter hallways. how close it seemed after the fresh cold air outdoors! there was a strong odour of smoking oil. it was noisy, too, as other women and children were moving around inside, for the house was shared in common by several families who were friendly to each other, and enjoyed living together. etu's mother quickly took off her outer coat of sealskin, and, lifting her baby out of his warm nest, placed him on a platform which stretched along one side of the room. what a round, smiling dumpling he was! his face was broad and flat, while his little nose looked as though it had been punched inwards. his bright eyes were quite narrow. he wore a curious skin cap drawn tightly over the top of his head. he must keep this on night and day for a year, at least. it would make his forehead taper upward, and that is a mark of beauty among his people. as soon as he was born, the top of his head was pressed between his nurse's hands, and the cap fitted on at once so that his head might grow in the proper shape. after that operation he was taken outdoors, and rolled in the snow. i suppose that was to get him used to the cold climate of his birthplace. don't you? baby etu's skin was much whiter than his mother's,--very nearly as white, in fact, as your own little brother's. why has he changed so much since he has grown to be a big boy? listen to the strange reason. when our eskimo cousin was born, there was a small dark spot on his back. day by day it grew larger; the change came very slowly, so slowly it could scarcely be noticed. but at last the darker colour had spread over the boy's whole body, till his skin was nearly like that of his father and mother. in course of time it would grow darker still, because he did not wash himself. please don't be shocked. it is _so_ hard to get water in that frozen land. snow must first be melted, and to do this heat is required. heating requires the burning of oil, and oil is very precious. it is scarcely any wonder, therefore, that etu has not been taught to be cleanly in all ways. the smoky air of the home during the long winter months also made the boy's skin grow darker. sometimes during his babyhood his mother would wash him as a mother cat washes her kittens, but that was all he has ever known of the delights of a bath. the mother-love made that pleasant, perhaps, but we cannot envy him. it was quite surprising to an arctic explorer some years ago, when he discovered the difference soap and warm water would make in an eskimo's appearance. "why, you are almost a white man," he exclaimed, "your friends will think you have been changed into another being by some magical spell." and he laughed heartily when he thought of the only magic being soap and water. etu tumbled about on the sealskins which covered the platform, watching his mother while she trimmed the wick of the lamp. what an odd-looking lamp it was! it was made of a crescent-shaped stone hollowed out. think of the labour of making it! it must have taken days, and even weeks, before the cavity was hollowed enough to hold the oil. but etu's people are such patient workers they do not worry over the time they spend. moss was built up around the sides of the lamp; it served for the wick which spluttered away as the oil burned and warmed the room. a lump of seal fat, or blubber as it is called, hung over the lamp. as it melted slowly in the heat, it dripped down into the cavity and furnished a steady supply of oil. there were two other lamps burning in etu's home, for you must remember there was a very large family living here. and these queer lamps not only gave light and warmth to all these people, but the cooking must also be done over them. etu watched the light with blinking eyes for a few moments, and then fell fast asleep. only think of it, he was nearly naked! there was no covering on his tiny body except a short skirt of fur,--his arms and legs were quite bare, yet his loving mother did not hurry to cover him over. he must get used to cold while he was still small, so that when he grew older he could bear exposure better. chapter ii. mother and child. the mother was proud that this first baby was a boy. she liked to dream of what a great hunter he would become. in a few years he would do his part to keep the wolf from the door, in more senses than one. he would bring home the seal, the walrus, now growing so scarce, the grim white bear, and make many a feast for his people. oh, no, girls could never do such things as these! she was a happy woman, indeed. this eskimo mother had a pleasant, sunny face, even though the chin was tattooed with three long lines from the mouth downwards. she firmly believed that it would be looked upon as a sign of goodness, when she reached the next world. it might help in bringing her to heaven. the work was done by her own hands and must have been quite painful. the sinew of a reindeer furnished the thread which she blackened with soot. fastening it in her bone needle, she drew it under and through the skin till the lines were plainly marked. they would stay that way as long as she lived. she bustled about at her work without fuss or hurry. more than once the children playing in the room got in her way, but she did not scold nor even look cross. now and then a hungry-looking dog poked his head up through the doorway, only to be chased out of sight again when discovered. as she worked she joined in the laughter and talk of the women. hark! the sound of many feet could be heard, and the women and children stopped their chatter to welcome the men of the household, who had been away on a bear hunt for many hours. "what luck? what luck?" all said at once, but there was no story of brave fighting to tell this night; the long march over the icy plains had met with no reward. but there was no danger of starving at present, for great dishes of smoking seal soup stood ready for the hunters. in a few minutes all the household were squatting on the floor around the bowls. they ate the delicious supper to their hearts' content; and how they did eat! it seemed as though their stomachs must be made of elastic, for otherwise how were they able to stow away such immense quantities of the rich, fatty food? with etu's people it is either a feast or a famine all the time. they have no regular time to eat, no such thing as breakfast, dinner, and supper. if there is a good supply of food on hand, they will keep on eating hour after hour in a way to fill other people with wonder. but if there is nothing in the larder they are able to go several days without eating; yet they seem to keep well and strong. all were satisfied at last, and baby etu waked up in time to be held and petted for a while before bedtime. his mother did not have any dishes to wash, but before she could settle herself for the night she had to arrange a net over the seal-oil lamp, and spread her husband's wet clothing in it to dry. she must rouse herself during the night to watch and turn it from time to time, for that is a woman's work, she has been taught. but where were all these people going to stow themselves for sleeping? there was no sign of a bed in the whole house. that question was easily settled, for a portion of the platform was set aside for each family. they arranged their fur rugs upon it, and crept in side by side. then, taking off all their clothing, they buried themselves under the warm covers. first in order lay the father of a family, next came the mother, and close to her the youngest child was always nestled. baby etu slept, warm and safe, that night and many afterward. not once during the long winter did he cry from colic. as soon as he was able to sit up alone his mother gave him lessons in what he needed most,--strength of body, and ease in moving every muscle. she would sit on the floor or platform and stretch out her legs in front of her. then she would brace etu against her feet, and, holding his hands, would bend his arms in every possible direction. now they must be stretched upwards, now to the right, the left, behind him, and so on. this would make him agile in hunting. as soon as the baby could walk he began to have other exercises for his legs, for he must make a good runner and dancer, also. as soon as etu began to take more notice of those around him, he received many presents of toys. there were animals carved out of ivory,--tiny whales and walruses, baby seals and reindeer. he could not break them easily. they were fine things to press against his aching gums when the first teeth pushed themselves into sight. if he had been a girl he would have had an ivory doll, with a little dress of mouse skin, but, of course, a boy would not care for such a plaything. it was not to be thought of. soon the time came for his first suit of clothes, and, oh, how many days of patient work his mamma spent on those little garments! in the first place, there must be some long stockings of reindeer skin, so made that the hairy side lay next his body. after that came socks of the skin taken from eider-ducks. and outside of all he must wear stout boots of sealskin with soles of thick whale hide. he must draw these up to his hips over his two pairs of deerskin trousers, just as his father and mother themselves did. his jacket was made of reindeer skin, with a warm hood fastened to it to draw over his head while outdoors in the searching winds. it had no buttons either before or behind, but fitted quite loosely. some one asks: "how did he get into this garment, since there were no openings except for the neck and sleeves?" he slipped it down over his head, as american boys put on their jerseys. the skin had been tanned and stretched and softened so beautifully by his mother that it was quite easy to do this. the baby's jacket was shaped round exactly like his father's, while his mother's had a long pointed tail both in front and behind. besides this difference, her own jacket is always trimmed with a fringe of coloured beads bought of the traders. this fringe reaches around the neck, and also around both of the tails. it is very beautiful, her neighbours all declare. it seems quite wonderful to us that etu's boots could be perfectly water-tight, although they were home-made. this eskimo mother is such a fine seamstress with her coarse needle and thread, that a drop of water cannot enter the skin boots after her work is done. when his first suit was entirely finished, and etu was dressed, he was ready for the coldest weather. as soon as he could walk easily, he had no more need to ride in the warm hood on his mother's back. there were times before this, however, when he cried with the cold even in that snug place, and his mother had been obliged to stop in her walk, loosen her jacket, and slip the baby inside of all her clothing next to her own warm body. after that the crying would stop, and etu would coo softly as the two went on their way. how many things had to be done before the baby's suit was finished! in the first place, his papa must kill the animals which furnished the warm skins. but when that was done, _his_ work was over. it was his wife's turn now. she removed the skins from the dead reindeer and seal, and stretched them out to dry, with the hairy side toward the earth. after a few days they were ready for her to begin the hardest part of the task. they must be scraped with a sharp knife until every atom of flesh should be removed, as well as the inner tough skin. now they were flexible enough for all the clothing except the stockings, and these must be very soft indeed for the tender baby feet. a piece of the skin of a baby deer was chosen by the careful mother, who next proceeded to chew it, inch by inch. her teeth were beautifully white and sharp, but the work was done so carefully that no hole, nor even mark, could be seen in the skin when it was finished. she was ready now to cut out the various garments with her odd scissors,--but, after all, it is wrong to call the queer knife she uses by the name of scissors. she speaks of it as an "oodlo," and it is useful in so many ways, she really could not keep house without it. it is shaped much like your mother's meat-chopper. it is made of bone edged with iron, and when etu's mother cuts with it, she moves it away from her in a way which looks very awkward to us. it not only takes the place of scissors, but is the hatchet, the knife, and also scraper with which the flesh is removed from the skins. chapter iii. play-days. month after month passed by with baby etu. the little round ball grew into a sturdy boy, who delighted in rough plays outdoors, as well as many indoor games, when the storms raged too greatly for him to leave the house. his mother never refused him anything possible to get. he was never scolded or punished, so it is no wonder he grew up kind and honest and truthful. and laugh? why, you can't imagine how many things there are for eskimo children to laugh about. in that cold and dreary land one would expect to see long faces, and hear people constantly groaning and complaining; but, instead of that, these people of the far north may be said to be ever "on the grin," as travellers there have often expressed it. and etu was like the rest of his people. he was always finding some new source of fun and pleasure. when he was still a tiny baby, left to amuse himself on the platform inside the house, he would watch for the dogs to appear in the passageway, and throw his ivory toys at them. then he would laugh and shake his sides as they dodged the play-things and scampered away. sometimes one of the older children would bring him a ball of snow or ice and teach him to kick it into the air again and again, without touching it with his hands, yet keeping it in motion all the time. when he grew older and braver he allowed himself to be tossed up in the air in a blanket of walrus hide. he must keep on his feet all the time, and not tumble about in the blanket. after awhile he could go almost to the roof and back again, holding himself as straight as a little soldier. [illustration: "he who hits the greatest number wins the game"] of course he slid down-hill and had any amount of sport, but the sled was generally the seat of his own deerskin trousers. he and his playmates liked to start from the top of an icy hill, and vie with each other in reaching the foot. sometimes the little fellows would double themselves up so they looked like balls of fur, then down the hill they would roll, over and over, one after another. and when they reached the bottom and jumped upon their feet, what a shouting there would be as they shook themselves and brushed off the snow! now that etu is a big boy, he plays still another game on the snowy hillsides. his father has killed a great number of reindeer, and the boy is allowed to have all the antlers he wishes. when the boys want to play the reindeer game, as we may call it, they set up the antlers in the snow, a short distance apart from each other. then they climb the hill again, and, seating themselves on their sleds, slide down past the antlers. they must steer clear of them and reach the foot without running into a single one. at least, that is the game, and the ones who do so successfully are the winners. but what kind of a sled do you think etu uses? it is simply a cake of ice; if you stop to think a moment, you can imagine how swiftly and smoothly it travels along. there is a still different game of reindeer-hunting which requires more skill. this time etu and his playfellows arm themselves with bows and arrows. as they coast rapidly past the reindeer antlers, they shoot at them and try to leave their arrows fixed in as many as possible. of course, he who hits the greatest number wins the game. this is exciting sport indeed, and etu will go home afterward ready to eat such a quantity of frozen seal blubber as to make the eyes of any one but an eskimo open wide with wonder. eskimo, i just said; but etu does not call himself by that name. he will tell you that he is one of the innuits, as his father has taught him. the word "innuit" means "people." etu's mother has told him of an old, old legend of her race, about the creation of the world. at first human beings were made white, but they were not worthy of their maker. then others were created who were the true people, or the innuits. the word eskimo means "eater of raw fish." it was given to these natives of the far north by the travellers who came among them and observed their queer ways of living and eating. "raw meat! raw fish!" they exclaimed among themselves. "these are indeed queer people who enjoy such food in a freezing climate." so it came about that they spoke of them as eskimos, and the name has clung to etu's people ever since. the boy remembers well his first candy. he had been ill, but was getting strong once more. his good patient mother wished to bring a smile to his pale face, so while he was sleeping she prepared a surprise. she took the red feet of a bird called the dovekie, and, drawing out the bones, blew into the skin until it was puffed out as full as possible. then she poured melted reindeer fat into these bright-colored pouches, and the candy-bags were finished. etu's eyes grew suddenly bright when they opened upon the surprise prepared for him. it did not take many minutes, you may well believe, for every bit of this odd candy to disappear. you may like chocolate creams and cocoanut cakes, and think them the greatest treat in the world, but in etu's opinion there is nothing better than a big lump of seal blubber or the marrow from the inside of a deer's bones. when he had his first bow and arrow, it was a very tiny one. he learned to shoot at a target inside his winter home. his mother would hang up pieces of fat meat across the room where he sat, and he would try very hard to pierce them. if he succeeded, he could have the meat to eat, so of course he tried very hard. at other times he would sit watching for a dog to push his head up through the doorway, and let fly the arrow at him. at first this seems like a very cruel sport, but the arrow was blunted and very small; it could not do much harm, even if it struck the dog, who would bound away out of sight only to appear again in a few moments. of course, etu has played ball all his life, but his ball is of a different kind from yours. it is made of sealskin. sometimes he will try with other boys to knock it about so continually that it is kept in the air for a long, long time without falling. at other times all engage in a grand game of football, but, according to their ideas, the children must on no account touch the ball with their hands. that would be a "foul play," as you boys would say. by their rules it can only be kicked. in the long winter evenings there is still more fun. in etu's big household old and young gather around the dim, smoky lamp and tell stories. there are such wonderful adventures to relate of daring deeds on sea and land. etu listens breathless to tales of the white bear surprised in his den, of long tramps after prey, when life depended on fresh supplies, and king frost was striving to seize the weakened bodies of the hunters. then there are quaint legends and fairy tales, besides stories of wondrous beings in the unseen world around. some of these beings are good, and some bad. etu does not like to hear about these last, and tries to put them out of his mind when he is travelling alone. but the evenings are not wholly given to story-telling, for the people are fond of music. they like dancing, also, for it makes them feel jolly and gay. they pass many an hour singing monotonous songs which they think very sweet, but which we would think tiresome. sometimes when etu's mother has finished her work for the day, she gathers the children of the house around her, and shows them how to make wonderful figures with strings of deer's sinews. you all know the game of cat's cradle; well, it is something like that, only very much harder. the woman fastens the string back and forth on her son's hands, then weaves it quickly in and out; before one knows it, she has shaped it into the body of a musk ox. a few more changes are made, when, behold! it is no longer a musk ox, but has become a reindeer or a seal. it requires a great deal of skill to do this, but etu can make nearly as many figures as his mother, although she has had so many years of practice. chapter iv. dog team and sledge. when he was three years old, our little northern cousin had his first and only pets. they were two little puppies left without any mother. they looked like baby wolves with their sharp, pointed noses, erect ears, and furry backs; but they were very cunning, and amused their little master all day long. when night came they crept under the heavy covers, and lay close to etu's feet while he slept, keeping him as warm and comfortable as he could possibly desire to be. but, like all other pets, these puppies _would_ grow up, and then their work in life began as well as etu's. they must be trained to draw a sledge, for they must be able to carry their young master on long journeys over the snowy plains. etu's mother made him some reins to be fastened to the dogs' necks. she placed the ends in the hands of her little boy, who sat on the platform, holding a whip. he must learn to manage the team, he must teach the dogs to obey his voice, to move to the right or the left, as he directed; in short, to understand that he was truly their master. every new birthday two more dogs were given to etu, and it became his duty to feed and train them to be in readiness when he was old enough to hunt with his father. do not imagine for a moment that this was an easy matter. no white man has ever yet, i believe, found himself able to manage a pack of eskimo dogs. each one is fastened to the sledge by a single cord, and, as they hurry onward at the sound of their master's voice, it seems as though there were the most dreadful confusion. one dog, wiser and cleverer than the rest, is always chosen as the leader; his rein is a little longer than the others. he is always the one that listens most closely to the directions given, turning his head backward from time to time to look at his master, and make sure that he is right. then onward he dashes, the other dogs following close at his heels. [illustration: "etu had become quite skilful"] etu spent some time in deciding which dog was the best out of his own pack, but when he was quite sure of vanya's strength and brightness he gave him the greatest care and attention of all. but the whip! it was far harder to learn its use than to master all his other lessons. the handle was only six inches long, while the lash was at least sixteen feet. to throw it out and then bring it back without letting it become entangled among the legs of two or three dogs was a difficult task. but to be sure of striking only the one for whom it was intended, was a far harder thing to learn. even when etu had become quite skilful, it seemed as though every time he rode away he must come home with at least one broken bone. for as the dogs gradually gained in speed, and one or another received a stroke of the whip to remind him of his duty, he would jump wildly around. perhaps he would upset two or three others in an instant. then there would be such a yelping, and such a breaking of reins would follow, it seemed impossible for etu to straighten them out again, and harder still it must have been for him to keep his seat, and not be thrown off. but the boy loves the work, and nothing pleases him more than to be sent twenty miles to a neighbouring village on an errand for his father. in the winter season, when the dogs are not working, they are sometimes allowed to stay in the passageway leading to the house. and you already know that they try again and again to make their way inside. the burning lamp gives such pleasant warmth, and the smell of the seal or reindeer meat is so tempting that they are willing to run the chance of the blows they are almost sure to get for being so daring. they are warmly clothed, however, and can bear the most terrible weather without harm coming to them. beneath the long hair a heavy soft wool grows in the winter time, and protects their bodies from the icy cold. it is etu's duty to feed all the dogs of the household. it does not take a great amount of his time, for the poor hard-working creatures have only one meal in two days! if there is danger of a famine, and provisions are scarce, they are fed but once in three days. this is during the winter, moreover, for in summer they are expected to provide for themselves, getting fish from the shallow beds of the rivers, killing birds as they alight on the shore, catching baby seals, and getting reindeer moss or lichens from the rocks. it is fun to watch etu on feeding day. he gathers the dogs around him in a wide circle, and tosses first to one, then to another, his strip of sealskin. if a dog moves from his place or jumps out of turn to receive his food, he is only rewarded by a lash of the whip, instead of the longed-for meat. so by long experience they have learned to wait patiently. these eskimo dogs must have wonderful stomachs to digest the tough food on which they live. it is simply impossible to chew the strips of skin, so they are swallowed whole. sometimes a young dog chokes over his hard work, and coughs up his precious bit, only to have it snatched away from him by one of his neighbours. we feel like pitying these dogs of the cold lands. they are deeply devoted to their masters, yet a word of kindness is rarely spoken to them. their work is hard, and their food is scant. in winter they must draw the sledges, and in summer, as their masters travel from place to place, they are laden with heavy packs which they carry cheerfully. this reminds me that when etu played "horse" in his early days, it wasn't _horse_, after all; it was _dog_, instead, for the eskimo dog is the only horse of the far north. when etu was old enough to drive a team of a dozen dogs, he had reached his tenth birthday. his father said to him then: "now, etu, you are old enough to make your own sledge. you have often helped me, but now you are able to do the work alone." our little cousin set manfully to work at once. it was so nice to think of having a sledge for his very own, and one that he had made himself, too. it was not a very hard task, once he had gathered his materials together. the jawbones of a whale were used for the framework and runners. sealskin was fitted over this framework, and a little seat made from which etu's legs hung over in front when he was driving. "but will the bone runners travel swiftly enough over the snow?" some one asks. "not unless they are properly iced," etu would answer. every time the boy starts out on a journey, he must prepare the runners afresh by squirting water upon them from his mouth. a coating of smooth ice is formed almost instantly, which will last for a short distance. then it must be renewed. soon after etu's sledge was completed, he was sent by his father to look for seal-holes along the coast. it was a bright, clear day, and, although it was fifty degrees below zero, the boy enjoyed his ride; he had no thought of cold, as there was only a slight wind blowing. he journeyed on and on, his bright eyes watching for signs of seals beneath the snow-covered ice. he did not realise how far he was from home. he was many miles away, when a strong wind suddenly arose. how it cut his cheeks and bit his nose! he knew he must turn back at once or he might be overcome. brave boy as he was, there would keep entering his mind the thought of a neighbour who was frozen while travelling in just such weather. when his sledge arrived at his own doorway, there sat the man in his seat, straight and stiff; but the reins were tightly held in dead hands. the dogs had kept on their way unharmed, while the driver gradually lost all knowledge of them, and of this world. etu put his gloved hand to his nose again and again, to make sure it was all right; it was such an easy thing for it to freeze without his knowledge. and now his hands began to grow numb, and then his feet, although he often sprang from his sledge to run with the dogs and jump in the snow. ah, that icy wind! would it never stop? the boy's eyes became blinded, and at last he thought: "it is of no use. i don't care very much, anyway. i begin to feel so queer and stupid. what does it mean?" that was the last he knew till he awoke in his own home to find his mother bending over him; she was rubbing him with balls of snow, and looking very, very anxious. how the blood tingled through his body, as it began to move freely once more! but he was safe now, and could no longer feel the terrible wind blowing against him. it was a narrow escape for etu. it was well for him that he was within a mile of the village when he lost the power to think. the dogs kept on their way, and brought him quickly to his own home. chapter v. kayak and harpoon. when etu was only nine years old he began to go out upon the ocean, fishing and shooting with his father. of course he was allowed to go on calm days only. years of practice would be needed before he could be trusted to manage his boat in winter storms, or risk his life in seal hunting. when he was eleven years old, however, he had learned to paddle very well, and, besides, he had grown to be such a big boy that his father said: "you must have a new kayak, etu; your mother will help you make it. you have outgrown the other, and it is not safe." it was one of etu's duties to watch for all the driftwood floating in toward shore. every piece is more precious to these people of the north than we can imagine. they have no money, but if they could express the value of the bits of driftwood in dollars and cents, we would be amazed. some of us, i fear, would feel like carrying a shipload of lumber to etu's people and making a fortune very easily. when our little eskimo wished to begin the making of his boat, he went first to the family treasure house. of course you can guess what was stored there. not diamonds and pearls, nor gold and silver; but simply--driftwood. etu chose with much care the pieces from which to make a stout framework for his boat. it was important that he should take light wood that had not lost its strength by drifting about in the water too long. he cut the strips with a bone knife and bound them into shape with strong cords of seal sinew. the ends of the boat were sharply pointed. his mother's work began now. she took the skins of seals which her husband had just killed and scraped away all the scraps of blubber and flesh left on the hides. then, rolling them tightly together, she left them for some days. when they were again unrolled, it was quite easy to scrape off the hairs with a mussel shell. after this, the skins were well washed in sea water. a very important step must be taken next. the skins must be stretched. etu's first boat must be a fine one and there must be no wrinkles in the covering. the safest way was to stretch them over the framework of the boat itself. then they would be sure to fit well. an eskimo woman feels very much ashamed if any part of the boat's covering is loose or wrinkled. people will think she is a poor worker, and that would be a sad disgrace. how did etu's mother manage to make the boat water-tight? it was done through her careful sewing. she worked with her coarse bone needle, and the sinews of seal and deer were the only thread; yet when the kayak was finished, not a single drop of water could enter. it was a clever piece of work. where was etu to sit in this wonderful boat? the deck was entirely covered excepting the small hole in the centre. the boy had measured this hole with great care when he made the framework of the kayak. it was just large enough for him to squeeze through. his feet and legs must be underneath the deck, and his thighs should fill up the hole exactly. now you understand why the boy's father spoke of his outgrowing the old boat. do you also see why there was no larger hole? think for a moment of the waters through which he must ride. our rough seas would seem calm to etu. if the deck were not covered, the dashing waves would swamp his boat almost instantly. his people had found this out for themselves; so they cleverly planned a boat different from that of any other in the world. etu made a stout paddle with two blades. it is a pleasure for his mother and her friends to watch him use it. he is very skilful, and now, at twelve years of age, he can make the kayak skim over the water like the wind. how straight he always sits! he balances the boat exactly and first bends the right blade into the water, then the left, without seeming to work hard, either. and in some wonderful way, one can hardly understand how, he speeds onward. no wonder it is such a pleasure to watch him. etu is very proud of his paddle; not because he made it, but because of the time his mother spent in decorating it. it is inlaid with bits of stone and ivory set in a pretty pattern. surely, his mother is a fine worker. she has just made him a present of a new pair of gloves. they are to be worn while he is out in his boat, and reach above his elbows. they will protect his arms and keep them dry, even if the waves sweep clear over him. but they are not like common gloves, for they are embroidered in a fine pattern. she cut out bits of hide and dyed them different colours. then she sewed them together in a neat design on the arm pieces of the gloves. shouldn't you call that embroidery? while etu's boat was being made, his mother had a party. perhaps it would be better to call it a "sewing-bee." etu was sent around to the different women in the village. he told them his mother was ready to sew the covering on his boat. would they like to help her? now there is nothing eskimo women like better than to come together for a friendly chat. so the invitation was accepted, and one morning, bright and early, a party of women could be seen gathered around the sealskins. their fingers worked swiftly, but i fear their tongues moved still faster. there was a great deal of laughter, for they seemed to have many funny stories to tell. and i don't believe there was a bit of unkind gossip; at least, their faces didn't show it. it was amusing to see how much their teeth were used. they were like another hand to these eskimo women, for, as they sewed, they held the piece of skin in its place with their teeth. when the covering must be stretched over this hard place or that edge, it was the teeth again that gave the needed help. etu knows one old woman whose teeth are worn almost down to the gums. she must have worked very hard all the years of her life. she must have sewed on many boat-coverings and made many suits of clothes before this could have been done. when etu's kayak was finished, his mother invited the workers up to the house, where they were treated to a dish of seal-blood soup and a pipe of tobacco. it was a grand surprise. in the first place, the heated blood of the seal is always a dainty; and then, they seldom had the privilege of smoking tobacco. it was a great rarity, for it could only be obtained through trade with the white people. when night came, all were in great good humour as they left for their own homes. but, as they stepped outdoors, what a beautiful sight met their eyes! the northern lights were shooting across the heavens in glorious colours. have you never noticed on cold winter nights lines of light shooting upward into the sky? it is always in the north that we see them, and we wonder and exclaim as we look. your mother tells you, "it is the _aurora borealis_." it is not fully known what causes the strange light. it is thought, however, to be electricity. in etu's land the aurora is far more wonderful and beautiful than with us. the visitors were used to such sights, yet they called to the boy and his mother to come outdoors and look. "the lights are brighter than i ever saw them in my life," exclaimed one of the women. at first it seemed as though there were a great cloud of light just above the horizon, but it suddenly changed till the heavens appeared to be alive. the very air around the people quivered, as long, bright lines shot upward across the sky. they changed so quickly, it seemed as though a mighty power was directing them about, now here, now there. it made one dizzy to watch them. now there would be streamers of green and red and blue darting from the sky-line way to the very zenith. there they would meet in a purplish crown of glory. again the sky would change in its appearance, and a red light would spread over all. it was so bright that the snow in every direction was tinted a rosy colour. "what makes it, mother?" whispered etu. "is it the work of good spirits, or are evil ones trying to show us their power?" "i do not know, my child," was the answer. "we are not wise, and cannot understand these things. come, let us go back into the house. the sight makes me fearful." etu had many finishing touches to put on his boat after it was covered. a wooden hoop must be fitted around the hole in which he was to sit. several thongs of seal hide must be fastened on the deck, under which his spear and harpoon should rest while he paddled. still other straps were bound to the sides of the deck, for, unless the birds or seals could be fastened to the boat in some way after they had been killed, how could they be towed home? then etu began to work on his harpoon. his father had to help him now, for it needed skill and care to fit it exactly to the throwing-stick. the eskimos long ago found that the bow and arrow were not useful in their narrow, dangerous boats. only a one-handed weapon can be used in such a place, so they invented the harpoon and the bird dart. the harpoon is a long piece of wood pointed with bone or iron. it is fastened into a handle of wood called a throwing-stick. a cord of seal hide is attached to it at the other end. you should see our stout little etu riding the waves in his kayak, and balancing the throwing-stick on his shoulder to send the harpoon flying straight to the mark. but suppose the harpoon lodges fast in the seal's body; if the hunter still holds the other end of the cord attached to it, the creature in his fury may make such plunges as to drag the boat and all down under the water and destroy them. something else must be invented. this was the buoy or float. so it was that etu had to make a buoy to complete his hunting outfit. he took the skin of a young seal, from which his mother had scraped off all the hairs, and tied up the holes made by the head and legs. through a small tube fastened in the skin he could blow up his queerly shaped buoy to its fullest size. now the float was completed. do you understand what help it would give? if the float is attached to the other end of the line when the harpoon is thrown, the hunter can let everything go. he does not need to have any part fastened to the boat. for the float cannot sink, and will show him where to follow the game, and where to throw next; yet he is himself in no danger of being pulled after the animal. even now etu would not be safe to go hunting in rough waters. he must have a special coat prepared. this, again, was his mother's work. the skin of the seal was used after all the hair was removed. the jacket was made to fit closely over his other garments. it had a hood to be drawn tightly over his head, long sleeves, and drawing-strings around the neck and lower edge. when etu gets into his boat he must fit his jacket around the hoop of the sitting-hole, and draw the cord tightly. and now he seems a part of the boat itself. no water can enter, and although the waves may dash completely over him he will keep dry, and the boat will not sink. no boy could be happier than etu was when his outfit was complete. he ran to meet his father to tell him the joyful news. now he could be looked upon as a man, no longer a child. he would hereafter be allowed to take part in the dangers of his father's life. he was very glad. this happy, good-natured boy, who disliked to say a cross word to any one, who would not fight with other boys, was certainly no coward. for his heart was set upon war,--not war with his fellows, but war with the winds and waves, and the powerful creatures of sea and land. he was ready for battle. time would show that courage was not wanting when he came face to face with danger. chapter vi. the seal hunt. it was about this time that etu's father bored holes in his son's lips. these holes were made at each end of the mouth. ivory buttons were fitted into them, and now etu felt that he was more of a man than ever before. it was a proud moment when he looked in the bit of mirror his father had bought for ten seal hides, and gazed on his queer ornaments. he thought they were very beautiful, and then they fitted so well! the pain of having the holes bored, and the unpleasant feeling before the flesh healed, were of little matter to him. it was not worth thinking about. it was a terrible winter, and food was scarce. there was a very small supply of meat on hand in the village. the first pleasant morning after etu's fishing outfit was finished, he started off for a day's hunt on the ocean. very early in the morning he and his father went out on the rocks to look for the weather signs. yes, it would be a clear day; it would be safe to venture on the waves. the other men of the village were already out, and soon all were busy launching their boats. no breakfast was eaten; they could work better and shoot straighter if they waited to eat until they came back. each one of the party carefully arranged his harpoon, spear, and float on the deck of his boat; then, shoving it into the icy water, sprang in after it and quickly fitted himself into the small seat. the sea jacket must be drawn carefully around the hoop, for, if water should enter, the boat would soon sink. as the hunters paddled merrily along, the waves kept dashing over the decks. but the men sang and shouted gaily to each other as though it were the finest sport in the world. yet it was a lonely scene about them; we should even call it fearful. cakes of ice jostled against the boats here and there, and far out in the dim light a floating field of ice could be seen by the watchful eskimos. sometimes they hunted for the seals on such fields, for these creatures often gather in herds on the ice to bask in the sun and to sport together. but to-day they would search for them in the ocean itself. the boats skimmed onward over the waves till the land lay far behind. three hours passed before the seal ground was reached. etu paddled steadily and kept up with the men who had so much more experience than himself. as his father watched him from time to time, he thought, "my boy will be a leader for his people when i grow old and weak. i have never before seen one so young show such strength." [illustration: "whizz! sounds the harpoon as it speeds from etu's shoulder"] etu's father was held to be the best huntsman of the village, and for this very reason was looked upon as the chief. the eskimos share everything in common, but one man in a settlement is chosen as the leader. he settles the disputes and gives advice when it is needed. he directs the hunt and judges the wrong-doer. when he fails in strength it is but right that another should be chosen in his place. when the seal ground was reached at last, the men moved away from each other in different directions; the singing and shouting stopped as they rested on their paddles and watched for seals' heads to appear above the water. etu's father kept quite near him; he might be needed to help his son in case he was successful. ten minutes passed, then twenty, thirty, but the boy did not grow impatient. his bright eyes watched closely, scanning the water in all directions. at last he was rewarded, for look! there is a brown head rising into view. the seal is easily frightened, and darts out of sight when he sees the boy in the boat. but etu does not move a muscle till the seal has disappeared. then he paddles rapidly toward the spot where the creature sank out of sight and once more quietly waits, but this time with harpoon in hand. seals are able to stay under water for twenty minutes at a time. they can close their nostrils whenever they choose, and they breathe very slowly at all times. but they must come to the surface after a time for fresh air. etu knows this and watches. ah! the water moves again. the prey is to be seen and is but a short distance away. whizz! sounds the harpoon as it speeds from etu's shoulder and goes straight to the mark. quick as a flash the float is thrown from the boat, and the coil of rope fastened to it runs out as the seal drags it along. he throws himself about in agony, but cannot free himself from the cruel harpoon lodged in his side. the water is stained with blood. now the float can be seen on the surface of the waves, now it is dragged below as the seal dives out of sight; but etu does not worry. he must paddle far enough away from the seal, however, to keep out of danger. for although it is usually a timid and gentle creature, yet, when it is attacked, it grows daring and dangerous. etu knows of several hunters whose boats have been ripped open by seals; they would have been killed by their angry foes if their comrades had not come to their rescue. the boy has listened to stories of such narrow escapes ever since he was old enough to understand these things. so he is very quick and watchful. he does not notice that his father has drawn quite close, and sits, spear in hand, ready to end the seal's life if his son should fail. and now the wounded animal appears again directly in front of the boat. a good chance must not be lost, and etu, seizing his spear, drives it straight through one of the flippers. it pierces the seal's lungs, and after a few gasps the beautiful soft eyes close in death. "well done, my boy," shouted his father. "you have won the first prize of the day. you shall treat our friends." now it is a custom among these people of the cold lands that when a seal is killed the successful hunter at once cuts away a portion of blubber, and divides it among the rest of the party. etu, therefore, pulled the dead seal close to his boat, drew out the spear and harpoon, and coiled the cord attached to it. after putting these in their proper places on the deck of the kayak, he cut away the blubber, and proudly distributed the treat among the men, who by this time had drawn near. it was at least noontime, and was the first food tasted that day. every one praised the boy's skill, and then all drew off once more to their different stations. before the afternoon was over, etu's father had secured two seals, and two more were killed by others of the party. it had been a most successful hunt, although several accidents had occurred. one of the seals captured by etu's father had succeeded in tearing the float into shreds before he was finally killed. another of the hunters was overturned and almost drowned. this was because the cord attached to the harpoon had caught in a strap on the deck as it was running out. the wounded seal dragged him along as it plunged, before he had a chance to free his boat. over they went, man and boat, and only the keel of the kayak could be seen. the seal, too, was out of sight. did it see the man? was it attacking him below the surface of the water? three of the man's companions paddled rapidly toward the overturned boat. one of them reached his arm down under the water and, giving a skilful jerk to the man's arm, brought him up suddenly on even keel. another of the party cut the cord with his spear. still a third found the paddle, of which he had lost hold, and gave it into his hands. then all started off in pursuit of the seal as though nothing had happened. you must ask etu to tell you more of the wonderful doings of that first ocean hunt. he will never forget even the smallest thing which happened on that day. it was near night when the party started homeward, and three good hours of paddling were before them. at length, however, the shore came into view. nearer and nearer it looked to the tired workers. and yes! there were the women waiting and watching, ready for the good news. etu was not the first to land, for you remember he had a seal in tow, and those who are so burdened cannot travel as quickly over the water as others who have no extra weight. he travelled homeward beside his father's still more heavily laden boat; while both the man and his son pictured the mother's delight at etu's success. as the boats landed, one by one, the men jumped out, and started for home with their weapons. the women would draw up the boats into safe places. they would also dispose of the seals. the men's work was done, and nothing was left for them now except to sit around the oil lamp, eat, and tell stories of the day's adventures. this very night there would be a seal feast at etu's home, and hours would be given up to eating and making merry. chapter vii. feast and fun. it did not take long for the hunters to exchange their wet clothing for dry garments. then with their wives and children they gathered in the home of their chief. "how could the feast be prepared so quickly?" we ask in surprise. if we could have been there we should not have wondered very long. the people squatted on the floor in a circle. etu and his father stood in their midst with big knives, ready to cut up the seals lying before them. hungry as they were, they must not eat yet. something important must be done first. the eskimos have many strange beliefs. they think there is a spirit in everything,--the rock, the snow, the wind, the very air has its spirit. the seal, therefore, has its spirit, too, and must be treated respectfully. etu's father solemnly sprinkled water on the body, while every one watched him in silence. it was an offering to the animal's spirit. he next carefully cut away the skin and showed the thick layer of blubber beneath. the eyes of the company sparkled with delight. many funny faces were made as each in turn received a huge chunk of raw blubber. please don't shudder at the thought of eating it. white travellers among the eskimos tell us it is really very good, and tastes much like fresh cream. it is only after it has been kept for a long time that it begins to taste rancid and fishy. after the blubber had been divided among the company, the bodies of the two seals were opened, and the blood scooped out. it seemed truly delicious to the hungry visitors. the last course of the feast consisted of the seal's ribs, which were picked until nothing was left save the bones. how the people did eat! how they enjoyed the dainties served to them! there were many stories told by those who could stop long enough to talk. etu was asked, over and over again, to describe how he killed his first seal. and each time the movements of his face, as well as his arms and hands, seemed to express as much as the words themselves. at this strange feast, for which no cooking was needed, the women were not served first, as in our own land. it was the men who were first thought of, and who received the choicest pieces. but etu did not forget his mother, and looked out to see that she was well served. when the feast was over at last, all joined in a song. there were only a few notes, and these were repeated over and over again; but the party must have enjoyed it, or they would not have sung it so many times. at last the moon shone down upon them, and etu's mother hastened to draw the sealskin curtain. for her people dread the power of the moon, and do not willingly sit in its light. it is a wonderful being, and etu has been taught that it brings the cold weather to his people. how is this possible? why, as it dwells afar off in the sky, it whittles the tusk of a walrus. in some wonderful way the shavings are changed into the snow which falls in great sheets over the earth. by this time the party began to think of going home. they must prepare for another "sleep," they said, and the people of the house were soon left to themselves. etu does not count time as we do. he speaks of a "moon" ago, instead of a month. yesterday is the period before the last "sleep," and the years are counted by the winters. a fresh notch is cut in the wall of his winter home when the family leave it for their summer's travels. that is the only way his people have to keep account of the passing time. they do not write or read, except as they are taught by their white visitors, and etu has never seen a book in his life. the boy's father has shown him how to make good maps of the coast. they are very neat, and are measured so exactly that every island and point of land are correctly marked for many miles. they are drawn with the burnt ends of sticks on smooth pieces of driftwood, but if you ever visit etu, you can trust to them in exploring the country. on the day after the feast the other seals were divided evenly among all the people in the village. the successful hunters did not once dream of keeping them for their own families. what! have a fine dinner yourself, while others around you go hungry! it was not to be thought of. all must share alike. chapter viii. hard times. time passed by. the weather was terribly cold, even for these people. the hunters went out on the ocean whenever it was safe to venture, but the seals and walruses were very scarce. they had probably gone in search of warmer waters. at this very time their winter stores were all stolen. whenever there is an extra supply on hand, it is hidden in a deep hole underground, so that neither wild animals nor dogs can reach it. such a place for stores is called a _caché_ by our western hunters and trappers. one night etu was wakened by a great noise outside. in a moment the whole household was aroused. they heard the dogs howling and rushing around. there was certainly a fight of some kind. etu and his father were dressed in a moment, as well as two other men who shared the home. "wolves! it is a pack of wolves," cried the women. "don't go out and leave us; it is not safe." but the men only seized their spears and moved as quickly as possible down the passageway. they must go to the aid of the dogs, who had been left outdoors for the night. they also thought of their precious stores. the wolves had probably scented the place and were then attacked by the dogs. in a short time the men returned to the frightened household. they were all safe. the wolves had fled, but the harm had already been done. not a scrap of the precious stores remained. the dogs had finished what the wolves left behind them. it was the quarreling of the dogs themselves over the food that had wakened the people. it was plain, however, that the wolves had been there, because the dead body of one of them lay close by the storehouse. the dogs had been more than a match for them. there was nothing for etu and his people to eat that day. there was scarcely any oil in the lamps. the women and children tried to keep warm beneath the piles of furs; the men went out to search along the shore for seal holes. our brave little etu looked upon himself as a man now. so, leading his brightest dog by a cord, he started out in search of prey. the dog had a wonderfully keen scent. he would help in finding the hiding-place of a seal, if there were one to be found. you may not know what a queer home the mother seal makes for her baby. she chooses a place on the solid ice that is covered with a deep layer of snow. she scrapes away the snow and carries it down through a hole in the ice into the water below. when her work is done, she has a dome-shaped house. the floor is the icy shelf, from which there is a passageway to the water beneath. there is a tiny breathing-place in the snowy roof to which she turns when needing air. the baby seal is born in this strange home. he lies here and sleeps most of the time till he is old enough to take care of himself. his mother often visits him. she hopes his enemies will not find him. but the bear, the fox, and the eskimo dog, are watching for signs of just such hiding-places as these. their scent is keen and they discover the tiny breathing-holes when men and boys would pass them by. this is why etu took his dog along with him. perhaps you wonder why etu did not let vanya run free. he only wished him to find a seal hole; the boy would do the hunting himself. the dog, if left alone, might succeed in scaring away the old seal; and etu wished to get both the baby and its mother. the boy tramped for many hours. remember, he had no breakfast this morning, yet he went with a bright face and a stout heart. when night came, etu was still brave and cheerful, although he had met with no success. he went home and found the men just returning. they also had failed. they could expect no supper, nor fire to warm them, after the long day's tramp in the bitter cold, but they must not show sadness; they must keep up stout hearts for the sake of the women and children. after all, there was a surprise waiting for etu. his mother had used the last bit of oil in thawing a little snow to give the household some water to drink. and, besides this, there was a scrap of seal hide for each one to chew. tough as it was, it was received as though it were the greatest dainty in the world. after this meal, if it could be called one, etu crept into bed, and was soon sound asleep. morning came, and our little cousin started out once more in search of food. but he had no better success than the day before. when he got home at night there was good news awaiting him, although it did not bring any supper. his father had found a seal-hole, and had said to the other men, "i will not leave my place till i can bring food for my hungry people." they left him, and went back to the village to tell his waiting household. his good wife at once got a heavy fur robe, and sent it back to her patient husband. he could wrap it about his feet, as he sat watching in the cold. perhaps it would be only a short time before he would hear the mother seal blowing at the hole below. but, again, hours might pass before she would come back to nurse her baby. yet the man must watch and be ready to pierce the breathing-hole with his long spear at any moment,--it was his only chance of killing the mother. the long hours of the night passed; the morning, too, was gone, when, suddenly, the quick ears of the hunter heard the welcome sound. and now, a second blow! the seal's head must be close to the hole. like a flash, down went the waiting spear, and fastened itself through the nose of the seal. if it had turned a half-inch in its course, it would have failed in its work. there was a violent pull at the spear, as the seal darted down through the passage from her icy home to the water below. but the hunter had a long rope fastened to the spear, and he let it run out quickly. then, brushing away the snowy roof, he jumped down on the floor of the "igloo." with two or three strong pulls he brought up the struggling seal, and quickly ended her life. it was an easy matter to dispose of the frightened baby. what a prize he had gained! he did not think of his frost-bitten nose, nor of his empty stomach. he only pictured the joy of the waiting people when he should reach home. when the hard-earned supper was set before them, you cannot guess what was the greatest dainty of all. it was the milk inside the baby seal's stomach! it was sweet and delicate in its taste, and was much like the milk from a green cocoanut. there were many other hard times before that winter was over, but etu did his part bravely, and no one died of want. one day the boy hunted a seal bear-fashion, and was successful, too. he had learned many lessons from this wise creature, and he did not forget them. the polar bear, so strong and fierce, is also very cunning. if he discovers a dark spot far away on the ice, he seems to say to himself, "ah! there is a seal asleep. i will deceive him, and catch him for my dinner." so he creeps, or, rather, hitches along, with his fore feet curled beneath him. nearer and nearer he draws to his prey. and now the sleeping seal awakes. is there danger? but the bear at once stops moving, and makes a low, strange sound. it is different from his usual voice. the seal listens, and is charmed. he turns his head from side to side, and then is quite still once more. the bear creeps nearer now; once more the seal starts, but is again charmed by the strange sound. suddenly he is caught in those powerful claws, and the long, sharp teeth fasten themselves in his body. in a moment it is all over with the poor seal. [illustration: "etu stopped moving and lay quite still"] this is one of the lessons etu learned from ninoo, the bear. he followed his teacher well when one day he, too, saw a dark spot on the shore, quite a distance away. holding his spear beneath him, he crouched down on the snow, and jerked himself along. for some time the seal was not aroused. then, opening his eyes, he must have thought: "is that a brother seal over there? his coat is like mine." still he watched, for a seal is easily frightened. etu stopped moving and lay quite still. "no, there is no danger," thought the seal; and he closed his eyes again. once more etu began to move, and drew quite near before the seal stirred again. but now the creature seemed to question himself once more. "is it a friend, or is it one of my terrible enemies?" he was about to dart away when etu began to make a low, strange sound. you would have thought it was the bear himself, he was imitated so well. the seal seemed pleased, and did not stir again. before another five minutes the young hunter had killed his victim. he hurried homeward with the heavy burden flung over his broad shoulders. you can imagine how proud his mother felt when he appeared in the doorway of the house and showed his prize of the morning. chapter ix. an eskimo christmas. not long after this etu's people celebrated a festival. it was about christmas time, but the boy had never heard of our own great holiday. yet his own christmas always means very much to him. all the people of the village met together on a certain evening in etu's home. the medicine-man was there, and made a sort of prayer. he prayed that all might go well with the people during the coming year. this medicine-man is the priest as well as the doctor among the eskimos. after the prayer there was a feast. the hunters had done their best, and had managed to get a good supply of seal meat on hand. the next day after the feast, men, women, and children gathered together in a circle in the open air. a vessel of water had been placed in their midst. each one brought a piece of meat with him. no one spoke while it was being eaten, but each thought of his good spirit, and wished for good things. then each in turn took a drink of water from the vessel. as he did so he spoke, telling when and where he was born. when this ceremony was over, all threw presents to each other. they believed they would receive good things from the good spirits if they were generous at this time. soon after this festival came new year's. this, too, was a strange celebration. two men, one of them dressed as a woman, went from hut to hut blowing out the flame in each lamp. it must be lighted from a fresh fire. the people believe there is a new sun in the heavens at the beginning of each new year. they think they ought to picture this great change in their own homes. the year was a moon old, as etu would say, when one day he was out hunting for seal-holes with his father. they brought a pack of dogs along with them. these had just been loosened for a run when they darted off as though they had found a fresh scent. they rushed toward a great bank of snow on the side of a high rock. surely it was no seal-hole they had discovered. the small opening on the surface of the snow showed that it was the breathing-place of a polar bear. the mother bear eats vast quantities of food at the beginning of winter; then she seeks a sheltered spot at the foot of some rock, and begins her long rest. the snow falls in great drifts over her. this makes a warm, close house. does it seem as though she must die for want of air? there is no danger of this, for the breath from her great body thaws enough snow around her to form a small room. it also makes a sort of chimney through the snow, to the air above. the baby bear is born in this house of snow, and there he stays with his mother till old enough to hunt for himself. it was the home of a mother bear, then, that the dogs had discovered. they were wildly excited, for eskimo dogs are no cowards. they love a bear hunt hugely. they rushed upon the opening and quickly pushed away the snow. etu and his father stood on the watch for the mother bear and her cub to appear. they were as much excited as the dogs, but stood with spears in hand, perfectly still. look out now! for here they come. what a tiny little thing the baby bear is! it is like a little puppy. it would be easy to end its life, but etu knows that would not be safe. it would make the mother a hundred times more dangerous. the great creature looks now in one direction, now in another. it would not be hard for her to escape; but she will not leave her cub. so she rushes madly toward etu's father. the dogs jump around her, biting at her heels. she does not seem even to notice them. look at the long sharp teeth as she opens her mouth for a spring upon the man. one blow of her paws would knock him senseless. but he does not fear. he jumps to one side and dodges the blow. at the same time, he strikes at her throat with his long spear. the blood gushes forth and she staggers. however, she shakes herself together with a great effort and rises on her hind legs to strike again. the pack of dogs surround her and keep biting at her legs, but the man would not be able to escape if etu did not suddenly come up behind. he plunges his own spear far into her side. she gives one fearful groan and falls to the ground. no hunter will ever be troubled by her again. the poor little cub runs to its mother's side, giving piteous cries. but no one is left now to pity and love it, so its life is mercifully and quickly ended. the men and dogs are soon on their homeward way. they must get sledges and go back quickly for the bodies of the two bears. suppose that while they were gone another party of eskimos should come along, need they fear their prey would be stolen? the thought does not enter their heads, for such a thing has never been known to happen among their people. they are honest in all ways, and would not touch that which they believe to be another's. chapter x. summer travels. the long winter was over at last, and etu's people got ready to leave their underground homes. they would spend the first spring days farther up the coast, and closer still to the water's side; for there they could watch the seal-holes more easily. the household goods were packed on the sledges, and etu said good-bye to his winter home for four months. the men walked along, guiding the dogs, while the women and children rode in the sledges. they travelled nearly all day before they came to a place where they wished to settle. but the weather was even now bitterly cold. the snow still covered the earth, and the water along the shore was a mass of broken ice. [illustration: "the blocks of snow were handed to them"] where were these people to be sheltered when night came on? the question could be easily answered. they would build homes for themselves in an hour or two. the sheets of snow around them were quite solid, and the boys and men began to saw the snow into thick blocks. the walls and roofs of the houses should be built of these. two men stood in the centre of each cleared space: the blocks of snow were handed to them. these were laid on the ground, side by side, in a circle as large as they wished the house to be. the foundation was quickly made. then another row of snow blocks was laid above the first, but drawn in toward the centre a very little. then came a third row, and so on, till at last there was just space enough at the top for one block of snow to fill it in completely. the new house looked like a great snow beehive. but the two builders were shut up inside! one of the men on the outside cut a block of snow out of the wall of the house. this made a doorway through which people could go and come. it could be closed afterward, when the inmates desired, by filling it again with a snow door. the builders now took loose snow and sifted it into the cracks and crevices to make the house quite close and tight. after this, the floor must be trodden down smooth, and then the women could enter to set up housekeeping. a bed of snow was quickly made, over which the fur rugs were thrown. next, a stand of snow was shaped, and the lamp set up in its place. the oil was soon burning brightly, and snow was melted to furnish drinking-water. in half an hour more our cousin etu was eating supper as comfortably as he could wish. not long after, he was sound asleep on his snow bedstead, without a single dream of cold or trouble. after a few weeks of seal hunting, etu noticed that the birds were returning. there were great numbers of them,--wild ducks, geese, and sea-birds of many kinds. the ice began to disappear, and it was great sport to paddle his boat over to the islands near the shore, and shoot a bagful of birds for dinner. but sometimes he stayed in his boat, and, moving slowly along the shore, would throw his bird-dart at ducks as they flew by. his aim was straight and true, and he was almost sure to be successful. spring changed suddenly into summer, and now the snow house must be left, for etu and his people were ready to move again. besides, the walls of the house grew soft, and would soon melt away. where would etu travel next? you ask. he would answer: "not far from here there is a broad river where great numbers of salmon live during the warm weather. it is great sport catching the fish. now we can have so much rich food that we can all grow fat." once more the dogs were harnessed, and the spring camping-ground was left behind, as the eskimo party journeyed southward. when the river was reached, new homes must be made ready. but what material would be used now? there were no trees to furnish wood, for the forests were still hundreds of miles south of them, and snow at this time of the year was out of the question. but etu's people were well prepared, for they took their supply of skins, and quickly made tents out of them. it was still so cold that a double row of skins must be used to keep out the sharp winds. and now they were ready for the happiest part of the whole year. they need not fear hunger for a long time to come. plenty of fish in the river, plenty of birds in the air, birds' eggs, which the bright eyes of the boys and girls would discover; and, besides all these dainties, they would get stores of reindeer meat. "how could any one be any happier than i?" thought etu, and he smiled a broad smile, making a funny face to express his joy. in another country of the world as far north as etu lives, the laplander has herds of tame reindeer. they are driven as etu drives his dogs. they give sweet milk, too. etu has never heard of these people, but he has been told that there is a place in his own country where his kind american friends have brought some of these tame reindeer from lapland. great care is taken of them, so they will grow and get used to their new home. it will be a fine thing for etu's people to have these tame reindeer and be able to get fresh milk during the long winter, as well as tame animals that will supply them with food when they are in danger of starving. but etu busies himself now with setting traps for the wild reindeer which begin to appear in the country as summer opens. they have spent the winter in the forests far away, but as the heat of the sun begins to melt the snow, they travel toward the shores of the ocean. here the baby reindeer are born. they are tiny, weak little creatures at first; but they grow fast, and in a few days are able to take care of themselves, and get their own food. the reindeer have a wonderfully keen sense of smell. even when the ground is covered with a deep layer of snow, they seem able to tell where the lichens and mosses are living beneath it. no one has ever seen a reindeer make a mistake in this matter. when he begins to paw away the snow with his broad, stout hoofs, you may be sure he has discovered a good dinner for himself. the lichens are tender and white, and taste somewhat like wheat bran. it is no wonder the reindeer grows fat on this plentiful food. etu hunts the reindeer in several different ways. sometimes when he is out on the watch for them he hears a great clattering. it may be a long way off, and he cannot see a living thing, yet he knows what that sound means. it is the hoofs of the reindeer as they come pounding along. he lies down and keeps very still. he watches closely, however, to see if the reindeer are coming in his direction. if he finds this to be so, he keeps in the same position and waits till they have passed by him and are headed for the shore. then he jumps up suddenly, and chases them with fury. they get confused, and rush onward in disorder. on he follows till they reach the water's side, where they plunge madly in. they are good swimmers, but are so frightened that etu is easily able to secure at least one of them. sometimes our eskimo cousin goes a long way over the plains, and with his father's help digs a deep pit in the earth. they cover it over with brushwood. if a herd of reindeer should travel in this direction, some of them would fall into the pit and break their slender legs. it would be an easy matter then to come and get them. but there is another way that etu likes best of all. soon after he came to his summer home he hunted about over the country till he had chosen a spot where the reindeer were likely to come. here he built a sort of fort, or wall, out of stones. he could hide behind this wall, and watch for his game without their being able to see him. he spent many days of the summer in this place with one of his boy friends. they would sit there talking, or playing some quiet game, but their bows and arrows were always ready; and their eyes ever on the lookout for the reindeer who might come that way at any moment. many times, of course, they met with no success; but many times, too, they took a herd by surprise, and were able to carry home a goodly feast to their friends and relatives. reindeer meat is tender and sweet, the marrow and tongue being the parts best liked by etu's people. but the most delicious food etu ever puts into his mouth is the contents of a reindeer's stomach! we must not be shocked at this, though it does seem a queer thing to eat, doesn't it? the reason etu likes it so well is probably this: the food of the reindeer is moss; when it has entered his stomach it has a slightly acid taste, so it gives a relish the people cannot often get. besides, it belongs to the vegetable kingdom, and etu's people, we know, do not have the pleasure of eating corn, potatoes, and other delicious fruits of the earth, so commonly used by us that we hardly appreciate them. it was after one of these long days on the plains that etu came home feeling quite ill. his head ached; his eyes were bloodshot; his hands and face burned like fire. his loving mother was quite worried. she put her son to bed at once, and sent for the medicine-man. she got a present of deer skins ready to give him as soon as the great person should appear. after he had accepted the deer skins the doctor put on a horrible black mask; then he began to move about the tent, waving his arms from side to side, and repeating a charm. do you understand what he was trying to do? he thought a bad spirit had got hold of etu; he believed the hideous mask and the charm of certain words would drive it out. after awhile he went away, and etu was alone again with his own people. his fever lasted for several days, but at length it left him, and he grew well and strong once more. he believed the great medicine-man had healed him; but we think mother nature worked her own cure through rest in his own warm bed. the poor boy was tired out, and had caught a hard cold watching on the plains. as soon as he was strong his father said: "the trading season has come, for it is already two moons since we made our camp. we must journey southward to the great river. we shall see our friends from the western coast; they must have already started to meet us. let us get our furs, seal oil, and walrus tusks together to sell to them, for, no doubt, they will have many things to give us in exchange. we greatly need some copper kettles and tobacco. oh, yes, let us get ready as soon as possible." etu was delighted to hear these words. now would come the merriest time. he would have a long journey, and he dearly liked a change. but that was not all. he would see new people, and hear of new things; he would have a chance to trade, and that would be great sport in itself. besides all these things, he knew his people would spend at least ten days with their friends from the west; and there would be much dancing and singing and story-telling, both day and night. hurrah, then, for this summer journey! you may be sure etu did his best in packing and making ready. in another twenty-four hours there was no sign left of this eskimo village. the dogs, the sledges, and the people were all gone. nothing was left except a few articles used in housekeeping, and these were buried in an underground storehouse. if you wish to hear more about etu, and of his yearly visit south; if you care to hear about the big whale he helped to kill last winter, and of his adventure with a walrus, you must write and ask him about these things. and yet, after all, i fear he could not read the letter. you would better go and visit him. it is well worth the journey, for then you can see for yourself how a boy can be cheerful and happy and loving, even though he lives in the dreariest part of the whole world. the end. the little cousin series the most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, and adventures. each vol., mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six full-page illustrations in color by l. j. bridgman. price per volume $ . "juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruction out of the little cousin series.... pleasing narratives give pictures of the little folk in the far-away lands in their duties and pleasures, showing their odd ways of playing, studying, their queer homes, clothes, and play-things...."--_detroit news-tribune._ _by mary hazelton wade_ =our little swiss cousin.= =our little norwegian cousin.= =our little italian cousin.= =our little siamese cousin.= =our little cuban cousin.= =our little hawaiian cousin.= =our little eskimo cousin.= =our little philippine cousin.= =our little porto rican cousin.= =our little african cousin.= =our little japanese cousin.= =our little brown cousin.= =our little indian cousin.= =our little russian cousin.= =our little german cousin.= =our little irish cousin.= =our little turkish cousin.= =our little jewish cousin.= _by isaac headland taylor_ =our little chinese cousin.= _by elizabeth roberts macdonald_ =our little canadian cousin.= animal tales by charles g. d. roberts illustrated by charles livingston bull as follows: =the lord of the air= (the eagle) =the king of the mamozekel= (the moose) =the watchers of the camp-fire= (the panther) =the haunter of the pine gloom= (the lynx) each vol., small mo, cloth decorative, per volume $ . realizing the great demand for the animal stories of professor roberts, one of the masters of nature writers, the publishers have selected four representative stories, to be issued separately, at a popular price. each story is illustrated by charles livingston bull, and is bound in a handsome decorative cover. the little colonel books (trade mark.) _by annie fellows johnston_ each, vol., large mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated, per vol. $ . =the little colonel stories.= (trade mark.) illustrated. being three "little colonel" stories in the cosy corner series, "the little colonel," "two little knights of kentucky," and "the giant scissors," put into a single volume. =the little colonel's house party.= (trade mark.) illustrated by louis meynell. =the little colonel's holidays.= (trade mark.) illustrated by l. j. bridgman. =the little colonel's hero.= (trade mark.) illustrated by e. b. barry. =the little colonel at boarding school.= (trade mark.) illustrated by e. b. barry. =the little colonel in arizona.= (_in preparation._) (trade mark.) illustrated by l. j. bridgman. since the time of "little women," no juvenile heroine has been better beloved of her child readers than mrs. johnston's "little colonel." each succeeding book has been more popular than its predecessor. =joel: a boy of galilee.= by annie fellows johnston. illustrated by l. j. bridgman. new illustrated edition, uniform with the little colonel books, vol., large mo, cloth decorative $ . a story of the time of christ, which is one of the author's best-known books, and which has been translated into many languages, the last being italian. =flip's "islands of providence."= by annie fellows johnston. mo, cloth, with illustrations $ . in this book the author of "the little colonel" and her girl friends and companions shows that she is equally at home in telling a tale in which the leading character is a boy, and in describing his troubles and triumphs in a way that will enhance her reputation as a skilled and sympathetic writer of stories for children. =asa holmes=; or, at the cross-roads. a sketch of country life and country humor. by annie fellows johnston. with a frontispiece by ernest fosbery. large mo, cloth, gilt top $ . "'asa holmes; or, at the cross-roads' is the most delightful, most sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long while. the lovable, cheerful, touching incidents, the descriptions of persons and things are wonderfully true to nature."--_boston times._ =the great scoop.= by molly elliot seawell, author of "little jarvis," "laurie vane," etc. mo, cloth, with illustrations $ . a capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of a bright, enterprising, likable youngster employed therein. every boy with an ounce of true boyish blood in him will have the time of his life in reading how dick henshaw entered the newspaper business, and how he secured "the great scoop." =little lady marjorie.= by francis margaret fox, author of "farmer brown and the birds," etc. mo, cloth, illustrated $ . a charming story for children between the ages of ten and fifteen years, with both heart and nature interest. =the sandman=: his farm stories. by william j. hopkins. with fifty illustrations by ada clendenin williamson. one vol., large mo, decorative cover $ . "an amusing, original book, written for the benefit of children not more than six years old, is, 'the sandman: his farm stories.' it should be one of the most popular of the year's books for reading to small children."--_buffalo express._ "mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take the little ones to bed and rack their brains for stories will find this book a treasure."--_cleveland leader._ =the sandman=: more farm stories. by william j. hopkins, author of "the sandman: his farm stories." library mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated, $ . mr. hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories has met with such approval that this second book of "sandman" tales has been issued for scores of eager children. life on the farm, and out-of-doors, will be portrayed in his inimitable manner, and many a little one will hail the bedtime season as one of delight. =a puritan knight errant.= by edith robinson, author of "a little puritan pioneer," "a little puritan's first christmas," "a little puritan rebel," etc. library mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $ . the charm of style and historical value of miss robinson's previous stories of child life in puritan days have brought them wide popularity. her latest and most important book appeals to a large juvenile public. the "knight errant" of this story is a little don quixote, whose trials and their ultimate outcome will prove deeply interesting to their reader. =beautiful joe's paradise=; or, the island of brotherly love. a sequel to "beautiful joe." by marshall saunders, author of "beautiful joe," "for his country," etc. with fifteen full-page plates and many decorations from drawings by charles livingston bull. one vol., library mo, cloth decorative $ . "will be immensely enjoyed by the boys and girls who read it."--_pittsburg gazette._ "miss saunders has put life, humor, action, and tenderness into her story. the book deserves to be a favorite."--_chicago record-herald._ "this book revives the spirit of 'beautiful joe' capitally. it is fairly riotous with fun, and as a whole is about as unusual as anything in the animal book line that has seen the light. it is a book for juveniles--old and young."--_philadelphia item._ ='tilda jane.= by marshall saunders, author of "beautiful joe," etc. one vol., mo, fully illustrated, cloth, decorative cover $ . "no more amusing and attractive child's story has appeared for a long time than this quaint and curious recital of the adventures of that pitiful and charming little runaway. "it is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books that win and charm the reader, and i did not put it down until i had finished it--honest! and i am sure that every one, young or old, who reads will be proud and happy to make the acquaintance of the delicious waif. "i cannot think of any better book for children than this. i commend it unreservedly."--_cyrus townsend brady._ =the story of the graveleys.= by marshall saunders, author of "beautiful joe's paradise," "'tilda jane," etc. library mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by e. b. barry $ . here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a delightful new england family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it will do the reader good to hear. from the kindly, serene-souled grandmother to the buoyant madcap, berty, these graveleys are folk of fibre and blood--genuine human beings. phyllis' field friends series _by lenore e. mulets_ six vols., cloth decorative, illustrated by sophie schneider. sold separately, or as a set. per volume $ . per set $ . =insect stories.= =stories of little animals.= =flower stories.= =bird stories.= =tree stories.= =stories of little fishes.= in this series of six little nature books, it is the author's intention so to present to the child reader the facts about each particular flower, insect, bird, or animal, in story form, as to make delightful reading. classical legends, myths, poems, and songs are so introduced as to correlate fully with these lessons, to which the excellent illustrations are no little help. the woodranger tales _by g. waldo browne_ =the woodranger.= =the young gunbearer.= =the hero of the hills.= each, vol., large mo, cloth, decorative cover, illustrated, per volume $ . three vols., boxed, per set $ . "the woodranger tales," like the "pathfinder tales" of j. fenimore cooper, combine historical information relating to early pioneer days in america with interesting adventures in the backwoods. although the same characters are continued throughout the series, each book is complete in itself, and, while based strictly on historical facts, is an interesting and exciting tale of adventure. * * * * * =the rosamond tales.= by cuyler reynolds. with full-page illustrations from original photographs, and with a frontispiece from a drawing by maud humphreys. one vol., large mo, cloth decorative $ . these are just the bedtime stories that children always ask for, but do not always get. rosamond and rosalind are the hero and heroine of many happy adventures in town and on their grandfather's farm; and the happy listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a vast amount of interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and flowers. the book will be a boon to tired mothers, and a delight to wide-awake children. =larry hudson's ambition.= by james otis, author of "toby tyler," etc. illustrated by eliot keen. one vol., library mo, cloth, decorative cover, $ . james otis, who has delighted the juvenile public with so many popular stories, has written the story of the rise of the bootblack larry. larry is not only capable of holding his own and coming out with flying colors in the amusing adventures wherein he befriends the family of good deacon doak; he also has the signal ability to know what he wants and to understand that hard work is necessary to win. =black beauty=: the autobiography of a horse. by anna sewell. _new illustrated edition._ with nineteen full-page drawings by winifred austin. one vol., large mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, $ . there have been many editions of this classic, but we confidently offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome yet produced. the illustrations are of special value and beauty. miss austin is a lover of horses, and has delighted in tracing with her pen the beauty and grace of the noble animal. "=yours with all my heart=:" the autobiography of a real dog. by esther m. baxendale. very fully illustrated with upwards of a hundred drawings by etheldred b. barry. large mo, cloth decorative $ . mrs. baxendale's charming story, though written primarily for children, will find a warm welcome from all those who love animals. it is a true story of a deeply loved pet and companion of the author's for thirteen years; and it cannot fail to inspire in the hearts of all the young people fortunate enough to hear it that affection and sympathy for domestic animals so essential in the moulding of character. it is delightfully human in its interest, and contains, besides the main theme of a rarely beautiful dog life, character sketches which show keen observation and that high order of talent requisite in writing for children, and exemplified in "black beauty" and "beautiful joe," of a place beside which, the publishers believe, "yours with all my heart" will be found worthy. =songs and rhymes for the little ones.= compiled by mary whitney morrison (jenny wallis). new edition, with an introduction by mrs. a. d. t. whitney, with eight illustrations. one vol., large mo, cloth decorative $ . no better description of this admirable book can be given than mrs. whitney's happy introduction: "one might almost as well offer june roses with the assurance of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little gathering of verse, which announces itself, like them, by its deliciousness. yet as mrs. morrison's charming volume has long been a delight to me, i am only too happy to link my name with its new and enriched form in this slight way, and simply declare that it is to me the most bewitching book of songs for little people that i have ever known." cosy corner series it is the intention of the publishers that this shall contain only the very highest and purest literature,--stories that shall not only appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with them in their joys and sorrows. the numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known artists, and each volume has a separate attractive cover design. each, vol., mo, cloth $ . _by annie fellows johnston_ =the little colonel.= (trade mark.) the scene of this story is laid in kentucky. its heroine is a small girl, who is known as the little colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school southern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous in the region. this old colonel proves to be the grandfather of the child. =the giant scissors.= this is the story of joyce and of her adventures in france,--the wonderful house with the gate of the giant scissors, jules, her little playmate, sister denisa, the cruel brossard, and her dear aunt kate. joyce is a great friend of the little colonel, and in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences of the "house party" and the "holidays." =two little knights of kentucky,= who were the little colonel's neighbors. in this volume the little colonel returns to us like an old friend, but with added grace and charm. she is not, however, the central figure of the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights." =cicely and other stories for girls.= the readers of mrs. johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young people, written in the author's sympathetic and entertaining manner. =aunt 'liza's hero and other stories.= a collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys and most girls. =big brother.= a story of two boys. the devotion and care of steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale, the pathos and beauty of which has appealed to so many thousands. =ole mammy's torment.= "ole mammy's torment" has been fitly called "a classic of southern life." it relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. =the story of dago.= in this story mrs. johnston relates the story of dago, a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. dago tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing. =the quilt that jack built.= a pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the course of his life many years after it was accomplished. told in mrs. johnston's usual vein of quaint charm and genuine sincerity. _by edith robinson_ =a little puritan's first christmas.= a story of colonial times in boston, telling how christmas was invented by betty sewall, a typical child of the puritans, aided by her brother sam. =a little daughter of liberty.= the author's motive for this story is well indicated by a quotation from her introduction, as follows: "one ride is memorable in the early history of the american revolution, the well-known ride of paul revere. equally deserving of commendation is another ride,--untold in verse or story, its records preserved only in family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of anthony severn was no less historic in its action or memorable in its consequences." =a loyal little maid.= a delightful and interesting story of revolutionary days, in which the child heroine, betsey schuyler, renders important services to george washington. =a little puritan rebel.= like miss robinson's successful story of "a loyal little maid," this is another historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the gallant sir harry vane was governor of massachusetts. =a little puritan pioneer.= the scene of this story is laid in the puritan settlement at charlestown. the little girl heroine adds another to the list of favorites so well known to the young people. =a little puritan bound girl.= a story of boston in puritan days, which is of great interest to youthful readers. _by ouida_ (_louise de la ramée_) =a dog of flanders=: a christmas story. too well and favorably known to require description. =the nürnberg stove.= this beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price. =a provence rose.= a story perfect in sweetness and in grace. =findelkind.= a charming story about a little swiss herdsman. _by miss mulock_ =the little lame prince.= a delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother. =adventures of a brownie.= the story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him. =his little mother.= miss mulock's short stories for children are a constant source of delight to them, and "his little mother," in this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers. =little sunshine's holiday.= an attractive story of a summer outing. "little sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters for which miss mulock is so justly famous. _by juliana horatia ewing_ =jackanapes.= a new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and touching story, dear alike to young and old. =story of a short life.= this beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. it is a part of the world's literature, and will never die. =a great emergency.= how a family of children prepared for a great emergency, and how they acted when the emergency came. =the trinity flower.= in this little volume are collected three of mrs. ewing's best short stories for the young people. =madam liberality.= from her cradle up madam liberality found her chief delight in giving. _by frances margaret fox_ =the little giant's neighbours.= a charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden. =farmer brown and the birds.= a little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best friends. =betty of old mackinaw.= a charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little readers who like stories of "real people." =mother nature's little ones.= curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors. _by will allen dromgoole_ =the farrier's dog and his fellow.= this story, written by the gifted young southern woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style. =the fortunes of the fellow.= those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "the farrier's dog and his fellow" will welcome the further account of the "adventures of baydaw and the fellow" at the home of the kindly smith. =the best of friends.= this continues the experiences of the farrier's dog and his fellow, written in miss dromgoole's well-known charming style. _by frances hodges white_ =helena's wonderworld.= a delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the mysterious regions beneath the sea. =aunt nabby's children.= this pretty little story, touched with the simple humor of country life, tells of two children who were adopted by aunt nabby. _by marshall saunders_ =for his country.= a sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country; written with that charm which has endeared miss saunders to hosts of readers. =nita, the story of an irish setter.= in this touching little book, miss saunders shows how dear to her heart are all of god's dumb creatures. * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious punctuation errors repaired. [transcriber's note: bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.] our little german cousin the little cousin series (trade mark) each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates in tint. cloth, mo, with decorative cover, per volume, cents list of titles by mary hazelton wade (unless otherwise indicated) =our little african cousin= =our little alaskan cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little arabian cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little armenian cousin= =our little brazilian cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little brown cousin= =our little canadian cousin= by elizabeth r. macdonald =our little chinese cousin= by isaac taylor headland =our little cuban cousin= =our little dutch cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little english cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little eskimo cousin= =our little french cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little german cousin= =our little hawaiian cousin= =our little hindu cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little indian cousin= =our little irish cousin= =our little italian cousin= =our little japanese cousin= =our little jewish cousin= =our little korean cousin= by h. lee m. pike =our little mexican cousin= by edward c. butler =our little norwegian cousin= =our little panama cousin= by h. lee m. pike =our little philippine cousin= =our little porto rican cousin= =our little russian cousin= =our little scotch cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little siamese cousin= =our little spanish cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little swedish cousin= by claire m. coburn =our little swiss cousin= (_in preparation_) =our little australian cousin= l. c. page & company new england building, boston, mass. [illustration: bertha.] our little german cousin by mary hazelton wade _illustrated, by_ l. j. bridgman [illustration] boston l. c. page & company _publishers_ _copyright, _ by l. c. page & company (incorporated) _all rights reserved_ the little cousin series (_trade mark_) published june, fifth impression, october, colonial press electrotyped and printed by c. h. simonds & co. boston, mass., u. s. a. preface when the word germany comes to our minds, we think at once of ruined castles, fairies, music, and soldiers. why is it? first, as to the castles. here and there along the banks of the river rhine, as well as elsewhere throughout the country, the traveller is constantly finding himself near some massive stone ruin. it seems ever ready to tell stories of long ago,--of brave knights who defended its walls, of beautiful princesses saved from harm, of sturdy boys and sweet-faced girls who once played in its gardens. for germany is the home of an ancient and brave people, who have often been called upon to face powerful enemies. next, as to the fairies. it seems as though the dark forests of germany, the quiet valleys, and the banks of the beautiful rivers, were the natural homes of the fairy-folk, the gnomes and the elves, the water-sprites and the sylphs. our german cousins listen with wonder and delight to the legends of fearful giants and enchanted castles, and many of the stories they know so well have been translated into other languages for their cousins of distant lands, who are as fond of them as the blue-eyed children of germany. as to the music, it seems as though every boy and girl in the whole country drew in the spirit of song with the air they breathe. they sing with a love of what they are singing, they play as though the tune were a part of their very selves. some of the finest musicians have been germans, and their gifts to the world have been bountiful. as for soldiers, we know that every man in germany must stand ready to defend his country. he must serve his time in drilling and training for war. he is a necessary part of that fatherland he loves so dearly. our fair-haired german cousins are busy workers and hard students. they must learn quite early in life that they have duties as well as pleasures, and the duties cannot be set aside or forgotten. but they love games and holidays as dearly as the children of our own land. contents chapter page i. christmas ii. toy-making iii. the wicked bishop iv. the coffee-party v. the beautiful castle vi. the great frederick vii. the brave princess viii. what the waves bring ix. the magic sword list of illustrations page bertha _frontispiece_ bertha's father and mother the rats' tower courtyard of heidelberg castle statue of frederick the great bertha's home our little german cousin chapter i. christmas "don't look! there, now it's done!" cried bertha. it was two nights before christmas. bertha was in the big living-room with her mother and older sister. each sat as close as possible to the candle-light, and was busily working on something in her lap. but, strange to say, they did not face each other. they were sitting back to back. "what an unsociable way to work," we think. "is that the way germans spend the evenings together?" no, indeed. but christmas was near at hand, and the air was brimful of secrets. bertha would not let her mother discover what she was working for her, for all the world. and the little girl's mother was preparing surprises for each of the children. all together, the greatest fun of the year was getting ready for christmas. "mother, you will make some of those lovely cakes this year, won't you?" asked bertha's sister gretchen. "certainly, my child. it would not be christmas without them. early to-morrow morning, you and bertha must shell and chop the nuts. i will use the freshest eggs and will beat the dough as long as my arms will let me." "did you always know how to make those cakes, mamma?" asked bertha. "my good mother taught me when i was about your age, my dear. you may watch me to-morrow, and perhaps you will learn how to make them. it is never too early to begin to learn to cook." "when the city girls get through school, they go away from home and study housekeeping don't they?" asked gretchen. "yes, and many girls who don't live in cities. but i hardly think you will ever be sent away. we are busy people here in our little village, and you will have to be contented with learning what your mother can teach you. "i shall be satisfied with that, i know. but listen! i can hear father and hans coming." "then put up your work, children, and set the supper-table." the girls jumped up and hurriedly put the presents away. it did not take long to set the supper-table, for the meals in this little home were very simple, and supper was the simplest of all. a large plate of black bread and a pitcher of sour milk were brought by the mother, and the family gathered around the table. the bread wasn't really black, of course. it was dark brown and very coarse. it was made of rye meal. bertha and gretchen had never seen any white bread in their lives, for they had never yet been far away from their own little village. neither had their brother hans. they were happy, healthy children. they all had blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and fair hair, like their father and mother. "you don't know what i've got for you, hans," said bertha, laughing and showing a sweet little dimple in her chin. hans bent down and kissed her. he never could resist that dimple, and bertha was his favourite sister. "i don't know what it is, but i do know that it must be something nice," said her brother. when the supper-table had been cleared, the mother and girls took out their sewing again, while hans worked at some wood-carving. the father took an old violin from its case and began to play some of the beautiful airs of germany. when he came to the "watch on the rhine," the mother's work dropped from her hands as she and the children joined in the song that stirs every german heart. "oh, dear! it seems as though christmas eve never would come," sighed bertha, as she settled herself for sleep beside her sister. it was quite a cold night, but they were cosy and warm. why shouldn't they be? they were covered with a down feather bed. their mother had the same kind of cover on her own bed, and so had hans. but christmas eve did come at last, although it seemed so far off to bertha the night before. hans and his father brought in the bough of a yew-tree, and it was set up in the living-room. the decorating came next. tiny candles were fastened on all the twigs. sweetmeats and nuts were hung from the branches. "how beautiful! how beautiful!" exclaimed the children when it was all trimmed, and they walked around it with admiring eyes. none of the presents were placed on the tree, for that is not the fashion in germany. each little gift had been tied up in paper and marked with the name of the one for whom it was intended. when everything was ready, there was a moment of quiet while the candles were being lighted. then bertha's father began to give out the presents, and there was a great deal of laughing and joking as the bundles were opened. there was a new red skirt for bertha. her mother had made it, for she knew the child was fond of pretty dresses. besides this, she had a pair of warm woollen mittens which gretchen had knit for her. hans had made and carved a doll's cradle for each of the girls. everybody was happy and contented. they sang songs and cracked nuts and ate the christmas cakes to their hearts' content. "i think i like the ones shaped like gnomes the best," said hans. "they have such comical little faces. do you know, every time i go out in the forest, it seems as though i might meet a party of gnomes hunting for gold." "i like the animal cakes best," said bertha. "the deer are such graceful creatures, and i like to bite off the horns and legs, one at a time." "a long time ago," said their father, "they used to celebrate christmas a little different from the way we now do. the presents were all carried to a man in the village who dressed himself in a white robe, and a big wig made of flax. he covered his face with a mask, and then went from house to house. the grown people received him with great honours. he called for the children and gave them the presents their parents had brought to him. "but these presents were all given according to the way the children had behaved during the year. if they had been good and tried hard, they had the gifts they deserved. but if they had been naughty and disobedient, it was not a happy time for them." "i don't believe the children were very fond of him," cried hans. "they must have been too much afraid of him." "that is true," said his father. "but now, let us play some games. christmas comes but once a year, and you have all been good children." the room soon rang with the shouts of hans and his sisters. they played "blind man's buff" and other games. their father took part in all of them as though he were a boy again. the good mother looked on with pleasant smiles. bedtime came only too soon. but just before the children said good night, the father took hans one side and talked seriously yet lovingly with him. he told the boy of the faults he must still fight against. he spoke also of the improvement he had made during the year. at the same time the mother gave words of kind advice to her little daughters. she told them to keep up good courage; to be busy and patient in the year to come. "my dear little girls," she whispered, as she kissed them, "i love to see you happy in your play. but the good lord who cares for us has given us all some work to do in this world. be faithful in doing yours." chapter ii. toy-making "wake up, bertha. come, gretchen. you will have to hurry, for it is quite late," called their mother. it was one morning about a week after christmas. [illustration: bertha's father and mother.] "oh dear, i am so sleepy, and my bed is nice and warm," thought bertha. but she jumped up and rubbed her eyes and began to dress, without waiting to be called a second time. her mother was kind and loving, but she had taught her children to obey without a question. both little girls had long, thick hair. it must be combed and brushed and braided with great care. each one helped the other. they were soon dressed, and ran down-stairs. as soon as the breakfast was over and the room made tidy, every one in the family sat down to work. bertha's father was a toy-maker. he had made wooden images of santa claus all his life. his wife and children helped him. when bertha was only five years old, she began to carve the legs of these santa claus dolls. it was a queer sight to see the little girl's chubby fingers at their work. now that she was nine years old, she still carved legs for santa claus in her spare moments. gretchen always made arms, while hans worked on a still different part of the bodies. the father and mother carved the heads and finished the little images that afterward gave such delight to children in other lands. bertha lives in the black forest. that name makes you think at once of a dark and gloomy place. the woods on the hills are dark, to be sure, but the valleys nestling between are bright and cheerful when the sun shines down and pours its light upon them. bertha's village is in just such a valley. the church stands on the slope above the little homes. it seems to say, "look upward, my children, to the blue heavens, and do not fear, even when the mists fill the valley and the storm is raging over your heads." all the people in the village seem happy and contented. they work hard, and their pay is small, but there are no beggars among them. toys are made in almost every house. every one in a family works on the same kind of toy, just as it is in bertha's home. the people think: "it would be foolish to spend one's time in learning new things. the longer a person works at making one kind of toy, the faster he can make them, and he can earn more money." one of bertha's neighbours makes nothing but noah's arks. another makes toy tables, and still another dolls' chairs. bertha often visits a little friend who helps her father make cuckoo-clocks. did you ever see one of these curious clocks? as each hour comes around, a little bird comes outside the case. then it flaps its wings and sings "cuckoo" in a soft, sweet voice as many times as there are strokes to the hour. it is great fun to watch for the little bird and hear its soft notes. perhaps you wonder what makes the bird come out at just the right time. it is done by certain machinery inside the clock. but, however it is, old people as well as children seem to enjoy the cuckoo-clocks of germany. "some day, when you are older, you shall go to the fair at easter time," bertha's father has promised her. "is that at leipsic, where our santa claus images go?" asked his little daughter. "yes, my dear, and toys from many other parts of our country. there you will see music-boxes and dolls' pianos and carts and trumpets and engines and ships. these all come from the mining-towns. "but i know what my little bertha would care for most. she would best like to see the beautiful wax dolls that come from sonneberg." "yes, indeed," cried bertha. "the dear, lovely dollies with yellow hair like mine. i would love every one of them. i wish i could go to sonneberg just to see the dolls." "i wonder what makes the wax stick on," said gretchen, who came into the room while her father and bertha were talking. "after the heads have been moulded into shape, they are dipped into pans of boiling wax," her father told her. "the cheap dolls are dipped only once, but the expensive ones have several baths before they are finished. the more wax that is put on, the handsomer the dolls are. "then comes the painting. one girl does nothing but paint the lips. another one does the cheeks. still another, the eyebrows. even then miss dolly looks like a bald-headed baby till her wig is fastened in its place." "i like the yellow hair best," said bertha. "but it isn't real, is it, papa?" "i suppose you mean to ask, 'did it ever grow on people's heads?' my dear. no. it is the wool of a kind of goat. but the black hair is real hair. most dolls, however, wear light wigs. people usually prefer them." "do little girls in sonneberg help make the dolls, just as bertha and i help you on the santa claus images?" asked gretchen. "certainly. they fill the bodies with sawdust, and do other easy things. but they go to school, too, just as you and bertha do. lessons must not be slighted." "if i had to help make dolls, just as i do these images," said gretchen to her sister as their father went out and left the children together, "i don't believe i'd care for the handsomest one in the whole toy fair. i'd be sick of the very sight of them." "look at the time, bertha. see, we must stop our work and start for school," exclaimed gretchen. it was only seven o'clock in the morning, but school would begin in half an hour. these little german girls had to study longer and harder than their american cousins. they spent at least an hour a day more in their schoolrooms. as they trudged along the road, they passed a little stream which came trickling down the hillside. "i wonder if there is any story about that brook," said bertha. "there's a story about almost everything in our dear old country, i'm sure." "you have heard father tell about the stream flowing down the side of the kandel, haven't you?" asked gretchen. "yes, i think so. but i don't remember it very well. what is the story, gretchen?" "you know the kandel is one of the highest peaks in the black forest. you've seen it, bertha." "yes, of course, but tell the story, gretchen." "well, then, once upon a time there was a poor little boy who had no father or mother. he had to tend cattle on the side of the kandel. at that time there was a deep lake at the summit of the mountain. but the lake had no outlet. "the people who lived in the valley below often said, 'dear me! how glad we should be if we could only have plenty of fresh water. but no stream flows near us. if we could only bring some of the water down from the lake!' "they were afraid, however, to make a channel out of the lake. the water might rush down with such force as to destroy their village. they feared to disturb it. "now, it came to pass that the evil one had it in his heart to destroy these people. he thought he could do it very easily if the rocky wall on the side of the lake could be broken down. there was only one way in which this could be done. an innocent boy must be found and got to do it. "it was a long time before such an one could be found. but at last the evil one came across an orphan boy who tended cattle on the mountainside. the poor little fellow was on his way home. he was feeling very sad, for he was thinking of his ragged clothes and his scant food. "'ah ha!' cried the evil one to himself, 'here is the very boy.' "he changed himself at once so he had the form and dress of a hunter, and stepped up to the lad with a pleasant smile. "'poor little fellow! what is the matter? and what can i do for you?' he said, in his most winning manner. "the boy thought he had found a friend, and told his story. "'do not grieve any longer. there is plenty of gold and silver in these very mountains. i will show you how to become rich,' said the evil one. 'meet me here early to-morrow morning and bring a good strong team with you. i will help you get the gold.' "the boy went home with a glad heart. you may be sure he did not oversleep the next morning. before it was light, he had harnessed four oxen belonging to his master, and started for the summit of the mountain. "the hunter, who was waiting for him, had already fastened a metal ring around the wall that held in the waters of the lake. "'fasten the oxen to that ring,' commanded the hunter, 'and the rock will split open.' "somehow or other, the boy did not feel pleased at what he was told to do. yet he obeyed, and started the oxen. but as he did so, he cried, 'do this in the name of god!' "at that very instant the sky grew black as night, the thunder rolled and the lightning flashed. and not only this, for at the same time the mountain shook and rumbled as though a mighty force were tearing it apart." "what became of the poor boy?" asked bertha. "he fell senseless to the ground, while the oxen in their fright rushed headlong down the mountainside. but you needn't get excited, bertha, no harm was done. the boy was saved as well as the village, because he had pulled in the name of god. "the rock did not split entirely. it broke apart just enough to let out a tiny stream of water, which began to flow down the mountainside. "when the boy came to his senses, the sky was clear and beautiful once more. the sun was shining brightly, and the hunter was nowhere to be seen. but the stream of water was running down the mountainside. "a few minutes afterward, the boy's master came hurrying up the slope. he was frightened by the dreadful sounds he had heard. but when he saw the waterfall, he was filled with delight. "'every one in the village will rejoice,' he exclaimed, 'for now we shall never want for water.' "then the little boy took courage and told the story of his meeting the hunter and what he had done. "'it is well you did it in the name of the lord,' cried his master. 'if you had not, our village would have been destroyed, and every one of us would have been drowned.'" "see! the children are going into the schoolhouse, gretchen. we must not be late. let's run," said bertha. the two little girls stopped talking, and hurried so fast that they entered the schoolhouse and were sitting in their seats in good order before the schoolmaster struck his bell. chapter iii. the wicked bishop "the rhine is the loveliest river in the world. i know it must be," said bertha. "of course it is," answered her brother. "i've seen it, and i ought to know. and father thinks so, too. he says it is not only beautiful, but it is also bound into the whole history of our country. think of the battles that have been fought on its shores, and the great generals who have crossed it!" "yes, and the castles, hans! think of the legends father and mother have told us about the beautiful princesses who have lived in the castles, and the brave knights who have fought for them! i shall be perfectly happy if i can ever sail down the rhine and see the noted places on its shores." "the schoolmaster has taught you all about the war with france, hasn't he, bertha?" "of course. and it really seemed at one time as if france would make us germans agree to have the rhine divide the two countries. just as if we would be willing to let the french own one shore of our beautiful river. i should say not!" bertha's cheeks grew rosier than usual at the thought of such a thing. she talked faster than german children usually do, for they are rather slow in their speech. "we do not own all of the river, little sister, as it is. the baby rhine sleeps in an icy cradle in the mountains of switzerland. then it makes its way through our country, but before it reaches the sea it flows through the low lands of holland." "i know all that, hans. but we own the best of the rhine, anyway. i am perfectly satisfied." "i wish i knew all the legends about the river. there are enough of them to fill many books. did you ever hear about the rats' tower opposite the town of bingen, bertha?" "what a funny name for a tower! no. is there a story about it, hans?" "yes, one of the boys was telling it to me yesterday while we were getting wood in the forest. it is a good story, although my friend said he wasn't sure it is true." "what is the story?" "it is about a very wicked bishop who was a miser. it happened one time that the harvests were poor and grain was scarce. the cruel bishop bought all the grain he could get and locked it up. he intended to sell it for a high price, and in this way to become very rich. "as the days went by, the food became scarcer and scarcer. the people began to sicken and die of hunger. they had but one thought: they must get something to eat for their children and themselves. "they knew of the stores of grain held by the bishop. they went to him and begged for some of it, but he paid no attention to their prayers. then they demanded that he open the doors of the storehouse and let them have the grain. it was of no use. "at last, they gathered together, and said: "'we will break down the door if you do not give it to us.' "'come to-morrow,' answered the bishop. 'bring your friends with you. you shall have all the grain you desire.' "the morrow came. crowds gathered in front of the granary. the bishop unlocked the door, saying: "'go inside and help yourselves freely.' "the people rushed in. then what do you think the cruel bishop did? he ordered his servants to lock the door and set the place on fire! "the air was soon filled with the screams of the burning people. but the bishop only laughed and danced. he said to his servants: "'do you hear the rats squeaking inside the granary?' "the next day came. there were only ashes in place of the great storehouse. there seemed to be no life about the town, for the people were all dead. "suddenly there was a great scurrying, as a tremendous swarm of rats came rushing out of the ashes. on they came, more and more of them. they filled the streets, and even made their way into the palace. "the wicked bishop was filled with fear. he fled from the place and hurried away over the fields. but the swarm of rats came rushing after him. he came to bingen, where he hoped to be safe within its walls. somehow or other, the rats made their way inside. [illustration: the rats' tower.] "there was now only one hope of safety. the bishop fled to a tower standing in the middle of the rhine. but it was of no use! the rats swam the river and made their way up the sides of the tower. their sharp teeth gnawed holes through the doors and windows. they entered in and came to the room where the bishop was hiding." "wicked fellow! they killed and ate him as he deserved, didn't they?" asked bertha. "there wasn't much left of him in a few minutes. but the tower still stands, and you can see it if you ever go to bingen, although it is a crumbling old pile now." "rats' tower is a good name for it. but i would rather hear about enchanted princesses and brave knights than wicked old bishops. tell me another story, hans." "oh, i can't. listen! i hear some one coming. who can it be?" hans jumped up and ran to the door, just in time to meet his uncle fritz, who lived in strasburg. the children loved him dearly. he was a young man about twenty-one years old. he came home to this little village in the black forest only about once a year. he had so much to tell and was so kind and cheerful, every one was glad to see him. "uncle fritz! uncle fritz! we are so glad you've come," exclaimed bertha, putting her arms around his neck. "and we are going to have something that you like for dinner." "i can guess what it is. sauerkraut and boiled pork. there is no other sauerkraut in germany as good as that your mother makes, i do believe. i'm hungry enough to eat the whole dishful and not leave any for you children. now what do you say to my coming? don't you wish i had stayed in strasburg?" "oh, no, no, uncle fritz. we would rather see you than anybody else," cried hans. "and here comes mother. she will be just as glad as we are." that evening, after hans had shown his uncle around the village, and he had called on his old friends, he settled himself in the chimney-corner with the children about him. "talk to us about strasburg, uncle fritz," begged gretchen. "please tell us about the storks," said bertha. "are there great numbers of the birds in the city, and do they build their nests on the chimneys?" "yes, you can see plenty of storks flying overhead if you will come back with me," said uncle fritz, laughingly. "they seem to know the people love them. if a stork makes his home about any one's house, it is a sign of good fortune to the people who live there. "'it will surely come,' they say to themselves, 'and the storks will bring it.' do you wonder the people like the birds so much?" "i read a story about a mother stork," said bertha, thoughtfully. "she had a family of baby birds. they were not big enough to leave their nest, when a fire broke out in the chimney where it was built. poor mother bird! she could have saved herself. but she would not leave her babies. so she stayed with them and they were all burned to death together." "i know the story. that happened right in strasburg," said her uncle. "please tell us about the beautiful cathedral with its tall tower," said hans. "sometime, uncle, i am going to strasburg, if i have to walk there, and then i shall want to spend a whole day in front of the wonderful clock." "you'd better have a lunch with you, hans, and then you will not get hungry. but really, my dear little nephew, i hope the time will soon come when you can pay me a long visit. as for the clock, you will have to stay in front of it all night as well as all day, if you are to see all it can show you." "i know about cuckoo-clocks, of course," said gretchen, "but the little bird is the only figure that comes out on those. there are ever so many different figures on the strasburg clock, aren't there, uncle fritz?" "a great, great many. angels strike the hours. a different god or goddess appears for each day in the week. then, at noon and at midnight, jesus and his twelve apostles come out through a door and march about on a platform. "you can imagine what the size of the clock must be when i tell you that the figures are as large as people. when the procession of the apostles appears, a gilded cock on the top of the tower flaps its wings and crows. "i cannot begin to tell you all about it. it is as good as a play, and, as i told hans, he would have to stay many hours near it to see all the sights." "i should think a strong man would be needed to wind it up," said his nephew. "the best part of it is that it does not need to be wound every day," replied uncle fritz. "they say it will run for years without being touched. of course, travellers are coming to strasburg all the time. they wish to see the clock, but they also come to see the cathedral itself. it is a very grand building, and, as you know, the spire is the tallest one in all europe. "then there is so much beautiful carving! and there are such fine statues. oh, children, you must certainly come to strasburg before long and see the cathedral of which all germany is so proud." "strasburg was for a time the home of our greatest poet," said bertha. "i want to go there to see where he lived." the child was very fond of poetry, even though she was a little country girl. her father had a book containing some of goethe's ballads, and she loved to lie under the trees in the pleasant summer-time and repeat some of these poems. "they are just like music," she would say to herself. "a marble slab has been set up in the old fish market to mark the spot where goethe lived," said uncle fritz. "they say he loved the grand cathedral of the city, and it helped him to become a great writer when he was a young student there. i suppose its beauty awakened his own beautiful thoughts." the children became quiet as they thought of their country and the men who had made her so strong and great,--the poets, and the musicians, and the brave soldiers who had defended her from her enemies. uncle fritz was the first one to speak. "i will tell you a story of strasburg," he said. "it is about something that happened there a long time ago. you know, the city isn't on the rhine itself, but it is on a little stream flowing into the greater river. "well, once upon a time the people of zurich, in switzerland, asked the people of strasburg to join with them in a bond of friendship. each should help the other in times of danger. the people of strasburg did not think much of the idea. they said among themselves: 'what good can the little town of zurich do us? and, besides, it is too far away.' so they sent back word that they did not care to make such a bond. they were scarcely polite in their message, either. "when they heard the reply, the men of zurich were quite angry. they were almost ready to fight. but the youngest one of their councillors said: "'we will force them to eat their own words. indeed, they shall be made to give us a different answer. and it will come soon, too, if you will only leave the matter with me.' "'do as you please,' said the other councillors. they went back to their own houses, while the young man hurried home, rushed out into the kitchen and picked out the largest kettle there. "'wife, cook as much oatmeal as this pot will hold,' he commanded. "the woman wondered what in the world her husband could be thinking of. but she lost no time in guessing. she ordered her servants to make a big fire, while she herself stirred and cooked the great kettleful of oatmeal. "in the meanwhile, her husband hurried down to the pier, and got his swiftest boat ready for a trip down the river. then he gathered the best rowers in the town. "'come with me,' he said to two of them, when everything had been made ready for a trip. they hastened home with him, as he commanded. "'is the oatmeal ready?' he cried, rushing breathless into the kitchen. "his wife had just finished her work. the men lifted the kettle from the fire and ran with it to the waiting boat. it was placed in the stern and the oarsmen sprang to their places. "'pull, men! pull with all the strength you have, and we will go to strasburg in time to show those stupid people that, if it should be necessary, we live near enough to them to give them a hot supper.' "how the men worked! they rowed as they had never rowed before. "they passed one village after another. still they moved onward without stopping, till they found themselves at the pier of strasburg. "the councillor jumped out of the boat, telling two of his men to follow with the great pot of oatmeal. he led the way to the council-house, where he burst in with his strange present. "'i bring you a warm answer to your cold words,' he told the surprised councillors. he spoke truly, for the pot was still steaming. how amused they all were! "'what a clever fellow he is,' they said among themselves. 'surely we will agree to make the bond with zurich, if it holds many men like him.' "the bond was quickly signed and then, with laughter and good-will, the councillors gathered around the kettle with spoons and ate every bit of the oatmeal. "'it is excellent,' they all cried. and indeed it was still hot enough to burn the mouths of those who were not careful." "good! good!" cried the children, and they laughed heartily, even though it was a joke against their own people. their father and mother had also listened to the story and enjoyed it as much as the children. "another story, please, dear uncle fritz," they begged. but their father pointed to the clock. "too late, too late, my dears," he said. "if you sit up any longer, your mother will have to call you more than once in the morning. so, away to your beds, every one of you." chapter iv. the coffee-party "how would you like to be a wood-cutter, hans?" "i think it would be great sport. i like to hear the thud of the axe as it comes down on the trunk. then it is always an exciting time as the tree begins to bend and fall to the ground. somehow, it seems like a person. i can't help pitying it, either." hans had come over to the next village on an errand for his father. a big sawmill had been built on the side of the stream, and all the men in the place were kept busy cutting down trees in the black forest, or working in the sawmill. after the logs had been cut the right length, they were bound into rafts, and floated down the little stream to the rhine. "the rafts themselves seem alive," said hans to his friend. "you men know just how to bind the logs together with those willow bands, so they twist and turn about like living creatures as they move down the stream." "i have travelled on a raft all the way from here to cologne," answered the wood-cutter. "the one who steers must be skilful, for he needs to be very careful. you know the rafts grow larger all the time, don't you, hans?" "oh, yes. as the river becomes wider, the smaller ones are bound together. but is it true that the men sometimes take their families along with them?" "certainly. they set up tents, or little huts, on the rafts, so their wives and children can have a comfortable place to eat and sleep. then, too, if it rains, they can be sheltered from the storm." "i'd like to go with you sometime. you pass close to strasburg, and i could stop and visit uncle fritz. wouldn't it be fun!" "hans! hans!" called a girl's voice just then. "i don't see her, but i know that's bertha. she came over to the village with me this afternoon. one of her friends has a coffee-party and she invited us to it. so, good-bye." "good-bye, my lad. come and see me again. perhaps i can manage sometime to take you with me on a trip down the river." "thank you ever so much." hans hurried away, and was soon entering the house of a little friend who was celebrating her birthday with a coffee-party. there were several other children there. they were all dressed in their best clothes and looked very neat and nice. the boys wore long trousers and straight jackets. they looked like little old men. the girls had bright-coloured skirts and their white waists were fresh and stiff. their shoes were coarse and heavy, and made a good deal of noise as the children played the different games. but they were all so plump and rosy, it was good to look at them. "they are a pretty sight," said one of the neighbours, as she poured out the coffee. "they deserve to have a good time," said another woman with a kind, motherly face. "they will soon grow up, and then they will have to work hard to get a living." the coffee and cakes were a great treat to these village children. they did not get such a feast every day in the year. their mothers made cakes only for festivals and holidays, and coffee was seldom seen on their tables oftener than once a week. in the great cities and fine castles, where the rich people of germany had their homes, they could eat sweet dainties and drink coffee as often as they liked. but in the villages of the black forest, it was quite different. "good night, good night," said hans and bertha, as they left their friends and trudged off on a path through the woods. it was the shortest way home, and they knew their mother must be looking for them by this time. it was just sunset, but the children could not see the beautiful colours of the evening sky, after they had gone a short distance into the thick woods. "do you suppose there are any bears around?" whispered bertha. the trees looked very black. it seemed to the little girl as though she kept seeing the shadow of some big animal hiding behind them. "no, indeed," answered hans, quite scornfully. "too many people go along this path for bears to be willing to stay around here. you would have to go farther up into the forest to find them. but look quickly, bertha. do you see that rabbit jumping along? isn't he a big fellow?" "see! hans, he has noticed us. there he goes as fast as his legs can carry him." by this time, the children had reached the top of a hill. the trees grew very thick and close. on one side a torrent came rushing down over the rocks and stones. it seemed to say: "i cannot stop for any one. but come with me, come with me, and i will take you to the beautiful rhine. i will show you the way to pretty bridges, and great stone castles, and rare old cities. oh, this is a wonderful world, and you children of the black forest have a great deal to see yet." "i love to listen to running water," said bertha. "it always has a story to tell us." "do you see that light over there, away off in the distance?" asked hans. "it comes from a charcoal-pit. i can hear the voices of the men at their work." "i shouldn't like to stay out in the dark woods all the time and make charcoal," answered his sister. "i should get lonesome and long for the sunlight." "it isn't very easy work, either," said hans. "after the trees have been cut down, the pits have to be made with the greatest care, and the wood must be burned just so slowly to change it into charcoal. i once spent a day in the forest with some charcoal-burners. they told such good stories that night came before i had thought of it." "i can see the village ahead of us," said bertha, joyfully. a few minutes afterward, the children were running up the stone steps of their own home. "we had such a good time," hans told his mother, while bertha went to gretchen and gave her some cakes she had brought her from the coffee-party. "i'm so sorry you couldn't go," she told her sister. "perhaps i can next time," answered gretchen. "but, of course, we could not all leave mother when she had so much work to do. so i just kept busy and tried to forget all about it." "you dear, good gretchen! i'm going to try to be as patient and helpful as you are," said bertha, kissing her sister. chapter v. the beautiful castle "father's coming, father's coming," cried bertha, as she ran down the steps and out into the street. her father had been away for two days, and hans had gone with him. they had been to heidelberg. bertha and gretchen had never yet visited that city, although it was not more than twenty miles away. "oh, dear, i don't know where to begin," hans told the girls that evening. "of course, i liked to watch the students better than anything else. the town seems full of them. they all study in the university, of course, but they are on the streets a good deal. they seem to have a fine time of it. every one carries a small cane with a button on the end of it. they wear their little caps down over their foreheads on one side." "what colour do they have for their caps, hans?" asked gretchen. "all colours, i believe. some are red, some blue, some yellow, some green. oh, i can't tell you how many different kinds there are. but they were bright and pretty, and made the streets look as though it must be a festival day." "i have heard that the students fight a good many duels. is that so, hans?" "if you should see them, you would certainly think so. many of the fellows are real handsome, but their faces are scarred more often than not. "'the more scars i can show, the braver people will think i am.' that is what the students seem to think. they get up duels with each other on the smallest excuse. when they fight, they always try to strike the face. father says their duelling is good practice. it really helps to make them brave. if i were a student, i should want to fight duels, too." bertha shuddered. duelling was quite the fashion in german universities, but the little girl was very tender-hearted. she could not bear to think of her brother having his face cut up by the sword of any one in the world. "what do you think, girls?" hans went on. "father had to go to the part of the town nearest the castle. he said he should be busy for several hours, and i could do what i liked. so i climbed up the hill to the castle, and wandered all around it. i saw a number of english and american people there. i suppose they had come to heidelberg on purpose to see those buildings. "'isn't it beautiful!' i heard them exclaim again and again. and i saw a boy about my own age writing things about it in a note-book. he told his mother he was going to say it was the most beautiful ruin in germany. he was an american boy, but he spoke our language. i suppose he was just learning it, for he made ever so many mistakes. i could hardly tell what he was trying to say." "what did his mother answer?" asked bertha. "she nodded her head, and then pointed out some of the finest carvings and statues. but she and her son moved away from me before long, and then i found myself near some children of our country. they must have been rich, for they were dressed quite grandly. their governess was with them. she told them to notice how many different kinds of buildings there were, some of them richly carved, and some quite plain. 'you will find here palaces, towers, and fortresses, all together,' she said. 'for, in the old days, it was not only a grand home, but it was also a strong fortress.'" [illustration: courtyard of heidelberg castle.] "you know father told us it was not built all at once," said gretchen. "different parts were added during four hundred years." "yes, and he said it had been stormed by the enemy, and burned and plundered," added bertha. "it has been in the hands of those horrid frenchmen several different times. did you see the blown-up tower, hans?" "of course i did. half of it, you know, fell into the moat during one of the sieges, but linden-trees have grown about it, and it makes a shady nook in which to rest one's self." "you did not go inside of the castle, did you, hans?" asked gretchen. "no. it looked so big and gloomy, i stayed outside in the pretty gardens. i climbed over some of the moss-grown stairs, though, and i kept discovering something i hadn't seen before. here and there were old fountains and marble statues, all gray with age." "they say that under the castle are great, dark dungeons," said bertha, shivering at the thought. "what would a castle be without dungeons?" replied her brother. "of course there are dungeons. and there are also hidden, underground passages through which the people inside could escape in times of war and siege." "oh, hans! did you see the heidelberg tun?" asked gretchen. now, the heidelberg tun is the largest wine-cask in the whole world. people say that it holds forty-nine thousand gallons. just think of it! but it has not been filled for more than a hundred years. "no, i didn't see it," replied hans. "it is down in the cellar, and i didn't want to go there without father. i heard some of the visitors telling about the marks of the frenchmen's hatchets on its sides. one of the times they captured the castle, they tried to break open the tun. they thought it was full of wine. but they did not succeed in hacking through its tough sides." "good! good!" cried his sisters. they had little love for france and her people. that evening, after hans had finished telling the girls about his visit, their father told them the legend of count frederick, a brave and daring man who once lived in heidelberg castle. count frederick was so brave and successful that he was called "frederick the victorious." once upon a time he was attacked by the knights and bishops of the rhine, who had banded together against him. when he found what great numbers of soldiers were attacking his castle, count frederick was not frightened in the least. he armed his men with sharp daggers, and marched boldly out against his foes. they attacked the horses first of all. the daggers made short work, and the knights were soon brought to the ground. their armour was so heavy that it was an easy matter then to make them prisoners and take them into the castle. but frederick treated them most kindly. he ordered a great banquet to be prepared, and invited his prisoners to gather around the board, where all sorts of good things were served. one thing only was lacking. there was no bread. the guests thought it was because the servants had forgotten it, and one of them dared to ask for a piece. count frederick at once turned toward his steward and ordered the bread to be brought. now his master had privately talked with the steward and had told him what words to use at this time. "i am very sorry," said the steward, "but there is no bread." "you must bake some at once," ordered his master. "but we have no flour," was the answer. "you must grind some, then," was the command. "we cannot do so, for we have no grain." "then see that some is threshed immediately." "that is impossible, for the harvests have been burned down," replied the steward. "you can at least sow grain, that we may have new harvests as soon as possible." "we cannot even do that, for our enemies have burned down all the buildings where the grain was stored for seed-time." frederick now turned to his visitors, and told them they must eat their meat without bread. but that was not all. he told them they must give him enough money to build new houses and barns to take the places of those they had destroyed, and also to buy new seed for grain. "it is wrong," he said, sternly, "to carry on war against those who are helpless, and to take away their seeds and tools from the poor peasants." it was a sensible speech. it made the knights ashamed of the way they had been carrying on war in the country, and they left the castle wiser and better men. all this happened long, long ago, before germany could be called one country, for the different parts of the land were ruled over by different people and in different ways. this same count frederick, their father told them, had great love for the poor. when he was still quite young, he made a vow. he said, "i will never marry a woman of noble family." not long after this, he fell in love with a princess. but he could not ask her to marry him on account of the vow he had made. he was so unhappy that he went into the army. he did not wish to live, and hoped he would soon meet death. but the fair princess loved frederick as deeply as he loved her, and as soon as she learned of the vow he had made, she made up her mind what to do. she put on the dress of a poor singing-girl, and left her grand home. she followed frederick from place to place. they met face to face one beautiful evening. then it was that the princess told her lover she had given up her rank and title for his sake. how joyful she made him as he listened to her story! you may be sure they were soon married, and the young couple went to live in heidelberg castle, where they were as happy and as merry as the day is long. chapter vi. the great frederick "i declare, hans, i should think you would get tired of playing war," said bertha. she was sitting under the trees rocking her doll. she was playing it was a baby. hans had just come home after an afternoon of sport with his boy friends. but all they had done, bertha declared, was to play war and soldiers. she had watched them from her own yard. "tired of it! what a silly idea, bertha. it won't be many years before i shall be a real soldier. just picture me then! i shall have a uniform, and march to music. i don't know where i may go, either. who knows to what part of the world the emperor will send his soldiers at that time?" "i know where you would like to go in our own country," said bertha. "to berlin, of course. what a grand city it must be! father has been there. our schoolmaster was there while he served his time as a soldier. at this very moment, it almost seems as though i could hear the jingling of the officers' swords as they move along the streets. the regiments are drilled every day, and i don't know how often the soldiers have sham battles." hans jumped up from his seat under the tree and began to march up and down as though he were a soldier already. "attention, battalion! forward, march!" bertha called after him. but she was laughing as she spoke. she could not help it, hans looked so serious. at the same time she couldn't help envying her brother a little, and wishing she were a boy, too. it must be so grand to be a soldier and be ready to fight for the emperor who ruled over her country. [illustration: statue of frederick the great.] "the schoolmaster told us boys yesterday about the grand palace at berlin. the emperor lives in it when he is in the city," said hans, wheeling around suddenly and stopping in front of bertha. "i think you must have caught my thoughts," said the little girl, "for the emperor was in my mind when you began to speak." "well, never mind that. do you wish to hear about the palace?" "of course i do, hans." "the schoolmaster says it has six hundred rooms. just think of it! and one of them, called the white room, is furnished so grandly that , , marks were spent on it. you can't imagine it, bertha, of course. i can't, either." a german mark is worth about twenty-four cents of american money, so the furnishing of the room hans spoke of must have cost about $ , . it was a large sum, and it is no wonder the boy said he could hardly imagine so much money. "there are hundreds of halls in the palace," hans went on. "some of their walls are painted and others are hung with elegant silk draperies. the floors are polished so they shine like mirrors. then the pictures and the armour, bertha! it almost seemed as though i were there while the schoolmaster was describing them." "i never expect to see such lovely things," said his sober little sister. "but perhaps i shall go to berlin some day, hans. then i can see the statue of frederick the great, at any rate." "it stands opposite the palace," said her brother, "and cost more than any other bronze statue in the world." "how did you learn that, hans?" "the schoolmaster told us so. he said, too, that it ought to stir the blood of every true german to look at it. there the great frederick sits on horseback, wearing the robe in which he was crowned, and looking out from under his cocked hat with his bright, sharp eyes. that statue alone is enough to make the soldiers who march past it ready to give their lives for their country." "he lived when the different kingdoms were separated from each other, and there was no one ruler over all of them. i know that," said bertha. "yes, he was the king of prussia. and he fought the seven years' war with france and came out victorious. hardly any one thought he could succeed, for there was so much against him. but he was brave and determined. those two things were worth everything else." "that wasn't the only war he won, either, hans." "no, but it must have been the greatest. did you know, bertha, that he was unhappy when he was young? his father was so strict that he tried to run away from germany with two of his friends. the king found out what they meant to do. one of the friends was put to death, and the other managed to escape." "what did his father do to frederick?" bertha's eyes were full of pity for a prince who was so unhappy as to wish to run away. "the king ordered his son to be put to death. but i suppose he was angry at the time, for he changed his mind before the sentence was carried out, and forgave him." "i wonder how kings and emperors live," said bertha, slowly. it seemed as though everything must be different with them from what it was with other people. "i'll tell you about frederick, if you wish to listen." "of course i do, hans." "in the first place, he didn't care anything about fine clothes, even if he was a king and was born in the grand palace at berlin. his coat was often very shabby. "in the next place, he slept only about four hours out of the whole twenty-four for a good many years. he got up at three o'clock on summer mornings, and in the winter-time he was always dressed by five, at the very latest. "while his hair-dresser was at work, he opened his most important letters. after that, he attended to other business affairs of the country. these things were done before eating or drinking. but when they had been attended to, the king went into his writing-room and drank a number of glasses of cold water. as he wrote, he sipped coffee and ate a little fruit from time to time. "he loved music very dearly, and sometimes rested from his work and played on his flute. "dinner was the only regular meal of the day. it was served at twelve o'clock, and lasted three or four hours. there was a bill of fare, and the names of the cooks were given as well as the dishes they prepared." "did the king ever let them know whether he was pleased or not with their cooking?" asked bertha. "yes. he marked the dishes he liked best with a cross. he enjoyed his dinner, and generally had a number of friends to eat with him. there was much joking, and there were many clever speeches. "when the meal was over, the king played on his flute a short time, and then attended to more business." "did he work till bedtime, hans?" "oh, no. in the evening there was a concert or lecture, or something like that. but, all the same, the king was a hardworking man, even in times of peace." "he loved his people dearly, father once told me," said bertha. "he said he understood his subjects and they understood him." "yes, and that reminds me of a story the schoolmaster told. king frederick was once riding through the street when he saw a crowd of people gathered together. he said to his groom, 'go and see what is the matter.' the man came back and told the king that the people were all looking at a caricature of frederick himself. a caricature, you know, is a comical portrait. "perhaps you think the king was angry when he heard this. not at all. he said, 'go and hang the picture lower down, so they will not have to stretch their necks to see it.' "the crowd heard the words. 'hurrah for the king!' they cried. at the same time, they began to tear the picture into pieces." "frederick the great could appreciate a joke," said bertha. "i should think the people must have loved him." "he had some fine buildings put up in his lifetime," hans went on. "a new palace was built in berlin, besides another one the king called 'sans souci.' those are french words meaning, 'without a care.' he called the place by that name because he said he was free-hearted and untroubled while he stayed there. "i've told you these things because you are a girl. but i'll tell you what i like to think of best of all. it's the stories of the wars in which he fought and in which he showed such wonderful courage. so, hurrah for frederick the great, king of prussia!" hans made a salute as though he stood in the presence of the great king. then he started for the wood-pile, where he was soon sawing logs with as much energy as if he were fighting against the enemies of his country. chapter vii. the brave princess "listen, children! that must be the song of a nightingale. how sweet it is!" it was a lovely sunday afternoon. every one in the family had been to church in the morning, and come home to a good dinner of bean soup and potato salad. then the father had said: "let us take a long walk over the fields and through the woods. the world is beautiful to-day. we can enjoy it best by leaving the house behind us." some of the neighbours joined the merry party. the men smoked their pipes, while the women chatted together and the children frolicked about them and picked wild flowers. how many sweet smells there were in the fields! how gaily the birds sang! the air seemed full of peace and joy. they all wandered on till they came to a cascade flowing down over some high rocks. trees grew close to the waterfall, and bent over it as though to hide it from curious eyes. it was a pretty spot. "let us sit down at the foot of this cascade," said bertha's father. "it is a pleasant place to rest." every one liked the plan. bertha nestled close to her father's side. "tell us a story. please do," she said. "ask neighbour abel. he knows many a legend of just such places as this. he has lived in the hartz mountains, and they are filled with fairy stories." the rest of the party heard what was said. "neighbour abel! a story, a story," they cried. of course the kind-hearted german could not refuse such a general request. besides, he liked to tell stories. taking his long pipe out of his mouth, he laid it down on the ground beside him. then he cleared his throat and began to speak. "look above you, friends. do you see that mark on the rocky platform overhead? i noticed it as soon as i got here. it made me think of a wild spot in the hartz mountains where there is just such a mark. the people call it 'the horse's hoof-print.' i will tell you how they explain its coming there. "once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. her name was brunhilda, and she lived in bohemia. she lived a gay and happy life, like most young princesses, till one day a handsome prince arrived at her father's palace. he was the son of the king of the hartz country. "of course, you can all guess what happened. the prince fell in love with the princess, and she returned his love. the day was set for the wedding, and the young prince went home to prepare for the great event. "but he had been gone only a short time when a powerful giant arrived at brunhilda's home. he came from the far north. his name was bodo. "he asked for the princess in marriage, but her heart had already been given away. she did not care for the giant, even though he gave her the most elegant presents,--a beautiful white horse, jewels set in gold, and chains of amber. "'i dare not refuse the giant,' said brunhilda's father. 'he is very powerful, and we must not make him angry. you must marry him, my daughter, in three days.' "the poor maiden wept bitterly. it seemed as though her heart would break. but she was a clever girl, and she soon dried her tears and began to think of some plan by which she might yet be free. she began to smile upon the giant and treat him with great kindness. "'i should like to try the beautiful horse you brought me,' she said to him. he was much pleased. the horse was brought to the door. the princess mounted him and rode for a time up and down in front of the palace. "the very next day was that set apart for the wedding. the castle was filled with guests who feasted and made merry. the giant entered into everything with a will. he laughed till the floors and walls shook. little did he think what was taking place. for the princess slipped out of the castle when no one was watching, hurried into the stable, and leaped upon the back of her swift white horse. "'lower the drawbridge instantly,' she called to the guard. she passed over it, and away she flew like the wind. "you were too late, too late, o giant, when you discovered that brunhilda was missing. "he flew out of the castle, and on the back of his own fiery black horse he dashed after the runaway princess. "on they went! on, on, without stopping. over the plains, up and down the hillsides, through the villages. the sun set and darkness fell upon the world, but there was never a moment's rest for the maiden on the white horse or the giant lover on his black steed. "sometimes in the darkness sparks were struck off from the horses' hoofs as they passed over rough and rocky places. these sparks always showed the princess ahead and slowly increasing the distance between herself and her pursuer. "when the morning light first appeared, the maiden could see the summit of the brocken ahead of her. it was the home of her lover. her heart leaped within her. if she could only reach it she would be safe. "but alas! her horse suddenly stood still. he would not move. he had reached the edge of a precipice. there it lay, separating the princess from love and safety. "the brave girl had not a moment to lose. the giant was fast drawing near. she wheeled her horse around; then, striking his sides a sharp blow with her whip, she urged him to leap across the precipice. "the spring must be strong and sure. it was a matter of life and death. the chasm was deep. if the horse should fail to strike the other side securely, it meant a horrible end to beast and rider. "but he did not fail. the feet of the brave steed came firmly down upon the rocky platform. so heavily did they fall that the imprint of a hoof was left upon the rock. "the princess was now safe. it would be an easy matter for her to reach her lover's side. "as for the giant, he tried to follow brunhilda across the chasm. but he was too heavy and his horse failed to reach the mark. the two sank together to the bottom of the precipice." every one thanked the story-teller, and begged him to tell more of the hartz mountains, where he had spent his boyhood days. the children were delighted when he spoke of the gnomes, in whom he believed when he was a child. "every time i went out in the dark woods," he said, "i was on the lookout for these funny little fairies of the underground world. i wanted to see them, but at the same time i was afraid i should meet them. "i remember one time that my mother sent me on an errand through the woods at twilight. i was in the thickest part of the woods, when i heard a sound that sent a shiver down my back. "'it is a witch, or some other dreadful being,' i said to myself. 'nothing else could make a sound like that.' my teeth chattered. my legs shook so, i could hardly move. somehow or other, i managed to keep on. it seemed as though hours passed before i saw the lights of the village. yet i suppose it was not more than fifteen minutes. "when i was once more safe inside my own home, i told my father and mother about my fright. "'it was no witch, my child,' said my father. 'the sound you describe was probably the cry of a wildcat. i thank heaven that you are safe. a wildcat is not a very pleasant creature to meet in a lonely place.' "after that, i was never sent away from the village after dark. "my boy friends and i often came across badgers and deer, and sometimes foxes made their way into the village in search of poultry, but i never came nearer to meeting a wildcat than the time of which i have just told you." "what work did you do out of school hours?" asked hans. the boy was thinking of the toys he had to carve. "my mother raised canary-birds, and i used to help her a great deal. nearly every woman in the village was busy at the same work. what concerts we did have in those days! mother tended every young bird she raised with the greatest care. would it become a good singer and bring a fair price? we waited anxiously for the first notes, and then watched to see how the voices gained in strength and sweetness. "it was a pleasant life, and i was very happy among the birds in our little village. would you like to hear a song i used to sing at that time? it is all about the birds and bees and flowers." "do sing it for us," cried every one. herr abel had a good voice and they listened with pleasure to his song. this is the first stanza: "i have been on the mountain that the song-birds love best. they were sitting, were flitting, they were building their nest. they were sitting, were flitting, they were building their nest." [illustration: bertha's home.] after he had finished, he told about the mines in which some of his friends worked. it was a hard life, with no bright sunlight to cheer the men in those deep, dark caverns underground. "of course you all know that the deepest mine in the world is in the hartz mountains." his friends nodded their heads, while hans whispered to bertha, "i should like to go down in that mine just for the sake of saying i have been as far into the earth as any living person." "the sun is setting, and there is a chill in the air," said bertha's father. "let us go home." chapter viii. what the waves bring bertha's mother had just come in from a hard morning's work in the fields. she had been helping her husband weed the garden. she spent a great deal of time outdoors in the summer-time, as many german peasant women do. they do a large share of the work in ploughing the grain-fields and harvesting the crops. they are much stronger than their american cousins. "supper is all ready and waiting for you," said bertha. the little girl had prepared a dish of sweet fruit soup which her mother had taught her to make. "it is very good," said her father when he had tasted it. "my little bertha is getting to be quite a housekeeper." "indeed, it is very good," said her mother. "you learned your lesson well, my child." bertha was quite abashed by so much praise. she looked down upon her plate and did not lift her eyes again till gretchen began to tell of a new amber bracelet which had just been given to one of the neighbours. "it is beautiful," said gretchen, quite excitedly. "the beads are such a clear, lovely yellow. they look so pretty on frau braun's neck, i don't wonder she is greatly pleased with her present." "who sent it to her?" asked her mother. "her brother in cologne. he is doing well at his trade, and so he bought this necklace at a fair and sent it to his sister as a remembrance. he wrote her a letter all about the sights in cologne, and asked frau braun to come and visit him and his wife. "he promised her in the letter that if she would come, he would take her to see the grand cologne cathedral. he said thousands of strangers visit it every year, because every one knows it is one of the most beautiful buildings in all europe. "then he said she should also see the church of saint ursula, where the bones of the eleven thousand maidens can still be seen in their glass cases." "do you know the story of st. ursula, gretchen?" asked her father. "yes, indeed, sir. ursula was the daughter of an english king. she was about to be married, but she said that before the wedding she would go to rome on a pilgrimage. "eleven thousand young girls went with the princess. on her way home she was married, but when the wedding party had got as far as cologne, they were attacked by the savage huns. every one was killed,--ursula, her husband, and the eleven thousand maidens. the church was afterward built in her memory. ursula was made a saint by the pope, and the bones of the young girls were preserved in glass cases in the church." "did frau braun tell of anything else her brother wrote?" asked her mother. "he spoke of the bridge of boats across the river, and said she would enjoy watching it open and shut to let the steamers and big rafts pass through. and he told of the cologne water that is sold in so many of the shops. it is hard to tell which makes the town most famous, the great cathedral or the cologne water." "father, how was the bridge of boats made?" asked bertha. "the boats were moored in a line across the river. planks were then laid across the tops and fastened upon them. vessels cannot pass under a bridge of this kind, so it has to be opened from time to time. they say it is always interesting to see this done." "yes, frau braun said she would rather see the bridge of boats than anything else in the city. she has already begun to plan how she can save up enough money to make the trip." "i will go over there to-morrow to see he new necklace," said bertha. "but what is amber, father?" "if you should go to the northern part of germany, bertha, you would see great numbers of men, women, and children, busy on the shores of the ocean. the work is greatest in the rough days of autumn, when a strong wind is blowing from the northeast. "then the men dress themselves as though they were going out into a storm. they arm themselves with nets and plunge into the waves, which are bringing treasure to the shore. it is the beautiful amber we admire so much. "the women and children are waiting on the sands, and as the men bring in their nets, the contents are given into their hands. they separate the precious lumps of amber from the weeds to which they are clinging." their father stopped to fill his pipe, and the children thought he had come to the end of the story. "but you haven't told us yet what amber is," said bertha. "be patient, my little one, and you shall hear," replied her father, patting her head. "as yet, i have not half told the story. but i will answer your question at once. "a long time ago, longer than you can imagine, bertha, forests were growing along the shores of the baltic sea. there was a great deal of gum in the trees of these forests. it oozed out of the trees in the same manner as gum from the spruce-tree and resin from the pine. "storms arose, and beds of sand and clay drifted over the forests. they were buried away for thousands of years, it may be. but the motion of the sea washes up pieces of the gum, which is of light weight. "the gum has become changed while buried in the earth such a long, long time. wise men use the word 'fossilized' when they speak of what has happened to it. the now beautiful, changed gum is called amber. "there are different ways of getting it. i told you how it comes drifting in on the waves when the winds are high and the water is rough. but on the pleasant summer days, when the sea is smooth and calm, the men go out a little way from the shore in boats. they float about, looking earnestly over the sides of the boats to the bottom of the sea. "all at once, they see something. down go their long hooks through the water. a moment afterward, they begin to tow a tangle of stones and seaweed to the shore. as soon as they land, they begin to sort out the great mass. perhaps they will rejoice in finding large pieces of amber in the collection. "there is still another way of getting amber. i know hans will be most interested in what i am going to say now. it has more of danger in it, and boys like to hear anything in the way of adventure." hans looked up and smiled. his father knew him well. he was a daring lad. he was always longing for the time when he should grow up and be a soldier, and possibly take part in some war. "children," their father went on, "you have all heard of divers and of their dangerous work under the sea. gretchen was telling me the other day about her geography lesson, and of the pearl-divers along the shores of india. i did not tell her then that some men spend their lives diving for amber on the shores of our own country. "they wear rubber suits and helmets and air-chests of sheet iron." "how can they see where they are going?" asked bertha. "there are glass openings in their helmets, and they can look through these. they go out in boats. the crew generally consists of six men. two of them are divers, and four men have charge of the air-pumps. these pumps force fresh air down through tubes fastened to the helmet of each diver. besides these men there is an overseer who has charge of everything. "sometimes the divers stay for hours on the bed of the sea, and work away at the amber tangles." "but suppose anything happens to the air-tubes and the men fail to get as much air as they need?" said hans. "is there any way of letting those in the boat know they are in trouble? and, besides that, how do the others know when it is time to raise the divers with their precious loads?" "there is a safety-rope reaching from the boat to the men. when they pull this rope it is a sign that they wish to be drawn up. but i have told you as much about amber now as you will be able to remember." "are you very tired, father dear?" said bertha, in her most coaxing tone. "why should i be tired? what do you wish to ask me? come, speak out plainly, little one." "you tell such lovely fairy-tales, papa, i was just wishing for one. see! the moon is just rising above the tree-tops. it is the very time for stories of the wonderful beings." her father smiled. "it shall be as you wish, bertha. it is hard to refuse you when you look at me that way. come, children, let us sit in the doorway. goodwife, put down your work and join us while i tell the story of siegfried, the old hero of germany." chapter ix. the magic sword far away in the long ago there lived a mighty king with his goodwife and his brave son, siegfried. their home was at xanten, where the river rhine flows lazily along. the young prince was carefully taught. but when his education was nearly finished, his father said: "siegfried, there is a mighty smith named mimer. it will be well for you to learn all you can of him in regard to the making of arms." so siegfried went to work at the trade of a smith. it was not long before he excelled his teacher. this pleased mimer, who spent many spare hours with his pupil, telling him stories of the olden times. after awhile, he took siegfried into his confidence. he said: "there is a powerful knight in burgundy who has challenged every smith of my country to make a weapon strong enough to pierce his coat of mail. "i long to try," mimer went on, "but i am now old and have not strength enough to use the heavy hammer." at these words siegfried jumped up in great excitement. "i will make the sword, dear master," he cried. "be of good cheer. it shall be strong enough to cut the knight's armour in two." early the next morning, siegfried began his work. for seven days and seven nights the constant ringing of his hammer could be heard. at the end of that time siegfried came to his master with a sword of the finest steel in his right hand. mimer looked it all over. he then held it in a stream of running water in which he had thrown a fine thread. the water carried the thread against the edge of the sword, where it was cut in two. "it is without a fault," cried mimer with delight. "i can do better than that," answered siegfried, and he took the sword and broke it into pieces. again he set to work. for seven more days and seven more nights he was busy at his forge. at the end of that time he brought a polished sword to his master. mimer looked it over with the greatest care and made ready to test it. he threw the fleeces of twelve sheep into the stream. the current carried them on its bosom to siegfried's sword. instantly, each piece was divided as it met the blade. mimer shouted aloud in his joy. "balmung" (for that was the name siegfried gave the sword) "is the finest weapon man ever made," he cried. siegfried was now prepared to meet the proud knight of burgundy. the very first thrust of the sword, balmung, did the work. the head and shoulders of the giant were severed from the rest of the body. they rolled down the hillside and fell into the rhine, where they can be seen even now, when the water is clear. at least, so runs the story. the trunk remained on the hilltop and was turned to stone. soon after this mimer found that siegfried longed to see the world and make himself famous. so he bound the sword balmung to the young prince's side, and told him to seek a certain person, who would give him a fine war-horse. siegfried went to this man, from whom he obtained a matchless steed. in fact it had descended from the great god odin's magic horse. siegfried, you can see, must have lived in a time when men believed in gods and other wonderful beings. he was now all ready for his adventures, but before starting out, mimer told him of a great treasure of gold guarded by a fearful serpent. this treasure was spread out over a plain called the glittering heath. no man had yet been able to take it, because of its terrible guardian. siegfried was not in the least frightened by the stories he heard of the monster. he started out on his dangerous errand with a heart full of courage. at last, he drew near the plain. he could see it on the other side of the rhine, from the hilltop where he was standing. with no one to help him, not even taking his magic horse with him, he hurried down the hillside and sprang into a boat on the shore. an old man had charge of the boat, and as he rowed siegfried across, he gave him good advice. this old man, as it happened, was the god odin, who loved siegfried and wished to see him succeed. "dig a deep trench along the path the serpent has worn on his way to the river when in search of water," said the old boatman. "hide yourself in the trench, and, as the serpent passes along, you must thrust your sword deep into his body." it was good advice. siegfried did as odin directed him. he went to work on the trench at once. it was soon finished, and then the young prince, sword in hand, was lying in watch for the dread monster. he did not have long to wait. he soon heard the sound of rolling stones. then came a loud hiss, and immediately afterward he felt the serpent's fiery breath on his cheek. and now the serpent rolled over into the ditch, and siegfried was covered by the folds of his huge body. he did not fear or falter. he thrust balmung, his wonderful sword, deep into the monster's body. the blood poured forth in such torrents that the ditch began to fill fast. it was a time of great danger for siegfried. he would have been drowned if the serpent in his death-agony had not rolled over on one side and given him a chance to free himself. in a moment more he was standing, safe and sound, by the side of the ditch. his bath in the serpent's blood had given him a great blessing. hereafter it would be impossible for any one to wound him except in one tiny place on his shoulder. a leaf had fallen on this spot, and the blood had not touched it. "what did siegfried do with the golden treasure?" asked hans, when his father had reached this point in the story. "he had not sought it for himself, but for mimer's sake. all he cared for was the power of killing the serpent." as soon as this was done, mimer drew near and showed himself ungrateful and untrue. he was so afraid siegfried would claim some of the treasure that he secretly drew balmung from out the serpent's body, and made ready to thrust it into siegfried. but at that very moment his foot slipped in the monster's blood, and he fell upon the sword and was instantly killed. siegfried was filled with horror when he saw what had happened. he sprang upon his horse's back and fled as fast as possible from the dreadful scene. "what happened to siegfried after that? did he have any more adventures?" asked bertha. "yes, indeed. there were enough to fill a book. but there is one in particular you girls would like to hear. it is about a beautiful princess whom he freed from a spell which had been cast upon her." "what was her name, papa?" asked gretchen. "brunhild, the queen of isenland. she had been stung by the thorn of sleep." odin, the great god, had said, "brunhild shall not awake till some hero is brave enough to fight his way through the flames which shall constantly surround the palace. he must then go to the side of the sleeping maiden and break the charm by a kiss upon her forehead." when siegfried, in his wanderings, heard the story of brunhild, he said, "i will make my way through the flames and will myself rescue the fair princess." he leaped upon the back of his magic steed, and together they fought their way through the fire that surrounded the palace of the sleeping beauty. he reached the gates in safety. there was no sign of life about the place. every one was wrapped in a deep sleep. siegfried made his way to the room of the enchanted princess. ah! there she lay, still and beautiful, with no knowledge of what was going on around her. the young knight knelt by her side. leaning over her, he pressed a kiss upon her forehead. she moved slightly; then, opening her blue eyes, she smiled sweetly upon her deliverer. at the same moment every one else in the palace woke up and went on with whatever had been interrupted when sleep overcame them. siegfried remained for six months with the fair brunhild and her court. every day was given up to music and feasting, games and songs. time passed like a beautiful dream. no one knows how long the young knight might have enjoyed this happy life if odin had not sent two birds, thought and memory, to remind him there were other things for him yet to do. he did not stop to bid brunhild farewell, but leaped upon his horse's back and rode away in search of new adventures. "dear me, children," exclaimed their father, looking at the clock, "it is long past the time you should be in your soft, warm beds." "papa, do you know what day to-morrow is?" whispered bertha, as she kissed him good night. "my darling child's birthday. it is ten years to-morrow since your eyes first looked upon the sunlight. they have been ten happy years to us all, though our lives are full of work. what do you say to that, my little one?" "very happy, papa dear. you and mother are so kind! i ought to be good as well as happy." "she is a faithful child," said her mother, after bertha had left the room. "that is why i have a little surprise ready for to-morrow. i have baked a large birthday cake and shall ask her little friends to share it with her. "her aunt has finished the new dress i bought for her, and i have made two white aprons, besides. she will be a happy child when she sees her presents." the mother closed her eyes and made a silent prayer to the all-father that bertha's life should be as joyful as her tenth birthday gave promise of being. the end. the little cousin series the most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, and adventures. each one vol., mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or more full-page illustrations in color. price per volume . _by mary hazelton wade (unless otherwise indicated)_ =our little african cousin= =our little alaskan cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little arabian cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little armenian cousin= =our little brown cousin= =our little canadian cousin= by elizabeth r. macdonald =our little chinese cousin= by isaac taylor headland =our little cuban cousin= =our little dutch cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little english cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little eskimo cousin= =our little french cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little german cousin= =our little hawaiian cousin= =our little hindu cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little indian cousin= =our little irish cousin= =our little italian cousin= =our little japanese cousin= =our little jewish cousin= =our little korean cousin= by h. lee m. pike =our little mexican cousin= by edward c. butler =our little norwegian cousin= =our little panama cousin= by h. lee m. pike =our little philippine cousin= =our little porto rican cousin= =our little russian cousin= =our little scotch cousin= by blanche mcmanus =our little siamese cousin= =our little spanish cousin= by mary f. nixon-roulet =our little swedish cousin= by claire m. coburn =our little swiss cousin= =our little turkish cousin= the goldenrod library the goldenrod library contains stories which appeal alike both to children and to their parents and guardians. each volume is well illustrated from drawings by competent artists, which, together with their handsomely decorated uniform binding, showing the goldenrod, usually considered the emblem of america, is a feature of their manufacture. each one volume, small mo, illustrated . list of titles =aunt nabby's children.= by frances hodges white. =child's dream of a star, the.= by charles dickens. =flight of rosy dawn, the.= by pauline bradford mackie. =findelkind.= by ouida. =fairy of the rhone, the.= by a. comyns carr. =gatty and i.= by frances e. crompton. =helena's wonderworld.= by frances hodges white. =jerry's reward.= by evelyn snead barnett. =la belle nivernaise.= by alphonse daudet. =little king davie.= by nellie hellis. =little peterkin vandike.= by charles stuart pratt. =little professor, the.= by ida horton cash. =peggy's trial.= by mary knight potter. =prince yellowtop.= by kate whiting patch. =provence rose, a.= by ouida. =seventh daughter, a.= by grace wickham curran. =sleeping beauty, the.= by martha baker dunn. =small, small child, a.= by e. livingston prescott. =susanne.= by frances j. delano. =water people, the.= by charles lee sleight. =young archer, the.= by charles e. brimblecom. cosy corner series it is the intention of the publishers that this series shall contain only the very highest and purest literature,--stories that shall not only appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with them in their joys and sorrows. the numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known artists, and each volume has a separate attractive cover design. each vol., mo, cloth . _by annie fellows johnston_ =the little colonel.= (trade mark.) the scene of this story is laid in kentucky. its heroine is a small girl, who is known as the little colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school southern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous in the region. =the giant scissors.= this is the story of joyce and of her adventures in france. joyce is a great friend of the little colonel, and in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences of the "house party" and the "holidays." =two little knights of kentucky.= who were the little colonel's neighbors. in this volume the little colonel returns to us like an old friend, but with added grace and charm. she is not, however, the central figure of the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights." =mildred's inheritance.= a delightful little story of a lonely english girl who comes to america and is befriended by a sympathetic american family who are attracted by her beautiful speaking voice. by means of this one gift she is enabled to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one. =cicely and other stories for girls.= the readers of mrs. johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young people. =aunt 'liza's hero and other stories.= a collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys and most girls. =big brother.= a story of two boys. the devotion and care of steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale. =ole mammy's torment.= "ole mammy's torment" has been fitly called "a classic of southern life." it relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. =the story of dago.= in this story mrs. johnston relates the story of dago, a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. dago tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing. =the quilt that jack built.= a pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the course of his life many years after it was accomplished. =flip's islands of providence.= a story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph, well worth the reading. _by edith robinson_ =a little puritan's first christmas.= a story of colonial times in boston, telling how christmas was invented by betty sewall, a typical child of the puritans, aided by her brother sam. =a little daughter of liberty.= the author introduces this story as follows: "one ride is memorable in the early history of the american revolution, the well-known ride of paul revere. equally deserving of commendation is another ride,--the ride of anthony severn,--which was no less historic in its action or memorable in its consequences." =a loyal little maid.= a delightful and interesting story of revolutionary days, in which the child heroine, betsey schuyler, renders important services to george washington. =a little puritan rebel.= this is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the gallant sir harry vane was governor of massachusetts. =a little puritan pioneer.= the scene of this story is laid in the puritan settlement at charlestown. =a little puritan bound girl.= a story of boston in puritan days, which is of great interest to youthful readers. =a little puritan cavalier.= the story of a "little puritan cavalier" who tried with all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead crusaders. =a puritan knight errant.= the story tells of a young lad in colonial times who endeavored to carry out the high ideals of the knights of olden days. _by ouida (louise de la ramée)_ =a dog of flanders:= a christmas story. too well and favorably known to require description. =the nurnberg stove.= this beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price. _by frances margaret fox_ =the little giant's neighbours.= a charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden. =farmer brown and the birds.= a little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best friends. =betty of old mackinaw.= a charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little readers who like stories of "real people." =brother billy.= the story of betty's brother, and some further adventures of betty herself. =mother nature's little ones.= curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors. =how christmas came to the mulvaneys.= a bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. the wonderful never-to-be forgotten christmas that came to them is the climax of a series of exciting incidents. _by miss mulock_ =the little lame prince.= a delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother. =adventures of a brownie.= the story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him. =his little mother.= miss mulock's short stories for children are a constant source of delight to them, and "his little mother," in this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers. =little sunshine's holiday.= an attractive story of a summer outing. "little sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters for which miss mulock is so justly famous. _by marshall saunders_ =for his country.= a sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country; written with that charm which has endeared miss saunders to hosts of readers. =nita, the story of an irish setter.= in this touching little book, miss saunders shows how dear to her heart are all of god's dumb creatures. =alpatok, the story of an eskimo dog.= alpatok, an eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen from his master and left to starve in a strange city, but was befriended and cared for, until he was able to return to his owner. miss saunders's story is based on truth, and the pictures in the book of "alpatok" are based on a photograph of the real eskimo dog who had such a strange experience. _by will allen dromgoole_ =the farrier's dog and his fellow.= this story, written by the gifted young southern woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style. =the fortunes of the fellow.= those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "the farrier's dog and his fellow" will welcome the further account of the adventures of baydaw and the fellow at the home of the kindly smith. =the best of friends.= this continues the experiences of the farrier's dog and his fellow, written in miss dromgoole's well-known charming style. =down in dixie.= a fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of alabama children who move to florida and grow up in the south. _by marian w. wildman_ =loyalty island.= an account of the adventures of four children and their pet dog on an island, and how they cleared their brother from the suspicion of dishonesty. =theodore and theodora.= this is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mischievous twins, and continues the adventures of the interesting group of children in "loyalty island." _by charles g. d. roberts_ =the cruise of the yacht dido.= the story of two boys who turned their yacht into a fishing boat to earn money to pay for a college course, and of their adventures while exploring in search of hidden treasure. =the young acadian.= the story of a young lad of acadia who rescued a little english girl from the hands of savages. =the lord of the air.= the story of the eagle =the king of the mamozekel.= the story of the moose =the watchers of the camp-fire.= the story of the panther =the haunter of the pine gloom.= the story of the lynx =the return to the trails.= the story of the bear =the little people of the sycamore.= the story of the raccoon _by other authors_ =the great scoop.= _by molly elliot seawell_ a capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of a bright, enterprising, likable youngster employed thereon. =john whopper.= the late bishop clark's popular story of the boy who fell through the earth and came out in china, with a new introduction by bishop potter. =the dole twins.= _by kate upson clark_ the adventures of two little people who tried to earn money to buy crutches for a lame aunt. an excellent description of child-life about , which will greatly interest and amuse the children of to-day, whose life is widely different. =larry hudson's ambition.= _by james otis_, author of "toby tyler," etc. larry hudson is a typical american boy, whose hard work and enterprise gain him his ambition,--an education and a start in the world. =the little christmas shoe.= _by jane p. scott woodruff_ a touching story of yule-tide. =wee dorothy.= _by laura updegraff_ a story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. with a bit of sadness at the beginning, the story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether wholesome in every way. =the king of the golden river:= a legend of stiria. _by john ruskin_ written fifty years or more ago, and not originally intended for publication, this little fairy-tale soon became known and made a place for itself. =a child's garden of verses.= _by r. l. stevenson_ mr. stevenson's little volume is too well known to need description. it will be heartily welcomed in this new and attractive edition. * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious punctuation errors repaired. [illustration: book cover] [illustration: unexpected results of jimmy's efforts to trap pigs. [_page_ ]] the adventures of jimmy brown _written by himself_ and edited by w. l. alden illustrated [illustration] new york and london harper & brothers publishers copyright, , by _harper & brothers_. _all rights reserved._ contents page mr. martin's game mr. martin's scalp a private circus burglars mr. martin's eye playing circus mr. martin's leg our concert our baby our snow man art an awful scene screw-heads my monkey the end of my monkey the old, old story bee-hunting prompt obedience our ice-cream my pig going to be a pirate rats and mice hunting the rhinoceros down cellar our baby again studying wasps a terrible mistake our bull-fight our balloon our new walk a steam chair animals a pleasing experiment traps an accident a pillow fight sue's wedding our new dog lightning my camera freckles santa claus illustrations. page _unexpected results of jimmy's efforts to trap pigs_ frontispiece _"oh, my!"_ _the trapeze performance_ _there was the awfullest fight you ever saw_ _we built the biggest snow man i ever heard of_ _the moment they saw the baby they said the most dreadful things_ _screw-heads_ , _my monkey_ - _the end of my monkey_ - _wasn't there a circus in that dining-room!_ _sue's ice-cream party_ _sue had opened the box_ _then he fell into the hot-bed, and broke all the glass_ _they thought they were both burglars_ _he went twenty feet right up into the air_ _presently it went slowly up_ _prying the boys out_ _it had shut up like a jack-knife_ _"we've been playing we were pigs, ma"_ _he lit right on the man's head_ _he pinched just as hard as he could pinch_ _i never was so frightened in my life_ _she gave an awful shriek and fainted away_ _how that dog did pull!_ _we hurried into the room_ _i did get a beautiful picture_ _mother and sue made a dreadful fuss_ _they got harry out all safe_ the adventures of jimmy brown. mr. martin's game. what if he is a great deal older than i am! that doesn't give him any right to rumple my hair, does it? i'm willing to respect old age, of course, but i want my hair respected too. but rumpling hair isn't enough for mr. martin; he must call me "bub," and "sonny." i might stand "sonny," but i won't stand being called "bub" by any living man--not if i can help it. i've told him three or four times "my name isn't 'bub,' mr. martin. my name's jim, or jimmy," but he would just grin in an exhausperating kind of way, and keep on calling me "bub." my sister sue doesn't like him any better than i do. he comes to see her about twice a week, and i've heard her say, "goodness me there's that tiresome old bachelor again." but she treats him just as polite as she does anybody; and when he brings her candy, she says, "oh mr. martin you are _too_ good." there's a great deal of make-believe about girls, i think. now that i've mentioned candy, i will say that he might pass it around, but he never thinks of such a thing. mr. travers, who is the best of all sue's young men, always brings candy with him, and gives me a lot. then he generally gives me a quarter to go to the post-office for him, because he forgot to go, and expects something very important. it takes an hour to go to the post-office and back, but i'd do anything for such a nice man. one night--it was mr. travers's regular night--mr. martin came, and wasn't sue mad! she knew mr. travers would come in about half an hour, and she always made it a rule to keep her young men separate. she sent down word that she was busy, and would be down-stairs after a while. would mr. martin please sit down and wait. so he sat down on the front piazza and waited. i was sitting on the grass, practising mumble-te-peg a little, and by-and-by mr. martin says, "well, bub, what are you doing?" "playing a game," says i. "want to learn it?" "well, i don't care if i do," says he. so he came out and sat on the grass, and i showed him how to play. just then mr. travers arrived, and sue came down, and was awfully glad to see both her friends. "but what in the world are you doing?" she says to mr. martin. when she heard that he was learning the game, she said, "how interesting do play one game." mr. martin finally said he would. so we played a game, and i let him beat me very easy. he laughed lit to kill himself when i drew the peg, and said it was the best game he ever played. "is there any game you play any better than this, sonny?" said he, in his most irragravating style. "let's have another game," said i. "only you must promise to draw the peg fair, if i beat you." "all right," said he. "i'll draw the peg if you beat me, bub." o, he felt so sure he was a first-class player. i don't like a conceited man, no matter if he is only a boy. you can just imagine how quick i beat him. why, i went right through to "both ears" without stopping, and the first time i threw the knife over my head it stuck in the ground. i cut a beautiful peg out of hard wood--one of those sharp, slender pegs that will go through anything but a stone. i drove it in clear out of sight, and mr. martin, says he, "why, sonny, nobody couldn't possibly draw that peg." "i've drawn worse pegs than that," said i. "you've got to clear away the earth with your chin and front teeth, and then you can draw it." "that is nonsense," said mr. martin, growing red in the face. "this is a fair and square game," says i, "and you gave your word to draw the peg if i beat you." "i do hope mr. martin will play fair," said sue. "it would be too bad to cheat a little boy." so mr. martin got down and tried it, but he didn't like it one bit. "see here, jimmy," said he, "i'll give you half a dollar, and we'll consider the peg drawn." "that is bribery and corruption," said i. "mr. martin, i can't be bribed, and didn't think you'd try to hire me to let you break your promise." when he saw i wouldn't let up on him, he got down again and went to work. it was the best fun i ever knew. i just rolled on the ground and laughed till i cried. sue and mr. travers didn't roll, but they laughed till sue got up and ran into the house, where i could hear her screaming on the front-parlor sofa, and mother crying out, "my darling child where does it hurt you won't you have the doctor jane do bring the camphor." mr. martin gnawed away at the earth, and used swear-words to himself, and was perfectly raging. after a while he got the peg, and then he got up with his face about the color of a flower-pot, and put on his hat and went out of the front gate rubbing his face with his handkerchief, and never so much as saying good-night. he didn't come near the house again for two weeks. mr. travers gave me a half-dollar to go to the post-office to make up for the one i had refused, and told me that i had displayed roaming virtue, though i don't know exactly what he meant. he looked over this story, and corrected the spelling for me, only it is to be a secret that he helped me. i'd do almost anything for him, and i'm going to ask sue to marry him just to please me. mr. martin's scalp. after that game of mumble-te-peg that me and mr. martin played, he did not come to our house for two weeks. mr. travers said perhaps the earth he had to gnaw while he was drawing the peg had struck to his insides and made him sick, but i knew it couldn't be that. i've drawn pegs that were drove into every kind of earth, and it never hurt me. earth is healthy, unless it is lime; and don't you ever let anybody drive a peg into lime. if you were to swallow the least bit of lime, and then drink some water, it would burn a hole through you just as quick as anything. there was once a boy who found some lime in the closet, and thought it was sugar, and of course he didn't like the taste of it. so he drank some water to take the taste out of his mouth, and pretty soon his mother said, "i smell something burning goodness gracious the house is on fire." but the boy he gave a dreadful scream, and said, "ma, it's me!" and the smoke curled up out of his pockets and around his neck, and he burned up and died. i know this is true, because tom mcginnis went to school with him, and told me about it. mr. martin came to see susan last night for the first time since we had our game; and i wish he had never come back, for he got me into an awful scrape. this was the way it happened. i was playing indian in the yard. i had a wooden tomahawk and a wooden scalping-knife and a bownarrow. i was dressed up in father's old coat turned inside out, and had six chicken feathers in my hair. i was playing i was green thunder, the delaware chief, and was hunting for pale-faces in the yard. it was just after supper, and i was having a real nice time, when mr. travers came, and he said, "jimmy, what are you up to now?" so i told him i was green thunder, and was on the war-path. said he, "jimmy, i think i saw mr. martin on his way here. do you think you would mind scalping him?" i said i wouldn't scalp him for nothing, for that would be cruelty; but if mr. travers was sure that mr. martin was the enemy of the red man, then green thunder's heart would ache for revenge, and i would scalp him with pleasure. mr. travers said that mr. martin was a notorious enemy and oppressor of the indians, and he gave me ten cents, and said that as soon as mr. martin should come and be sitting comfortably on the piazza, i was to give the warwhoop and scalp him. well, in a few minutes mr. martin came, and he and mr. travers and susan sat on the piazza, and talked as if they were all so pleased to see each other, which was the highest-pocracy in the world. after a while mr. martin saw me, and said, "how silly boys are! that boy makes believe he's an indian, and he knows he's only a little nuisance." now this made me mad, and i thought i would give him a good scare, just to teach him not to call names if a fellow does beat him in a fair game. so i began to steal softly up the piazza steps, and to get around behind him. when i had got about six feet from him i gave a warwhoop, and jumped at him. i caught hold of his scalp-lock with one hand, and drew my wooden scalping-knife around his head with the other. i never got such a fright in my whole life. the knife was that dull that it wouldn't have cut butter; but, true as i sit here, mr. martin's whole scalp came right off in my hand. i thought i had killed him, and i dropped his scalp, and said, "for mercy's sake! i didn't go to do it, and i'm awfully sorry." but he just caught up his scalp, stuffed it in his pocket, and jammed his hat on his head, and walked off, saying to susan, "i didn't come here to be insulted by a little wretch that deserves the gallows." mr. travers and susan never said a word until he had gone, and then they laughed until the noise brought father out to ask what was the matter. when he heard what had happened, instead of laughing, he looked very angry, said that "mr. martin was a worthy man. my son, you may come up-stairs with me." if you've ever been a boy, you know what happened up-stairs, and i needn't say any more on a very painful subject. i didn't mind it so much, for i thought mr. martin would die, and then i would be hung, and put in jail; but before she went to bed susan came and whispered through the door that it was all right; that mr. martin was made that way, so he could be taken apart easy, and that i hadn't hurt him. i shall have to stay in my room all day to-day, and eat bread and water; and what i say is that if men are made with scalps that may come off any minute if a boy just touches them, it isn't fair to blame the boy. a private circus. there's going to be a circus here, and i'm going to it; that is, if father will let me. some people think it's wrong to go to a circus, but i don't. mr. travers says that the mind of man and boy requires circuses in moderation, and that the wicked boys in sunday-school books who steal their employers' money to buy circus tickets wouldn't steal it if their employers, or their fathers or uncles, would give them circus tickets once in a while. i'm sure i wouldn't want to go to a circus every night in the week. all i should want would be to go two or three evenings, and wednesday and saturday afternoons. there was once a boy who was awfully fond of going to the circus, and his employer, who was a very good man, said he'd cure him. so he said to the boy, "thomas, my son, i'm going to hire you to go to the circus every night. i'll pay you three dollars a week, and give you your board and lodging, if you'll go every night except sunday; but if you don't go, then you won't get any board and lodging or any money." and the boy said, "oh, you can just bet i'll go!" and he thought everything was lovely; but after two weeks he got so sick of the circus that he would have given anything to be let to stay away. finally he got so wretched that he deceived his good employer, and stole money from him to buy school-books with, and ran away and went to school. the older he grew the more he looked back with horror upon that awful period when he went to the circus every night. mr. travers says it finally had such an effect upon him that he worked hard all day and read books all night just to keep it out of his mind. the result was that before he knew it he became a very learned and a very rich man. of course it was very wrong for the boy to steal money to stay away from the circus with, but the story teaches us that if we go to the circus too much, we shall get tired of it, which is a very solemn thing. we had a private circus at our house last night--at least that's what father called it, and he seemed to enjoy it. it happened in this way. i went into the back parlor one evening, because i wanted to see mr. travers. he and sue always sit there. it was growing quite dark when i went in, and going towards the sofa, i happened to walk against a rocking-chair that was rocking all by itself, which, come to think of it, was an awfully curious thing, and i'm going to ask somebody about it. i didn't mind walking into the chair, for it didn't hurt me much, only i knocked it over, and it hit sue, and she said, "oh my get me something quick!" and then fainted away. mr. travers was dreadfully frightened, and said, "run, jimmy, and get the cologne, or the bay-rum, or something." so i ran up to sue's room, and felt round in the dark for her bottle of cologne that she always keeps on her bureau. i found a bottle after a minute or two, and ran down and gave it to mr. travers, and he bathed sue's face as well as he could in the dark, and she came to and said, "goodness gracious do you want to put my eyes out?" [illustration: "oh, my!"] just then the front-door bell rang, and mr. bradford (our new minister) and his wife and three daughters and his son came in. sue jumped up and ran into the front parlor to light the gas, and mr. travers came to help her. they just got it lit when the visitors came in, and father and mother came down-stairs to meet them. mr. bradford looked as if he had seen a ghost, and his wife and daughters said, "oh my!" and father said, "what on earth!" and mother just burst out laughing, and said, "susan, you and mr. travers seem to have had an accident with the ink-stand." you never saw such a sight as those poor young people were. i had made a mistake, and brought down a bottle of liquid blacking. mr. travers had put it all over sue's face, so that she was jet black, all but a little of one cheek and the end of her nose; and then he had rubbed his hands on his own face until he was like an ethiopian leopard, only he could change his spots if he used soap enough. you couldn't have any idea how angry sue was with me--just as if it was my fault, when all i did was to go up-stairs for her, and get a bottle to bring her to with; and it would have been all right if she hadn't left the blacking-bottle on her bureau; and i don't call that tidy, if she is a girl. mr. travers wasn't a bit angry; but he came up to my room and washed his face, and laughed all the time. and sue got awfully angry with him, and said she would never speak to him again after disgracing her in that heartless way. so he went home, and i could hear him laughing all the way down the street, and mr. bradford and his folks thought that he and sue had been having a minstrel show, and mother thinks they'll never come to the house again. as for father, he was almost as much amused as mr. travers, and he said it served sue right, and he wasn't going to punish the boy to please her. i'm going to try to have another circus some day, though this one was all an accident, and of course i was dreadfully sorry about it. burglars. some people are afraid of burglars. girls are awfully afraid of them. when they think there's a burglar in the house, they pull the clothes over their heads and scream "murder father jimmy there's a man in the house call the police fire!" just as if that would do any good. what you ought to do if there is a burglar is to get up and shoot him with a double-barrelled gun and then tie him and send the servant out to tell the police that if they will call after breakfast you will have something ready for them that will please them. i shouldn't be a bit frightened if i woke up and found a strange man in my room. i should just pretend that i was asleep and keep watching him and when he went to climb out of the window and got half way out i'd jump up and shut the window down on him and tie his legs. but you can't expect girls to have any courage, or to know what to do when anything happens. we had been talking about burglars one day last week just before i went to bed, and i thought i would put my bownarrow where it would be handy if a robber did come. it is a nice strong bow, and i had about thirty arrows with sharp points in the end about half an inch long, that i made out of some big black pins that susan had in her pin-cushion. my room is in the third story, just over sue's room, and the window comes right down on the floor, so that you can lie on the floor and put your head out. i couldn't go to sleep that night very well, though i ate about a quart of chestnuts after i went to bed and i've heard mother say that if you eat a little something delicate late at night it will make you go to sleep. a long while after everybody had gone to bed i heard two men talking in a low tone under the window, and i jumped up to see what was the matter. two dreadful ruffians were standing under sue's window, and talking so low that it was a wonder i could hear anything. one of them had something that looked like a tremendous big squash, with a long neck, and the other had something that looked like a short crowbar. it didn't take me long to understand what they were going to do. the man with the crowbar was intending to dig a hole in the foundation of the house and then the other man would put the big squash which was full of dynamighty in the hole and light a slow-match and run away and blow the house to pieces. so i thought the best thing would be to shoot them before they could do their dreadful work. i got my bownarrow and laid down on the floor and took a good aim at one of the burglars. i hit him in the leg, and he said, "ow! ow! i've run a thorn mornamile into my leg." then i gave the other fellow an arrow, and he said, "my goodness this place is full of thorns, there's one in my leg too." then they moved back a little and i began to shoot as fast as ever i could. i hit them every time, and they were frightened to death. the fellow with the thing like a squash dropped it on the ground and the other fellow jumped on it just as i hit him in the cheek and smashed it all to pieces. you can just believe that they did not stay in our yard very long. they started for the front gate on a run, yelling "ow! ow!" and i am sorry to say using the worst kind of swear-words. the noise woke up father and he lit the gas and i saw the two wretches in the street picking the arrows out of each other but they ran off as soon as they saw the light. father says that they were not burglars at all, but were only two idiots that had come to serenade sue; but when i asked him what serenading was he said it was far worse than burglary, so i know the men were the worst kind of robbers. i found a broken guitar in the yard the next morning, and there wasn't anything in it that would explode, but it would have been very easy for the robbers to have filled it with something that would have blown the house to atoms. i suppose they preferred to put it in a guitar so that if they met anybody nobody would suspect anything. neither mother nor sue showed any gratitude to me for saving their lives, though father did say that for once that boy had showed a little sense. when mr. travers came that evening and i told him about it he said, "jimmy! there's such a thing as being just a little too smart." i don't know what he meant, but i suppose he was a little cross, for he had hurt himself some way--he wouldn't tell me how--and had court-plaster on his cheek and on his hands and walked as if his legs were stiff. still, if a man doesn't feel well he needn't be rude. mr. martin's eye. i've made up my mind to one thing, and that is, i'll never have anything to do with mr. martin again. he ought to be ashamed of himself, going around and getting boys into scrapes, just because he's put together so miserably. sue says she believes it's mucilage, and i think she's right. if he couldn't afford to get himself made like other people, why don't he stay at home? his father and mother must have been awfully ashamed of him. why, he's liable to fall apart at any time, mr. travers says, and some of these days he'll have to be swept up off the floor and carried home in three or four baskets. there was a ghost one time who used to go around, up-stairs and down-stairs, in an old castle, carrying his head in his hand, and stopping in front of everybody he met, but never saying a word. this frightened all the people dreadfully, and they couldn't get a servant to stay in the house unless she had the policeman to sit up in the kitchen with her all night. one day a young doctor came to stay at the castle, and said he didn't believe in ghosts, and that nobody ever saw a ghost, unless they had been making beasts of themselves with mince-pie and wedding-cake. so the old lord of the castle he smiled very savage, and said, "you'll believe in ghosts before you've been in this castle twenty-four hours, and don't you forget it." well, that very night the ghost came into the young doctor's room and woke him up. the doctor looked at him, and said, "ah, i perceive: painful case of imputation of the neck. want it cured, old boy?" the ghost nodded; though how he could nod when his head was off i don't know. then the doctor got up and got a thread and needle, and sewed the ghost's head on, and pushed him gently out of the door, and told him never to show himself again. nobody ever saw that ghost again, for the doctor had sewed his head on wrong side first, and he couldn't walk without running into the furniture, and of course he felt too much ashamed to show himself. this doctor was mr. travers's own grandfather, and mr. travers knows the story is true. but i meant to tell you about the last time mr. martin came to our house. it was a week after i had scalped him; but i don't believe he would ever have come if father hadn't gone to see him, and urged him to overlook the rudeness of that unfortunate and thoughtless boy. when he did come, he was as smiling as anything; and he shook hands with me, and said, "never mind, bub, only don't do it again." by-and-by, when mr. martin and sue and mr. travers were sitting on the piazza, and i was playing with my new base-ball in the yard, mr. martin called out, "pitch it over here; give us a catch." so i tossed it over gently, and he pitched it back again, and said why didn't i throw it like a man, and not toss it like a girl. so i just sent him a swift ball--a regular daisy-cutter. i knew he couldn't catch it, but i expected he would dodge. he did try to dodge, but it hit him along-side of one eye, and knocked it out. you may think i am exaggelying, but i'm not. i saw that eye fly up against the side of the house, and then roll down the front steps to the front walk, where it stopped, and winked at me. i turned, and ran out of the gate and down the street as hard as ever i could. i made up my mind that mr. martin was spoiled forever, and that the only thing for me to do was to make straight for the spanish main and be a pirate. i had often thought i would be a pirate, but now there was no help for it; for a boy that had knocked out a gentleman's eye could never be let to live in a christian country. after a while i stopped to rest, and then i remembered that i wanted to take some provisions in a bundle, and a big knife to kill wolves. so i went back as soon as it was dark, and stole round to the back of the house, so i could get in the window and find the carving-knife and some cake. i was just getting in the window, when somebody put their arms around me, and said, "dear little soul! was he almost frightened to death?" it was sue, and i told her that i was going to be a pirate and wanted the carving-knife and some cake and she mustn't tell father and was mr. martin dead yet? so she told me that mr. martin's eye wasn't injured at all, and that he had put it in again, and gone home; and nobody would hurt me, and i needn't be a pirate if i didn't want to be. it's perfectly dreadful for a man to be made like mr. martin, and i'll never come near him again. sue says that he won't come back to the house, and if he does she'll send him away with something--i forget what it was--in his ear. father hasn't heard about the eye yet, but if he does hear about it, there will be a dreadful scene, for he bought a new rattan cane yesterday. there ought to be a law to punish men that sell rattan canes to fathers, unless they haven't any children. playing circus. the circus came through our town three weeks ago, and me and tom mcginnis went to it. we didn't go together, for i went with father, and tom helped the circus men water their horses, and they let him in for nothing. father said that circuses were dreadfully demoralizing, unless they were mixed with wild animals, and that the reason why he took me to this particular circus was that there were elephants in it, and the elephant is a scripture animal, jimmy, and it cannot help but improve your mind to see him. i agreed with father. if my mind had to be improved, i thought going to the circus would be a good way to do it. we had just an elegant time. i rode on the elephant, but it wasn't much fun for they wouldn't let me drive him. the trapeze was better than anything else, though the central african chariot races and the queen of the arena, who rode on one foot, were gorgeous. the trapeze performances were done by the patagonian brothers, and you'd think every minute they were going to break their necks. father said it was a most revolting sight and do sit down and keep still jimmy or i can't see what's going on. i think father had a pretty good time, and improved his mind a good deal, for he was just as nice as he could be, and gave me a whole pint of pea-nuts. mr. travers says that the patagonian brothers live on their trapezes, and never come down to the ground except when a performance is going to begin. they hook their legs around it at night, and sleep hanging with their heads down, just like the bats, and they take their meals and study their lessons sitting on the bar, without anything to lean against. i don't believe it; for how could they get their food brought up to them? and it's ridiculous to suppose that they have to study lessons. it grieves me very much to say so, but i am beginning to think that mr. travers doesn't always tell the truth. what did he mean by telling sue the other night that he loved cats, and that her cat was perfectly beautiful, and then when she went into the other room he slung the cat out of the window, clear over into the asparagus bed, and said get out you brute? we cannot be too careful about always telling the truth, and never doing anything wrong. tom and i talked about the circus all the next day, and we agreed we'd have a circus of our own, and travel all over the country, and make heaps of money. we said we wouldn't let any of the other boys belong to it, but we would do everything ourselves, except the elephants. so we began to practise in mr. mcginnis's barn every afternoon after school. i was the queen of the arena, and dressed up in one of sue's skirts, and won't she be mad when she finds that i cut the bottom off of it!--only i certainly meant to get her a new one with the very first money i made. i wore an old umbrella under the skirt, which made it stick out beautifully, and i know i should have looked splendid standing on mr. mcginnis's old horse, only he was so slippery that i couldn't stand on him without falling off and sticking all the umbrella ribs into me. tom and i were the madagascar brothers, and we were going to do everything that the patagonian brothers did. we practised standing on each other's head hours at a time, and i did it pretty well, only tom he slipped once when he was standing on my head, and sat down on it so hard that i don't much believe that my hair will ever grow any more. the barn floor was most too hard to practise on, so last saturday tom said we'd go into the parlor, where there was a soft carpet, and we'd put some pillows on the floor besides. all tom's folks had gone out, and there wasn't anybody in the house except the girl in the kitchen. so we went into the parlor, and put about a dozen pillows and a feather-bed on the floor. it was elegant fun turning somersaults backward from the top of the table; but i say it ought to be spelled summersets, though sue says the other way is right. we tried balancing things on our feet while we laid on our backs on the floor. tom balanced the musical box for ever so long before it fell; but i don't think it was hurt much, for nothing except two or three little wheels were smashed. and i balanced the water-pitcher, and i shouldn't have broken it if tom hadn't spoken to me at the wrong minute. [illustration: the trapeze performance.] we were getting tired, when i thought how nice it would be to do the trapeze performance on the chandeliers. there was one in the front parlor and one in the back parlor, and i meant to swing on one of them, and let go and catch the other. i swung beautifully on the front parlor chandelier, when, just as i was going to let go of it, down it came with an awful crash, and that parlor was just filled with broken glass, and the gas began to smell dreadfully. as it was about supper-time, and tom's folks were expected home, i thought i would say good-bye to tom, and not practise any more that day. so we shut the parlor doors, and i went home, wondering what would become of tom, and whether i had done altogether right in practising with him in his parlor. there was an awful smell of gas in the house that night, and when mr. mcginnis opened the parlor door he found what was the matter. he found the cat too. she was lying on the floor, just as dead as she could be. i'm going to see mr. mcginnis to-day and tell him i broke the chandelier. i suppose he will tell father, and then i shall wish that everybody had never been born; but i did break that chandelier, though i didn't mean to, and i've got to tell about it. mr. martin's leg. i had a dreadful time after that accident with mr. martin's eye. he wrote a letter to father and said that "the conduct of that atrocious young ruffian was such," and that he hoped he would never have a son like me. as soon as father said, "my son i want to see you up-stairs bring me my new rattan cane," i knew what was going to happen. i will draw some veils over the terrible scene, and will only say that for the next week i did not feel able to hold a pen unless i stood up all the time. last week i got a beautiful dog. father had gone away for a few days and i heard mother say that she wished she had a nice little dog to stay in the house and drive robbers away. the very next day a lovely dog that didn't belong to anybody came into our yard and i made a dog-house for him out of a barrel, and got some beefsteak out of the closet for him, and got a cat for him to chase, and made him comfortable. he is part bull-dog, and his ears and tail are gone and he hasn't but one eye and he's lame in one of his hind-legs and the hair has been scalded off part of him, and he's just lovely. if you saw him after a cat you'd say he was a perfect beauty. mother won't let me bring him into the house, and says she never saw such a horrid brute, but women haven't any taste about dogs anyway. his name is sitting bull, though most of the time when he isn't chasing cats he's lying down. he knows pretty near everything. some dogs know more than folks. mr. travers had a dog once that knew chinese. every time that dog heard a man speak chinese he would lie down and howl and then he would get up and bite the man. you might talk english or french or latin or german to him and he wouldn't pay any attention to it, but just say three words in chinese and he'd take a piece out of you. mr. travers says that once when he was a puppy a chinaman tried to catch him for a stew; so whenever he heard anybody speak chinese he remembered that time and went and bit the man to let him know that he didn't approve of the way chinamen treated puppies. the dog never made a mistake but once. a man came to the house who had lost his pilate and couldn't speak plain, and the dog thought he was speaking chinese and so he had his regular fit and bit the man worse than he had ever bit anybody before. sitting bull don't know chinese, but mr. travers says he's a "specialist in cats," which means that he knows the whole science of cats. the very first night i let him loose he chased a cat up the pear-tree and he sat under that tree and danced around it and howled all night. the neighbors next door threw most all their things at him but they couldn't discourage him. i had to tie him up after breakfast and let the cat get down and run away before i let him loose again, or he'd have barked all summer. the only trouble with him is that he can't see very well and keeps running against things. if he starts to run out of the gate he is just as likely to run head first into the fence, and when he chases a cat round a corner he will sometimes mistake a stick of wood, or the lawn-mower for the cat and try to shake it to death. this was the way he came to get me into trouble with mr. martin. he hadn't been at our house for so long (mr. martin i mean) that we all thought he never would come again. father sometimes said that his friend martin had been driven out of the house because my conduct was such and he expected i would separate him from all his friends. of course i was sorry that father felt bad about it, but if i was his age i would have friends that were made more substantial than mr. martin is. night before last i was out in the back yard with sitting bull looking for a stray cat that sometimes comes around the house after dark and steals the strawberries and takes the apples out of the cellar. at least i suppose it is this particular cat that steals the apples, for the cook says a cat does it and we haven't any private cat of our own. after a while i saw the cat coming along by the side of the fence, looking wicked enough to steal anything and to tell stories about it afterwards. i was sitting on the ground holding sitting bull's head in my lap and telling him that i did wish he'd take to rat-hunting like tom mcginnis's terrier, but no sooner had i seen the cat and whispered to sitting bull that she was in sight than he jumped up and went for her. he chased her along the fence into the front yard where she made a dive under the front piazza. sitting bull came round the corner of the house just flying, and i close after him. it happened that mr. martin was at that identicular moment going up the steps of the piazza, and sitting bull mistaking one of his legs for the cat jumped for it and had it in his teeth before i could say a word. when that dog once gets hold of a thing there is no use in reasoning with him, for he won't listen to anything. mr. martin howled and said, "take him off my gracious the dog's mad" and i said, "come here sir. good dog. leave him alone" but sitting bull hung on to the leg as if he was deaf and mr. martin hung on to the railing of the piazza and made twice as much noise as the dog. i didn't know whether i'd better run for the doctor or the police, but after shaking the leg for about a minute sitting bull gave it an awful pull and pulled it off just at the knee joint. when i saw the dog rushing round the yard with the leg in his mouth i ran into the house and told sue and begged her to cut a hole in the wall and hide me behind the plastering where the police couldn't find me. when she went down to help mr. martin she saw him just going out of the yard on a wheelbarrow with a man wheeling him on a broad grin. if he ever comes to this house again i'm going to run away. it turns out that his leg was made of cork and i suppose the rest of him is either cork or glass. some day he'll drop apart on our piazza then the whole blame will be put on me. our concert. there is one good thing about sue, if she is a girl: she is real charitable, and is all the time getting people to give money to missionaries and things. she collected mornahundred dollars from ever so many people last year, and sent it to a society, and her name was in all the papers as "miss susan brown," the young lady that gave a hundred dollars to a noble cause and may others go and do likewise. about a month ago she began to get up a concert for a noble object. i forget what the object was, for sue didn't make up her mind about it until a day or two before the concert; but whatever it was, it didn't get much money. sue was to sing in the concert, and mr. travers was to sing, and father was to read something, and the sunday-school was to sing, and the brass band was to play lots of things. mr. travers was real good about it, and attended to engaging the brass band, and getting the tickets printed. we've got a first-rate band. you just ought to hear it once. i'm going to join it some day, and play on the drum; that is, if they don't find out about the mistake i made with the music. when mr. travers went to see the leader of the band to settle what music was to be played at the concert he let me go with him. the man was awfully polite, and he showed mr. travers great stacks of music for him to select from. after a while he proposed to go and see a man somewheres who played in the band, and they left me to wait until they came back. i had nothing to do, so i looked at the music. the notes were all made with a pen and ink, and pretty bad they were. i should have been ashamed if i had made them. just to prove that i could have done it better than the man who did do it, i took a pen and ink and tried it. i made beautiful notes, and as a great many of the pieces of music weren't half full of notes, i just filled in the places where there weren't any notes. i don't know how long mr. travers and the leader of the band were gone, but i was so busy that i did not miss them, and when i heard them coming i sat up as quiet as possible, and never said anything about what i had done, because we never should praise ourselves or seem to be proud of our own work. now i solemnly say that i never meant to do any harm. all i meant to do was to improve the music that the man who wrote it had been too lazy to finish. why, in some of those pieces of music there were places three or four inches long without a single note, and you can't tell me that was right. but i sometimes think there is no use in trying to help people as i tried to help our brass band. people are never grateful, and they always manage to blame a boy, no matter how good he is. i shall try, however, not to give way to these feelings, but to keep on doing right no matter what happens. the next night we had the concert, or at any rate we tried to have it. the town-hall was full of people, and sue said it did seem hard that so much money as the people had paid to come to the concert should all have to go to charity when she really needed a new seal-skin coat. the performance was to begin with a song by sue, and the band was to play just like a piano while she was singing. the song was all about being so weary and longing so hard to die, and sue was singing it like anything, when all of a sudden the man with the big drum hit it a most awful bang, and nearly frightened everybody to death. people laughed out loud, and sue could hardly go on with her song. but she took a fresh start, and got along pretty well till the big drum broke out again, and the man hammered away at it till the leader went and took his drum-stick away from him. the people just howled and yelled, and sue burst out crying and went right off the stage and longed to die in real earnest. [illustration: there was the awfullest fight you ever saw.] when things got a little bit quiet, and the man who played the drum had made it up with the leader, the band began to play something on its own account. it began all right, but it didn't finish the way it was meant to finish. first one player and then another would blow a loud note in the wrong place, and the leader would hammer on his music-stand, and the people would laugh themselves 'most sick. after a while the band came to a place where the trombones seemed to get crazy, and the leader just jumped up and knocked the trombone-player down with a big horn that he snatched from another man. then somebody hit the leader with a cornet and knocked him into the big drum, and there was the awfullest fight you ever saw till somebody turned out the gas. there wasn't any more concert that night, and the people all got their money back, and now mr. travers and the leader of the band have offered a reward for "the person who maliciously altered the music"--that's what the notice says. but i wasn't malicious, and i do hope nobody will find out i did it, though i mean to tell father about it as soon as he gets over having his nose pretty near broke by trying to interfere between the trombone-player and the man with the french horn. our baby. mr. martin has gone away. he's gone to europe or hartford or some such place. anyway i hope we'll never see him again. the expressman says that part of him went in the stage and part of him was sent in a box by express, but i don't know whether it is true or not. i never could see the use of babies. we have one at our house that belongs to mother and she thinks everything of it. i can't see anything wonderful about it. all it can do is to cry and pull hair and kick. it hasn't half the sense of my dog, and it can't even chase a cat. mother and sue wouldn't have a dog in the house, but they are always going on about the baby and saying "ain't it perfectly sweet!" why, i wouldn't change sitting bull for a dozen babies, or at least i wouldn't change him if i had him. after the time he bit mr. martin's leg father said "that brute sha'n't stay here another day." i don't know what became of him, but the next morning he was gone and i have never seen him since. i have had great sorrows though people think i'm only a boy. the worst thing about a baby is that you're expected to take care of him and then you get scolded afterwards. folks say, "here, jimmy! just hold the baby a minute, that's a good boy," and then as soon as you have got it they say, "don't do that my goodness gracious the boy will kill the child hold it up straight you good-for-nothing little wretch." it is pretty hard to do your best and then be scolded for it, but that's the way boys are treated. perhaps after i'm dead folks will wish they had done differently. last saturday mother and sue went out to make calls and told me to stay home and take care of the baby. there was a base-ball match but what did they care? they didn't want to go to it and so it made no difference whether i went to it or not. they said they would be gone only a little while, and that if the baby waked up i was to play with it and keep it from crying and be sure you don't let it swallow any pins. of course i had to do it. the baby was sound asleep when they went out, so i left it just for a few minutes while i went to see if there was any pie in the pantry. if i was a woman i wouldn't be so dreadfully suspicious as to keep everything locked up. when i got back up-stairs again the baby was awake and was howling like he was full of pins; so i gave him the first thing that came handy to keep him quiet. it happened to be a bottle of french polish with a sponge in it on the end of a wire that sue uses to black her shoes, because girls are too lazy to use a regular blacking-brush. the baby stopped crying as soon as i gave him the bottle and i sat down to read. the next time i looked at him he'd got out the sponge and about half his face was jet-black. this was a nice fix, for i knew nothing could get the black off his face, and when mother came home she would say the baby was spoiled and i had done it. now i think an all black baby is ever so much more stylish than an all white baby, and when i saw the baby was part black i made up my mind that if i blacked it all over it would be worth more than it ever had been and perhaps mother would be ever so much pleased. so i hurried up and gave it a good coat of black. you should have seen how that baby shined! the polish dried just as soon as it was put on, and i had just time to get the baby dressed again when mother and sue came in. i wouldn't lower myself to repeat their unkind language. when you've been called a murdering little villain and an unnatural son it will wrinkle in your heart for ages. after what they said to me i didn't even seem to mind about father but went up-stairs with him almost as if i was going to church or something that wouldn't hurt much. the baby is beautiful and shiny, though the doctor says it will wear off in a few years. nobody shows any gratitude for all the trouble i took, and i can tell you it isn't easy to black a baby without getting it into his eyes and hair. i sometimes think that it is hardly worth while to live in this cold and unfeeling world. our snow man. i do love snow. there isn't anything except a bull-terrier that is as beautiful as snow. mr. travers says that seven hundred men once wrote a poem called "beautiful snow," and that even then, though they were all big strong men, they couldn't find words enough to tell how beautiful it was. there are some people who like snow, and some who don't. it's very curious, but that's the way it is about almost everything. there are the eskimos who live up north where there isn't anything but snow, and where there are no schools nor any errands, and they haven't anything to do but to go fishing and skating and hunting, and sliding down hill all day. well, the eskimos don't like it, for people who have been there and seen them say they are dreadfully dissatisfied. a nice set the eskimos must be! i wonder what would satisfy them. i don't suppose it's any use trying to find out, for father says there's no limit to the unreasonableness of some people. we ought always to be satisfied and contented with our condition and the things we have. i'm always contented when i have what i want, though of course nobody can expect a person to be contented when things don't satisfy him. sue is real contented, too, for she's got the greatest amount of new clothes, and she's going to be married very soon. i think it's about time she was, and most everybody else thinks so too, for i've heard them say so; and they've said so more than ever since we made the snow man. [illustration: we built the biggest snow man i ever heard of.] you see, it was the day before christmas, and there had been a beautiful snow-storm. all of us boys were sliding down hill, when somebody said, "let's make a snow man." everybody seemed to think the idea was a good one, and we made up our minds to build the biggest snow man that ever was, just for christmas. the snow was about a foot thick, and just hard enough to cut into slabs; so we got a shovel and went to work. we built the biggest snow man i ever heard of. we made him hollow, and tom mcginnis stood inside of him and helped build while the rest of us worked on the outside. just as fast as we got a slab of snow in the right place we poured water on it so that it would freeze right away. we made the outside of the man about three feet thick, and he was so tall that tom mcginnis had to keep climbing up inside of him to help build. tom came near getting into a dreadful scrape, for we forgot to leave a hole for him to get out of, and when the man was done, and frozen as hard as a rock, tom found that he was shut up as tight as if he was in prison. didn't he howl, though, and beg us to let him out! i told him that he would be very foolish not to stay in the man all night, for he would be as warm as the eskimos are in their snow huts, and there would be such fun when people couldn't find him anywhere. but tom wasn't satisfied; he began to talk some silly nonsense about wanting his supper. the idea of anybody talking about such a little thing as supper when they had such a chance to make a big stir as that. tom always was an obstinate sort of fellow, and he would insist upon coming out, so we got a hatchet and chopped a hole in the back of the man and let him out. the snow man was quite handsome, and we made him have a long beak, like a bird, so that people would be astonished when they saw him. it was that beak that made me think about the egyptian gods that had heads like hawks and other birds and animals, and must have frightened people dreadfully when they suddenly met them near graveyards or in lonesome roads. one of those egyptian gods was made of stone, and was about as high as the top of a house. he was called memnon, and every morning at sunrise he used to sing out with a loud voice, just as the steam-whistle at mr. thompson's mill blows every morning at sunrise to wake people up. the egyptians thought that memnon was something wonderful, but it has been found out, since the egyptians died, that a priest used to hide himself somewhere inside of memnon, and made all the noise. looking at the snow man and thinking about the egyptian gods, i thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to hide inside of him and say things whenever people went by. it would be a new way of celebrating christmas, too. they would be awfully astonished to hear a snow man talk. i might even make him sing a carol, and then he'd be a sort of christian memnon, and nobody would think i had anything to do with it. that evening when the moon got up--it was a beautiful moonlight night--i slipped out quietly and went up to the hill where the snow man was, and hid inside of him. i knew mr. travers and sue were out sleigh-riding, and they hadn't asked me to go, though there was lots of room, and i meant to say something to them when they drove by the snow man that would make sue wish she had been a little more considerate. presently i heard bells and looked out and saw a sleigh coming up the hill. i was sure it was mr. travers and sue; so i made ready for them. the sleigh came up the hill very slow, and when it was nearly opposite to me i said, in a solemn voice, "susan, you ought to have been married long ago." you see, i knew that would please mr. travers; and it was true, too. she gave a shriek, and said, "oh, what's that?" "we'll soon see," said a man's voice that didn't sound a bit like mr. travers's. "there's somebody round here that's spoiling for a thrashing." the man came right up to the snow man, and saw my legs through the hole, and got hold of one of them and began to pull. i didn't know it, but the boys had undermined the snow man on one side, and as soon as the man began to pull, over went the snow man and me right into the sleigh, and the woman screamed again, and the horse ran away and pitched us out, and-- but i don't want to tell the rest of it, only father said that i must be taught not to insult respectable ladies like miss susan white, who is fifty years old, by telling them it is time they were married. art. our town has been very lively this winter. first we had two circuses, and then we had the small-pox, and now we've got a course of lectures. a course of lectures is six men, and you can go to sleep while they're talking, if you want to, and you'd better do it unless they are missionaries with real idols or a magic lantern. i always go to sleep before the lectures are through, but i heard a good deal of one of them that was all about art. art is almost as useful as history or arithmetic, and we ought all to learn it, so that we can make beautiful things and elevate our minds. art is done with mud in the first place. the art man takes a large chunk of mud and squeezes it until it is like a beautiful man or woman, or wild bull, and then he takes a marble gravestone and cuts it with a chisel until it is exactly like the piece of mud. if you want a solid photograph of yourself made out of marble, the art man covers your face with mud, and when it gets hard he takes it off, and the inside of it is just like a mould, so that he can fill it full of melted marble which will be an exact photograph of you as soon as it gets cool. this is what one of the men who belong to the course of lectures told us. he said he would have shown us exactly how to do art, and would have made a beautiful portrait of a friend of his, named vee nuss, right on the stage before our eyes, only he couldn't get the right kind of mud. i believed him then, but i don't believe him now. a man who will contrive to get an innocent boy into a terrible scrape isn't above telling what isn't true. he could have got mud if he'd wanted it, for there was mornamillion tons of it in the street, and it's my belief that he couldn't have made anything beautiful if he'd had mud a foot deep on the stage. as i said, i believed everything the man said, and when the lecture was over, and father said, "i do hope jimmy you've got some benefit from the lecture this time" and sue said, "a great deal of benefit that boy will ever get unless he gets it with a good big switch don't i wish i was his father o! i'd let him know," i made up my mind that i would do some art the very next day, and show people that i could get lots of benefit if i wanted to. i have spoken about our baby a good many times. it's no good to anybody, and i call it a failure. it's a year and three months old now, and it can't talk or walk, and as for reading or writing, you might as well expect it to play base-ball. i always knew how to read and write, and there must be something the matter with this baby, or it would know more. last monday mother and sue went out to make calls, and left me to take care of the baby. they had done that before, and the baby had got me into a scrape, so i didn't want to be exposed to its temptations; but the more i begged them not to leave me, the more they would do it, and mother said, "i know you'll stay and be a good boy while we go and make those horrid calls," and sue said, "i'd better or i'd get what i wouldn't like." after they'd gone i tried to think what i could do to please them, and make everybody around me better and happier. after a while i thought that it would be just the thing to do some art and make a marble photograph of the baby, for that would show everybody that i had got some benefit from the lectures, and the photograph of the baby would delight mother and sue. i took mother's fruit-basket and filled it with mud out of the back yard. it was nice thick mud, and it would stay in any shape that you squeezed it into, so that it was just the thing to do art with. i laid the baby on its back on the bed, and covered its face all over with the mud about two inches thick. a fellow who didn't know anything about art might have killed the baby, for if you cover a baby's mouth and nose with mud it can't breathe, which is very unhealthy, but i left its nose so it could breathe, and intended to put an extra piece of mud over that part of the mould after it was dry. of course the baby howled all it could, and it would have kicked dreadfully, only i fastened its arms and legs with a shawl-strap so that it couldn't do itself any harm. [illustration: the moment they saw the baby they said the most dreadful things.] the mud wasn't half dry when mother and sue and father came in, for he met them at the front gate. they all came up-stairs, and the moment they saw the baby they said the most dreadful things to me without waiting for me to explain. i did manage to explain a little through the closet door while father was looking for his rattan cane, but it didn't do the least good. i don't want to hear any more about art or to see any more lectures. there is nothing so ungrateful as people, and if i did do what wasn't just what people wanted, they might have remembered that i meant well, and only wanted to please them and elevate their minds. an awful scene. i have the same old, old story to tell. my conduct has been such again--at any rate, that's what father says; and i've had to go up-stairs with him, and i needn't explain what that means. it seems very hard, for i'd tried to do my very best, and i'd heard sue say, "that boy hasn't misbehaved for two days good gracious i wonder what can be the matter with him." there's a fatal litty about it, i'm sure. poor father! i must give him an awful lot of trouble, and i know he's had to get two new bamboo canes this winter just because i've done so wrong, though i never meant to do it. it happened on account of coasting. we've got a magnificent hill. the road runs straight down the middle of it, and all you have to do is to keep on the road. there's a fence on one side, and if you run into it something has got to break. john kruger, who is a stupid sort of a fellow, ran into it last week head-first, and smashed three pickets, and everybody said it was a mercy he hit it with his head, or he might have broken some of his bones and hurt himself. there isn't any fence on the other side, but if you run off the road on that side you'll go down the side of a hill that's steeper than the roof of the episcopal church, and about a mile long, with a brook full of stones down at the bottom. the other night mr. travers said-- but i forgot to say that mr. martin is back again, and coming to our house worse than ever. he was there, and mr. travers and sue, all sitting in the parlor, where i was behaving, and trying to make things pleasant, when mr. travers said, "it's a bright moonlight night let's all go out and coast." sue said, "oh that would be lovely jimmy get your sled." i didn't encourage them, and i told father so, but he wouldn't admit that mr. travers or sue or mr. martin or anybody could do anything wrong. what i said was, "i don't want to go coasting. it's cold and i don't feel very well, and i think we ought all to go to bed early so we can wake up real sweet and good-tempered." but sue just said, "don't you preach jimmy if you're lazy just say so and mr. travers will take us out." then mr. martin he must put in and say, "perhaps the boy's afraid don't tease him he ought to be in bed anyhow." now i wasn't going to stand this, so i said, "come on. i wanted to go all the time, but i thought it would be best for old people to stay at home, and that's why i didn't encourage you." so i got out my double-ripper, and we all went out on the hill and started down. i sat in front to steer, and sue sat right behind me, and mr. travers sat behind her to hold her on, and mr. martin sat behind him. we went splendidly, only the dry snow flew so that i couldn't see anything, and that's why we got off the road and on to the side hill before i knew it. the hill was just one glare of ice, and the minute we struck the ice the sled started away like a hurricane. i had just time to hear mr. martin say, "boy mind what you're about or i'll get off," when she struck something--i don't know what--and everybody was pitched into the air, and began sliding on the ice without anything to help them, except me. i caught on a bare piece of rock, and stopped myself. i could see sue sitting up straight, and sliding like a streak of lightning, and crying, "jimmy father charles mr. martin o my help me." mr. travers was on his stomach, about a rod behind her, and gaining a little on her, and mr. martin was on his back, coming down head-first, and beating them both. all of a sudden he began to go to pieces. part of him would slide off one way, and then another part would try its luck by itself. i can tell you it was an awful and surreptitious sight. they all reached the bottom after a while, and when i saw they were not killed, i tried it myself, and landed all right. sue was sitting still, and mourning, and saying, "my goodness gracious i shall never be able to walk again my comb is broken and that boy isn't fit to live." mr. travers wasn't hurt very much, and he fixed himself all right with some pins i gave him, and his handkerchief; but his overcoat looked as if he'd stolen it from a scarecrow. when he had comforted sue a little (and i must say some people are perfectly sickening the way they go on), he and i collected mr. martin--all except his teeth--and helped put him together, only i got his leg on wrong side first, and then we helped him home. this was why father said that my conduct was such, and that his friend martin didn't seem to be able to come into his house without being insulted and injured by me. i never insulted him. it isn't my fault if he can't slide down a hill without coming apart. however, i've had my last suffering on account of him. the next time he comes apart where i am i shall not wait to be punished for it, but shall start straight for the north-pole, and if i discover it the british government will pay me mornamillion dollars. i'm able to sit down this morning, but my spirits are crushed, and i shall never enjoy life any more. screw-heads. i'm in an awful situation that a boy by the name of bellew got me into. he is one of the boys that writes stories and makes pictures for harper's young people, and i think people ought to know what kind of a boy he is. a little while ago he had a story in the young people about imitation screw-heads, and how he used to make them, and what fun he had pasting them on his aunt's bureau. i thought it was a very nice story, and i got some tin-foil and made a whole lot of screw-heads, and last saturday i thought i'd have some fun with them. father has a dreadfully ugly old chair in his study, that general washington brought over with him in the _mayflower_, and mr. travers says it is stiffer and uglier than any of the pilgrim fathers. but father thinks everything of that chair, and never lets anybody sit in it except the minister. i took a piece of soap, just as that bellew used to, and if his name is billy why don't he learn how to spell it that's what i'd like to know, and made what looked like a tremendous crack in the chair. then i pasted the screw-heads on the chair, and it looked exactly as if somebody had broken it and tried to mend it. [illustration] i couldn't help laughing all day when i thought how astonished father would be when he saw his chair all full of screws, and how he would laugh when he found out it was all a joke. as soon as he came home i asked him to please come into the study, and showed him the chair and said "father i cannot tell a lie i did it but i won't do it any more." [illustration] father looked as if he had seen some disgusting ghosts, and i was really frightened, so i hurried up and said, "it's all right father, it's only a joke look here they all come off," and rubbed off the screw-heads and the soap with my handkerchief, and expected to see him burst out laughing, just as bellew's aunt used to burst, but instead of laughing he said, "my son this trifling with sacred things must be stopped," with which remark he took off his slipper, and then-- but i haven't the heart to say what he did. mr. travers has made some pictures about it, and perhaps people will understand what i have suffered. i think that boy bellew ought to be punished for getting people into scrapes. i'd just like to have him come out behind our barn with me for a few minutes. that is, i would, only i never expect to take any interest in anything any more. my heart is broken and a new chocolate cigar that was in my pocket during the awful scene. i've got an elegant wasps' nest with young wasps in it that will hatch out in the spring, and i'll change it for a bull-terrier or a shot-gun or a rattlesnake in a cage that rattles good with any boy that will send me one. my monkey. there never was such luck. i've always thought that i'd rather have a monkey than be a million heir. there is nothing that could be half so splendid as a real live monkey, but of course i knew that i never could have one until i should grow up and go to sea and bring home monkeys and parrots and shawls to mother just as sailors always do. but i've actually got a monkey and if you don't believe it just look at these pictures of him that mr. travers made for me. it was mr. travers that got the monkey for me. one day there came a woman with an organ and a monkey into our yard. she was an italian, but she could speak a sort of english and she said that the "murderin' spalpeen of a monkey was just wearing the life of her out." so says mr. travers "what will you take for him?" and says she "it's five dollars i'd be after selling him for, and may good-luck go wid ye!" [illustration] what did mr. travers do but give her the money and hand the monkey to me, saying, "here, jimmy! take him and be happy." wasn't i just happy though? jocko--that's the monkey's name--is the loveliest monkey that ever lived. i hadn't had him an hour when he got out of my arms and was on the supper-table before i could get him. the table was all set and bridget was just going to ring the bell, but the monkey didn't wait for her. [illustration] to see him eating the chicken salad was just wonderful. he finished the whole dish in about two minutes, and was washing it down with the oil out of the salad-bottle when i caught him. mother was awfully good about it and only said, "poor little beast he must be half starved susan how much he reminds me of your brother." a good mother is as good a thing as a boy deserves, no matter how good he is. [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] the salad someway did not seem to agree with jocko for he was dreadfully sick that night. you should have seen how limp he was, just like a girl that has fainted away and her young man is trying to lift her up. mother doctored him. she gave him castor-oil as if he was her own son, and wrapped him up in a blanket and put a mustard plaster on his stomach and soaked the end of his tail in warm water. he was all right the next day and was real grateful. i know he was grateful because he showed it by trying to do good to others, at any rate to the cat. our cat wouldn't speak to him at first, but he coaxed her with milk, just as he had seen me do and finally caught her. it must have been dreadfully aggravoking to the cat, for instead of letting her have the milk he insisted that she was sick and must have medicine. so he took bridget's bottle of hair-oil and a big spoon and gave the cat such a dose. when i caught him and made him let the cat go there were about six table-spoonfuls of oil missing. mr. travers said it was a good thing for it would improve the cat's voice and make her yowl smoother, and that he had felt for a long time that she needed to be oiled. mother said that the monkey was cruel and it was a shame but i know that he meant to be kind. he knew the oil mother gave him had done him good, and he wanted to do the cat good. i know just how he felt, for i've been blamed many a time for trying to do good, and i can tell you it always hurt my feelings. [illustration] the monkey was in the kitchen while bridget was getting dinner yesterday and he watched her broil the steak as if he was meaning to learn to cook and help her in her work, he's that kind and thoughtful. the cat was out-doors, but two of her kittens were in the kitchen, and they were not old enough to be afraid of the monkey. when dinner was served bridget went up-stairs and by-and-by mother says "what's that dreadful smell sure's you're alive susan the baby has fallen into the fire." everybody jumped up and ran up-stairs, all but me, for i knew jocko was in the kitchen and i was afraid it was he that was burning. when i got into the kitchen there was that lovely monkey broiling one of the kittens on the gridiron just as he had seen bridget broil the steak. the kitten's fur was singeing and she was mewing, and the other kitten was sitting up on the floor licking her chops and enjoying it and jocko was on his hind-legs as solemn and busy as an owl. i snatched the gridiron away from him and took the kitten off before she was burned any except her fur, and when mother and susan came down-stairs they couldn't understand what it was that had been burning. this is all the monkey has done since i got him day before yesterday. father has been away for a week but is coming back in a few days, and won't he be delighted when he finds a monkey in the house? the end of my monkey. i haven't any monkey now, and i don't care what becomes of me. his loss was an awful blow, and i never expect to recover from it. i am a crushed boy, and when the grown folks find what their conduct has done to me, they will wish they had done differently. [illustration] it was on a tuesday that i got the monkey, and by thursday everybody began to treat him coldly. it began with my littlest sister. jocko took her doll away, and climbed up to the top of the door with it, where he sat and pulled it to pieces, and tried its clothes on, only they wouldn't fit him, while sister, who is nothing but a little girl, stood and howled as if she was being killed. this made mother begin to dislike the monkey, and she said that if his conduct was such, he couldn't stay in her house. i call this unkind, for the monkey was invited into the house, and i've been told we must bear with visitors. [illustration] a little while afterwards, while mother was talking to susan on the front piazza, she heard the sewing-machine up-stairs, and said, "well i never that cook has the impudence to be sewing on my machine without ever asking leave." so she ran up-stairs, and found that jocko was working the machine like mad. he'd taken sue's gown and father's black coat and a lot of stockings, and shoved them all under the needle, and was sewing them all together. mother boxed his ears and then she and sue sat down and worked all the morning trying to unsew the things with the scissors. they had to give it up after a while, and the things are sewed together yet, like a man and wife, which no man can put asunder. all this made my mother more cool towards the monkey than ever, and i heard her call him a nasty little beast. [illustration] the next day was sunday, and as sue was sitting in the hall waiting for mother to go to church with her, jocko gets up on her chair, and pulls the feathers out of her bonnet. he thought he was doing right, for he had seen the cook pulling the feathers off of the chickens, but sue called him dreadful names, and either she or that monkey would leave the house. [illustration] [illustration] father came home early monday, and seemed quite pleased with the monkey. he said it was an interesting study, and he told susan that he hoped that she would be contented with fewer beaux, now that there was a monkey constantly in the house. in a little while father caught jocko lathering himself with the mucilage brush, and with a kitchen knife all ready to shave himself. he just laughed at the monkey, and told me to take good care of him, and not let him hurt himself. of course i was dreadfully pleased to find that father liked jocko, and i knew it was because he was a man, and had more sense than girls. but i was only deceiving myself and leaning on a broken weed. that very evening when father went into his study after supper he found jocko on his desk. he had torn all his papers to pieces, except a splendid new map, and that he was covering with ink, and making believe that he was writing a president's message about the panama canal. father was just raging. he took jocko by the scruff of the neck, locked him in the closet, and sent him away by express the next morning to a man in the city, with orders to sell him. the expressman afterwards told mr. travers that the monkey pretty nearly killed everybody on the train, for he got hold of the signal-cord and pulled it, and the engineer thought it was the conductor, and stopped the train, and another train just behind it came within an inch of running into it and smashing it to pieces. jocko did the same thing three times before they found out what was the matter, and tied him up so that he couldn't reach the cord. oh, he was just beautiful! but i shall never see him again, and mr. travers says that it's all right, and that i'm monkey enough for one house. that's because sue has been saying things against the monkey to him; but never mind. first my dog went, and now my monkey has gone. it seems as if everything that is beautiful must disappear. very likely i shall go next, and when i am gone, let them find the dog and the monkey, and bury us together. [illustration] the old, old story. we've had a most awful time in our house. there have been ever so many robberies in town, and everybody has been almost afraid to go to bed. the robbers broke into old dr. smith's house one night. dr. smith is one of those doctors that don't give any medicine except cold water, and he heard the robbers, and came down-stairs in his nigown, with a big umbrella in his hand, and said, "if you don't leave this minute, i'll shoot you." and the robbers they said, "oh no! that umbrella isn't loaded" and they took him and tied his hands and feet, and put a mustard-plaster over his mouth, so that he couldn't yell, and then they filled the wash-tub with water, and made him sit down in it, and told him that now he'd know how it was himself, and went away and left him, and he nearly froze to death before morning. father wasn't a bit afraid of the robbers, but he said he'd fix something so that he would wake up if they got in the house. so he put a coal-scuttle full of coal about half-way up the stairs, and tied a string across the upper hall just at the head of the stairs. he said that if a robber tried to come up-stairs he would upset the coal-scuttle, and make a tremendous noise, and that if he did happen not to upset it, he would certainly fall over the string at the top of the stairs. he told us that if we heard the coal-scuttle go off in the night, sue and mother and i were to open the windows and scream, while he got up and shot the robber. the first night, after father had fixed everything nicely for the robbers, he went to bed, and then mother told him that she had forgotten to lock the back door. so father he said, "why can't women sometimes remember something," and he got up and started to go down-stairs in the dark. he forgot all about the string, and fell over it with an awful crash, and then began to fall down-stairs. when he got half-way down he met the coal-scuttle, and that went down the rest of the way with him, and you never in your life heard anything like the noise the two of them made. we opened our windows, and cried murder and fire and thieves, and some men that were going by rushed in and picked father up, and would have taken him off to jail, he was that dreadfully black, if i hadn't told them who he was. but this was not the awful time that i mentioned when i began to write, and if i don't begin to tell you about it, i sha'n't have any room left on my paper. mother gave a dinner-party last thursday. there were ten ladies and twelve gentlemen, and one of them was that dreadful mr. martin with the cork leg, and other improvements, as mr. travers calls them. mother told me not to let her see me in the dining-room, or she'd let me know; and i meant to mind, only i forgot, and went into the dining-room, just to look at the table, a few minutes before dinner. i was looking at the raw oysters, when jane--that's the girl that waits on the table--said, "run, master jimmy; here's your mother coming." now i hadn't time enough to run, so i just dived under the table, and thought i'd stay there for a minute or two, until mother went out of the room again. it wasn't only mother that came in, but the whole company, and they sat down to dinner without giving me any chance to get out. i tell you, it was a dreadful situation. i had only room enough to sit still, and nearly every time i moved i hit somebody's foot. once i tried to turn around, and while i was doing it i hit my head against the table so hard that i thought i had upset something, and was sure that people would know i was there. but fortunately everybody thought that somebody else had joggled, so i escaped for that time. it was awfully tiresome waiting for those people to get through dinner. it seemed as if they could never eat enough, and when they were not eating, they were all talking at once. it taught me a lesson against gluttony, and nobody will ever find me sitting for hours and hours at the dinner-table. finally i made up my mind that i must have some amusement, and as mr. martin's cork-leg was close by me, i thought i would have some fun with that. there was a big darning-needle in my pocket, that i kept there in case i should want to use it for anything. i happened to think that mr. martin couldn't feel anything that was done to his cork-leg, and that it would be great fun to drive the darning-needle into it, and leave the end sticking out, so that people who didn't know that his leg was cork would see it, and think that he was suffering dreadfully, only he didn't know it. so i got out the needle, and jammed it into his leg with both hands, so that it would go in good and deep. [illustration: wasn't there a circus in that dining-room!] mr. martin gave a yell that made my hair run cold, and sprang up, and nearly upset the table, and fell over his chair backward, and wasn't there a circus in that dining-room! i had made a mistake about the leg, and run the needle into his real one. i was dragged out from under the table, and-- but i needn't say what happened to me after that. it was "the old, old story," as sue says when she sings a foolish song about getting up at five o'clock in the morning--as if she'd ever been awake at that time in her whole life! bee-hunting. the more i see of this world the hollower i find everybody. i don't mean that people haven't got their insides in them, but they are so dreadfully ungrateful. no matter how kind and thoughtful any one may be, they never give him any credit for it. they will pretend to love you and call you "dear jimmy what a fine manly boy come here and kiss me," and then half an hour afterwards they'll say "where's that little wretch let me just get hold of him o! i'll let him know." deceit and ingratitude are the monster vices of the age and they are rolling over our beloved land like the flood. (i got part of that elegant language from the temperance lecturer last week, but i improved it a good deal.) there is aunt eliza. the uncle that belonged to her died two years ago, and she's awfully rich. she comes to see us sometimes with harry--that's her boy, a little fellow six years old--and you ought to see how mother and sue wait on her and how pleasant father is when she's in the room. now she always said that she loved me like her own son. she'd say to father, "how i envy you that noble boy what a comfort he must be to you," and father would say "yes he has some charming qualities" and look as if he hadn't laid onto me with his cane that very morning and told me that my conduct was such. you'll hardly believe that just because i did the very best i could and saved her precious harry from an apple grave, aunt eliza says i'm a young cain and knows i'll come to the gallows. she came to see us last friday, and on saturday i was going bee-hunting. i read all about it in a book. you take an axe and go out-doors and follow a bee, and after a while the bee takes you to a hollow tree full of honey and you cut the tree down and carry the honey home in thirty pails and sell it for ever so much. i and tom mcginnis were going and aunt eliza says "o take harry with you the dear child would enjoy it so much." of course no fellow that's twelve years old wants a little chap like that tagging after him but mother spoke up and said that i'd be delighted to take harry, and so i couldn't help myself. we stopped in the wood-shed and borrowed father's axe and then we found a bee. the bee wouldn't fly on before us in a straight line but kept lighting on everything, and once he lit on tom's hand and stung him good. however we chased the bee lively and by-and-by he started for his tree and we ran after him. we had just got to the old dead apple-tree in the pasture when we lost the bee and we all agreed that his nest must be in the tree. it's an awfully big old tree, and it's all rotted away on one side so that it stands as if it was ready to fall over any minute. nothing would satisfy harry but to climb that tree. we told him he'd better let a bigger fellow do it but he wouldn't listen to reason. so we gave him a boost and he climbed up to where the tree forked and then he stood up and began to say something when he disappeared. we thought he had fallen out of the tree and we ran round to the other side to pick him up but he wasn't there. tom said it was witches but i knew he must be somewhere so i climbed up the tree and looked. he had slipped down into the hollow of the tree and was wedged in tight. i could just reach his hair but it was so short that i couldn't get a good hold so as to pull him out. wasn't he scared though! he howled and said "o take me out i shall die," and tom wanted to run for the doctor. i told harry to be patient and i'd get him out. so i slid down the tree and told tom that the only thing to do was to cut the tree down and then open it and take harry out. it was such a rotten tree i knew it would come down easy. so we took turns chopping, and the fellow who wasn't chopping kept encouraging harry by telling him that the tree was 'most ready to fall. after working an hour the tree began to stagger and presently down she came with an awful crush and burst into a million pieces. tom and i said hurray! and then we poked round in the dust till we found harry. he was all over red dust and was almost choked, but he was awfully mad. just because some of his ribs were broke--so the doctor said--he forget all tom and i had done for him. i shouldn't have minded that much, because you don't expect much from little boys, but i did think his mother would have been grateful when we brought him home and told her what we had done. then i found what all her professions were worth. she called father and told him that i and the other miscurrent had murdered her boy. tom was so frightened at the awful name she called him that he ran home, and father told me i could come right up-stairs with him. they couldn't have treated me worse if i'd let harry stay in the tree and starve to death. i almost wish i had done it. it does seem as if the more good a boy does the more the grown folks pitch into him. the moment sue is married to mr. travers i mean to go and live with him. he never scolds, and always says that susan's brother is as dear to him as his own, though he hasn't got any. prompt obedience. i haven't been able to write anything for some time. i don't mean that there has been anything the matter with my fingers so that i couldn't hold a pen, but i haven't had the heart to write of my troubles. besides, i have been locked up for a whole week in the spare bedroom on bread and water, and just a little hash or something like that, except when sue used to smuggle in cake and pie and such things, and i haven't had any penanink. i was going to write a novel while i was locked up by pricking my finger and writing in blood with a pin on my shirt; but you can't write hardly anything that way, and i don't believe all those stories of conspirators who wrote dreadful promises to do all sorts of things in their blood. before i could write two little words my finger stopped bleeding, and i wasn't going to keep on pricking myself every few minutes; besides, it won't do to use all your blood up that way. there was once a boy who cut himself awful in the leg with a knife, and he bled to death for five or six hours, and when he got through he wasn't any thicker than a newspaper, and rattled when his friends picked him up just like the morning paper does when father turns it inside out. mr. travers told me about him, and said this was a warning against bleeding to death. of course you'll say i must have been doing something dreadfully wrong, but i don't think i have; and even if i had, i'll leave it to anybody if aunt eliza isn't enough to provoke a whole company of saints. the truth is, i got into trouble this time just through obeying promptly as soon as i was spoken to. i'd like to know if that was anything wrong. oh, i'm not a bit sulky, and i am always ready to admit i've done wrong when i really have; but this time i tried to do my very best and obey my dear mother promptly, and the consequence was that i was shut up for a week, besides other things too painful to mention. this world is a fleeting show, as our minister says, and i sometimes feel that it isn't worth the price of admission. aunt eliza is one of those women that always know everything, and know that nobody else knows anything, particularly us men. she was visiting us, and finding fault with everybody, and constantly saying that men were a nuisance in a house and why didn't mother make father mend chairs and whitewash the ceiling and what do you let that great lazy boy waste all his time for? there was a little spot in the roof where it leaked when it rained, and aunt eliza said to father, "why don't you have energy enough to get up on the roof and see where that leak is i would if i was a man thank goodness i ain't." so father said, "you'd better do it yourself, eliza." and she said, "i will this very day." so after breakfast aunt eliza asked me to show her where the scuttle was. we always kept it open for fresh air, except when it rained, and she crawled up through it and got on the roof. just then mother called me, and said it was going to rain, and i must close the scuttle. i began to tell her that aunt eliza was on the roof, but she wouldn't listen, and said, "do as i tell you this instant without any words why can't you obey promptly?" so i obeyed as prompt as i could, and shut the scuttle and fastened it, and then went down-stairs, and looked out to see the shower come up. it was a tremendous shower, and it struck us in about ten minutes; and didn't it pour! the wind blew, and it lightened and thundered every minute, and the street looked just like a river. i got tired of looking at it after a while, and sat down to read, and in about an hour, when it was beginning to rain a little easier, mother came where i was, and said, "i wonder where sister eliza is do you know, jimmy?" and i said i supposed she was on the roof, for i left her there when i fastened the scuttle just before it began to rain. nothing was done to me until after they had got two men to bring aunt eliza down and wring the water out of her, and the doctor had come, and she had been put to bed, and the house was quiet again. by that time father had come home, and when he heard what had happened-- but, there! it is over now, and let us say no more about it. aunt eliza is as well as ever, but nobody has said a word to me about prompt obedience since the thunder-shower. our ice-cream. after that trouble with aunt eliza--the time she stayed up on the roof and was rained on--i had no misfortunes for nearly a week. aunt eliza went home as soon as she was well dried, and father said that he was glad she was gone, for she talked so much all the time that he couldn't hear himself think, though i don't believe he ever did hear himself think. i tried it once. i sat down where it was real still, and thought just as regular and steady as i could; but i couldn't hear the least sound. i suppose our brains are so well oiled that they don't creak at all when we use them. however, mr. travers told me of a boy he knew when he was a boy. his name was ananias g. smith, and he would run round all day without any hat on, and his hair cut very short, and the sun kept beating on his head all day, and gradually his brains dried so that whenever he tried to think, they would rattle and creak like a wheelbarrow-wheel when it hasn't any grease on it. of course his parents felt dreadfully, for he couldn't go to school without disturbing everybody as soon as he began to think about his lessons, and he couldn't stay home and think without keeping the baby awake. as i was saying, there was pretty nearly a whole week that i kept out of trouble; but it didn't last. boys are born to fly upward like the sparks that trouble, and yesterday i was "up to mischief again," as sue said, though i never had the least idea of doing any mischief. how should an innocent boy, who might easily have been an orphan had things happened in that way, know all about cooking and chemistry and such, i should like to know. it was really sue's fault. nothing would do but she must give a party, and of course she must have ice-cream. now the ice-cream that our cake-shop man makes isn't good enough for her, so she got father to buy an ice-cream freezer, and said she would make the ice-cream herself. i was to help her, and she sent me to the store to order some salt. i asked her what she wanted of salt, and she said that you couldn't freeze ice-cream without plenty of salt, and that it was almost as necessary as ice. i went to the store and ordered the salt, and then had a game or two of ball with the boys, and didn't get home till late in the afternoon. there was sue freezing the ice-cream, and suffering dreadfully, so she said. she had to go and dress right away, and told me to keep turning the ice-cream freezer till it froze and don't run off and leave me to do everything again you good-for-nothing boy i wonder how you can do it. i turned that freezer for ever so long, but nothing would freeze; so i made up my mind that it wanted more salt. i didn't want to disturb anybody, so i quietly went into the kitchen and got the salt-cellar, and emptied it into the ice-cream. it began to freeze right away; but i tasted it, and it was awfully salt, so i got the jug of golden sirup and poured about a pint into the ice-cream, and when it was done it was a beautiful straw-color. [illustration: sue's ice-cream party.] but there was an awful scene when the party tried to eat that ice-cream. sue handed it round, and said to everybody, "this is my ice-cream, and you must be sure to like it." the first one she gave it to was dr. porter. he is dreadfully fond of ice-cream, and he smiled such a big smile, and said he was sure it was delightful, and took a whole spoonful. then he jumped up as if something had bit him, and went out of the door in two jumps, and we didn't see him again. then three more men tasted their ice-cream, and jumped up, and ran after the doctor, and two girls said, "oh my!" and held their handkerchiefs over their faces, and turned just as pale. and then everybody else put their ice-cream down on the table, and said thank you they guessed they wouldn't take any. the party was regularly spoiled, and when i tasted the ice-cream i didn't wonder. it was worse than the best kind of strong medicine. sue was in a dreadful state of mind, and when the party had gone home--all but one man, who lay under the apple-tree all night and groaned like he was dying, only we thought it was cats--she made me tell her all about the salt and the golden sirup. she wouldn't believe that i had tried to do my best, and didn't mean any harm. father took her part, and said i ought to eat some of the ice-cream, since i made it; but i said i'd rather go up-stairs with him. so i went. some of these days people will begin to understand that they are just wasting and throwing away a boy who always tries to do his best, and perhaps they'll be sorry when it is too late. my pig. i don't say that i didn't do wrong, but what i do say is that i meant to do right. but that don't make any difference. it never does. i try to do my very best, and then something happens, and i am blamed for it. when i think what a disappointing world this is, full of bamboo-canes and all sorts of switches, i feel ready to leave it. it was sue's fault in the beginning; that is, if it hadn't been for her it wouldn't have happened. one sunday she and i were sitting in the front parlor, and she was looking out of the window and watching for mr. travers; only she said she wasn't, and that she was just looking to see if it was going to rain, and solemnizing her thoughts. i had just asked her how old she was, and couldn't mr. travers have been her father if he had married mother, when she said, "dear me how tiresome that boy is do take a book and read for gracious sake." i said, "what book?" so she gets up and gives me the _observer_, and says, "there's a beautiful story about a good boy and a pig do read it and keep still if you know how and i hope it will do you some good." well, i read the story. it told all about a good boy whose name was james, and his father was poor, and so he kept a pig that cost him twenty-five cents, and when it grew up he sold it for thirty dollars, and he brought the money to his father and said, "here father! take this o how happy i am to help you when you're old and not good for much," and his father burst into tears, but i don't know what for. i wouldn't burst into tears much if anybody gave me thirty dollars; and said, "bless you my noble boy you and your sweet pig have saved me from a watery grave," or something like that. it was a real good story, and it made me feel like being likewise. so i resolved that i would get a little new pig for twenty-five cents, and keep it till it grew up, and then surprise father with twenty-nine dollars, and keep one for myself as a reward for my good conduct. only i made up my mind not to let anybody know about it till after the pig should be grown up, and then how the family would be delighted with my "thoughtful and generous act!" for that's what the paper said james's act was. the next day i went to farmer smith, and got him to give me a little pig for nothing, only i agreed to help him weed his garden all summer. it was a beautiful pig, about as big as our baby, only it was a deal prettier, and its tail was elegant. i wrapped it up in an old shawl, and watched my chance and got it up into my room, which is on the third story. then i took my trunk and emptied it, and bored some holes in it for air, and put the pig in it. i had the best fun that ever was, all that day and the next day, taking care of that dear little pig. i gave him one of my coats for a bed, and fed him on milk, and took him out of the trunk every little while for exercise. nobody goes into my room very often, except the girl to make the bed, and when she came i shut up the trunk, and she never suspected anything. i got a whole coal-scuttleful of the very best mud, and put it in the corner of the room for him to play in, and when i heard bridget coming, i meant to throw the bedquilt over it, so she wouldn't suspect anything. after i had him two days i heard mother say, "seems to me i hear very queer noises every now and then up-stairs." i knew what the matter was, but i never said anything, and i felt so happy when i thought what a good boy i was to raise a pig for my dear father. bridget went up to my room about eight o'clock one evening, just before i was going to bed, to take up my clean clothes. we were all sitting in the dining-room, when we heard her holler as if she was being murdered. we all ran out to see what was the matter, and were half-way up the stairs when the pig came down and upset the whole family, and piled them up on the top of himself at the foot of the stairs, and before we got up bridget came down and fell over us, and said she had just opened the young masther's thrunk and out jumps the ould satan himself and she must see the priest or she would be a dead woman. you wouldn't believe that, though i told them that i was raising the pig to sell it and give the money to father, they all said that they had never heard of such an abandoned and peremptory boy, and father said, "come up-stairs with me and i'll see if i can't teach you that this house isn't a pig-pen." i don't know what became of the pig, for he broke the parlor window and ran away, and nobody ever heard of him again. i'd like to see that boy james. i don't care how big he is. i'd show him that he can't go on setting good examples to innocent boys without suffering as he deserves to suffer. going to be a pirate. i don't know if you are acquainted with tom mcginnis. everybody knows his father, for he's been in congress, though he is a poor man, and sells hay and potatoes, and i heard father say that mr. mcginnis is the most remarkable man in the country. well, tom is mr. mcginnis's boy, and he's about my age, and thinks he's tremendously smart; and i used to think so too, but now i don't think quite so much of him. he and i went away to be pirates the other day, and i found out that he will never do for a pirate. you see, we had both got into difficulties. it wasn't my fault, i am sure, but it's such a painful subject that i won't describe it. i will merely say that after it was all over, i went to see tom to tell him that it was no use to put shingles under your coat, for how is that going to do your legs any good, and i tried it because tom advised me to. i found that he had just had a painful scene with his father on account of apples; and i must say it served him right, for he had no business to touch them without permission. so i said, "look here, tom, what's the use of our staying at home and being laid onto with switches and our best actions misunderstood and our noblest and holiest emotions held up to ridicule?" that's what i heard a young man say to sue one day, but it was so beautiful that i said it to tom myself. "oh, go 'way," said tom. "that's what i say," said i. "let's go away and be pirates. there's a brook that runs through deacon sammis's woods, and it stands to reason that it must run into the spanish main, where all the pirates are. let's run away, and chop down a tree, and make a canoe, and sail down the brook till we get to the spanish main, and then we can capture a schooner, and be regular pirates." "hurrah!" says tom. "we'll do it. let's run away to-night. i'll take father's hatchet, and the carving-knife, and some provisions, and meet you back of our barn at ten o'clock." "i'll be there," said i. "only, if we're going to be pirates, let's be strictly honest. don't take anything belonging to your father. i've got a hatchet, and a silver knife with my name on it, and i'll save my supper and take it with me." so that night i watched my chance, and dropped my supper into my handkerchief, and stuffed it into my pocket. when ten o'clock came, i tied up my clothes in a bundle, and took my hatchet and the silver knife and some matches, and slipped out the back door, and met tom. he had nothing with him but his supper and a backgammon board and a bag of marbles. we went straight for the woods, and after we'd selected a big tree to cut down, we ate our supper. just then the moon went under a cloud, and it grew awfully dark. we couldn't see very well how to chop the tree, and after tom had cut his fingers, we put off cutting down the tree till morning, and resolved to build a fire. we got a lot of fire-wood, but i dropped the matches, and when we found them again they were so damp that they wouldn't light. all at once the wind began to blow, and made a dreadful moaning in the woods. tom said it was bears, and that though he wanted to be a pirate, he hadn't calculated on having any bears. then he said it was cold, and so it was, but i told him that it would be warm enough when we got to the spanish main, and that pirates ought not to mind a little cold. pretty soon it began to rain, and then tom began to cry. it just poured down, and the way our teeth chattered was terrible. by-and-by tom jumped up, and said he wasn't going to be eaten up by bears and get an awful cold, and he started on a run for home. of course i wasn't going to be a pirate all alone, for there wouldn't be any fun in that, so i started after him. he must have been dreadfully frightened, for he ran as fast as he could, and as i was in a hurry, i tried to catch up with him. if he hadn't tripped over a root, and i hadn't tripped over him, i don't believe i could have caught him. when i fell on him, you ought to have heard him yell. he thought i was a bear, but any sensible pirate would have known i wasn't. tom left me at his front gate, and said he had made up his mind he wouldn't be a pirate, and that it would be a great deal more fun to be a plumber and melt lead. i went home, and as the house was locked up, i had to ring the front-door bell. father came to the door himself, and when he saw me, he said, "jimmy, what in the world does this mean?" so i told him that tom and me had started for the spanish main to be pirates, but tom had changed his mind, and that i thought i'd change mine too. father had me put to bed, and hot bottles and things put in the bed with me, and before i went to sleep, he came and said, "good-night, jimmy. we'll try and have more fun at home, so that there won't be any necessity of your being a pirate." and i said, "dear father, i'd a good deal rather stay with you, and i'll never be a pirate without your permission." this is why i say that tom mcginnis will never make a good pirate. he's too much afraid of getting wet. rats and mice. it's queer that girls are so dreadfully afraid of rats and mice. men are never afraid of them, and i shouldn't mind if there were mornamillion mice in my bedroom every night. mr. travers told sue and me a terrible story one day about a woman that was walking through a lonely field, when she suddenly saw a field-mouse right in front of her. she was a brave woman; so after she had said, "oh my! save me, somebody!" she determined to save herself if she could, for there was nobody within miles of her. there was a tree not very far off, and she had just time to climb up the tree and seat herself in the branches, when the mouse reached its foot. there that animal stayed for six days and nights, squeaking in a way that made the woman's blood run cold, and waiting for her to come down. on the seventh day, when she was nearly exhausted, a man with a gun came along, and shot the mouse, and saved her life. i don't believe this story, and i told mr. travers so; for a woman couldn't climb a tree, and even if she could, what would hinder the mouse from climbing after her? sue has a new young man, who comes every monday and wednesday night. one day he said, "jimmy, if you'll get me a lock of your sister's hair, i'll give you a nice dog." i told him he was awfully kind, but i didn't think it would be honest for me to take sue's best hair, but that i'd try to get him some of her every-day hair. and he said, "what on earth do you mean, jimmy?" and i said that sue had got some new back hair a little while ago, for i was with her when she bought it, and i knew she wouldn't like me to take any of that. so he said it was no matter, and he'd give me the dog anyway. i told sue afterwards all about it, just to show her how honest i was, and instead of telling me i was a good boy, she said, "oh you little torment g'way and never let me see you again," and threw herself down on the sofa and howled dreadfully, and mother came and said, "jimmy, if you want to kill your dear sister, you can just keep on doing as you do." such is the gratitude of grown-up folks. mr. withers--that's the new young man--brought the dog, as he said he would. he's a beautiful scotch terrier, and he said he would kill rats like anything, and was two years old, and had had the distemper; that is, mr. withers said the dog would kill rats, and of course mr. withers himself never had the distemper. of course i wanted to see the dog kill rats, so i took him to a rat-hole in the kitchen, but he barked at it so loud that no rat would think of coming out. if you want to catch rats, you mustn't begin by barking and scratching at rat-holes, but you must sit down and kind of wink with one eye and lay for them, just as cats do. i told mr. withers that the dog couldn't catch any rats, and he said he would bring me some in a box, and i could let them out, and the dog would kill every single one of them. the next evening sue sent me down to the milliner's to bring her new bonnet home, and don't you be long about it either you idle worthless boy. well, i went to the milliner's shop, but the bonnet wasn't done yet; and as i passed mr. withers's office, he said, "come here, jimmy; i've got those rats for you." he gave me a wooden box like a tea-chest, and told me there were a dozen rats in it, and i'd better have the dog kill them at once, or else they'd gnaw out before morning. when i got home, sue met me at the door, and said, "give me that bandbox this instant you've been mornanour about it." i tried to tell her that it wasn't her box; but she wouldn't listen, and just snatched it and went into the parlor, where there were three other young ladies who had come to see her, and slammed the door; but the dog slipped in with her. in about a minute i heard the most awful yells that anybody ever heard. it sounded as if all the furniture in the parlor was being smashed into kindling wood, and the dog kept barking like mad. the next minute a girl came flying out of the front window, and another girl jumped right on her before she had time to get out of the way, and they never stopped crying, "help murder let me out oh my!" [illustration: sue had opened the box.] i knew, of course, that sue had opened the box and let the rats out, and though i wanted ever so much to know if the dog had killed them all, i thought she would like it better if i went back to the milliner's and waited a few hours for the bonnet. i brought it home about nine o'clock; but sue had gone to bed, and the servant had just swept up the parlor, and piled the pieces of furniture on the piazza. father won't be home till next week, and perhaps by that time sue will get over it. i wish i did know if the dog killed all those rats, and how long it took him. hunting the rhinoceros. we ought always to be useful, and do good to everybody. i used to think that we ought always to improve our minds, and i think so some now, though i have got into dreadful difficulties all through improving my mind. but i am not going to be discouraged. i tried to be useful the other day, and do good to the heathen in distant lands, and you wouldn't believe what trouble it made. there are some people who would never do good again if they had got into the trouble that i got into; but the proverb says that if at first you don't succeed, cry, cry again; and there was lots of crying, i can tell you, over our rhinoceros, that we thought was going to do so much good. it all happened because aunt eliza was staying at our house. she had a sunday-school one afternoon, and tom mcginnis and i were the scholars, and she told us about a boy that got up a panorama about the _pilgrim's progress_ all by himself, and let people see it for ten cents apiece, and made ten dollars, and sent it to the missionaries, and they took it and educated mornahundred little heathens with it, and how nice it would be if you dear boys would go and do likewise and now we'll sing "hold the fort." well, tom and i thought about it, and we said we'd get up a menagerie, and we'd take turns playing animals, and we'd let folks see it for ten cents apiece, and make a lot of money, and do ever so much good. we got a book full of pictures of animals, and we made skins out of cloth to go all over us, so that we'd look just like animals when we had them on. we had a lion's and a tiger's and a bear's and a rhinoceros's skin, besides a whole lot of others. as fast as we got the skins made, we hung them up in a corner of the barn where nobody would see them. the way we made them was to show the pictures to mother and to aunt eliza, and they did the cutting out and the sewing, and sue she painted the stripes on the tiger, and the fancy touches on the other animals. our rhinoceros was the best animal we had. the rhinoceros is a lovely animal when he's alive. he is almost as big as an elephant, and he has a skin that is so thick that you can't shoot a bullet through it unless you hit it in a place that is a little softer than the other places. he has a horn on the end of his nose, and he can toss a tiger with it till the tiger feels sick, and says he won't play any more. the rhinoceros lives in africa, and he would toss 'most all the natives if it wasn't that they fasten an india-rubber ball on the end of his horn, so that when he tries to toss anybody, the horn doesn't hurt, and after a while the rhinoceros gets discouraged, and says, "oh, well, what's the good anyhow?" and goes away into the forest. at least this is what mr. travers says, but i don't believe it; for the rhinoceros wouldn't stand still and let the natives put an india-rubber ball on his horn, and they wouldn't want to waste india-rubber balls that way when they could play lawn-tennis with them. last saturday afternoon we had our first grand consolidated exhibition of the greatest menagerie on earth. we had two rows of chairs in the back yard, and all our folks and all tom's folks came, and we took in a dollar and sixty cents at the door, which was the back gate. i was a bear, first of all, and growled so natural that everybody said it was really frightful. then it was tom's turn to be an animal, and he was to be the raging rhinoceros of central africa. i helped dress him in the barn, and when he was dressed he looked beautiful. the rhinoceros's skin went all over him, and was tied together so that he couldn't get out of it without help. his horn was made of wood painted white, and his eyes were two agates. of course he couldn't see through them, but they looked natural, and as i was to lead him, he didn't need to see. [illustration: then he fell into the hot-bed, and broke all the glass.] i had just got him outside the barn, and had begun to say, "ladies and gentlemen, this is the raging rhinoceros," when he gave the most awful yell you ever heard, and got up on his hind-legs, and began to rush around as if he was crazy. he rushed against aunt eliza, and upset her all over the mcginnis girls, and then he banged up against the water-barrel, and upset that, and then he fell into the hot-bed, and broke all the glass. you never saw such an awful sight. the rhinoceros kept yelling all the time, only nobody could understand what he said, and pulling at his head with his fore-paws, and jumping up and down, and smashing everything in his way, and i went after him just as if i was a central african hunting a rhinoceros. i was almost frightened, and as for the folks, they ran into the house, all except aunt eliza, who had to be carried in. i kept as close behind the rhinoceros as i could, begging him to be quiet, and tell me what was the matter. after a while he lay down on the ground, and i cut the strings of his skin, so that he could get his head out and talk. he said he was 'most dead. the wasps had built a nest in one of his hind-legs as it was hanging in the barn, and they had stung him until they got tired. he said he'd never have anything more to do with the menagerie, and went home with his mother, and my mother said i must give him all the money, because he had suffered so much. but, as i said, i won't be discouraged, and will try to do good, and be useful to others the next time i see a fair chance. down cellar. we have had a dreadful time at our house, and i have done very wrong. oh, i always admit it when i've done wrong. there's nothing meaner than to pretend that you haven't done wrong when everybody knows you have. i didn't mean anything by it, though, and sue ought to have stood by me, when i did it all on her account, and just because i pitied her, if she was my own sister, and it was more her fault, i really think, than it was mine. mr. withers is sue's new young man, as i have told you already. he comes to see her every monday, wednesday, and friday evening, and mr. travers comes all the other evenings, and mr. martin is liable to come any time, and generally does--that is, if he doesn't have the rheumatism. though he hasn't but one real leg, he has twice as much rheumatism as father, with all his legs, and there is something very queer about it; and if i was he, i'd get a leg of something better than cork, and perhaps he'd have less pain in it. it all happened last tuesday night. just as it was getting dark, and sue was expecting mr. travers every minute, who should come in but mr. martin! now mr. martin is such an old acquaintance, and father thinks so much of him, that sue had to ask him in, though she didn't want him to meet mr. travers. so when she heard somebody open the front gate, she said, "oh, mr. martin i'm so thirsty and the servant has gone out, and you know just where the milk is for you went down cellar to get some the last time you were here do you think you would mind getting some for me?" mr. martin had often gone down cellar to help himself to milk, and i don't see what makes him so fond of it, so he said, "certainly with great pleasure," and started down the cellar stairs. it wasn't mr. travers, but mr. withers, who had come on the wrong night. he had not much more than got into the parlor when sue came rushing out to me, for i was swinging in the hammock on the front piazza, and said, "my goodness gracious jimmy what shall i do here's mr. withers and mr. travers will be here in a few minutes and there's mr. martin down cellar and i feel as if i should fly what shall i do?" i was real sorry for her, and thought i'd help her, for girls are not like us. they never know what to do when they are in a scrape, and they are full of absence of mind when they ought to have lots of presence of mind. so i said: "i'll fix it for you, sue. just leave it all to me. you stay here and meet mr. travers, who is just coming around the corner, and i'll manage mr. withers." sue said, "you darling little fellow there don't muss my hair;" and i went in, and said to mr. withers, in an awfully mysterious way, "mr. withers, i hear a noise in the cellar. don't tell sue, for she's dreadfully nervous. won't you go down and see what it is?" of course i knew it was mr. martin who was making the noise, though i didn't say so. "oh, it's nothing but rats, jimmy," said he, "or else the cat, or maybe it's the cook." "no, it isn't," said i. "if i was you, i'd go and see into it. sue thinks you're awfully brave." well, after a little more talk, mr. withers said he'd go, and i showed him the cellar-door, and got him started down-stairs, and then i locked the door, and went back to the hammock, and sue and mr. travers they sat in the front parlor. pretty soon i heard a heavy crash down cellar; as if something heavy had dropped, and then there was such a yelling and howling, just as if the cellar was full of murderers. mr. travers jumped up, and was starting for the cellar, when sue fainted away, and hung tight to him, and wouldn't let him go. i stayed in the hammock, and wouldn't have left it if father hadn't come down-stairs, but when i saw him going down cellar, i went after him to see what could possibly be the matter. [illustration: they thought they were both burglars.] father had a candle in one hand and a big club in another. you ought to have been there to see mr. martin and mr. withers. one of them had run against the other in the dark, and they thought they were both burglars. so they got hold of each other, and fell over the milk-pans and upset the soap-barrel, and then rolled round the cellar floor, holding on to each other, and yelling help murder thieves, and when we found them, they were both in the ash-bin, and the ashes were choking them. father would have pounded them with the club if i hadn't told him who they were. he was awfully astonished, and though he wouldn't say anything to hurt mr. martin's feelings, he didn't seem to care much for mine or mr. withers's, and when mr. travers finally came down, father told him that he was a nice young man, and that the whole house might have been murdered by burglars while he was enjoying himself in the front parlor. mr. martin went home after he got a little of the milk and soap and ashes and things off of him, but he was too angry to speak. mr. withers said he would never enter the house again, and mr. travers didn't even wait to speak to sue, he was in such a rage with mr. withers. after they were all gone, sue told father that it was all my fault, and father said he would attend to my case in the morning: only, when the morning came, he told me not to do it again, and that was all. i admit that i did do wrong, but i didn't mean it, and my only desire was to help my dear sister. you won't catch me helping her again very soon. our baby again. after this, don't say anything more to me about babies. there's nothing more spiteful and militious than a baby. our baby got me into an awful scrape once--the time i blacked it. but i don't blame it so much that time, because, after all, it was partly my fault; but now it has gone and done one of the meanest things a baby ever did, and came very near ruining me. it has been a long time since mother and sue said they would never trust me to take care of the baby again, but the other day they wanted awfully to go to a funeral. it was a funeral of one of their best friends, and there was to be lots of flowers, and they expected to see lots of people, and they said they would try me once more. they were going to be gone about two hours, and i was to take care of the baby till they came home again. of course i said i would do my best, and so i did; only when a boy does try to do his best, he is sure to get himself into trouble. how many a time and oft have i found this to be true! ah! this is indeed a hard and hollow world. the last thing sue said when she went out of the door was, "now be a good boy if you play any of your tricks i'll let you know." i wish mr. travers would marry her, and take her to china. i don't believe in sisters, anyway. they hadn't been gone ten minutes when the baby woke up and cried, and i knew it did it on purpose. now i had once read in an old magazine that if you put molasses on a baby's fingers, and give it a feather to play with, it will try to pick that feather off, and amuse itself, and keep quiet for ever so long. i resolved to try it; so i went straight down-stairs and brought up the big molasses jug out of the cellar. then i made a little hole in one of mother's pillows, and pulled out a good handful of feathers. the baby stopped crying as soon as it saw what i was at, and so led me on, just on purpose to get me into trouble. well, i put a little molasses on the baby's hands, and put the feathers in its lap, and told it to be good and play real pretty. the baby began to play with the feathers, just as the magazine said it would, so i thought i would let it enjoy itself while i went up to my room to read a little while. that baby never made a sound for ever so long, and i was thinking how pleased mother and sue would be to find out a new plan for keeping it quiet. i just let it enjoy itself till about ten minutes before the time when they were to get back from the funeral, and then i went down to mother's room to look after the "little innocent," as sue calls it. much innocence there is about that baby! i never saw such a awful spectacle. the baby had got hold of the molasses jug, which held mornagallon, and had upset it and rolled all over in it. the feathers had stuck to it so close that you couldn't hardly see its face, and its head looked just like a chicken's head. you wouldn't believe how that molasses had spread over the carpet. it seemed as if about half the room was covered with it. and there sat that wretched "little innocent" laughing to think how i'd catch it when the folks came home. now wasn't it my duty to wash that baby, and get the feathers and molasses off it? any sensible person would say that it was. i tried to wash it in the wash-basin, but the feathers kept sticking on again as fast as i got them off. so i took it to the bath-tub and turned the water on, and held the baby right under the stream. the feathers were gradually getting rinsed away, and the molasses was coming off beautifully, when something happened. the water made a good deal of noise, and i was standing with my back to the bath-room door, so that i did not hear anybody come in. the first thing i knew sue snatched the baby away, and gave me such a box over the ear. then she screamed out, "ma! come here this wicked boy is drowning the baby o you little wretch won't you catch it for this." mother came running up-stairs, and they carried the baby into mother's room to dry it. you should have heard what they said when sue slipped and sat down in the middle of the molasses, and cried out that her best dress was ruined, and mother saw what a state the carpet was in! i wouldn't repeat their language for worlds. it was personal, that's what it was, and i've been told fifty times never to make personal remarks. i should not have condescended to notice it if mother hadn't begun to cry; and of course i went and said i was awfully sorry, and that i meant it all for the best, and wouldn't have hurt the baby for anything, and begged her to forgive me and not cry any more. when father came home they told him all about it. i knew very well they would, and i just lined myself with shingles so as to be good and ready. but he only said, "my son, i have decided to try milder measures with you. i think you are punished enough when you reflect that you have made your mother cry." that was all, and i tell you i'd rather a hundred times have had him say, "my son, come up-stairs with me." and now if you don't admit that nothing could be meaner than the way that baby acted, i shall really be surprised and shocked. studying wasps. we had a lecture at our place the other day, because our people wanted to get even with the people of the next town, who had had a returned missionary with a whole lot of idols the week before. the lecture was all about wasps and beetles and such, and the lecturer had a magic lantern and a microscope, and everything that was adapted to improve and vitrify the infant mind, as our minister said when he introduced him. i believe the lecturer was a wicked, bad man, who came to our place on purpose to get me into trouble. else why did he urge the boys to study wasps, and tell us how to collect wasps' nests without getting stung? the grown-up people thought it was all right, however, and mr. travers said to me, "listen to what the gentleman says, jimmy, and improve your mind with wasps." well, i thought i would do as i was told, especially as i knew of a tremendous big wasps' nest under the eaves of our barn. i got a ladder and a lantern the very night after the lecture, and prepared to study wasps. the lecturer said that the way to do was to wait till the wasps go to bed, and then to creep up to their nest with a piece of thin paper all covered with wet mucilage, and to clap it right over the door of the nest. of course the wasps can't get out when they wake up in the morning, and you can take the nest and hang it up in your room; and after two or three days, when you open the nest and let the wasps out, and feed them with powdered sugar, they'll be so tame and grateful that they'll never think of stinging you, and you can study them all day long, and learn lots of useful lessons. now is it probable that any real good man would put a boy up to any such nonsense as this? it's my belief that the lecturer was hired by somebody to come and entice all our boys to get themselves stung. as i was saying, i got a ladder and a lantern, and a piece of paper covered with mucilage, and after dark i climbed up to the wasps' nest, and stopped up the door, and then brought the nest down in my hand. i was going to carry it up to my room, but just then mother called me; so i put the nest under the seat of our carriage, and went into the house, where i was put to bed for having taken the lantern out to the barn; and the next morning i forgot all about the nest. i forgot it because i was invited to go on a picnic with mr. travers and my sister sue and a whole lot of people, and any fellow would have forgot it if he had been in my place. mr. travers borrowed father's carriage, and he and sue were to sit on the back seat, and mr. travers's aunt, who is pretty old and cross, was to sit on the front seat with dr. jones, the new minister, and i was to sit with the driver. we all started about nine o'clock, and a big basket of provisions was crowded into the carriage between everybody's feet. we hadn't gone mornamile when mr. travers cries out: "my good gracious! sue, i've run an awful pin into my leg. why can't you girls be more careful about pins?" sue replied that she hadn't any pins where they could run into anybody, and was going to say something more, when she screamed as if she was killed, and began to jump up and down and shake herself. just then dr. jones jumped about two feet straight into the air, and said, "oh my!" and miss travers took to screaming, "fire! murder! help!" and slapping herself in a way that was quite awful. i began to think they were all going crazy, when all of a sudden i remembered the wasps' nest. somehow the wasps had got out of the nest, and were exploring all over the carriage. the driver stopped the horses to see what was the matter, and turned pale with fright when he saw dr. jones catch the basket of provisions and throw it out of the carriage, and then jump straight into it. then mr. travers and his aunt and sue all came flying out together, and were all mixed up with dr. jones and the provisions on the side of the road. they didn't stop long, however, for the wasps were looking for them; so they got up and rushed for the river, and went into it as if they were going to drown themselves--only it wasn't more than two feet deep. george--he's the driver--was beginning to ask, "is thishyer some swimmin' match that's goin' on?" when a wasp hit him on the neck, and another hit me on the cheek. we left that carriage in a hurry, and i never stopped till i got to my room and rolled myself up in the bedclothes. all the wasps followed me, so that mr. travers and sue and the rest of them were left in peace, and might have gone to the picnic, only they felt as if they must come home for arnica, and, besides, the horses had run away, though they were caught afterwards, and didn't break anything. this was all because that lecturer advised me to study wasps. i followed his directions, and it wasn't my fault that the wasps began to study mr. travers and his aunt, and sue and dr. jones, and me and george. but father, when he was told about it, said that my "conduct was such," and the only thing that saved me was that my legs were stung all over, and father said he didn't have the heart to do any more to them with a switch. a terrible mistake. i have been in the back bedroom up-stairs all the afternoon, and i am expecting father every minute. it was just after one o'clock when he told me to come up-stairs with him, and just then mr. thompson came to get him to go down town with him, and father said i'd have to excuse him for a little while and don't you go out of that room till i come back. so i excused him, and he hasn't come back yet; but i've opened one of the pillows and stuffed my clothes full of feathers, and i don't care much how soon he comes back now. it's an awful feeling to be waiting up-stairs for your father, and to know that you have done wrong, though you really didn't mean to do so much wrong as you have done. i am willing to own that nobody ought to take anybody's clothes when he's in swimming, but anyhow they began it first, and i thought just as much as could be that the clothes were theirs. the real boys that are to blame are joe wilson and amzi willetts. a week ago saturday tom mcginnis and i went in swimming down at the island. it's a beautiful place. the island is all full of bushes, and on one side the water is deep, where the big boys go in, and on the other it is shallow, where we fellows that can't swim very much where the water is more than two feet deep go in. while tom and i were swimming, joe and amzi came and stole our clothes, and put them in their boat, and carried them clear across the deep part of the river. we saw them do it, and we had an awful time to get the clothes back, and i think it was just as mean. tom and i said we'd get even with them, and i know it was wrong, because it was a revengeful feeling, but anyhow we said we'd do it; and i don't think revenge is so very bad when you don't hurt a fellow, and wouldn't hurt him for anything, and just want to play him a trick that is pretty nearly almost quite innocent. but i don't say we did right, and when i've done wrong i'm always ready to say so. well, tom and i watched, and last saturday we saw joe and amzi go down to the island, and go in swimming on the shallow side; so we waded across and sneaked down among the bushes, and after a while we saw two piles of clothes. so we picked them up and ran away with them. the boys saw us, and made a terrible noise; but we sung out that they'd know now how it felt to have your clothes carried off, and we waded back across the river, and carried the clothes up to amzi's house, and hid them in his barn, and thought that we'd got even with joe and amzi, and taught them a lesson which would do them a great deal of good, and would make them good and useful men. this was in the morning about noon, and when i had my dinner i thought i'd go and see how the boys liked swimming, and offer to bring back their clothes if they'd promise to be good friends. i never was more astonished in my life than i was to find that they were nowhere near the island. i was beginning to be afraid they'd been drowned, when i heard some men calling me, and i found squire meredith and amzi willetts's father, who is a deacon, hiding among the bushes. they told me that some villains had stolen their clothes while they were in swimming, and they'd give me fifty cents if i'd go up to their houses and get their wives to give me some clothes to bring down to them. i said i didn't want the fifty cents, but i'd go and try to find some clothes for them. i meant to go straight up to amzi's barn and to bring the clothes back, but on the way i met amzi with the clothes in a basket bringing them down to the island, and he said, "somebody's goin' to be arrested for stealing father's and squire meredith's clothes. i saw the fellows that stole 'em, and i'm going to tell." you see, tom and i had taken the wrong clothes, and squire meredith and deacon willetts, who had been in swimming on the deep side of the island, had been about two hours trying to play they were zulus, and didn't need to wear any clothes, only they found it pretty hard work. deacon willetts came straight to our house, and told father that his unhappy son--that's what he called me, and wasn't i unhappy, though--had stolen his clothes and squire meredith's; but for the sake of our family he wouldn't say very much about it, only if father thought best to spare the rods and spoil a child, he wouldn't be able to regard him as a man and a brother. so father called me and asked me if i had taken deacon willetts's clothes, and when i said yes, and was going to explain how it happened, he said that my conduct was such, and that i was bringing his gray hairs down, only i wouldn't hurt them for fifty million dollars, and i've often heard him say he hadn't a gray hair in his head. and now i'm waiting up-stairs for the awful moment to arrive. i deserve it, for they say that squire meredith and deacon willetts are mornhalf eaten up by mosquitoes, and are confined to the house with salt and water, and crying out all the time that they can't stand it. i hope the feathers will work, but if they don't, no matter. i think i shall be a missionary, and do good to the heathen. i think i hear father coming in the front gate now, so i must close. our bull-fight. i'm going to stop improving my mind. it gets me into trouble all the time. grown-up folks can improve their minds without doing any harm, for nobody ever tells them that their conduct is such, and that there isn't the least excuse in the world for them; but just as sure as a boy tries to improve his mind, especially with animals, he gets into dreadful difficulties. there was a man came to our town to lecture a while ago. he had been a great traveller, and knew all about rome and niagara falls and the north pole, and such places, and father said, "now, jimmy, here's an opportunity for you to learn something and improve your mind go and take your mother and do take an interest in something besides games." well, i went to the lecture. the man told all about the australian savages and their boomerangs. he showed us a boomerang, which is a stick with two legs, and an australian will throw it at a man, and it will go and hit him, and come back of its own accord. then he told us about the way the zulus throw their assegais--that's the right way to spell it--and spear an englishman that is mornten rods away from them. then he showed a long string with a heavy lead ball on each end, and said the south americans would throw it at a wild horse, and it would wind around the horse's legs, and tie itself into a bow-knot, and then the south americans would catch the horse. but the best of all was the account of a bull-fight which he saw in spain, with the queen sitting on a throne, and giving a crown of evergreens to the chief bull-fighter. he said that bull-fighting was awfully cruel, and that he told us about it so that we might be thankful that we are so much better than those dreadful spanish people, who will watch a bull-fight all day, and think it real fun. the next day i told mr. travers about the boomerang, and he said it was all true. once there was an australian savage in a circus, and he got angry, and he threw his boomerang at a man who was in the third story of a hotel. the boomerang went down one street and up another, and into the hotel door, and up-stairs, and knocked the man on the head, and came back the same way right into the australian savage's hand. i was so anxious to show father that i had listened to the lecture that i made a boomerang just like the one the lecturer had. when it was done, i went out into the back yard, and slung it at a cat on the roof of our house. it never touched the cat, but it went right through the dining-room window, and gave mr. travers an awful blow in the eye, besides hitting sue on the nose. it stopped right there in the dining-room, and never came back to me at all, and i don't believe a word the lecturer said about it. i don't feel courage to tell what father said about it. then i tried to catch mr. thompson's dog, that lives next door to us, with two lead balls tied on the ends of a long string. i didn't hit the dog any more than i did the cat, but i didn't do any harm except to mrs. thompson's cook, and she ought to be thankful that it was only her arm, for the doctor said that if the balls had hit her on the head they would have broken it, and the consequences might have been serious. it was a good while before i could find anything to make an assegai out of; but after hunting all over the house, i came across a lovely piece of bamboo about ten feet long, and just as light as a feather. then i got a big knife-blade that hadn't any handle to it, and that had been lying in father's tool-chest for ever so long, and fastened it on the end of the bamboo. you wouldn't believe how splendidly i could throw that assegai, only the wind would take it, and you couldn't tell when you threw it where it would bring up. i don't see how the zulus ever manage to hit an englishman; but mr. travers says that the englishmen are all so made that you can't very well miss them. and then perhaps the zulus, when they want to hit them, aim at something else. one day i was practising with the assegai at our barn-door, making believe that it was an englishman, when mr. carruthers, the butcher, drove by, and the assegai came down and went through his foot, and pinned it to the wagon. but he didn't see me, and i guess he got it out after a while, though i never saw it again. but what the lecturer taught us about bull-fights was worse than anything else. tom mcginnis's father has a terrible bull in the pasture, and tom and i agreed that we'd have a bull-fight, only, of course, we wouldn't hurt the bull. all we wanted to do was to show our parents how much we had learned about the geography and habits of the spaniards. tom mcginnis's sister jane, who is twelve years old, and thinks she knows everything, said she'd be the queen of spain, and give tom and me evergreen wreaths. i got an old red curtain out of the dining-room, and divided it with tom, so that we could wave it in the bull's face. when a bull runs after a bull-fighter, the other bull-fighter just waves his red rag, and the bull goes for him and lets the first bull-fighter escape. the lecturer said that there wasn't any danger so long as one fellow would always wave a red rag when the bull ran after the other fellow. pretty nearly all the school came down to the pasture to see our bull-fight. the queen of spain sat on the fence, because there wasn't any other throne, and the rest of the fellows and girls stood behind the fence. the bull was pretty savage; but tom and i had our red rags, and we weren't afraid of him. as soon as we went into the pasture the bull came for me, with his head down, and bellowing as if he was out of his mind. tom rushed up and waved his red rag, and the bull stopped running after me, and went after tom, just as the lecturer said he would. [illustration: he went twenty feet right up into the air.] i know i ought to have waved my red rag, so as to rescue tom, but i was so interested that i forgot all about it, and the bull caught up with tom. i should think he went twenty feet right up into the air, and as he came down he hit the queen of spain, and knocked her about six feet right against mr. mcginnis, who had come down to the pasture to stop the fight. the doctor says they'll all get well, though tom's legs are all broke, and his sister's shoulder is out of joint, and mr. mcginnis has got to get a new set of teeth. father didn't do a thing to me--that is, with anything--but he talked to me till i made up my mind that i'd never try to learn anything from a lecturer again, not even if he lectures about indians and scalping-knives. our balloon. i've made up my mind that half the trouble boys get into is the fault of the grown-up folks that are always wanting them to improve their minds. i never improved my mind yet without suffering for it. there was the time i improved it studying wasps, just as the man who lectured about wasps and elephants and other insects told me to. if it hadn't been for that man i never should have thought of studying wasps. one time our school-teacher told me that i ought to improve my mind by reading history, so i borrowed the history of _blackbeard the pirate_, and improved my mind for three or four hours every day. after a while father said, "bring that book to me, jimmy, and let's see what you're reading," and when he saw it, instead of praising me, he-- but what's the use of remembering our misfortunes? still, if i was grown up, i wouldn't get boys into difficulty by telling them to do all sorts of things. there was a professor came to our house the other day. a professor is a kind of man who wears spectacles up on the top of his head and takes snuff and doesn't talk english very plain. i believe professors come from somewhere near germany, and i wish this one had stayed in his own country. they live mostly on cabbage and such, and mr. travers says they are dreadfully fierce, and that when they are not at war with other people, they fight among themselves, and go on in the most dreadful way. this professor that came to see father didn't look a bit fierce, but mr. travers says that was just his deceitful way, and that if we had had a valuable old bone or a queer kind of shell in the house, the professor would have got up in the night, and stolen it and killed us all in our beds; but sue said it was a shame, and that the professor was a lovely old gentleman, and there wasn't the least harm in his kissing her. well, the professor was talking after dinner to father about balloons, and when he saw i was listening, he pretended to be awfully kind, and told me how to make a fire-balloon, and how he'd often made them and sent them up in the air; and then he told about a man who went up on horseback with his horse tied to a balloon; and father said, "now listen to the professor, jimmy, and improve your mind while you've got a chance." the next day tom mcginnis and i made a balloon just as the professor had told me to. it was made out of tissue-paper, and it had a sponge soaked full of alcohol, and when you set the alcohol on fire the tumefaction of the air would send the balloon mornamile high. we made it out in the barn, and thought we'd try it before we said anything to the folks about it, and then surprise them by showing them what a beautiful balloon we had, and how we'd improved our minds. just as it was all ready, sue's cat came into the barn, and i remembered the horse that had been tied to a balloon, and told tom we'd see if the balloon would take the cat up with it. [illustration: presently it went slowly up.] so we tied her with a whole lot of things so she would hang under the balloon without being hurt a bit, and then we took the balloon into the yard to try it. after the alcohol had burned a little while the balloon got full of air, and presently it went slowly up. there wasn't a bit of wind, and when it had gone up about twice as high as the house it stood still. you ought to have seen how that cat howled; but she was nothing compared with sue when she came out and saw her beloved beast. she screamed to me to bring her that cat this instant you good-for-nothing cruel little wretch won't you catch it when father comes home. now i'd like to know how i could reach a cat that was a hundred feet up in the air, but that's all the reasonableness that girls have. the balloon didn't stay up very long. it began to come slowly down, and when it struck the ground, the way that cat started on a run for the barn, and tried to get underneath it with the balloon all on fire behind her, was something frightful to see. by the time i could get to her and cut her loose, a lot of hay took fire and began to blaze, and tom ran for the fire-engine, crying out "fire!" with all his might. the firemen happened to be at the engine-house, though they're generally all over town, and nobody can find them when there is a fire. they brought the engine into our yard in about ten minutes, and just as sue and the cook and i had put the fire out. but that didn't prevent the firemen from working with heroic bravery, as our newspaper afterwards said. they knocked in our dining-room windows with axes, and poured about a thousand hogsheads of water into the room before we could make them understand that the fire was down by the barn, and had been put out before they came. this was all the professor's fault, and it has taught me a lesson. the next time anybody wants me to improve my mind i'll tell him he ought to be ashamed of himself. our new walk. for once i have done right. i always used to think that if i stuck to it, and tried to do what was right, i would hit it some day; but at last i pretty nearly gave up all hope, and was beginning to believe that no matter what i did, some of the grown-up folks would tell me that my conduct was such. but i have done a real useful thing that was just what father wanted, and he has said that he would overlook it this time. perhaps you think that this was not very encouraging to a boy; but if you had been told to come up-stairs with me my son as often as i have been, just because you had tried to do right, and hadn't exactly managed to suit people, you would be very glad to hear your father say that for once he would overlook it. did you ever play you were a ghost? i don't think much of ghosts, and wouldn't be a bit afraid if i was to see one. there was once a ghost that used to frighten people dreadfully by hanging himself to a hook in the wall. he was one of those tall white ghosts, and they are the very worst kind there is. this one used to come into the spare bedroom of the house where he lived before he was dead, and after walking round the room, and making as if he was in dreadfully low spirits, he would take a rope out of his pocket, and hang himself to a clothes-hook just opposite the bed, and the person who was in the bed would faint away with fright, and pull the bedclothes over his head, and be in the most dreadful agony until morning, when he would get up, and people would say, "why how dreadful you look your hair is all gray and you are whiternany sheet." one time a man came to stay at the house who wasn't afraid of anything, and he said, "i'll fix that ghost of yours; i'm a terror on wooden wheels when any ghosts are around, i am." so he was put to sleep in the room, and before he went to bed he loosened the hook, so that it would come down very easy, and then he sat up in bed and read till twelve o'clock. just when the clock struck, the ghost came in and walked up and down as usual, and finally got out his rope and hung himself; but as soon as he kicked away the chair he stood on when he hung himself, down came the hook, and the ghost fell all in a heap on the floor, and sprained his ankle, and got up and limped away, dreadfully ashamed, and nobody ever saw him again. father has been having the front garden walk fixed with an askfelt pavement. askfelt is something like molasses, only four times as sticky when it is new. after a while it grows real hard, only ours hasn't grown very hard yet. i watched the men put it down, and father said, "be careful and don't step on it until it gets hard or you'll stick fast in it and can't ever get out again. i'd like to see half a dozen meddlesome boys stuck in it and serve them right." as soon as i heard dear father mention what he'd like, i determined that he should have his wish, for there is nothing that is more delightful to a good boy than to please his father. that afternoon i mentioned to two or three boys that i knew were pretty bad boys that our melons were ripe, and that father was going to pick them in a day or two. the melon patch is at the back of the house, and after dark i dressed myself in one of mother's gowns, and hid in the wood-shed. about eleven o'clock i heard a noise, and looked out, and there were six boys coming in the back gate, and going for the melon patch. i waited till they were just ready to begin, and then i came out and said, in a hollow and protuberant voice, "beware!" they dropped the melons, and started to run, but they couldn't get to the back gate without passing close to me, and i knew they wouldn't try that. so they started to run round the house to the front gate, and i ran after them. when they reached the new front walk, they seemed to stop all of a sudden, and two or three of them fell down. [illustration: prying the boys out.] i didn't wait to hear what they had to say, but went quietly back, and got into the house through the kitchen-window, and went up-stairs to my room. i could hear them whispering, and now and then one or two of them would cry a little; but i thought it wouldn't be honorable to listen to them, so i went to sleep. in the morning there were five boys stuck in the askfelt, and frightened 'most to death. i got up early, and called father, and told him that there seemed to be something the matter with his new walk. when he came out and saw five boys caught in the pavement, and an extra pair of shoes that belonged to another boy who had wriggled out of them and gone away and left them, he was the most astonished man you ever saw. i told him how i had caught the boys stealing melons, and had played i was a ghost and frightened them away, and he said that if i'd help the coachman pry the boys out, he would overlook it. so he sat upon the piazza and overlooked the coachman and me while we pried the boys out, and they came out awfully hard, and the askfelt is full of pieces of trousers and things. i don't believe it will ever be a handsome walk; but whenever father looks at it he will think what a good boy i have been, which will give him more pleasure than a hundred new askfelt walks. a steam chair. i don't like mr. travers as much as i did. of course i know he's a very nice man, and he's going to be my brother when he marries sue, and he used to bring me candy sometimes, but he isn't what he used to be. one time--that was last summer--he was always dreadfully anxious to hear from the post-office, and whenever he came to see sue, and he and she and i would be sitting on the front piazza, he would say, "jimmy, i think there must be a letter for me; i'll give you ten cents if you'll go down to the post-office;" and then sue would say, "don't run, jimmy; you'll get heart disease if you do;" and i'd walk 'way down to the post-office, which is pretty near half a mile from our house. but now he doesn't seem to care anything about his letters; and he and sue sit in the back parlor, and mother says i mustn't go in and disturb them; and i don't get any more ten cents. i've learned that it won't do to fix your affections on human beings, for even the best of men won't keep on giving you ten cents forever. and it wasn't fair for mr. travers to get angry with me the other night, when it was all an accident--at least 'most all of it; and i don't think it's manly for a man to stand by and see a sister shake a fellow that isn't half her size, and especially when he never supposed that anything was going to happen to her even if it did break. when aunt eliza came to our house the last time, she brought a steam chair: that's what she called it, though there wasn't any steam about it. she brought it from europe with her, and it was the queerest sort of chair, that would all fold up, and had a kind of footstool to it, so that you put your legs out and just lie down in it. well, one day it got broken. the back of the seat fell down, and shut aunt eliza up in the chair so she couldn't get out, and didn't she just howl till somebody came and helped her! she was so angry that she said she never wanted to see that chair again, and you may have it if you want it jimmy for you are a good boy sometimes when you want to be. so i took the chair and mended it. the folks laughed at me, and said i couldn't mend it to save my life; but i got some nails and some mucilage, and mended it elegantly. then mother let me get some varnish, and i varnished the chair, and when it was done it looked so nice that sue said we'd keep it in the back parlor. now i'm never allowed to sit in the back parlor, so what good would my chair do me? but sue said, "stuff and nonsense that boy's indulged now till he can't rest." so they put my chair in the back parlor, just as if i'd been mending it on purpose for mr. travers. i didn't say anything more about it; but after it was in the back parlor i took out one or two screws that i thought were not needed to hold it together, and used them for a boat that i was making. that night mr. travers came as usual, and after he had talked to mother awhile about the weather, and he and father had agreed that it was a shame that other folks hadn't given more money to the michigan sufferers, and that they weren't quite sure that the sufferers were a worthy object, and that a good deal of harm was done by giving away money to all sorts of people, sue said, "perhaps we had better go into the back parlor; it is cooler there, and we won't disturb father, who wants to think about something." so she and mr. travers went into the back parlor, and shut the door, and talked very loud at first about a whole lot of things, and then quieted down, as they always did. i was in the front parlor, reading "robinson crusoe," and wishing i could go and do likewise--like crusoe, i mean; for i wouldn't go and sit quietly in a back parlor with a girl, like mr. travers, not if you were to pay me for it. i can't see what some fellows see in sue. i'm sure if mr. martin or mr. travers had her pull their hair once the way she pulls mine sometimes, they wouldn't trust themselves alone with her very soon. all at once we heard a dreadful crash in the back parlor, and mr. travers said good something very loud, and sue shrieked as if she had a needle run into her. father and mother and i and the cook and the chambermaid all rushed to see what was the matter. [illustration: it had shut up like a jack-knife.] the chair that i had mended, and that sue had taken away from me, had broken down while mr. travers was sitting in it, and it had shut up like a jack-knife, and caught him so he couldn't get out. it had caught sue too, who must have run to help him, or she never would have been in that fix, with mr. travers holding her by the waist, and her arm wedged in so she couldn't pull it away. father managed to get them loose, and then sue caught me and shook me till i could hear my teeth rattle, and then she ran up-stairs and locked herself up; and mr. travers never offered to help me, but only said, "i'll settle with you some day, young man," and then he went home. but father sat down on the sofa and laughed, and said to mother, "i guess sue would have done better if she'd have let the boy keep his chair." animals. i should like to be an animal. not an insect, of course, nor a snake, but a nice kind of animal, like an elephant or a dog with a good master. animals are awfully intelligent, but they haven't any souls. there was once an elephant in a circus, and one day a boy said to him, "want a lump of sugar, old fellow?" the elephant he nodded, and felt real grateful, for elephants are very fond of lump-sugar, which is what they live on in their native forests. but the boy put a cigar instead of a lump of sugar in his mouth. the sagacious animal, instead of eating up the cigar or trying to smoke it and making himself dreadfully sick, took it and carried it across the circus to a man who kept a candy and cigar stand, and made signs that he'd sell the cigar for twelve lumps of sugar. the man gave the elephant the sugar and took the cigar, and then the intelligent animal sat down on his hind-legs and laughed at the boy who had tried to play a joke on him, until the boy felt that much ashamed that he went right home and went to bed. in the days when there were fairies--only i don't believe there ever were any fairies, and mr. travers says they were rubbish--boys were frequently changed into animals. there was once a boy who did something that made a wicked fairy angry, and she changed him into a cat, and thought she had punished him dreadfully. but the boy after he was a cat used to come and get on her back fence and yowl as if he was ten or twelve cats all night long, and she couldn't get a wink of sleep, and fell into a fever, and had to take lots of castor-oil and dreadful medicines. so she sent for the boy who was a cat, you understand, and said she'd change him back again. but he said, "oh no; i'd much rather be a cat, for i'm so fond of singing on the back fence." and the end of it was that she had to give him a tremendous pile of money before he'd consent to be changed back into a boy again. boys can play being animals, and it's great fun, only the other boys who don't play they are animals get punished for it, and i say it's unjust, especially as i never meant any harm at all, and was doing my very best to amuse the children. this is the way it happened. aunt sarah came to see us the other day, and brought her three boys with her. i don't think you ever heard of aunt sarah, and i wish i never had. she's one of father's sisters, and he thinks a great deal more of her than i would if she was my sister, and i don't think it's much credit to anybody to be a sister anyway. the boys are twins, that is, two of them are, and they are all about three or four years old. well, one day just before christmas, when it was almost as warm out-doors as it is in summer, aunt sarah said, "jimmy, i want you to take the dear children out and amuse them a few hours. i know you're so fond of your dear little cousins and what a fine manly boy you are!" so i took them out, though i didn't want to waste my time with little children, for we are responsible for wasting time, and ought to use every minute to improve ourselves. the boys wanted to see the pigs that belong to mr. taylor, who lives next door, so i took them through a hole in the fence, and they looked at the pigs, and one of them said, "oh my how sweet they are and how i would like to be a little pig and never be washed and have lots of swill!" so i said, "why don't you play you are pigs, and crawl round and grunt? it's just as easy, and i'll look at you." you see, i thought i ought to amuse them, and that this would be a nice way to teach them to amuse themselves. well, they got down on all fours and ran round and grunted, until they began to get tired of it, and then wanted to know what else pigs could do, so i told them that pigs generally rolled in the mud, and the more mud a pig could get on himself the happier he would be, and that there was a mud puddle in our back yard that would make a pig cry like a child with delight. the boys went straight to that mud puddle, and they rolled in the mud until there wasn't an inch of them that wasn't covered with mud so thick that you would have to get a crowbar to pry it off. [illustration: "we've been playing we were pigs, ma."] just then aunt sarah came to the door and called them, and when she saw them she said, "good gracious what on earth have you been doing?" and tommy, that's the oldest boy, said, "we've been playing we were pigs ma and it's real fun and wasn't jimmy good to show us how?" i think they had to boil the boys in hot water before they could get the mud off, and their clothes have all got to be sent to the poor people out west whose things were all lost in the great floods. if you'll believe it, i never got the least bit of thanks for showing the boys how to amuse themselves, but aunt sarah said that i'd get something when father came home, and she wasn't mistaken. i'd rather not mention what it was that i got, but i got it mostly on the legs, and i think bamboo canes ought not to be sold to fathers any more than poison. i was going to tell why i should like to be an animal; but as it is getting late, i must close. a pleasing experiment. every time i try to improve my mind with science i resolve that i will never do it again, and then i always go and do it. science is so dreadfully tempting that you can hardly resist it. mr. travers says that if anybody once gets into the habit of being a scientific person there is little hope that he will ever reform, and he says he has known good men who became habitual astronomers, and actually took to prophesying weather, all because they yielded to the temptation to look through telescopes, and to make figures on the black-board with chalk. i was reading a lovely book the other day. it was all about balloons and parachutes. a parachute is a thing that you fall out of a balloon with. it is something like an open umbrella, only nobody ever borrows it. if you hold a parachute over your head and drop out of a balloon, it will hold you up so that you will come down to the ground so gently that you won't be hurt the least bit. i told tom mcginnis about it, and we said we would make a parachute, and jump out of the second-story window with it. it is easy enough to make one, for all you have to do is to get a big umbrella and open it wide, and hold on to the handle. last saturday afternoon tom came over to my house, and we got ready to try what the book said was "a pleasing scientific experiment." we didn't have the least doubt that the book told the truth. but tom didn't want to be the first to jump out of the window--neither did i--and we thought we'd give sue's kitten a chance to try a parachute, and see how she liked it. sue had an umbrella that was made of silk, and was just the thing to suit the kitten. i knew sue wouldn't mind lending the umbrella, and as she was out making calls, and i couldn't ask her permission, i borrowed the umbrella and the kitten, and meant to tell her all about it as soon as she came home. we tied the kitten fast to the handle of the umbrella, so as not to hurt her, and then dropped her out of the window. the wind was blowing tremendously hard, which i supposed was a good thing, for it is the air that holds up a parachute, and of course the more wind there is, the more air there is, and the better the parachute will stay up. the minute we dropped the cat and the umbrella out of the window, the wind took them and blew them clear over the back fence into deacon smedley's pasture before they struck the ground. this was all right enough, but the parachute didn't stop after it struck the ground. it started across the country about as fast as a horse could run, hitting the ground every few minutes, and then bouncing up into the air and coming down again, and the kitten kept clawing at everything, and yowling as if she was being killed. by the time tom and i could get down-stairs the umbrella was about a quarter of a mile off. we chased it till we couldn't run any longer, but we couldn't catch it, and the last we saw of the umbrella and the cat they were making splendid time towards the river, and i'm very much afraid they were both drowned. tom and i came home again, and when we got a little rested we said we would take the big umbrella and try the pleasing scientific experiment; at least i said that tom ought to try it, for we had proved that a little silk umbrella would let a kitten down to the ground without hurting her, and of course a great big umbrella would hold tom up all right. i didn't care to try it myself, because tom was visiting me, and we ought always to give up our own pleasures in order to make our visitors happy. after a while tom said he would do it, and when everything was ready he sat on the window-ledge, with his legs hanging out, and when the wind blew hard he jumped. [illustration: he lit right on the han's head.] it is my opinion, now that the thing is all over, that the umbrella wasn't large enough, and that if tom had struck the ground he would have been hurt. he went down awfully fast, but by good-luck the grocer's man was just coming out of the kitchen-door as tom came down, and he lit right on the man's head. it is wonderful how lucky some people are, for the grocer's man might have been hurt if he hadn't happened to have a bushel basket half full of eggs with him, and as he and tom both fell into the eggs, neither of them was hurt. they were just getting out from among the eggs when sue came in with some of the ribs of her umbrella that somebody had fished out of the river and given to her. there didn't seem to be any kitten left, for sue didn't know anything about it, but father and mr. mcginnis came in a few minutes afterwards, and i had to explain the whole thing to them. this is the last "pleasing scientific experiment" i shall ever try. i don't think science is at all nice, and, besides, i am awfully sorry about the kitten. traps. a boy ought always to stand up for his sister, and protect her from everybody, and do everything to make her happy, for she can only be his sister once, and he would be so awfully sorry if she died and then he remembered that his conduct towards her had sometimes been such. mr. withers doesn't come to our house any more. one night sue saw him coming up the garden-walk, and father said, "there's the other one coming, susan; isn't this travers's evening?" and then sue said, "i do wish somebody would protect me from him he is that stupid don't i wish i need never lay eyes on him again." i made up my mind that nobody should bother my sister while she had a brother to protect her. so the next time i saw mr. withers i spoke to him kindly and firmly--that's the way grown-up people speak when they say something dreadfully unpleasant--and told him what sue had said about him, and that he ought not to bother her any more. mr. withers didn't thank me and say that he knew i was trying to do him good, which was what he ought to have said, but he looked as if he wanted to hurt somebody, and walked off without saying a word to me, and i don't think he was polite about it. he has never been at our house since. when i told sue how i had protected her she was so overcome with gratitude that she couldn't speak, and just motioned me with a book to go out of her room and leave her to feel thankful about it by herself. the book very nearly hit me on the head, but it wouldn't have hurt much if it had. mr. travers was delighted about it, and told me that i had acted like a man, and that he shouldn't forget it. the next day he brought me a beautiful book all about traps. it told how to make mornahundred different kinds of traps that would catch everything, and it was one of the best books i ever saw. our next-door neighbor, mr. schofield, keeps pigs, only he don't keep them enough, for they run all around. they come into our garden and eat up everything, and father said he would give almost anything to get rid of them. now one of the traps that my book told about was just the thing to catch pigs with. it was made out of a young tree and a rope. you bend the tree down and fasten the rope to it so as to make a slippernoose, and when the pig walks into the slippernoose the tree flies up and jerks him into the air. i thought that i couldn't please father better than to make some traps and catch some pigs; so i got a rope, and got two irishmen that were fixing the front walk to bend down two trees for me and hold them while i made the traps. this was just before supper, and i expected that the pigs would come early the next morning and get caught. it was bright moonlight that evening, and mr. travers and sue said the house was so dreadfully hot that they would go and take a walk. they hadn't been out of the house but a few minutes when we heard an awful shriek from sue, and we all rushed out to see what was the matter. mr. travers had walked into a trap, and was swinging by one leg, with his head about six feet from the ground. nobody knew him at first except me, for when a person is upside down he doesn't look natural; but i knew what was the matter, and told father that it would take two men to bend down the tree and get mr. travers loose. so they told me to run and get mr. schofield to come and help, and they got the step-ladder so that sue could sit on the top of it and hold mr. travers's head. i was so excited that i forgot all about the other trap, and, besides, sue had said things to me that hurt my feelings, and that prevented me from thinking to tell mr. schofield not to get himself caught. he ran ahead of me, because he was so anxious to help, and the first thing i knew there came an awful yell from him, and up he went into the air, and hung there by both legs, which i suppose was easier than the way mr. travers hung. then everybody went at me in the most dreadful way, except sue, who was holding mr. travers's head. they said the most unkind things to me, and sent me into the house. i heard afterwards that father got mr. schofield's boy to climb up and cut mr. travers and mr. schofield loose, and they fell on the gravel, but it didn't hurt them much, only mr. schofield broke some of his teeth, and says he is going to bring a lawsuit against father. mr. travers was just as good as he could be. he only laughed the next time he saw me, and he begged them not to punish me, because it was his fault that i ever came to know about that kind of trap. mr. travers is the nicest man that ever lived, except father, and when he marries sue i shall go and live with him, though i haven't told him yet, for i want to keep it as a pleasant surprise for him. an accident. aunt eliza never comes to our house without getting me into difficulties. i don't really think she means to do it, but it gets itself done just the same. she was at our house last week, and though i meant to behave in the most exemplifying manner, i happened by accident to do something which she said ought to fill me with remorse for the rest of my days. remorse is a dreadful thing to have. some people have it so bad that they never get over it. there was once a ghost who suffered dreadfully from remorse. he was a tall white ghost, with a large cotton umbrella. he haunted a house where he used to walk up and down, carrying his umbrella and looking awfully solemn. people used to wonder what he wanted of an umbrella, but they never asked him, because they always shrieked and fainted away when they saw the ghost, and when they were brought to cried, "save me take it away take it away." one time a boy came to the house to spend christmas. he was just a terror, was this boy. he had been a district telegraph messenger boy, and he wasn't afraid of anything. the folks told him about the ghost, but he said he didn't care for any living ghost, and had just as soon see him as not. that night the boy woke up, and saw the ghost standing in his bedroom, and he said, "thishyer is nice conduct, coming into a gentleman's room without knocking. what do you want, anyway?" the ghost replied in the most respectful way that he wanted to find the owner of the umbrella. "i stole that umbrella when i was alive," he said, "and i am filled with remorse." "i should think you would be," said the boy, "for it is the worst old cotton umbrella i ever saw." "if i can only find the owner and give it back to him," continued the ghost, "i can get a little rest; but i've been looking for him for ninety years, and i can't find him." "serves you right," said the boy, "for not sending for a messenger. you're in luck to meet me. gimme the umbrella, and i'll give it back to the owner." "bless you," said the ghost, handing the umbrella to the boy; "you have saved me. now i will go away and rest," and he turned to go out of the door, when the boy said, "see here; it's fifty cents for taking an umbrella home, and i've got to be paid in advance." "but i haven't got any money," said the ghost. "can't help that," said the boy. "you give me fifty cents, or else take your umbrella back again. we don't do any work in our office for nothing." well, the end of it all was that the ghost left the umbrella with the boy, and the next night he came back with the money, though where he got it nobody will ever know. the boy kept the money, and threw the umbrella away, for he was a real bad boy, and only made believe that he was going to find the owner, and the ghost was never seen again. but i haven't told about the trouble with aunt eliza yet. the day she came to our house mother bought a lot of live crabs from a man, and put them in a pail in the kitchen. tom mcginnis was spending the day with me, and i said to him what fun it would be to have crab races, such as we used to have down at the sea-shore last summer. he said wouldn't it, though; so each of us took three crabs, and went up-stairs into the spare bedroom, where we could be sure of not being disturbed. we had a splendid time with the crabs, and i won more than half the races. all of a sudden i heard mother calling me, and tom and i just dropped the crabs into an empty work-basket, and pushed it under the sofa out of sight, and then went down-stairs. i meant to get the crabs and take them back to the kitchen again, but i forgot all about it, for aunt eliza came just after mother had called me, and everybody was busy talking to her. of course she was put into the spare room, and as she was very tired, she said she'd lie down on the sofa until dinner-time and take her hair down. [illustration: he pinched just as hard as he could pinch.] about an hour afterwards we heard the most dreadful cries from aunt eliza's room, and everybody rushed up-stairs, because they thought she must certainly be dead. mother opened the door, and we all went in. aunt eliza was standing in the middle of the floor, and jumping up and down, and crying and shrieking at the top of her voice. one crab was hanging on to one of her fingers, and he pinched just as hard as he could pinch, and there were two more hanging on to the ends of her hair. you see, the crabs had got out of the work-basket, and some of them had climbed up the sofa while aunt eliza was asleep. of course they said it was all my fault, and perhaps it was. but i'd like to know if it's a fair thing to leave crabs where they can tempt a fellow, and then to be severe with him when he forgets to put them back. however, i forgive everybody, especially aunt eliza, who really doesn't mean any harm. a pillow fight. we've been staying at the sea-shore for a week, and having a beautiful time. i love the sea-shore, only it would be a great deal nicer if there wasn't any sea; then you wouldn't have to go in bathing. i don't like to go in bathing, for you get so awfully wet, and the water chokes you. then there are ticks on the sea-shore in the grass. a tick is an insect that begins and bites you, and never stops till you're all ettup, and then you die, and the tick keeps on growing bigger all the time. there was once a boy and a tick got on him and bit him, and kept on biting for three or four days, and it ettup the boy till the tick was almost as big as the boy had been, and the boy wasn't any bigger than a marble, and he died, and his folks felt dreadfully about it. i never saw a tick, but i know that there are lots of them on the sea-shore, and that's reason enough not to like it. we stayed at a boarding-house while we were at the sea-shore. a boarding-house is a place where they give you pure country air and a few vegetables and a little meat, and i say give me a jail where they feed you if they do keep you shut up in the dark. there were a good many people in our boarding-house, and i slept up-stairs on the third story with three other boys, and there were two more boys on the second story, and that's the way all the trouble happened. there is nothing that is better fun than a pillow fight; that is, when you're home and have got your own pillows, and know they're not loaded, as mr. travers says. he was real good about it, too, and i sha'n't forget it, for 'most any man would have been awfully mad, but he just made as if he didn't care, only sue went on about it as if i was the worst boy that ever lived. you see, we four boys on the third story thought it would be fun to have a pillow fight with the two boys on the second story. we waited till everybody had gone to bed, and then we took our pillows and went out into the hall just as quiet as could be, only charley thompson he fell over a trunk in the hall and made a tremendous noise. one of the boarders opened his door and said who's there, but we didn't answer, and presently he said "i suppose it's that cat people ought to be ashamed of themselves to keep such animals," and shut his door again. after a little while charley was able to walk, though his legs were dreadfully rough where he'd scraped them against the trunk. so we crept down-stairs and went into the boys' room, and began to pound them with the pillows. they knew what was the matter, and jumped right up and got their pillows, and went at us so fierce that they drove us out into the hall. of course this made a good deal of noise, for we knocked over the wash-stand in the room, and upset a lot of lamps that were on the table in the hall, and every time i hit one of the boys he would say "ouch!" so loud that anybody that was awake could hear him. we fought all over the hall, and as we began to get excited we made so much noise that mr. travers got up and came out to make us keep quiet. it was pretty dark in the hall, and though i knew mr. travers, i thought he couldn't tell me from the other boys, and i thought i would just give him one good whack on the head, and then we'd all run up-stairs. he wouldn't know who hit him, and, besides, who ever heard of a fellow being hurt with a pillow? so i stood close up by the wall till he came near me, and then i gave him a splendid bang over the head. it sounded as if you had hit a fellow with a club, and mr. travers dropped to the floor with an awful crash, and never spoke a word. [illustration: i never was so frightened in my life.] i never was so frightened in my life, for i thought mr. travers was killed. i called murder help fire, and every body ran out of their rooms, and fell over trunks, and there was the most awful time you ever dreamed of. at last somebody got a lamp, and somebody else got some water and picked mr. travers up and carried him into his room, and then he came to and said, "where am i susan what is the matter o now i know." he was all right, only he had a big bump on one side of his head, and he said that it was all an accident, and that he wouldn't have sue scold me, and that it served him right for not remembering that boarding-house pillows are apt to be loaded. the next morning he made me bring him my pillow, and then he found out how it came to hurt him. all the chicken bones, and the gravel-stones, and the chunks of wood that were in the pillow had got down into one end of it while we were having the fight, and when i hit mr. travers they happened to strike him on his head where it was thin, and knocked him senseless. nobody can tell how glad i am that he wasn't killed, and it's a warning to me never to have pillow fights except with pillows that i know are not loaded with chicken bones and things. i forgot to say that after that night my mother and all the boys' mothers took all the pillows away from us, for they said they were too dangerous to be left where boys could get at them. sue's wedding. sue ought to have been married a long while ago. that's what everybody says who knows her. she has been engaged to mr. travers for three years, and has had to refuse lots of offers to go to the circus with other young men. i have wanted her to get married, so that i could go and live with her and mr. travers. when i think that if it hadn't been for a mistake i made she would have been married yesterday, i find it dreadfully hard to be resigned. but we ought always to be resigned to everything when we can't help it. before i go any further i must tell about my printing-press. it belonged to tom mcginnis, but he got tired of it and sold it to me real cheap. he was going to write to the young people's post-office box and offer to exchange it for a bicycle, a st. bernard dog, and twelve good books, but he finally let me have it for a dollar and a half. it prints beautifully, and i have printed cards for ever so many people, and made three dollars and seventy cents already. i thought it would be nice to be able to print circus bills in case tom and i should ever have another circus, so i sent to the city and bought some type mornaninch high, and some beautiful yellow paper. last week it was finally agreed that sue and mr. travers should be married without waiting any longer. you should have seen what a state of mind she and mother were in. they did nothing but buy new clothes, and sew, and talk about the wedding all day long. sue was determined to be married in church, and to have six bridesmaids and six bridegrooms, and flowers and music and things till you couldn't rest. the only thing that troubled her was making up her mind who to invite. mother wanted her to invite mr. and mrs. mcfadden and the seven mcfadden girls, but sue said they had insulted her, and she couldn't bear the idea of asking the mcfadden tribe. everybody agreed that old mr. wilkinson, who once came to a party at our house with one boot and one slipper, couldn't be invited; but it was decided that every one else that was on good terms with our family should have an invitation. sue counted up all the people she meant to invite, and there was nearly three hundred of them. you would hardly believe it, but she told me that i must carry around all the invitations and deliver them myself. of course i couldn't do this without neglecting my studies and losing time, which is always precious, so i thought of a plan which would save sue the trouble of directing three hundred invitations and save me from wasting time in delivering them. i got to work with my printing-press, and printed a dozen splendid big bills about the wedding. when they were printed i cut a lot of small pictures of animals and ladies riding on horses out of some old circus bills and pasted them on the wedding bills. they were perfectly gorgeous, and you could see them four or five rods off. when they were all done i made some paste in a tin pail, and went out after dark and pasted them in good places all over the village. i put one on mr. wilkinson's front-door, and one on the fence opposite the mcfaddens' house, so they would be sure to see it. [illustration: she gave an awful shriek and fainted away.] the next afternoon father came into the house looking very stern, and carrying one of the wedding bills in his hand. he handed it to sue and said, "susan, what does this mean? these bills are pasted all over the village, and there are crowds of people reading them." sue read the bill, and then she gave an awful shriek, and fainted away, and i hurried down to the post-office to see if the mail had come in. this is what was on the wedding bills, and i am sure it was spelled all right: miss susan brown announces that she will marry mr. james travers at the church next thursday at half past seven, sharp. all the friends of the family with the exception of the mcfadden tribe and old mr. wilkinson are invited. come early and bring lots of flowers. now what was there to find fault with in that? it was printed beautifully, and every word was spelled right, with the exception of the name of the church, and i didn't put that in because i wasn't quite sure how to spell it. the bill saved sue all the trouble of sending out invitations, and it said everything that anybody could want to know about the wedding. any other girl but sue would have been pleased, and would have thanked me for all my trouble, but she was as angry as if i had done something real bad. mr. travers was almost as angry as sue, and it was the first time he was ever angry with me. i am afraid now that he won't let me ever come and live with him. he hasn't said a word about my coming since the wedding bills were put up. as for the wedding, it has been put off, and sue says she will go to new york to be married, for she would perfectly die if she were to have a wedding at home after that boy's dreadful conduct. what is worse, i am to be sent away to boarding-school, and all because i made a mistake in printing the wedding bills without first asking sue how she would like to have them printed. our new dog. i've had another dog. that makes three dogs that i've had, and i haven't been allowed to keep any of them. grown-up folks don't seem to care how much a boy wants society. perhaps if they were better acquainted with dogs they'd understand boys better than they do. about a month ago there were lots of burglars in our town, and father said he believed he'd have to get a dog. mr. withers told father he'd get a dog for him, and the next day he brought the most beautiful siberian blood-hound you ever saw. the first night we had him we chained him up in the yard, and the neighbors threw things at him all night. nobody in our house got a wink of sleep, for the dog never stopped barking except just long enough to yell when something hit him. there was mornascuttleful of big lumps of coal in the yard in the morning, besides seven old boots, two chunks of wood, and a bushel of broken crockery. father said that the house was the proper place for the dog at night; so the next night we left him in the front hall. he didn't bark any all night, but he got tired of staying in the front hall, and wandered all over the house. i suppose he felt lonesome, for he came into my room, and got on to the bed, and nearly suffocated me. i woke up dreaming that i was in a melon patch, and had to eat three hundred green watermelons or be sent to jail, and it was a great comfort when i woke up and found it was only the dog. he knocked the water-pitcher over with his tail in the morning, and then thought he saw a cat under my bed, and made such an awful noise that father came up, and told me i ought to be ashamed to disturb the whole family so early in the morning. after that the dog was locked up in the kitchen at night, and father had to come down early and let him out, because the cook didn't dare to go into the kitchen. we let him run loose in the yard in the daytime, until he had an accident with mr. martin. we'd all been out to take tea and spend the evening with the wilkinsons, and when we got home about nine o'clock, there was mr. martin standing on the piazza, with the dog holding on to his cork-leg. mr. martin had come to the house to make a call at about seven o'clock, and as soon as he stepped on the piazza the dog caught him by the leg without saying a word. every once in a while the dog would let go just long enough to spit out a few pieces of cork and take a fresh hold, but mr. martin didn't dare to stir for fear he would take hold of the other leg, which of course would have hurt more than the cork one. mr. martin was a good deal tired and discouraged, and couldn't be made to understand that the dog thought he was a burglar, and tried to do his duty, as we should all try to do. the way i came to lose the dog was this: aunt eliza came to see us last week, and brought her little boy harry, who once went bee-hunting with me. harry, as i told you, is six years old, and he isn't so bad as he might be considering his age. the second day after they came, harry and i were in tom mcginnis's yard, when tom said he knew where there was a woodchuck down in the pasture, and suppose we go and hunt him. so i told harry to go home and get the dog, and bring him down to the pasture where tom said the woodchuck lived. i told him to untie the dog--for we had kept him tied up since his accident with mr. martin--and to keep tight hold of the rope, so that the dog couldn't get away from him. harry said he'd tie the rope around his waist, and then the dog couldn't possibly pull it away from him, and tom and i both said it was a good plan. [illustration: how that dog did pull!] well, we waited for that boy and the dog till six o'clock, and they never came. when i got home everybody wanted to know what had become of harry. he was gone and the dog was gone, and nobody knew where they were, and aunt eliza was crying, and said she knew that horrid dog had eaten her boy up. father and i and mr. travers had to go and hunt for harry. we hunted all over the town, and at last a man told us that he had seen a boy and a dog going on a run across deacon smith's corn-field. so we went through the corn-field and found their track, for they had broken down the corn just as if a wagon had driven through it. when we came to the fence on the other side of the field we found harry on one side of the fence and the dog on the other. harry had tied the dog's rope round his waist, and couldn't untie it again, and the dog had run away with him. when they came to the fence the dog had squeezed through a hole that was too small for harry, and wouldn't come back again. so they were both caught in a trap. how that dog did pull! harry was almost cut in two, for the dog kept pulling at the rope all the time with all his might. when we got home aunt eliza said that either she or that brute must leave, and father gave the dog away to the butcher. he was the most elegant dog i ever had, and i don't suppose i shall ever have another. lightning. mr. franklin was one of the greatest men that ever lived. he could carry a loaf of bread in each hand and eat another, all at the same time, and he could invent anything that anybody wanted, without hurting himself or cutting his fingers. his greatest invention was lightning, and he invented it with a kite. he made a kite with sticks made out of telegraph wire, and sent it up in a thunder-storm till it reached where the lightning is. the lightning ran down the string, and franklin collected it in a bottle, and sold it for ever so much money. so he got very rich after a while, and could buy the most beautiful and expensive kites that any fellow ever had. i read about mr. franklin in a book that father gave me. he said i was reading too many stories, and just you take this book and read it through carefully and i hope it will do you some good anyway it will keep you out of mischief. i thought that it would please father if i should get some lightning just as franklin did. i told tom mcginnis about it, and he said he would help if i would give him half of all i made by selling the lightning. i wouldn't do this, of course, but finally tom said he'd help me anyhow, and trust me to pay him a fair price; so we went to work. we made a tremendously big kite, and the first time there came a thunder-storm we put it up; but the paper got wet, and it came down before it got up to the lightning. so we made another, and covered it with white cloth that used to be one of mrs. mcginnis's sheets, only tom said he knew she didn't want it any more. we sent up this kite the next time there was a thunder-storm, and tied the string to the second-story window where the blinds hook on, and let the end of the string hang down into a bottle. it only thundered once or twice, but the lightning ran down the string pretty fast, and filled the bottle half full. it looked like water, only it was a little green, and when it stopped running into the bottle we took the lightning down-stairs to try it. i gave a little of it to the cat to drink, but it didn't hurt her a bit, and she just purred. at last tom said he didn't believe it would hurt anything; so he tasted some of it, but it didn't hurt him at all. the trouble was that the lightning was too weak to do any harm. the thunder-shower had been such a little one that it didn't have any strong lightning in it; so we threw away what was in the bottle, and agreed to try to get some good strong lightning whenever we could get a chance. it didn't rain for a long time after that, and i nearly forgot all about franklin and lightning, until one day i heard mr. travers read in the newspaper about a man who was found lying dead on the road with a bottle of jersey lightning, and that, of course, explains what was the matter with him my dear susan. i understood more about it than susan did, for she does not know anything about franklin being a girl, though i will admit it isn't her fault. you see, the cork must have come out of the man's bottle, and the lightning had leaked out and burned him to death. the very next day we had a tremendous thunder-shower, and i told tom that now was the time to get some lightning that would be stronger than anything they could make in new jersey. so we got the kite up, and got ourselves soaked through with water. we tied it to the window-ledge just as we did the first time, and put the end of the string in a tin pail, so that we could collect more lightning than one bottle would hold. it was so cold standing by the window in our wet clothes that we thought we'd go to my room and change them. [illustration: we hurried into the room.] all at once there was the most awful flash of lightning and the most tremendous clap of thunder that was ever heard. father and mother and sue were down-stairs, and they rushed up-stairs crying the darling boy is killed. that meant me. but i wasn't killed, neither was tom, and we hurried into the room where we were collecting lightning to see what was the matter. there we found the tin pail knocked into splinters and the lightning spilled all over the floor. it had set fire to the carpet, and burned a hole right through the floor into the kitchen, and pretty much broke up the whole kitchen stove. father cut the kite-string and let the kite go, and told me that it was as much as my life was worth to send up a kite in a thunder-storm. you see, so much lightning will come down the string that it will kill anybody that stands near it. i know this is true, because father says so, but i'd like to know how franklin managed. i forgot to say that father wasn't a bit pleased. my camera. i had a birthday last week. when i woke up in the morning i found right by the side of my bed a mahogany box, with a round hole on one side of it and a ground-glass door on the other side. i thought it was a new kind of rat-trap; and so i got out of bed and got a piece of cheese, and set the trap in the garret, which is about half full of rats. but it turned out that the box wasn't a rat-trap. mr. travers gave it to me, and when he came to dinner he explained that it was a camera for taking photographs, and that it would improve my mind tremendously if i would learn to use it. i soon found out that there isn't anything much better than a camera, except, of course, a big dog, which i can't have, because mother says a dog tracks dirt all over the house, and father says a dog is dangerous, and sue says a dog jumps all over you and tears your dresses a great good-for-nothing ugly beast. it's very hard to be kept apart from dogs; but our parents always know what is best for us, though we may not see it at the time; and i don't believe father really knows how it feels when your trousers are thin and you haven't any boots on, so it stings your legs every time. but i was going to write about the camera. you take photographs with the camera--people and things. there's a lens on one end of it, and when you point it at anything, you see a picture of it upside down on the little glass door at the back of the camera. then you put a dry plate, which is a piece of glass with chemicals on it, in the camera, and then you take it out and put it in some more chemicals, the right name of which is a developer, and then you see a picture on the dry plate, only it is right side up, and not like the one on the ground-glass door. it's the best fun in the world taking pictures; and i can't see that it improves your mind a bit--at least not enough to worry you. you have to practise a great deal before you can take a picture, and everybody who knows anything about it tells you to do something different. there are five men in our town who take photographs, and each one tells me to use a different kind of dry plate and a different kind of developer, and that all the other men may mean well, and they hope they do, but people ought not to tell a boy to use bad plates and poor developers; and don't you pay any attention to them, jimmy, but do as i tell you. i've got so now that i make beautiful pictures. i took a photograph of sue the other day, and another of old deacon brewster, and you can tell which is which just as easy as anything, if you look at them in the right way, and remember that deacon brewster, being a man, is smoking a pipe, and that, of course, a picture of sue wouldn't have a pipe in it. sue don't like to have me take pictures, but that's because she is a girl, and girls haven't the kind of minds that can understand art. mr. mcginnis--tom's father--don't like my camera either; but that's because he is near-sighted, and thought it was a gun when i pointed it at him, and he yelled, "don't shoot, for mercy's sake!" and went out of our front yard and over the fence in lessenasecond. when he found out what it was he said he never dreamed of being frightened, but had business down-town, and he didn't think boys ought to be trusted with such things, anyway. i made a great discovery last week. you know i said that when you look through the camera at anything you see it upside down on the ground glass. this doesn't look right, and unless you stand on your head when you take a photograph, which is very hard work, you can't help feeling that the picture is all wrong. i was going to take a photograph of a big engraving that belongs to father, when i thought of turning it upside down. this made it look all right on the ground glass. this is my discovery; and if men who take photographs could only get the people they photograph to stand on their heads, they would get beautiful pictures. mr. travers says that i ought to get a patent for this discovery, but so far it has only got me into trouble. saturday afternoon everybody was out of the house except me and the baby and the nurse, and she was down in the kitchen, and the baby was asleep. so i thought i would take a picture of the baby. of course it wouldn't sit still for me; so i thought of the way the indians strap their babies to a flat board, which keeps them from getting round-shouldered, and is very convenient besides. i got a nice flat piece of board and tied the baby to it, and put him on a table, and leaned him up against the wall. then i remembered my discovery, and just stood the baby on his head so as to get a good picture of him. [illustration: i did get a beautiful picture.] i did get a beautiful picture. at least i am sure it would have been if i hadn't been interrupted while i was developing it. i forgot to put the baby right side up, and in about ten minutes mother came in and found it, and then she came up into my room and interrupted me. father came home a little later and interrupted me some more. so the picture was spoiled, and so was father's new rattan. of course i deserved it for forgetting the baby; but it didn't hurt it any to stand on its head a little while, for babies haven't any brains like boys and grown-up people, and, besides, it's the solemn truth that i meant to turn the baby right side up, only i forgot it. freckles. after the time i tried to photograph the baby, my camera was taken away from me and locked up for ever so long. sue said i wasn't to be trusted with it and it would go off some day when you think it isn't loaded and hurt somebody worse than you hurt the baby you good-for-nothing little nuisance. father kept the camera locked up for about a month, and said when i see some real reformation in you james you shall have it back again. but i shall never have it back again now, and if i did, it wouldn't be of any use, for i'm never to be allowed to have any more chemicals. father is going to give the camera to the missionaries, so that they can photograph heathen and things, and all the chemicals i had have been thrown away, just because i made a mistake in using them. i don't say it didn't serve me right, but i can't help wishing that father would change his mind. i have never said much about my other sister, lizzie, because she is nothing but a girl. she is twelve years old, and of course she plays with dolls, and doesn't know enough to play base-ball or do anything really useful. she scarcely ever gets me into scrapes, though, and that's where sue might follow her example. however, it was lizzie who got me into the scrape about my chemicals, though she didn't mean to, poor girl. one night mr. travers came to tea, and everybody was talking about freckles. mr. travers said that they were real fashionable, and that all the ladies were trying to get them. i am sure i don't see why. i've mornamillion freckles, and i'd be glad to let anybody have them who would agree to take them away. sue said she thought freckles were perfectly lovely, and it's a good thing she thinks so, for she has about as many as she can use; and lizzie said she'd give anything if she only had a few nice freckles on her cheeks. mother asked what made freckles, and mr. travers said the sun made them just as it makes photographs. "jimmy will understand it," said mr. travers. "he knows how the sun makes a picture when it shines on a photograph plate, and all his freckles were made just in the same way. without the sun there wouldn't be any freckles." this sounded reasonable, but then mr. travers forgot all about chemicals. as i said, the last time i wrote, chemicals is something in a bottle like medicine, and you have to put it on a photograph plate so as to make the picture that the sun has made show itself. now if chemicals will do this with a photograph plate, it ought to do it with a girl's cheek. you take a girl and let the sun shine on her cheek, and put chemicals on her, and it ought to bring out splendid freckles. i'm very fond of lizzie, though she is a girl, because she minds her own business, and don't meddle with my things and get me into scrapes. i'd have given her all my freckles if i could, as soon as i knew she wanted them, and as soon as mr. travers said that freckles were made just like photographs, i made up my mind i would make some for her. so i told her she should have the best freckles in town if she'd come up to my room the next morning, and let me expose her to the sun and then put chemicals on her. lizzie has confidence in me, which is one of her best qualities, and shows that she is a good girl. she was so pleased when i promised to make freckles for her; and as soon as the sun got up high enough to shine into my window she came up to my room all ready to be freckled. i exposed her to the sun for six seconds. i only exposed my photograph plates three seconds, but i thought that lizzie might not be quite as sensitive, and so i exposed her longer. then i took her into the dark closet where i kept the chemicals, and poured chemicals on her cheeks. i made her hold her handkerchief on her face so that the chemicals couldn't get into her eyes and run down her neck, for she wanted freckles only on her cheeks. i watched her very carefully, but the freckles didn't come out. i put more chemicals on her, and rubbed it in with a cloth; but it was no use, the freckles wouldn't come. i don't know what the reason was. perhaps i hadn't exposed her long enough, or perhaps the chemicals was weak. anyway, not a single freckle could i make. [illustration: mother and sue made a dreadful fuss.] so after a while i gave it up, and told her it was no use, and she could go and wash her face. she cried a little because she was disappointed, but she cried more afterwards. you see, the chemicals made her cheek almost black, and she couldn't wash it off. mother and sue made a dreadful fuss about it, and sent for the doctor, who said he thought it would wear off in a year or so, and wouldn't kill the child or do her very much harm. this is the reason why they took my chemicals away, and promised to give my camera to the missionaries. all i meant was to please lizzie, and i never knew the chemicals would turn her black. but it isn't the first time i have tried to be kind and have been made to suffer for it. santa claus. the other day i was at tom mcginnis's house, and he had some company. he was a big boy, and something like a cousin of tom's. would you believe it, that fellow said there wasn't any santa claus? now that boy distinctly did tell--but i won't mention it. we should never reveal the wickedness of other people, and ought always to be thankful that we are worse than anybody else. otherwise we should be like the pharisee, and he was very bad. i knew for certain that it was a fib tom mcginnis's cousin told. but all the same, the more i thought about it the more i got worried. if there is a santa claus--and of course there is--how could he get up on the top of the house, so he could come down the chimney, unless he carried a big ladder with him; and if he did this, how could he carry presents enough to fill mornahundred stockings? and then how could he help getting the things all over soot from the chimney, and how does he manage when the chimney is all full of smoke and fire, as it always is at christmas! but then, as the preacher says, he may be supernatural--i had to look that word up in the dictionary. the story tom mcginnis's cousin told kept on worrying me, and finally i began to think how perfectly awful it would be if there was any truth in it. how the children would feel! there's going to be no end of children at our house this christmas, and aunt eliza and her two small boys are here already. i heard mother and aunt eliza talking about christmas the other day, and they agreed that all the children should sleep on cot bedsteads in the back parlor, so that they could open their stockings together, and mother said, "you know, eliza, there's a big fireplace in that room, and the children can hang their stockings around the chimney." now i know i did wrong, but it was only because i did not want the children to be disappointed. we should always do to others and so on, and i know i should have been grateful if anybody had tried to get up a santa claus for me in case of the real one being out of repair. neither do i blame mother, though if she hadn't spoken about the fireplace in the way she did, it would never have happened. but i do think that they ought to have made a little allowance for me, since i was only trying to help make the christmas business successful. it all happened yesterday. tom mcginnis had come to see me, and all the folks had gone out to ride except aunt eliza's little boy harry. we were talking about christmas, and i was telling tom how all the children were to sleep in the back parlor, and how there was a chimney there that was just the thing for santa claus. we went and looked at the chimney, and then i said to tom what fun it would be to dress up and come down the chimney and pretend to be santa claus, and how it would amuse the children, and how pleased the grown-up folks would be, for they are always wanting us to amuse them. tom agreed with me that it would be splendid fun, and said we ought to practise coming down the chimney, so that we could do it easily on christmas-eve. he said he thought i ought to do it, because it was our house; but i said no, he was a visitor, and it would be mean and selfish in me to deprive him of any pleasure. but tom wouldn't do it. he said that he wasn't feeling very well, and that he didn't like to take liberties with our chimney, and, besides, he was afraid that he was so big that he wouldn't fit the chimney. then we thought of harry, and agreed that he was just the right size. of course harry said he'd do it when we asked him, for he isn't afraid of anything, and is so proud to be allowed to play with tom and me that he would do anything we asked him to do. well, harry took off his coat and shoes, and we all went up to the roof, and tom and i boosted harry till he got on the top of the chimney and put his legs in it and slid down. he went down like a flash, for he didn't know enough to brace himself the way the chimney-sweeps do. tom and i we hurried down to the back parlor to meet him; but he had not arrived yet, though the fireplace was full of ashes and soot. we supposed he had stopped on the way to rest; but after a while we thought we heard a noise, like somebody calling, that was a great way off. we went up on the roof, thinking harry might have climbed back up the chimney, but he wasn't there. when we got on the top of the chimney we could hear him plain enough. he was crying and yelling for help, for he was stuck about half-way down the chimney, and couldn't get either up or down. we talked it over for some time, and decided that the best thing to do was to get a rope and let it down to him, and pull him out. so i got the clothes-line and let it down, but harry's arms were jammed close to his sides, so he couldn't get hold of it. tom said we ought to make a slippernoose, catch it over harry's head, and pull him out that way, but i knew that harry wasn't very strong, and i was afraid if we did that he might come apart. then i proposed that we should get a long pole and push harry down the rest of the chimney, but after hunting all over the yard we couldn't find a pole that was long enough, so we had to give that plan up. all this time harry was crying in the most discontented way, although we were doing all we could for him. that's the way with little boys. they never have any gratitude, and are always discontented. as we couldn't poke harry down, tom said let's try to poke him up. so we told harry to be patient and considerate, and we went down-stairs again, and took the longest pole we could find and pushed it up the chimney. bushels of soot came down, and flew over everything, but we couldn't reach harry with the pole. by this time we began to feel discouraged. we were awfully sorry for harry, because, if we couldn't get him out before the folks came home, tom and i would be in a dreadful scrape. then i thought that if we were to build a little fire the draught might draw harry out. tom thought it was an excellent plan. so i started a fire, but it didn't loosen harry a bit, and when we went on the roof to meet him we heard him crying louder than ever, and saying that something was on fire in the chimney and was choking him. i knew what to do, though tom didn't, and, to tell the truth, he was terribly frightened. we ran down and got two pails of water, and poured them down the chimney. that put the fire out, but you would hardly believe that harry was more unreasonable than ever, and said we were trying to drown him. there is no comfort in wearing yourself out in trying to please little boys. you can't satisfy them, no matter how much trouble you take, and for my part i am tired of trying to please harry, and shall let him amuse himself the rest of the time he is at our house. [illustration: they got harry out all safe.] we had tried every plan we could think of to get harry out of the chimney, but none of them succeeded. tom said that if we were to pour a whole lot of oil down the chimney it would make it so slippery that harry would slide right down into the back parlor, but i wouldn't do it, because i knew the oil would spoil harry's clothes, and that would make aunt eliza angry. all of a sudden i heard a carriage stop at our gate, and there were the grown folks, who had come home earlier than i had supposed they would. tom said that he thought he would go home before his own folks began to get uneasy about him, so he went out of the back gate, and left me to explain things. they had to send for some men to come and cut a hole through the wall. but they got harry out all safe; and after they found that he wasn't a bit hurt, instead of thanking me for all tom and i had done for him, they seemed to think that i deserved the worst punishment i ever had, and i got it. i shall never make another attempt to amuse children on christmas-eve. the end [=transcriber's note:= this book was written in a time in which we didn't know what we know now. for example, we now know foxglove to be very poisonous and would not suggest children use the blossoms for fairy caps. please use caution if attempting any of these crafts. and don't play with foxglove. as to this text version, italic text is surrounded by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=.] mother nature's toy-shop by lina beard and adelia b. beard with many illustrations by the authors charles scribner's sons new york chicago boston copyright, , by charles scribner's sons special notice all the material in this book, both text and cuts, is original with the authors and invented by them; and warning is hereby given that the unauthorized printing of any portion of the text and the reproduction of any of the illustrations or diagrams are expressly forbidden. presentation mother nature is every bit as fond of the little folks in her human family as of the grown-ups, and while she prepares untold joys for lovers of the outdoors among men and women and larger boys and girls, she never forgets the little ones. for their benefit she keeps an open toy-shop full of marvellous playthings, all free to any child who wants them, and instead of the children paying her for what they take she pays them for coming to her by giving them rosier cheeks, brighter eyes, and stronger bodies. she puts more glee into their laughter and greater happiness into their trustful little hearts. as in the large department stores in big cities, the goods in mother nature's shop are changed for each season of the year; so the little shoppers have constant variety and hail every new season with fresh delight. this book is written to call attention to the beautiful and wonderful things to be found in mother nature's toy-shop and to tell what to do with them, for one must know how to use the amusing material that is furnished. after really getting into this most enchanting of all toy-shops with eyes open to see its wonders, we found that the difficulty to be met was not how to write about them, but how to stop writing. the display was so varied and so inviting, it seemed that we must tell the children about everything we saw, but if we had gone on seeing more and telling more there is no saying what size this book would have been. lina beard, adelia belle beard. contents part i--wild flowers chapter page i. daisies ii. jack-in-the-pulpit iii. red and white clovers iv. clover designs v. other wild-flower designs vi. pussy-willows vii. arrangement of flowers part ii--grasses viii. fairy-trees made of grasses ix. a house made of grass x. grass dress and grass head-dress part iii--green leaves xi. oak-leaves xii. grape-leaf drinking-cup xiii. green-leaf designs part iv--cultivated flowers xiv. phlox xv. cultivated foxglove xvi. miss hollyhock's garden-party xvii. daffodils part v--seed-vessels xviii. seed-vessel playthings xix. buckeye horse and buckeye rider xx. burdock-burrs xxi. things to make of english-walnut shells part vi--vegetables xxii. things you can make of lima beans xxiii. sweet-potato alligator and what to make of a radish xxiv. green-pea toys and a green-pea design xxv. corn-husks and corn-cobs part vii--fruit xxvi. the funny orange-head xxvii. apples and apple fun mother nature's toy-shop _part i_ wild flowers chapter i daisies what you can do with them wild flowers, like children, are up early. _they_ don't want to lie abed after their long winter's sleep; they want to be awake and see what is going on in the world. while you think it is still winter there is a stirring going on under the blankets of brown earth, and sometimes before the snow is off the ground you may find the little things working up through the stiff soil and opening their eyes to the gentle spring sunshine. it is remarkable the way the soft, tender sprouts force their way through hard ground that we would have to take a knife or trowel to dig into. but they do it. not all at once with a great, blustering rush, but gently, steadily, and quietly they push and keep on pushing until their heads are above ground; then they begin to grow in good earnest, and pretty soon they laugh right out into blossom. the pleasure these earliest wild flowers give us is in going out to look for them and in gathering handfuls to carry home and put into little glass bowls to be "oh'd" over and wondered at, to be admired and loved because they are lovely, and because they bring some of the sweet outdoors of spring into the furnace-heated house. they are too delicate and fragile, these anemones, hepaticas, and bloodroots, to be handled and played with, but later come the stronger, sturdier flowers and with many of these you can do all sorts of entertaining things. you don't have to look very far for them either. they are in the fields, by the roadsides, and even along the edges of the streets of a village or small town. you won't find them in the city. to begin with, there are the daisies. how white the fields are with them! if they are fine, large daisies on tall, strong stems they will reach up to your waist--that is, if you are a little girl. if you are bigger they will come well above your knees. there are a number of things that you can do with them. first, you can make a really beautiful daisy crown for a may queen, or to wear yourself just for the fun of it. [illustration: fig. - begin the wreath in this way.] [illustration: fig. - turn the stem of b under the stem of a.] gather a whole lot of daisies with rather long stems. they will stay fresh longer if you put them into a pail of cool water and let them drink a little before using them; and if they have wilted while you carried them, the water will bring them up again as fresh as--why, as fresh as a daisy to be sure. this is the way to make the crown. it is a new way and a good way. [illustration: fig. - bring b around and in front of it's own upright.] take one daisy in your left hand and hold it, not upright but in what is called a horizontal position like the one marked a in fig. , then with your right hand hold another daisy upright and place its stem in front of and across the stem of the first, as you see it in fig. . [illustration: fig. - let the stem of b rest on the stem of a.] this second daisy we will call b. now turn the stem of b under the stem of a and up at the back as it is in fig. . bring this same stem, b, around and in front of its own upright part like fig. . turn it all the way around the upright part and let the stem of b rest on top of the stem of a. fig. shows this, but in the drawing the stems are separated a little so that you may see each one plainly. it is something like weaving, you see. and it is weaving of a sort. [illustration: fig. - weave another daisy, c, on the first two stems.] across the stems of the daisies a and b, two stems this time, place the stem of another daisy that we will call c, and weave it on the first two stems exactly as you wove b onto a (fig. ). the stem of the fourth daisy will have to cross three stems, a, b, and c. the fifth daisy-stem will cross four stems, but after that the end of the daisy-stem a will probably have been passed and you will be weaving on the others. it depends upon the length of the stems how many are woven over; sometimes there may be five. it is not well to have more than that number. you can cut a stem off when it seems to be going too far around the crown. [illustration: fig. - a new way to make a daisy wreath.] place the daisies close enough together to have their petals touch, or even crowd a trifle, because when the crown is curved and the ends brought together the flowers will separate and leave wider spaces. when you have woven enough daisies to make your crown the proper size to fit your head, cut the last stems off about two inches from the last flower and, with a strong blade of grass or piece of string, tie them to the stem of the daisy a, just back of the flower. fig. shows what the daisy crown looks like when finished. chapter ii jack-in-the-pulpit one of the earliest wild flowers to show its head above ground is jack-in-the-pulpit. it is an odd plant and what we call the flower is not the blossom at all, but a protecting leaf called a spathe which surrounds the tiny flowers growing on the club-shaped spike (or spadix) standing upright inside. that is a good thing to know and remember, but what concerns us now is that there is a pulpit with its curved sounding-board--or perhaps it is a striped awning--overhead, and that in the pulpit is jack. he is a cheerful little preacher and his pulpit is somewhat gayer than we usually see, but no one ever told jack that to be good he must be solemn and that to preach he must have a pulpit rich and sombre. the good god who made him gave him his pretty, striped pulpit with its striped awning to shelter it, and jack goes on preaching his cheerful sermons from this as long as he lives. hear what some one has said of him: "jack-in-the-pulpit preaches to-day, under the green trees, just over the way; squirrel and song-sparrow high on their perch, hear the sweet lily-bells ringing to church. "come, hear what his reverence rises to say, in his low, painted pulpit, this calm sabbath day. fair is the canopy over him seen pencilled by nature's hand, black, brown, and green." some people who love the woods and the wild flowers can understand jack's wild-wood language. they will tell you that over and over again he is saying: "come into the clean, shady woods and learn to love all the wonderful living, growing things to be found here. come into the green woods and hear what we can tell you of beauty and love and kindness; of courage and perseverance and strength, for plants must have courage and perseverance as well as strength in order to live." all the time these plants are working in the ground and above it to make their flowers perfect and their seeds fruitful. sometimes it is difficult work, too, if the soil does not give them enough food, or a dry summer chokes them with thirst. sometimes they must struggle hard to gain a footing between the rocks where they were told to grow, or to keep from being crowded out by stronger, coarser plants that are called weeds. but they keep on trying to do their part and to do it well; they work and love, and their children, the blossoms, laugh, laugh, laugh with the happiness of it all. [illustration: fig. - cut a hole at the back of the pulpit.] now if jack seems to you to stand too still in his pulpit while he preaches all this, why you can make him move around. he can turn first to one side then to the other, and he can lean forward over the front with extended arms as some preachers do when they are very much in earnest. for this you will first have to cut a hole at the back of the pulpit near the bottom, as is shown in fig. , then, slipping your knife inside, cut jack loose from the flower and drop him out from the top by turning the pulpit upside down. [illustration: fig. - the spike.] cut off the lower, thin part of the spike to which the arrow points in fig. and, after puncturing a deep hole in the end, push in a very slender twig or grass-stem. fig. shows how this is done. for arms that will make jack seem more like a little man, push a short piece of grass-stem through the spike near the top where you see it in fig. . make a hole all the way through the spike with a pin so that the arms will slip in easily. [illustration: fig. - this is jack.] when you are ready for jack to preach put him in his pulpit, sliding the grass-stem through the hole at the back. while you hold the stem of the pulpit in one hand take the grass-stem in the other and, by moving it up and down, twisting it one way, then the other, and tipping it up, you can make him rise up tall and straight, then sink down; you can make him turn to the right and to the left and lean forward. that is being active enough in such a small pulpit, isn't it? chapter iii red and white clovers by the roadside, through the meadows, on the farm, at the cottage door, and in your own yard those dear, familiar little friends, the clover-blossoms, come to greet you. even in city parks you may find them, and always they are ready and glad to help you have a good time. gather a lot of these flowers and sit in the shade under a tree with your lap filled with them while i tell you how to make a clover wreath select some long-stemmed blossoms and leaves, bunch them and bind their stems together their full length with strong grass or string. wind the grass around and around the stems, tucking the ends securely in under the last wind. you may need several long blades of grass for binding one bunch. in the same way make a second bunch and fit the flowers up close against the first bunch of blossoms, with their stems lying along the side of the first stems. do not lap the flowers of one bunch over the flowers of another. fasten the second bunch in place by binding the stems to those of the first bunch; then make a third bunch and bind it on next to the second bunch. continue making these clover bunches and binding their stems to the stems of those already a part of the wreath until the strip is long enough to fit around your head. try it on and, if it is the proper length, join the two ends by binding the last stems to the stems of the first bunches. fig. shows the clover wreath complete. [illustration: fig. - wreath of freshly picked clover.] you should also have a clover bracelet to wear with the wreath. make this as you did the wreath but with much smaller bunches. keep binding the bunches together until the strip for the bracelet fits your arm (fig. ), then join the two ends, and slip the pretty thing on your wrist. of course, you will want clover earrings to match, and those two plump, full, fresh blossoms lying at the top of the others on your lap are exactly what you need. [illustration: fig. - clover bracelet.] [illustration: fig. - clover earring.] [illustration: fig. - clover blossom ring.] [illustration: fig. - clover blossom pendant on clover necklace.] take one of these clovers and fit it in tight between your cheek and the lobe of your ear (fig. ). be careful not to break the long stem, for you must bring it up snugly just back of your ear along the line where the ear joins your head, and when this is done, bend the end of the stem down gently over the top of your ear. the stem will hold your earring in place. make the other earring in the same way. the two clover-blossoms used for the earrings should be as much alike as possible both in size and shape. they should be matched carefully, as pearls and diamonds are matched in a pair of real earrings. now for a "solitaire" clover ring choose the finest clover for the jewel, and hold it against the back of your left forefinger while you wrap the stem once around the finger, loop it over the blossom and draw the loop tight. fasten the end by tucking it under and over, and again under the stem ring on your finger. this clover ring is really very effective, and can be made of any colored clover. fig. gives an idea of how it looks. a necklace of clover will complete your beautiful set of flower jewelry. make the necklace as you made the bracelet and fasten three pendant blossoms at the centre, allowing the middle clover to hang down a little below those on either side (fig. ). now you are ready, with the addition of a long, straight twig, at the top of which you have fastened a bouquet of clover, to play that you are queen of all the clover fairies, and that your clover-tipped twig is your magic wand. other things of clover the running, vinelike clovers are fine to use for climbing-roses on outdoor doll-houses. they can also be trained over the doll garden-frames and arches. chapter iv clover designs have you ever admired the pretty patterns on wallpaper of flowers and green leaves? have you ever embroidered dainty designs in colors on white linen, and do you love it all? if you do, you will like to make some designs yourself in a new way, and with real flowers and real leaves. you don't have to know how to draw or to paint in this designing, for the flowers are there ready for you to use, more exquisitely drawn and colored than the greatest artist could do them. your part is to group and arrange them on a sheet of paper so that they will form beautiful designs; designs that will not only delight you, but that may be copied in embroidery or in other ways. merely to place the flowers on the paper in some sort of a pattern is interesting, but the design won't last because the flowers won't stay in place. your sleeve may wipe them all off, or a puff of air blow them away, so a method has been invented especially for you that will keep them where you want them to stay, and that method is simply to _paste_ them there. you can make designs of almost any kind of flowers, the common pink-and-white clover that grows underfoot nearly everywhere makes a particularly pretty one. this is the long-stemmed, viny kind, and its name is alsike clover. fig. shows what the alsike clover looks like, and you will see that its leaves are rather pointed at the tip, and shaped more like the leaves of the large red clover than like the almost round ones of the little white clover. [illustration: fig. - the alsike clover. deep rose color. the way it grows.] [illustration: fig. - upright design of alsike clover.] the graceful, upright design (fig. ) was made of the alsike clover, the blossom of which was a deep-rose color, and the original design when finished looked like a piece of embroidery done in silks. it was so lovely i wish that it could be given in its natural colors here. [illustration: fig. - parts of upright clover design.] look at fig. carefully and see that while the sprays of clover at the right and left appear to be exactly alike, though turned in opposite directions, they are not really so, and the little differences help to make the design interesting. they keep it from being what we call monotonous. now look at d, e, and f, fig. . these are tracings of the sprays of clover before they were grouped together to form the design fig. . the spray on the left, marked d, is just as it grew and as it was used in the finished design; but f, on the right, had to have the little budded spray added at the place on the stem shown by the arrows to make it resemble and balance the other. this bud with its leaves was clipped from another clover-vine. [illustration: fig. - running design of clover.] the spray in the centre of the design was like e, fig. , and it was necessary to give it the extra leaves shown at its right because, without them, it was not symmetrical, which means evenly balanced, and it would not have looked well in the design. [illustration: fig. - parts of running design.] when all of the material was collected and ready to be put together, the central spray, e, was laid in the middle of a sheet of unruled, white paper with the lower end of the stem near the bottom edge, then the sprays d and f were placed on the right and left of the centre one and tried first in one position, then in another, until it was decided that they looked best arranged as in fig. . after that the extra leaves for the middle spray, and the bud and its leaves for the right-hand spray, were put in place. [illustration: fig. - large red clover design.] it all seemed charmingly satisfactory, so the design was taken apart that it might be fastened permanently in place. the middle spray had to be adjusted first, and a drop of good library paste was put on the under-side of the clover-blossom, a drop on the under part of each leaf, and on the under part of the stem at the lower end. then the spray was laid in the middle of the paper just where it was at first, and pressed down to make it stick. paste was put on the under part of each of the three leaves to be added and on the under part of their stem at the end, and they were pasted down to look as if growing on the main stem, opposite the other leaves. [illustration: fig. - design of leaves and buds of red clover.] [illustration: fig. - parts of leaf and bud design.] next the left-hand spray was pasted in place in the same way, then the right-hand spray, to which was given its bud that curves in to almost touch the bud on the other spray. paste was also put half-way down on the under part of the long stems of each of the side sprays. this completed the clover design and it was exceedingly pretty, but after it had been sufficiently admired it was placed between papers under several heavy books to press, that it might be more durable. it was after it had been pressed that it looked like a piece of silk embroidery. pasted designs can be made without pressing; but while they are more beautiful they will not last as long as the others. you can enjoy your fresh designs for a while and then press them. do not make the mistake of covering the entire under part of a flower or leaf with paste as if it were made of paper; a drop is all that is needed, more will spoil it. flowers do not always grow exactly as you want them for your designs, but a too straight stem can be coaxed to curve by drawing it between your fingers, and leaves and sprays can be cut away or added as has been shown. all this changing about only makes it more fun to work out the design. fig. is a running design of clovers which can be used for a border. the little arrows on fig. show where the different parts are joined. the large red clover was used for the design fig. and the leaves and buds of the red clover for fig. . fig. shows how the parts of fig. are put together. these drawings are all original from designs actually made of fresh clover-blossoms and their foliage. chapter v other wild-flower designs daisy fleabane design isn't the design fig. what grown-ups call japanesque? doesn't it look as if it had been copied from a printed pattern on a piece of japanese cotton cloth? [illustration: fig. - daisy fleabane design.] well, it was not. it is from a design made especially for you of real wild flowers, freshly gathered. the name of the flower is the daisy fleabane which grows in almost all open grassy fields where daisies and buttercups and clovers are found. the illustration fig. shows how the daisy fleabane looks when first gathered. sometimes the blossom is entirely white, sometimes it is tinged with purple, and it has a bright-yellow centre. its petals are as fine as a fringe, like those of the asters that blossom in the fall. in making the design the full-blown flowers were pressed down flat, which makes them round like a sunflower, while the buds and partly open flowers were left as they naturally grew. the composition, or arrangement, of this design is like that used for the upright clover design (fig. ), that is, it has two tall side sprays and a shorter middle spray; but see how very different the two designs are in appearance. the clover is all graceful curves, the daisy fleabane is stiff and formal with straight lines and angles. if you use the white flower, make the design on a sheet of tinted paper, else the flower will not show. all white flowers should have tinted paper for a background. wild mustard design the small, yellow blossoms of the wild mustard and its compound leaves make very dainty designs. fig. is one of them. [illustration: fig. - wild mustard design.] [illustration: fig. - wild mustard.] [illustration: fig. - the daisy fleabane grows like this.] from the drawing of the wild mustard (fig. ) you will see that the flowers do not grow close to the leaves as they are placed in this design, but on tall stems which lift them far above the scattered leaf-sprays. the design fig. was made by cutting off a number of flower-clusters and leaves, and grouping first one flower-cluster and one leaf-spray together, with the ends of their stems touching, then another flower-cluster and another leaf-spray. the arrows in fig. show where the stems are brought together, and the design fig. shows how the joining of the first two is covered with one of the small leaves of the second leaf-spray, and how the joining of the second two is hidden under a leaf of the third leaf-spray, and so on. [illustration: fig. - parts of wild mustard design.] there are four flower-clusters and five leaf-sprays in the design. you can have as many as you wish but must end them with a leaf-spray. [illustration: fig. - buttercup design.] buttercups--a design buttercups are so beautifully golden, so glossy and bright, you would think they could be made into many nice things, a gold necklace for instance. and so they could if they only would not wilt almost as soon as they are gathered. to be sure, they will revive and freshen up when put in water if they are not too much wilted, but we cannot make them into jewelry while their stems are in water. still there is something buttercups can be used for, and that is designs. fig. is a drawing from the simplest kind of a buttercup design but a pretty one. it shows five wide-open blossoms placed in a row at equal distances apart with a little spray of leaves and bud at the lower end of each stem. these sprays do not grow as they are in the design but are added after the flowers are placed in a row. as in all other designs, each flower, bud, and stem is touched with paste on the under-side to hold it in place on the paper. a design like fig. should be pressed after it is arranged, and it will last a long while and keep its bright color. a number of other and very beautiful designs can be made of the common wild buttercup. chapter vi pussy-willows we all welcome and love the dear little pussy-willows (fig. ) whose fur is so soft and silvery. how pretty they look sitting along the slender, bare branches of the small american willow-tree which is their home. the pussies like to come early to assure us that spring is here. they are very tame little kitties, and will allow you to carry them away to your school or to your home. [illustration: fig. - pussy-willows.] sometimes pussy-willows turn into little rabbits, squirrels, bumblebees, and mice, but they need your help, they cannot make the magic change alone. it will be lots of fun helping them if you do it this way. [illustration: fig. - the rabbit and the rabbit's ears, enlarged.] [illustration: fig. - the pussy-willow bunnies.] [illustration: fig. - pussy-willow squirrel, enlarged.] [illustration: fig. - paper tail, enlarged, for squirrel.] pussy-willow rabbits take a small branch of the very largest pussies you can find, have ready some scraps of smooth, fresh writing-paper, a piece of cardboard, pair of scissors, and some good paste. it only requires long ears to change the pussy-willows into bunnies. cut the ears from your writing-paper like the pattern fig. . put paste on the strip between the letters g and h, then take a pussy from the branch and stick the paste-covered strip just above the small end of the pussy, which will be the bunny's head. the arrow i, fig. , points to the place for the ears. when the paste has dried bend the ears up like the ears of the rabbits in fig. . make three or four rabbits to keep each other company and paste them in a row on your piece of cardboard. [illustration: fig. - the pussy-willow bumble-bee.] a pussy-willow squirrel this little gray squirrel (fig. ), sitting up in such a lifelike pose, must be made of a slightly bent, rather long, slender pussy. pull forward some of the fur near the small end so that it will look like the front legs of the squirrel when he holds a nut in his hand-like front paws, and push up two tufts on the head for ears. the pussy from which fig. was made already had these tufts for legs and ears, and it looked so much like a squirrel one simply had to add the tail and let it be a squirrel. [illustration: fig. - parts of bumble-bee.] [illustration: fig. - draw the legs of the bee like this.] cut the paper tail like the pattern fig. , fringe it along the edge and bend forward the little lap at the bottom which is separated from the tail by the dotted line. curve the tail backward, put paste on top of the lap, and stick the lap to the under part of the large end of the pussy; then paste the finished squirrel to a piece of pasteboard cut round or square as you like best. pussy-willow bumblebee mr. bumblebee (fig. ) needs one whole pussy for his body, one-half of a pussy for his big, round throat, and a small piece of the pussy for his head (fig. ). on the piece of cardboard which is to hold the bee, draw his legs like fig. , then paste the three parts--body, throat, and head--on top of the legs. fig. shows how it would look underneath if you could see through the paper, so you will know exactly where to paste first the throat, then the head, and lastly the body. the edges of these parts where they join must be pushed close together. [illustration: fig. - paste the three parts of the bee on top of the legs.] [illustration: fig. - mr. bumble-bee, enlarged, ready for his wings.] a bumblebee has slightly curved spikes extending from his head which are called antennæ. fig. shows you where to draw them. you will also see on the same diagram how to widen the six legs, making them thicker and more lifelike. cut paper wings the shape of fig. , making them the proper size to fit your bee. remember that a bumblebee has small, short wings compared to the size of its body. bend the lap at the bottom of the wing along the dotted line, and paste the lap of each wing onto the sides of mr. bumblebee's chest. the wings turn back over the laps and hide them. (see fig. ). the finished bee is shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. - pattern of bumble-bee wing.] [illustration: fig. - showing lap of wing bent back.] if you cut a leaf out of green paper and put your bumble-bee on that instead of on the cardboard, he will look, with his extended wings, as if just ready to fly, and will make a fine addition to your collection of things made of outdoor material. [illustration: fig. - pussy-willow mouse, enlarged.] pussy-willow mouse then there is the pussy-willow mouse (fig. ). he is a nice little gray mouse with a long tail. choose a large pussy-willow for this mouse, ruffle the fur up on top of the head and it will look like ears. the head is at the small end of the pussy. paste one end of a piece of cotton string under the large end of the mouse, and that will be his tail. the string should be white. [illustration: fig. - jumping pussy-willow game-board.] finish by pasting the mouse to a round or square piece of pasteboard. jumping pussy-willows--a game this is a good game and it will make you laugh to see the pussies leap up in the air, sail along a short distance, and land on a numbered square of the game-board. the board (fig. ) should be ten or twelve inches square. cut it from a flat, even box lid or any other pasteboard you happen to have. draw straight lines from top to bottom about one inch apart, then more straight lines from side to side one inch apart. this will divide the board into squares like a checker-board. each of these squares must be numbered and you can draw or paste them in. fig. shows how the game-board should look. to play the game, lay the board down on a flat surface, a stone will do if you are out-of-doors, or even the ground; and a table, if in the house. in front of the board draw a short line for the starting-post. the line should be ten or more inches from the board according to the distance you can make the pussies jump. any number of players may join in the game and each player should have his own jumping pussy. [illustration: fig. - place your finger on the pussy-willow and make it jump.] fig. shows how to place the pussy under the tip of your right forefinger, with the large, blunt end standing a little out beyond the finger-tip. when ready to shoot, press down suddenly on the pussy and, as your finger slides off the small end, away jumps pussy and lands on a square of the game-board. each player plays in turn, always, of course, placing the pussy on the starting-line when shooting. the player whose pussy lands on the highest number wins the game. jumping pussy-willow can also be played by dividing the players into two even sides; then the side which has the highest score, after the numbers won by them have been added up, is the winner. pussy-willow bouquet a nice, big bunch of pussy-willows makes an attractive bouquet, and a very welcome one early in the spring. "the pussies are out!" we hear some one say, and then the boys and girls vie with one another in their effort to be the first to find and bring home branches of the little catkins as proof that spring has come and they were the first to see her. chapter vii arrangement of flowers the arrangement of flowers is interesting and means a great deal. it means that this chapter will tell you what wild flowers look prettiest on the dinner-table and in bowls and vases in other parts of the house; what flowers and vines will keep fresh longest, and the kind that do not need water but are beautiful when dry. it means that you can learn not to force a tightly packed handful of all sorts of flowers into a small vase and expect them to look well. flowers don't like crowding and are quite particular about their associates. if you come in hot and tired after your walk, put the flowers you have gathered into a pail of fresh water and let them stay there until you have rested and are ready to sort them out and make each kind look its very best. all flowers do not appear well in stiff, straight vases; all do not look well in bowls. that is the first thing to learn, and the next is that while some flowers seem to smile upon and nestle lovingly up to some others, there are kinds that they seem to draw away from and frown upon. only a few examples can be given here. if you love the flowers you will find out more for yourself. the wild morning-glory in your walks through the fields and along the country roadsides have you ever noticed the wild morning-glory? of course, you have seen it and, perhaps, gathered some blossoms, only to find them in a short time wilted in your hand or turned into little, long bags, puckered at the top as if drawn up with a string. [illustration: fig. - this is the way the wild morning glory looks.] when i say noticed, i mean have you thought about the flowers while you looked at them? have you noticed their shape and beautiful color, and have you seen the great difference between the green leaf of the wild morning-glory and that of the cultivated one? the wild morning-glory leaf (fig. ) is more beautiful in shape, the vine is more graceful, and the blossom just as lovely as the cultivated morning-glory, and all this beauty need not be left behind when you gather the wild flowers which are to make the rooms of your home charming. while i write this, july , there stands on a table in our living-room a tall glass vase, wide at the top and holding plenty of water. it is filled with a mass of wild morning-glory-vines, and there are four new, entirely open, pink and white blossoms while others are just twisting open. [illustration: fig. - the wild morning glory blossomed after it was gathered.] four days ago, when out for a walk in the country, i gathered the vine by the roadside where it grew in the company of daisies, buttercups, and wild mustard. lifting themselves up into the light, where the warmth of the morning sun could open the buds and where the leaves could breathe in the fresh air, some of these trailing vines had wound themselves in masses around tall, strong weed-stalks. i gathered the vines, weed-stalks and all, breaking them off close to the ground; and now these stalks hold most of the vines upright in the vase, while other sprays droop gracefully over the edge and hang down almost to the table-top. only one or two flowers were in bloom when i found the vines, but there were quantities of green buds which i hoped would open later, and that is just what they are doing. it is like having wild flowers growing in one's window. and as for decoration, nothing can be more beautiful (fig. ). trailing vines always make pretty decorations, and many wild ones keep fresh a long while when given plenty of water. some have flowers, some have not, but in any case they are worth gathering when you have large vases to fill. the wild balsam-apple or as some people call it, the wild cucumber, is very decorative. that means it has beautiful curves and twists, and its small, white flowers, prickly, egg-shaped fruit, and long tendrils twisted spirally, like a steel watch-spring let loose, make us love to look at it. the leaves are pretty, too, being shaped almost like a five-pointed star. sometimes this vine is cultivated and you will find it trained up on strings to shade the porch, or over the kitchen-door of a farmhouse. wherever you find it, it is beautiful. a large jar filled with sprays of the wild balsam makes a good centrepiece for the table, or a tall vase holding some upright and some drooping sprays looks very pretty when placed near a window where the light will fall on it. do not mix other flowers with it, its own blossoms are sufficient. wild clematis the wild clematis is another beautiful vine, and you will find it clambering over fences and bushes along the country road. its masses of white flowers fill the air with a sweet, spicy perfume that delights you. you can gather the clematis when it is in blossom, and keep it fresh in water for some time if you put it in root ends down. this vine does not wilt as you carry it. later in the season, when the white flowers have turned into balls of silvery fringe, the vine is lovely in a different way. then you can gather great armfuls and take it home to hang over mirrors or picture-frames, letting it become quite dry. it is best to strip the leaves off the sprays at first because they are not beautiful when dry. in a day or two after hanging up your clematis the balls of fringe will become a mass of soft down which will cling to the vine for many weeks. later, when it becomes dusty, take it down. bittersweet then there is bittersweet, another wild vine that we gather in the fall. it covers fences and bushes as the clematis does, but instead of turning into fringe balls its small, creamy white flowers become bunches of berries. the berries are yellow at first; when ripe they split open and curl back to show the brilliant red seeds inside that look like coral beads. gather the bittersweet while the berries are yellow, strip off the green leaves, and hang the vine up dry or put it in a large vase without water. then the berries will open and last all winter. snapdragon and wild carrot both of these are pretty flowers and worth gathering. the snapdragon (perhaps you call it butter-and-eggs) does not mind at all where it grows. field, roadside, or even the village streets may be its home, but wherever it lives, it makes the spot shine joyously with its stalks of yellow blossoms. snapdragons combine well with the wild carrot, whose other name is queen anne's lace, and together they make a delicate and beautiful bouquet. if you have a large glass fish-globe fill it with fresh water, and put in the snapdragon and wild carrot in a loose bouquet. nothing could be prettier for the august lunch-table than this. wild roses look best in a low glass bowl, for they have no stems to speak of. short-stemmed flowers do not belong in tall vases. the roses wilt quickly out of water and should have plenty of it. do not put any other kind of flowers in the bowl; the roses won't like it; neither will you when you see how much better they look by themselves. daisies and buttercups so friendly in the fields, look pretty when arranged in a deep jar together, but i would not mix daisies with any other flowers, unless it is the lacy wild carrot. buttercups look well with the carrot, too, and buttercups look pretty mixed with grasses. you see they all know each other very well, growing in the fields together. the wild flag, or iris whose home is along the banks of ponds and small streams, should be put into a tall clear glass vase or pitcher, where its stems will show through, that it may look its best. there is the yellow iris, the white and the purple, and they are very beautiful when combined but not crowded. always put some of the long-spiked leaves in with the flowers. clover bouquets clover bouquets make delightful centrepieces for the table. arranged loosely with its own green foliage, the rose-colored clover is especially beautiful in a clear, green glass bowl of water. the sprays should be brought over the edges of the bowl, and allowed to droop down, resting partly on the table. yellow clover and its foliage mingled with white clover makes a charming combination as a bouquet for almost any occasion. the name of the yellow clover is hop-clover. it is not as common as the other kinds. green bouquets when there are no flowers to be had you can have bouquets and centrepieces of green leaves, ferns, and vines, and you will be surprised to find what pretty ones can be arranged and how much they will be admired. ferns will wither soon unless taken up with the roots and the soil surrounding them; but if they have the roots and soil they will last a long while, provided you put them in a bowl or jar and keep them _always wet_. that does not mean to water them as you would any other growing plant, but to keep them _standing_ in water _all the time_. maidenhair-fern kept in this way makes a delicate and beautiful centrepiece for the table. sometimes you will find varieties of foliage that are full of color. in early summer the young leaves of the scrub-oak are very brilliant in reds and yellows, and i have made bouquets of nothing but leaves from the rose-bushes. these are often tinged with red and purple. sprays of the barberry-bush with its rows of dangling red berries are pretty in a green bowl. be careful of the thorns when you gather this. cut the stems; do not try to break them. _part ii_ grasses chapter viii fairy-trees made of grasses some of our grasses appear like very large trees to the little grass fairies who, we like to pretend, hide in their midst; while other grasses, with their jointed, bamboo-like stems, seem to these tiny people to be tall forests of real bamboo. why not play that you are a little fairy and live among the grasses? but to see the grasses as the fairies see them you must lie down and bring your eyes very near the ground; so stretch yourself out flat, face down, with your head lower than the grass tops; then look steadily ahead through the tall grass stems. what do you see? the five fairy-trees standing by themselves in fig. are four short-stemmed tops of the scribner's panic-grass. fig. shows exactly how the grass looks before you pick it, and fig. gives a simple design that you can make by placing the tips of the four grass tops together, allowing the stems of two heads to lie in a straight horizontal line (that means a line running from left to right), and the stems of the other two heads to lie in a straight line vertically (that means up and down). while you are playing with the grasses you can begin to learn something about them. the beard-grass, which some people call the little blue-stem (fig. ), has near relatives named forked beard-grass and bushy beard-grass. these are stiff and angular, with bamboo-like stems, just the thing for trees in a little japanese garden which some time you will want to make. you may run across them anywhere, for they are common in all parts of our country. [illustration: fig. - trees of scribner's panic-grass.] [illustration: fig. - scribner's panic-grass as it grows, panicum scribnerianum.] make friends with these and with other grasses. as you find them learn their names just as you would learn the names of new playmates. take the grasses home, show them to your father and to your mother; if they do not know their names, carry them to school and ask your teacher about them. in case she cannot tell you, go to the public library with your grasses and persuade the librarian at the desk to help you find their pictures and names in some of her books. all grasses have names, so [illustration: fig. - you will run across these anywhere.] keep asking and hunting until you know what to call them. when you know their names you will be glad to see your friends, the pretty green grasses, whenever you find them. in chapter xviii, which tells how to make a burdock-burr house, you will find more about grasses. [illustration: fig. - scribner's panic-grass. design made of four grass heads.] chapter ix a house made of grass real people live in grass houses way off in the philippine islands. that is, their houses are made of bamboo, which is a kind of giant grass. it must be a pretty airy, comfortable house in summer, and it is always summer in the philippines, but we never see that kind of houses here. one reason is because in most of our country a grass house would be very cold in winter, and another reason for not building them is because the bamboo grows only in the extreme south, and even down there people want more substantial homes. a prettier playhouse, though, could not be devised, and if you could see a filipino house you would want it immediately, but since you cannot have a real one you can have the fun of making a little doll filipino house, and of making it exactly as the little brown filipino men make theirs. suppose you gather some grass and twigs now, and build the little house for your doll. some of the queer little people whose home is in the philippine islands perch their houses like birds' nests up in the trees, but often they are built on stilts to lift them high from the ground. our little house (fig. ) shall be on stilts. we will make the floor first. if you do not understand how to measure by inches, ask an older person to help you. the floor find two straight, round sticks, not quite as large round as a lead-pencil. the sticks must be cut six and a half inches long, then two sticks of the same kind five inches long; after that there must be six more sticks five inches long. split these last six sticks in half lengthwise. the philippine people do not use nails, or screws, or glue, and not even wooden pegs, in building their houses; they bind and tie the parts together with rattan, and as we are going to build just as they do we, too, will tie the parts of our house together, but will use raffia in place of the rattan. [illustration: fig. - the little grass house you can make.] hold one of the six-and-a-half-inch sticks (letter j, fig. ) upright in your hand while you cross it a short distance below the top with a five-inch-round stick (letter k, fig. ). the distance from the top of the upright stick to the crossing and the distance from the short end of the other stick to the crossing must be the same. [illustration: fig. - begin binding them together.] [illustration: fig. - carry the raffia over and between the two ends of the sticks.] begin binding them together as shown in fig. . then carry the raffia (string will do if you cannot get raffia) over and between the two ends of the sticks (fig. ), and wind it opposite ways several times around the sticks, bringing the raffia between as well as over them. this will lash them firmly together. now turn this beginning of your floor around so that the short stick will be upright and the long one extend from side to side. do not let the binding loosen; hold it tight and cross the long stick with one of the split five-inch sticks (fig. ). be sure that the flat side of the split stick is next to the long stick, and that you leave a slight opening between it and the first crosspiece. pull the raffia tight and bind it over this second crosspiece (fig. ), then back, crossing it as in fig. . [illustration: fig. - turn the sticks, bringing j in horizontal position.] [illustration: fig. - bind raffia over second stick.] [illustration: fig. - then bring raffia across front of second stick.] bind on the next split crosspiece in the same way, and go on adding crosspieces until they reach almost to the end of the long stick, then let the last crosspiece be the second unsplit five-inch stick. when all the short crosspieces are properly bound onto the long stick, bind the other six-and-a-half-inch long stick under the opposite ends of the crosspieces in the same way, and just as carefully (fig. ). this makes the floor and we must lash it to the stilts, which are four upright sticks, each seven and one half inches long. fit the stilts in the outside corners made by the crossing of the end and side sticks of the floor, and, holding the floor about four and a half inches above the lower ends of the stilts, bind floor and stilts together (fig. ). of course you can put the stilts on only one at a time. the walls make the framework for the walls by binding and tying onto the stilts near the top two sticks, each six and a half inches long, one stick on each side. across these sticks, from stilt to stilt, at each end, bind a five-inch-length stick (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - make the floor this way.] the roof to support the roof there must be two upright sticks, each seven inches long, and these sticks must be bound and tied to the middle of the end sticks of the floor and the end sticks of the wall. they are lettered l and l in fig. [illustration: fig. - lash the floor to the stilts.] [illustration: fig. - bind on four more poles making framework for walls.] fig. shows the framework of the house without the bindings, so that you may see exactly how the sticks are put together. there is a ridge-pole which forms the top ridge of the roof. this must be a stick about seven inches long, and it is to be tied to the uprights lettered l and l that you have just fastened on the two ends of the house. (see fig. , l and l.) four other sticks, m and m and n and n, long enough to reach from the ridge-pole, crossing above it, to the side crosspieces of the wall, you must tie to the ridge-pole and the side-wall sticks, placing them slanting, as you see them in fig. , at each end. the porch like many other people, the filipino wants a porch to his house. perhaps he sits there to smoke his curious little pipe, which is not much larger than the one you make of an acorn. i have never seen him on his porch, but i have seen him smoke and afterward tuck his pipe away in his long, fuzzy hair, where it remained in safety even while he leaped and pranced about in the wild dance he loves so much. [illustration: fig. - end poles are added to hold up the roof.] [illustration: fig. - this is the way the house is put together.] but we must not forget the porch. if the filipino has one to his house, we must have a porch to ours. we won't make it separately and add it to the part already built, but, as the filipino does, we will use part of the house-floor for the floor of the porch, and let the roof cover that as well as the house. to do this we must separate the house part from the porch part by putting up two more uprights, one on each side, a little way back from the front of the house, and these uprights will form the boundary-line. letters o and p in fig. are these last uprights, the sticks which form them being long enough to reach from the wall side-piece to the floor, and extend a little above and below where they cross the upper and lower sticks. [illustration: fig. - fresh grass instead of palms over one side wall.] [illustration: fig. - strips of wood to bind down the grass on wall.] thatching now we come to the real grass part of the house, for we have had to use small sticks for the framework instead of bamboo, and where the filipino uses palm-leaves we will use grass. gather some long, coarse, fresh blades of grass for thatching both the roof and walls, and begin with the walls. bunch the grass evenly, the stem ends all together, bend the bunch at the centre, then spread it out at its centre, and hang it thickly over one side-wall beam, which is the upper stick (fig. ). have the stem ends inside the house hang down as long as the tip ends on the outside, and let the outside ends hang down below the edge of the floor; then take a flat strip of wood and place it near the top of the grass-covered wall, bend the ends a little and slide them back of the uprights (fig. ). smooth the grass down evenly and put in another flat stick, this time at the bottom (fig. ). if you want the inside of the house as perfect as the outside, slide in two other strips on the inside of each wall to hold the grass down. fig. shows the grass partially trimmed off to make it even at the bottom. [illustration: fig. - pole rafter being thatched for roof.] [illustration: fig. - shows exactly how the raffia is tied.] [illustration: fig. - hang grass over ridge pole of roof.] to thatch the roof you will need two more sticks for rafters. over one stick, near the end, tie a bunch of grass into a tassel, using a piece of raffia to bind it; hang more grass over the stick or rafter, and tie it into another tassel, and with the same piece of raffia tie a third tassel (fig. ). fig. shows exactly how the raffia is tied. make the tassels rather thick and put them close together so that there will be no space between. when this rafter (the stick) is covered with thatch lay it across the side of the roof half-way between the ridge-pole (top stick on the roof) and the stick forming the side wall of the house, and tie the ends securely to the slanting sticks of the roof. thatch another rafter and fasten it on the opposite side of the roof, then cover two shorter sticks with thatch and tie one across the front, the other across the back peak of the roof on a line with the thatched rafters on the sides. fasten more thatch at the front and back peak of the roof, tying it to the ridge-pole, also to the two slanting sticks. allow the grass to hang down far enough to cover the top of the thatch below it (fig. ). this thatch must entirely fill up the ends of the roof made by the peak. now hang grass over the ridge-pole at the top of the roof as you would hang your doll's little sheets on your toy clothes-line (fig. ), and bring the ends down over the thatched rafters on each side of the roof. hold this top thatch in place by laying sticks across the grass just below the ridge-pole on each side of the roof. bind and tie these sticks at each end to the framework of the house (fig. ). if grass cannot be had for thatching, soak hay in water to make it soften and take the stiffness out, then use that. raffia dyed green might do, or should all else fail, take fine broom-straws softened in hot water for the thatch, and use loosely twisted string for binding and tying. of course the string should not be white, but you can dip it in coffee and dry it; the color will then be like the color of rattan. the ladder the spry little filipinos use ladders instead of stairs to reach their living-room, so we must make a rustic ladder for our house. cut two slender sticks about six and one-half inches long for the sides; then cut seven or eight short sticks for the crosspieces or rungs. the rungs should be one and three-quarter inches long. bind and tie the ends of the rungs to the side sticks (fig. ), placing them about three-quarters of an inch apart. the ends of the rungs must cross the side sticks and extend out about one-quarter of an inch. if properly tied, your little ladder will be firm and strong. [illustration: fig. - the ladder will be strong and firm.] place the ladder one end resting on the ground, the other end on the front edge of the porch, then stand off and admire your work. it is certainly worth admiring, for the house will be a perfect miniature filipino home, and you may imagine you can see tall cocoanut-palms and many other strange and beautiful trees and plants that grow in the hot philippine islands. you might copy some of these with grasses and small flowering wild plants. if you have a noah's ark it will be a good idea to select some of the animals that live in the philippines and put them in the little rattan and bamboo jungles which you have made of grasses. a piece of looking-glass or plain window-glass can represent water not far from the house, and here you should have a crocodile sunning himself on the bank. let a wild boar be plunging out of the jungle, and deep in the bamboo grove you might hide the tremendously large snake called a boa. i don't think there will be a boa in your noah's ark, but you can make one of bread dough, or of clay. with all these dangerous creatures prowling round, do you think it strange that the filipino people put their houses on stilts? if this were a real house in the real philippines you might see a number of natives, wearing little or no clothes, coming toward you bringing small snakes which they had caught to sell in the towns for rat-catchers. and near the house there would be most wonderful flowers, some of them orchids, the flowers that live on air; while all around would be strange and rare birds. at one side of the house, some distance away, there would, perhaps, be a wet rice-field where the queer water-buffalo, called a carabao, would be drawing a strange-looking plough, the driver, a little brown man, wearing an immense umbrella-like hat woven of palm-leaves. listen! do you hear that deep, booming sound? it comes from the peculiar tree which a native is striking with his big club in slow, heavy blows on one of its immense, wall-like roots. the sound goes rolling far over the land, telephoning to other natives that white people are coming. a doll filipino woman to make the little house seem more real, dress a doll in genuine philippine costume and stand her near the ladder with arms extended as if in welcome. the dress must be a white waist with flowing sleeves, a light-colored skirt, a large gay handkerchief, called a _pañuelo_, folded around the doll's neck, and an overskirt made of a square of dark cloth drawn tightly around her body from waist to knees. no stockings are needed, but you can give her heelless slippers with only a narrow strip over the toes to keep them on. chapter x grass dress and grass head-dress look at the little girl in the photograph who is wearing her new grass dress made of the wavy hair-grass and playing that she is a wood-nymph. she feels very proud and is greatly pleased with her pretty costume. [illustration: fig. - bring the long end of string across front of second bunch and form loop a.] [illustration: fig. - first loop, a, on front of grass and string passed around back of grass forming second loop, b.] [illustration: fig. - string brought forward again and slipped through first loop, a.] almost any kind of long, slender grasses can be used for a dress of this kind, but you must gather an armful or more. it takes a good deal of material, for the fringe must be close and thick. [illustration: she is greatly pleased with her pretty grass costume.] divide the grass into bunches, each bunch about as thick as your thumb, and have the heads of all the grasses together at one end of the bunch, and the stem ends together at the other end. [illustration: fig. - use a strong string for tying the grass fringe.] tie a strong string around the stem ends of one bunch. hold this tied bunch under your left arm, stem ends to the front, and take up another bunch (fig. ). bring the long end of the string across the front of the second bunch and form a loop (a, fig. ). hold the loop while you pass the string around the back of the bunch (fig. ), then slide the end through the loop a, fig. . draw this loop-fastening very tight and it will hold. now place the second bunch under your arm with the first bunch, and make a loop-fastening around the third bunch. keep on adding bunches of grass in this way, always drawing the last bunch close to the one before it, and holding them all together under your arm as in the photograph (fig. ). in this picture the grass bunches are purposely left far apart that you may see exactly how to make the fringe. [illustration: fig. - bristle-spiked cyperus grass used for head-dress. see photograph.] the grass dress will be finished when you have made a strip of fringe long enough to reach around your waist, for the skirt--it needs no waist--is really only a fringe of grasses to be worn over a light summer dress. grass head-dress the grass head-dress to be worn with the wood-nymph skirt is quite as wild-looking, but is simply a band of grasses, with bunches of the bristle-spiked cyperus grass (fig. ) hanging downward on each end. the band goes across over the top of the head, and the grass side ornaments fall over the ears. wear the grass costume and carry a light branch of green leaves in each hand when you give your next outdoor fancy dance, or take part in outdoor tableaux where you could represent either a wood-nymph or the spirit of the grasses. _part iii_ green leaves chapter xi oak-leaves to dress up and pretend is something every little girl, and boy too, for that matter, likes to do, and there is no better place for having this kind of fun and no greater storehouse for dress-up material than the wide, sunny fields and green, shady forest on a summer's day. [illustration: fig. - the robinson crusoe hat.] if you want to be a wood-nymph, a fairy, or a pioneer; if you would be a fashionable lady decked in jewels rare, or a rollicking cowboy, or robinson crusoe, it is all the same to mother nature's department store. fields, woods & co. can furnish all you need. if the goods are not always ready to wear, they are at least ready to be made up into what you want. why, you can even be a little savage and wear a skirt made of a fringe of long grasses, like the wood-nymph's dress, and bracelets of slender, golden-brown rootlets, if that pleases you; all the materials are ready to your hand. and you can make a robinson crusoe hat of the large leaves of the scrub-oak--a pretty and becoming hat and one that will keep your head cool though you walk under the hottest of noonday suns. the photograph given here shows one little girl who likes immensely to wear her crusoe hat, and fig. shows just how the hat looks when not on her head. it won't take more than five minutes to make the hat, but first you must gather the leaves. ordinary oak-leaves are too small to use; it is on the scrub-oak that you will find them large enough. the scrub-oak grows low, like a bush, and the leaves will be quite within your reach. like a good shopkeeper, this kind of oak shows his customers leaves of various sizes, but it is the very largest that you must take, and only the ones that are dark-green in color. the pretty new light-green or brownish leaves will soon wilt and curl on the edges, while a hat made of the older, tougher ones will last in good condition several days if left out in the dew at night or kept damp in the house. [illustration: the robinson crusoe hat is pretty and becoming.] the number of leaves needed depends upon the size of the leaves and the size of your head. it is well to have at least a dozen and a half; then you can select the best. the largest leaves are not always perfect, but unless very much torn or eaten away by insects they will answer. to gather all you need you will probably have to visit several of the little scrub-oaks. if you are at home when you make your hat, use broom-straws to pin the leaves together; if you are in the woods find some smooth, slender twigs, break them in short pieces, and they will take the place of the straws. begin by pinning two leaves together as they are in fig. . these leaves are lettered u and v. you see that u is lapped over v and then pinned to it in two places, first near the stem and then through the lower side lobe. the next leaf would be letter w, and w would be pinned to u just as u is pinned to v. make the stems meet at the top and keep adding leaves, pinning one to another, until the hat is large enough to fit your head comfortably, then pin the last leaf to the first. [illustration: fig. - pin the leaves together in this way.] do not make the hat too flat; if you find it flattening out, lap the leaves over more at the bottom. when finished it should be shaped like fig. . oak-leaf mask among other frolics in the woods you can have a masquerade--a real one, where you wear a mask, and that mask made of one of the largest leaves of the scrub-oak. not even a pair of scissors will be needed to make this mask, and it is a funny one too (fig. ). see the turned-up eyelids and the wide nose tilted at the end. when you have found a leaf large enough (the one in the drawing was nine inches long and seven inches wide) use your thumb-nail to cut out the eyes and nose. the outlines at the top of fig. show how to shape them, and the dotted lines show where they are bent up. [illustration: fig. - the oak leaf mask.] there is no mouth, none is needed, for the leaf, below the nose, drops down loosely over your mouth like the curtain on a mask one buys at a shop. the oak-leaf mask will stay on your face if you wet the under parts of each side and stick them to your cheeks. another way to make the mask is to turn the leaf around, stem down, and then cut the eyes and nose in the wide part, leaving the narrower stem end for a long chin. this kind you can hold in front of your face by taking the stem in your hand. it requires so short a time to make a mask that when one wears out or is lost you can have another to replace it in a minute or two. [illustration: fig. - the little oak leaf dog.] [illustration: fig. - this shows how the dog was made.] [illustration: fig. - the leaf the dog was made of.] the little oak-leaf dog he has the funny expression of a real dog when he is making up his mind what to do next, even if he is only an oak-leaf. it was an ordinary leaf four inches long which was, by tearing a little here and bending a little there, transformed into his absurd dogship (fig. ). fig. is the tracing of the leaf actually used for the dog. fig. shows the same leaf with its stem nipped off and the other end torn up, not very evenly, where the dotted lines are in fig. . this makes the little dog's tail. the tear on either side reaches to the mid-rib of the leaf, but does not cross it, and the mid-rib being unbroken holds the tail out stiff and straight. the two hind legs are bent down just where the tear ends in making the tail. the dotted line in fig. shows this. the other two legs, formed by the side lobes of the leaf, are bent down as the dotted lines indicate. the tip of the lobe on the left side had to be torn off because that leg was longer than the opposite one. in making the neck the narrow part of the leaf was bent up and then down, the two dotted lines show where. then the ears were bent up and the little oak-leaf dog was placed standing as you see him in fig. , to have his picture drawn. chapter xii grape-leaf drinking-cup a wild-grape leaf will do quite as well as a cultivated one for a drinking-cup if it is large enough. you want a large leaf, because a small one will hold only a sip of water, and when one is really thirsty that is certainly not enough. whether wild or cultivated, the grape-leaf should be washed in clean water to take off dust and any possible insects that may be on it. where there is water to drink there is water for washing the leaf, so there can be no difficulty about that, and the large green leaf, freshened by the water, looks very cool and inviting. it is simply a matter of folding, first one way, then the other, that turns the grape-leaf into a cup. fig. is a tracing of the leaf from which the cup (fig. ) was made. it measured eight inches at its widest part, almost seven inches from tip to stem, and the cup held a good supply of water. begin to fold by bringing the two lower lobes of the leaf together in the way shown in fig. . this makes the middle bend that is indicated by the dotted line in fig. . then bring the two lobes around to the left, or to the right if that comes easier, hold them close together and lap them over the upper lobe on that side. that makes the two side bends which join at the middle bend (fig. ), and rounds the cup into shape. [illustration: fig. - the drinking cup was made of a leaf like this.] [illustration: fig. - a fine drinking cup made by folding a grape leaf.] [illustration: fig. - bring the two lower lobes of the leaf together.] the bottom of the cup is pointed, as you see, and, of course, will not stand; then, too, the cup falls apart when you loosen your hold, but neither of these things are of any consequence, for you can let your cup lie flat and fold it again very quickly when it is needed. as long as the folds are held tight in your fingers, the cup will keep its shape and hold water without leaking a particle. use the upper, or green, side of the leaf for the inside of the cup; the under, or light, side is fuzzy and may harbor small insects even after it is washed. be sure you look into the water before drinking it. this should be done no matter what you drink from or where you get the water. chapter xiii green-leaf designs beech-leaves remarkably pretty designs can be made entirely of green leaves; also with leaves and their seed-pods, their nuts and berries. you can press a design of leaves alone, but one having seed-pods, berries, or nuts cannot be pressed. it is fun to make it, even if it cannot be preserved by pressing, and you will like to do it. [illustration: fig. - two twigs broken off a beech tree made this design.] fig. is the drawing of a charming design made of two twigs broken off a beech-tree. on one twig were two beechnuts in their pretty green, spiky outer shells; on the other was just one nut. each twig had three leaves. nothing was cut off and nothing was added for this design; the twigs were used exactly as they came from the tree. the stems were simply crossed, with the lower leaf of one twig falling over the stem of the other twig, and that finished it. the easiest thing in the world to do if you happen to think of it. violet-leaves there is one thing about the green leaves of the violet which makes it a joy to use them in a design, and that is, the stems are so pliable, so easily bent and curved, you can do almost anything with them. [illustration: fig. - design made of violet leaves.] see how the stems add to the beauty of the violet-leaf design fig. . [illustration: fig. - the stem curves naturally.] [illustration: fig. - under side of the small leaf in the design.] the curve of the stem of fig. is a natural one for it to take, and you can probably find a leaf with its stem curved very much like it, but it is another thing to come across one of the same size which has a stem curved in the opposite direction, and such a stem is necessary for a design like fig. . very well! since the stem does not naturally curve the way we want it, we will make it do so. all we have to do is to draw it through our fingers several times and, by pressure, gently persuade it to turn as we wish. fig. is the under-side of the small leaf at the bottom of the design (fig. ), and shows how the stem loop above the leaf was made. [illustration: fig. - this is the way the curling ground-pine grows.] first a violet-leaf with stem curved like the one in fig. was laid down on a sheet of paper, then another leaf of the same size, with stem _made_ to curve in the opposite direction, was placed beside but not touching the first leaf, and with its stem crossing the other stem. the two stems meeting at the bottom formed a pear-shaped loop. the small leaf, after its stem had been formed into a loop and the end tucked in at the back, was fitted on top of the stems of the large leaves, as you see it in fig. . [illustration: fig. - beautiful, tiny, green pine-tree made of a curling branch of the ground-pine.] violet-leaves are seldom flat; they are apt to curl at the edges; some are so curled as to form little cornucopias. choose the flattest you can find for a design like fig. , and paste them to the paper with a touch of paste on the under-part of the tip and of the two lobes at the bottom of each leaf. paste the stems down also with a touch of paste here and there. the violet-leaf design can be pressed. ground-pine deep in the shadowy woods, often where pine-trees are growing, you will find the ground-pine. clinging close to the ground, curling in feathery, green clusters on its vine-like root, it runs for yards over the surface, while its root, lying along the top, sends down slender rootlets into the earth. push away the dry leaves or pine-needles that usually cover the root, and you can pull up long strips and soon gather enough to make the prettiest kind of festive decorations. festoons of the ground-pine are very pretty on walls, stair-banisters, porch-railings, over picture-frames, and hanging from chandeliers, and this ready-made evergreen rope is as suitable for outdoor as for indoor decoration, as beautiful in summer as in winter. when you want to "dress-up" in the woods use the ground-pine for trimmings. loop it over your skirt and make a wreath for your hair. last summer at camp we used the ground-pine in this way and the little girls, arrayed for a dance, never looked prettier. for table decorations at camp and for decorating the tent doorways the ground-pine is charming. fig. shows how the short, curled clusters grow on the long root, and fig. gives a wee pine-tree made of one cluster picked off the root and planted in an outdoor doll's garden. this is what our american writer and poet, ralph waldo emerson, said of the ground-pine: "as i spoke, beneath my feet the ground-pine curled its pretty wreath." _part iv_ cultivated flowers chapter xiv phlox phlox tower and phlox design in a great bunch of garden-flowers given me by a friend i found some pink-and-white phlox (fig. ), and from it i made first a phlox tower as you know, the blossom is trumpet-shaped and flares at the open end into five petals. the tube part is long and narrows to a point, so it is easy to push one flower into another. that is what you do in building the phlox tower. you pull the blossom off its stem and out of the little green calyx which holds it, then you push the end of the tube part into the round red eye in the centre of another flower as far down as it will go. then you push another blossom into that one and build up until your tower is as high as you want it, or as high as it will stand without toppling over. a bud stuck in the top flower makes a good finish (fig. ). phlox design the design fig. was made by first putting three blossoms together, sticking one inside the other as for the tower, to form the long side sprays, and afterward arranging three blossoms below the side sprays and one above with their stems meeting at the middle, as they are in fig. . on each side of the upper flower was placed a sprig of buds; then the tube part of a blossom was cut off and the petal part fitted in the centre of the design to cover the ends of the other flowers where they met. [illustration: fig. - blossoms of the phlox.] [illustration: fig. - build your phlox tower like this.] the tube parts of three more flowers were cut away, and the petal parts arranged in the position shown in fig. . this formed a scattered design quite different from any of the others made of flowers. touches of paste on the under part held all the flowers in place. the phlox design is a good one to preserve by pressing. the tiger-lily leopard [illustration: fig. - this phlox design should be pressed.] from the brilliant-orange tiger-lily, with its dark-brown or black spots, we are going to make a--tiger? no, a leopard. tiger-lilies may have spots, but tigers, you know, are striped. it is really wonderful how much this little animal, made of parts of a beautiful flower and broom-straws, looks like the stealthy, prowling, wild creature which lives in africa and asia. the yellow coat of the live leopard is covered with black spots, and so is that of our flower leopard. the fierce living animal has a long tail that it moves slowly back and forth in anger or when it threatens to attack another animal or a man. our little leopard also has a long tail which, if it does not really move, looks as if it were just going to. but while the live animal is ferocious and will kill, we can only pretend that of the tiger-lily leopard. though he looks dangerous, he cannot even nibble a green leaf. the illustration of the tiger-lily given here is a drawing of the one from which the lily leopard (fig. ) was made. you will notice that at the right of the flower (fig. ) there is the stem and pistil of a blossom that has fallen apart. [illustration: fig. - the stealthy, prowling leopard.] [illustration: fig. - the leopard is made from a tiger lily like this.] when we make the leopard we cut off this lily-stem close to the stalk, leaving the pistil attached, to use for the back-bone and tail. four broom-straws, about an inch and a half long and sharpened at one end, we use for legs. the pointed ends of two of the legs are pushed into the stem at the front, and the other two in part of the pistil at the back, as shown in fig. . that makes the skeleton. [illustration: fig. - this is the skeleton of the leopard.] [illustration: fig. - the leopard's spotted coat.] now we have to fit on the skeleton the leopard's spotted coat. after pulling the perfect flower apart we select the petal best suited for this purpose (fig. ), and then take the curl partially out of it by pressing it down on the table with our fingers. the tip of the petal will have to be cut off because it comes down too far over the tail. the blunt end of the petal will be the leopard's head, and it can be rounded up and moulded with your fingers until it looks like the head of the leopard in fig. . small ears of bits of broom-straw, pointed at one end, we must stick in the head where they belong and then, in order to make the coat stay in place, we will pin it to the skeleton at the neck, in the middle of the back, and again at the tail, with fine broom-straws. so we have the little leopard complete. chapter xv cultivated foxglove fairy-caps [=transcriber's note:= foxglove is poisonous. do not play with foxgloves.] do you know the cultivated foxglove with its tall spikes of thimble-shaped flowers, prettily spotted inside? (fig. .) and do you know that these flowers will fit on the ends of your fingers like tall caps on the heads of little fairies? perhaps there are foxgloves growing in your garden now. if there are, pick five blossoms off the stalk, selecting a large one for your thumb and a small one for your little finger; the others should be of a size in between these two. turn these blossoms upside down and they at once become fairy-caps. fit the caps on all five fingers of your left hand. then on your fingers, just below the caps, draw little faces with pen and ink. now you have five living, moving fairies who will do all sorts of things and be very spry about it (fig. ). they will nod at you joyously, they will bend low in solemn salute, and they will put their little heads together to plan some piece of mischief. they can be fairy children at school, if you like, with the short, fat thumb fairy for the teacher; and you can make the fairy pupils stand close together, shoulder to shoulder, then at a word from the teacher, separate and stand alone again. it will be fun to name the fairies, such names as pepper-grass, mustard-seed, and catnip, and with the teacher standing before his class, have him call the roll and have each fairy bob his head as he answers to his name. [illustration: fig. - "do you know the cultivated fox glove?"] perhaps you will want the teacher to require each pupil to sing a little song or recite a short verse. when a fairy does that, he moves forward in front of the others, and stays in that place until he has finished. here is a pretty verse for a flower-capped fairy to recite: "i wonder what the clover thinks, intimate friend of the bobolinks, lover of daisies, slim and white, waltzer with buttercups at night. * * * * * oh, who knows what the clover thinks? no one! unless the bobolinks." sweet pea--the peacock [illustration: fig. - five living fairies.] you use a little pretended magic when you turn a sweet-pea blossom into a peacock, and that makes it seem more mysterious and more interesting. it doesn't take a second but while you are doing it you must repeat this transformation rhyme: "sweet pea, sweet pea, your petals unlock. i turn two down, and you're a peacock." pick out a fine, large sweet-pea blossom. it doesn't matter about the color. if you have a number to choose from, suit yourself. hold the flower in your left hand by its stem and recite the first two lines: "sweet pea, sweet pea, your petals unlock." [illustration fig. : - "sweet pea, sweet pea, your petals unlock."] [illustration fig. : - "i turn two down and you're a peacock."] then as you reach around to the back of the flower with your right hand and put your thumb on one curled petal, x, and your first finger on the other curled petal, y (fig. ), finish the rhyme: "i turn two down, and you're a peacock." and at the same time turn these petals down as they are in fig. . you will see right away that the turned-down petals at the sides are the wings, the upright petal at the back is the tail, and the closed middle part is the body. the tipped-up point of the body part makes a very good head for the little sweet-pea peacock. [illustration: fig. - the blossoms of the cultivated snapdragon are large.] snapdragon--lady's head and lion's head the magic that turns a blossom of the large, cultivated snapdragon into a little lady's head, upon which rests a dainty, ruffled sunbonnet, or into a ferocious-looking lion's head, is the magic of pen and ink, not of rhyme. [illustration: fig. - the snapdragon lady's head.] [illustration: fig. - the snapdragon lion's head.] the blossoms of the cultivated snapdragon are very much larger than those of its wild cousin, called by some people butter-and-eggs, but the cultivated flowers grow on a stalk in the same way as the wild ones. you would hardly recognize the cultivated flowers as snapdragons because of their size and wonderful colors. a sure test is to pinch one; if it opens its mouth it is a real snapdragon; if it doesn't it is not; but you must know how to pinch it, else it may refuse to snap. the illustration (fig. ) shows a stalk of the cultivated flower, and looking at the blossoms in that position you can see neither the lady's head nor the lion's, yet they are there. lady's head pick a blossom off its stalk, leaving the little stem attached, and turn it around until you discover the sunbonnet and see that it looks like fig. , then with pen and ink draw eyes, nose, and mouth on the part under the bonnet that is the face. this part is white, while the sunbonnet is sometimes a dainty pink and sometimes a gorgeous scarlet or orange, with deeper color on the edges. lion's head turn another blossom upside down and the crown of the bonnet becomes the lower jaw and beard of the lion, while the other part is the lion's face. on the face you must make two fierce eyes like those in fig. . when you take hold of the lion's jaws at the back and pinch them he will open his great, wide mouth as if to send out a tremendous roar, only to snap it shut again without a sound as you stop pinching. fig. shows how to hold the flower to open the lion's mouth. the pink snapdragon is best to use for the lady's head and the orange-colored one for the lion's. if you would rather call it a dragon's head, you can, you know, but it looks more like a lion. chapter xvi miss hollyhock's garden-party [illustration: fig. - miss hollyhock gives a garden party.] when miss hollyhock gives a garden-party the scene is a gay one. all the ladies, and you can have as many as you want, are in their freshest, crispest summer gowns. there are dainty pink ones, white, rose-colored, and deep red; there are light yellow and orange; there are gowns almost brown and others almost black, but whatever the color of the skirt the waist is always green. green waists are the style where miss hollyhock lives, and she and all her friends follow the style very closely. [illustration: fig. - cut the pistil out of the flowers.] the hats these little ladies wear to the party are of the same silky material as their skirts and are usually of the same color, though sometimes a lady in white will appear in a pink or yellow hat, or a pink lady can be seen wearing a white hat, and the lady in rose knows how well she looks in a hat that is almost black. when there are two or more gowns of the same color the hollyhock ladies prefer to have different colored hats so that they will not all look alike. fig. shows how miss hollyhock and her friends are made from the flowers of that name. when you have gathered the flowers you must cut off the stem of each close to the green calyx which is miss hollyhock's waist, and then cut out the pistil which grows inside the blossom. this pistil is shaped something like a little club, and is covered with the yellow grains of pollen (ask some one what pollen is). it looks like fig. . the pollen will make the flower wilt quickly. that is why it is best to take the pistil out. [illustration: fig. - this is the way to make miss hollyhock.] now select a nice, round, hard, green bud for a head and leave its stem on for the neck. turn the sharp point of your scissors around in the top of the hollyhock calyx to make a little round hole, then push the stem of the bud into the hole, screwing it round and round until the bud almost, but not quite, touches the calyx. if you push it all the way down your lady will have no neck; her head will grow directly out of her shoulders. [illustration: fig. - miss hollyhock's tea table.] [illustration: fig. - teapot and cups for the hollyhock tea table.] wooden toothpicks are used for legs, arms, and support, but strong broom-straws will answer as well, or straight, slender twigs. push three toothpicks, twigs, or broom-straws up into the centre of the flower, two in front and one at the back as you see them in fig. . the dotted lines show where they go inside the blossom. be sure to have all three the same length so that the little lady will stand firmly. the arrows on fig. show where to insert the arms. cut sharp points on the broom-straws to make them slide in easily. blunt ends will tear the flower. with pen and ink make the eyes, nose, and mouth on the head, and use a petal of another hollyhock for a hat. pin the hat to the top of the lady's head with a pin or short broom-straw. a garden-party would not be complete without a tea-table make the tea-table of the hollyhock's round cake of unripe seeds which most children call a cheese. this is covered with a green case which is easily taken off and then you have a round, white disk like a little table-top turned up at the edge. select the largest one you can find and push the ends of three toothpicks or broom-straws into the under-side for the table legs (fig. ). now the tea-table must have a teapot and cups find a green bud for a teapot shaped like z (fig. ). push two short straws into the bud in the places shown by the arrows in z (fig. ), one for the spout and one for the handle. cut the tops off smaller buds to make them into teacups (a and b, fig. ). a drop of paste at the bottom of the teapot and the cups will keep them in place on the table. chapter xvii daffodils dancing flowers and whirligigs daffodils, yellow as sunshine, always come with the beautiful springtime. the blossoms of the single daffodils, with their tall, golden cups resting in the saucers of lighter-colored petals, are the daintiest, though both single and double are so like a song of cheerfulness it is a joy to have them near. they look as if they wanted to dance for sheer happiness and, wonder of wonders, you can actually make them dance. [illustration: fig. - the daffodil dancer.] [illustration: fig. - the daffodil animal.] gather a few of the single daffies, leaving on them the very short stems which hold them to the main stalk. these little green stems will be the stiff ornaments at the top of the dancers' green caps when you turn the flowers upside down, which is right side up for the dancers. daffodil dancers to make a flower stand alone and give it feet to dance on, push three wooden toothpicks firmly up under the little yellow skirt into the centre of the blossom. it doesn't matter if a flower has three feet; like an insect, it may have more than two and it won't stand on two. spread the bottom ends of the toothpicks out a trifle like a tripod to make the flower stand steady (fig. ). when you have made several dancers, stand them on a tin tray, and they will be a group of "daffy-down-dillies just come to town," arrayed in their best gowns and ready to take part in the dance. tap the tray gently from underneath and the dancers will begin to move. tap a little harder and they will begin to dance. tip the tray slightly forward and they will dance toward you; tip it backward and they will dance away again. [illustration: fig. - daffodil stalk for you to turn into a whirligig.] [illustration: fig. - the whirligig.] a daffodil animal queer little animals that come only from daffy land can be made of the single daffodil-blossoms. take one of the flowers and carefully cut away the outstanding petals, leaving the perfect, long cup. hold the cup in your left hand with the short, green stem hanging down; the stem is the animal's head; then break off about half an inch from the blunt ends of four wooden toothpicks and use the longest parts for legs. push the pointed ends of the tooth pick legs up into the under-side of the long, slender cup as it is held in your left hand. keep the legs of an even length and the animal will stand firmly. this little fellow, with his green head and long green nose, is very comical (fig. ). he can dance on the tin tray too, and run about when you tip it. the daffodil toys will keep their color a long while even after the blossoms are dry. do not take off the brown calyx which is lightly wrapped around the bottom of each flower. it represents the hair of the dancers and the ears of the animal. the whirligig you can have some fun with the daffodil stalk, too, after taking off the flowers. fig. is a daffodil stalk; look at it closely, then look at fig. . they are really the very same though they appear to be so different. one seems to have a blossom at the top, and you know that the other has not. if you want to do the trick and make a stalk blossom, select a stalk like fig. , hold the stem closely between your open hands and roll it rapidly by first sliding your right hand forward while the left slides backward, then the left forward and the right hand back. this makes a whirligig of your stalk, and the flower will appear at the top as you see it in fig. . try making whirligigs of other kinds of stems; of grasses, twigs, and leaves. _part v_ seed-vessels chapter xviii seed-vessel playthings when the flowers have gone then come the seed-vessels, equally as good for playthings but very different. of course, you know the rose-haws, the little red and yellow and green apples that you find on the rose-bushes in the fall. they are the seed-vessels of the rose, and every rose which is allowed to remain on the bush until it fades and falls apart leaves a seed-vessel to take its place. [illustration: fig. - rose-haw apples for your doll's table.] [illustration: fig. - the bronze-green rose-haw.] [illustration: fig. : - this necklace is made of rose-haws and plantain lily seed pods.] the doll's fruit piece the rose-haws look very much like little apples. rosy-cheeked baldwins, yellow harvest-apples, and greenings, and they will make a fine fruit-piece for the centre of your doll's table. pile them up on one of the toy dishes and put the smallest of green rose-leaves around the edge (fig. ). rose-haw necklace but the rose-haws can be used for something besides toy apples; you can pretend they are jewels and string them for a real necklace. one necklace can be entirely of the haws and another like fig. , which is made of bronze-green haws (fig. ), and the long, green seed-pods of the plantain (fig. ). the blossoms of the plantain are pale purple or lavender, and hang from the stalk as the seed-pods do. they are bell-shaped and about an inch long. the leaf is like a lily-leaf. [illustration: fig. - the long, green seed pods of the plantain lily.] [illustration: fig. - the seed pod earring.] as you see, the haws and seed-pods are strung alternately; first a haw, then a seed-pod, again a haw and so on. thread your needle with strong thread and be sure the thread is long enough for the necklace. measure it around your neck, letting it droop as much as you wish; then allow several inches at each end for tying. if you cannot find the large, brownish-green haws use yellow or red ones, but the green haws, when strung with the green seed-pods, are more beautiful. [illustration: fig. - this necklace is made of barberries and plantain lily stalk.] [illustration: fig. - a branch of the barberry bush.] seed-pod earrings to match the necklace, make long, green earrings of the plantain seed-pods. fig. shows a seed-pod earring. you see it is strung on a thread and the ends of the thread are then tied to form a loop. the loop must be just large enough to fit comfortably over your ear, and when you wear the earring, the green jewel will hang down and dangle delightfully. the upper end of the seed-pod should almost touch your ear. [illustration: fig. - make the earring in this way.] necklace of barberries and plantain-stalk plantain is very useful in making jewelry because you can use the stalk as well as the seed-pods. fig. is a necklace made of the plantain-stalk cut in short pieces, all the same length, and the coral-red berries of the barberry-bush. the crooked branches of the barberry-bush grow very close together and are covered with thorns which stand out straight and sharp like pins. that is why it is so often used for hedges; nothing can get through it without being terribly scratched. from the branches the red berries hang down like coral drops. fig. shows the way they grow. to make this necklace, string first a piece of the plantain-stalk, pushing the needle through lengthwise, then string a barberry and again a piece of the green stalk; after that a barberry. keep on in this way until the necklace is as long as you want it. [illustration: fig. - maple seed vessel used as bird wings.] the berries are exceedingly pretty strung as you see them, hanging down in their natural way, and really, you cannot string them any other way. the upper part of the berry is the only part through which you can pass your needle because of the large, hard seed which fills the space below. plantain-stalk and barberry earrings how to make the earrings to complete this set of jewelry is shown in fig. . first you string a piece of the plantain-stalk, then a barberry; then you put your needle back through the stalk and tie the thread at the top. after that you make the loop to put over your ear as you did in making the seed-pod earring. birds of maple-tree seed-vessels you see it is not only the seed-vessels of flowers that can be turned into playthings. the trees also furnish abundant material for toys. [illustration: fig. - maple seed vessel bird.] gather the winged seed-vessels that fall from the maple-trees, fig. is a maple seed-vessel, and let us sit on the dry, sun-warmed grass and turn them into odd little birds like fig. . these birds are very near the size of our ruby-throated humming-birds, a trifle larger perhaps, but they do not in the least resemble the beautiful, jewel-colored, long-beaked wild bird, either in looks or habits. however, they are nice, tame, quiet little birds and never object to being handled, played with, and placed on any bush or low tree where you may happen to want to put them. you cannot say that of the humming-bird, can you? you will need two seed-vessels for each bird. divide one through the centre, separating the two wings, and use one of these wings for the body of the bird, as you see in the diagram fig. . clip off the two corners of the square end where the arrows point to shape it like a bird's head, then carefully bend up the seed-vessel pair of wings, and fit the body down in between them, resting it on the centre part that holds the wings together. one or two stitches with needle and thread, passed through wings and body, will keep them close and secure. [illustration: fig. - bird's body.] when your bird is finished (fig. ), thread a needle with black thread, tie a good-sized knot in the end of the thread, and push the needle from underneath up through the back of the bird where it will come out between the wings. draw the knot up close to the body and tie the other end of the thread to a low branch of a tree. when you stand off a little distance you cannot see the thread and your bird will seem to be hovering in mid-air. a gentle breeze will stir the bird and make it look as if flying. if there is no breeze, you can blow on it, or fan it until the little thing flutters about almost as if alive. be careful to string the thread through the bird at a place that will make it evenly balanced. chapter xix buckeye horse and buckeye rider all children love the clean, glossy, brown horse-chestnuts or buckeyes. there are so many buckeye-trees in ohio that it is called the buckeye state, and many villages of long island are full of them. they are used for shade-trees and often line the streets, where they send down showers of their nuts, pretty but not good to eat. everywhere the children gather basketfuls and take them home to play with, and in other beard books we have told of some things that can be made of buckeyes, but the buckeye horse and rider which you see here have just arrived. he is a very remarkable-looking horse with his funny round head and stiff legs and tail, though not more remarkable than the little man who rides him. both are made simply of buckeyes and slender twigs. the head and body of the horse and of the man are buckeyes. the neck, ears, tail, and legs of the horse are smooth, straight twigs; the neck, arms, and legs of the man are also twigs. the buckeye horse when you make a horse let the light-colored part of the buckeye be his face. this part usually has a dark spot on it which looks like an eye. you will see it in fig. . he will have only one eye unless you put in another with lead-pencil or pen and ink, but very frequently horses are blind in one eye, so it will not matter whether he has two eyes or one. stick two short pieces of twigs in the head for ears and a longer twig for the neck. you will have to sharpen the ends of the twigs to a point so that they will go in easily. the neck twig will need sharpening at both ends. before putting the head on the body of the horse, which should be as large a buckeye as you can find, push in four twigs for the legs. the front legs must slant forward, the hind legs slant backward. this will make him stand firmly. then choose a slender twig for the tail, and split it several times at one end to show that it has hair on it, as in fig. . fasten the tail on and then push in the neck twig. this finishes the horse. [illustration: fig. - he is a remarkable looking horse.] the buckeye man for the body of the man who sits astride the horse, choose a buckeye which is rather flat on one side. a round buckeye will roll off. find a small buckeye for the man's head and give him a twig neck (fig. ). do not make his twig arms stand out straight at his sides; push them in slantingly so that he will hold them out in front. put his twig legs in far apart and slant them a little forward. now place the man on the horse, and if he does not fit, change the position of his legs until he sits securely. your buckeye man and buckeye horse will then look like fig. . pine-cones. pine-cone forest of course you like to gather the rich-brown pine-cones that lie scattered on the ground under the pine-trees; we all do. collect a number of those which have loosened and opened out their little leaf-like scales, then stand them up like trees in an open space on the ground. they look so much like toy trees we immediately want to play we are foresters, way off in the wild western lands, planting forest-trees for uncle sam. [illustration: fig. - the buckeye horse and rider.] we can make our forest as large as we want it and plant trees every day if we like, or we can gather up our nice, clean, dry cones and take them into the house to use in some other way. they make nice playthings. a fruit-and-vegetable market if you find small, short cones, not fully opened out, notice how much they look like little pineapples; you must save these for our fruit-and-vegetable market, where we sell fat, short acorns as hazelnuts, the long acorns as pecans, and the buckeyes, or horse-chestnuts, all shiny, dark, and smooth, as eggplants, and rose-haws as apples. there are other things in our store, too. string-beans, which are really locust-pods, and heads of white cauliflower made of bunches of the wild carrot or queen anne's lace blossoms, tied together so that the pretty white flowers of the wide-spreading clusters lie evenly with edges touching. a number of these clusters are used for one head of cauliflower, and around each head are arranged green leaves with their tops cut off just as you see them around the real vegetable. cone card-rack save one of your fine, large-sized, wide-open cones and make a card-rack of it like the one shown in the photograph fig. . [illustration: fig. - card rack and pin box combined.] you must have a small, round or square wooden box for the base and glue the flat bottom of the cone on the lid. the box can be filled with small brass clips for holding sheets of paper together, or with pins, and it will then make a fine birthday or christmas present for some one. the cone card-rack is very useful on a writing-desk. if you make a number of these cone-racks they will be something new for your next fair. remember to stick some pretty cards in each rack. christmas-tree ornaments perhaps you would like to keep some of your cones for christmas-tree ornaments; they make very pretty ones. gild several until they shine like gold, then silver others, and they will look as if covered with white frost. if you have collected any of the prickly sweet-gum balls that look as if they were carved in little starry patterns, gild and silver these, too, and let them dangle from the tree on long gilt or silver cords. these natural, outdoor ornaments are not easily broken, and may be kept from year to year for your christmas tree. chapter xx burdock-burrs the little house of burrs now let us build a little woodsy house of burrs (fig. ) and put it in a little garden. gather two heaping handfuls of large-sized burdock-burrs, small ones are not strong enough, and begin building. these burrs grow on a bush; they are about the size of a marble, are almost round, are prickly, and are pinkish at the top. make the roof first (fig. ). stick ten or twelve burrs together in a row with pink heads all pointing in the same direction. place this row on a flat, smooth surface, a board, flat stone, table, or, perhaps, the hard earth, and attach another row of burrs along the side edge of the first row. continue to add more burrs until you have six or seven rows fastened into one flat piece. be sure that this piece does not bulge out or sink down in places, for the roof must be perfectly flat. make the two side walls (figs. and ) and the back wall of the house as you made the roof; the back wall must be the length of the roof and the height of the side walls (fig. ). the side walls must each fit on the ends of the roof and be high enough to look well. the front wall of the house must have a doorway and a window (fig. ). but first make it solid, exactly like the back wall and exactly the same size, then lay it down on the flat surface that you are using for a table, and open a hole for the doorway by taking out five or six burrs, counting from the bottom up, and two or three burrs, counting from side to side. that will make about ten or twelve burrs to be removed. take out the burrs for the window and make the opening three or four burrs high and two burrs wide. (see fig. ). use four burrs for each side of the hollow square chimney (fig. ), which is open at top and bottom. [illustration: fig. - the little woodsey house of burdock-burrs with ornamental trees of grass.] to put the different parts of the house together lay the roof down flat and stick the edge of the back wall on top of the outer row of burrs which forms one of the long edges of the roof. fasten one side wall on one short edge of the roof in the same way and press the edge of the back wall and the edge of the side wall together, making the corner firm and square. next attach the second side wall, and lastly fit in the front wall. [illustration: fig. - roof of house of burs.] [illustration: fig. - chimney of house of burs.] [illustration: fig. - side wall of house of burs.] [illustration: fig. - back wall of house of burs.] [illustration: fig. - side wall of house of burs.] [illustration: fig. - front wall of house of burs.] now lift the house carefully, place it right side up on the ground, and adjust the chimney to the roof. as you work keep the picture of the house in front of you so that you may see at a glance whether you are building it correctly or not. if you cannot find large burrs, let the sides and the roof of the house be two layers of burrs stuck firmly together. make a path leading up to the door of very small shells, sand, or fresh earth. [illustration: fig. - cat-tail for little pond made of timothy-grass.] [illustration: fig. - cat-tail held upright by burdock-burrs.] pond, with water-lilies, in the garden would you like to have a little pond near the house, with white water-lilies floating on its surface and wee cattails growing here and there in and near the water's edge? you can easily make such a pond. sink a shallow pan in the ground, a hole must be dug to fit it, you know, and fill the pan with water. cover the edges with moss or earth and plant short-stemmed heads of timothy-grass (fig. ) and slender, stiff grass-blades in scattered groups near the water. it is timothy-grass that looks so much like cattails, and also the grass called foxtail. [illustration: fig. - the play water-lily made of a white clover floating on water.] [illustration: fig. - cut leaves for the water lilies from a maple leaf as shown here.] some of the cattails can be made to look as if they were growing in the pond if you make a flat-bottomed ball of burrs around the ends of the stems to hold them upright (fig. ), and put some small stones on top of the ball to weight it down in the water. for the little water-lilies select perfect white clover-blossoms (fig. ), and for the leaves, or lily-pads, use any rather small, smooth, round leaves. the marsh-marigold leaf will answer, or you can cut out water-lily leaves from oak or maple. make them the shape of the pattern fig. . the pattern here is laid on a maple-leaf ready to cut out a leaf for the water-lily. make a number of lilies and float them and the leaves on top of the water. [illustration: fig. - pea-pod canoe.] [illustration: fig. - cut open the pea-pod along dotted line.] a pea-pod canoe you might add a pea-pod canoe (fig. ), with a tiny american flag standing proudly erect at the bow. when you make the canoe, open the pod where you see the dotted line in fig. . to keep the pod open make little braces of broom-straws, and put them in crosswise with one end against each side of the canoe. there are four braces in the canoe (fig. ), but you may not need that many. the trees in the picture given here the tree on the left of the little house of burrs is just two stalks of the common grass called meadow muhlenbergia, which are held up as if really growing, by several green burrs left from building the house. the burrs are squeezed up tight to the grass-stems and then pressed down tight to the ground. you can find the grass for these trees almost any place; it is very social and loves to make its home with other grasses. [illustration: fig. - burdock-burr target.] the graceful, drooping tree on the right of the house is made of the grass called brome-grass. keep your eyes open and you will find it some time while playing out-of-doors. as soon as you see it, run to the brome-grass and whisper its name. you will be glad to discover it and will remember its name afterward whenever you see the grass. look at the picture again and notice the odd plants near the brome-grass tree. their name is bermuda-grass. see how they spread out their long, slender fingers. they look very much like a grass named the small crab-grass, and another the large crab-grass, and like another still called the wire-grass; but if you put all these side by side and examine them closely you will see how they differ. burdock-burr game besides making things of burdock-burrs, you can play a game with them. the game is something like archery, only, instead of shooting arrows at a target, you throw burrs at it. get a good-sized piece of woollen cloth or some kind of material with a rough surface to which the burrs will cling. tack this up on the fence or on a board; then, with a large piece of chalk that will make a wide mark, draw four circles, one inside the other like fig. . it doesn't matter if your circles are not perfect. do the best you can and finish your target. number the spaces between the circles , , , . the outer space is , the next, , next to the centre , and the centre . the centre, being the bull's-eye, counts most. [illustration: fig. - hold the burr this way when you throw it at the target.] have ready a lot of burrs for each player; mark a boundary-line on the ground, beyond which no one must step in throwing the burrs, and, standing at the boundary-line, let each player in turn throw three burrs at the target. the burrs that stick to the target make the score if they are in the numbered spaces. fig. shows how to hold the burr. suppose one burr sticks to the space numbered , and the two others are in number , the player would then have two ones and one two which, added together, make four; her score then would be four. always pull the burrs of one player off the target before the next player takes her turn, and there will be no question as to who should claim them. after each player has had three turns, let every one add up her scores. the player who has the highest wins the game. if divided into sides, the players on the side having the highest score are the winners and they should be given a hearty cheer by the losing side. even very little girls and boys should learn to be good losers and to help celebrate the victory of others. chapter xxi things to make of english-walnut shells nuts are the seed-vessels of the nut-trees; did you ever think of that? they do not grow only that we may have something delicious to eat. they ripen and fall on the ground, where some of them take root and grow up into trees themselves. if you plant a hickory-nut a little hickory-tree should come up, and it will if the conditions are all right. if you plant a walnut it will be a walnut-tree that will appear; so you see a nutshell is the seed-vessel of the nut-tree. english walnuts do not grow wild in this country, but are cultivated here and you all know what the english walnut is like. our american walnut is very hard to crack; its shell is rough and deeply grooved, but the english-walnut shell is smooth and without sharp edges, though its surface is uneven. there is a shallow groove running round the shell, like a seam, and the shell cracks open along this seam evenly and easily. to open an english walnut the easiest way to open an english walnut so that the shell will be in two perfect halves is to push the tip of a penknife-blade into the groove at the large end of the nut, and then slowly and carefully turn the knife to pry the halves apart. when opened this way the shell is never broken (fig. ). after you have opened several nuts and taken out the kernels, use the knife to cut away the thin, papery divisions inside the shells. you will then be ready to make the professor and one half-shell is to be his head. draw a face on the shell like the face of the professor (fig. ). the narrow part of the shell is his chin, the wide part, the top of his head. he has an intellectual forehead, high and broad, with furrows of thought showing plainly on it. [illustration: fig. - this is the way to open the shell.] the professor's robe as a rule professors wear black robes when they wear any, but our nutshell professor wears white because it is more becoming to his dark complexion, and because it is more effective and draws attention to him. [illustration: fig. - the english walnutshell professor.] [illustration: fig. - the professor's robe.] to make the robe, fold an oblong piece of white paper into a square, which makes the square double. the edges should measure about four inches. if you have a large white envelope cut off one end to make it square and use that. fold the square diagonally across from point to point, as is shown by the dotted line in fig. . now turn back first one side point, then the other side point, and make them meet over the first fold to form a fanlike pleat, wider at the bottom than at the top. the dotted lines on either side of the middle one in fig. show where the folds should come. the middle fold is bent out, or toward you; the side folds are bent in, or away from you. the side points now extending toward you are the wide, flowing sleeves of the professor's gown. take the robe in your hand at the bottom point, holding it from the back, and on the top point hang the professor's nutshell head (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - the nutshell mouse.] [illustration: fig. - ear for the mouse.] while the head balances quite securely on the point, you can make it wag from side to side, make it shake and tremble when the professor grows very earnest in his discourse, and make the chin thrust itself forward when he is emphatic. you do all this merely by shaking and tipping the paper robe. he is an amusing little lecturer, this english-walnut shell professor, and seems very much alive. english-walnut shell mouse it is a far cry from a lecturer to a little mouse, yet one english-walnut shell will make both, half a shell for each. this is a nice, cosey-looking little mouse who crouches down comfortably and does not show his legs (fig. ). the point of the shell is the nose of the mouse; above it make two round, black eyes and then paste on two brown-paper ears. cut the ears like fig. , bend back the little stems at the bottom, put a touch of paste on each stem and stick the ears to the mouse's head in the position shown in fig. . cut a piece of string about three inches long for the tail and paste one end of it on the inside edge of the shell at the large end. [illustration: fig. - the nutshell thimble box.] [illustration: fig. - tie a ribbon around the nut.] if you make three of these mice and glue them to a piece of cardboard they will look very cunning. or you can glue one mouse to a small card and use it for the top of a christmas pen-wiper. english-walnut shell thimble-box a pretty way to give a small present at christmas or on a birthday is to put it into an english-walnut shell box. a thimble fits in the box beautifully (see fig. ). open the shell of an english walnut in the way described (fig. ). cut away the inside partitions and, with jeweller's cotton, make a soft little bed in one-half of the shell. press down the cotton in the middle to make a hollow, and in this hollow fit the new thimble. put a layer of cotton over the top of the thimble and tuck in the edges. the way to close the box is to cover the edges of the other half-shell with glue and then fit it on the half that holds the thimble, just as it was before you opened it. now you have a whole nut again, but the meat inside is very different from that which you took out. you can gild the nutshell after the glue has hardened or leave it as it is. its own brown color is pretty enough. in either case you must have a piece of narrow ribbon to tie around the box and form a loop by which to hang it (fig. ). pass the ribbon under the small end of the nutshell, then bring it up and tie it securely at the top of the large end. the ribbon should not be over the seam but should pass across the middle of each half-shell. it will then hold the two parts together and keep the glue from loosening. after the ribbon is tied at the top of the nut, make a long loop above it and tie again in a bow-knot. _part vi_ vegetables chapter xxii things you can make of lima beans [illustration: fig. - the lima bean fish will swim.] [illustration: fig. - the pod for the fish must be open at the bottom.] vegetables are good to eat, certainly, and you know what they are like when cooked and on the dinner-table; but many are also good to play with. you can make fine toys of them, toys that are entirely different from any you have ever seen. here is the swimming fish made of a lima-bean pod a fish that really swims, not on top of the water but in it, is the little fish (fig. ). you won't find that in a shop or anywhere else, for i have only just discovered how to make it myself. a paper tail and two paper fins must be added, but that won't take five minutes when you know how to do it. the tail and fins make it wonderfully lifelike, for when the fish swims around in a big basin or dish-pan, the tail sways this way and that, the fins move back and forth exactly as they do on a living fish in a real lake or in the great ocean. [illustration: fig. - the fin of bean-pod fish.] [illustration: fig. - tail of bean-pod fish.] choose a good, firm bean-pod, one as flat and even as you can find, open it carefully along the straight edge and take out the beans. save the beans, for you can make something of them too. do not let the pod close again after the beans are out. it must be open about half an inch, or maybe a little more, at the middle. you can widen the opening by pushing your finger in. be careful not to split it along the upper edge. it should be like fig. , which shows the opening at the bottom. with the small blade of a pocket-knife make a slit on each side of the pod at the large end where it is marked c in fig. . [illustration: fig. - the lima bean man will stand.] these slits are to hold the fins. directly on the curved edge of the small end of the pod, at the place marked d, cut another short slit. don't let it reach the lower edge. this is to hold the tail. from writing-paper, not the very heavy kind, cut two fins like fig. . double the paper and cut out both at once so that they may be exactly alike. from the same kind of paper cut the tail like fig. . all you have to do now is to push the sharp point of one paper fin into the slit on one side of the pod, the other fin into the slit on the other side of the pod, and the sharp point of the tail into the slit in the edge of the pod, and there is your fish. you see the fins and tail are not pasted on and they really seem a living part of the fish. notice that the top of fins and tail are different from the bottom, and be sure to have the top edge up when you put them in the slits. [illustration: fig. - parts of lima bean man] the way to make the lima-bean fish swim is to place it, open edge down, in a large basin of water; then with a stick or spoon begin at the centre to stir the water gently and gradually round and round until it all moves faster and faster, and keeps on moving after you stop stirring. then your little green fish will swim. round and round the basin he will go, his tail waving and his fins moving so naturally you will shout with delight. if at first the fish insists upon turning over on his side and floating about like a dead fish, don't give him up. he is only playing 'possum. he _can_ swim and he _will_ if you are patient and keep setting him upright until he gains his balance and becomes used to the water. remember to put the fish _in_ the water, not on top. don't let the beans, that you have taken out of the pod when making the fish, get dry and hard. they can be turned into a lima-bean man three beans and several strong, straight broom-straws you will need for making this comical little fellow, who, upright and independent, stands squarely on his own feet. that is a good thing for any one to do, let alone a little bean man (fig. ). the beans should be of different sizes. a large one for the body, next in size for the feet and a smaller one for the head. some beans have a little point that stands out on one edge and looks like a tiny nose, while below it there is a round hollow that looks like a little open mouth. that is the kind of bean to choose for the little man's head. the broom-straw for mr. bean's arms should be quite four inches long, if he is to be four inches tall. cut one end of this broom-straw slanting to a point like e in fig. , and push the point through the upper part of the body bean and out far enough on the other side to make the arms of equal length; then bend one arm up at the middle where the elbow should be, and the other arm down as you see them in the drawing of the man (fig. ). the broom-straws for the legs must be two and a half inches long and cut pointed at both ends, for one end of the leg is pushed into the lower part of the body bean and the other end into the half bean which is the foot. split the foot bean in half to make two feet and push the leg straw into the rounded side. the flat side is the bottom of the foot. [illustration: fig. - the beans are not taken out of the pod for the lima bean pig.] a short piece of broom-straw, hardly an inch long, is the neck. cut this straw pointed at each end, push one end into the top of the body bean and the other end into the lower part of the head bean. use one-half of the outer skin, that comes off the foot bean when you split it, for a hat. being curved like a rose-petal, it fits the head very nicely, but a drop of paste on the little man's head will make it more secure. your lima-bean man may be a farmer and own a lima-bean pig --a funny pig with fat sides and a turned-up snout (fig. ). look over all your bean-pods that still have beans in them, and select the one shaped most like fig. . do not take the beans out of the pod; they make the pig fat and solid. the stem end forms the snout and the head. [illustration: fig. - choose a bean-pod shaped like this for your pig.] cut four broom-straws about one and a half inches long for the legs. sharpen each of these straws at one end and push the pointed end into the lower part of the body, two on each side, in the places shown by small rings on fig. . from part of another bean-pod cut two ears like f, fig. , and pin them on the pig's head with a short straw as they are shown in the picture of the pig. run the straw through one ear near the bottom, through the head and then through the other ear on the other side of the head. [illustration: fig. - make these of a bean-pod or of paper.] pull a narrow strip from the edge of a bean-pod for the tail (g, fig. ). curl it by drawing it lightly over the blade of the scissors. punch a small hole with the point of the scissors in the upper edge of the pig's back at the place marked by the arrow on fig. , and push one end of the tail into the hole. make small round dots with a pencil, or pen and ink, for the eyes. the ears and tail may be made of paper if you find that easier to use. chapter xxiii sweet-potato alligator and what to make of a radish if you have ever seen an alligator, a long-tailed sweet potato will make you think of one immediately. fig. is a baby alligator with a sweet-potato body and paper head and legs. it is just the size of the little alligators they sell for pets down in florida. that is, the alligator from which the drawing was made is the size of the live ones; the drawing is, of course, smaller. [illustration: fig. - the baby alligator made of a sweet potato.] [illustration: fig. - find a potato shaped like this for the alligator.] find a potato shaped like fig. . cut a slit in the large end and two slits on each side where you see them in fig. . when you make the side slits push your knife in with the blade slanting upward and backward for the front legs, and slanting downward and backward for the back legs. this will allow the paper legs to slide in without bending. [illustration: fig. - make the alligator's head like this.] [illustration: fig. - cut two front legs by this pattern.] [illustration: fig. - make the two hind legs by this pattern.] use brown paper, as near the color of the potato as you can get, for the alligator's head and legs. make the head like fig. , cutting along the heavy lines and bending along the dotted ones. bend down the sides of the head and of the neck, then bend the head first up, then down, to lift it above the neck (fig. .) the eyes of a baby alligator are large and prominent. draw them on the head as you see them in fig. . that is as near as we can come to the real eyes. [illustration: fig. - the radish imp is a decorative little fellow.] cut out of the same paper used for the head two fore legs like fig. , and two hind legs like fig. . slide the fore legs into the slits nearest the large end of the potato and the hind legs into the slits near the tail. push the point of the paper neck into the slit at the large end of the potato. that finishes the baby alligator, which is wonderfully true to life. what to make of a radish a crisp, fresh, clean radish is very tempting, but don't eat it this time; turn it into something else by the magic your ten fingers can work. the radish imp fig. shows a round white radish which, with its long, slender root and leaves still on it, has been changed into a queer little radish imp by using strong broom-straws to stiffen his leaf arms, his leaf legs, and his leaf body. his eyes are bits of broom-straw, his mouth is a slit with a broom-straw tongue, and his absurd, stand-out ears are also pieces of stout broom-straw. the root growing out of the top of his head is like a chinaman's queue standing on end with little, crinkly separate hairs at its base. [illustration: fig. - cut two broom-straws for the arms and two for the legs.] when you make your radish imp cut two broom-straws about four inches long for his arms; point these at the ends. cut two more strong broom-straws a little longer than the distance between the radish and the tips of the two longest leaves. point these at both ends (fig. ). now choose two leaves of even length, nearest the radish, for the arms. don't take them off but push a broom-straw through each leaf, first in, then out, then push the other end of the straw into the thick part of the stems just under the radish. look at fig. and see how this is done. [illustration: fig. - white mouse.] [illustration: fig. - these belong to the mouse.] the leaves with the longest stems must be used for the legs. if there are more than two long-stemmed leaves, cut off all except those wanted for the legs. bend the long, stout broom-straws at one end, as in fig. , and push the other end up through the thick part of the stems and into the radish; then with a piece of string or strong blade of grass tie the stems of the leaves to the straws, as shown in fig. . this forms a little belt at the waist-line. leave a large leaf with short stem loose at the back for a cape and run the bent ends of the long straws in and out of the leaves intended for the feet. cut a curved slit in the radish for a mouth and push in a small piece of broom-straw for a tongue, then put in bits of straw for eyes, nose, and uplifted ears. a white mouse you can make a most amusing little white mouse of a white radish; not a round one like that used for the imp, but egg-shaped, like fig. . the long root is the tail of the mouse and the other end of the radish is his head. cut two paper ears like h, fig. . make two slits in the head and slip the pointed ends of the ears into the slits. for whiskers (all mice have whiskers) find two sprays of fine branching broom-straws (i, fig. ), cut them the proper length, and push a spray into the head on each side of the nose. put bits of broom-straw in for eyes and then cut four thick straws like j, fig. , and push the pointed ends slantingly in the lower part of the radish for the feet of the mouse. his legs are not seen because he is crouching. the drawing of the mouse shows where to put the feet. chapter xxiv green-pea toys and a green-pea design press your thumb on the rounded edge of a fresh, fat green pea-pod, and, pop! it goes splitting open at the top. then push your thumb into the opening, run it down the pod and the two halves separate, showing a row of fine, large peas that look like great green pearls in a soft, silk-lined case made expressly for them. [illustration: fig. - the green pea greenies, cousins of the brownies.] you have done this ever so many times when helping mother, haven't you? and you know that the next thing to do when the pod is open is to run that same little thumb down again and scoop out all those round green peas, letting them fall with a patter into the pan in your lap. now as a reward for such helpfulness suppose you ask mother or the cook to give you a good big handful of peas which have not been shelled, and ask also for some wooden toothpicks such as are used in the kitchen for fastening meat together; or a number of nice, straight, strong broom-straws if there are no wooden toothpicks. take all these out on the porch if the day is fine and sit down comfortably to make the remarkable things which i am going to tell you how to make. it is a good plan to have a box and its cover to hold the shelled peas and their pods, but it does not really matter except that the round peas are apt to roll away and get lost if you put them in your lap. [illustration: fig. - parts of the greeny girl and how to put them together.] the greeny girl the little green-pea greenies, cousins of the brownies, shown in the illustration are funny, aren't they? but the drawing is not as funny as the real greenies, and you can make them in all sorts of absurd positions. two little men and a widely smiling greeny girl are given here (fig. ). the large green peas that come late in the season are used to make these little people. in fact, it is only the large peas that can be used for any of the things described. fig. shows how the greeny girl is put together. her arms, legs, and neck are made of broom-straws. her body and head are green peas. her dress is one end of a pea-pod and her feet are bits of a pea-pod cut the shape you see in fig. . first cut short pieces of broom-straws for the legs and point them at both ends so that they will be easy to push into the peas and pods. cut another piece the same length, pointed at the top end for the support. push the legs and support into the large pea used for the body as you see them in fig. . now cut another piece of broom-straw pointed at both ends for the neck and push one end into the pea you have selected for the head. [illustration: fig. - begin the tent in this way.] [illustration: fig. - the greenies' pea-pod tent.] cut off the stem of a large pea-pod, leaving the little leaves at the top, which were the calyx of the pea-blossom, for a collar, and then cut the pea-pod dress the proper length to fit the little woman. when that is done put the dress on over the headless body and push the lower end of the broom-straw neck in at the top, down through the collar, and into the pea which forms the body. with a pin make a hole on each side just under the collar and push a broom-straw arm in each of the armholes you have made. bend one straw in the middle, as in fig. , to give the bent elbow. last of all cut two three-cornered feet like the one in fig. from a pea-pod and push a foot on the end of each leg. turn the toes in and the little figure will look very comical. to give her a face, dip a pen in black ink and make two round eyes in the head, a round nose, and a wide mouth turned up at the corners. the pen must be pushed through the skin of the pea to do this. when the greeny girl stands up, her dress hides the support at the back so that it cannot always be seen, and she looks as if she stood on her two feet just as you stand on yours. the greeny men the illustration (fig. ) shows how the greeny men are put together. the little dancing fellow must have two supports because one foot is lifted. the tiny ridiculous cap on the head of the other man is the little cap that holds the pea to the pod and sometimes clings to the pea after it is shelled. pea-pod tents the greenies' little tents are made of pea-pods and it takes three pods for each tent. after you have taken out the peas split the pods up along the back edge, but leave the two halves fastened together at the stem. stand up two pods by pushing the stem end of one pod between the two halves at the top of the other, as they are shown in fig. . then separate the halves of the third and longest pod and place it astride the first two (fig. ). this will make quite a strong tent, and, if you like, you can have a whole camp of them. the green-pea house the greenies need not always live in tents. like other people, they can have houses as well. it is best to use the wooden toothpicks in making the house. they are stronger than broom-straws and all the same length. begin by putting the front of the house together. make the peak first. choose a large pea, push the end of a toothpick into it, then not far from that push in the end of another toothpick slantingly so that the lower ends will be separated as you see them in fig. . on each of these lower ends stick a pea like fig. . that is the peak for the roof. now make a long upright for each side by using a pea to join two sticks (fig. ), and push the upper end of each upright into the peas at the lower ends of the peak (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - begin the peak in this way.] [illustration: fig. - stick a pea on the lower ends of each toothpick to finish the peak.] shorten two toothpicks by breaking half an inch off each of them, then join them as you did the uprights by pushing one end of each stick into a large pea (fig. ). this is the front joist or crosspiece of the upper floor of the house, and you must fit it in between the two uprights of the front by pushing the ends of the crosspiece into the peas at the middle of the uprights (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - the long upright.] [illustration: fig. - add the uprights to the peak.] [illustration: fig. - this is the front joist.] [illustration: fig. - fit the joist in between the two uprights.] [illustration: fig. - the back of the house.] the back of the house is made in the same way with a third upright added which runs down through the middle from the point of the peak to the bottom of the house. this third upright is made by shortening two toothpicks and joining them with a pea, then fitting them in between the pea at the top of the peak and the pea at the middle of the crosspiece. a whole toothpick with the upper end pushed into the lower part of the pea at the middle of the crosspiece finishes the long upright (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - the greenies' little house.] when the front and back are made all there is to do to finish the frame of the house is to put in the crosspieces to hold them together. fig. shows all these crosspieces or joists. one crosspiece between the two peas at the top of the front and back peaks for the ridge-pole (k, fig. ), one on each side between the peas at the bottom of the peaks (l and m), one at each side between the peas at the ends of the front and back crosspieces (n, o), and one between the two peas at the middle of the front and back crosspieces (p). [illustration: fig. - the first bar of the fence.] [illustration: fig. - this is the frame of the house.] now you have the frame of a two-storied house or a house with only an upper story, but it needs a roof and a floor. split some of your pea-pods in half and lay one at a time across the ridge-pole at the top and the crosspiece at the bottom of the peak. put half of a pod on one side of the peak, half a pod on the other side of the peak, then another half pod on the first side, and the next one on the second side, and so on until the space is covered and the house is roofed in. the stem ends of the pods must be up. the stems lock together and hold the roof in place. make the loosely laid floor also of the split pea-pods, putting them across from front to back. [illustration: fig. - push in two uprights.] your little house (fig. ) now looks like those which strange people in far-away, hot countries build for themselves. they have no lower story or what we call a first floor, but are lifted on posts far above the sometimes very damp ground, and out of reach of any wild animals that may be prowling around. the fence you can make a fence to put around the house in this way: push a large pea on each end of a whole toothpick like fig. , then break a toothpick exactly in half, stick one end of each half into the lower parts of the peas to form uprights, and push the lower end of each of these uprights into another pea as shown in fig. . for the slanting crosspiece stick one end of another toothpick into the upper pea at the left-hand side, and the other end into the lower pea at the right-hand side (fig. ). add a toothpick between the two lower peas, and one section of the fence is finished (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - put in a slanting crosspiece.] [illustration: fig. - the finished section and the way to begin a new section of the fence.] begin another section by sticking one end of a toothpick into a new pea and the other end into the upper pea at the left side of the section you have just finished (fig. ), then put in half a toothpick for the upright, a pea on the bottom of that, a whole toothpick for the slanting crosspiece, and another whole toothpick for the bottom. in this way you can keep on adding section after section and make your fence any length. to turn a corner all you have to do is to push the toothpicks which form the upper and lower crosspieces of a new section in at the back of the top and bottom peas of an end section of the fence. the tropical plant you will notice that in the illustration there is a plant growing at the side of the house which looks something like a cactus and adds to the tropical, or hot-country look of the little greeny people's home. [illustration: fig. - draw curves like these for the design.] [illustration: fig. - the green pea design.] seven half pea-pods are used to make this plant, four to stand up and three to lie down flat. wrap and tie the stem ends of the four half pods together with a bit of string. push a toothpick for a flower-stem through the middle of the bunch. cut away the stem of a pea-pod, then cut off the calyx, or circle of little leaves, with the knob below attached. this is to be the blossom of the strange plant. stick the flower on its toothpick stem, knob down, as you see it in the picture. to make the plant stand firmly lay the three extra half pods down flat with the stem ends one on top of the other and the outer ends at equal distances apart, and force the toothpick flower-stem through the pods where they cross. these three flat pods make a base which holds the rest of the plant upright, while they look as if they were a part of it. a pretty design of green peas this is not a toy, but you will like to make it just the same, and afterward, perhaps, you will want to try another design all by yourself. if you can draw at all, with a soft pencil make some curves on a piece of white paper like fig. , only ever so much larger, then a straight line up from the centre. the distance between the two largest curves at their widest part should be about eight inches. if you cannot draw these curves, ask some older person to do it for you. [illustration: fig. - do not open the pods wide.] lay your paper with the pattern drawn on it flat on the table before you, shell some peas and carefully place them on the pencil lines of the curves. begin with the largest peas at the centre of the design and finish with the smallest at the ends of the curves. fig. shows how this is done. put the first pea on the curve at the place shown by the arrow in fig. . you won't be able to keep the peas in place unless you stick them to the paper with paste. hold the tube of paste in your left hand, squeeze out a very little, take it off the tube with one of the peas and push the pea, paste side down, onto the paper where it belongs. when the peas are all placed on the curves open two pea-pods as you did for the greenies' tent, slide one pod between the two halves of the other, and with a little paste on the stem ends and the tips, fasten them in the middle above the curves of peas as they are shown in fig. . the two halves of each pod are not opened wide but are like fig. . above the pods, on the straight, upright line, place four more peas, beginning at the bottom with a large pea and ending with one much smaller. the success of this design will depend upon making one side just like the other and in keeping it equally balanced. that is, one side must not sag down below the other and the pods at the top must fit exactly on the line, half on one side, half on the other. the peas, you see, do not touch each other, but are separated by little spaces, and the spaces are all of the same length. chapter xxv corn-husks and corn-cobs how to make american history seem real--our first thanksgiving let us play that we are really celebrating america's first thanksgiving! you can see one of our long, rude puncheon tables spread out in the mild, sweet air of indian summer, laden with delectable dishes of clam chowder, oysters, fish, turkey, duck, goose, venison pasties, turnips, dumplings of barley flour, corn bread, wheat cakes, pumpkin pies, grapes, plums, great flagons of cider, and "all manner of tasty eats." william bradford, our good governor, with his old flintlock in hand, is just returning from a successful hunt for additional wild turkey. we shall need these, as ninety friendly indians are to be our guests for three days and nights. later they, too, will hunt and bring us wild deer. elder brewster, in his festive doublet and hose, has stopped a moment to speak to master bradford. sitting at table, you can see captain miles standish with arms outstretched in glad welcome as he calls more indians to join the feast, while massasoit, the mighty chief, stands at the table signalling with his arrow for the braves to approach. already quadquina and hobomok are at the festive board, seated between captain miles standish and john alden. squanto, who tells the boys how to trap game and teaches settlers how to plant corn, is resting on the ground with his feather-bedecked shield in one hand, and the calumet, or pipe of peace, in the other. [illustration: the first american thanksgiving dinner in the year .] now winsome priscilla alden comes, bearing on a pewter platter one of her savory hot baked turkeys, and her friend, mary chilton, is watching the delicious stew which simmers in the big iron pot over the outdoor fire. [illustration: fig. - begin to make the pioneer in this way.] mistress brewster, on her way to cut pumpkin pie, must needs stay her steps a moment to give ear to governor bradford's remarks, and desire minter is hurrying forward, ahead of the other young women, to serve the men at the feast. all this would be told you by one of the little corn-husk pioneers shown in the photograph if only they could speak. [illustration: fig. - fold the husks across the centre.] at all events, they can stand alone. they can be made to sit down, too, and their arms can be bent in any position. you may lift and place them in various parts of the grounds at pleasure. you might even imagine them to be the real characters they represent, and so live over again that thanksgiving of . the making of these little people is most interesting. use the rather soft between-layers of corn-husks; about two husks for each pioneer. if the husks seem brittle, soak them in water and make them pliable. lay one husk partially over the top of the other (fig. ), bend them across the centre (fig. ), and let the smoothest side be the front of the doll. fold each side of the front to the back until the front somewhat resembles fig. ; then wind slender, soft string around to form the neck and head of the doll. wind another soft string around lower down for the belt-line (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - the head and neck are made.] [illustration: fig. - wind the waist with string.] [illustration: fig. - arms for the pioneer.] make the arms of soft corn-husk (fig. ) by turning the lengthwise edges of the husk inward again and again, until the roll is of the desired size. cut off the ends evenly and wind the arms with string at the centre and near each end. run the small blade of a penknife through the shoulders of the doll from side to side. turn the blade flat side uppermost and allow it to remain in this position while you slide in the arms and screw them through the opening, pushing them along on top of the flat side of the blade. when in place, withdraw the knife and your little woman will be ready for her costume. [illustration: fig. - the pioneer is ready for his costume.] to make the man, cut fig. up from the bottom to within a short distance of the belt, thus dividing the husk skirts into two equal parts. wind each half with string at the top, middle, and near the end to form the legs (fig. ). use black tissue-paper for the loose knee-trousers. cut [illustration: fig. - first leg of the trousers.] [illustration: fig. - the trousers are pushed into shape and coat is ready for its belt.] two strips of the paper, fit one strip over a leg (fig. ), push the paper up on the inside until it resembles fig. , then fasten in place with strong paste. make the other trouser leg in the same way (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - pattern of pioneer's collar.] [illustration: fig. - make the hair of paper fringe.] [illustration: fig. - crown of pioneer hat.] [illustration: fig. - glue the hat crown on the man's head.] [illustration: fig. - how to slash the hat brim.] cut the coat from a folded piece of dull-green tissue-paper, and just at the neck make a hole large enough for the man's head to slip through (fig. ). paste the front edges of the sleeves over the back edges and lay the front edges of the coat over those of the back. fit the coat in at the belt-line with your fingers. cut a black belt of tissue-paper, fold it lengthwise, and belt in the fulness of the coat, then paste the belt ends together. be careful to make the belt loose, for men's waists are large. make the collar (fig. ) of white paper and fasten it around the man's neck with a drop of paste in front. from black, brown, or drab-yellow tissue-paper cut a strip of fine fringe and paste it on the man's head for hair (fig. ). then make his hat. to do this, roll a small square of stiff black paper into a cornucopia to fit the man's head, paste the edges together, and trim off the corner which hangs down at the bottom (fig. ). glue the hat-crown on the man's head, cut off the sharp top peak, and tilt the crown back a little (fig. ). now cut a disk of the black paper for the hat-brim, slash it across the centre into four points (fig. ), but only just far enough to make the opening fit over the hat-crown. slide the brim on the crown, allowing the slashed central points to lie up against it, and fasten them there with paste (fig. ). glue the pioneer's feet into holes cut part-way through a small piece of the corrugated flat pasteboard used for packing purposes. in this way the little man becomes independent and able to stand alone (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - the pioneer is fully dressed and wearing his hat.] the corn-husk women also wear tissue-paper clothes. the waists are made in the same manner as the men's coats, only shorter and confined at the belt-line with paste. straight dress skirts are slipped over the waists, and held in place at the belt by winding string around the pinched-up gathers. long, severely plain white aprons, minus strings, are pasted to the waist-line, and white-bordered black caps and large white three-cornered neckerchiefs complete the costume. the cap is a straight piece of black tissue-paper with a narrow strip of white folded over the front edge. when ready, the white-bordered black strip is laid over the head, smoothly brought down on the sides, puckered together at the back and tied around the neck with a string. you have only to clip loose the outside layer of white close to the string at the neck-line to give the flare to the cap's white border. the crisp dress skirt forms sufficient support to enable the little women to stand alone. with the exception of squanto, whose manly chest, back, and arms have no covering, the indians wear suits of tan tissue-paper made on the same principle as the white men's costume, only the trouser-legs are narrow, long, and have the seam cut in fringe and run up on the outside. the bottom edge of the coat and the sleeve seams are also fringed. the coat is not wide and no belt is worn. pieces of colored tissue-paper adjusted blanket fashion over the indians, and fastened here and there with bits of paste to hold them in place, form the indian blankets. the indians' hair is merely a strip of black tissue-paper pasted over the top, back, and sides of the head with the ends loosely twisted and allowed to hang down in front on either side. [illustration: governor bradford, priscilla, chief massasoit and elder brewster. made of corn-husks.] the war-bonnet is cut from a strip of white writing-paper, the tips of the feathers are inked, and one end of the strip is then pasted around massasoit's head, as shown in the picture. it is best to make a number of corn-husk people at one time. put the two husks together for each pioneer and indian, then wind a string around the neck of each to form the head (fig. ). again tie a string around each at the belt-line (fig. ). continue making the people in this way, step by step, until all are finished at the same time. have ready as many arms as you have people, and run the arms through each, one after another. when bending the arms or legs of the little people do it slowly and gently. if they are inclined to spring back, tie them in position overnight and they will stay bent. when dressing the dolls, cut out all the men's collars at one time. you can do this by cutting through as many layers of paper as there are men. adopt the same plan with the other parts of clothing for the men, women, and indians, and your work will be rapid. with ink draw features on all. the women must have ink hair, parted in the middle. remember when making miles standish to cut his hair of red paper, for he had auburn hair. the "sad" colors worn by the pioneers were really the cheerful autumn hues, rich, dull reds, greens, browns, and yellows. these will give you quite a variety of colors for the costumes of both men and women. make the puncheon table of a flat, narrow piece of wood. with a gimlet bore holes through the board, slanting them toward the centre, one hole near each corner. any kind of round sticks will do for the legs. cut them all of the same length and glue one in each hole. [illustration: pioneer puncheon table spread for america's first thanksgiving dinner.] the pewter dishes are made from one of the collapsible lead tubes used for oil-paints and various other things. cut open the empty tube and smooth it out flat, then cut out round pieces for plates, mould the plates over the tops of wooden spools, and the flagons over a pen-handle or other round stick. make the flagon-handles of slender strips of the tube bent into rings, and slip one end of the strip over the edge of the flagon. a piece of yellow paper pasted over the cover of a very small baking-powder can makes a pumpkin pie. the turkey is merely pinched-up paper with brown tissue-paper laid smoothly over the breast. its wings and legs are of bits of lighter-colored paper rolled and bent into shape, then pasted on the turkey. [illustration: fig. - corn-cob log for pioneer log cabin with notches cut and marked.] fresh, green, uncooked corn-cobs from which the corn has been cut and scraped make delightful pioneer log-houses. cooked cobs are too hard to cut. choose slender cobs, long ones for the front and back of the house, shorter ones for the sides. cut a notch, or saw it, if the cobs are dry and hard, on the tops of the ends of each of the two foundation logs (fig. ). cut a notch on both top and bottom of each remaining log as indicated by the black lines in fig. . always make a larger notch in the small end of the cob than in the large end, so that the large end of another cob may fit in it; for, when building, it is necessary to place small ends and large ends together, and never two large ends or two small ends, or the house will be unevenly balanced. lay the two foundation cobs down parallel to each other and a short distance apart; then bridge across the ends with shorter cobs, fitting the notches into each other. continue building in this log-cabin fashion until the house is of sufficient height. on the front of the house draw two straight lines down across the cobs, one for each side of the doorway. then take your house apart and cut the doorway out from the marked cobs. rebuild the house, gluing layer upon layer. make the doorway jambs of straight pieces of corn-stalk, and glue them on each side of the open doorway. [illustration: pioneer log cabin made of corn-cobs.] before the roof can be added, corn-cobs, graduated in length and without notches, must be laid at each end of the house to support the roof and give it its gable ends. these graduated cobs are the "trap-logs." they rest upon long strips of corn-stalk, called "ribs," which are placed across from one end of the house to the other. build the roof log-cabin fashion as you built the body of the house, laying a rib between the ends of each layer of graduated cobs, and as you build, fasten the parts together with glue. cut enough clapboards of corn-stalk to cover both sides of the roof. make them all of the same length and long enough to reach from the top of the roof to a trifle beyond its lower edge. the clapboards must be held down by means of "weight-poles" laid across, and to keep the weight-poles from rolling off use pegs called "knees." make the knee-pegs of corn-stalk. cut a hole near both ends of four of the clapboards and glue in pegs, slanting them upward. you will then have two pegged clapboards for the front of the roof and two for the back. place them near the ends of the roof and glue all the clapboards in place. cut four slender lengths of corn-stalk for weight-poles, and lay them across the roof, resting against the knee-pegs. glue them to the roof only where they buck the knee-pegs. when finished, set the house aside until the glue is entirely dry. it may then be moved. corn-tassels standing in empty spools make fine trees. it is fitting that the story of our country's first thanksgiving should be retold this year by means of corn. you remember, of course, that friendly indians showed the pioneers how to plant and cultivate corn, which, to them, was a new grain. later, when a wonderful harvest had been gathered, our forefathers decided to set aside a day to thank god for his goodness. that was the first thanksgiving. part vii fruit chapter xxvi the funny orange head you will hardly believe it is only an ordinary, everyday orange when you have made it into the head that i am going to tell you about. select a small, firm, perfect orange and with a pencil mark features on it, first the eyes like fig. . carefully cut out the little spaces of skin between the lines, then mark the nose (fig. ); cut this and mark the mouth (fig. ); cut this and at each side of the head draw the ears like fig. . you will see that the line of the ear does not continue all the way around; that means that you are simply to run your knife along the line, cutting through the skin so that the ears may be lifted up and peeled forward to stand out from the head; the front part remains attached (fig. ). make the neck of a slender, strong, round stick sharpened to a point at one end. push the point up into the under part of the orange, where the neck should be, by twisting the stick around as it goes in (fig. ). the orange is the head, but your hand and fingers are to be the body and arms to go with it. look at fig. . that will show you how to hold the stick firmly and at the same time leave your first finger and thumb free to use as arms. [illustration: fig. - eyes marked on orange head.] [illustration: fig. - eyes cut, nose marked.] [illustration: fig. - ear marked, ready to cut and peel forward.] [illustration: fig. - nose cut, mouth marked.] [illustration: fig. - mouth cut, ears cut and peeled forward.] pin a handkerchief, or other soft cloth, around mr. orange's neck, bring it around to cover your hand and then pretend he is talking while you move his arms and say as many funny things as you can think of. by moving the stick while you hold it in your hand, you can make the orange head turn in various ways (figs. and ), and a little paper hat fitted on it will make it still funnier (fig. ). [illustration: fig. - hold the orange this way.] the orange need not always be a man. you can play it is a little girl and make a cunning little wreath of flowers for her small head; or pretend it is a baby and have it wear a baby's cap made of paper. if you want to turn it into a young lady, pierce the ears and fit in earrings made of violets. you do this simply by threading the flower-stems through the holes you have pierced, and drawing the blossoms up close to them. then, you can make believe the orange is an old man and put a pipe in his mouth. make the pipe of an acorn with a twig for the stem. if you want the baby to cry, squeeze the orange a little and tears of orange-juice will roll from its eyes and stream down its face. little holes must first be punctured in the eyes to let the tears run out. [illustration: fig. - "now i'll tell you a funny story."] things you can make of orange-skins a toy japanese stool the soft, golden orange-skin, lined with silvery white, is fine material for moulding and making into different kinds of things to play with. bring your orange and we will begin by making a toy stool for your doll-house (fig. ). it will look very much like the real stools which the japanese make for real people to sit on, though nothing is used for it but the orange-skin. [illustration: fig. - "can't remember what i was going to say."] first cut the orange across from side to side, making two halves, and after you have taken out the pieces of juicy fruit and enjoyed eating them, examine the two pretty yellow orange-skin bowls that are left. see how soft and pliable they are. now take one of the bowls and pinch the edges of two opposite sides toward each other; hold them steady while, with your other hand, you pinch the other two sides toward each other. hold all four sides bent inward for a moment, then let go of them and the sides will stay bent while you wind string across, first one way then the other, between the curved stool legs you have just made by bending the sides of the bowl inward. [illustration: fig. - "what a joke."] [illustration: fig. - japanese stool made of half an orange peel.] set the stool away to dry and stiffen into shape; then, when it has become hard, take off the string and you will have a little japanese stool quite as strong as if made of wood. a candy-box a candy-box can be made in the same way of the other half of the orange-skin, but you must curve the sides in only a little for this; not nearly as much as for the stool. stand the candy-box, with open part up, ready to be filled with candy. a basket an orange-skin basket is a substantial little affair when finished, and will hold almost anything you want to put in it. it looks like fig. . for this you will again need half of an orange-skin. bend in two opposite sides after first cutting a short slit in each side near the edge. make the handle of strong paper, cutting it like fig. , with a tongue at each end. bend over the two side points of each tongue, and slide one tongue through the slit in one side of the basket, the other tongue through the slit in the other side, then open out the points again and they will make secure fastenings for the handle. you will see from the illustration that the tongues are put through the basket from the inside and show on the outside. before setting away to dry, tie a string around the bent-in sides of the basket, and stuff the open part with crushed paper to keep it in shape. [illustration: fig. - half of orange skin used for a basket.] [illustration: fig. - make the handle of paper.] orange-skin bowls when you have another orange save the two halves of the skin, pack each full of crumpled, clean, blank paper, flatten the bottom of the bowls so that they will stand firmly, then set them away to dry. if you do all this carefully the bowls will harden in good shape and you can use them to eat and to drink from. [illustration: fig. - a little summer house made of half of an orange skin.] other things made of orange-skins cunning little toy summer-houses may be made from an orange-skin in a moment's time (fig. ). take half of an orange-skin and stick the sharp ends of four wooden toothpicks into the edge of its rim. place the toothpicks upright, at equal distances apart, and they will form the pillars to support the golden, dome-shaped roof. stand the little summer-house on the table, and you will think it charming. by slicing an orange you can have a number of little, yellow hoops for your dolls, made of the rind around each slice. when the hoops are carefully dried in perfect circles, you can roll them on top of a table or on the floor, and play the dolls are having great fun racing with their orange-skin hoops. chapter xxvii apples and apple fun when the apple-trees are in bloom, stand under one and look up through the wonderful tent of flowers at the little bits of blue sky peeping down at you between the blossoms. isn't it delightful to see so many, many apple-blossoms all at once? how beautiful they are and how sweet they smell! now, pick one little blossom and examine it carefully. count the pretty pink-and-white petals. five petals? yes. look again, see how they grow from the centre and notice their shape. be very particular, so that you will remember exactly how the blossom looks; make sure you know, for i am going to tell you about the flower you can find inside the big, ripe apple after all the other apple-blossoms are gone. apple-blossom in apple cut the apple into thin slices from side to side through the core. take one of the slices from near the middle of the apple and hold it up to the light, so that the light will shine through it, then look carefully and you will see in the centre a perfect pattern of the apple-blossom you gathered from the tree (fig. ). apple-seeds form the centre of the flower. the petals, five in number, are of the flesh of the fruit. they are of the same shape and size as the real blossom. isn't it wonderful? [illustration: fig. - apple blossom inside of the fruit.] [illustration: fig. - design begun on apple slice.] [illustration: fig. - design pierced through apple slice.] now, take the seeds from their hard, glossy cases, again hold the slice up to the light and lo, in the centre of the slice, you will find a five-pointed star which twinkles as the light shines through. you can add to this and make a pretty, shining pattern in this way: take a wooden toothpick, and with its pointed end pierce little holes all along the edge of the flower pattern; then make a loop of little holes above one of the petals (q, fig. ), and still another above that one (r, fig. ). pierce the edges of all the petals and make the same kind of double loops above them also, then the design will be like fig. . hold it up to the light, turn it this way and that and your slice of apple will look as if spangled with glittering diamonds. fig. shows a wheel design which you can make of another slice. [illustration: fig. - another design on apple slice.] apple candle in its candlestick when i was a little girl i used to make apple candles that stood up in their own candlesticks. i always ate the fresh, juicy slices as i cut them off. fig. shows how the candles look when finished. the stem is the wick, and as it is usually dark at the end, it is a very good imitation of a candlewick that is partially burnt. the dotted lines on fig. show how to cut away the apple to leave the candle and its holder. [illustration: fig. - apple candle ready for table.] [illustration: fig. - cut away apple leaving candle in candle-stick.] first cut off a slice at the blossom end, so that the candle-stick will stand without tipping. the dotted line at the bottom of fig. indicates where this cut is to be made. then run your knife around the apple without cutting all the way through to the core, where you see the middle dotted line on fig. . after that, begin at the sides and gradually shave down the upper part little by little, being careful not to cut below the slit you have made around the apple. when the middle part standing up around the core is the size of a real candle it is time to stop cutting. because of the core inside you cannot make your candle very slender, but you can cut off the sharp edges and make it round. a roasted apple another thing i used to love to do with my apple when i was a little girl was to tie a long string to the stem and hang it before an open fire to roast. i think you will enjoy it too. tie one end of the string securely to the stem of your apple, and don't break the stem off in doing it (fig. ); then tie the other end to something heavy on the mantel-shelf that will hold it securely. the apple should hang in front of a grate of glowing coals, or near the red-hot coals of a wood-fire. [illustration: fig. - roast your apple this way.] as soon as cooking begins, twist the string and make the apple spin round and round so that it may be roasted evenly on all sides; it is fun to do that. when the juice begins to run and drop from the apple, set a saucer under to catch the hot, sweet syrup. it is good poured over the apple when that is thoroughly cooked. add sugar to the juice while it is hot if it is not sweet enough. the spice apple in new england, many years ago, there was always to be found in every household at least one spice apple. it sounds good to eat, doesn't it? but they were not made for eating, they were used for sweet-smelling ornaments, and for keeping away moths and other troublesome insects. perhaps you will like to make a spice apple to give away; it will be a pretty and very sweet gift and will last for years. choose a small, perfectly sound apple and have ready a lot of cloves. stick the cloves into the apple as you would stick pins into a cushion, only the cloves must be put in very close together, touching each other and making the apple look like a large, prickly, brown nut. that is all, unless you want to hang the apple up. in that case run a wooden toothpick through one raised side at the top, across the little hollow where the stem grows, and out through the raised side opposite, after first breaking off the stem. cross this toothpick with another pushed through the apple and also bridging the hollow. this will make a low handle in the form of a cross. at the middle, where the toothpicks touch, tie a bright ribbon, leaving a loop by which to hang it. other things to make of an apple when an apple is cut across into round slices, you can make a doll's table of the largest slice by using four wooden toothpicks for legs, pushing them into the apple at equal distances apart. half of a slice, with halves of toothpicks for legs, makes a very suitable seat for this remarkable table. if you cut a thick flat slice from a small apple you can make it into a top that will spin by pushing a toothpick through the centre, leaving a long end on one side and a shorter end on the other. the short end is the peg upon which the top spins. take the long, upper end of the toothpick between your thumb and first finger, give it a hard, quick twist and drop the top on a table having a hard, smooth finish, where it will spin merrily. the little fruit-top will not spin on a carpet or any rough, uneven surface. the beard books for girls by lina beard and adelia b. beard handicraft and recreation for girls with over illustrations by the authors vo. $ . net an elaborate book for girls, by lina and adelia beard whose former books on girls' sports have become classic, which contains a mass of practical instruction on handicrafts and recreations. so many and so various are the things it tells how to do and make that it will give occupation to any sort of girl in all seasons and all weathers. "the girl who gets this book will not lack for occupation and pleasure."--_chicago evening post._ what a girl can make and do new ideas for work and play with more than illustrations by the authors square vo. $ . net this book is the result of the authors' earnest desire to encourage in their young friends the wish to do things for themselves. its aim is to give suggestions that will help them to satisfy this wish. within its covers are described a great variety of things useful, instructive, and entertaining, suited for both indoors and out. "it would be a dull girl who could not make herself busy and happy following its precepts."--_chicago record-herald._ the american girl's handy book how to amuse yourself and others with nearly illustrations $ . net the authors tell everything that girls want to know about sports, games, winter afternoon and evening amusements and work, in a clear, simple, entertaining way. things worth doing and how to do them with some drawings by the authors that show exactly how they should be done $ . net this book comprises an infinite variety of amusing things that are worth doing; for instance: "a wonderful circus at home," "how to weave without a loom," "how to make friends with the stars," "a living christmas tree," etc. little folks' handy book with many illustrations cents net this book furnishes the means of gratifying the impulse toward self-expression that, properly directed, is a great factor in a child's development. it opens a large field of simple handicrafts for little folk by showing how toys can be made from such ordinary things as empty spools, clothes-pins, old envelopes, etc. charles scribner's sons the beard books for boys by dan c. beard shelters, shacks, and shanties illustrated by the author $ . net he gives easily workable directions, accompanied by very full illustration, for over fifty shelters, shacks, and shanties, ranging from the most primitive shelter to a fully equipped log cabin. boys will find it an invaluable guide in constructing temporary or permanent shelters in their hikes or encampments. boat-building and boating a handy book for beginners illustrated by the author $ . net the directions for making boats are practical and illustrated by simple diagrams, and the work is full of new and suggestive ideas for all kinds of craft. the boy pioneers sons of daniel boone illustrated by the author $ . net "a book that is truly fine and will probably have a wider influence on the lives of boys into whose hands it falls than almost any other book that comes their way."--_the interior._ the field and forest handy book or, new ideas for out of doors illustrated by the author $ . net "instructions as to ways to build boats and fire-engines, make aquariums, rafts and sleds, to camp in a back-yard, etc. no better book of the kind exists."--_chicago record-herald._ the jack of all trades or, new ideas for american boys illustrated by the author $ . net "every boy who is handy with tools of any sort will enjoy this book."--_youth's companion._ "full of new ideas for active boys who like to use tools and see interesting things growing under their hands."--new york tribune. "a perfect treasure-house of things that delight the soul of a boy."--_the interior._ the outdoor handy book for playground, field and forest illustrated by the author $ . net "it tells how to play all sorts of games with marbles, how to make and spin more kinds of tops than most boys ever heard of, how to make the latest things in plain and fancy kites, where to dig bait and how to fish, all about boats and sailing, and a host of other things which can be done out of doors. the volume is profusely illustrated and will be an unmixed delight to any boy."--_new york tribune._ the american boys handy book or, what to do and how to do it illustrated by the author $ . net "it tells boys how to make all kinds of things--boats, traps, toys, puzzles, aquariums, fishing tackle; how to tie knots, splice ropes, make bird calls, sleds, blow guns, balloons; how to rear wild birds, to train dogs, and do a thousand and one things that boys take delight in. the book is illustrated in such a way that no mistake can be made; and the boy who gets a copy of this book will consider himself set up in business."--_the indianapolis journal._ charles scribner's sons * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors repaired. page , caption fig. , "burdock-burs" changed to "burdock-burrs" (house of burdock-burrs) page , caption fig. , "burdock-burs" changed to "burdock-burrs" (by burdock-burrs) page , caption fig. , same as above (burdock-burr target.) page , caption fig. , "bur" changed to "burr" (hold the burr) page , caption fig. , "ig" changed to "fig" (fig. ) page , caption fig. , "pealed" changed to "peeled" (peeled forward) recreation by viscount grey of fallodon, k.g. boston and new york houghton mifflin company _the riverside press cambridge_ copyright, , by houghton mifflin company all rights reserved * * * * * the riverside press cambridge - massachusetts printed in the u.s.a. address delivered at the harvard union december , recreation it is sometimes said that this is a pleasure-seeking age. whether it be a pleasure-seeking age or not, i doubt whether it is a pleasure-finding age. we are supposed to have great advantages in many ways over our predecessors. there is, on the whole, less poverty and more wealth. there are supposed to be more opportunities for enjoyment: there are moving pictures, motor-cars, and many other things which are now considered means of enjoyment and which our ancestors did not possess, but i do not judge from what i read in the newspapers that there is more content. indeed, we seem to be living in an age of discontent. it seems to be rather on the increase than otherwise and is a subject of general complaint. if so it is worth while considering what it is that makes people happy, what they can do to make themselves happy, and it is from that point of view that i wish to speak on recreation. let it be admitted that recreation is only one of the things that make for happiness in life. i do not even recommend it as the most important. there are at least four other things which are more or less under our own control and which are essential to happiness. the first is some moral standard by which to guide our actions. the second is some satisfactory home life in the form of good relations with family or friends. the third is some form of work which justifies our existence to our own country and makes us good citizens. the fourth thing is some degree of leisure and the use of it in some way that makes us happy. to succeed in making a good use of our leisure will not compensate for failure in any one of the other three things to which i have referred, but a reasonable amount of leisure and a good use of it is an important contribution to a happy life. how is this happy use of leisure to be ensured? we sometimes meet people who do not seem to know what to do with their spare time. they are like the man of whom it was said, "he doesn't know what he wants, and he won't be happy till he gets it." the first thing, therefore, is to take ourselves out of that category, to know definitely what we want, and to make sure it is something that will make us happy when we get it; and that is the beginning of recreation. you are entitled to say to me, "that is all very well as a general piece of advice, but tell us how you have followed and applied it yourself"; and it would not be fair for me to shrink from answering that question. in one respect i must plead failure. i have been a failure as regards golf, not because i did not succeed, but because i did not want to succeed. i have a great respect for golf. i am sure it is very good for many people; i know very many good people who play golf; but it so happens that it does not give me a good time, and so i leave the recommendation of it to people who can speak of it with more appreciation. but i do recommend some game or games as a part of recreation. as long as i could see to play and had sufficient leisure, i enjoyed immensely the game of real or court tennis, a very ancient game, requiring activity as well as skill, a game in which americans may take interest and some pride, because for the first time, at any rate, in the recent history of the game, an amateur is champion of the world and that amateur is an american. the english are sometimes criticised for paying too much attention to games. a british officer whom i know well, who happened to be in africa at the outbreak of the war and took part in the fighting there, tells me that in one of the german posts captured by the british there was found a map made by the germans and showing africa as it was to be when the war was over. the greater part of africa had become german, and there was nothing left for the british excepting a small patch in the middle of the sahara desert which was marked "footballplatz for the english." football is a national game in america as well as in england, but i do not suppose that either you or we think that our soldiers fought any worse in the war for having been fond of football. i put games definitely as a desirable part of recreation, and i would say have one or more games of which you are fond, but let them, at any rate in youth, be games which test the wind, the staying power, and the activity of the whole body, as well as skill. sport shall be mentioned next. i have had a liking for more than one form of sport, but an actual passion for salmon and trout fishing. perhaps the following little confidence will give some idea how keen the passion has been. the best salmon and trout fishing in great britain ends in september. the best salmon fishing begins again in march. in my opinion the very best of all is to be had in march and april. in october i used to find myself looking forward to salmon fishing in the next march and beginning to spend my spare time thinking about it. i lay awake in bed fishing in imagination the pools which i was not going to see before march at the earliest, till i felt i was spending too much time, not in actual fishing, but in sheer looking forward to it. i made a rule, therefore, that i would not fish pools in imagination before the first of january, so that i might not spend more than two months of spare time in anticipation alone. salmon fishing as i have enjoyed it, fishing not from a boat, but from one's feet, either on the bank or wading deep in the stream, is a glorious and sustained exercise for the whole body, as well as being an exciting sport; but many of my friends do not care for it. to them i say, as one who was fond of george meredith's novels once said to a man who complained that he could not read them, "why should you?" if you do not care for fishing, do not fish. why should you? but if we are to be quits and you are to be on the same happy level as i have been, then find something for yourself which you like as much as i like fishing. there are many other subjects for recreation. i cannot even mention them all, much less discuss any of them adequately. but i must mention for a high place in recreation the pleasure of gardening, if you are fond of it. bacon says, "god almighty first planted a garden, and indeed it is the purest of human pleasures." it is one of those pleasures which follow the law of increasing and not of diminishing returns. the more you develop it and the more you know about it, the more absorbing is the interest of it. there is no season of the year at which the interest ceases and no time of life, so long as sight remains, at which we are too old to enjoy it. i have now mentioned games, sport, and gardening. no one perhaps has time or opportunity to enjoy all three to the full. a few people may have sufficient range of temperament to care for all three, but many people--i would say most people--who have opportunity may find, at any rate in one of them, something that will contribute to their happiness. i will pass now to a subject which is more important still. books are the greatest and the most satisfactory of recreations. i mean the use of books for pleasure. without books, without having acquired the power of reading for pleasure, none of us can be independent, but if we can read we have a sure defence against boredom in solitude. if we have not that defence, we are dependent on the charity of family, friends, or even strangers, to save us from boredom; but if we can find delight in reading, even a long railway journey alone ceases to be tedious, and long winter evenings to ourselves are an inexhaustible opportunity for pleasure. poetry is the greatest literature, and pleasure in poetry is the greatest of literary pleasures. it is also the least easy to attain and there are some people who never do attain it. i met some one the other day who did not care for poetry at all; it gave her no pleasure, no satisfaction, and only caused her to reflect how much better the thought, so it seemed to her, could be expressed in prose. in the same way there are people who care nothing for music. i knew one englishman of whom it was said that he knew only two tunes: one was the national anthem, "god save the king," and the other wasn't. we cannot help these people if they do not care for poetry or music, but i may offer you one or two suggestions founded on my own experience with regard to poetry. there is much poetry for which most of us do not care, but with a little trouble when we are young we may find one or two poets whose poetry, if we get to know it well, will mean very much to us and become part of ourselves. poetry does not become intimate to us through the intellect alone; it comes to us through temperament, one might almost say enters us through the pores of the skin, and it is as if when we get older our skin becomes dry and our temperament hard and we can read only with the head. it is when we are young, before we reach the age of thirty-five, that we must find out the great poet or poets who have really written specially for us; and if we are happy enough to find one poet who seems to express things which we have consciously felt in our own personal experience, or to have revealed to us things within ourselves of which we were unconscious until we found them expressed in poetry, we have indeed got a great possession. the love for such poetry which comes to us when we are young will not disappear as we get older; it will remain in us, becoming an intimate part of our own being, and will be an assured source of strength, consolation, and delight. there is another branch of literature to which i must make a passing reference: it is that of philosophy. i am bound to refer to it here because i know two men, both of them distinguished in public life, who find real recreation and spend leisure time when they have it in reading and writing philosophy. they are both living and i have not their permission to mention their names, but as i admire them i mention their recreation, though with an admiration entirely untinged by envy. an oxford professor is alleged to have said that every one should know enough philosophy to find that he can do without it. i do not go quite so far as that. when i was an undergraduate at oxford i read plato because i was made to read it. after i left oxford i read plato again to see if i liked it. i did like it so much that i have never found the same pleasure in other philosophical writers. i hope you will not think that i am talking flippantly. i am talking very seriously--about recreation, and i feel bound to mention philosophy in connection with it out of respect to my friends, but i do not lay much stress upon it as a means of recreation. i come now to the main source of literary recreation in reading: the great books of all time on which one generation after another has set the seal of excellence so that we know them certainly to be worth reading. there is a wide and varied choice, and it is amongst the old books that the surest and most lasting recreation is to be found. some one has said, "whenever a new book comes out read an old one." we need not take that too literally, but we should give the old and proved books the preference. some one, i think it was isaac disraeli, said that he who did not make himself acquainted with the best thoughts of the greatest writers would one day be mortified to observe that his best thoughts are their indifferent ones, and it is from the great books that have stood the test of time that we shall get, not only the most lasting pleasure, but a standard by which to measure our own thoughts, the thoughts of others, and the excellence of the literature of our own day. some years ago, when i was secretary for foreign affairs in england, when holidays were often long in coming, short and precious when they did come, when work was hard and exhausting and disagreeable, i found it a good plan when i got home to my library in the country to have three books on hand for recreation. one of them used to be one of those great books of all time dealing with great events or great thoughts of past generations. i mention gibbon's "decline and fall of the roman empire" as an instance of one such book, which had an atmosphere of greatness into which one passed right out of the worries of party politics and official work. such books take one away to another world where one finds not only pleasure, but rest. "i like large still books," tennyson is reported to have said. and great books not only give pleasure and rest, but better perspective of the events of our own time. i must warn you that gibbon has been called dull. it is alleged that sheridan, a man of brilliant wit, said so, and when a friend reminded him that in a famous speech he had paid gibbon the compliment of speaking of the "luminous page of gibbon," sheridan said he must have meant to say "voluminous." if you take the same view of gibbon, find some other great author whom you do not find dull. there is a host of great writers to choose from. there are plenty of signposts to direct us to old books of interest and value. they have well-known names, and so they stand out and are known like great peaks in mountain ranges of the human intellect. the second of my books would also be an old book, a novel which had been approved by successive generations. the third would be some modern book, whether serious or light, and in modern books the choice is not so easy. there are many that are excellent, but there are many in which we may find neither pleasure nor profit. if our leisure is short we have not much time to experiment. the less spare time we have, the more precious it is, and we do not want to waste any of it in experimenting with modern books which we do not find profitable. it is worth while to cultivate a few friends whose intelligence we can respect and whose taste is sympathetic and who read, and to get from them from time to time the names of modern books which they have read and found good. i have had too little time for reading, but that my advice may not be entirely academic i will recommend you, at any rate, one good modern novel. its name is "the bent twig," the authoress is dorothy canfield, and i can tell you nothing except that she is an american, but the book seems to me one of the best pieces of work in novel writing that has happened to come under my own observation recently. there are others, no doubt, in plenty, and if you get half a dozen friends who are fond of reading each to recommend you one book as i have done, you will have provision for a little time to come. to conclude my suggestions about reading i would urge this. like all the best things in life, the recreation of reading needs a little planning. when we have a holiday in prospect we make plans beforehand so that when the time comes we may know exactly where we want to go, what we want to do, how the holiday is to be spent, and have all our preparations ready. if we do not do that the holiday finds us unprepared and the greater part of it is wasted. so with our spare time, our casual leisure. do not let it find us unprepared. it is a good plan to make a list of books which either from our own thought, our own experience, or the recommendation of friends, we feel a desire to read. we should have one or two of these books always at hand, and have them in mind, too, as something which we are longing to read at the first opportunity. i think some people lose the habit and pleasure of reading because they do not take this trouble and make no plan, and when the spare evening or the long railway journey or the wet day comes it finds them without any book in anticipation, and they pick up a newspaper or a magazine, not because they specially want to read it, but because they have nothing present to their minds or at hand which they really care for. the habit of planning ahead is essential to real cultivation of the pleasure of reading, just as essential as planning is for sport or travel or games or any of the other pleasures of life. i know friends who are fond of sport. they choose a long time beforehand the river they will fish or the sort of shooting they will pursue. another friend likes travel and plans months in advance where he will go and what he will see. without this fore-thought and planning they would not get their pleasure, and so it is with reading. if we once acquire the habit of planning, we find out increasingly what it is that we like, and our difficulty at any spare moment is not to find some book that we are longing to read, but to choose which book of those to which we are looking forward in anticipation we shall take first. i have spoken about planning for a holiday, and i will give an instance of how thoroughly president roosevelt planned for a holiday. several years ago when i was at the foreign office in london, i got a letter from mr. bryce, who was then british ambassador at washington, saying that president roosevelt intended to travel as soon as he was out of office. he was going to travel in africa, to visit europe, and to come to england, and he was planning his holiday so minutely as to time his visit to england for the spring, when the birds would be in full song and he could hear them. for this purpose he wanted it to be arranged that somebody who knew the songs of the english birds should go for a walk with him in the country, and as the songs were heard tell him what the birds were. that is a pretty good instance of thorough planning in advance for a holiday. it seemed to me very attractive that the executive head of the most powerful country in the world should have this simple, healthy, touching desire to hear the songs of birds, and i wrote back at once to mr. bryce to say that when president roosevelt came to england i should be delighted to do for him what he wanted. it is no more a necessary qualification for the secretary for foreign affairs in london than it is for the president of the united states that he should know the songs of the birds, and it is an amusing coincidence that we should have been able to arrange this little matter satisfactorily between us as if it were part of our official duties, without feeling obliged to call in experts. time passed, and when the president retired from office he went to africa and had much big-game shooting and travel there. then he came by way of the sudan and egypt to europe. the leading countries of europe were stirred to do him honour, england not less than others. he had a great reception and everywhere a programme of great and dignified character was arranged for him. european newspapers were full of it long before he got to england, and i thought this little walk to hear the songs of english birds suggested some two years previously would be forgotten and crowded out by greater matters. but it was not so. without any reminder on my part i got an intimation from the english friend who was to be colonel roosevelt's host in london that colonel roosevelt had written to him to say that this promise had been made and that he wished time to be found for the fulfilment of it. i saw colonel roosevelt once soon after he came to london. the day was arranged and at the appointed time we met at waterloo station. we had to ask the newspaper reporters not to go with us, not because it made any difference to colonel roosevelt, but because birds are not so tame, or perhaps i should say are more self-conscious than public men and do not like to be photographed or even interviewed at close quarters, and it was necessary, not only that colonel roosevelt and i should be alone, but that we should make ourselves as inconspicuous and unobtrusive as possible. so we went alone, and for some twenty hours we were lost to the world. we went by train to a country station where a motor was awaiting us. thence we drove to the little village of titchborne in hampshire, and got there soon after midday. in the village of titchborne there lives also the family of titchborne, and in the old village church there is a tomb with recumbent figures of one of the titchbornes and his wife who lived in the time of james the first; on it is inscribed the statement that he chose to be buried with his wife in this chapel, which was built by his ancestor in the time of henry the first. that shows a continuous record of one family in one place for some eight hundred years. i forget whether we had time to go into the church and look at it, but the songs of the birds which we had come to hear are far more ancient. they must be the same songs that were heard by the inhabitants of england before the romans came, for the songs of birds come down unchanged through great antiquity, and we are listening to-day, in whatever part of the world we may be, to songs which must have been familiar to races of men of which history has no knowledge and no record. i was a little apprehensive about this walk. i had had no personal acquaintance with colonel roosevelt before he came to england in , and i thought to myself, "perhaps, after all, he will not care so very much about birds, and possibly after an hour or so he will have had enough of them. if that be so and he does not care for birds, he will have nothing but my society, which he will not find sufficiently interesting for so long a time." i had relied upon the birds to provide entertainment for him. if that failed, i doubted my own resources. i need have had no fear about his liking for birds. i found, not only that he had a remarkable and abiding interest in birds, but a wonderful knowledge of them. though i know something about british birds i should have been lost and confused among american birds, of which unhappily i know little or nothing. colonel roosevelt not only knew more about american birds than i did about british birds, but he knew about british birds also. what he had lacked was an opportunity of hearing their songs, and you cannot get a knowledge of the songs of birds in any other way than by listening to them. we began our walk, and when a song was heard i told him the name of the bird. i noticed that as soon as i mentioned the name it was unnecessary to tell him more. he knew what the bird was like. it was not necessary for him to see it. he knew the kind of bird it was, its habits and appearance. he just wanted to complete his knowledge by hearing the song. he had, too, a very trained ear for bird songs, which cannot be acquired without having spent much time in listening to them. how he had found time in that busy life to acquire this knowledge so thoroughly it is almost impossible to imagine, but there the knowledge and training undoubtedly were. he had one of the most perfectly trained ears for bird songs that i have ever known, so that if three or four birds were singing together he would pick out their songs, distinguish each, and ask to be told each separate name; and when farther on we heard any bird for a second time, he would remember the song from the first telling and be able to name the bird himself. he had not only a trained ear, but keen feeling and taste for bird songs. he was quick to express preferences, and at once picked out the song of the english blackbird as being the best of the bird songs we heard. i have always had the same feeling about the blackbird's song. i do not say it is better than the songs of american birds, which i have not heard, and i think colonel roosevelt thought one or two of the american bird songs were better than anything we had in england; but his feeling for the english blackbird's song i found confirmed the other day in a book published by dr. chapman, of the natural history museum at new york. he has written a chapter on english birds and picks out the song of the blackbird for excellence because of its "spiritual quality." colonel roosevelt liked the song of the blackbird so much that he was almost indignant that he had not heard more of its reputation before. he said everybody talked about the song of the thrush; it had a great reputation, but the song of the blackbird, though less often mentioned, was much better than that of the thrush. he wanted to know the reason of this injustice and kept asking the question of himself and me. at last he suggested that the name of the bird must have injured its reputation. i suppose the real reason is that the thrush sings for a longer period of the year than the blackbird and is a more obtrusive singer, and that so few people have sufficient feeling about bird songs to care to discriminate. one more instance i will give of his interest and his knowledge. we were passing under a fir tree when we heard a small song in the tree above us. we stopped and i said that was the song of a golden-crested wren. he listened very attentively while the bird repeated its little song, as its habit is. then he said, "i think that is exactly the same song as that of a bird that we have in america"; and that was the only english song that he recognized as being the same as any bird song in america. some time afterwards i met a bird expert in the natural history museum in london and told him this incident, and he confirmed what colonel roosevelt had said, that the song of this bird would be about the only song that the two countries had in common. i think that a very remarkable instance of minute and accurate knowledge on the part of colonel roosevelt. it was the business of the bird expert in london to know about birds. colonel roosevelt's knowledge was a mere incident acquired, not as part of the work of his life, but entirely outside it. i remember thinking at the time how strange it seemed that the golden-crested wren, which is the very smallest bird which we have in england, should be the only song bird which the great continent of north america has in common with us. but points of view are different in different countries. we may find ourselves looking, not only at political questions, but at incidents in natural history from a different point of view when we are on different sides of an ocean. the other day i was in a contemplative mood not far from washington. i was thinking what a great country i was in, how much larger the rivers were and how vast the distances, and generally working up in my own mind an impression of the great size of the country. then i happened to recall this incident of the golden-crested wren, and i found myself thinking, of course, in a tiny little island like great britain, where one cannot go in an express train at fifty miles an hour from east to west or from north to south in a straight line for more than fifteen hours without falling into the sea, the only song we could have in common with a great continent like this would be the song of the smallest bird. one trivial incident there was in our walk which gave us some amusement. we were going by footpaths down a river valley, a very beautiful, but a very tame and settled country, where anything like an adventure seemed impossible. we were on a path which i had known for many years, and along which i had walked many times, not only without adventure, but without even incident. suddenly we found ourselves stopped--the path was flooded, some weeds had blocked the river close by, and instead of a dry path we had about twenty yards of water in front of us. the water was not very deep, certainly not above our knees, but i had not intended that there should be any wading in our walk nor had i prepared for it. i asked if he would mind going through the water, to which, of course, he replied that he would not. so we went through, got wet, and in the course of the afternoon got dry again as we walked. nothing of the same kind had happened there before; nothing has happened since. i think there was some magnetism about colonel roosevelt's personality which created incidents. after going a few miles down the valley we got into our motor, which was waiting at a village inn, and drove to what is called the new forest, though it is more than eight hundred years old. we were now in a country of wild heath, quite uncultivated, and the part we went through was mostly natural forest. here we heard some birds different from any we had heard in the valley of the itchen, and got to a little inn standing on the open heath about nine o'clock in the evening. we had dinner, and next morning we breakfasted together and went to southampton, whence colonel roosevelt returned to america. i am not attempting here a full appreciation of colonel roosevelt. he will be known for all time as one of the great men of america. i am only giving you this personal recollection as a little contribution to his memory, as one that i can make from personal knowledge and which is now known only to myself. his conversation about birds was made interesting by quotations from poets. he talked also about politics, and in the whole of his conversation about them there was nothing but the motive of public spirit and patriotism. i saw enough of him to know that to be with him was to be stimulated in the best sense of the word for the work of life. perhaps it is not yet realised how great he was in the matter of knowledge as well as in action. everybody knows that he was a great man of action in the fullest sense of the word. the press has always proclaimed that. it is less often that a tribute is paid to him as a man of knowledge as well as a man of action. two of your greatest experts in natural history told me the other day that colonel roosevelt could, in that department of knowledge, hold his own with experts. his knowledge of literature was also very great, and it was knowledge of the best. it is seldom that you find so great a man of action who was also a man of such wide and accurate knowledge. i happened to be impressed by his knowledge of natural history and literature and to have had first-hand evidence of both, but i gather from others that there were other fields of knowledge in which he was also remarkable. not long ago when an english friend of mine was dying, his business agent came over to see him. one of the family asked the agent whether he had come on important business. "no," he said, "i have come for a little conversation because i was feeling depressed this morning and i wanted to be made to feel two inches taller." that saying would, i think, have been specially applicable to colonel roosevelt also. he could make people feel bigger and stronger and better. and now my last discourse shall be on one sentence from colonel roosevelt which i saw quoted the other day. it is this: "he is not fit to live who is not fit to die, and he is not fit to die who shrinks from the joy of life or from the duty of life." observe that the joy of life and the duty of life are put side by side. many people preach the doctrine of the duty of life. it is comparatively seldom that you find one who puts the joy of life as something to be cultivated, to be encouraged on an equal footing with the duty of life. and of all the joys of life which may fairly come under the head of recreation there is nothing more great, more refreshing, more beneficial in the widest sense of the word, than a real love of the beauty of the world. some people cannot feel it. to such people i can only say, as turner once said to a lady who complained that she could not see sunsets as he painted them, "don't you wish you could, madam?" but to those who have some feeling that the natural world has beauty in it i would say, cultivate this feeling and encourage it in every way you can. consider the seasons, the joy of the spring, the splendour of the summer, the sunset colours of the autumn, the delicate and graceful bareness of winter trees, the beauty of snow, the beauty of light upon water, what the old greek called the unnumbered smiling of the sea. in the feeling for that beauty, if we have it, we possess a pearl of great price. i say of great price, but it is something which costs us nothing because it is all a part of the joy which is in the world for everybody who cares for it. it is the "joy in widest commonalty spread"; it is a rich possession for us if we care for it, but in possessing it we deprive nobody else. the enjoyment of it, the possession of it, excites neither greed nor envy, and it is something which is always there for us and which may take us out of the small worries of life. when we are bored, when we are out of tune, when we have little worries, it clears our feelings and changes our mood if we can get in touch with the beauty of the natural world. there is a quaint but apposite quotation from an old writer which runs as follows: "i sleep, i drink and eat, i read and meditate, i walk in my neighbour's pleasant fields and see all the varieties of natural beauty ... and he who hath so many forms of joy must needs be very much in love with sorrow and peevishness, who loseth all these pleasures and chooseth to sit upon his little handful of thorns." there is a story of a man whom others called poor, and who had just enough fortune to support himself in going about the country in the simplest way and studying and enjoying the life and beauty of it. he was once in the company of a great millionaire who was engaged in business, working at it daily and getting richer every year, and the poor man said to the millionaire, "i am a richer man than you are." "how do you make that out?" said the millionaire. "why," he replied, "i have got as much money as i want and you haven't." but it is not only in the small worries of life that we may be saved by a right use of recreation. we all realize how in the great war your nation and our nation and others engaged in the war were taken out of themselves, i was going to say lost themselves, but i ought rather to say found themselves. it was a fine thing on your part to send two million soldiers across the sea in so short a time to risk their lives for an ideal. it was even more impressive to us when we heard that in this country you had adopted conscription, and that your millions of people, distributed over so vast an extent of continent, were so moved by one public spirit and one patriotism and one desire to help the allies in the war that they were rationing themselves voluntarily with food and fuel. that voluntary action by so many millions over so great an extent of country was a tremendous example, showing what an ideal and a public spirit and a call to action can do for people in making them forget private interests and convenience and making them great. that was an example of what could be done by not shrinking from the duty of life; but you can get greatness, too, from some of the joys of life, and from none more than from a keen sense of the beauty of the world and a love for it. i found it so during the war. our feelings were indeed roused by the heroism of our people, but they were also depressed by the suffering. in england every village was stricken, there was grief in almost every house. the thought of the suffering, the anxiety for the future, destroyed all pleasure. it came even between one's self and the page of the book one tried to read. in those dark days i found some support in the steady progress unchanged of the beauty of the seasons. every year, as spring came back unfailing and unfaltering, the leaves came out with the same tender green, the birds sang, the flowers came up and opened, and i felt that a great power of nature for beauty was not affected by the war. it was like a great sanctuary into which we could go and find refuge for a time from even the greatest trouble of the world, finding there not enervating ease, but something which gave optimism, confidence, and security. the progress of the seasons unchecked, the continuance of the beauty of nature, was a manifestation of something great and splendid which not all the crimes and follies and misfortunes of mankind can abolish or destroy. if, as years go on, we can feel the beauty of the world as wordsworth felt it and get from it "authentic tidings of invisible things, of ebb and flow and ever during power, and central peace subsisting at the heart of endless agitation," then we have, indeed, a recreation which will give us, not merely pleasure, but strength, refreshment, and confidence. something of the same feeling we may get from an appreciation of great music, beautiful pictures, splendid architecture, and other things that stir us with an impression of everlasting greatness. enjoy these and cultivate the appreciation of them, but especially, if you can, cultivate the enjoyment of the beauty of nature, because it costs nothing and is everywhere for everybody; and if we can find recreation in such things as these, then, indeed, we may make the joy of life great as well as the duty of life, and we may find that the joy of life and the duty of life are not things adverse or even to be contrasted, but may be, as colonel roosevelt puts them, companions and complements of each other. [illustration: elsie's cabin.] elsie's winter trip. by martha finley, author of "elsie dinsmore," "elsie's girlhood," "mildred keith," etc., etc. new york: dodd, mead & company, . copyright, , by dodd, mead & company. _first edition published october, ._ elsie's winter trip. chapter i. "lu, dear, can you give me an early breakfast to-morrow morning?" asked chester, as they made their preparations for retiring that first night in their new home. "i think so," she returned, giving him an affectionate look and smile. "how early would you like to have it?" "about seven, i think. i have told our coachman, jack, that i want the carriage at eight. he will drive me into town and then return, so that carriage and horses will be ready at a reasonably early hour for the other three owners--our brother and sister and yourself." "it was certainly very kind and thoughtful in you to give such an order," she said with a smile, "but we would much prefer to have your company in all our drives and visits." "and i should very much like to give it to you; but there is business that should have been attended to some time ago, and must not be longer delayed." "if it is, it shall not be your wife's fault," she replied. "the cook is still in the kitchen, and i will go and give my order for a seven-o'clock breakfast." "lu, dear," chester said, on her return, "it will not be at all necessary for you to rise in time for so early a breakfast, i can pour my own coffee and eat alone." "no, you can't have that privilege while i'm your wife;" she responded, with a saucy look and smile. "i intend to pour your coffee, and see that you have an appetizing breakfast and do justice to it." "your presence will make it doubly enjoyable, dearest," he returned, putting an arm about her, and giving her a look of loving admiration, "but you must not be robbed of needed rest and sleep." "thank you, my dear husband," she replied; "but i am accustomed to early rising and it agrees with me. oh, i think i shall greatly enjoy taking early breakfast with you. isn't it delightful to begin our married life in so lovely a home of our very own?" "it is, indeed! and we owe it to your good, kind, and most generous father." "he is that, most emphatically," responded lucilla. "the dearest, best, and kindest father in the world." seven o'clock the next morning found them cosily seated at a little round table in their pretty dining-room, enjoying a delicious breakfast of fresh fruits, broiled fowl, hot muffins and coffee. these, added to good health, cheerful spirits, and a fondness for each other's society, made them a happy couple. the meal was enlivened with cheerful chat. "i am sorry you have to hurry so," lucilla said, as she filled her husband's cup for the second time. "i really think you ought to have at least a little longer holiday." "i expect to take it piecemeal, nights and mornings, in the society of my wife," returned chester, with affectionate look and smile. "i was very glad to get this case," he added, "for if i succeed with it it will bring me in some thousands." "i shall be glad of that for your sake," said lucilla; "but don't work too hard. you know you are not very strong; therefore you need to take good care of yourself." "ah, my dear, be careful how you encourage me in self-indulgence," laughed chester. "i am too much inclined that way as it is." "are you?" she exclaimed with mirthful look and tone. "i really had not found it out, but thought you one of the foolishly industrious people who will even throw away health in order to get on rapidly with their work." "and i," laughed chester, "took you for a woman of such discernment that you must have found out before this what a lazy, incompetent fellow you have thrown yourself away upon." "no; with all my discernment i have yet to make that discovery. i did not marry the fellow yon describe--but a bright, talented, industrious young man. and i wont have him slandered." at that moment a servant came in with the announcement that the carriage was at the door. "ah! jack is quite punctual, and i am just ready," said chester, pushing back his chair, getting up and going round to his wife's side of the table. "i will now take away the slanderer of your bright, talented, industrious young man," he remarked in sportive tone; "you shall be relieved of his presence until perhaps five o'clock this afternoon." before he had finished, lucilla was standing by his side, her hand in his. "oh, dear! i wish you didn't have to go," she sighed. "we have been together all the time for weeks past and now i hardly know how i can do without you." "suppose you come along then. there is plenty of room in the carriage, and in the office, and i could find you something to read, or some work on the typewriter, if you prefer that." "any time that i am needed there i shall be ready to go," she returned with merry look and tone; "but to-day i have matters to attend to about the house, and perhaps father and mamma vi may want some little assistance from me in their preparations for to-night." "yes, i daresay. what a round of parties we are likely to have to go through as part of the penalty for venturing into the state of matrimony." "yes," laughed lucilla, "but i hope you think it pays." "most assuredly. but now good-bye, dearest, for some hours--when we shall have the pleasure of meeting to atone to us for the present pain of parting." lucilla followed him to the veranda, where they exchanged a parting caress, then watched as he entered the carriage and it drove swiftly through the grounds and out into the highway. her eyes were still following it when a pleasant, manly voice near at hand said "good morning mrs. dinsmore." she turned quickly and sprang down the steps to meet the speaker. "father, dear father!" she cried, springing into his outstretched arms, and putting hers about his neck, "oh, how glad i am to see you! how good in you to come! chester has just done eating his breakfast and gone off to his business, and i haven't quite finished my meal. wont you come in and eat with me?" "ah, that would hardly do, daughter," was the smiling reply. "you know i am expected to take that meal with wife and children at woodburn. but i will go in with you and we will have a chat while you finish your breakfast." "and you can take a cup of coffee and a little fruit, can't you, father?" "yes, thank you, daughter. that would hardly interfere with the woodburn breakfast. and shall we not take a little stroll about your grounds when we leave the breakfast-room?" "i should greatly enjoy doing so along with my dear father," she answered with a smiling look up into his face, as they took their places at the inviting-looking table. she poured his coffee, then they ate and chatted pleasantly the while about family matters and the entertainment to be given at woodburn that evening. "how are max and eva this morning?" the captain asked at length. "i don't know whether they are up yet or not," replied lucilla. "you know, papa, they had not the same occasion for early rising that chester and i had." "true enough and max is fully entitled to take his ease for the present. don't you think so?" "yes, indeed, papa. i am very glad the dear fellow is having a good holiday after all he has gone through. oh, i wish he had chosen some business that would allow him to stay at home with us!" "that would be pleasanter for us, but our country must have a navy and officers to command it." "yes, sir; and so it is well that some men fancy that kind of life and employment." "and no doubt max inherits the taste for a seafaring life from me and my forebears." "father," said lulu, "you will let me be your amanuensis again, will you not?" "thank you for your willingness to serve me in that, daughter," the captain returned pleasantly, "but you will find quite enough to do here in your own house, and both your mamma vi and your sister grace have taken up your work in that line--sometimes one and sometimes the other following my dictation upon the typewriter." "oh, i am glad that they can and will, for your sake, father, but i hope i shall be permitted to do a little of my old work for you once in a while." "that is altogether likely," he said. "but now as we have finished eating and drinking shall we not take our stroll about the grounds?" they did so, chatting pleasantly as was their wont; then returning to the veranda they found max and evelyn there. morning greetings were exchanged, then evelyn, saying that their breakfast was just ready, invited the captain to come in and share it. but he declined, giving the same reason as before to lucilla's invitation. "i am going home now to breakfast with wife and children," he said, "and i hope you older ones of my flock will join us a little later." "we will all be glad to do that, father," said max. "at least i can speak for myself and think i can for these two daughters of yours. woodburn is to me a dear old home where some of the happiest hours of my life have been spent." "and you can't love it much better than lu and i do," added evelyn. "no, he can't," assented lucilla. "lovely as is this sunnyside of ours, its chief attraction to me is its near neighborhood to woodburn--the home where i have passed such happy years under my father's loving care." the bright, dark eyes she lifted to his face as she spoke were full of daughterly love and reverence. "i am very glad you can look back upon them as happy years, daughter," he said, his eyes shining with pleasure and parental affection; "and that max is with you in that. i am glad, too, that you all appreciate this new home that i have taken so much pleasure in preparing for you." "we'd be the basest of ingrates, if we didn't, father dear!" exclaimed lucilla. "i for one, feel that you have done, and are doing far more for me than i deserve." "which is nothing new for our father," remarked max with a smile and look into his father's face that spoke volumes of filial regard, respect and devotion. "and i am fortunate indeed in having children so dutiful, affectionate and appreciative," returned the captain feelingly. he then took leave and went back to woodburn, lucilla accompanying him part of the way, then returning to sunnyside to give her orders for the day. that attended to, she joined max and eva upon the veranda. "the carriage is coming, lu," said eva; "are you ready for a drive? and have you decided where you wish to go?" "yes," was the reply, "i want to go over to woodburn for a bit of a chat with mamma vi about the preparations for this evening, in which i suppose you and max will join me; and then wouldn't you like to drive over to fairview for a call upon aunt elsie?" "yes, indeed! i think she and uncle are entitled to the first call from me, much as i want to see all the near and dear ones." "i perfectly agree with you in that, eva," said max. "they have filled the place of parents to you, and i for one," he added with a very loverlike smile, "am grateful to them for it." "as i am with still more reason," added evelyn. a few moments later found them on their way to woodburn. there was a glad welcome there followed by a few minutes' lively chat, principally in regard to the coming event of the evening--the expected gathering of invited guests, relatives, neighbours and friends to welcome the return of the newly-married couples from their bridal trip. "is there anything i can do to help with your preparations, mamma vi?" asked lucilla. "thank you, lu, but they are almost all made now, except what the servants will do," returned violet, adding laughingly. "and if they were not, it would surely hardly be the correct thing to let one of our brides be at the trouble of assisting with them." "both of them would be very glad to give their help, if it were desired or needed," said evelyn. "we feel privileged to offer assistance, because it is our father's house," she concluded with a smiling, affectionate look at the captain. "that is right, daughter," he said, both his tone and the expression of his countenance showing that he was pleased with her remark. "oh, lu, i have been making some changes in the rooms that were yours, but are mine now," said grace. "papa has provided some new pieces of furniture both there and in our little sitting-room and i want to show them to you, eva and max." she rose as she spoke, the others following her example. "are the rest of us invited, gracie?" asked violet, in an amused tone. "oh, yes, indeed!" was the gay rejoinder, "father and you, elsie and ned. company that is always acceptable to me wherever i go." "and to all of us," added lucilla. "most especially so to one who has often sighed in vain for it," said max. "have you wanted us sometimes when you were far away on the sea, brother max?" asked ned with a look of loving sympathy up into his brother's face. "yes, indeed, ned; and expect to do so again before very long." they were passing through the hall and up the stairway as they talked. "oh, the dear old rooms look lovely, lovely!" exclaimed lucilla, as they passed into the little sitting-room she had formerly shared with her sister grace, glanced around it and through the open doors into the two bedrooms. "it almost makes me homesick to be living in them again." "well, daughter, you may come back whenever you choose," her father said, with a look of mingled amusement and affection. "why, lu, i thought you loved that pretty new home papa has taken such pains to make ready for you and eva and max and chester," exclaimed elsie. "yes, so i do; but this old home has the added charm of being papa's also." "yes; but the other is so near that you can see him every day, and oftener, if you choose." "and talk to him at any moment through the telephone, if she prefers that to coming over here," said the captain. "oh, yes! how nice it is that our houses are all connected by telephone," exclaimed evelyn. "father, if i may, i think i'll go to yours and speak to aunt elsie now." "certainly, daughter," he returned, promptly leading the way. "i do so like that name from you, father dear," she said softly and smiling up into his face as they reached the instrument. "and i am glad my boy max has given me the right," he returned, bending down to kiss the ruby lips and smooth the shining hair. "shall i ring and call for you?" he asked. "if you please." it was mrs. leland who answered it. "hello, what is it?" "it is i, aunt elsie," returned evelyn. "i just called to know if you were in; because if you are, we are coming over directly to make you a call." "i think i shall be by the time you can get here," was the reply in a tone of amusement. "but please don't delay, as we were about to start for sunnyside in a few minutes." "oh, were you! then we will drive over at once and accompany you on the trip." "thank you; that will be most pleasant." eva stepped aside and lucilla took her place. "yes, aunt elsie, you will be a most welcome visitor in both divisions of sunnyside. please don't neglect mine." "i certainly do not intend to," was the cheerily-spoken response, "for your half of the dwelling is doubtless quite as well worth seeing as the other, and its occupants seem very near and dear." "thank you. good-bye now till we arrive at fairview." "we would better start for that place presently," said max. "we can view the beauties of this any day. wont you go with us, grace? there is a vacant seat in the carriage." "yes, do; we'd be glad to have you," urged both eva and lucilla, the latter adding, "you have hardly yet taken a look at our new homes with us in them." "yes, go, daughter; i think you will enjoy it," her father said in reply to a questioning glance from her beautiful blue eyes, directed to him. "thank you all three," she said. "i will go if i may have ten minutes in which to get ready." "fifteen, if necessary," replied max, in sportive tone. "even that great loss of time will be well paid for by the pleasure of your good company." "a well-turned compliment, brother mine," returned grace, as she tripped away in search of hat and wrap; for the air was cool in driving. "why shouldn't elsie go too? there is plenty of room for her; and ned can ride alongside on his pony, which i see is down yonder ready saddled and bridled," said max, putting an arm round his little sister, as she stood by his side, and looking smilingly at her, then at ned. "can't they go, father and mamma vi?" both parents gave a ready consent, the children were delighted with the invitation, and presently the party set out on their way to fairview. it was a short and pleasant drive, and they were greeted with a joyous welcome on their arrival at evelyn's old home, mr. and mrs. leland and their four children meeting them on the veranda with smiles, pleasant words and caresses for grace, eva, lucilla and elsie. then they were taken within and to the dining-room, where a delicate and appetizing lunch was awaiting them. "it is a little early for lunch," said mrs. leland, "but we knew you would be wanting to get back to sunnyside soon, in order not to miss the numerous calls about to be made you by friends and connections who are all anxious to see the pretty new home and its loved occupants." "we will be glad to see them, aunt elsie," said evelyn, "and to show our lovely homes; and i can assure you that no one can be more welcome there than you and uncle and these dear cousins of mine." "and please understand that eva has expressed my sentiments as fully as her own," added lucilla in a sprightly tone. "mine also," said max. "but don't any one of you feel that this meal is to be taken in haste," said mr. leland, hospitably, "that is very bad for digestion and we may take plenty of time, even at the risk of having some of your callers get to sunnyside ahead of us." his advice was taken and much pleasant chat indulged in while they ate. "you and uncle, of course, expect to be at woodburn to-night, aunt elsie?" said evelyn. "oh, yes; and expect to have you all here to-morrow night. there is to be quite a round of parties--as doubtless you know--to celebrate the great event of your and lu's entrance into the bonds of matrimony. there will be none saturday night, but the round will begin again monday evening by a party at ion given by mamma, edward and zoe. tuesday evening we are all to go to the oaks; then after that will be the laurel's, roselands, beechwood, pinegrove, ashlands and others." "don't forget aunt rosie's at riverside, mamma," prompted allie, her nine-year-old daughter. "no," returned her mother, "that would be quite too bad, for there is no one more ready to do honor to these dear friends of ours; especially now when they have just begun married life." "ah, aunt elsie, that sounds as though you considered it something to one's credit to have left a life of single blessedness for one in the married state," laughed lucilla. "a state which i have found so pleasant that i think no one deserves any credit for entering it," was mrs. leland's smiling rejoinder. "and i have noticed," said max, "that as a rule those who have tried it once are very ready to try it again--widows and widowers seem in more haste to marry than bachelors and maids." "'marry in haste and repent at leisure,'" quoted grace, laughingly. "father takes care that his children don't do the first, perhaps to secure them from the second." "and we all have great confidence in our father's wisdom; as well as his strong affection for us, his children," remarked max. a sentiment which the others--his wife and sisters--promptly and cordially endorsed. chapter ii. immediately on leaving the table, they all--entertainers and entertained--set out on the short drive to sunnyside, where, on arriving, they found their relatives and friends from beechwood and the oaks waiting to offer their congratulations and wish them happiness and prosperity in their married life. being all acquaintances and friends of so long standing, they were shown over the whole house by the happy owners, and cordial congratulations were freely bestowed. "in view of the comforts, conveniences and beauties of the establishment, i should like to see chester and offer my congratulations on his success in winning a lovely wife, and having so delightful a home to share with her," remarked mrs. horace dinsmore, as she was about leaving. "but i can't stay longer if i am to make due preparation for attending the party at woodburn to-night," she added. "and you wouldn't miss that for something, would you?" laughed mrs. hugh lilburn. "i am sure i wouldn't." "no; for i daresay we will have a delightful time. i know no better entertainers than the captain and vi." "nor do i," said mrs. leland; "and this being so extra an occasion they will doubtless do their best." "i think they will, and i hope no invited guest will stay away or be disappointed," said grace, with a merry look and smile. "no danger of either calamity, gracie," said mrs. dinsmore. "ah, there's our carriage at the door," and with a hasty good-bye and a cordial invitation to all present to make frequent visits at the oaks, she and her husband and daughter departed. the beechwood friends lingered a little longer, as did those from fairview and woodburn. but at length grace said she thought it time to go home for, of course, there were some matters she ought to attend to in preparation for the evening. "shall i send you in the carriage?" asked lucilla. "oh, no, thank you, sister dear; the short walk will be good for me," returned grace gaily, "for elsie, too, i think, and for ned; though he, i suppose, will prefer to ride his pony." "yes, of course i will," said ned. "he needs to be taken home, anyway." they made their adieus and passed out on the veranda. a servant brought the pony up, and ned was about to mount when the little steed remarked, "i think a young gentleman might feel ashamed to ride while his lady sisters must go afoot." "you do!" exclaimed ned, drawing back with a look of mingled surprise and chagrin. "well, they said they wanted to walk--preferred it to riding; and--and besides they couldn't both ride on your back at once." "two do ride the same horse at once sometimes," seemed to come very distinctly from the pony's lips. "who is making you talk, i wonder?" cried ned, turning to look about him. "oh, brother max, it was you, wasn't it?" as he caught sight of his brother and sisters standing near. "what was?" asked max quietly. "the person making the pony talk. i almost thought for a minute it really was the pony; though, of course, ponies can't talk. and i didn't mean to be selfish. gracie won't you ride him home? elsie and i can walk just as well as not." "yes, of course we can; it's a very short and very pleasant walk," returned elsie, with prompt cheerfulness. "so gracie dear, you ride the pony." "thank you both," said grace, "but i really prefer to walk, as i have had very little exercise to-day." "there, you silly little pony, see what a mistake you made!" cried ned gleefully, as he mounted his steed. "well, little master, didn't you make a mistake, too?" the pony seemed to ask. "oh, brother max, i know it's you, so only good fun," laughed ned. "good-bye all. i'll get home first and tell papa and mamma you are coming, gracie and elsie." with the last words, he galloped down the avenue, leaving max and his sisters standing on the veranda looking after him. "doesn't he ride well?" exclaimed grace, in a tone that spoke much sisterly pride and affection. the others gave a hearty assent, max adding, "he is a dear little, bright little chap. i am decidedly proud of my only brother." "as i am of my little one; but still more so of my older one," said lucilla. "but i must go back to my remaining guests. good-bye, my two dear sisters. i shall expect and hope to see you both over here every day." "it is very likely you will see us here at least that often," laughed grace, "and we will expect an honest return of each and every visit." "we'll get it, too," cried elsie; "lu could never stay away a whole day from papa." "it would certainly take very strong compulsion to make me do so," said lucilla. "good-bye again. i hope to see you both in my old home a few hours hence, and here some time to-morrow." with that she passed into the house while her sisters hastened away in the direction of woodburn. "it will soon be time to send the carriage for chester," said max, accompanying her, "suppose i give the order now." "yes, do," she replied, "i'd like to have him here as soon as possible; and if he should not be quite ready, jack and the carriage can be kept waiting." "certainly. i'll go and give the order, then rejoin you and our guests in the drawing-room." as max stepped out upon the veranda again two carriages came driving up the avenue--one bringing mr. and mrs. lacey from the laurels, the other mr. and mrs. croly from riverside. "oh, max, how glad i am to see you again!" exclaimed rosie, as he assisted her to alight. "it seems an age since you went away, and you have been exposed to such perils i hope i shall have a chance to hear the story of your experiences in that fight at manila. such a chance as i couldn't get at any of the late parties." "thank you, i hope we will have time and opportunity for a number of talks," he replied, releasing the hand she had put into his and turning to greet mrs. lacey, whom he addressed as aunt rose, and whose greeting was quite as cordial as her niece's had been. "you have the fairview and beechwood folks here now i see," remarked mrs. croly, glancing toward their waiting vehicles. "yes; walk in and let us have you all together," returned max. "we will make a small party in anticipation of the large one to be held at woodburn some hours hence." "yes," assented rosie, "we are all relatives and friends, and i for one can never see too much of sister elsie or cousin ronald, to speak of only one of each family." hearty greetings were exchanged, a short time spent in cheerful chat, then one set of visitors after another took their departure till at length max, evelyn and lucilla were left alone, though looking almost momentarily for chester's homecoming. "it has probably been a hard day with him. i fear he will be too weary for much enjoyment to-night," sighed lucilla. "i hope not," said max. "the meeting with so many relatives and friends will probably be restful. ah, there's the carriage now, just coming up the driveway." it brought chester, and he showed himself to be in excellent spirits, though somewhat weary with the labors of the day. he reported that all seemed to be going right with the business in hand, and he had little doubt that he should gain his hoped-for reward. his audience of three listened with keen interest to all he had to say. when he had finished eva rose saying, "i must go now and attend to housekeeping matters so that max and i may be ready in good season for our woodburn festivities." "stay, eva," said lucilla, "i have ordered an early light tea for the four of us. we wont want a very hearty meal to spoil our appetites for the refreshments to be served at woodburn." "no, certainly not; it is very kind in you to provide for us as well as for yourselves," returned evelyn; max adding, "it is, indeed, sister mine." "well, really," laughed lucilla, "it was for my own pleasure quite as much as for yours." and tears came into the eyes gazing with sisterly affection into those of max. "i want to entertain you while i can," she added, "for there is no knowing when uncle sam may be ordering you quite out of reach." "oh, don't let us talk of that!" exclaimed eva. "let us banish it from our thoughts for the present." "that is good advice," said max, his voice a trifle husky; "it's what i'm trying to do for the present; for however much a man may love the service--a little wife such as mine must be far nearer and dearer." "yes," said chester; "if you had only chosen the law, we might now be partners in my office, as well as in this house." "and i perhaps might ruin the business by my stupidity," returned max, with playful look and tone. "hark! there's the tea-bell," said lucilla. "i invite you all out to the dining-room." after a pleasant social half hour spent at the tea-table, each couple retired to their own apartments to dress for the evening entertainment at woodburn. "this is one of the occasions for the wearing of the wedding-gown, is it not?" max said inquiringly to evelyn, as they passed into her dressing-room. "yes," she said lightly. "you will not mind seeing me in it for the second time, will you?" "i shall be very glad to. it is both beautiful and becoming," he returned, with a fond look and smile. "ah, my eva, i think no one ever had a sweeter bride than mine," he added, passing his arm about her and drawing her into a close embrace. "they say love is blind and it must be that which makes me look so lovely in your eyes; for my features are by no means so good and regular as those of some others--your sisters lu and grace, for instance," returned evelyn, with a pleased little laugh. "those sisters of mine are both beautiful in my eyes, but there is something--to me--still sweeter in this dear face," he answered to that, giving her a fond caress as he spoke. "and your love is so sweet to me, i am so glad to belong to you," she returned low and feelingly, laying her head on his breast while glad tears shone in her eyes. "i have only one cause for grief left," she went on presently--"that we cannot live together all the time, as lu and chester may; yet spite of that i would not change with her or anybody else." "i hope not, darling," he said, laughingly. "nor would i any more than you. i think we were made for each other." "so do i; and when compelled to part for a season we will console ourselves by looking forward to the joy of the reunion." "so we will, dear one; and in the meantime we will have the pleasure of correspondence." "yes, indeed! a letter from my husband will be a great treasure and delight to me." "not more than will be one from my wife to me," he returned, giving her a gleeful caress. meantime, chester and his lucilla were similarly engaged. chester was very proud and fond of his bride and anxious to show her to neighbours and friends in her wedding dress; so expressed his satisfaction when he saw it laid out in readiness for the occasion. "i am glad it pleases you," said lucilla, "and i own to liking it right well myself. eva is going to wear hers, too. so it will seem something like a repetition of our wedding day." "which makes it very suitable for your father's house. it was a disappointment to him, i know, not to have his daughter and son married in his own house." "yes, i suppose so; but dear father is so unselfish that he preferred to let us have our own way, especially on eva's account." "i know it, and mean to try to copy his example in that--seeking to please others rather than myself." "as i do; i should like to resemble him in character and conduct as much as some persons tell me i do in features and expression." "yes; you are very like him in both," chester said, with an affectionate and admiring look and smile; "in character and conduct also, if your admiring husband be any judge." the sunnyside couples were the first of the guests to reach woodburn--though, in fact, they hardly considered themselves guests, or were deemed such by the family there; it was but going home to their father's house, where they had an hour of keen enjoyment before other relatives and guests began to arrive. everything went smoothly; the company was made up of congenial spirits, the entertainment was fine and evidently enjoyed, and when they bade good-night and scattered to their homes it was with the expectation of meeting again the next evening at fairview. the dinsmores of the oaks had planned to give the second entertainment, but mr. and mrs. leland claimed it as their right, because of their near relationship to evelyn, and the fact that fairview had been her home for so many years. they were now nearing the end of the week; this was thursday, the fairview party would be held on friday evening and saturday all preferred to spend quietly in their own homes or with the nearest and dearest. and that was the plan carried out. the fairview party passed off as successfully as had the woodburn one, and saturday and sunday brought a rest from festivities which was welcome to all. chapter iii. lucilla could never stay long away from her old home in her father's house; she was there every day and often two or three times a day. "father," she said, on that first saturday after taking possession of the new home, "mayn't we sunnyside folks come over here and join your bible class to-morrow evening?" "my dear child, it is just what i would have you do," he returned, with a gratified and loving smile. "don't forget that woodburn is still your home--one of your homes at least--and that you are always welcome and more than welcome to join us when you will. you are my own daughter as truly as ever you were." "and just as glad to be as ever i was," she exclaimed, with a bright, loving look and smile. "and to do your bidding at all times, father dear," she added. "provided it does not interfere with chester's," max, who happened to be present, suggested a little mischievously. "hardly any danger of that, i think," remarked his father, with a slightly amused look; "chester is a reasonable fellow, and i have no intention of interfering with his rights." "and he thinks almost as highly of my father's wisdom as i do," said lucilla. "but not more than max and i do," said evelyn, giving the captain a very filial and admiring look; "and you will take us in as members of your class, too, wont you father?" "it is just what i desire to do," was the pleased reply. "max has always been a member when at home; and you, you know, are now his better half." eva shook her head and with a merry, laughing look at max, said, "not just that, father; i should say the smaller partner in the firm." "that will do, too," smiled the captain, "since the most costly goods are apt to be done up in the smallest packages." "ah, eva, my dear, you are answered," laughed max. "what is to be the subject of to-morrow's lesson, captain?" asked mrs. elsie travilla, sitting near. "i have not decided that question yet, mother, and should be glad of a suggestion from you," he replied in a kindly, respectful tone. "i have been thinking a good deal lately of the signs of the times," she said, "and whether they do not show that we are nearing the end of this dispensation. that might perhaps be a profitable and interesting question to take up and endeavor to solve." "no doubt it would be," he replied, "and i hope you will come prepared to give us some information as to what the scriptures say on the subject, and what are the views of biblical scholars who have been giving it particular attention." "i will do what i can in that line, and hope you, captain, and others will come prepared to take part in considering the subject." "certainly a most interesting one," said violet. "and one which must lead to great searching of the scriptures as the only infallible source of information," added the captain. "yes," said grandma elsie, "they are the only authority on that subject. and how thankful we should be that we have them." sabbath afternoon proved bright and clear, and brought to woodburn quite a gathering of the relatives and friends; for all loved the bible studies they had for years taken together. mr. lilburn, as the eldest, was persuaded to take the lead. "i understand," he said, "that to-day we are to take up the question whether the second coming of our lord jesus christ may, or may not, be near. the scriptures are our sole authority, and you are all invited to bring forward anything from them which may seem to you to have a bearing on the subject." then turning to mrs. travilla, "cousin elsie," he said, "you are, probably, the one among us the most thoroughly prepared to do so; please let us hear from you." "i doubt if i am better prepared than some of the rest of you," she replied, "but i have been very much interested in the subject; particularly of late, and have searched the bible for texts bearing upon it, some of which i will read. here in the first chapter of acts we read that the disciples asked, 'lord, wilt thou at this time restore again the kingdom to israel? and he said unto them, it is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the father hath put in his own power. but ye shall receive power, after that the holy ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in jerusalem and in all judea, and in samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth. and when he had spoken these things, while they beheld, he was taken up and the clouds received him out of their sight. and while they looked steadfastly toward heaven as he went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel; which also said, ye men of gallilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same jesus which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.' and," continued grandma elsie, "the apostle john gives us the same promise here in the first chapter of the revelation," turning to the passage as she spoke, then reading it aloud, "'behold, he cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see him.'" "i have heard the idea advanced that death is the coming of christ to the dying one," remarked chester, in a tone of inquiry. "but we are told," said mrs. travilla, "that 'as the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west; so shall also the coming of the son of man be.' that description certainly could not apply to the death hour of any christian, nor to the conversion of any sinner." "and his second coming is spoken of in the same way in a number of places in the different gospels," said evelyn. "here, in luke, we have christ's own words, 'whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words, of him shall the son of man be ashamed, when he shall come in his glory, and in his father's, and of the holy angels.' and again in matthew : , 'for the son of man shall come in the glory of his father with his angels; and then he shall reward every man according to his works.'" "the disciples wanted to know when that second coming would be," remarked violet; "here in matthew : , we are told, 'and as he sat upon the mount of olives, the disciples came unto him privately, saying, "tell us when shall these things be and what shall be the sign of thy coming and of the end of the world?" and jesus answered and said unto them, "take heed that no man deceive you."' "i shall not read the whole chapter, for i know it is familiar to you all; but in the th verse he says, 'for as the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west; so shall also the coming of the son of man be. for wheresoever the carcass is, there will the eagles be gathered together. immediately after the tribulation of those days shall the sun be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken: and then shall appear the sign of the son of man in heaven: and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, and they shall see the son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. and he shall send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and they shall gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.'" "many persons," remarked grandma elsie, "tell us it is not worth while to consider at all the question of the time when christ will come again; quoting the text, 'but of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels in heaven, but my father only.' but again and again our saviour repeated his warning, 'watch, therefore; for ye know not what hour your lord doth come.... therefore be ye also ready; for in such an hour as ye think not the son of man cometh.'" "i do not quite understand this," said grace. "luke says, here in the st chapter, th verse--quoting the words of the master--'and when ye shall see jerusalem compassed with armies, then know that the desolation thereof is nigh. then let them which are in judea flee to the mountains; and let them which are in the midst of it depart out.' how could they depart out of the city while it was compassed with armies?" "there is a satisfactory explanation," replied her father, "in the twelfth year of nero, cestius gallus, the president of syria, came against jerusalem with a powerful army. josephus says of him: 'he might have assaulted and taken the city, and thereby put an end to the war; but without any just reason, and contrary to the expectation of all, he raised the siege and departed.' the historians, epiphanius and eusebius, tell us that immediately after the departure of the armies of cestius gallus, and while vespasian was approaching with his army, all who believed in christ left jerusalem and fled to pella and other places beyond the river jordan." "every one of them, papa?" asked ned. "yes; dr. adam clarke says 'it is very remarkable that not a single christian perished in the destruction of jerusalem, though there were many there when cestius gallus invested the city.'" "papa," asked elsie, "don't you think god put it in the heart of that cestius gallus to go away with his troops before vespasian got there; so that the christians had an opportunity to escape?" "i certainly do, daughter," was the captain's emphatic reply. "had not the earlier prophets foretold the destruction of jerusalem?" asked lucilla. "yes," said mr. lilburn; "even as early a one as moses. here in the th chapter of deuteronomy he says 'the lord shall bring a nation against thee from far, from the east of the earth, as swift as the eagle flieth; a nation whose tongue thou shalt not understand.'" "the romans?" elsie said, inquiringly. "yes; their ensign was an eagle and their language the latin, which the jews did not understand. the prophesy of moses continues. in the d verse he says, 'and he shall besiege thee in all thy gates, until thy high and fenced walls come down; wherein thou trustedst, throughout all thy land: and he shall besiege thee in all thy gates throughout thy land, which the lord thy god hath given thee. and thou shalt eat the fruit of thine own body, the flesh of thy sons and of thy daughters, which the lord thy god hath given thee, in the siege and in the straitness, wherewith thine enemies shall distress thee.'" "oh, how dreadful!" exclaimed elsie. "and did all that happen at the siege of jerusalem?" "yes; it lasted so long that famine was added to all the other sufferings of the besieged. so dreadful was it that mothers would snatch the food from their children in their distress, and many houses were found full of women and children who had died of starvation. josephus tells of human flesh being eaten; particularly of a lady of rank who killed, roasted and ate her own son. and so the prophecy of moses was fulfilled." "oh, how dreadful, how dreadful!" sighed elsie. "yes," said mr. lilburn, "it was the fulfillment of our saviour's prophecy as he beheld jerusalem and wept over it, saying, 'if thou hadst known, even thou at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes. for the days shall come upon thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and keep thee in on every side, and shall lay thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee; and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon another; because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation.' that is told us in the th chapter of luke. in the st we read, 'and they shall fall by the edge of the sword, and shall be led away captive into all nations: and jerusalem shall be trodden down of the gentiles, until the times of the gentiles be fulfilled.'" "have those times been fulfilled yet?" asked ned. "no, not yet," replied mr. lilburn; "the turks still have possession of jerusalem, though the jews have begun to return to palestine and the turkish power grows weaker. but the time of the gentiles will not be fulfilled until the work of the gospel is finished." "and when will that be, cousin ronald?" asked ned. "i cannot say exactly," answered the old gentleman, "but the trend of events does seem to show that we are nearing that time--such a feeling of unrest all over the world, some men--comparatively a few--accumulating enormous quantities of wealth by paying their laborers a mere pittance for their work, while the cost of living goes higher and higher. this is a land of plenty, and but for the grasping selfishness of some, none need lack for abundance of the necessaries of life." "i wish nobody did lack for plenty to eat and drink, and wear," said elsie, "and i want to do all i can to help those who haven't enough." "i hope you will, daughter," the captain said, in a tone of pleased approval. "and now the important thing for us to consider is what is our duty, in view of the very possible nearness of christ's second coming." "he has told us again and again to watch and be ready," said grandma elsie; "yet we are not to be idle, but to work while it is called to-day; to occupy till he comes; to be not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the lord." chapter iv. for the next week or two, family parties for the honor and entertainment of the newly-married ones were frequent. life seemed to them bright and joyous, except when they remembered that max would probably soon be ordered away, perhaps to some distant quarter of the globe. an unwelcome anticipation not to them only, but to his father and the others at woodburn, and in a slighter degree to all the connection. but orders had not come yet, and they still hoped they might be delayed for weeks, giving opportunity for many quiet home pleasures. yet there were drawbacks to even those, in the fact that several of the near connection were ailing from colds caught during their round of festivities--grandma elsie and chester dinsmore being of those most seriously affected. chester was confined to the house for several days, under the doctor's care, and it was against medical advice that he then returned to his labors at his office. lucilla was troubled and anxious, and, as usual, went to her father for sympathy and advice. they had a chat together in the library at woodburn. "i feel for you, daughter," captain raymond said, "but keep up your courage; 'all is not lost that is in danger.' i have been thinking that a southerly trip in the yacht might prove of benefit to both grandma elsie and chester, and quite agreeable to the members of my family and other friends for whom we could find room." "oh, father, that would be delightful!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "and i hope you will persuade harold to make one of the company, for grace's sake, and so that we will not be without a physician." "yes, that is a part of my plan, and i have little doubt of its acceptance, grace's companionship being a great attraction to my young brother-in-law." "'speak of angels and you will hear the flutter of their wings,'" laughed lucilla, as at that moment harold appeared in the doorway. "am i the angel, and may i fly in?" he asked, joining in the laugh. "certainly, you are just in the nick of time to advise us in a matter of importance which we were discussing," replied the captain, inviting him by a gesture to an easy chair near at hand, then repeating to him the substance of what he had been saying to lucilla, finishing with a request for his opinion in regard to the plan. "i like it extremely," harold said. "i think nothing could be better for either mother or chester, and the sooner we make ready and start the better for both, if they will be persuaded to go; of which i have little doubt." "i am somewhat afraid chester may refuse for business reasons," sighed lucilla. "i think we can persuade him of the folly of that," said her father. "it would be far wiser and better to give up business for a time for the gaining of health, than to so wreck that by overtaxing strength of body and mind as to shorten his days or make himself an invalid for life." "it certainly would," said harold, "and i hope that among us we can convince him that duty, as well as pleasure, calls him to make one of our party." "duty to his wife as well as to himself," said lucilla, in a lively tone; "for i should neither willingly go without him or stay behind with him." "where are vi, grace and the children?" asked harold. "i have not seen or heard anything of them since i came in." "max and eva have taken them driving in our fine new carriage--father's wedding gift," replied lucilla, with a smiling glance into her father's eyes. "that is, all but ned who rides his pony alongside." "ah, and here they come now!" exclaimed harold, glancing from the window, "the carriage has just turned in at the gates." and with that the three arose and hastened out to the veranda, to greet and assist them to alight. but the moment the carriage drew up before the entrance the door was thrown open and max, then chester, sprang out and turned to hand out the ladies--grandma elsie, eva, violet, grace and her sister elsie, while at the same time ned was dismounting from his pony. warm greetings were exchanged, and as the weather was now too cool for comfortable sitting upon the veranda the captain led the way to the library--a favorite resort with them all. "your call is an agreeable surprise, mother," he said to grandma elsie, as he drew forward an easy chair for her; "harold had just been telling us that you were almost ill with a cold." "i have a rather bad one, but thought a drive through the bracing air, and in such pleasant company, might prove beneficial rather than otherwise," she answered in cheery tones, adding "and i knew harold was here and could take me home in his conveyance." "certainly, mother, and will be very glad of your good company," said harold, while at the same time violet exclaimed, "but why go at all to-night, mother? why not stay here with us?" "thank you, daughter," was the smiling reply; "that would be pleasant, but there are some things to be attended to at home." "and not being well, she would better have her doctor close at hand," remarked harold, in playful tone. "mother, we have been contriving a plan to help you and chester to get the better of your colds." "ah, what is that?" she asked, and harold, turning to the captain, said, "let mother hear it from you, brother levis, if you please." "we are thinking of taking a southward trip in the 'dolphin,' mother--visiting the bermudas, bahamas and other of the west indies and the coast of brazil." "why, that would be a lovely trip!" she exclaimed. "many thanks to you, captain, for including me among your invited guests." "many thanks to you, mother, if you consent to make one of our party," he returned, looking greatly pleased to find her so ready to approve of and share their plans. eager, excited remarks and queries now followed in rapid succession from the others present--"when was the start to be made? who besides grandma elsie and the captain were to compose the party?" "all who are here now are invited and expected to go; some others of our friends also," replied the captain, "and i hope no one will refuse." "thanks, warm thanks," said chester. "i should be delighted to go, but fear business will prevent." "as your physician, ches, i strongly advise you not to let it," said harold. "a good rest now in a warm climate may restore you to vigorous health, while if you stay at home and stick to business you are likely to either cut your life short or make yourself a confirmed invalid for the rest of it." "do you really think so, cousin doctor?" was chester's rejoinder in a troubled voice. "i do most emphatically," returned harold. "you may be very thankful, cousin, that this good opportunity offers." "i am," said chester. then turning to the captain. "thank you very much, sir, for the invitation, which i accept, if my wife will go with me." "you needn't doubt that," laughed lucilla. "there is nothing i like better than a trip on my father's yacht, with him and all my dear ones about me." "and it's just the same with all the rest of us," said grace. "and how is it with max and eva?" asked the captain. "i know of nothing more enjoyable than that--a trip on the 'dolphin' taken in the company of one's dear ones," replied evelyn with a loving look into the eyes of her young husband. "just my opinion," he said, with a smile; "the only question with me is, will uncle sam allow me a sufficiently long leave of absence." "your leave of absence has nearly expired?" his father said, inquiringly. "yes, sir; so nearly that i should hardly feel surprised to receive orders any day." "well, i hope, instead, you may get another leave, allowing you time to make one of our party." "it would be a very great pleasure to me, sir," said max. "but i have had so long a one already that i can hardly hope for another very soon." "oh, max!" exclaimed grace, "do write at once asking to have it extended; it would double our pleasure to have you along." "yes, max, do," said lucilla. "i can hardly bear the thought of going without you." evelyn, sitting close at his side, looked her entreaties, while violet said, "yes, max, do; it will double our enjoyment to have you and eva along." then chester, grandma elsie, harold and the children added their entreaties, expressing their desire for his company on the trip and ned exclaimed, "yes, brother max, do get leave to go along; we'll want you to make fun for us with your ventriloquism." "is that all you want me for, neddie boy?" laughed max. "if so, cousin ronald will answer your purpose quite as well, if not better." "but two can make more fun than one; and i want you besides, because i am really fond of you--the only brother i've got." "ah, that sounds better," said max; "but i really can't go without uncle sam's permission." "then please do ask him to give it." "yes, do, max," said grace; "i really think he might give it, considering what good service you did at manila." "it was not very much that i accomplished personally," returned max modestly, "and the two months' rest i have had is probably quite as much as i may be supposed to have earned. especially as it gave me the opportunity to secure my wife," he added, with a very affectionate look at evelyn. "i wish you might be able to go with us, max, my son," said the captain, "for leaving ventriloquism entirely out of the account, i should be very glad to have your company. but the service, of course, has the first claim on you." "so i think, sir; and as for the ventriloquism, my little brother is so hungry for, cousin ronald can supply it should you take him as one of your passengers." "and that we will, if he and his wife can be persuaded to go," returned the captain, heartily. "oh, good, papa!" cried ned, clapping his hands in glee, "then we'll have at least one ventriloquist, if we can't have two." "and, after all, the ventriloquism was really all you wanted me for, eh?" said max, assuming a tone and look of chagrin. "oh, no! no! brother max," cried ned, with a look of distress. "i didn't mean that! you know you're the only brother i have and i'm really fond of you." "as i am of you, little brother, and have been ever since you were born," said max, regarding the little fellow with an affectionate smile. "oh, max, i wish you hadn't gone into the navy," sighed lucilla. "i don't," he returned, cheerfully, "though i acknowledge that it is hard parting with home and dear ones." "that is bad, as i know by experience," said their father, "but then we have the compensating joy of the many reunions." "yes, sir; and a great joy it is," responded max. "how soon, father, do you think of starting on your southward trip?" "just as soon as all necessary arrangements can be made, which, i suppose, will not be more than a week from this, at farthest. i can have the yacht made ready in less time than that, and for the sake of our invalids it would be well to go as promptly as possible." "couldn't you make use of the telephone now, to give your invitations, my dear?" queried violet. "why, yes; that is a wise suggestion. i will do so at once," he replied, and hastily left the room, promising to return presently with the reply from beechwood to which he would call first. the invitation was accepted promptly and with evident pleasure, as the captain presently reported in the library. "now, mother, shall i give my invitation in the same way to our own friends?" he asked, turning to grandma elsie. "perhaps it would be as well to send it by harold and me," she said, "as that will delay it very little, and i can perhaps help them to perceive what a delightful trip it is likely to prove." "and then, mamma, you can give us their view by the 'phone," said violet. "i, or some one of the family will," she said. "and now, harold, we will go and attend to the matter at once." chapter v. captain raymond's invitation proved scarcely less agreeable to mr. and mrs. dinsmore than to their younger friends and relatives, and their acceptance was telephoned to woodburn before the sunnyside party had left for their homes. all heard it with satisfaction, for grandpa and grandma dinsmore were pleasant traveling companions. some lively chat followed, in regard to needed preparations for the trip, and in the midst of it a servant came in with the afternoon mail. the captain distributed it and among max's portion was a document of official appearance. evelyn noted it with a look of apprehension, and drew nearer to her young husband's side. "orders, my son?" asked the captain, when max had opened it and glanced over the contents. "yes, sir; i am to go immediately to washington, upon the expiration of my leave which will be about the time the rest of you set sail in the 'dolphin.'" the announcement seemed quite a damper upon the previous high spirits of the little company, and there were many expressions of disappointment and regret. "well," said chester, getting on his feet as he spoke, "i must go home now; there is a little matter in regard to one of my cases that must be attended to at once, since i am likely to leave the neighborhood so soon." "and if my husband goes, i must go, too," said lucilla, in a lively tone, rising and taking up the wrap she had thrown off on coming into the warm room. "it is near the dinner hour; you would better stay, all of you, and dine with us," said the captain. all thanked him, but declined, each having some special reason for wishing to go home at that particular time. "well, come in and share a meal with us whenever you will," said the captain. "i think you know, one and all, that you are heartily welcome." "yes, father, we do," said max, "and we are always glad when you care to breakfast, dine, or sup with us." "any of us but papa?" asked ned. "yes, indeed; all of you from mamma vi down," laughed max, giving the little fellow an affectionate clap on the shoulder as he passed him on his way out to the hall. "yes, ned, each one of you will always be a most welcome visitor," said chester. "indeed you will, you may be very sure of that," added lucilla and eva. "so sure are we of that, that you need not be surprised to see any of us at any time," laughed violet. "nor will we be surprised or grieved to see any or all of you at any time." "no, indeed! i want my daughters--and sons also--all to feel entirely at home always in their father's house," the captain said, with his genial smile. "thank you, father dear, and don't forget that sunnyside is one of your homes, and we are always ever so glad to open its doors to you," said lucilla, going to him and holding up her face for a kiss, which he gave with warmth of affection. "and not lu's side only, but ours as well," added evelyn, holding out her hand and looking up lovingly into his face. he took the hand, drew her closer to him and gave her a caress as affectionate as that he had just bestowed upon lucilla. the rest of the good-byes were quickly said, and both young couples were wending their homeward way. they were all in thoughtful mood, and the short walk was taken in almost unbroken silence. eva's heart was full at thought of the approaching separation from her young husband. how could she bear it? he seemed almost all the world to her, now that they had been for weeks such close companions, and life without his presence would be lonely and desolate indeed. she passed up the stairway to their bedroom, while he paused in the hall below to remove his overcoat and hat. her eyes were full of tears, as she disposed of her wraps, then crossed the room to her mirror to see that dress and hair were in perfect order. "no improvement needed, my own love, my darling," max said, coming up behind her and passing an arm about her waist. at that she turned and hid her face upon his breast. "oh, max, my husband, my dear, dear husband," she sobbed, "how can i live away from you? you are now more than all the world to me." "as you are to me, dear love. it is hard to part, but we will hope to meet again soon; and in the meantime let us write to each other every day. and as there is no war now you need not feel that your husband is in any special danger." "yes, thank god for that," she said, "and that we may know that we are both in his kind care and keeping wherever we are." "and surely you will be less lonely than you were before our marriage--father claims you as his daughter, chester and little ned are your brothers, lu and grace your sisters." "yes, oh yes; i have a great deal to be thankful for, but you are to me a greater blessing than all the world." "as you are to me, dearest," was his response, as he held her close to his heart, pressing warm kisses on cheek and brow and lip. meanwhile, on the other side of the hall, chester and lucilla were chatting about the captain's plan for a winter trip. "i think it will be just delightful, chester," she said, "since i am to have you along. i am so glad you are going, sorry as i am that ill-health makes it necessary." "yes, my dear," he returned with a smile, "i am fortunate, indeed, in having so loving a wife and so kind and able a father-in-law. i am truly sorry that i must leave some important business matters to which i should like to give attention promptly and in person, but i intend to put that care aside and enjoy our holiday as fully as possible. i heartily wish max could go with us. i think it would almost double the pleasure of the trip." "as i do," responded lucilla, with a sigh; "but it seems one can never have all one wants in this world. i doubt if it would be good for us if we could." "no, it assuredly would not. now, my dear, i am going down to the library to look at some papers connected with one of my cases, and shall probably be busy over them until the call to dinner." the next few days were busy ones with those who were to have a part in the southern trip of the "dolphin." woodburn and sunnyside were to be left in the care of christine and alma, with a sufficient number of servants under them to keep everything in order. max went with the others to the yacht, spent a half hour there, then bade good-bye, went ashore and took a train for washington. it was eva's first parting from her husband, and she shut herself into her stateroom for a cry to relieve her pent-up feelings of grief and loneliness. but presently there was a gentle little tap at the door and elsie raymond's sweet voice asked, "sister eva, dear, don't you want to come on deck with me and see them lift the anchor and start the 'dolphin' on her way?" "yes, dear little sister; thank you for coming for me," replied evelyn, opening the door. "all the rest of us were there and i thought you would like to be there, too," continued the little girl, as they passed through the saloon and on up the stairway. "yes, little sister, it was very kind in you to think of me." "but i wasn't the only one; everybody seemed to be thinking of you and looking round for you. so i asked papa if i should come for you, and he said yes." "it was very kind in both him and you, little sister elsie," eva said, with a smile. "our dear father is always kind, and i am very glad to be his daughter." "so am i," returned elsie, with a happy little laugh. "i think he's the dearest, kindest father that ever was made." they had just reached the deck at that moment, and as they stepped upon it they caught sight of harold and grace standing near, looking smilingly at them, pleased with elsie's tribute to her father, which they had accidentally overheard. "oh, uncle harold, you'll take sister eva to a good place to see everything from, wont you?" exclaimed elsie. "yes, little niece, the everything you mean," he returned, laughingly. "there is room for us all. come this way," he added, and led them to that part of the deck where the other passengers were grouped. there they were greeted with kindness and given a good place for seeing all the preparations for starting the vessel on her way to the bermudas. she was soon moving swiftly in that direction, and, a cool breeze having sprung up, her passengers left the deck for the warmer and more comfortable saloon. "elsie and ned wouldn't you like your grandma to tell you something about the islands we are going to?" asked mrs. travilla; the two little ones being, as usual, quite near her. "yes, indeed! grandma," both answered, in eager tones, seating themselves one on each side of her. "i heard papa say it wouldn't be a very long voyage we would take at the start, because the bermudas were only about six hundred miles away from our coast," said elsie. "they belong to england, don't they, grandma?" "yes; but they were named for a spaniard, bermudez, who first sighted them in ; they are also called somers's isles from sir george somers, an englishman, who was shipwrecked there in . that was what led to their colonization from virginia--two years later when it was itself only four years old. "are they big islands, grandma? and are there many of them?" asked ned. "no, there are perhaps five hundred of them, but the whole group measures only about twelve thousand acres in all. they occupy a space only about twenty miles long by six broad." "then the group isn't worth very much, i suppose." "yes, because its situation makes it a natural fortress which can hardly be overrated. they form a bond of union between two great divisions of british america; on each side of them is a highway between the gulf of mexico and the north atlantic. there are many picturesque creeks and bays, large and deep, the water so clear as to reveal, even to its lowest depths, the many varieties of fish sporting among the coral rocks, and the beautifully variegated shells." "and it has a warm climate, hasn't it, grandma?" asked elsie. "i think that is why we are going there." "yes, the climate is said to be like that of persia, with the addition of a constant sea-breeze." "i shall like that," responded the little girl with satisfaction. "but what kind of people live there, grandma?" "a good many whites and still more colored people." "slaves, grandma?" asked ned. "no; the islands belong to england, and years ago she abolished slavery in all her dominions." "what are the names of some of them, grandma? the islands, i mean." "the largest, which is fifteen miles long, is called bermuda; st. george is three and a half miles long and is the military station of the colony; it commands the entrance of the only passage for large vessels. its land-locked haven and the narrow and intricate channel leading into it are defended by strong batteries." "you have been there, haven't you, grandma?" "yes; years ago," she said, with a sigh, thinking of the loved partner of her life who had been with her then and there. "and your grandpa dinsmore and i were there at the same time," remarked grandma dinsmore, sitting near; and she went on to give a graphic account of scenes they had witnessed there, mr. dinsmore presently joining in a way to make it very interesting to the children. chapter vi. grandpa dinsmore had hardly finished relating his reminiscences of his former visits to the bermudas when a sailor-lad came down the companionway with a message from the captain--an invitation to any or all his passengers to come up on deck, as there was something he wished to show them. it was promptly and eagerly accepted by the young folks,--somewhat more slowly and sedately by the older ones. "what is it, papa? have you something to show us?" queried ned, as he gained his father's side. "something lying yonder in the sea, my son, the like of which you have never seen before," replied the captain, pointing to a large object in the water at some little distance. "ah, a whale!" exclaimed dr. travilla, who had come up on ned's other side. "to what genus does he belong, captain?" "he is a bottlenose; a migratory species, confined to the north atlantic. it ranges far northward in the summer, southward in the winter. in the early spring they may be found around iceland and greenland, western spitzbergen, in davis strait and probably about novaia zemlia." "oh, do they like to live right in among the icebergs, papa?" asked elsie. "no, they do not venture in among the ice itself, but frequent open bays along its margin, as in that way they are sheltered from the open sea." "the group gathered about the captain on the deck now comprised all his cabin passengers, not one of whom failed to be interested in the whale, or to have some remark to make or question to ask. "this one seems to be alone," remarked lucilla. "do they usually go alone, papa?" "no; they are generally found in herds of from four to ten; and many different herds may be found in sight at the same time. the old males, however, are frequently solitary; though sometimes one of them may be seen leading a herd. these whales don't seem to be afraid of ships, swimming around them and underneath the boats till their curiosity is satisfied." "i suppose they take them--the ships--for a kind of big fish," laughed ned. "why is this kind of whale called bottlenosed, papa?" asked elsie. "that name is given it because of the elevation of the upper surface of the head above the rather short beak and in front of the blow hole into a rounded abrupt prominence." "blow hole," repeated ned, wonderingly; "what's that, papa?" "the blow holes are their nostrils through which they blow out the water collected in them while they are down below the waves. they cannot breath under the water, but must come up frequently to take in a fresh supply of air. but first they must expel the air remaining in their lungs, before taking in a fresh supply. they send that air out with great force, so that it rises to a considerable height above the water, and as it is saturated with water-vapor at a high temperature, the contact with the cold outside air condenses the vapor which forms a column of steam or spray. often, however, a whale begins to blow before its nostrils are quite above the surface, and then some sea-water is forced up with the column of air." they were watching the whale while they talked; for it followed the yacht with seeming curiosity. at this moment it rolled over nearly on its side, then threw its ponderous tail high into the air, so that for an instant it was perpendicular to the water, then vanished from sight beneath the waves. "oh, dear," cried ned, "he's gone! i wish he'd stayed longer." "perhaps he will come back and give us the pleasure of seeing him spout," said the captain. "do you mean throw the water up out of its nostrils, papa?" asked ned. "oh, i'd like that!" "ah, there's the call to supper," said his father, as the summons came at that moment. "you wouldn't like to miss that?" "no, sir," returned ned, in a dubious tone. "but couldn't we let the supper wait till the whale comes up and gets done spouting?" "perhaps some of the older people may be too hungry to wait comfortably," returned his father; "and the supper might be spoiled by waiting. but cheer up, my son; the whale is not likely to come up to the surface again before we can finish our meal and come back to witness his performance." that assurance was quite a relief to ned's mind, so that he went very cheerfully to the table with the others, and there did full justice to the viands. no one hurried with the meal, but when they left the table it was to go upon deck again and watch for the reappearance of the whale. they had been there for but a moment when, to the delight of all, it came up, not too far away to be distinctly seen, and at once began spouting--or blowing; discharging the air from its lungs in preparation for taking in a fresh supply; the air was sent out with great force, making a sound that could be heard at quite a distance, while the water-vapor accompanying the air was so condensed as to form a column of spray. it made five or six respirations, then swam away and was soon lost to sight. then the company returned to the cabin as the more comfortable place, the evening air being decidedly cool. ned seated himself close to his father, and, in coaxing tones, asked for something more about whales. "are there many kinds, papa?" he queried. "yes, my son, a good many; more than you could remember. would you like me to tell you about some of the more interesting ones?" "oh, yes, indeed, papa!" was the emphatic and pleased response, and the captain began at once. "there are the whalebone or true whales, which constitute a single family. they have no teeth, but, instead, horny plates of baleen or whalebone, which strain from the water the small animals upon which the whale feeds." "oh, yes, i know about whalebones," said ned. "mamma and sisters have it in their dresses. and it comes out of the whale's mouth, does it, papa?" "yes; it is composed of many flattened, horny plates placed crosswise on either side of the palate, and separated from one another by an open space in the middle line. they are smooth on the outer side, but the inner edge of each plate is frayed out into a kind of fringe, giving a hairy appearance to the whole of the inside of the mouth when viewed from below." "whalebone or baleen is black, isn't it, papa?" asked ned. "not always; the color may vary from black to creamy white; and sometimes it is striped dark and light." "is there much of it in one whale, papa?" "yes, a great deal on each side of the jaw; there are more than three hundred of the plates, which, in a fine specimen, are about ten or twelve feet long and eleven inches wide at their base; and so much as a ton's weight has been taken from a large whale." "and is the baleen all they kill the whales for, papa?" "oh, no, my son! the oil is very valuable, and there is a great deal of it in a large whale. one has been told of which yielded eighty-five barrels of oil." "oh, my! that's a great deal," cried ned. "what a big fellow he must have been to hold so much as that." "the whale is very valuable to the people of the polar regions," continued the captain. "they eat the flesh, and drink the oil." "oh, papa! drink oil!" cried little elsie, with a shudder of disgust. "it seems very disgusting to us," he said, with a smile, "but in that very cold climate it is an absolute necessity--needful, in order to keep up the heat of the body by a bountiful supply of carbon." "whales are so big and strong it must be very dangerous to go near them, i suppose," said elsie, with an inquiring look at her father. "that is the case with some of the species," he said, "but not with all. the greenland whale, for instance, is inoffensive and timorous, and will always flee from the presence of man, unless roused by the pain of a wound or the sight of its offspring in danger. in that case, it will sometimes turn fiercely upon the boat in which the harpooners are who launched the weapon, and, with its enormous tail, strike it a blow that will shatter it and drive men, ropes and oars high into the air. that greenland whale shows great affection for both its mate and its young. when this whale is undisturbed, it usually remains at the surface of the water for ten minutes and spouts eight or nine times; then it goes down for from five to twenty minutes, then comes back to the surface to breathe again. but when harpooned, it dives to a great depth and does not come up again for half an hour. by noticing the direction of the line attached to the harpoon, the whalers judge of the spot in which it will rise and generally contrive to be so near it when it shows itself again, that they can insert another harpoon, or strike it with a lance before it can go down again." "poor thing!" sighed little elsie, "i don't know how men can have the heart to be so cruel to animals that are not dangerous." "it is because the oil, whalebone and so forth, are so valuable," said her father. "it sometimes happens that a stray whale blunders into the shallow waters of the bermudas, and not being able to find the passage through which it entered, cannot get out again; so is caught like a mouse in a trap. it is soon discovered by the people, and there is a great excitement; full of delight, they quickly launch their boats filled with men armed with guns, lances and other weapons which would be of little use in the open sea, but answer their purpose in these shoal waters. "as soon as the whale feels the sharp lance in its body it dives as it would in the open sea; but the water is so shallow that it strikes its head against the rocky bed of the sea with such force that it rises to the surface again half stunned. "the hunters then take advantage of its bewildered condition to come close and use their deadly weapons till they have killed it. the fat and ivory are divided among the hunters who took part in the killing, but the flesh is given to any one who asks for it." "is it really good to eat, papa?" asked ned. "those who are judges of whale flesh say there are three qualities of meat in every whale, the best resembling mutton, the second similar to pork, and the third resembling beef." "the whales are so big and strong; don't they ever fight back when men try to kill them, papa?" asked elsie. "yes," he replied, "sometimes a large whale will become belligerent, and is then a fearful antagonist, using its immense tail and huge jaws with fearful effect. i have heard of one driving its lower jaw entirely through the plankings of a stout whaling boat, and of another that destroyed nine boats in succession. not only boats, but even ships have been sunk by the attack of an infuriated old bull cachalot. and an american ship, the 'essex' was destroyed by the vengeful fury of a cachalot, which accidentally struck itself against the keel. probably it thought the ship was a rival whale; it retired to a short distance, then charged full at the vessel, striking it one side of the bows, and crushing beams and planks like straws. there were only a few men on board at the time, most of the crew being in the boats engaged in chasing whales; and when they returned to their ship they found her fast sinking, so that they had barely time to secure a scanty stock of provisions and water. using these provisions as economically as they could, they made for the coast of peru, but only three lived to reach there, and they were found lying senseless in their boat, which was drifting at large in the ocean." "i wonder any one is willing to go whaling when they may meet with such dreadful accidents," said evelyn. "i suppose it must be very profitable to tempt them to take such risks," remarked chester. "it is quite profitable," said the captain; "a single whale often yields whalebone and blubber to the value of thirty-five hundred or four thousand dollars." "i should think that might pay very well, particularly if they took a number." "our whale fishing is done mostly by the new englanders, isn't it, papa?" asked grace. "yes," he said, "they went into it largely at a very early date; at first on their own coasts, but they were deserted by the whales before the middle of the eighteenth century; then ships were fitted out for the northern seas. but for a number of years the american whale-fishery has been declining, because of the scarcity of whales and the substitutes for whale oil and whalebone that have been found. however, new bedford, massachusetts, is the greatest whaling port in the world. "now it is nearing your bedtime, my boy, and i think you have had enough about the whale and his habits for one lesson." "yes, papa; and i thank you very much for telling it all to me," replied ned, with a loving, grateful look up into his father's face. chapter vii. some two hours later the captain was taking his usual evening walk upon the deck, when lucilla and evelyn joined him. "we feel like taking a little stroll, father, and hope you will not object to our company," remarked evelyn, as they reached his side. "i could not, with truth, say it was unpleasant to me, daughter," he returned, with a smile, and passing a hand caressingly over her hair, as she stood close at his side. "the fact is, i am very glad of the companionship of you both." "and we are both thankful to hear you say it, i am sure," returned lucilla, in a sprightly tone, and with a bright, loving look up into his eyes. "i'd be heart-broken if i thought my father didn't love me enough to care to have me near him." "and i should be much distressed if i had reason to believe my daughter didn't care to be near me. if grace were as strong and healthy as you are, it would double the pleasure to have her with us. she has gone to her stateroom, i suppose." "yes, papa, and most of the others have retired to their rooms, too. dr. harold and chester are playing a game of chess, and so will hardly miss eva and me." "perhaps not; so we will take our promenade undisturbed by anxiety about them," laughed the captain, offering an arm to each. it was a beautiful evening; the moon was shining in a clear sky and making a silvery pathway upon the waters. "where do you suppose max is now, father?" asked evelyn, with a slight sigh. "probably in washington; though it is possible he may have received his orders and gone aboard his vessel." "and doubtless he is thinking of you, eva, as you are of him," said lucilla, speaking in low, tender tones. "no doubt of it," said their father, "for he is very fond of his sweet, young wife. as we all are, daughter dear," he added, softly patting the small, white hand resting upon his arm. "dear father," she said, with emotion, "it is so kind in you to give me the fatherly affection i have so missed and longed for in years past." "and daughterly affection from you is an adequate return," he said pleasantly. "i expect to enjoy that in all this winter's wanderings by sea and land." "wanderings which i am very glad to be allowed to share," she said; and then they talked of the various places they expected to visit while on this winter trip. at length evelyn, saying it was high time for her to join grace in the stateroom they shared together, said good-night and returned to the cabin, but lucilla delayed her departure a little longer--it was so pleasant to have her father all to herself for a bit of private chat before retiring for the night. they paced the deck silently for a few moments, then she said: "father, i have thought a good deal of that talk we had in our bible lesson some time ago, about the second coming of christ. do you think it--his coming--is very near?" "it may be, daughter. the signs of the times seem to indicate its approach. jesus said, 'of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my father only.' he has given us signs, however, by which we may know that it is near; and judging by them we may, i think, know that it is not very far off now." "then, papa, doesn't it seem as if we ought to be busied with religious duties all the time?" "i think whatever duties the lord gives us in his providence may, in some sense, be called religious duties--for me, for instance, the care of wife, children and dependents. we are to go on with household and family duties, those to the poor and needy in our neighborhood; also to take such part as we can in the work of the church at home and for foreign missions, and so forth; all this, remembering his command, 'occupy till i come,' and endeavoring to be ready to meet him with joy when he comes." "and isn't it a very important part trying to win souls to christ?" "it is, indeed, and 'he that winneth souls is wise.' leading a truly christlike life may often win them to join us in being his disciples, even though we refrain from any word of exhortation; though there are times when we should not refrain from giving that also." "as you did to me, father," she said, with a loving look up into his face. "oh, i shall try to be a winner of souls. the bible makes the way clear, again and again, in a very few words. you know it tells us jesus said to nicodemus, 'god so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.'" "yes; and peter said to cornelius and his kinsmen and friends, after telling them of jesus, 'to him give all the prophets witness, that through his name whosoever believeth in him shall receive remission of sins.' and paul and silas, when asked by the jailor, 'sirs, what must i do to be saved?' replied, 'believe on the lord jesus christ, and thou shalt be saved.' salvation is god's free gift, without money and without price. one must believe in his divinity, his ability and willingness to save, taking salvation at his hands as a free, unmerited gift. but now, dear child," he added, taking her in his arms, with a fond caress, "it is time for you and that not very strong husband of yours to be seeking your nest for the night. 'the lord bless thee, and keep thee; the lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; the lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.'" he added in solemn tones, laying a hand tenderly upon her head as he spoke. "thank you, dear father," she said, in tones half tremulous with emotion, "i do so love that blessing from your lips. and chester and i both think i have the best father in the world." "it is pleasant to have you think that," he returned, with a smile and another caress, "but no doubt there are many fathers in the world quite as good, kind and affectionate as yours; perhaps if my daughters were less affectionate and obedient than they are, they might find their father more stern and severe. now, good-night--and may you have peaceful sleep undisturbed by troubled dreams." chapter viii. the next morning was bright and clear, the air so much warmer than that which had been left behind on their own shores, that one and all repaired to the deck after breakfast, and preferred to remain there during the greater part of the day. mr. horace dinsmore, his wife and daughter were sitting near together, the ladies occupied with some crocheting, and mr. dinsmore with a book in hand, which he did not seem to be reading, when elsie and ned raymond, who had been gamboling about the deck, came dancing up to them with a request for "more about bermuda." "you don't want to be surprised by the pretty things you will see there, eh?" queried their grandpa. "no, sir; we want to hear about them first and see them afterward; if it isn't troubling you too much," said elsie, with a coaxing look up into his face. "well, considering that you are my great-grandchildren, i think i must search my memory for something interesting on the subject. there are many picturesque creeks and bays. there are four pretty large islands--bermuda, the largest, being fifteen miles long. the strange shapes of the islands and the number of spacious lagoons make it necessary to travel about them almost entirely in boats; which is very pleasant, as you glide along under a beautiful blue sky and through waters so clear that you can see even to their lowest depths, where the fish sport among the coral rocks, and exquisitely variegated shells abound." "oh, i shall like that!" exclaimed elsie. "are the fish handsome, too, grandpa?" "some of them are strikingly so," he replied. "one called the parrot-fish is of a green color as brilliant as that of his bird namesake. his scales are as green as the fresh grass of spring-time, and each one is bordered by a pale brown line. his tail is banded with nearly every color of the rainbow, and his fins are pink." "is he good to eat, grandpa?" asked ned. "no, his flesh is bitter and poisonous to man and probably to other fishes. so they let him well alone." "well, i suppose he's glad of that," laughed ned. "the more i hear about bermuda, grandpa, the gladder i am that we are going there." "yes; and you may well be thankful that you have so good and kind a father, and that he owns this fine yacht." "yes, sir, i am that; but i'd rather be his son than anybody else's if he didn't own anything but me." "and i'm just as pleased to be his daughter," said elsie. "and i to be his grandfather-in-law," added mr. dinsmore, with comically grave look and tone. "yes, sir; grandpa travilla would have been his--papa's--father-in-law if he had lived, wouldn't he?" "yes; and almost as old as i am. he was my dear, good friend, and i gave him my daughter to be his wife." "that was you, grandma, wasn't it?" asked ned, turning to mrs. travilla. "yes, dear," she said, with a smile and a sigh, "and if he had stayed with us until now you would have loved him as you do grandpa dinsmore." "yes, indeed, grandma," came softly and sweetly from the lips of both children. there was a moment of subdued silence, then grandpa dinsmore went on. "there are many pretty creatures to be seen in the waters about bermuda. there is a kind of fish called angels, that look very bright and pretty. they have a beautiful blue stripe along the back, and long streamers of golden yellow, and they swim very gracefully about. but they are not so good as they are pretty. they pester the other fishes by nibbling at them, and so, often, get into a quarrel, fighting with a long, sharp spine which they have on each gill-cover, making ugly wounds with it on those they are fighting. "among the outer reefs we will, perhaps, see a speckled moray. he looks like a common eel, except that his body is dark-green flecked with bright yellow spots, which makes him quite a handsome fellow. there is a fish the bermuda fishermen call the 'spanish hogfish,' and when asked why they give it that name they say, 'why, sir, you see it lazes around just like a hog, and carries the spanish colors.'" "spanish colors? what are they, grandpa?" queried ned. "the fish," said mr. dinsmore, "is brownish red from his head to the middle of his body, and from there to the end of his tail a bright yellow; and those are the colors of the spanish flag." "i'm glad we are going to bermuda," remarked elsie, with a happy little sigh, "for i'm sure there must be a great deal there worth seeing." "and your father is just the kind of man to help you to a sight of all such things," responded mr. dinsmore. "yes, sir," said elsie, "papa never seems to think it too much trouble to do anything to give us pleasure." "ah, what father would, if he had such a dear little girl and boy as mine?" queried a manly voice just behind them, while a gentle hand was laid caressingly on elsie's head. "oh, papa, i didn't know you were so near," she exclaimed, with a laugh and a blush. "wont you sit down with us? grandpa dinsmore has been telling us very interesting things about bermuda." "and papa can probably tell some that will be more interesting," remarked mr. dinsmore, as the captain took possession of elsie's seat and drew her to one upon his knee. that suited the little maid exactly; in her opinion no seat was more desirable than "papa's knee." "now, papa, we're ready to hear all you know about bermuda," said ned, with a look of eager interest. "perhaps you are more ready to hear than i to tell," the captain answered, with an amused smile. "at any rate, i want, first, to hear what you have been told, lest i should waste my time and strength in repeating it." the children eagerly repeated what had been told them, the captain added a few more facts about the beautiful things to be seen in the clear bermuda waters--the coral reefs and the plants and animals that cover them; then the call to dinner came, and all left the deck for the dining-saloon. almost the whole party were on deck again immediately upon leaving the table. the older ones were scattered here and there in couples or groups, but elsie and ned sauntered along together chatting in low tones, as if not wanting to be overheard by the older people. "yes, i am sorry," sighed elsie, in reply to something her brother had said; "christmas is such a delightful time at home, and, of course, we can't expect to have one here on the yacht." "no," said ned, brightening, "but, of course, we can give christmas gifts to each other, if--if we get to bermuda in time to buy things. i s'pose there must be stores there." "surely, i should think. i'll ask mamma or papa about it." "have you any money?" "yes; i have two dollars i've been saving up to buy christmas gifts. how much have you?" "fifty cents. it isn't much, but it will buy some little things, i guess." "yes, of course it will. but, oh, ned, christmas comes monday. to-morrow is sunday; so we couldn't do any shopping, even if we were on the land; and we may as well give it up." "yes, but we are having a very good time here on the 'dolphin,' aren't we, elsie?" "yes, indeed! and it would be really shameful for us to fret and worry over missing the usual christmas gifts and pleasures." the two had been so absorbed in the subject they were discussing that they had not noticed an approaching step, but now a hand was laid on a shoulder of each, and their father's loved voice asked, in tender tones: "what is troubling my little son and daughter? tell papa, and perhaps he may find a way out of the woods." "yes, papa; they are not very thick woods," laughed elsie. "it is only that we are sorry we can't have any christmas times this winter, or remember anybody with gifts, because we can't go to any stores to buy anything." "are you quite sure of all that, daughter?" he asked, with a smile, smoothing her hair caressingly as he spoke. "i thought i was, but perhaps my father knows better," she answered, with a pleased little laugh. "well, i think a man of my age ought to know more than a little girl of yours. don't you?" "oh, yes, indeed! and i know my father knows many, many times more than i do. is there any way for us to get gifts for all these dear folks on the yacht with us, or for any of them, papa?" "yes, i remembered christmas when we were getting ready to leave home, and provided such gifts as seemed desirable for each one of my family to give to others. i will give you each your share to-night before you go to your berths, and you can decide how you will distribute them--to whom you will give each one." "but, papa, i----" elsie paused, blushing and confused. "well, dear child, what is it?" asked her father, in gentle, affectionate tones. "i was thinking, papa, that they could hardly be our gifts when you bought them and with your own money, not ours." "but i give them to you, daughter, and you may keep or give them away, just as you like. that makes them your gift quite as truly as if they had been bought with your own pocket money. does it not?" "oh, yes, papa, so it seems to me, and i know it does since you say so," exclaimed elsie joyously; ned joining in with, "oh, that's just splendid, papa! you are the best father in the world! elsie and i both think so." "well, it is very pleasant to have my children think so, however mistaken they may be," his father said, with a smile and an affectionate pat on the little boy's shoulder. "well, my dears, suppose we go down at once and attend to these matters. it will be better now than later, i think, and not so likely to keep you from getting to sleep in good season to-night." the children gave an eager, joyful assent, and their father led them down to the stateroom occupied by violet and himself, and opening a trunk there, brought to light a quantity of pretty things--ribbons, laces, jewelry, books and pictures; also cards with the names of the intended recipients to be attached to the gifts, as the young givers might see fit. that work was undertaken at once, their father helping them in their selection and attaching the cards for them. it did not take very long, and they returned to the deck in gay spirits. "for what purpose did you two children take papa down below? or was it he who took you?" asked lucilla, laughingly. "i think it was papa who took us," said elsie, smiling up into his face as she spoke. "wasn't it, papa?" "yes," he said, "and whoever asks about it may be told it was father's secret conference." "oh," cried lucilla, "it is a secret then, is it? i don't want to pry into other people's affairs; so i withdraw my question." "perhaps papa intends to take his other children--you and me, lu--down in their turn," remarked grace, laughingly, for she was sitting near her father, and had overheard the bit of chat. "i really had not thought of doing so," said the captain, "but it is a good idea. come, now, both of you," he added, leading the way. "i suppose you two have not forgotten that to-morrow will be sunday and the next day christmas?" he said, inquiringly, as they reached the saloon. "oh, no, papa; you know you helped us, before we left home, in selecting gifts for mamma vi and the children and others," said grace. "but how are we going to keep christmas here on the yacht?" "pretty much as if we were at home on the land," he answered, with a smile. "there is a christmas tree lying down in the hold. i intend having it set up here early monday morning, and some of the early risers will perhaps trim it before the late ones are out of bed. then it can be viewed, and the gifts distributed when all are ready to take part in the work and fun. now, if you wish i will show you the gifts i have prepared for my family--not including yourselves," he interpolated, with a smile. "our guests and servants here and the crew of the vessel." the offer was gladly accepted, the gifts viewed with great interest and pleasure, the girls chatting meanwhile with affectionate and respectful familiarity with their loved father. "i like your plan, father, very much indeed," said lucilla; "and as it is easy and natural for me to wake and rise early, i should like to help with the trimming of the tree, if you are willing." "certainly, daughter, i shall be glad to have you help--and to put the gifts intended for you on afterward," he added, with a smile. "yes, sir; and perhaps your daughters may treat you in the same way," she returned demurely. "i suppose you would hardly blame them for following your example?" "i ought not to, since example is said to be better than precept. we will put these things away now, go back to our friends on deck, and try to forget gifts until christmas morning." chapter ix. as on former voyages on the "dolphin," sabbath day was kept religiously by all on board the vessel. religious services--prayer, praise and the reading of a sermon--were held on deck, for the benefit of all, after which there was a bible lesson led by mr. milburn, the subject being the birth of jesus and the visits of the wise men from the east; also the story of bethlehem's shepherds and their angel visitants followed by their visit to the infant saviour. the children went to bed early that night that--as they said--christmas might come the sooner. then the captain, his older daughters, chester, and harold, had a little chat about what should be done in the morning. the young men were urgent that their assistance should be accepted in the matter of setting up and trimming the tree; the girls also put in a petition for the privilege of helping with the work. to lucilla their father answered, "you may, as i have said, for you are naturally an early bird, so that i think it cannot hurt you." then turning to grace, "i hardly think it would do for you, daughter dear; but we will let your doctor decide it," turning inquiringly to harold. "if her doctor is to decide it, he says emphatically no," said harold, with a very loverlike look down into the sweet face of his betrothed; "she will enjoy the rest of the day much better for taking her usual morning nap." "you and papa are very kind; almost too kind," returned grace, between a smile and a sigh. "but i think you are a good doctor, so i will follow your advice and papa's wishes." "that is right, my darling," responded her father, "and i hope you will have your reward in feeling well through the day." "if she doesn't, she can discharge her doctor," said lucilla in a mirthful tone. "you seem inclined to be hard upon doctors, lu," remarked harold, gravely; "but one of these days you may be glad of the services of even such an one as i." "yes, that is quite possible; and even now i am right glad to have my husband under your care; and i'm free to say that if your patients don't improve, i don't think it will be fair to blame it--their failure--on the doctor." "thank you," he said; "should you need doctoring on this trip of ours, just call upon me and i'll do the best for you that i can." "i have no doubt you would," laughed lucilla, "but i'll do my best to keep out of your hands." "that being your intention, let me advise you to go at once to your bed," returned harold, glancing at his watch. then all said good-night and dispersed to their rooms. at early dawn the three gentlemen were again in the saloon overseeing the setting up of the christmas tree, then arranging upon it a multitude of gifts from one to another of the "dolphin's" passengers, and some token of remembrance for each one of the crew; for it was not in the kind heart of the captain ever to forget or neglect any one in his employ. the other passengers, older and younger, except lucilla, who was with them in time to help with the trimming of the tree, did not emerge from their staterooms until the sun was up, shining gloriously upon the sea, in which the waves were gently rising and falling. all were fond of gazing upon the sea, but this morning their first attention was given to the tree, which seemed to have grown up in a night in the saloon, where they were used to congregate mornings, evenings and stormy days. all gathered round it and viewed its treasures with appreciative remarks; then the captain, with chester's and harold's assistance, distributed the gifts. every one had several and seemed well pleased with them. the one that gave eva the greatest pleasure had been left for her by her young husband; it was an excellent miniature likeness of himself set in gold and diamonds. she appreciated the beautiful setting, but the correct and speaking likeness was far more to her. near the tree stood a table loaded with fruits and confections of various kinds, very tempting in appearance. ned hailed it with an expression of pleasure, but his father bade him let the sweets alone until after he had eaten his breakfast. the words had scarcely left the captain's lips when a voice was heard, apparently coming from the skylight overhead: "say, pete, d'ye see them goodies piled up on that thar table down thar? my, but they looks temptin'." "yes," seemed to come from another voice, "wouldn't i like to git in thar and help myself? it's odd and real mean how some folks has all the good things and other folks none." "course it is. but, oh, i'll tell you. they'll be goin' out to breakfast presently, then let's go down thar where the goodies is, and help, ourselves." "yes, let's." everybody in the saloon had stopped talking and seemed to be listening in surprise to the colloquy of the two stowaways--for such they apparently were--but now ned broke the silence: "why, how did they get on board? must be stowaways and have been in the hold all this time. oh, i guess they are hungry enough by this time; so no wonder they want the candies and things." "perhaps cousin ronald can tell us something about them," laughed lucilla. "acquaintances of mine, you think, lassie?" sniffed the old gentleman. "truly, you are most complimentary. but i have no more fancy for such trash than have you." "ah, well, now, cousin, i really don't imagine those remarks were made by any very bad or objectionable fellows," remarked captain raymond, in a tone of amusement. "no," said mr. dinsmore, "we certainly should not be hard on them if they are poor and hungry." "which they must be if they have been living in the hold ever since we left our native shores," laughed violet. "oh, now, i know, it was just cousin ronald, and not any real person," cried ned, dancing about in delight. "and so i'm not a real person?" said mr. lilburn, in a deeply hurt tone. "oh, cousin ronald, i didn't mean that," said ned, penitently, "only that you weren't two boys, but just pretending to be." at that everybody laughed, and mr. lilburn said: "very true; i never was two boys and am no longer even one. well, i think you and all of us may feel safe in leaving the good things on the table there when we are called to breakfast, for i am sure those fellows will not meddle with them." the summons to the table had just sounded, and now was obeyed by all with cheerful alacrity. everybody was in fine spirits, the meal an excellent one, and all partook of it with appetite, while the flow of conversation was steady, bright and mirthful. they had their morning service directly after the meal, then went upon deck and to their surprise found they were in sight of bermuda. they were glad to see it, though the voyage had been a pleasant one to all and really beneficial to the ailing ones, for whose benefit it was undertaken more particularly than for the enjoyment of the others. also it was hoped and expected that their sojourn in and about the islands would be still more helpful and delightful; and so indeed it proved. they tarried in that neighborhood several weeks, spending most of their time on the vessel, or in her small boats--many of the water-ways being too narrow and shallow to be traversed by the yacht, but going from place to place on the land in a way to see all that was interesting there. chapter x. it was a lovely moonlight evening; the "dolphin's" captain and all his family and passengers were gathered together upon the deck. it had been a day of sight-seeing and wandering from place to place about the islands, and they were weary enough to fully enjoy the rest and quiet now vouchsafed them. captain raymond broke a momentary silence by saying: "i hope, my friends, that you can all feel that you have had a pleasant sojourn in and about these islands?" "indeed we have," replied several voices. "i am glad to hear it," returned the captain, heartily; "and now the question is, shall we tarry here longer or go on our southward way to visit other places, where we will escape the rigors of winter in our more northern homes?" no one spoke for a moment; then mr. dinsmore said: "let the majority decide. i am perfectly satisfied to go on or to stay here, as you, captain, and they may wish." "and i echo my husband's sentiments and feelings," remarked mrs. rose dinsmore, pleasantly. "and you, mother?" asked the captain, turning to mrs. travilla. "i, too, am entirely willing to go or stay, as others may wish," she replied, in her own sweet voice. "and you, evelyn?" asked the captain, turning to her. "i feel that it would be delightful either to go or stay, father," she answered, with a smile and a blush. the others were quite as non-committal, but after some further chat on the subject it was decided that they would leave bermuda the next morning, and, taking a southerly course, probably make porto rico their next halting place. as usual, lucilla woke at an early hour. evidently the vessel was still stationary, and anxious to see it start she rose and made her toilet very quietly, lest she should disturb her still sleeping husband, then left the room and stole noiselessly through the saloon up to the deck, where she found her father overseeing the lifting of the anchor. "ah, good-morning, daughter," he said, with a smile, as she reached his side. "you are an early bird as usual," ending his sentence with a clasp of his arm about her waist and a kiss upon her lips. "yes, papa," she laughed, "who wouldn't be an early bird to get such a token of love from such a father as mine?" "and what father wouldn't be ready and glad to bestow it upon such a daughter as mine?" he responded, repeating his loving caress. "you have enjoyed your trip thus far, daughter, have you not?" "yes, indeed, papa. we are bound for porto rico now, are we not?" "yes, i think that will be our first stopping place; though perhaps we may not land at all, but merely sail round it, viewing it from the sea." "and perhaps you may treat cuba in the same way?" "very possibly. i shall act in regard to both as the majority of my passengers may wish." the anchor was now up, and the vessel gliding through the water. the captain and lucilla paced the deck to and fro, taking a farewell look at the receding islands and talking of the pleasure they had found in visiting them, particularly in exploring the many creeks and bays, with their clear waters so full of beautiful shells and fish, so different from those to be found in their land. "i shall always look back with pleasure upon this visit to bermuda, father," lucilla said, with a grateful smile up into his eyes. "i am very glad you have enjoyed it, daughter," he replied; "as i think every one of our party has. and i am hoping that our wanderings further to the south may prove not less interesting and enjoyable." "yes, sir, i hope so. i shall feel great interest in looking upon cuba and porto rico--particularly the first--because of what our men did and endured there in the late war with spain. how pleasant it was that the porto ricans were so ready and glad to be freed from the domination of spain and taken into our union." just then harold joined them, and with him came little ned. pleasant good-mornings were exchanged. then others of their party followed, two or three at a time, till all were on deck enjoying the sweet morning air and the view of the fast-receding islands. then came the call to breakfast, followed by the morning service of prayer and praise, and after that they returned to the deck. as usual, the children were soon beside their loved grandmother, mrs. elsie travilla. "well, dears, we have had a very good time at bermuda, haven't we?" she said, smiling lovingly upon them. "yes, ma'am," said elsie. "do you think we will have as good a time where we are going now?" "i hope so, my dear. i believe porto rico is to be the first land we touch at. would you like me to tell you something of its beauties and its history?" "yes, indeed, grandma," both children answered, in a tone of eager assent, and she began at once. "the name--porto rico--was given it by the spaniards, and means 'the gateway of wealth.' it was discovered by columbus in . it is about half as large as new jersey. through its center is a range of mountains called the luquillo. the highest peak, yunque, can be seen from a distance of sixty-eight miles. porto rico is a beautiful island. the higher parts of the hills are covered by forests; immense herds of cattle are pastured on the plains. the land is fertile and they raise cotton, corn, rice and almost every kind of tropical fruit." "are there any rivers, grandma?" asked ned. "nine small ones," she answered. "are there any towns?" "oh yes, quite a good many; large ones. ponce, the capital, has a good many thousands of inhabitants, and some fine buildings. san juan, too, is quite a large place; it stands on morro island, which forms the north side of the harbor and is separated from the mainland by a narrow creek called the channel of san antonio. at the entrance to san juan's harbors is a lighthouse on morro point. it is one hundred and seventy-one feet above the sea, and its fixed light is visible for eighteen miles over the waters." "oh," cried ned, "let's watch out for it when we are coming that near." "it will be very well for you to do so," his grandma said, with a smile; then went on with her account of porto rico. "the island has much to recommend it; the climate is salubrious, and there are no snakes or reptiles. it has valuable minerals, too--gold, copper, lead; also coal. san juan is lighted by both gas and electricity. "the spaniards were very cruel to the poor indians who inhabited porto rico when columbus discovered it. it is said that in a hundred years they had killed five hundred thousand of men, women and children." "oh, how dreadful!" exclaimed elsie. "and they killed so, _so_ many of the poor natives in peru and in mexico. i don't wonder that god has let their nation grow so poor and weak." "the porto ricans were tired of being governed by them when we began our war with spain to help the poor cubans to get free," continued grandma elsie. "our government and people did not know that, but thought porto rico should be taken from spain, as well as cuba. so as soon as santiago was taken, a strong force was sent against ponce. "the 'wasp' was the first vessel to arrive. it had been expected that they would have to shell the city, but as the 'wasp' steamed close to the shore a great crowd of citizens could be seen gathered there. they were not behaving like enemies, and the troops on the 'wasp' were at a loss to understand what it meant; therefore, the gunners stood ready to fire at an instant's warning, when ensign rowland curtin was sent ashore bearing a flag of truce, four men with him. "the citizens were cheering as if frantic with joy over their coming, and as soon as they landed overwhelmed them with gifts of tobacco, cigars, cigarettes, bananas, and other good things." "oh, wasn't that nice!" exclaimed elsie. "i think they showed their good sense in preferring to be ruled by our people rather than by the spaniards." "as soon as the people could be calm enough to listen," continued grandma elsie, "ensign curtin announced that he had come to demand the surrender of the city and port, and asked to see the civil or military authorities. "some of the civil officials were there, but they could not surrender the city, as that must be the act of the military powers. there was a telephone at hand, and the ensign ordered a message sent to colonel san martin, the commandant, telling him that if he did not come forward and surrender the city in the course of half an hour, it would be bombarded. "the garrison had been, and still were, debating among themselves what they should do, but as soon as they heard of this message they began looting the stores and shops, cramming underwear and clothing upon their backs and in their trousers, to check and hold the bullets which they were certain the americans would send after them, as they scampered off. "ensign curtin went back to his vessel, and, soon after, commander c. h. davis, of the 'dixie,' was rowed ashore. there a note was handed him from colonel san martin, asking on what terms he demanded the surrender of the city. he answered that it must be unconditional. at the request of the commandant, however, he made the terms a little different. then the padded men of the garrison waddled out of town, leaving one hundred and fifty rifles and fourteen thousand rounds of ammunition behind. "lieutenant haines, commanding the marines of the 'dixie,' landed and hoisted the stars and stripes over the custom-house at the port of ponce, the onlookers cheering most heartily. after that, lieutenant murdoch and surgeon heiskell rode to the city, three miles distant, where the people fairly went wild with joy, dancing and shouting, '_viva los americanos. viva puerto rico libre._'" "sensible folks i think they were to be so glad to get away from spain and into the united states," remarked ned, with a pleased smile. "yes, i think they were," said grandma elsie, "for it was gaining liberty--freedom from most oppressive tyranny." she had begun her talk to the two children alone, but now quite a group had gathered about them--dr. harold travilla and grace raymond, chester and lucilla dinsmore and mrs. evelyn raymond. "i am very desirous to see porto rico," said harold. "it must be a garden spot--fertile and beautiful. as we draw near it i mean to be on the lookout for el yunque." "what's that, uncle?" asked ned. "the highest point of land on the island, nearly four thousand feet high. the meaning of the name is the anvil." "porto rico being in the torrid zone, it must have a very hot climate. the weather must have been very oppressive for our troops--taking it in the height of summer," remarked grace. "yes," said grandma elsie; "but the climate is more agreeable than that of cuba or of many places farther north, because of the land breezes that prevail, coming from both north and south." "it is a beautiful and delightful island," remarked harold. "i have often thought i should, some day, pay it a visit." "are we likely to land there?" asked his mother. "i do not know, mother," he answered; "but i presume the captain will say that shall be just as his passengers wish." "yes, i am sure father will say we may all do exactly as we please," said lucilla; "go ashore, or stay quietly on the yacht while others go and return." "it cannot be now the delightful place to visit that it was before the hurricane of last august," remarked chester. "no," said grandma elsie, "and i think i, for one, do not care to land on the island until they have had more time to recover from the fearful effects of that terrible storm." "what mischief did it do, grandma?" asked ned; "were there houses destroyed and people killed?" "yes; a great many," she answered, with a sigh. "i have read that in one district it was estimated that the damage done to houses and crops would reach nine hundred thousand in gold, and that in the valley of the rio de grande over a thousand persons disappeared, and were supposed to have been drowned by the sudden rise and overflow of the river." "and you, mother, i know gave liberally to help repair the damages," said harold. "i was better able than many others who may have been quite as willing," she responded, "and i think i can do still more, if i find the need is still urgent." "yes, mother dear, you seem always ready and glad to help any one who needs it," said harold, giving her a look full of proud, loving admiration. captain raymond had drawn near the group just in time to hear harold's last remark. "quite true, harold," he said, "but who is to be the happy recipient of mother's bounty this time?" "we were talking of the losses of the unfortunate porto ricans in last august's fearful storm," replied harold. "mother, as you know, has already given help, and expresses herself as ready to do more if it is needed." "and will do it, i know," said the captain. "i hope, though, that my dear grandma wont give everything away and have nothing left for herself," said elsie raymond, with a loving look up into grandma elsie's face. "i should not like to have her do that either," the captain said, with a smile. "but the bible tells us, 'he that hath pity upon the poor, lendeth unto the lord, and that which he hath given will he pay him again.'" "a promise that none of us need be afraid to trust," said grandma elsie, with a happy look and smile. "do you think of visiting any part of the island, captain?" "that shall be as my passengers wish," he replied; "we can consider the matter and talk it over while on our way there. my present plan is to go directly to san juan. we may stay some hours or days there, those going ashore who wish, the others remaining on the vessel. we may make the circuit of the island, entirely or in part, keeping near enough to the land to get a pretty good view of its beauties." "will this be your first visit to porto rico, captain?" queried chester. "no, i paid it a flying visit some years ago; and then went up the mountains to caguas and visited the dark cave of aguas buenas." "did it pay?" asked chester. "hardly. the outside journey, though difficult, did pay, but the darkness of the cave, the multitudes of bats flying in your face, and the danger of the guides' torches going out, leaving you unable to find your way to the opening, make the expedition anything but safe or pleasant. i shall never venture in there again or advise any friend to do so." "are you going to take us to cuba, too, papa?" asked elsie. "if my passengers wish to go there." "oh, i think they will; this one does, anyhow," laughed the little girl. "don't you think it would be pleasanter to visit it after it has had time to recover from the war?" asked lucilla. "perhaps papa will bring us a second time after that?" elsie said, with a smile up into his face. "that is quite possible," he answered, returning the smile. "please, papa, tell us something about cuba now, won't you?" pleaded ned. "very willingly, if you all care to hear it," returned the captain, and a general assent being given, he went on: "i think much of it you will all understand better, if told you while looking upon the scenes where it occurred. however, since you wish it, i shall tell at least a part of the story now. "doubtless, you all know that cuba was discovered by columbus on october , . he said of it at one time: 'it is the most beautiful land that eyes ever beheld'; at another: 'its waters are filled with excellent ports, its rivers are magnificent and profound'; and yet again, 'as far as the day surpasses night in brightness and splendor, it surpasses all other countries.' "he found it beautiful not only along the shore where he first landed, but in the interior also; flowers, fruits, maize and cotton in their abundance showed the fertility of the soil. and it was inhabited by a peaceful people who gave him and his men a glad welcome, imagining them to be superior beings, and little dreaming how they were to suffer at their hands. columbus describes them as tall and straight, like the natives of north america, of tawny complexion, and gentle disposition, being easy to influence by their masters. they were a naturally indolent race, which was not strange, considering how easy it was for them to have a comfortable living with very little exertion; there were abundance of wild fruits, and corn and cotton could be raised with little exertion; abundance of fish could be easily obtained from the waters, and if they wanted meat, a little animal resembling a rat in appearance, but tasting like a rabbit, could be had for the hunting. so it would seem they lived easy, contented and peaceful lives; and why should the spaniards think they had a right to rob and enslave them." "why indeed," exclaimed lucilla. "the indians--if able to do so--would have had just as good a right to go over to spain and enslave them." "but with the spaniards might made right," said chester. "but there were only a few spaniards with columbus and a very great many natives on these islands," remarked little elsie, in a puzzled tone. "i wonder they didn't kill the spaniards as soon as they began trying to make slaves of them." "at first," said her father, "they took the spaniards to be a race of superior beings, and gladly welcomed them to their shores. it would, doubtless, have been easy for them to crush that handful of worn-out men, and no doubt they would if they could have foreseen what their conduct toward them would be; but they mistook them for friends, and treated them as such. one cazique gave them a grand reception and feasted them amid songs and their rude music. games, dancing and singing followed, then they were conducted to separate lodges and each provided with a cotton hammock, that proved a delightful couch to pass the night upon." "and the spaniards took all that kindness at the hands of those poor things and repaid them with the basest robbery and cruelty," exclaimed elsie. "yes," said her father; "they even repaid that most generous hospitality by seizing some of the youngest, strongest and most beautiful of their entertainers and carrying them to spain, where they were paraded before the vulgar gaze of the jeering crowd, then sold into slavery. "one of their venerable caziques gave to columbus, when he came the second time to the island, a basket of luscious fruit, saying to him, as he did so: 'whether you are divinities or mortal men, we know not. you have come into these countries with a force, against which, were we inclined to resist, it would be folly. we are all, therefore, at your mercy; but if you are men, subject to morality, like ourselves, you cannot be unapprised that after this life there is another, wherein a very different portion is allotted to good and bad men. if, then, you expect to die, and believe, with us, that every one is to be rewarded in a future state according to his conduct in the present, you will do no hurt to those who do none to you.'" "that old chief was certainly a very wise man for a heathen," remarked chester. "and how strange that the spaniards could treat so shamefully such innocent and friendly people," said evelyn. "yes," exclaimed lucilla, "i think we may all be thankful that there is no spanish blood in us." "which fact makes us the more to be blamed if we indulge in oppression and cruelty," said her father. "papa, did that old king live long enough to see how very cruel the spaniards were to his people?" asked elsie. "that i cannot tell," replied the captain, "but by the time another ten years had passed by, the natives of cuba had learned that the love of the spaniards for gold was too great ever to be satisfied, and that they themselves could not be safe with the spaniards there; they were so alarmed that when diego columbus sent an armed force of three hundred men to begin to colonize cuba, they resisted their landing. but they, the indians, were only naked savages with frail spears and wooden swords, while the invading foes were old-world warriors who had been trained on many a hard-fought battlefield, armed with deadly weapons, protected by plate armor, and having bloodhounds to help in their cruel attempt to rob and subjugate the rightful owners of the soil. so they succeeded in their wicked designs; hundreds of those poor indians were killed in cold blood, others spared to slavery worse than death. from being free men they became slaves to one of the most cruel and tyrannical races of the world. and they were not only abused there on their own island, but hundreds of them were taken to europe and sold for slaves in the markets of seville. that was to raise money to pay the expenses of their captors." "why," exclaimed ned, "the spaniards treated them as if they were just animals, instead of people." "papa, were they--the indians--heathen?" asked elsie. "they had no images or altars, no temples, but they believed in a future existence and in a god living above the blue-domed sky," replied the captain. "but they knew nothing of jesus and the way of salvation, and it seems the spaniards did not tell them of him or give them the bible." "no," said grandma elsie, "rome did not allow them the bible for themselves." "are there a good many wild flowers in cuba, papa?" asked elsie. "yes; a great many, and of every color and tint imaginable--flowers growing wild in the woods. the foliage of the trees is scarcely less beautiful, and their tops are alive with birds of gayly-colored plumage. i have been speaking of wild, uncultivated land. the scene is even more inviting where man has been at work transforming the wildwood into cultivated fields; he has fenced them off with stone walls, which have warm russet-brown tints and are covered here and there with vines and creepers bearing bright flowers. the walks and avenues are bordered with orange-trees in blossom and fruit at the same time, both looking lovely in their setting of deep green leaves. but you have seen such in louisiana." "yes, papa, and they are beautiful," said elsie. "there must be a great deal worth seeing in cuba, but i'll not care to land on it if you older people don't want to." "well, we will leave that question to be decided in the future," the captain said, smiling down into the bright little face. "i think i have read," said evelyn, "that columbus at first thought cuba not an island but a part of the mainland?" "yes," replied the captain, "but the natives assured him that it was an island; on his second trip, however, in , he reiterated his previous belief and called the land juana, after juan, the son of ferdinand and isabella. afterward he changed it to fernandina, in honor of ferdinand; still later to santiago, the name of the patron saint of spain, after that to ave maria. but the name cuba clung to the island and was never lost. "the indians there were a peaceable race. they called themselves ciboneyes. they had nine independent caciques, and, as i believe i have already told you, they believed in a supreme being and the immortality of the soul." "really, they seem to me to have been more christian than the spaniards who came and robbed them of their lands and their liberty," said evelyn. chapter xi. the "dolphin" and her passengers and crew reached porto rico in safety, having made the voyage without detention or mishap. the yacht lay in the harbor of san juan for nearly a week, while its passengers made various little excursions here and there to points of interest upon the island. then the yacht made its circuit, keeping near enough to the shore for a good view of the land, in which all were greatly interested--especially in those parts where there had been some fighting with the spaniards in the late war. "now, father, you are going to take us to santiago next, are you not?" asked lucilla, as they steamed away from the porto rican coast. "yes," he replied, "i am satisfied that you all take a particular interest in that place, feeling that you would like to see the scene of the naval battle and perhaps to look from a distance upon some of the places where there was fighting on land." "it will be interesting," said little elsie, "but, oh, how glad i am that the fighting is all over!" "as i am," said her father; "but if it wasn't, i should not think of taking my family and friends to the scene." "that was a big battle," said ned. "i'm glad i'm going to see the place of the fight; though i'd rather see manila and its bay, because brother max had a share in that fight. uncle harold, you came pretty near having a share in the santiago one, didn't you?" "i was near enough to be in sight of some of it," said harold; "though not so near as to some of the fighting on the land." "that must have been a very exciting time for you and your fellows," remarked mr. lilburn. "it was, indeed; there was slaughter enough on land," said harold; "and though we were pretty confident that victory would perch upon our banners in the sea fight, we could not hope it would prove so nearly bloodless for our side." "the sea fight?" "yes; that on the land was harder on our fellows, particularly because our unreasonable congressmen had failed to furnish for them the smokeless powder and mauser bullets that gave so great an advantage to the spaniards." "yes, indeed," said the captain, "that absolute freedom from smoke made it impossible to tell exactly whence came those stinging darts that struck men down, and the great penetrating power of the mauser bullet made them doubly deadly. they would cut through a palm-tree without losing anything of their force, and, in several instances, two or more men were struck down by one and the same missile." "it was very sad that that gallant young soldier, captain capron, was killed by that first volley," remarked violet. "yes," said her mother, "i remember reading the account of his death, and that he came of a family of soldiers; that his father, engaged with his battery before the spanish lines, left it for a brief time and came over to where the body of his son lay on the rank grass, and, looking for a moment on the still features, stooped and kissed the dead face, saying, 'well done, boy, well done.' that was all, and he went back to the battle." "yes, mother," said harold, in moved tones, "my heart aches yet when i think of that poor, bereaved but brave father. ah, war is a dreadful thing, even when undertaken from the good motive which influenced our people, who felt so much sympathy for the poor, abused cubans." "the americans are, as a rule, kind-hearted folk," remarked mr. lilburn, "and i doubt if there are any troops in the world superior to them in action; not even those of my own land." "no," said the captain, "they were brave fellows and good fighters, having seen service in our northwest and southwest, on the prairies, among the mountains and on the mexican frontier, so that war was no new thing to them, and they went about it calmly even in so unaccustomed a place as a tropical forest." "papa, that captain capron wasn't instantly killed by that mauser bullet, was he?" asked grace. "no; he was struck down early in the action and knew that his wound was mortal, but he called to a man near him to give him the rifle that lay by the side of a dead soldier; then, propped up against a tree, he fired at the enemy with it until his strength failed, when he fell forward to die." "what a brave fellow! it is dreadful to have such men killed," said grace, her voice trembling with emotion. "another man, private heffener, also fought leaning against a tree until he bled to death," said harold. "then there was trooper rowland, a cowboy from new mexico, who was shot through the lungs early in that fight. he said nothing about it, but kept his place on the firing-line till roosevelt noticed the blood on his shirt and sent him to the hospital. he was soon back again and seeing him colonel roosevelt said, 'i thought i sent you to the hospital.' 'yes, sir; you did,' replied rowland, 'but i didn't see that they could do much for me there, so i came back.' he stayed there until the fight ended. then he went again to the hospital. upon examining him the doctors decided that he must be sent back to the states, with which decision he was greatly disgusted. that night he got possession of his rifle and pack, slipped out of the hospital, made his way back to his command and stayed there." "perhaps," said grandma elsie, "you have not all read marshall's experiences then and there. it happens that i have just been re-reading an extract which has interested me greatly. let me read it aloud that you may all have the benefit of it. it is a description of the scene in the field hospital where badly wounded men lay crowded together awaiting their turns under the surgeon's knife. shall i read it?" there was a universal note of assent from her hearers, and she began. "there is one incident of the day which shines out in my memory above all others now, as i lie in a new york hospital, writing. it occurred at the field hospital. about a dozen of us were lying there. a continual chorus of moans rose through the tree-branches overhead. the surgeons, with hands and bared arms dripping, and clothes literally saturated, with blood, were straining every nerve to prepare the wounded for the journey down to siboney. behind me lay captain mcclintock, with his lower leg-bones literally ground to powder. he bore his pain as gallantly as he had led his men, and that is saying much. i think major brodie was also there. it was a doleful group. amputation and death stared its members in their gloomy faces. "suddenly, a voice started softly: 'my country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee i sing.' "other voices took it up: 'land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrims' pride----' "the quivering, quavering chorus, punctuated by groans and made spasmodic by pain, trembled up from that little group of wounded americans in the midst of the cuban solitude--the pluckiest, most heartfelt song that human beings ever sang. there was one voice that did not quite keep up with the others. it was so weak that i did not hear it until all the rest had finished with the line: 'let freedom ring.' "then, halting, struggling, faint, it repeated slowly: 'land--of--the--pilgrims'--pride, let freedom----' "the last word was a woeful cry. one more son had died as died the fathers." there was a moment's pause when grandma elsie had finished reading, and there were tears in the eyes of many of her hearers. it was harold who broke the silence. "that battle of guasimas was a complete victory for our forces, but dearly paid for," he said; "of the nine hundred and sixty-four men engaged, sixteen were killed and fifty-two wounded; thirty-four of the wounded and eight of the killed were rough riders." "and a scarcity of doctors seems to have caused great suffering to our wounded men," grandma elsie said, with a sigh. "yes; there were too few of us," said harold, "and, through somebody's blundering, needed supplies were also scarce. i think our men were wonderfully patient, and it is hard to forgive those whose carelessness and inefficiency caused them so much unnecessary suffering." "yes, it is," said his mother; "war is a dreadful thing. how the people of beleaguered santiago suffered during the siege, and especially when they were sent out of it that they might escape the bombardment. think of eighteen to twenty thousand having to take refuge in that little town, el caney, foul with the effluvium from unburied mules and horses, and even human victims of the battle; houses so crowded that they could not even lie down on the floors, but had to pass their nights sitting on them; and food so scarce that one small biscuit sold for two dollars, and seven dollars was refused for a chicken." "it was dreadful, dreadful indeed!" said mrs. lilburn. "yet not so bad as it would have been to let spain continue her outrageous cruelty to the poor cubans," said evelyn. "no," said lucilla, "i should be sorry, indeed, to have to render up the account that weyler and the rest of them will in the judgment day." "i think he is worse than a savage," sighed mrs. lilburn. "i should think if he had any heart or conscience he would never be able to enjoy a morsel of food for thinking of the multitude of poor creatures--men, women and children--he has starved to death." chapter xii. our friends were favored with pleasant weather on their voyage from porto rico to cuba. all were gathered upon deck when they came in sight of "the pearl (or queen) of the antillies," "the ever-faithful isle," as the spaniards were wont to call it, and they gazed upon it with keen interest; an interest that deepened as they drew near the scene of schley's victory over the spanish fleet. captain raymond and dr. harold travilla, being the only ones of their number who had visited the locality before, explained the whereabouts of each american vessel, when, on that sunday morning of july third, that cloud of smoke told the watchers on the american ships that the enemy was coming out. every one in the little company had heard the battle described; therefore, a very brief account, accompanying the pointing out of the progress of different vessels during the fight, and where each of the spanish ones came to her end, was all that was needed. while they looked and talked, the "dolphin" moved slowly along that they might get a view of every part of the scene of action on that day of naval victory in the cause of the down-trodden and oppressed cubans. that accomplished, they returned to the neighborhood of santiago, and entering the narrow channel which gives entrance to its bay, passed on into and around that, gazing on the steep hills that come down to the water's edge, on morro and the remains of earthworks and batteries. they did not care to go into the city, but steamed out into the sea again and made the circuit of the island, keeping near enough to the shore to get a pretty good view of most of the places they cared to see--traveling by day and anchoring at night. "having completed the circuit of cuba, where do we go next, captain?" asked mr. dinsmore, as the party sat on deck in the evening of the day on which they had completed their trip around the island. "if it suits the wishes of all my passengers, we will go down to jamaica, pay a little visit there, pass on in a southeasterly direction to trinidad, then perhaps to brazil," captain raymond said, in reply, then asked to hear what each one present thought of the plan. every one seemed well pleased, and it was decided that they should start the next morning for jamaica. the vessel was moving the next morning before many of her passengers were out of their berths. elsie raymond noticed it as soon as she woke, and hastened with her toilet that she might join her father on deck. she was always glad to be with him, and she wanted to see whatever they might pass on their way across the sea to jamaica. the sun was shining, but it was still early when she reached the deck, where she found both her father and eldest sister. both greeted her with smiles and caresses. "almost as early a bird as your sister lu," the captain said, patting the rosy cheek and smiling down into the bright eyes looking up so lovingly into his. "yes, papa, i want to see all i can on the way to jamaica. will we get there to-day?" "i think we will if the 'dolphin' does her work according to her usual fashion. but what do you know about jamaica, the island we are bound for?" "not so very much, papa--only--she belongs to england, doesn't she, papa?" "yes. her name means 'land of wood and water,' and she lies about ninety miles to the south of cuba." "is she a very big island, papa?" "nearly as large as our state of tennessee. crossing it from east to west is a heavily-timbered ridge called the blue mountains, and there are many streams of water which flow from them down to the shores. none of them is navigable, however, except the black river, which affords a passage for small craft for thirty miles into the interior." "shall we find a good harbor for our 'dolphin,' father?" asked lucilla. "yes, indeed! excellent harbors are everywhere to be found. the best is a deep, capacious basin in the southeast quarter of the island. it washes the most spacious and fertile of the plains between the hill country and the coast. around this inlet and within a few miles of each other are all the towns of any considerable size--spanish town, port royal, and kingston." "is it a very hot place, papa?" asked the little girl. "on the coast; but much cooler up on those mountains i spoke of. the climate is said to be very healthful, and many invalids go there from our united states." "they have earthquakes there sometimes, have they not, father?" asked lucilla. "they are not quite unheard of," he replied; "in there was one which almost overwhelmed port royal; but that being more than two hundred years ago, need not, i think, add much to our anxieties in visiting the island." "that's a long, long time," said elsie, thoughtfully, "so i hope they won't have one while we are there. is it a fertile island, papa? i hope they have plenty of good fruits." "they have fruits of both tropical and temperate climates; they have spices, vanilla and many kinds of food plants; they have sugar and coffee; they export sugar, rum, pineapples and other fruits; also cocoa, ginger, pimento and logwood and cochineal." "it does seem to be very fruitful," said elsie. "have they railroads and telegraphs, papa?" "two hundred miles of railroad and seven hundred of telegraph. there are coast batteries, a volunteer force and a british garrison; and there are churches and schools." "oh, all that seems very nice! i hope we will have as good a time there as we had at bermuda." "i hope so, daughter," he said. "ah, here come the rest of our little family and your uncle harold." affectionate good-mornings were exchanged; then the talk ran on the subject uppermost in all their minds--jamaica, and what its attractions were likely to be for them. "i have been thinking," said harold, "that some spot on the central heights may prove a pleasant and beneficial place for some weeks' sojourn for all of us, the ailing ones in particular." at that moment his mother joined them and he broached the same idea to her. "if we find a pleasant and comfortable lodging place i am willing to try it," she replied, in her usual cheery tones. at that moment came the call to breakfast; speedily responded to by all the passengers. appetites and viands were alike good and the chat was cheerful and lively. the weather was clear and warm enough to make the deck, where a gentle breeze could be felt, the most agreeable lounging-place, as well as the best, for enjoying the view of the sea and any passing vessel. as usual, the children presently found their way to their grandma elsie's side and asked for a story or some information concerning the island toward which they were journeying. "you know something about it, i suppose?" she said, inquiringly. "yes, ma'am; papa was telling me this morning about the mountains and towns, and harbors, and fruits and other things that they raise," said elsie; "but there wasn't time for him to tell everything; so won't you please tell us something of its history?" "yes, dear; grandma is always glad to give you both pleasure and information. jamaica was discovered by columbus during his second voyage, in . the spaniards took possession of it in ." "had they any right to, grandma?" asked ned. "no, no more than the indians would have had to cross the ocean to europe and take possession of their country. and the spaniards not only robbed the indians of their lands but abused them so cruelly that it is said that in fifty years the native population had entirely disappeared. in the british took the island from spain, and some years later it was ceded to england by the treaty of madrid in ." "and does england own it yet, grandma?" asked elsie. "yes; there has been some fighting on the island--trouble between the whites and the negroes--but things are going smoothly now." "so that we may hope to have a good time there, i suppose," said ned. "yes, i think we may," replied his grandma. "but haven't we had a good time in all our journeying about old ocean and her islands?" to that question both children answered with a hearty, "yes indeed, grandma." chapter xiii. the next morning found the "dolphin" lying quietly at anchor in the harbor in the inlet around which are the principal towns of the island--spanish town, port royal and kingston. all were well enough to enjoy little excursions about the island, in carriages or cars, and some weeks were spent by them in the mountains, all finding the air there very pleasant and the invalids evidently gaining in health and strength. the change had been a rest to them all, but early in march they were glad to return to the yacht and set sail for trinidad, which they had decided should be their next halting place. it was a pleasant morning and, as usual, old and young were gathered upon the deck, the two children near their grandmother. "grandma," said elsie, "i suppose you know all about trinidad, where papa is taking us now, and if it won't trouble you to do so, i'd like very much to have you tell ned and me about it." "i shall not feel it any trouble to do so, little granddaughter," was the smiling rejoinder, "and if you and ned grow weary of the subject before i am through, you have only to say so and i will stop. "trinidad is the most southerly of the west india islands and belongs to great britain. it was first discovered by columbus in and given the name of trinidad by him, because three mountain summits were first seen from the masthead. but it was not until that a permanent settlement was made there. in its chief town, san josede oruha, was burned by sir walter raleigh; but the island continued in spain's possession till , when it fell into the hands of the british and it was made theirs by treaty in ." "how large is it, grandma?" asked ned. "about fifty miles long and from thirty to thirty-five wide. it is very near to venezuela, separated from it by the gulf of paria, and the extreme points on the west coast are only the one thirteen and the other nine miles from it. the channel to the north is called the dragon's mouth; it is the deepest; the southern channel is shallow, owing to the deposits brought down by the orinoco, and the gulf, too, is growing more shallow from the same cause." "are there mountains, grandma?" asked ned. "yes; mountains not so high as those on some of the other caribbean islands; they extend along the northern coast from east to west; they have forests of stately trees and along their lower edges overhanging mangroves, dipping into the sea. there is a double-peaked mountain called tamana, and from it one can look down upon the lovely and fertile valleys and plains of the other part of the island. there are some tolerably large rivers and several good harbors." "are there towns on it, grandma?" asked ned. "yes; the chief one, called port of spain, is one of the finest towns in the west indies. it was first built of wood, and was burned down in , but has since been rebuilt of stone found in the neighborhood. the streets are long, wide, clean, well paved and shaded with trees. "san fernando is the name of another town, and there are, besides, two or three pretty villages. near one of them, called la brea, is a pitch lake composed of bituminous matter floating on fresh water." "i don't think i'd want to take a sail on it," said elsie. "trinidad is a warm place, isn't it, grandma?" "yes; the climate is hot and moist; it is said to be the hottest of the west india islands." "then i'm glad it is winter now when we are going there." "yes; i think winter is the best season for paying a visit there," said her grandma. "i suppose we are going to one of the towns," said ned. "aren't we, papa?" as his father drew near. "yes, to the capital, called port of spain. i was there some years ago. shall i tell you about it?" "oh, yes sir! please do," answered both children, and a number of the grown people drew near to listen. "it is a rather large place, having some thirty or forty thousand inhabitants. outside of the town is a large park, where there are villas belonging to people in good circumstances. they are pleasant, comfortable-looking dwellings with porches and porticoes, gardens in front or lawns with many varieties of trees--bread-fruit, oranges, mangoes, pawpaws--making a pleasant shade and bearing delightful fruits; and there is a great abundance of flowers." "all that sounds very pleasant, captain," said mr. lilburn, "but i fear there must be some unpleasant things to encounter." "mosquitoes, for instance?" queried the captain. "yes, i remember froude's description of one that he says he killed and examined through a glass. bewick, with the inspiration of genius, had drawn his exact likeness as the devil--a long black stroke for a body, a nick for a neck, horns on the head, and a beak for a mouth, spindle arms, and longer spindle legs, two pointed wings and a tail. he goes on to say that he had been warned to be on the lookout for scorpions, centipedes, jiggers, and land crabs, which would bite him if he walked slipperless over the floor in the dark. of those he met none; but the mosquito of trinidad was enough by himself, being, for malice, mockery, and venom of tooth and trumpet, without a match in the world." "dear me, papa, how can anybody live there?" exclaimed grace. "froude speaks of seeking safety in tobacco-smoke," replied her father, with a quizzical smile. "you might do that; or try the only other means of safety mentioned by him--hiding behind the lace curtains with which every bed is provided." "but we can't stay in bed all the time, papa," exclaimed elsie. "no, but most of the time when you are out of bed you keep off the mosquitoes with a fan." "and if we find them quite unendurable we can sail away from trinidad," said violet. "perhaps we are coming to the island at a better time of the year than froude did, as regards the mosquito plague," remarked grandma elsie. "ah, mother, i am afraid they are bad and troublesome all the year round in these warm regions," said harold. "but we can take refuge behind nets a great deal of the time while we are in the mosquito country, and hurry home when we tire of that," remarked violet. "ah, that is a comfortable thought," said mr. lilburn. "and we are fortunate people in having such homes as ours to return to." "yes, we can all say amen to that," said chester, and lucilla started the singing of "home, sweet home," all the others joining in with feeling. the next morning found the "dolphin" lying quietly in the harbor of the port of spain in the great shallow lake known as the gulf of paria, and soon after breakfast all went ashore to visit the city. they enjoyed walking about the wide, shaded streets, and park, gazing with great interest upon the strange and beautiful trees, shrubs and flowers; there were bread-fruit trees, pawpaws, mangoes and oranges, and large and beautiful flowers of many colors. some of our friends had read froude's account of the place and wanted to visit it. from there they went to the botanical gardens and were delighted with the variety of trees and plants entirely new to them. before entering the place, the young people were warned not to taste any of the strange fruits, and grandma elsie and the captain kept watch over them lest the warning should be forgotten or unheeded; though elsie was never known to disobey father or mother, and it was a rare thing, indeed, for ned to do so. they were much interested in all they saw, the glen full of nutmeg trees among the rest; they were from thirty to forty feet high, with leaves of brilliant green, something like the leaves of an orange, folded one over the other, and their lowest branches swept the ground. there were so many strange and beautiful trees, plants and flowers to be seen and admired that our friends spent more than an hour in those gardens. then they hired conveyances and drove about wherever they thought the most attractive scenes were to be found. they were interested in the cabins of the negroes spread along the road on either side and overhung with trees--tamarinds, bread-fruit, orange, limes, citrons, plantains and calabash trees; out of the last named they make their cups and water-jugs. there were cocoa-bushes, too, loaded with purple or yellow pods; there were yams in the garden, cows in the paddocks also; so that it was evident that abundance of good, nourishing, appetizing food was provided them with very little exertion on their part. captain raymond and his party spent some weeks in trinidad and its harbor--usually passing the night aboard the "dolphin"--traveling about the island in cars or carriages, visiting all the interesting spots, going up into the mountains and enjoying the view from thence of the lovely, fertile valleys and plains. then they sailed around the island and anchored again in the harbor of port of spain for the night and to consider and decide upon their next movement. "shall we go up the orinoco?" asked the captain, addressing the company, as all sat together on the deck. there was a moment of silence, each waiting for the others to speak, then mr. dinsmore said: "give us your views on the subject, captain. is there much to attract us there? to interest and instruct? i am really afraid that is a part of my geography in which i am rather rusty." "it is one of the great rivers of south america," said the captain. "it rises in one of the chief mountain chains of guiana. it is a crooked stream--flowing west-south-west, then south-west, then north-west, then north-north-east and after that in an eastward direction to its mouth. the head of uninterrupted navigation is seven hundred and seventy-seven miles from its mouth. above that point there are cataracts. "it has a great many branches, being joined, it is said, by four hundred and thirty-six rivers and upward of two thousand streams; so it drains an area of from two hundred and fifty thousand to six hundred and fifty thousand square miles, as variously estimated. it begins to form its delta one hundred and thirty miles from its mouth, by throwing off a branch which flows northward into the atlantic. it has several navigable mouths, and the main stream is divided by a line of islands, into two channels, each two miles wide. the river is four miles wide at bolivar, a town more than two hundred and fifty miles from the mouth of the river, which is there three hundred and ninety feet deep." "why, it's a grand, big river," said chester. "much obliged for the information, captain. i had forgotten, if i ever knew, that it was so large, and with its many tributaries drained so large a territory." "and do you wish to visit it--or a part of it?" queried the captain. "how is it with you, cousins annis and ronald?" "i am willing--indeed, should prefer--to leave the decision to other members of our party," replied mrs. lilburn, and her husband expressed the same wish to let others decide the question. "what do you say, grandma dinsmore?" asked violet. "i think you look as if you would rather not go." "and that is how i feel--thinking of the mosquitoes," returned the old lady, with a slight laugh. "they certainly are very objectionable," said the captain. "i can't say that i am at all desirous to try them myself. and i doubt if they are more scarce on the amazon than on the orinoco. one traveler there tells us, 'at night it was quite impossible to sleep for mosquitoes; they fell upon us by myriads, and without much piping came straight to our faces as thick as raindrops in a shower. the men crowded into the cabins and tried to expel them by smoke from burnt rags, but it was of little avail, though we were half suffocated by the operation.'" "that certainly does not sound very encouraging, my dear," said violet. "the amazon is a grand river, i know," said harold, "but it would not pay to visit it under so great a drawback to one's comfort; and i am very sure encountering such pests would be by no means beneficial to any one of my patients." "and this one of your patients would not be willing to encounter them, even if such were the prescription of her physician," remarked grace, in a lively tone. "nor would this older one," added grandma elsie, in playful tones. "then we will consider the orinoco as tabooed," said the captain; "and i suppose we shall have to treat the amazon in the same way, as it was at a place upon its banks that one of the writers i just quoted had his most unpleasant experience with the mosquitoes." "well, my dear, if there is a difference of opinion and choice among us--some preferring scenery even with mosquitoes, others no scenery unless it could be had without mosquitoes--suppose we divide our forces--one set land and the other remain on board and journey on up the river." "ah! and which set will you join, little wife?" he asked, with playful look and tone. "whichever one my husband belongs to," she answered. "man and wife are not to be separated." "suppose we take a vote on the question and settle it at once," said lucilla. "a good plan, i think," said harold. "yes," assented the captain. "cousins annis and ronald, please give us your wishes in regard to rivers and mosquitoes." "i admire the rivers, but not the mosquitoes, and would rather do without both than have both," laughed annis, and her husband added, "and my sentiments on the subject coincide exactly with those of my wife." then the question went round the circle, and it appeared that every one thought a sight of the great rivers and the scenery on their banks would be too dearly purchased by venturing in among the clouds of blood-thirsty mosquitoes. "i'm glad," exclaimed ned; "for i'm not a bit fond of mosquitoes; especially not of having them take their meals off me. but i'd like to see those big rivers. papa, won't you tell us something about the amazon?" "yes," said the captain; "it has two other names--maranon and orellana. it is a very large river and has a big mouth--one hundred and fifty miles wide, and the tide enters there and goes up the stream five hundred miles. "from the wide mouth of the amazon, where it empties into the ocean, its water can be distinguished from the other--that of the ocean--for fifty leagues. the amazon is so large and has so many tributaries that it drains two million, five hundred square miles of country. the amazon is the king of rivers. it rises in the western range of the andes, and is little better than a mountain torrent till it has burst through the gorges of the eastern range of the chain, where it is overhung by peaks that tower thousands of feet above its bed. but within three hundred miles from the pacific is a branch, huallagais, large enough and deep enough for steamers, and a few miles farther down the amazon is navigable for vessels drawing five feet; and it grows deeper and deeper and more and more available for large vessels as it rolls on toward the ocean. the outlet of this mighty river is a feeder of the gulf stream. it is only since that the navigation of the amazon has been open, but now regular lines of steamers ply between its mouth and yurimaguas on the huallaga." "are there not many and important exports sent down the amazon?" asked mr. dinsmore. "there are, indeed," replied the captain, "and the fauna of the waters have proved wonderful. agassiz found there, in five months, thirteen hundred species of fish, nearly a thousand of them new, and about twenty new genera. the vacca marina, the largest fish inhabiting fresh waters, and the acara, which carries its young in its mouth, when there is danger, are the denizens of the amazon." "oh," exclaimed elsie, "i'd like to see that fish with its babies in its mouth." "and i should be very sorry to have to carry my children in that way--even if the relative sizes of my mouth and children made it possible," said her mother. "brazil's a big country, isn't it, papa?" asked ned. "yes," said his father; "about as large as the united states would be without alaska." "did columbus discover it, and the spaniards settle it, papa?" he asked. "in the year a companion of columbus landed at cape augustine, near pernambuco, and from there sailed along the coast as far as the orinoco," replied the captain. "in the same year another portuguese commander, driven to the brazilian coast by adverse winds, landed, and taking possession in the name of his monarch named the country terra da vera crux. the first permanent settlement was made by the portuguese in on the island of st. vincent. many settlements were made and abandoned, because of the hostility of the natives and the lack of means, and a huguenot colony, established on the bay of rio de janeiro, in , was broken up by the portuguese in when they founded the present capital, rio de janeiro. "but it is hardly worth while to rehearse all the history of the various attempts to take possession of brazil--attempts made by dutch, portuguese and spanish. french invasion of portugal, in , caused the royal family to flee to brazil, and it became the royal seat of government until , when dom john vi. went back to portugal, leaving his eldest son, dom pedro, as prince regent. "the independence of brazil was proclaimed september , ; and on october th, he was crowned emperor as dom pedro i. he was arbitrary, and that made him so unpopular that he found it best to abdicate, which he did in in favor of his son, then only a child. that boy was crowned in , at the age of fifteen, as dom pedro ii." "gold is to be found in brazil, is it not, papa?" asked grace. "yes," he said, "that country is rich in minerals and precious stones. gold, always accompanied with silver, is found in many of the provinces, and in minas-geraes is especially abundant, and in that and two other of the provinces, diamonds are found; and the opal, amethyst, emerald, ruby, sapphire, tourmaline, topaz and other precious stones are more or less common." "petroleum also is obtained in one or two of the provinces, and there are valuable phosphate deposits on some of the islands," remarked mr. dinsmore, as the captain paused, as if he had finished what he had to say in reply to grace's question. "papa," asked ned, "are there lions and tigers and monkeys in the woods?" "there are dangerous wild beasts--the jaguar being the most common and formidable. and there are other wild, some of them dangerous, beasts--the tiger cat, red wolf, tapir, wild hog, brazilian dog, or wild fox, capybara or water hog, paca, three species of deer, armadillos, sloths, ant-eaters, oppossums, coatis, water-rats, otters and porcupines. squirrels, hares and rabbits are plentiful. there are many species of monkeys, too, and several kinds of bats--vampires among them. on the southern plains, large herds of wild horses are to be found. indeed, brazil can boast a long list of animals. one writer says that he found five hundred species of birds in the amazon valley alone, about thirty distinct species of parrots and twenty varieties of humming-birds. the largest birds are the ouira, a large eagle; the rhea, or american ostrich; and the cariama. along the coasts or in the forest are to be found frigate birds, snowy herons, toucans, ducks, wild peacocks, turkeys, geese and pigeons. among the smaller birds are the oriole, whippoorwill and the uraponga, or bell bird." "those would be pleasant enough to meet," said violet, "but there are plenty of most unpleasant creatures--snakes, for instance." "yes," assented the captain; "there are many serpents; the most venomous are the jararaca and the rattlesnake. the boa-constrictor and anaconda grow very large, and there are at least three species of cobra noted as dangerous. there are many alligators, turtles and lizards. the rivers, lakes and coast-waters literally swarm with fish. agassiz found nearly two thousand species, many of them such as are highly esteemed for food." "and they have big mosquitoes, too, you have told us, papa," said elsie. "many other bugs, too, i suppose?" "yes; big beetles, scorpions and spiders, many kinds of bees, sand-flies and musical crickets, destructive ants, the cochineal insect and the pium, a tiny insect whose bite is poisonous and sometimes dangerous." "please tell us about the woods, papa," said ned. "yes; the forests of the amazon valley are said to be the largest in the world, having fully four hundred species of trees. in marshy places and along streams reeds, grasses and water plants grow in tangled masses, and in the forests the trees crowd each other and are draped with parasitic vines. along the coasts mangroves, mangoes, cocoas, dwarf palms, and the brazil-wood are noticeable. in one of the southern provinces more than forty different kinds of trees are valuable for timber. on the amazon and its branches there are an almost innumerable variety of valuable trees; among them the itauba or stonewood, so named for its durability; the cassia, the cinnamon-tree, the banana, the lime, the myrtle, the guava, the jacaranda or rosewood, the brazilian bread-fruit, whose large seeds are used for food, and many others too numerous to mention; among them the large and lofty cotton-tree, the tall white-trunked seringa or rubber-tree, which furnishes the gum of commerce, and the three or four hundred species of palms. one of those is called the carnaubu palm; it is probably the most valuable, for every part of it is useful, from the wax of its leaves to its edible pith. another is the piassaba palm, whose bark is clothed with a loose fiber used for coarse textile fabrics and for brooms." "why, papa, that's a very useful tree," was little elsie's comment upon that bit of information. "are there fruits and flowers in those forests, papa?" she asked. "yes; those i have already mentioned, with figs, custard-apples and oranges. some european fruits--olives, grapes and water-melons of fine flavor are cultivated in brazil." "if it wasn't for the fierce wild animals and snakes, it would be a nice country to live in, i think," she said; "but taking everything into consideration i very much prefer our own country." "ah, is that so? who shall say that you won't change your mind after a few weeks spent in brazil?" returned her father, with an amused look. "you wouldn't want me to, i know, papa," she returned, with a pleasant little laugh, "for i am very sure you want your children to love their own country better than any other in the world." "yes, my child, i do," he said. then turning to his older passengers and addressing them in general, "i think," he said, "if it is agreeable to you all, we will make a little stop at pará, the maritime emporium of the amazon. i presume you would all like to see that city?" all seemed pleased with the idea, and it was presently settled that that should be their next stopping-place. they all enjoyed their life upon the yacht, but an occasional halt and visit to the shore made an agreeable variety. chapter xiv. their sail about the mouth of the amazon was very interesting to them all, and that up the pará river to the city of the same name, not less so. they found the city evidently a busy and thriving place; its harbor, formed by a curve of the river pará, here twenty miles wide, had at anchor in it a number of large vessels of various nationalities. the "dolphin" anchored among them, and after a little her passengers went ashore for a drive about the city. they found the streets paved and macadamized, the houses with white walls and red-tiled roofs. there were some large and imposing buildings--a cathedral, churches and the president's palace were the principal ones. they visited the public square and beautiful botanic garden. it was not very late in the day when they returned to their yacht, but they--especially dr. harold's patients--were weary enough to enjoy the quiet rest to be found in their ocean home. "what a busy place it is," remarked grandma elsie, as they sat together upon the deck, gazing out upon the city and its harbor. "yes," said the captain, "pará is the mart through which passes the whole commerce of the amazon and its affluents." "and that must, of course, make it a place of importance," said violet. "it was the seat of revolution in ," remarked her grandfather; "houses were destroyed, lives lost--a great many of them--and grass grew in streets which before that had been the center of business." "papa," exclaimed ned, "there's a little boat coming, and a man in it with some little animals." "ah, yes; small monkeys, i think they are," captain raymond said, taking a view over the side of the vessel. then he called to a sailor that he wanted the man allowed to come aboard with whatever he had for sale. in a few moments he was at hand carrying two little monkeys in his arms. he approached the captain and bowing low, hat in hand, addressed him in portuguese, first saying, "good-evening," then going on to tell that these were fine little monkeys--tee-tees--which he had brought for sale, and he went on to talk fluently in praise of the little creatures, which were about the size of a squirrel, of a greyish-olive as to the hair of body and limbs, a rich golden hue on the latter; on the under surface of the body a whitish grey, and the tip of the tail black. "oh, how pretty, how very pretty!" exclaimed little elsie. "papa, won't you buy me one?" "yes, daughter, if you want it," returned the captain, "for i know you will be kind to it and that it will be a safe and pretty pet for you." "and oh, papa, i'd like to have the other one, if i may!" cried ned, fairly dancing with delight at the thought of owning the pretty little creature. the captain smiled and said something to the man, speaking in portuguese, a language spoken and understood by themselves only of all on board the vessel. the man answered, saying, as the captain afterward told the others, that he was very glad to sell both to one person, because the little fellows were brothers and would be company for each other. then a tee-tee was handed to each of the children, the captain gave the man some money, which seemed to please him, and he went away, while elsie and ned rejoiced over and exhibited their pets, fed them and gave them a comfortable sleeping-place for the night. "what lovely, engaging little things they are!" said grandma elsie, as the children carried them away, "the very prettiest monkeys i ever saw." "yes," said the captain, "they are of a very pretty and engaging genus of monkeys; we all noticed the beauty of their fur, from which they are called callithrix or 'beautiful hair.' sometimes they are called squirrel monkeys, partly on account of their shape and size, and partly from their squirrel-like activity. they are light, graceful little creatures. i am hoping my children will have great pleasure with theirs. they are said to attach themselves very strongly to their possessors, and behave with a gentle intelligence that lifts them far above the greater part of the monkey race." "i think i have read that they are good-tempered," said grandma elsie. "yes; they are said to be very amiable, anger seeming to be almost unknown to them. did you not notice the almost infantile innocence in the expression of their countenances?" "yes, i did," she replied; "it was very touching, and made me feel an affection for them at once." "i have read," said evelyn, "that that is very strong when the little creatures are alarmed. that sudden tears will come into their clear hazel eyes, and that they will make a little imploring, shrinking gesture quite irresistible to kind-hearted, sympathetic people." "i was reading about the tee-tees not long ago," said mrs. lilburn; "and one thing i learned was that they had a curious habit of watching the lips of those who speak to them, just as if they could understand the words spoken, and that when they become quite familiar, they are fond of sitting on their friend's shoulder, and laying their tiny fingers on his lips; as if they thought in that way they might discover the mysteries of speech." "poor little darlings! i wish they could talk," exclaimed grace. "i daresay they would make quite as good use of the power of speech as parrots do." "possibly even better," said her father. "they seem to be more affectionate." "do they live in flocks in their own forests, papa?" grace asked. "yes," he replied, "so the traveler, mr. bates, tells us, and that when on the move they take flying leaps from tree to tree." "i am very glad you bought those, papa," she said. "i think they will be a pleasure and amusement to us all." "so do i," said lucilla, "they are so pretty and graceful that i think we will all be inclined to pet them." "so i think," said her father, "they seem to me decidedly the prettiest and most interesting species of monkey i have ever met with." "and it is really pleasant to see how delighted the children are with their new pets," said grandma elsie. "yes," the captain responded, with a pleased smile, "and i have no fear that they will ill-use them." "i am sure they will be kind to them," said violet. "they were much interested in the monkeys we saw in going about the city. i saw quite a number of various species--some pretty large, but most of them small; some at the doors or windows of houses, some in canoes on the river." "yes, i think we all noticed them," said her mother. "yes," said the captain, "i saw several of the _midas ursulus_, a small monkey which i have read is often to be found here in pará. it is, when full grown, only about nine inches long, exclusive of the tail, which is fifteen inches. it has thick black fur with a reddish brown streak down the middle of the back. it is said to be a timid little thing, but when treated kindly becomes very tame and familiar." "what do monkeys eat, papa?" asked grace. "i have been told the little fellows are generally fed on sweet fruits, such as the banana, and that they are also fond of grasshoppers and soft-bodied spiders." "they have some very large and busy ants in this country, haven't they, father?" asked evelyn. "yes," replied the captain. "bates tells of some an inch and a quarter long and stout in proportion, marching in single file through the thickets. they, however, have nothing peculiar or attractive in their habits, though they are giants among ants. but he speaks of another and far more interesting species. it is a great scourge to the brazilians, from its habit of despoiling the most valuable of their cultivated trees of their foliage. in some districts it is such a pest that agriculture is almost impossible. he goes on to say that in their first walks they were puzzled to account for mounds of earth of a different color from the surrounding soil; mounds, some of them very extensive, some forty yards in circumference, but not more than two feet high. but on making inquiries they learned that those mounds were the work of the saubas--the outworks and domes which overlie and protect the entrances to their vast subterranean galleries. on close examination, bates found the earth of which they were made to consist of very minute granules heaped together with cement so as to form many rows of little ridges and turrets. and he learned that the difference in color from the earth around was because of the undersoil having been brought up from a considerable depth to form these mounds." "i should like to see the ants at work upon them," said grace. "it is very rarely that one has the opportunity to do so," said her father. "mr. bates tells us that the entrances are generally closed galleries, opened only now and then when some particular work is going on. he says he succeeded in removing portions of the dome in smaller hillocks, and found that the minor entrances converged, at the depth of about two feet, to one broad, elaborately-worked gallery or mine, which was four or five inches in diameter." "isn't it the ant that clips and carries away leaves?" asked evelyn. "yes, bates speaks of that; says it has long been recorded in books on natural history, and that when employed on that work their procession looks like a multitude of animated leaves on the march. in some places he found an accumulation of such leaves, all circular pieces about the size of sixpence, lying on the pathway, no ants near it, and at some distance from the colony. 'such heaps,' he says, 'are always found to have been removed when the place is revisited the next day. the ants mount the trees in multitudes. each one is a working miner, places itself on the surface of a leaf, and cuts with its sharp, scissors-like jaws, and by a sharp jerk detaches the leaf piece. sometimes they let the leaf drop to the ground, where a little heap accumulates until carried away by another relay of workers; but generally each marches off with the piece he has detached. all take the same road to their colony and the path they follow becomes, in a short time, smooth and bare, looking like the impression of a cart-wheel through the herbage.'" "i am sorry the children have missed all this interesting information," said violet. "never mind, my dear," said her husband, "it can be repeated to them to-morrow. i think there is a storm gathering, and that we are likely to have to stay at home here for a day or two." "should it prove a storm of any violence we may be thankful that we are in this good, safe harbor," remarked mr. dinsmore. "and that we have abundance of good company and good reading matter," added grandma elsie. "yes," responded her father, "those are truly additional causes for thankfulness." "the little monkeys are another," laughed lucilla. "i think we will have some fun with them; and certainly the children are delighted with their new pets." "they certainly are engaging little creatures--very different from those we are accustomed to see going about our streets with organ-grinders," said grandma dinsmore. the children were on deck unusually early the next morning, their pets with them. they found their father, mother, eva and lucilla there. the usual affectionate morning greetings were exchanged; then, smiling down upon elsie and her pet, the captain said, "i think you have not yet tired of your new pet, daughter?" "no, indeed, papa," was the quick, earnest rejoinder, "i'm growing fonder of him every hour. oh, he's just the dearest little fellow!" "and so is mine," added ned. "i think i'll name him tee-tee; and as elsie's is a little smaller than this, she is going to call him tiny." "if papa approves," added elsie. "i am well satisfied," returned their father. "you have begun your day rather earlier than usual," captain raymond went on, addressing the two children, "and i am well pleased that it is so, because now you can take some exercise about the deck, which may be prevented later by a storm," and he glanced up at the sky, where black clouds were gathering. "yes, papa, we will," they answered, and set off at once upon a race round the deck, carrying their pets with them. the storm had begun when the summons to breakfast came, but the faces that gathered about the table were cheerful and bright, the talk also. all agreed that it would be no hardship to have to remain on board for some days with plenty of books and periodicals to read, the pleasant company which they were to each other, and the abundance of fruits and other dainties which the captain always provided. when they were done eating, they repaired to the saloon, held their usual morning service, then sat about singly or in groups, talking, reading, writing, or, if a lady, busied with some fancy work. the children were much taken up with their new pets, fondling them and letting them climb about their shoulders. cousin ronald watched them with interest and pleasure. elsie was standing near, her tiny on her shoulder, gazing into her eyes with a look that seemed to say, "you are so kind to me that i love you already." elsie stroked and patted him, saying, "you dear little pet! i love you already, and mean to take the very best care of you." "thanks, dear little mistress. i am glad to belong to you and mean to be always the best little tee-tee that ever was seen." the words seemed to come from the tee-tee's lips, and its pretty eyes were looking right into elsie's own. "why, you little dear!" she said, with a pleased little laugh, stroking and patting him, then glancing round at cousin ronald, "how well you talk. in english, too, though i don't believe you ever heard the language before you came aboard the 'dolphin.'" "no, we didn't, though we can speak it now as well as any other," ned's pet seemed to say, lifting its head from his shoulder and glancing around at its brother. that brought a merry laugh from its little master. "speak it as much as you please, tee-tee," he said, fondling his pet, "or talk portuguese or any other language you're acquainted with." "i'm afraid they will never be able to talk unless cousin ronald is in the company," said elsie; "or brother max," she added, as an after-thought. "yes, brother max could make them talk just as well," said ned. "oh, here come the letters and papers!" as a sailor came in carrying the mailbag. its contents gave employment to every one for a time, but, after a little, violet, having finished the perusal of her share, called the children to her and gave them an interesting account of the talk of the night before about the strange doings of south american ants. they were much interested, and asked a good many questions. when that subject was exhausted, elsie asked to be told something about rio de janeiro. "there is a maritime province of that name in the south-east part of brazil," her mother said. "i have read that in the southern part of it the scenery is very beautiful. the middle of the province is mountainous. about the city i will read you from the "new international encyclopedia," which your father keeps on board whenever we are using the yacht." she took down the book, opened and read: "'rio de janeiro, generally called rio, the capital of the brazilian empire, and the largest and most important commercial emporium of south america, stands on a magnificent harbor, seventy-five miles west of cape frio. the harbor or bay of rio de janeiro, said, and apparently with justice, to be the most beautiful, secure, and spacious bay in the world, is land-locked, being entered from the south by a passage about a mile in width. it extends inland seventeen miles, and has an extreme breadth of about twelve miles. of its numerous islands, the largest, governor's island, is six miles long. the entrance of the bay, guarded on either side by granite mountains, is deep, and is so safe that the harbor is made without the aid of pilots. on the left of the entrance rises the peak called, from its peculiar shape, sugarloaf mountain; and all round the bay the blue waters are girdled with mountains and lofty hills of every variety of picturesque and fantastic outline. the harbor is protected by a number of fortresses. the city stands on the west shore of the bay, about four miles from its mouth. seven green and mound-like hills diversify its site; and the white-walled and vermillion-roofed houses cluster in the intervening valleys, and climb the eminences in long lines. from the central portion of the city, lines of houses extend four miles in three principal directions. the old town, nearest the bay, is laid out in squares; the streets cross at right angles, are narrow, and are paved and flagged; and the houses, often built of granite, are commonly two stories high. west of it is the elegantly-built new town; and the two districts are separated by the campo de santa anna, an immense square or park, on different parts of which stand an extensive garrison, the town-hall, the national museum, the palace of the senate, the foreign office, a large opera house, etc. from a number of springs which rise on and around mount corcovado (three thousand feet high, and situated three and a half miles southwest of the city) water is conveyed to rio de janeiro by a splendid aqueduct, and supplies the fountains with which the numerous squares are furnished. great municipal improvements have, within recent years, been introduced; most of the streets are now as well paved as those of the finest european capitals; the city is abundantly lighted with gas; and commodious wharfs and quays are built along the water edge. rio de janeiro contains several excellent hospitals and infirmaries, asylums for foundlings and female orphans, and other charitable institutions, some richly endowed; about fifty chapels and churches, generally costly and imposing structures, with rich internal decorations, and several convents and nunneries. in the college of pedro ii., founded in , the various branches of a liberal education are efficiently taught by a staff of eight or nine professors; the imperial academy of medicine, with a full corps of professors, is attended by upward of three hundred students; there is also a theological seminary. the national library contains one hundred thousand volumes.' "there, my dears, i think that is all that will interest you," concluded violet, closing the book. chapter xv. the storm continued for some days, during which the "dolphin" lay quietly at anchor in the bay of pará. it was a quiet, uneventful time for her passengers, but they enjoyed themselves well in each other's society and waited patiently for a change of weather. finally it came; the sun shone, the waves had quieted down and a gentle breeze taken the place of the boisterous wind of the last few days. just as the sun rose, the anchor was lifted and, to the joy of all on board, the yacht went on her way, steaming out of the harbor and then down the coast of brazil; a long voyage, but, under the circumstances, by no means unpleasant to the "dolphin's" passengers, so fond as they were of each other's society. at length they arrived at rio de janeiro. they stayed there long enough to acquaint themselves with its beauties and all that might interest a stranger. all that accomplished, they left for the north, as it was getting near the time when even the invalids might safely return to the cooler climate of that region. it was evening; the children had retired for the night, and all the older ones were together on the deck. a silence that had lasted for some moments was broken by lucilla. "you are taking us home now, i suppose, father?" "i don't remember to have said so," replied the captain, pleasantly, "though very likely i may do so if you all wish it." then violet spoke up in her quick, lively way, "mamma, if you would give us all an invitation to visit viamede, i think it would be just delightful to go there for a week or two; and then chester could see his sisters and their children." "i should be glad to help him to do so; and very glad to have you all my guests at viamede," was the reply, in grandma elsie's own sweet tones. then came a chorus of thanks for her invitation; all seeming much pleased with the idea. "it will be quite a journey," remarked lucilla, in a tone of satisfaction. "you are not weary of life on shipboard, daughter?" her father queried, with a pleased little laugh. "no, indeed, father; i am very fond of life on the 'dolphin.' i suppose that's because of the sailor-blood in me inherited from you." "some of which i have also," said grace; "for i dearly love a voyage in the 'dolphin.'" "which some of the rest of us do without having the excuse of inherited sailor-blood," said harold. "no; that inheritance isn't at all necessary to the enjoyment of life on the 'dolphin,'" remarked chester. "indeed, it is not," said evelyn. "i am a landsman's daughter, but life on this vessel with the dear friends always to be found on it is delightful to me." "and the rest of us can give a like testimony," said mrs. lilburn, and those who had not already spoken gave a hearty assent. "up this south american coast, through the caribbean sea and the gulf of mexico--it will be quite a voyage," remarked lucilla, reflectively. "it is well, indeed, that we are all fond of life on the 'dolphin.'" "yes; you will have had a good deal of it by the time we get home," said her father. "to-morrow is sunday," remarked grandma elsie. "i am very glad we can have services on board. i often find them quite as helpful as those i attend on shore." "yes; i don't know why we shouldn't have services, though there is no licensed preacher among us," said the captain. "certainly, we may all read god's word, talk of it to others, and address to him both prayers and praises." the next morning after breakfast all assembled upon deck, united in prayer and praise, the captain read a sermon, and then mr. lilburn, by request of the others, led them in their bible lesson. "let us take parts of the th and th chapters of numbers for our lesson to-day," he said, reading the passages aloud, then asked, "can you tell me, cousin elsie, where the children of israel were encamped just at that time?" "at kadesh, in what was called the wilderness of paran. it was at a little distance to the southwest of the southern end of the dead sea." "they went and searched the land, as moses directed, and cut down and brought back with them a cluster of grapes, a very large one, it must have been, for they bare it between two upon a staff; also they brought pomegranates and figs. do you know, neddie, what eshcol means?" asked cousin ronald. "no, sir; papa hasn't taught me that yet," replied the little boy. "it means a bunch of grapes," said cousin ronald, smiling kindly on the little fellow. "grace, do you think the spies were truthful?" "they seem to have been, so far as the facts about the country they had just visited were concerned," grace answered, then read, "and they told him, and said, 'we came unto the land whither thou sentest us, and surely it floweth with milk and honey; and this is the fruit of it. nevertheless, the people be strong that dwell in the land, and the cities are walled, and very great; and, moreover, we saw the children of anak there. the amalekites dwell in the land of the south: and the hittites, and the jebusites, and the amorites, dwell in the mountains: and the canaanites dwell by the sea, and by the coast of jordan.'" "truly, a very discouraging report," said mr. lilburn; "for though they described the land as very good and desirable, they evidently considered its inhabitants too strong to be overcome." he then read, "and they brought up an evil report of the land which they had searched unto the children of israel, saying, 'the land, through which we have gone to search it, is a land that eateth up the inhabitants thereof; and all the people that we saw in it are men of a great stature. and there we saw the giants, the sons of anak, which come of the giants: and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.' and what effect had their report upon the people, cousin violet?" he asked. in reply, violet read, "and all the congregation lifted up their voice, and cried; and the people wept that night. and all the children of israel murmured against moses and against aaron: and the whole congregation said unto them, 'would god that we had died in the land of egypt! or would god we had died in this wilderness! and wherefore hath the lord brought us unto this land, to fall by the sword, that our wives and our children should be a prey? were it not better for us to return into egypt?' and they said, one to another, 'let us make a captain, and let us return into egypt.'" it seemed to be mr. dinsmore's turn, and he read, "and joshua, the son of nun; and caleb, the son of jephunneh, which were of them that searched the land, rent their clothes: and they spake unto all the company of the children of israel, saying, 'the land, which we passed through to search it, is exceeding good land. if the lord delight in us, then he will bring us into this land, and give it us; a land which floweth with milk and honey. only rebel not ye against the lord, neither fear ye the people of the land; for they are bread for us: their defense is departed from them, and the lord is with us: fear them not.'" then mrs. dinsmore read, "but all the congregation bade stone them with stones. and the glory of the lord appeared in the tabernacle of the congregation before all the children of israel. and the lord said unto moses, 'how long will this people provoke me? and how long will it be ere they believe me, for all the signs which i have showed among them? i will smite them with the pestilence, and disinherit them, and will make of thee a greater nation and mightier than they.'" "how very childish they were," remarked violet. "why should they wish they had died in the land of egypt, or in the wilderness? that would have been no better than dying where they were. and it does seem strange they could not trust in god when he had given them such wonderful deliverances." "and they said, one to another, 'let us make a captain, and let us return into egypt,'" read harold, adding, "it does seem as though they felt that moses would not do anything so wicked and foolish as going back into egypt." "and they might well feel so," said the captain. "moses was not the man to be discouraged by such difficulties after all the wonders god had shown him and them in egypt and the wilderness." "that is true," said mr. lilburn. "but let us go on to the end of the story. we have read that the lord threatened to smite them with the pestilence, and disinherit them, and make of moses a greater nation and mightier than they. chester, what did moses say in reply?" "and moses said unto the lord, 'then the egyptians shall hear it (for thou broughtest up this people in thy might from among them); and they will tell it to the inhabitants of this land; for they have heard that thou, lord, art among this people, that thou, lord, art seen face to face, and that thy cloud standeth over them, and that thou goest before them, by daytime in the pillar of cloud, and in a pillar of fire by night. now if thou shalt kill all this people as one man, then the nations which have heard the fame of thee will speak, saying, because the lord was not able to bring this people into the land which he sware unto them, therefore he hath slain them in the wilderness. and now, i beseech thee, let the power of my lord be great, according as thou hast spoken, saying, the lord is long-suffering, and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression, and by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation. pardon, i beseech thee, the iniquity of this people according unto the greatness of thy mercy, and as thou hast forgiven this people, from egypt even until now.'" chester paused, and mrs. dinsmore took up the story where he dropped it, reading from her bible, "and the lord said, 'i have pardoned according to thy word: but as truly as i live, all the earth shall be filled with the glory of the lord. because all those men which have seen my glory and my miracles, which i did in egypt and in the wilderness, and have tempted me now these ten times, and have not hearkened to my voice. surely they shall not see the land which i sware unto their fathers, neither shall any of them that provoked me see it: but my servant caleb, because he had another spirit with him, and hath followed me fully, him will i bring into the land whereinto he went; and his seed shall possess it. (now the amalekites and the canaanites dwelt in the valley). to-morrow, turn you, and get you into the wilderness by the red sea.'" "papa, did all those people lose their souls?" asked elsie. "i hope not," he replied. "if they repented and turned to the lord, they were forgiven and reached heaven at last. jesus says, 'come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and i will give you rest. take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for i am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls.'" chapter xvi. "are we going to stop at any of these south american countries, papa?" asked elsie the next day, standing by her father's side on the deck. "i hardly think so," he replied. "it is rather too nearly time to go home." "oh, papa, i'd like ever so much to see our other home, viamede--grandma lets me call it one of my homes--if there is time, and it isn't too far away." "well, daughter," her father said, with a smile, "i think there is time, and the place not too far away--the 'dolphin' being a good-natured yacht that never complains of her long journeys." "oh, papa, are we really going there?" cried the little girl, fairly dancing with delight. "i'll be so glad to see the keith cousins at the cottage, and those at magnolia hall, and the others at torriswood. and i'll show tiny to them, and they'll be sure to be pleased to see him," she added, hugging her pet, which, as usual, she had in her arms. "probably they will," said her father. "do you think of giving him to any one of them?" "give my little pet tiny away? why, papa! no indeed! i couldn't think of such a thing!" she cried, hugging her pet still closer. "i'm fond of him, papa, and i'm pretty sure he's fond of me; he seems to want to snuggle up close to me all the time." "yes; i think he is fond of you and won't want to leave you, except for a little while now and then to run up and down the trees and round the grounds. that will be his play; and when he gets hungry he will go back to you for something to eat." ned, with his pet in his arms, had joined them just in time to hear his father's last sentence. "are you talking about elsie's tiny, papa?" he asked. "yes, my son, and what i said will apply to your tee-tee just as well. i think if my children are good and kind to the little fellows they will not want to run away." "i have been good to him so far," said ned, patting and stroking his pet as he spoke, "and i mean to keep on. papa, where are we going now? elsie and i were talking about it a while ago, and we wondered if we were now on the way home." "would you like to be?" asked his father. "yes, papa; or to go somewhere else first; just as pleases you." "what would you say as to visiting viamede?" "oh, papa, that i'd like it ever so much!" "well, your grandma has given us all an invitation to go there, and we are very likely to accept it. it will make us a little later in getting home than i had intended, but it will be so great a pleasure that i think we will all feel paid." "yes, indeed!" cried ned, dancing up and down in delight, "i think it's just splendid that we can go there. i don't know any lovelier or more delightful place to go to; do you, papa?" "and i'm as glad as you are, ned," said elsie. "let's go and thank grandma. yonder she is in her usual seat under the awning." "yes," said their father, "you owe her thanks, and it would be well to give them at once," and they hastened to do his bidding. grandma elsie was seated with the other ladies of their party in that pleasant spot under the awning, where there were plenty of comfortable seats, and they were protected from sun and shower. the gentlemen were there, too. some were reading and some--the younger ones--chatting and laughing merrily among themselves. into this group the children came rushing, full of excitement and glee. "oh grandma," they cried, talking both at once, "we're so glad we're going to viamede, so much obliged to you for inviting us, because it's such a dear, beautiful place and seems to be one of our homes." "yes, you must consider it so, my dears; because it is mine, and i consider my dear grandchildren as mine, too," was grandma's smiling, affectionate rejoinder. "as i do, mamma," said violet, "and i am sure no children ever had a better, kinder grandmother." "no, indeed," said elsie. "and i think tiny and tee-tee will enjoy being at viamede, too, and climbing up the beautiful trees. papa says they will, but will be glad to come back to us when they get hungry; because we feed them with such things as they like to eat." "it will be a long journey before we get to viamede, won't it, mamma?" asked ned. "yes; a good many miles up this coast of south america, then through the caribbean sea and the gulf of mexico to new orleans, then through teche bayou to viamede. i think it will be a long, pleasant journey. don't you?" "yes, mamma, it is very pleasant to be on our yacht with you and papa and grandma and so many other kind friends." just then the captain joined them. "how long will it take us to get to viamede, papa?" asked ned. "about as long as it would to cross the ocean from our country to europe. and should storms compel us to seek refuge for a time in some harbor, it will, of course, take longer." "will we go back to trinidad?" "hardly, i think; though we will probably pass in sight of the island." "and we are on the coast of brazil now?" "yes; and will be for a week or more." "we are trying life in the 'dolphin' for a good while this winter," said violet. "you are not wearying of it, i hope, my dear?" asked the captain, giving her a rather anxious and troubled look. "oh, no, not at all!" she replied, giving him an affectionate smile, "this winter trip has been a real enjoyment to me thus far." "as it has to all of us, i think," said her mother; and all within hearing joined in with their expressions of pleasure in all they had experienced on the sea or on the land since sailing away from their homes in the "dolphin." "i am half afraid that you gentlemen will find your homes but dull places when you get back to them," remarked lucilla, in a tone of feigned melancholy, sighing deeply as she spoke. "well, for business reasons i shall be glad to get back to my office," said chester. "so it will not be altogether a trying thing to return, even if my home is to be but dull and wearisome." "i don't believe it will be," laughed grace. "lu is never half so hard and disagreeable as she pretends. she has always been the nicest of sisters to me, and i have an idea that she is quite as good a wife." "so have i," said chester. "i know i wouldn't swap wives with any man." "nor i husbands with any woman," laughed lucilla. "i took this man for better or for worse, but there's no worse about it." a merry laugh from little elsie turned all eyes upon her. tiny was curled up on her shoulder, his hazel eyes fixed inquiringly upon her face and one of his fingers gently laid upon her lips. "i think your tiny is wanting to learn to talk," her father said. "he seems to be trying to see how you do it." "oh, do you think he can learn, papa?" she asked, in eager tones. "i don't see why monkeys shouldn't talk as well as parrots." "i do not, either, my child; i only know that they do not." at that instant tiny lifted his head and turned his eyes upon the captain, and some words seemed to come rapidly and in rather an indignant tone from his lips. "i can talk and i will when i want to. my little mistress is very kind and good to me, and i'm growing very fond of her." everybody laughed and elsie said, "i wish it were really his talk. but i know it was cousin ronald who spoke." "ah, little cousin, how much fun you miss by knowing too much," laughed mr. lilburn. then ned's tee-tee seemed to speak. "you needn't make a fuss over my brother. i can talk quite as well as he can." "why, so you can!" exclaimed ned, stroking and patting him. "and i'm glad to have you talk just as much as you will." "thank you, little master; you're very good to me," was the reply. "now, tiny, it is your turn," said elsie to her pet. "i hope you think you are having a good time here on this yacht?" "yes, indeed i do," was the reply. "but where are we going?" "to viamede; a beautiful place in louisiana. and you shall run about over the velvety, flower-spangled lawn, and climb the trees, if you want to, and pick some oranges and bananas for yourself, and have ever such a good time." "that's nice! shall my brother tee-tee have a good time with me, too?" "yes, if you both promise not to run away and leave us." "we'd be very foolish tee-tees if we did." "so i think," laughed elsie, affectionately stroking and patting tiny. "come, tee-tee; it's your turn to talk a little," said ned, patting and stroking his pet. "am i going to that good place tiny's mistress tells about, where they have fine trees to climb and oranges and bananas and other good things to eat?" tee-tee seemed to ask. "yes," replied ned, "if you keep on being a good little fellow you shall go there and have a good time playing about and feasting on the fruits, nuts and other nice things." "then i mean to be good--as good as i know how." "cousin ronald, you do make them talk very nicely," remarked elsie, with satisfaction, adding, "but i do wish they could do it themselves." "i presume they would be glad if they could," said lucilla. "yours watches the movements of your lips, as if he wanted very much to imitate them with his." "and i believe he does," said elsie. "it makes me feel more thankful for the gift of speech than i ever did before." "then it has a good effect," said her father. "so they are useful little creatures, after all," said grace, "though i had thought them only playthings." "i think tiny is the very best plaything that ever i had," said elsie, again stroking and patting the little fellow. "cousin ronald, won't you please make him talk a little more?" "why do you want me to talk so much, little mistress?" tiny seemed to ask. "oh, because i like to hear you and you really mean what you seem to say. do you like to be with us on this nice big yacht?" "pretty well, though i'd rather be among the big trees in the woods where i was born." "i think that must be because you are not quite civilized," laughed elsie. "i'd rather be in those woods, too," tee-tee seemed to say. "let's run away to the woods, tiny, when we get a chance." "ho, ho!" cried ned, "if that's the way you talk you shan't have a chance." "now, ned, you surely wouldn't be so cruel as to keep him if he wants to go back to his native woods," said lucilla. "how would you like to be carried off to a strange place, away from papa and mamma?" "but i ain't a monkey," said ned. "and i don't believe he cares about his father and mother as i do about mine. do you care very much about them, tee-tee?" "not so very much; and i think they've been caught or killed." the words seemed to come from tee-tee's lips and ned exclaimed, triumphantly: "there; he doesn't care a bit." "but it wasn't he that answered; it was cousin ronald." "well, maybe cousin ronald knows how he feels. don't you, cousin ronald?" "ah, i must acknowledge that it is all guess-work, sonny boy," laughed the old gentleman. "well," said ned, reflectively, "i've heard there are some folks who are good at guessing, and i believe you are one of them, cousin ronald." "but i'm not a yankee, you know, and i've heard that they are the folks who are good at guessing," laughed cousin ronald. "but i don't believe they do all the guessing; i think other folks must do some of it," said ned. "quite likely," said cousin ronald; "most folks like to engage in that business once in awhile." "tee-tee," said ned, "i wish you and tiny would talk a little more." "what about little master?" seemed to come in quick response from tiny's lips. "oh, anything you please. all i want is the fun of hearing you talk," said ned. "it wouldn't be polite for us to do all the talking," he seemed to respond; and ned returned, "you needn't mind about the politeness of it. we folks all want to hear you talk, whatever you may say." "but i don't want to talk unless i have something to say," was tiny's answer. "that's right, tiny; you seem to be a sensible fellow," laughed lucilla. "papa, are monkeys mischievous?" asked elsie. "they have that reputation, and certainly some have shown themselves so; therefore, you would better not put temptation in the way of tiny or tee-tee." "and better not trust them too far," said violet. "i'd be sorry to have any of your clothes torn up while we are so far from home." "oh mamma, do you think they would do that?" cried elsie. "i don't know; but i have heard of monkeys meddling with their mistress's clothes, and perhaps tiny doesn't know how much too large even yours would be for her--no for him." "well, mamma, i'll try to keep things out of his way, and i hope he'll realize that a girl's garments are not suitable for a boy monkey," laughed elsie. "do you hear that? and will you remember?" she asked, giving him a little shake and tap which he seemed to take very unconcernedly. "and i'll try to keep my clothes out of tee-tee's way; for i shouldn't like to make trouble for you, mamma, or to wear either holey or patched clothes," said ned. "no," said his father; "so we will hope the little fellows will be honest enough to refrain from meddling with your clothes; at least till we get home." "and i think you will find these pretty little fellows honest, and not meddlesome," said mr. dinsmore. "i have read that they are most engaging little creatures, and from what i have seen of these, i think that is true; they seem to behave with gentle intelligence quite superior to that of any other monkey i ever saw; to have amiable tempers, too, and there is an innocent expression in their countenances, which is very pleasing. i do not think they have as yet had anything to frighten them here, but i have read that when alarmed, sudden tears fill their clear hazel eyes, and they make little imploring, shrinking gestures that excite the sympathy of those to whom they are appealing for protection." "yes, grandpa, i think they do look good, enough better and pleasanter than any other monkey that ever i saw," said ned. "yes," said his father, "it is certainly the most engaging specimen of the monkey family that ever i came across." "children," said violet, "the call to dinner will come in about five minutes. so put away your pets for the present and make yourselves neat for the table." chapter xvii. the "dolphin" sped on her way, and her passengers enjoyed their voyage whether the sun shone or the decks were swept by wind and rain; for the saloon was always a comfortable place of refuge in stormy weather, and by no means an unpleasant one at any time. they were all gathered on the deck one bright, breezy morning, chatting cheerily, the children amusing themselves with their tee-tee pets. "father," said lucilla, "are we not nearing the caribbean sea?" "yes; if all goes well we will be in it by this time to-morrow," was captain raymond's reply. "it is a body of water worth seeing; separated from the gulf of mexico by yucatan, and from the atlantic ocean by the great arch of the antilles, between cuba and trinidad. it forms the turning point in the vast cycle of waters known as the gulf stream that wheels round regularly from southern africa to northern europe. the caribbean sea pours its waters into the gulf of mexico on the west, which shoots forth on the east the florida stream with the computed volume of three thousand mississippis." "but, papa, where does it get so much water to pour out?" asked elsie. "i wonder it didn't get empty long ago." "ah, that is prevented by its taking in as well as pouring out. it gathers water from the atlantic ocean and the amazon and orinoco rivers." "papa, why do they call it by that name--caribbean sea?" asked ned. "it takes its name from the caribs, the people who were living there when columbus discovered the islands," said the captain. "the gulf stream is very important, isn't it, papa?" asked elsie. "the most important and best known of the great ocean currents," he replied. "it flows out of the gulf of mexico, between the coast of florida on one side and the cuba and bahama islands and shoals on the other." "the stream is very broad, isn't it, papa?" asked grace. "about fifty miles in the narrowest portion, and it has a velocity of five miles an hour; pouring along like an immense torrent." "but where does it run to, papa?" asked ned. "first in a northeasterly direction, along the american coast, the current gradually growing wider and less swift, until it reaches the island and banks of newfoundland; then it sweeps across the atlantic, and divides into two portions, one turning eastward toward the azores and coast of morocco, while the other laves the shores of the british islands and norway, also the southern borders of iceland and spitsbergen, nearly as far east as nova zembla." "but how can they tell where it goes when it mixes in with other waters, papa?" asked elsie. "its waters are of a deep indigo blue, while those of the sea are light green," replied her father. "and as it pours out of the gulf of mexico its waters are very warm and full of fish and seaweed in great masses. its waters are so warm that in mid-winter, off the cold coasts of america between cape hatteras and newfoundland, ships beaten back from their harbors by fierce northwesters until loaded down with ice and in danger of foundering, turn their prows to the east and seek relief and comfort in the gulf stream." "don't they have some difficulty in finding it, father?" asked lucilla. "a bank of fog rising like a wall, caused by the condensation of warm vapors meeting a colder atmosphere, marks the edge of the stream," replied the captain. "also the water suddenly changes from green to blue, the climate from winter to summer, and this change is so sudden that when a ship is crossing the line, a difference of thirty degrees of temperature has been marked between the bow and the stern." "papa, i know there used to be pirates in the west indies; was it there that kidd committed his crimes?" "i think not," replied her father. "in his day, piracy on the high seas prevailed to an alarming extent, especially in the indian ocean. it was said that many of the freebooters came from america, and that they found a ready market here for their stolen goods. the king of england--then king of this country, also--wished to put an end to piracy, and instructed the governors of new york and massachusetts to put down these abuses. "it was soon known in new york that the new governor was bent on suppressing piracy. then some men of influence, who knew of kidd as a successful, bold and skilful captain, who had fought against the french and performed some daring exploits, recommended him as commander of the expedition against the pirates. they said he had all the requisite qualifications--skill, courage, large and widely-extended naval experience, and thorough knowledge of the haunts of the pirates 'who prowled between the cape of good hope and the straits of malacca.' "a private company was organized, a vessel bought, called the 'adventure,' equipped with thirty guns, and kidd given command. he sailed to new york, and on his way captured a french ship off the coast of newfoundland. he sailed from the hudson river in january, , crossed the ocean and reached the coast of madagascar, then the great rendezvous of the buccaneers." "and how soon did he begin his piracy, papa?" "i can't tell you exactly, but it soon began to be reported that he was doing so, and in november, , orders were sent to all the governors of english colonies to apprehend him if he came within their jurisdiction. "in april, , he arrived in the west indies in a vessel called 'quidah merchant,' secured her in a lagoon on the island of samoa, southeast of hayti, and then, in a sloop called 'san antonio,' sailed for the north, up the coast into delaware bay, afterward to long island sound, and into oyster bay. he was soon arrested, charged with piracy, sent to england, tried, found guilty and hung." "there were other charges, were there not, captain?" asked mr. dinsmore. "yes, sir; burning houses, massacring peasantry, brutally treating prisoners, and particularly with murdering one of his men, william moore. he had called moore a dog, to which moore replied, 'yes, i am a dog, but it is you that have made me so.' at that, kidd, in a fury of rage, struck him down with a bucket, killing him instantly. it was found impossible to prove piracy against kidd, but he was found guilty of the murder of moore, and on the twenty-fourth of may, , he was hanged with nine of his accomplices." "did he own that he was guilty, papa?" asked grace. "no," replied the captain, "he protested his innocence to the last; said he had been coerced by his men, and that moore was mutinous when he struck him; and there are many who think his trial was high-handed and unfair." "then i hope he didn't deserve quite all that has been said against him," said grace. "i hope not," said her father. chapter xviii. elsie and ned were on deck with their pet tee-tees, which seemed to be in even more than usually playful mood, running round and round the deck and up and down the masts. ned chased after them, trying to catch them, but failing again and again. he grew more and more excited and less careful to avoid mishap in the struggle to capture the little runaways. elsie called after him to "let them have their fun for awhile, and then they would come back to be petted and fed," but he paid no attention to her. he called and whistled to tee-tee, who was high up on a mast. the little fellow stood still for a time, regarding his young master as if he would say, "i'll come when i please, but you can't make me come sooner." so ned read the look, and called up to him, "come down this minute, you little rascal, or i'll be apt to make you sorry you didn't." that did not seem to have any effect, and ned looked about for some one to send up after the little runaway. "have patience, master ned, he'll come down after a bit," said a sailor standing near. "ah, do you see? there he comes now," and turning quickly, ned saw his tee-tee running swiftly down the mast, then along the top of the gunwale, then down on the outside. he rushed to catch him, leaned too far over, and, with a cry of terror, felt himself falling down, down into the sea. a scream from elsie echoed his cry. the sailor who had spoken to ned a moment before, instantly tore off his coat and plunged in after the child, caught him as he rose to the surface, held him with his head out of water, and called for a boat which was already being launched by the other sailors. neither the captain nor any of his older passengers were on deck at the moment; but the cries of the children, the sailor's plunge into the water, and the hurrying of the others to launch the boat were heard in the saloon. "something is wrong!" exclaimed the captain, hurrying to the deck, closely followed by violet, whose cry was, "oh, my children! what has happened to them?" the other members of the party came hurrying after all in great excitement. "don't be alarmed, my dear," said the captain, soothingly, "whatever is wrong can doubtless be set right in a few moments." then, catching sight of his little girl as he gained the deck, and seeing that she was crying bitterly, "elsie daughter, what is it?" he asked. "oh, papa," sobbed the child, "neddie has fallen into the sea, and i'm afraid he's drowned!" before her father could answer, a sailor approached and, bowing respectfully, said: "i think it will be all right, sir, in a few minutes. master ned fell into the water, but tom jones happened to be close at hand, and sprang in right after him and caught him as he came up the first time. then he called to us to lower the boat, and you see it's in the water already, and they're starting after master ned and tom--left considerable behind now by the forward movement of the yacht." "ah, yes; i see them," returned the captain; "the boat, too. violet, my dear, neddie seems to be quite safe, and we will have him on board again in a few minutes." all on the deck watched, in almost breathless suspense, the progress of the small boat through the water, saw it reach and pick up the half-drowning man and boy, and then return to the yacht. in a few moments more ned was in his mother's arms, her tears falling on his face, as she clasped him to her bosom, kissing him over and over again with passionate fondness. "there, vi, dear, you would better give him into my care for a little," said harold. "he wants a good rubbing, dry garments, a dose of something hot and then a good nap." "there, go with uncle harold, dear," said his mother, releasing him. "and papa," said ned, looking up at his father, entreatingly. "yes, little son, papa will go with you," returned the captain, in moved tones. "oh, is my tee-tee drowned?" exclaimed the little fellow, with sudden recollection, and glancing around as he spoke. "no," said harold; "i see him now running around the deck. he's all right." and with that the two gentlemen hurried down into the cabin, taking ned with them. "well, it is a very good plan to always take a doctor along when we go sailing about the world," remarked lucilla, looking after them as they passed down the stairway. "yes; especially when you can find one as skilful, kind and agreeable as our doctor harold," said evelyn. "thank you, my dear," said mrs. travilla, regarding evelyn with a pleased smile, "he seems to me both an excellent physician and a polished gentleman; but mothers are apt to be partial judges; so i am glad to find that your opinion is much the same as mine." grace looked gratified, and violet said: "it seems to be the opinion of all on board." "mine as well as the rest," added lucilla. "chester has improved wonderfully since we set sail on the 'dolphin.'" "quite true," said chester's voice close at hand, he having just returned from a talk with the sailors who had picked up the half-drowning man and boy, "quite true; and i give credit to my doctor, cousin harold; for his advice at least, which i have endeavored to follow carefully. he's a fine, competent physician, if it is a relative who says it. violet, you need have no fear that he won't bring your boy through this thing all right." "i am not at all afraid to trust him--my dear, skilful brother and physician--and i believe he will be able to bring my little son through this trouble," said violet. "no doubt of it," returned chester; "by to-morrow morning little ned will be in usual health and spirits; none the worse for his sudden sea bath." "i can never be thankful enough to tom jones," said violet, with emotion. "he saved the life of my darling boy; for he surely would have drowned before any one else could have got to him." "yes," said chester; "i think he deserves all the praise you can give him." "and something more than praise," said violet and her mother, both speaking at once. "he is not, by any means, a rich man," added violet, "and my husband will certainly find a way to help him into better circumstances." "something in which i shall be glad to assist," added her mother. "neddie is your son, but he is my dear little grandson." "and my great-grandson," added mr. dinsmore, joining the group. "i am truly thankful that tom jones was so near when he fell, and so ready to go to the rescue." "and the engineer to slacken the speed of the vessel, the other sailors to lower and man the boat and go to the rescue," said violet. "yes; they must all be rewarded," said her mother. "it will be a pleasure to me to give them a substantial evidence of the gratitude i feel." "that is just like you, mamma," said violet, with emotion; "but i am sure his father is able, and will be more than willing to do all that is necessary." "yes, indeed!" exclaimed lucilla, "there is no more just or generous person than my father! and he is abundantly able to do all that can be desired to reward any or all who took any part in the saving of my dear little brother." "my dear girl," said grandma elsie, "no one who knows your father can have the least doubt of his generosity and kindness of heart; i am very sure that all the men we were speaking of will have abundant proof of it." "as we all are," said mr. dinsmore. "i'm sure papa will do just what is right; he always does," said little elsie. "and oh, mamma, don't you think that he and uncle harold will soon get dear neddie well of his dreadful dip in the sea?" "i do, daughter," answered violet; "and oh, here come your papa and uncle now!" for at that moment the two gentlemen stepped upon the deck and came swiftly toward them. "oh? how is he--my darling little son?" cried violet, almost breathless with excitement and anxiety. "doing as well as possible," answered her brother, in cheery tone. "he has had a good rubbing down, a hot, soothing potion, been covered up in his berth, and fallen into a sound sleep." "yes," said the captain, "i think he is doing as well as possible, and to-morrow will show himself no worse for his involuntary dip in the sea." "oh, i am so glad, so thankful!" exclaimed violet, tears of joy filling her eyes. "as i am," said his father, his voice trembling with emotion; "we have great cause for thankfulness to the giver of all good. i am very glad your mind is relieved, dearest. but i must go now and thank the men, whose prompt action saved us from a heavy loss and bitter sorrow." he had seated himself by violet's side and put his arm about her, but he rose with those last words, and went forward to where a group of sailors were talking over the episode and rejoicing that it had ended so satisfactorily. they lifted their hats and saluted the captain respectfully as he neared them. "how is the little lad, sir?" asked jones, as he neared them. "no worse for his ducking, i hope." "thank you, jones. i think he will not be any the worse by to-morrow morning," replied the captain. "he is sleeping now, which, i think, is the best thing he could do. jones, he owes his life to you, and i can never cease to be grateful to you for your prompt action in springing instantly to his rescue when he fell into the water." "oh, sir," stammered jones, looking both pleased and embarrassed, "it--it wasn't a bit more than almost any other fellow would have done in my place. and i'm mighty glad i did it, for he's one o' the likeliest little chaps ever i saw!" "he is a very dear one to his father and mother, brother and sisters, and i should like to give to each of you fellows who helped in this thing, some little token of my appreciation of your kindly efforts. i will think it over and have a talk with you again, and you may consider what return i could make that would be the most agreeable and helpful to you." "about how much do you suppose that means?" asked one man of his mates, when the captain had walked away. "perhaps five dollars apiece," chuckled one of the others, "for the captain is pretty generous; and likely jones's share will be twice as much." "nonsense! who wants to be paid for saving that cute little chap from drowning?" growled jones. "i'd have been a coward if i'd indulged in a minute's hesitation." "i s'pose so," returned one of the others, "but you risked your life to save his, so deserve a big reward, and i hope and believe you'll get it." on leaving the group of sailors, the captain went to the pilot-house and gave warm thanks there for the prompt slowing of the "dolphin's" speed the instant the alarm of ned's fall was given. "it was no more than any other man would have done in my place, captain," replied the pilot, with a smile of gratification. "no," returned captain raymond, "some men would have been less prompt and the probable consequence, the loss of my little son's life, which would have been a great loss to his mother and me," he added, with emotion. "i think you are worthy of an increase of pay, mr. clark, and you won't object to it, i suppose?" "no, sir; seeing i have a family to support, i won't refuse your kindness, and i thank you very much for the kind offer." at that moment violet drew near and stood at her husband's side. she spoke in tones trembling with emotion. "i have come to thank you, clark, for the saving of my darling boy's life; for i know that but for the slowing of the engine both jones and he might have lost their lives--sinking before help could reach them." "you are very kind to look at it in that way, mrs. raymond," returned clark, in tones that spoke his appreciation of her grateful feeling, "but it was very little that i did--cost hardly any exertion and no risk. jones is, i think, the only one deserving much, if any, credit for the rescue of the little lad." he paused a moment, then added, "but the captain here has most generously offered me an increase of pay; for which i thank him most heartily." "oh, my dear, i am very glad to hear that!" exclaimed violet, addressing her husband. with the last word, her hand was slipped into his arm, and, with a parting nod to clark, they turned and went back to the family group still gathered upon the deck under the awning. they found elsie with tiny on her shoulder and tee-tee on her lap. "i must take care of them both now for awhile till ned gets over that dreadful sea bath," she said, looking up smilingly at her parents as they drew near. "yes, daughter, that is right," replied her father, "it was no fault of little tee-tee that his young master fell into the sea." that evening violet and the captain had a quiet promenade on the deck together, in which they talked of those who had any share in the rescue of their little ned, and what reward might be appropriate for each one. "i have heard there is a mortgage on the farm which is the home of tom jones and his mother," said the captain. "i will pay that off as my gift to tom, in recognition of his bravery and kindness in risking his own life in the effort to save that of our little son." "do," said violet, joyfully; "he certainly deserves it, and probably there is nothing he would like better." "he is certainly entitled to the largest reward i give," said the captain, "though i daresay almost any of the others would have acted just as he did, if they had had the same opportunity." ned slept well under his uncle's care that night, and the next morning appeared at the breakfast table looking much as usual, and saying, in answer to loving inquiries, that he felt as if nothing had happened to him; not a bit the worse for his bath in the sea. nor was he disposed to blame tee-tee for his involuntary plunge into the water; the two were evidently as fast friends as ever. after breakfast the captain had a talk, first with jones, then with the other men, in which each learned what his reward was to be. jones was almost too much moved for speech when told of his, but expressed his gratitude more fully afterward, saying, "it is a blessed thing to have a home of one's own; especially when it can be shared with one's mother. dear me, but won't she be glad!" and the others were highly pleased with the ten dollars apiece which fell to their shares. chapter xix. the yacht had now passed from the caribbean sea into the gulf of mexico and was headed for new orleans, where they arrived safely and in due season. they did not care to visit the city--most of them having been there several times, and all wanting to spend at viamede the few days they could spare for rest and pleasure before returning to their more northern homes. so they tarried but a few hours at the crescent city, then pursued their way along the gulf, up the bay into teche bayou and beyond through lake and lakelet, past plantation and swamp, plain and forest; enjoying the scenery as of old--the beautiful velvety green lawns, shaded by their magnificent oaks and magnolias, cool shady dells carpeted with a rich growth of flowers; tall white sugar-houses and long rows of cabins for the laborers; and lordly villas peering through groves of orange trees. a pleasant surprise awaited them as they rounded at the wharf--at viamede; a great gathering of friends and relatives--not only from the immediate neighborhood, but from that of their more northern homes--edward travilla and his family, elsie leland and hers, rose croly with her little one. it was a glad surprise to violet, for her mother had not told her they had all been invited to spend the winter at viamede, and had accepted the invitation. the cousins from magnolia hall, torriswood and the cottage were all there. it seemed a joyful meeting to all; to none more so than to chester and his sisters. it was their first meeting since his marriage, and they seemed glad to call lucilla sister. "you must be our guest at torriswood, lu; you and brother chester," said maud, when greetings were over, and the new arrivals were removing their hats in one of the dressing-rooms. "thank you, maud, of course we will spend a part--probably most of our time with you," replied lucilla. "i expect to have a delightful time both there and here." "you shall there, if i can bring it about," laughed maud. "i want you also, young mrs. raymond," she added, in playful tones, turning to evelyn. "you will come, won't you?" "thank you, i think i shall," was eva's pleased reply. "you are wanted, too, gracie," continued maud. "and dr. harold is to be invited, and i hope will accept, for he is a great favorite with us ever since he saved dick's life." "i think it entirely right that he should be," returned grace, demurely, "and his presence will be no serious objection to me; in fact, as he is my physician, it might be very well to have him close at hand, in case i should be taken suddenly ill." "very true," said maud, bridling playfully, "though if he were not there, dr. percival might possibly prove an efficient substitute." there was a general laugh at that, and all hastened to join the rest of the company who were gathered upon the front veranda. elsie and ned were there with their new pets, which seemed to be attracting a good deal of attention. elsie was sitting by her mother's side, with tiny on her shoulder, and ned stood near them with tee-tee in his arms, stroking and patting him while he told how the little fellow had frightened him in his gambols about the yacht till, in trying to save him from falling into the sea, he had tumbled in himself. "very foolish in you to risk your life for me, little master," tee-tee seemed to say, as ned reached that part of his story. ned laughed, saying, "so you think, do you?" "oh, it can talk! it can talk!" cried several of the children in astonishment and delight, while their elders turned with amused, inquiring looks to cousin ronald, the known ventriloquist of the family. "yes, little master, so don't you do it ever again," seemed to come from tee-tee's lips. "no, indeed, i think i won't," laughed ned. "i can talk, too; quite as well as my brother can," seemed to come from tiny's lips. "yes, so you can, my pretty pet," laughed elsie, giving him an approving pat. "oh, oh! they can both talk!" exclaimed several of the children. "and speak good english, too, though they come from a land where it is not commonly spoken," laughed chester. "but we heard english on the yacht, and we can learn fast," was tee-tee's answering remark. "especially when you can get cousin ronald to help you," laughed ned. "there, ned, i'm afraid you've let the cat out of the bag," laughed lucilla. "i don't see either cat or bag," sniffed ned, after an inquiring look around. "your sister means that you are letting out a secret," said his father. "oh, was i? i hope not," exclaimed the little fellow, looking rather crestfallen. "how does cousin ronald help him?" asked one of the little cousins. "i don't know," said ned; "i couldn't do it." the call to the supper-table just at that moment saved cousin ronald the trouble of answering the inquiring looks directed at him. after the meal, all resorted again to the veranda, and the little tee-tees, having had their supper in the kitchen, were again a source of amusement, especially to the children. "did the folks give you plenty to eat, tee-tee?" asked ned. "all we wanted, and very nice, too," the little fellow seemed to say in reply. "and he ate like--like a hungry bear; a great deal more than i did," tiny seemed to say. "well, i'm bigger than you," was tee-tee's answering remark. "and both of you are very, very little; too little to eat much, i should think," laughed one of the children. "i've heard that they put the best goods in the smallest packages," tee-tee seemed to say; then suddenly he sprang out of ned's arms, jumped over the veranda railing, ran swiftly across the lawn and up an orange tree, tiny leaving elsie and racing after him. "oh, dear, dear! what shall we do? will they ever come back?" cried elsie, tears filling her eyes as she spoke. "i think they will, daughter," said the captain, soothingly. "do you forget that i told you they would run up the trees? you and ned have been so kind to them, petted them and fed them so well that they'll be glad, i think, to continue in your care, but now, like children, they want a little fun, such as they have been accustomed to in their forest life." that assurance comforted the young owners somewhat, and they chatted pleasantly with the other children until it was time for them to leave, but kept watching the tee-tees frisking about in that tree and others on the lawn, hoping they would weary of their fun and come back to them. but they had not done so when the guests took leave, nor when bedtime came, but the captain comforted the children again with the hope that the tee-tees would finish their frolic and return the next day; which they did, to the great joy of their young master and mistress. maud's invitation was accepted by all to whom she or dick had given it. magnolia hall and the parsonage claimed several of the others, and the rest were easily and well accommodated at viamede. all felt themselves heartily welcome, and greatly enjoyed their sojourn of some weeks in that hospitable neighborhood and among near and dear relatives. fortunately for ned, his remark about cousin ronald helping the tee-tees with their talk, did not have the bad effect that he feared, and the older friends did not explain; so there was more fun of the same kind when the children were together and the kind old gentleman with them. as the stay of grandma elsie and her party was to be short, there was a constant interchange of visits between them and the relatives resident in the neighborhood, and much to the delight of the children, the little tee-tees were on constant exhibition. sometimes they were to be seen darting here and there over the lawn, running up and down the trees or springing from one to another; but often, to the greater pleasure of the young folks, they were on the veranda, chasing each other round and round, or sitting on the shoulder of elsie or ned. then if cousin ronald happened to be present, they seemed to be in the mood for conversation. "i like this place, tiny, don't you?" tee-tee seemed to ask one day, when they had just returned from a scamper over the lawn and up and down the trees. "yes, indeed!" was the reply. "it's nicer than that vessel we came in. let's stay here." "oh, we can't. i heard the captain talking about going back, and they'll certainly want to take us along." "but don't let us go. we can hide in the woods where they can't find us." "i think not," laughed elsie; "we value you too much not to hunt you up before we go." "dear me! i'd take good care they didn't get a chance to play that game," exclaimed one of the little cousins. "i think the best plan will be to pet them so much that they won't be willing to be left behind," said elsie. "and that's what we'll do," said ned. just then there was an arrival from torriswood and that put a stop, for the time, to the chatter of the tee-tees. dr. percival and his maud, with their guests from the north, were of the party, and all remained until near bedtime that night, when they went away with the pleasant assurance that the whole connection at that time in that neighborhood would spend the following day with them in their lovely torriswood home, should nothing occur to prevent. nothing did; the day was bright and beautiful, and not one of the relatives was missing from the pleasant gathering. to the joy of elsie and ned raymond, not even the tee-tees were neglected in the invitation, and with some assistance from cousin ronald they made a good deal of fun, for at least the younger part of the company. the next day was spent by the same company at magnolia hall, and a few days later most of them gathered at the pretty parsonage, where dwelt cyril and isadore keith. cyril was a much-loved and successful pastor, an excellent preacher, whose sermons were greatly enjoyed by those of the "dolphin" party who were old enough to appreciate them. the parsonage and its grounds made a lovely home for the pastor, his wife and the children with which providence had blessed them, and the family party held there, the last of the series, was found by all quite as enjoyable as any that had preceded it. after that the old pastimes--rides, drives, boating and fishing excursions--were resumed, also the quiet home pleasures and rambles through the woods and fields; for they found they could not tear themselves away as quickly as they had intended when they planned to end their winter trip--leaving the return journey out of the calculation--with a short visit to viamede. that neighborhood, with its pleasant companionship, was too delightful to be left until the increasing heat of the advancing spring should make it less comfortable and healthful for them than their more northern homes. so there let us leave them for the present. the end. transcriber's note: obvious printer errors have been corrected. otherwise, the author's original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact. transcriber's note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. the oe ligature (one occurrence) has been replaced by 'oe'. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. more detail can be found at the end of the book. the following pages, originally intended for their amusement, are dedicated to my children. oracles from the poets. i am sir oracle, and when i ope my lips let no dog bark. _merchant of venice._ oracles from the poets: a fanciful diversion for the drawing-room. by caroline gilman. the enthusiast sybil there divinely taught, writes on loose foliage inspiration's thought. she sings the fates, and in her frantic fits the notes and names inscribed to leaves commits. _dryden's and symmon's virgil._ _macbeth._ i conjure you, by that which you profess, (howe'er you come to know it,) answer me. _first witch._ speak. _second witch._ demand. _third witch._ we'll answer. new york: john wiley (old stand of "wiley and putnam"), broadway: and paternoster row, london. . entered according to act of congress, in the year , by wiley & putnam. in the clerk's office of the district court of the united states for the southern district of new york. stereotyped by richard c. valentine, gold-street, new york. preface. i was led to arrange "the oracles from the poets," by observing the vivid interest taken by persons of all ages in a very common-place fortune-teller in the hands of a young girl. it occurred to me that i might avail myself of this love of the mysterious, for the intellectual enjoyment of my family circle. instead, however, of the pastime of a few days, it has been the work of every leisure moment for six months. the first movement was the pebble thrown into the stream; circle after circle formed, until i found, with old thomas heywood, "my pen was dipt as well in opening each hid manuscript, as tracts more vulgar, whether read or sung in our domestic or more foreign tongue." how rich these six months have been in the purest and highest enjoyment, i will not stop to say; but to be allowed to float in such an atmosphere, buoyed up with the sweetest sympathies of friends, may be conceived to be no common happiness. and now, with the hope of communicating a portion of this pleasure more extensively, i yield this volume up as a public offering, for the advancement of those rational social enjoyments which seem to belong to the moral movement of the age. i do not know how far early associations may have influenced me, but i distinctly recollect the first oracle of my childhood. at the age of eight years i attended a female seminary in a village. the classes were allowed a half hour for recreation, and they usually played on the green within view of the academy building. one day i observed a group of girls of the senior class pass beyond the bounds and enter the church, which was opened for some approaching occasional service. i followed quietly. they walked through the aisle with agitated whispers, and ascended to the pulpit. then each, in turn, opening the large bible, laid a finger, with closed eyes, on a verse, and read it aloud, as indicating her fate or character. i well remember the eagerness with which i listened on the stairs, for i was afraid to crowd into the pulpit with the _big_ girls. as they retired, i entered. i can recall the timid feeling with which i glanced round the shadowy building, the awe with which i closed my eyes and placed my small finger on the broad page, and the faith with which i read my _oracle_. i must make an early apology for venturing to alter the tenses of authors so as to conform to answers. i tried the method of literal extracts, but they were deficient in spirit and directness. i can now only warn my readers not to quote the oracles habitually, as exact transcripts, but resort to the originals. i have trembled as if it were sacrilege to turn thus the streams of helicon into this little channel, but i hope the evil may be balanced by the increased acquaintance of many with slighted authors. i have not allowed myself to select from periodicals, though american journals contain perhaps more favorable specimens of our literature than the published volumes to which i have felt bound to confine myself. my selections have extended so far beyond the limits of my plan, that i propose furnishing another volume, in the course of the year, with additional questions, including translations from popular authors. one question in the present volume, _to what have you a distaste or aversion?_ is, i think, nearly exhausted, while its opposite, _what gratifies your taste or affections?_ presents still an ample field for gleaning. will this furnish any argument against those ascetics, who think misery preponderates over happiness? one fanciful question in the succeeding volume will be, _what is the name of your lady-love?_ and another, _of him who loves you_? i shall consider with respectful attention friendly suggestions made to me directly, or through my publishers, preparatory to the arrangement of another volume, particularly in bringing to view any poet, who, by accident, may have escaped attention. i have been urged to communicate, in a preface, the literary results which have necessarily flowed from the examination and comparison of such a mass of poets, but the task is beyond the limits of this humble effort. it would, indeed, be a rich field for a schlegel or de stäel. a few curious speculations, however, may present themselves to the most superficial critic. in shakspeare, for instance, so affluent in various delineations of character and personal appearance, i looked in vain for places of residence. there seemed not to be even a fair proportion of passages descriptive of musical sounds, hours, seasons, and (except in the winter's tale) of flowers. in wordsworth, scarcely a flower or musical sound is described. they are alluded to, but not painted out. the poetry of crabbe, though abounding in numerous characters, could surrender almost none for my purpose, on account of their being woven into the general strain of his narratives. shelley, landon, and howitt, are eminently the poets of flowers, while darwin, with a whole _botanic garden_ before him, and mason, in his _english garden_, gave me, i think, none that i conceived fairly entitled to selection. few passages of any sort, except those hackneyed into adages, could be gained from milton, on account of the abstract, lofty, and continuous flow of his diction. coleridge has corresponding peculiarities. keats and shelley are the poets of the heavens. byron, with faint exceptions, does not describe a flower, or musical sound, or place of residence. the american poets, in contradistinction to their elder and superior brethren of the fatherland, display a more marked devotion to nature, with which a continual glow of religious sentiment aptly harmonizes. but i am recalled by these lengthening paragraphs to my disclaimer, and only wish that an abler and more philosophical pen than mine could take my recent experience. after a close examination of the earlier dramatic poets, though i have rescued from them some exquisite gems, it seems to me far from desirable that they should be brought forward as prominently as many of their wordy commentators desire. a kind of pure instinct in the british taste has placed shakspeare without a brother on the throne. the fathers of dramatic poetry acted according to their light, but it was not the "true light." a few relics, selected with caution, may honor their memory, but we should be careful while warning our youth against the impurities of some modern poets, how we extol these vulgarities of a darker moral age. before parting i must ask clemency for classing all my authors among _poets_, that great word so deservedly sacred, and to which i bow with deep reverence; but the parnassus of my oracles has many steps, and i cannot but feel kindly towards those, who sit gracefully even on the lower platform, nor apprehend that they will do more than look up deferentially to the laurel-crowned worthies at its summit. besides, it has been the character of my taste, or perhaps philosophy, whenever literally or figuratively i gather a wreath of flowers, to twine the wild blossom as heartily as the exotic, and even insert a weed, if its color or contrast lends beauty to the combination;--and thus with my oracles. catalogue of authors quoted in the oracles. english. akenside addison bloomfield bowring bayley barbauld burns beattie byron bowles baillie barton browne butler beaumont and fletcher croly cowper carew cowley collins congreve campbell chatterton cibber cunningham cook coleridge crabbe cornwall cumberland chaucer coleman clark churchill carrington crashaw dryden darwin elliott ferguson falconer gray goldsmith gay gisborne grahame howitt hemans home habington hunt hogg hayley hammond hastings herbert hood king james johnson jones jonson keats kemble landon lee lamb lyttleton miller motherwell massinger moore milton mitford more mason murphy massinger milman montgomery mackenzie macaulay macneil maturin norton ossian pollok pope prior pomfret percy's reliques ramsay rowe rogers roscoe shelley shakspeare southey sheridan spenser sotheby sterling shenstone swift scott smith somerville taylor, john tennent thomson tighe talfourd tennyson tobin taylor thom vaux wordsworth wilson williams white wotton warton watts wolcott webster young american. aldrich bryant brooks bulfinch benjamin burleigh bancroft brainard charlton clark carey coxe cranch child crafts dana, mrs. davidson, m. dana, r. h. drake dawes davidson, l. dinnies dickson doane embury emerson ellet follen fairfield fay gallagher gould gilman, s. goodrich gilman, c. greene holmes hill harvey halleck hillhouse hale hosmer harrington james lee longfellow lowell lewis lunt mclellan morris mellen moise miller neal noble nack osgood percival peters pierpont prentice peabody pierson pike payne smith street simms sargent sands sigourney sprague scott tuckerman willis whittier ware, h. wells welby mrs. ware wilde whitman wilcox woodworth the game of the oracles is composed of the following fourteen questions, with sixty answers each, numbered. what is your character?--gentleman. page what is your character?--lady. " what is the personal appearance of your lady-love? " what is the personal appearance of him who loves you? " what is the character of your lady-love? " what is the character of him who loves you? " what season of the year do you love? " what hour do you love? " what musical sounds do you love? " what is your favorite flower? " what gratifies your taste or affections? " for what have you a distaste or aversion? " where or what will be your residence? " what is your destiny? " directions for the game of the oracles from the poets. for a fortune-teller with two persons. the person who holds the book asks, for instance, what is your character? the individual questioned selects any one of the sixty answers under that head, say no. , and the questioner reads aloud the answer no. , which will be the oracle. for a round game. where there are more than six persons present, it will be well to select the following questions, as the game, connected with the discussions to which it will probably give rise, will be too protracted by introducing the whole, and the remaining questions are of a sentimental rather than personal class. what is your character?--gentleman. page what is your character?--lady. " what is the personal appearance of your lady-love? " what is the personal appearance of him who loves you? " what is the character of your lady-love? " what is the character of him who loves you? " where or what will be your place of residence? " what is your destiny? " a questioner having been selected, he calls on each individual to choose a number under the question proposed, and reads each answer aloud as the number is mentioned. if the party agree to the arrangement, the author of the oracle can be demanded by the questioner, and a forfeit paid in case of ignorance, or a premium given for a correct answer. if the person whose oracle is read cannot tell the author, any one of the party may be allowed a trial in turn, and receive the premium. what is your character? gentleman. all our knowledge is ourselves to know. pope. oh, wad some power the giftie gie us, to see oursels as others see us; it wad frae monie a blunder free us and foolish notion! burns. what is your character? gentleman. . you kiss not where you wish to kill, you feign not love where most you hate, you break no sleep to win your will, you wait not at the mighty's gate. lord vaux. . e'en your failings lean to virtue's side. goldsmith. . polite, yet virtuous, you have brought away the manners, not the morals of the day. cowper. . _thou_ art slow to science; the chart and letter'd page have in them no deep spell whereby thy spirit to engage; but rather thou wouldst sail thy boat, or sound thy bugle-horn, or track the sportsman's triumph through the fields of waving corn, than o'er the ponderous histories of other ages bend, or dwell upon the sweetest page that ever poet penn'd. mrs. norton. . a spider you may best be liken'd to, which creature is an adept, not alone in workmanship of nice geometry, but is beside a wary politician. taylor. . i know thee brave,-- a counsellor subtle, and a leader proved,-- with wisdom fitting for a king's right hand; firm in resolve, nor from thy purpose moved: then what lack'st thou to render thee beloved? thou'st wooed and won a gentle heart, and more,-- hast trampled it to dust. allan cunningham. . i would rather wed a man of dough, such as some school-girl, when the pie is made, to amuse her childish fancy, kneads at hazard out of the remnant paste. john tobin. . thou, with a lofty soul, whose course the thoughtless oft condemn, art touch'd by many airs from heaven which never breathe on them. moved too by many impulses, which they do never know, who round their earth-bound circles plod the dusty paths below. albert g. greene. . you look the whole world in the face, for you owe not any man. longfellow. . you loiter, lounge, are lank and lazy, though nothing ails you, yet uneasy; your days insipid, dull, and tasteless, your nights unquiet, long, and restless; and e'en your sports at balls and races, your galloping through public places, have sic parade, and pomp, and art, the joy can scarcely reach the heart. burns--_twa dogs_. . thou'st never bent at glory's shrine, to wealth thou'st never bow'd the knee, beauty has heard no vows of thine, thou lovest _ease_. r. h. wilde. . a gentleman of all temperance. _measure for measure._ . you are positive and fretful, heedless, ignorant, forgetful. swift. . there is one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches, the secret of their mastery--they're short. halleck. . for contemplation framed, shy and unpractised in the strife of phrase, yours is the language of the heavens, the power, the thought, the image, and the _silent_ joy. words are but under-agents in your soul. wordsworth. . you take delight in others' excellence, a gift which nature rarely doth dispense; of all that breathe, 'tis you, perhaps, alone, would be well pleased to see yourself outdone. young--_epistles_. . you are the punch to stir up trouble, you wriggle, fidge, and make a riot, put all your brother puppets out. swift. . you'd shake hands with a king upon his throne, and think it kindness to his majesty. halleck. . the meanest thing, earth's feeblest worm, you fear to scorn or hate; but honor in a peasant's form the equal of the great. ebenezer elliott. . you may be thrown among the gay and reckless sons of life, but will not love the revel scene or head the brawling strife. eliza cook. . you are one, who can play off your smiles and courtesies to every lady, of her lap-dog tired, who wants a plaything. southey. . come, rouse thee now;--i know thy mind, and would its strength awaken; proud, gifted, noble, ardent, kind. anna p. dinnies. . in choice of morsels for the body, nice are you, and scrupulous;-- and every composition know of cookery. pollok--_course of time_. . a man thou seem'st of cheerful yesterdays, and confident to-morrows. wordsworth. . sir, i confess you to be one well read in men and manners, and that usually the most ungovern'd persons, you being present, rather subject themselves unto your censure, than give you least occasion of distaste, by making you the subject of their mirth. ben jonson. . when nae real ills perplex you, you make enow yoursel' to vex you. burns. . you speak an infinite deal of nothing. _merchant of venice._ . calm, serene, your thoughts are clear and honest, and your words, still chosen most gently, are not yet disguised to please the ear of tingling vanity. w. g. simms. . large is your bounty, and your soul sincere; heaven does a recompense as largely send: you give to misery all you have--a tear; you gain from heaven, 'tis all you ask--a friend. gray. . you worship god with inward zeal, and serve him in each deed; yet will not blame another's faith, nor have one martyr bleed. eliza cook. . silent when glad, affectionate though shy; and now your look is most demurely sad; and now you laugh aloud, yet none know why,-- some deem you wondrous wise, and some believe you mad. beattie--_minstrel_. . you act upon the prudent plan, "say little, and hear all you can:" safe policy, but hateful. cowper. . you are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, generally allowed for your many warlike, courtlike, and learned preparations. _merry wives of windsor._ . so gentle, yet so brisk, so wondrous sweet, just fit to prattle at a lady's feet. churchill. . lord of yourself, though not of lands, you, having nothing, yet have all. sir henry wotton. . no change comes o'er thy noble brow, though ruin is around thee; thine eye-beam burns as proudly now as when the laurel crown'd thee. mrs. child. . some have too much, yet still they crave; you little have, yet seek no more; they are but poor, though much they have, and you are rich with little store. they poor, you rich; they beg, you give; they lack, you lend; they pine, you live. lord vaux. . with every shifting gale your course you ply, forever sunk too low or borne too high. pope. . you will not bow unto the common things men make their idols. you will stand apart from common men; your sensual appetite shall be subservient to your loftier soul. mary howitt. . sloth, the nurse of vices, and rust of action, is a stranger to you. massinger. . the worth of the three kingdoms i defy to lower you to the standard of a lie. cowper. . i have some comfort in this fellow; he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. _tempest._ . you lacke no witte, you speke whatte bee the trouthe, and whatte all see is ryghte. rowley--(_chatterton._) . a man resolved and steady to his trust, inflexible to ill, and obstinately just. dr. watts. . i know thy generous temper well; fling but the appearance of dishonor on it, it straight takes fire, and mounts into a blaze. addison--_cato._ . just like a snail through life's dull path you creep, your whole existence but a waking sleep. r. m. charlton. . your nature is, that you incline to hope rather than fear, and gladly banish squint suspicion. milton--_comus._ . a right tender heart, melting and easy, yielding to impression, and catching the soft flame from each new beauty. rowe--_jane shore._ . the ruby lip, the sparkling eye, all unavailing prove; wandering from fair to fair you fly, but will not learn to love. dr. s. h. dickson. . never credit me, if i don't think thee more stupid, yea, more obtusely, intensely, and impenetrably thick-skulled, than ever man or woman was before thee. fanny kemble--_star of seville._ . some deem you are a surly man, but _they_ know not your griefs and fears, how you have been beloved by one, whose image lies "too deep for tears." thomas miller. . one charm, we in your graceful character observe; that though your passions burn with high impatience, and sometimes, from a noble heat of nature, are ready to fly off, yet the least check of ruling reason brings them back to temper, and gentle softness. thomson--_tancred and sigismunda._ . you are the fellow at the chimney corner, who keeps the fire alive that warms us all. fanny kemble. . you love, and would be loved again; do but confess it;--you possess a soul, that what it wishes, wishes ardently. you would believe you hated, had you power to love with moderation hill--_zara_. . a soul too great, too just, too noble to be happy. cibber--_zimena_. . though straiter bounds your fortune does confine, in your large heart is found a wealthy mine waller. . your heart has settled in a sea of pride, till every part is cold and petrified. miss h. f. gould. . your mirth is the pure spirits of various wit, yet never doth your god or friends forget; and when deep talk and wisdom come in view, retires, and gives to them their due cowley. . you are young, and of that mould which throws out heroes; fair in favor, and doubtlessly, with such a form and heart, would look into the fiery eyes of war. byron--_werner_. . calm as evening skies is your pure mind, and lighted up with hopes that open heaven. thomson--_tancred and sigismunda_. what is your character? lady. nevill.--know'st thou how slight a thing a woman is? scudmore.--yes; and how serious too. nathaniel field-- _woman's a weathercock. a comedy_. from lamb's specimens of old dramatic poets. what is your character? lady. . none know thee but to love thee, none name thee but to praise. halleck. . oh, thou wilt ever be what now thou art, nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring; as fair in form, as warm, yet pure in heart, love's image upon earth without its sting. byron. . ever o'er thy soul a shadow lies, still darkest, when life wears the sunniest skies; and even when with bliss thy heart beats high, the swell subsides into a plaintive sigh. mrs. pierson. . sometimes will you laugh, and sometimes cry, then sudden you wax wroth, and all you know not why. thomson. . thou doest little kindnesses, which most leave undone or despise; for naught that sets one heart at ease, and giveth happiness or peace, is low esteemed in thy eyes. james r. lowell. . thou art merry and free, thou carest for naebody, if naebody care for thee. burns. . women love you, that you are a woman more worth than any man; men, that you are the rarest of all women. _winter's tale._ . not only good and kind, but strong and elevated is thy mind; a spirit that with noble pride can look superior down on fortune's smile or frown; that can, without regret or pain, to virtue's lowest duty sacrifice. lord lyttleton. . at table you are scrupulous withal; no morsel from your lips do you let fall, nor in your sauce will dip your fingers deep. well can you carry a morsel, and well keep, that not a drop e'er falls upon your breast. in courtesy your pleasure much doth rest. your dainty upper lip you wipe so clean, that in your cup there is no farthing seen of grease, when you have drunk; and for your meat, full seemly bend you forward on your seat. chaucer. . you have a natural, wise sincerity, a simple truthfulness; and though yourself not unacquaint with care, have in your heart wide room. james r. lowell. . what you do still betters what is done; when you speak, sweet, we'd have you do it ever. _winter's tale._ . an inward light to guide thee, unto thy soul is given, pure and serene as its divine original in heaven. james aldrich. . you have no gift at all in shrewishness, you are a right woman for your cowardice. _midsummer night's dream._ . the world has won thee, lady, and thy joys are placed in trifles, fashions, follies, toys. crabbe. . mishap goes o'er thee like a summer cloud; cares thou hast none, and they who stand to hear thee, catch the infection and forget their own. rogers--_italy_. . nature for her favorite child, in thee hath temper'd so her clay, that every hour thy heart runs wild, yet never once doth go astray. wordsworth. . your only labor is to kill the time, and labor dire it is, and weary wo; you sit, you loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme, then rising, sudden to the glass you go. thomson. . you will die if ---- love you not; and you will die ere you make your love known; and you will die if he woo you, rather than abate one breath of your crossness. _much ado about nothing._ . it cannot bend thy lofty brow, though friends and foes depart, the car of fate may o'er thee roll, nor crush thy roman heart. mrs. child. . you wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and do all yourself. _merry wives of windsor._ . to tend from good to better--thence to best, grateful you drink life's cup, then bend unmurmuring to your bed of rest; you pluck the flowers that around you blow, scattering their fragrance as you go. bowring. . rich in love and sweet humanity, you will be yourself, to the degree that you desire, beloved. wordsworth. . you little care what others do, and where they go, and what they say; your bliss all inward, and your own, would only tarnish'd be by being shown. the talking, restless world shall see, spite of the world, you'll happy be; but none shall know, how much you are so, save only _love_. mrs. barbauld. . scared at thy frown, abash'd will fly self-pleasing folly's idle brood, wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy, and leave thee leisure to be good gray. . a happy lot be thine, and larger light await thee there;--for thou hast bow'd thy will in cheerful homage to the rule of right, and lovest all, and doest good for ill. bryant. . in you are youth, beauty, and humble port, bounty, richesse, and womanly feature; god better knows than my pen can report, wisdom, largesse, estate and cunning sure. in every point so guided is your measure, in word, in deed, in shape, in countenance, that nature could no more her child advance. _king james i._ . you do incline to sadness, and oft-times not knowing why. _cymbaline._ . you are a riddle, which he who solved the sphinx's would die guessing! john tobin. . you have train'd your spirit to forgive, as you hope to be forgiven; and you live on earth as they should live whose hopes and home are heaven. bowring. . a reasonable woman; fair without vanity, rich without pride, discreet though witty, learned yet very humble. john tobin. . there's little of the melancholy in you; you are never sad but when you sleep, and not even sad then; for i have heard that you often dream of mischief, and wake yourself with laughing. _much ado about nothing._ . like a summer storm awhile you're cloudy, burst out in thunder and impetuous showers, but straight the sun of beauty dawns abroad, and all the fair horizon is serene. nicholas rowe. . think not the good, the gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done shall die forgotten all; the poor, the prisoner, the fatherless, the friendless, and the widow, who daily own the bounty of thy hand, shall cry to heaven and pull a blessing on thee. george lillo. . a friend to the hen-coop you often are found; when the rat or the weasel are prowling around, or chick become motherless strays from the wing, a mother are you to the motherless thing. maria james. . a' the day you spier what news kind neibor bodies bring. motherwell. . innocence and virgin modesty, a virtue and a consciousness of worth that would be woo'd, and not unsought be won. milton--_paradise lost_. . it is your pleasure sweetly to complain, and to be taken with a sudden pain; then up you start, all ecstasy and bliss, and are, sweet soul, just as sincere in this. oh, how you roll your charming eyes in spite, and look delightfully with all your might. dr. young--_love of fame_. . gracious to all; but where your love is due so fast, so faithful, loyal, just, and true, that a bold hand as soon might hope to force the rolling light of heaven, as stay your course. waller. . thou medley of contraries! we trust thee, yet we doubt thee, our darkness and our light; night would be day without thee, and day, without thee, night. judge charlton. . you are a soul so white and so chaste, as nothing called foul dares approach with a blot, or any least spot; but still you control or make your own lot, preserving love pure as it first was begot. ben jonson. . the power you wield has its best spells in love, and gentleness, and thought; never in scorn, or any wayward impulse or caprice. w. g. simms. . you love to listen better than to talk, and, rather than be gadding, would sit quiet;-- hate cards, and cordials. tobin. . you do not love as _men_ love, who love often. yours has been a single sentiment for one alone, an all-engrossing passion, which doth live on hope and faith. elizabeth bogart. . thou talkest well, but talking is thy privilege; 'tis all the boasted courage of thy sex. nicholas rowe--_tamerlane_. . thoughts go sporting through your mind like children among flowers, and deeds of gentle goodness are the measure of your hours. in soul or face you bear no trace of one from eden driven, but, like the rainbow, seem, though born of earth, a part of heaven! george hill. . all things thou art by turns, from wrath to love, from the queen eagle, to the vestal dove. barry cornwall. . you've turn'd up your nose at the short, and cast down your eyes at the tall; but then you just did it in sport, and now you've no lover at all. g. p. morris. . alive to feel and curious to explore each distant object of refined distress. whitehead--_roman father_. . you have a soul of god-like mould, intrepid and commanding: but you have passions which outstrip the wind, and tear your virtues up. congreve--_mourning bride_. . there's not a lovely transient thing but brings thee to our mind! the rainbow, or the fragile flower, sweet summer's fading joys, the waning moon, the dying day, the passing glories of the clouds, the leaf that brightens as it falls, the wild tones of the Æolian harp, all tell some touching tale of thee; there's not a tender lovely thing but brings thee to our mind. mrs. follen. . 'tis not your part, out of your fond misgivings, to perplex the fortunes of the man to whom you cleave; 'tis yours to weave all that you have of fair and bright, in the dark meshes of their web. talfourd--_ion_. . in our hours of ease, uncertain, coy, and hard to please; when pain and sickness rend the brow, a ministering angel thou. scott. . ever art thou fair, ev'n in the city's gaudy tumult, fair; yet he who marks thee only as the charm and worship of gay crowds, in festive halls, knows but thy living image, not thy soul, joyless in that cold pomp. dr. brown--_bower of spring_. . thine is the heart that is gentle and kind, and light as the feather that sports in the wind. hogg--_queen's wake_. . your person is a paradise, and your soul the cherub to guard it. dryden. . your two red lips _affected_ zephyrs blow, to cool the hyson, and inflame the beau; while one white finger and a thumb conspire to lift the cup, and make the world admire. young. . more than a sermon love you the touch'd string, you love to tinkling tunes your feet to fling. allan cunningham. . coquet and coy at once your air, both studied, though both seem neglected; careless you are with artful care, affecting to seem unaffected. congreve. . your sweet humor is easy as a calm, and peaceful too. all your affections like the dew on roses,-- fair as the flowers themselves, as sweet and gentle. beaumont and fletcher--_the pilgrim_. . grateful we find you, patient of control; a most bewitching gentleness of soul makes pleasure of what work you have to do. bloomfield--_the miller's maid_. what is the personal appearance of your lady-love? must you have my picture? you will enjoin me to a strange punishment. with what a compell'd face a woman sits while she is drawing! i have noted divers either to fain smiles, or suck in the lips, to have a little mouth; ruffle the cheeks, to have the dimple seen; and so disorder the face with affectation, at next sitting it has not been the same. --but indeed if ever i would have mine drawn to the life, i would have a painter steal it at such a time i were devoutly kneeling at my prayers; there is then a heavenly beauty in't, the _soul_ moves in the superficies. john webster-- _the devil's law case. a tragi-comedy._ from lamb's specimens of dramatic poets. what is the personal appearance of your lady-love? . her eyes are shadowy, full of thought and prayer, and with long lashes o'er a white rose cheek drooping. mrs. hemans. . a thing all lightness, life, and glee, one of the shapes we seem to meet in visions of the night, and should they greet our waking sight, imagine that we dream. george hill. . a lovelier nymph the pencil never drew; for the fond graces form'd her easy mien, and heaven's soft azure in her eye is seen. she seems a rose-bud when it first receives the genial sun in its expanding leaves. hayley--_triumphs of temper_. . eyes as tender as the blue of weeping skies, yet sunny in their radiance as that blue, when sunset glitters on its falling dew. john neal. . she bends beneath the weight of dress, the stiffen'd robes, which spoil her easy mien, and art mistaken makes her beauty less, while still it hides some beauties better seen. hammond--_love elegies_. . there is a sweetness in her upturn'd eyes, a tearful lustre, such as fancy lends to the madonna, and a soft surprise, as if they found strange beauty in the air. park benjamin. . her soft, clear eyes, deep in their tenderness, reflect all beautiful and kindly things. she would seem infantile, but that her brow in lilied majesty uptowers, and tells that lofty thoughts and chasten'd pride are there. mrs. gilman. . oh, the words laugh on her lips; the motion of her smiles showers beauty, as the air-caressed spray the dews of morning; and her stately steps are light, as though a winged angel trod over earth's flowers, and fear'd to brush away their delicate hues. milman--_fazio_. . she has ane e'e, she has but ane, the cat has twa the very color; five rusty teeth forbye a stump, a clapper tongue would deave a miller. burns. . she lacks the beauty of a "damask skin," but there are roses lying near at hand, to spring unto her cheek; oft from within they come, called up at feeling's high command, and on the glowing surface long remain. mrs. m. s. b. dana. . if on her we see display'd pendent gems, and rich brocade, if her chintz with less expense flows in easy negligence, if she strikes the vocal strings, if she's silent, speaks, or sings, if she sit, or if she move, still we love and we approve. dr. johnson. . her laugh is like a fairy's laugh, so musical and sweet; her foot is like a fairy's foot, so dainty and so fleet. her smile is fitful sunshine, her hand is dimpled snow, her lip a very rose-bud in sweetness and in glow. mrs. osgood. . a thoughtful and a quiet grace, though happy still;--yet chance distress hath left a pensive loveliness; fancy hath tamed her fairy gleams, and her heart broods o'er home-born dreams. wilson. . her swollen eyes are much disfigured, and her faire face with tears is foully blubbered. spenser. . a downcast eye, repentant of the pain that its mild light creates. keats. . not fairer grows the lily of the vale, whose bosom opens to the vernal gale; while health that rises with the new-born day, breathes o'er her cheek the softest blush of may. falconer--_shipwreck_. . fairest where all is beautiful and bright! with what a grace she glides among the flowers that smile around her, bowing at her touch. gallagher. . on her cheek an autumn flush deeply ripens;--such a blush in the midst of brown was born, like red poppies grown with corn. around her eyes her tresses lay, which are blackest, none can say; but long lashes veil a light, that had else been all too bright. hood. . ne in her speach, ne in her haviour is lightnesse seene, or looser vanitie; but gratious womanhood and gravitie, above the reason of her youthly yeares. her golden locks she roundly doth uptye, in braided trammels, that ne looser heares do out of order stray about her daintie eares. spenser. . a silver line, that from the brow to the crown, and in the middle, parts the braided hair, just serves to show how delicate a soil the golden harvest grows in; while those eyes, soft and capacious as a cloudless sky, whose azure depth their colour emulates, must needs be conversant with upward looks, prayer's voiceless service. wordsworth. . half the charms that deck her face, arise from powder, shreds, and lace. goldsmith. . time from her form has ta'en away but little of its grace, his touch of thought hath dignified the beauty of her face. bayley. . 'tis strange, that though you study long, you cannot tell the color of her eye, that seems to change, beneath the ivory lid, from brilliant black to liquid hazel, then to full soft gray, fast melting into violet. miss m. e. lee. . her face is heaven's bow in showers. her dark hair flows round it like streaming clouds. ossian. . she has an innocently downcast look, and when she raises up her eyes of blue, it seems as if her features were a book, where sweet affection letters love for you. rufus dawes. . indeed she has a marvellous white hand, i must needs confess. _troilus and cressida._ . i never saw a crowned queen, with such a noble air, so angel-like, so womanly, as is your lady fair. mary howitt. . around her playful lips do glitter heat lightnings of a girlish scorn, harmless they are, for nothing bitter in that dear heart was ever born. that merry heart, that cannot lie within its warm nest quietly, but ever from the full dark eye is looking kindly, night and morn. j. r. lowell. . oh, her glance is the brightest that ever has shone, and the lustre of love's on her cheek; but all the bewildering enchantment is gone the moment you hear her speak. mrs. ellet. . the rose, with faint and feeble streak, so slightly marks the maiden's cheek, that you would say her hue is pale; but if she face the southern gale, or speaks, or sings, or quicker moves, or hears the praise of those she loves, or when of interest is express'd aught that wakes feeling in her breast, the mantling blood in ready play rivals the blush of opening day. scott--_rokeby_. . she dresses aye sae clean and neat, both decent and genteel; and then there's something in her gait gars ony dress look weel. burns. . she walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that's best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes. byron. . eyes of the gray, the soft gray of the brooding dove, full of the sweet and tender ray of holy love. mrs. norton. . i saw her hand--she has a leathern hand, a freestone color'd hand. i verily did think that her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hand; she has a housewife's hand! _as you like it._ . the fashion of her gracefulness is not a follow'd rule, and her effervescent sprightliness was never taught at school; her words are all peculiar, like the fairy's that spoke pearls, and her tone is ever sweetest 'mid the cadences of girls. willis. . there's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip; nay, her foot speaks. _troilus and cressida._ . she has that changing color on the cheek, which speaks the heart so well; those deep blue eyes, like summer's darkest sky, yet not so glad; they are too passionate for happiness. miss landon. . there is a light around her brow, a holiness in those dark eyes, which show, though wandering earthward now, her spirit's home is in the skies. moore. . a still, sweet, placid, moonlight face, and slightly nonchalant, which seems to hold a middle place between one's love and aunt. where childhood's star has left a ray in woman's summer sky, as morning's dew and blushing day on fruit and blossom lie. o. w. holmes. . a bright, frank brow, that has not learn'd to blush at gaze of man. macaulay--_lays of ancient rome_. . if to her share some female errors fall, look in her face, and you'll forget them all. hayley--_triumphs of temper_. . quips, and cranks, and playful wiles, nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, such as hang on hebe's cheek, and love to live in dimple sleek. milton--_comus_. . excellently done, if god did all. _twelfth night._ . a ruby lip first dawns; then glows the young cheek's deeper hue, yet delicate as roses when they dip their odorous blossoms in the morning dew. then beam the eyes, twin stars of living blue, half shaded by the curls of glossy hair, that turn to gold in the west's golden glare. croly--_angel of the world_. . love glower'd[a] when he saw her bonnie dark e'e, 'an swore by heaven's grace, he ne'er had seen, nor thought to see, since e'er he left the paphian lea, mair lovely a dwallin' place. william thom. [a] stared with surprise. . an angel-face! its sunny "wealth of hair," in radiant ripples, bathes the graceful throat, and dimpled shoulders; round the rosy curve of the sweet mouth, a smile seems wandering ever, while in the depths of azure fire that gleams beneath the drooping lashes, sleeps a world of eloquent meaning--passionate, but pure; dreamy, subdued, but o, how beautiful! mrs. osgood. . do but look in her eyes, they do light all that love's world compriseth: do but look on her hair, it is bright as love's star when it riseth! do but mark, her forehead's smoother than words that sooth her, and from her arched brows such a grace sheds itself through the face, as alone there triumphs to the life, all the gain, all the good, of the elements at strife. ben jonson. . when first you look upon her face, you little note, beside the timidness, that still betrays the beauties it would hide; but, one by one, they look out from her blushes and her eyes, and still the last the loveliest, like stars from twilight skies. george hill. . endearing! endearing! why so endearing are those dark lustrous eyes, through their silk fringe peering? they love thee! they love thee! deeply, sincerely; and more than aught else on earth, thou lov'st them dearly. motherwell. . in face an angel, but in soul a cat! dr. wolcott--_peter pindar_. . her feet beat witchcraft as she heads the dance, lads, like a garland, hem her round about, while love rains on them from her dark eye-glance. the maidens near her, tittering, take their stance, and on her swan-white neck, and snowy arms, her small and nimble feet, they look askance; the hoary fiddler, as he listens, warms, and draws a lustier bow, and gazes on her charms. allan cunningham. . a cheek, fair and delicate as rose-leaf newly blown-- a brow like marble--lofty, and profuse with the rich brown of her o'ergathering hair. w. g. simms. . such her beauty, as no arts have enrich'd with borrow'd grace; her high birth no pride imparts, for she blushes in her place. folly boasts a glorious blood, she is noblest, being good. habington. . o'er her features steal, serenely mild, the trembling sanctity of woman's truth, her modesty, and simpleness, and grace; yet those who deeper scan the human face, amid the trial-hour of fear or ruth, may clearly read, upon its heaven-writ scroll, that high and firm resolve, which nerved the roman soul. mrs. sigourney. . on her forehead sitteth pride, crown'd with scorn, and falcon-eyed; but she beneath, methinks, doth twine silken smiles, that seem divine. can such smiles be false and cold? can she, will she wed for gold? barry cornwall. . oh! her beauty is fair to see, but still and steadfast is her e'e, and the soft desire of maiden's e'en, in that mild face can never be seen. her seymat is the lily flower, and her cheek the moss-rose in a shower, and her voice, like the distant melody that floats along the twilight sea. but she lo'es to raike the lonely glen, and keep afar frae the haunts o' men. hogg--_queen's wake_. . 'tis not her eye or lip we beauty call, but the joint force and full result of all. pope. . her face is very beautiful, and mirth is native on her lip; but ever, now, as a sweet tone delighteth her, the smile goes melting into sadness, and the lash droops gently to her eye, as if it knew affection was too chaste a thing for mirth. willis. . have you seen but a bright lily grow, before rude hands have touch'd it? have you mark'd but the fall o' the snow, before the soil hath smutch'd it? have you felt the wool of the beaver? or swan's-down ever? or have smelt o' the bud of the brier? or the nard in the fire? or have tasted the bag of the bee? o so white! o so soft! o so sweet is she! ben jonson. . her nose is crook'd, and turn'd outwarde, her chin stands all awry; a worse formed lady than she is, was never seen with eye. her haires like serpents cling aboute her cheekes of deadlye hewe; a worse form'd ladye than she is no man mote ever view. percy's reliques--_the marriage of sir gawaine_. what is the personal appearance of him who loves you? 'twas pretty, though a plague, to see him every hour, to sit and draw his arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, in our heart's table; heart, too capable of every line and trick of his sweet favor. _all's well that ends well._ i will drop in his way some obscure epistle of love; wherein, by the color of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. _twelfth night._ what is the personal appearance of him who loves you? . on his bold visage middle age has slightly press'd its signet sage, yet has not quench'd the open truth and fiery vehemence of youth. scott--_lady of the lake_. . he is young and eminently beautiful, and life mantles in eloquent fulness on his lip, and sparkles in his glance, and in his mien there is a gracious pride that every eye follows with benisons. willis. . he hath but a little wee face, with a little yellow beard. _merry wives of windsor._ . the high-born eye, that checks low mirth, but lacks not courtesy. byron--_corsair_. . locks jet black, and clustering round a face open as day, and full of manly daring. rogers--_italy_. . his face is keen as is the wind that cuts along the hawthorn fence, a motley air of courage and of impudence. wordsworth. . oh what a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger of his lip! _twelfth night._ . a goodly person, and can manage faire his stubborn steed, who under him doth trample in the air, and chafe, that any on his back should sit. spenser. . his waggish face, that speaks a soul jocose, seems t'have been cast i' the mould of fun and glee; and on the bridge of his well-arched nose, sits laughter plumed, and white-wing'd jollity. tennent--_anster fair_. . the glow of temperance o'er his cheek is spread, where the soft down half veils the chasten'd red. crabbe. . readable as open book; and much of easy dignity there lies in the frank lifting of his cordial eyes. leigh hunt--_rimini_. . underneath that face, like summer ocean's, its lip as moveless, and its cheek as clear, slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotions, love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrow--all save fear. halleck. . singing he is, or fluting all the day; he is as fresh as is the month of may. he can songs make, and well indite, jouste, and eke dance, and well portray and write; courteous he is, lowly and serviceable, and carveth for his father at the table. chaucer. . does he not hold up his head, as it were, and strut in his gait? _merry wives of windsor._ . sober he seems, and very sagely sad, and to the ground his eyes are lowly bent. simple in show. spenser--_fairy queen_. . he is the deuce among the girls, a thing of foppery and ton, of whiskers and of curls. albert pike. . a dainty gentleman, his sleepy eyes half closed, and countenance to no expression stronger than may suit a simper, capable of being turn'd. southey. . contempt contracts his face, a smile is on his dark-brown cheek, his red eye rolls half concealed beneath his shaggy brows. ossian. . downcast, or shooting glances far, how beautiful his eyes, that blend the nature of the star with that of summer skies! wordsworth. . eyebrows bent like cupid's bow, front an ample field of snow, even nose, and cheek withal smooth as is the billiard-ball; chin as woolly as the peach, and his lip doth kissing teach, till he cherish too much beard and make love and you afear'd. ben jonson. . a fair and meaning face, an eye of fire, that checks the bold and makes the free retire. crabbe. . he has all the graces that render a man's society dear to ladies. massinger. . a beard that would make a razor shake, unless its nerves were strong! albert pike. . he hath but a little beard, but time will send more if the man will be thankful. _as you like it._ . a fresh young squire, a lover, and a lusty bachelor; with locks curl'd as they were laid in press: of twenty years of age he is, i guess. chaucer. . his form is middle size, shaped in proportion fair; and hazel is his eagle eye, and auburn of the deepest dye his short curl'd beard and hair. scott. . the tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. _coriolanus._ . a kind true heart, a spirit high, that cannot fear, and will not bow, are written in his manly eye, and on his manly brow. halleck. . he has more goodness in his little finger, than you have in your whole body; indeed he is a personable man, and not a spindle-shanked hoddy-doddy. swift. . a sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, framed in the prodigality of nature, young, valiant, wise, the spacious earth cannot afford again. _richard iii._ . a handsome gallant, and a beau of spirit, who can go down the dance so well as he? tennent--_anster fair_. . a phantom, fashionably thin, with limb of lath, and bearded chin. scott--_bridal of triermain_. . there is a fair behavior in him, and though that nature with a beauteous wall doth oft close in pollution, yet of him i well believe, he has a mind that suits with this his fair and outward character. _two gentlemen of verona._ . like a crane, his neck is long and fine, with which he swalloweth up excessive feast. spenser. . oh thy love has an eye like a star in the sky, and breath like the sweets from the hawthorn tree; and his heart is a treasure, whose worth is past measure, and yet he hath given all--all to thee. barry cornwall. . his form, his face, his noble mien, the sweetness of his touching tone, his feeling heart so simply shown, such gifts of mind, such gentle grace, proclaim him of no common race. sotheby. . a brow of beautiful yet earnest thought, a form of manly grace. mrs. sigourney. . he's handsome, valiant, young, and looks as he were laid for nature's best, to catch weak women's eyes. dryden--_all for love_. . in that fair stand, his forehead, love still bends his double bow, and round his arrows sends; in that tall grove, his hair, those globy rings he flying curls, and crispeth with his wings. ben jonson. . he's fat, and scant o' breath. _hamlet._ . lordly look'd and lordly limb'd is he,-- a frame of iron, a right arm long and stark, a rough, loud voice, a visage somedale dark, a heart which soars as dangers soar, and ne'er sinks save in peace. allan cunningham. . tall is his frame, his forehead high, still and mysterious is his eye; his look is like a wintry day when storms and winds have sunk away. hogg--_queen's wake_. . he chats like popinjay, and struts with phiz tremendously erect. tennent--_anster fair_. . his large fair front, and eye sublime, declare absolute rule, and hyacinthine locks, round from his parted forelock, manly hang clustering. milton--_paradise lost_. . a sweet-faced man; a proper man as one shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man. _midsummer night's dream._ . dark deep eyes, and lips whose motions gift the air they breathe with love. shelley. . full long are both his spindle-shanks, and lean just like a walking-stick--no calf is seen. chaucer. . faster than his tongue doth make offence, his eye doth heal it up. _as you like it._ . his eyes are like the eagle's, yet sometimes liker the dove's; and at his will he wins all hearts with softness, or with spirit awes. home--_douglass_. . there's a cold bearing, and grave, severe aspect about the man, that makes our spirits pay him such respect, as though he dwelt 'neath age's silvery pent-house, despite his unripe years. fanny kemble. . young and fair, yet a man;--with crisped hair, cast in thousand snares and rings for love's fingers, and his wings: chesnut color, or more slack gold, upon a ground of black. ben jonson. . a brow half martial, and half diplomatic, an eye upsoaring like an eagle's wings. halleck. . he capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth; he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells april and may. _merry wives of windsor._ . 'tis not his talent to conceal his thoughts, and carry smiles and sunshine in his face, when discontent sits heavy at his heart. addison--_cato_. . a fop complete, he stalks the jest and glory of the street. crabbe. . oh what a grace is seated on his brow! a combination and a form indeed, where every god doth seem to set his seal to give the world assurance of a man. _hamlet._ . such beauty as great strength thinks no disgrace, smiles in the manly features of his face; his large black eyes, fill'd with a spriteful light, shoot forth such lively and illustrious night, as the sunbeams on jet reflecting show; his hair is black, in short curl'd waves doth flow; his tall, straight body amid thousands stands, like some fair pine o'erlooking all the lands. cowley--_davideis_. . he witches the world with noble horsemanship, and vaults into his saddle with such ease, as if an angel dropt down from the clouds to turn and wind a fiery pegasus. _henry iv._ . a stalwart, active, soldier-looking stripling, handsome as hercules ere his first labor, and with a brow of thought beyond his years when in repose, till his eye kindles up, in answering yours. byron--_werner_. . his face is dark, but very quiet; it seems like looking down the dusky mouth of a great cannon. john sterling--_strafford_. what is the character of your lady-love? look at her, whoe'er thou be that kindlest with a poet's soul intensely----from imagination take the treasure; what mine eyes behold see thou, even though the atlantic ocean roll between. wordsworth. the idea of her life shall sweetly creep into his study of imagination; and every lovely organ of her life, shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, more moving, delicate, and full of life, into the eye and prospect of his soul. _much ado about nothing._ what is the character of your lady-love? . her body's matchless form is better'd by the pureness of her mind. massinger. . she's made of those rare elements that now and then appear, as if removed by accident into a lesser sphere, forever reaching up and on to life's sublimer things, as if they had been used to track the universe with wings. willis. . this reasoning maid, above her sex's dread, has dared to read, and dares to say she read. crabbe. . her smile so soft, her heart so kind, her voice for pity's tones so fit, all speak her woman;--but her mind lifts her where bards and sages sit. dr. brown. . a perfect woman, nobly plann'd, to warn, to comfort, and command, and yet a spirit still, and bright with something of an angel light. wordsworth. . one whose life is like a star, without toil or rest to mar its divinest harmony, its god-given serenity. james aldrich. . she is wise, if i can judge of her, and fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, and true she is, as she hath proved herself. _merchant of venice._ . right from the hand of god her spirit came unstain'd, and she hath ne'er forgotten whence it came, nor wander'd far from thence, but laboreth to keep her still the same, near to her place of birth, that she may not soil her white raiment with an earthly spot. j. r. lowell. . with her mien she enamors the brave, with her wit she engages the free, with her modesty pleases the grave; she is every way pleasing to thee. shenstone. . i would my horse had the speed of her tongue. _much ado about nothing._ . as through the hedge-row shade the violet steals, and the sweet air its modest leaf reveals, her softer charms, but by their influence known, surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own. rogers. . full many a lady you have eyed with best regard, and many a time, the harmony of their tongues hath into bondage brought your too diligent ear; for several virtues you have liked several women; never any with so full soul, but some defect in her did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, and put it to the foil: but she, o she, so perfect and so peerless, is created of every creature's best! _tempest._ . she is all simplicity, a creature soft and mild; though on the eve of womanhood, in heart a very child. mrs. welby. . who does not understand and love her, with feeling thus o'erfraught? though silent as the sky above her, like that, she kindles thought. dr. gilman. . sacred and sweet is all i see in her. _taming of the shrew._ . she is happy in all endowments, which a poet could fancy in his mistress; being herself a school of goodness, where chaste maids may learn, by the example of her life and pureness, to be, as she is, excellent. massinger. . she steps like some glad creature of the air, as if she read her fate and knew it fair; in truth, for fate at all she hath no care. yet hath she tears as well as gladness; a butterfly in pain will make her weep for very sadness, but straight she'll smile again. a. m. wells. . a maiden never bold of spirit, so still and quiet, that her motion blush'd at itself. _othello._ . she saith not once _nay_ when thou sayest _yea_; "do this," saith he. "all ready, sir," saith she. chaucer. . every thought and feeling throw their shadows o'er her face, and so are every thought and feeling join'd, 'twere hard to answer whether heart or mind of either were the native place. washington allston. . she speaks, yet she says nothing! _romeo and juliet._ . she will weep for nothing, like diana in the fountain, when thou art disposed to be merry; and will laugh like a hyena, when thou art disposed to sleep. _as you like it._ . though on pleasure she is bent, she has a frugal mind. goldsmith. . happy in this, she is not yet so old but she may learn; happier than this, she is not bred so dull but she can learn: happiest of all is, that her gentle spirit commits itself to yours to be directed. _merchant of venice._ . mind is her best gift, and poetry her world; and she will see strange beauty in a flower, as by a subtle vision. willis. . a being of sudden smiles and tears, passionate visions, quick light and shade. hemans. . little she speaks, but dear attentions from her will ceaseless rise; she checks our wants with kind preventions, and lulls the children's cries. dr. gilman. . oh when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! she was a vixen when she went to school, and though she be but little, she is fierce. _midsummer night's dream._ . graceful and useful all she does, blessing and blest where'er she goes. cowper. . she has an earnest intellect, a perfect thirst of mind, a heart by elevated thoughts and poetry refined. willis. . a timid grace sits trembling in her eye, speaking most plain the thoughts which do possess her gentle sprite,--peace, and meek quietness, and innocent love, and maiden purity. charles lamb. . she hath more hair than wit, more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults. _two gentlemen of verona._ . her soul is more than half divine, where, through some shades of earthly feeling, religion's soften'd glories shine, like light through summer foliage stealing. moore. . she will turn from a love-breathing seraph away, if he come not apparell'd in purple and gold. mrs. osgood. . she sways her house, commands her followers, takes and gives back affairs and their despatch, with a most smooth, discreet, and stable bearing. _twelfth night._ . spring hath no blossom fairer than her form, winter no snow-wreath purer than her mind. the dew-drop trembling to the summer sun is like her smile; bright, transient, heaven-refined. mrs. pierson. . she is a lady of confirmed honor, of an unmatchable spirit, and determinate in all virtuous resolutions; not hasty to anticipate an affront, nor slow to feel where just provocation is given. charles lamb. . her outward charms are less than her winning gentleness; with maiden purity of heart, which, without the aid of art, does in coldest hearts inspire love. james aldrich. . she dwells among us like a star, that from its bower of bliss looks down, yet gathers not a stain from aught it sees in this. mrs. welby. . she in pleasant purpose doth abound, and greatly joyeth merry tales to feign. spenser. . early and late, at her soul's gate, sits chastity in warder wise; no thought unchallenged, small or great, goes thence into her eyes; nor may a low, unworthy thought beyond that virgin warder win, nor one, whose password is not "ought," may go without, or enter in. j. r. lowell. . a light, busy foot astir in her small housewifery, the blithest bee that ever wrought in hive. mitford. . practised to lisp and hang the head aside, faint into airs, and languish into pride. pope. . she is ever fair, and never proud, hath tongue at will, and yet is never loud. _othello._ . i call her richly blest, in the calm meekness of her woman's breast, where that sweet depth of still contentment lies; and for her household love, which clings unto all ancient and familiar things, weaving from each some link for home's dear charities. hemans. . she's peevish, sullen, froward, proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty. _two gentlemen of verona._ . no simplest duty is forgot; life hath no dim and lowly spot that doth not in her sunshine share. j. r. lowell. . disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, misprizing what they look on;--and her wit values itself so highly, that to her all matter else seems weak. _much ado about nothing._ . with despatchful looks she turns, on hospitable thoughts intent, what choice to choose for delicacy best, what order so contrived as not to mix tastes not well join'd, inelegant, but bring taste after taste upheld with kindliest change. milton. . none so gay as she; up hill and down, morning, and noon, and night, singing or talking; singing to herself when none give ear. rogers--_italy._ . the green and growing leaves of seventeen are round her;--and half hid, half seen, a violet flower; nursed by the virtues she hath been from childhood's hour. halleck. . blest with temper whose unclouded ray can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day: spleen, vapors, or small-pox, above them all, and mistress of herself though china fall. pope--_characters of women._ . seldom she speaks, but she will listen with all the signs of soul; her cheek will change, her eye will glisten, as waves of feeling roll. dr. gilman. . she bears a purse; she is a region in guiana, all gold and bounty. _merry wives of windsor._ . you are as rich in having such a jewel, as twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl, the water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. _two gentlemen of verona._ . oh, she is a golden girl, but a man--a _man_ should woo her! they who seek her shrink aback, when they should like storms pursue her. barry cornwall. . she is soft as the dew-drops that fall from the lip of the sweet-scented pea; perhaps when she smiled upon all, thou hast thought that she smiled upon thee. mackenzie--_man of feeling._ . she is the cause of six matches being broken off, and three sons disinherited. sheridan. . all her strain is of domestic gladness, fire-side bliss, and household rule; nor thought loose, light, or vain, stains her pure vision of meek happiness. allan cunningham. . she loves, but 'tis not you she loves, not you on whom she ponders, when in some dream of tenderness her truant fancy wanders. the forms that flit her vision through, are like the shapes of old, where tales of prince and paladin on tapestry are told. man may not hope her heart to win, be his of common mould. c. f. hoffman. what is the character of him who loves you? something that may serve to set in view the doings, observations which his mind had dealt with--i will here record in verse. wordsworth. what is the character of him who loves you? . of manners gentle, of affections mild, in wit a man, simplicity a child. pope. . he has a shrewd wit, i can tell you; and he's a man good enough; he's one of the soundest judgments, and a proper man of person. _troilus and cressida._ . love, fame, and glory, with alternate sway thrill his warm heart, and with electric ray illume his eye; yet still a shade of care, like a light cloud that floats in summer air, will shed at times a transitory gloom, but shadow not one grace of manly bloom. mrs. k. ware. . he wounds no breast with jeer and jest, yet bears no honey'd tongue, he's social with the gray-hair'd one, and merry with the young. eliza cook. . a shallow brain behind a serious mask, an oracle within an empty cask; he says but little, and that little said owes all its weight, like loaded dice, to lead. cowper--_conversation._ . fearless he is, and scorning all disguise; what he dares do, or think, though men may start, he speaks with mild, yet unaverted eyes. shelley. . a lofty spirit his, and somewhat proud; little gallant, and has a sort of cloud hanging forever on his cold address. leigh hunt--_rimini._ . he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them as bravely _as you like it._ . in truth he is a strange and wayward wight, fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene; in darkness and in storm he finds delight, nor less than when on ocean's wave serene the southern sun displays his dazzling sheen. beattie--_minstrel._ . there is in him so much man, so much goodness, so much of honor, and of all things else which make our being excellent, that from his store he can enough lend others. massinger. . he draweth out the staple of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. _love's labour lost._ . his words are strong, but not with anger fraught, a lore benignant he hath lived and taught; to draw mankind to heaven by gentleness and good example is his business. chaucer. . the monarch-mind, the mystery of commanding, the god-like power, the art napoleon of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, banding the hearts of millions, till they move as one. halleck. . devout, yet cheerful; pious, not austere; to others lenient, to himself severe. dr. harvey. . with scrupulous care exact, he walks the rounds of fashionable duty; laughs when sad, when merry weeps, deceiving is deceived, and flattering, flatter'd. pollok. . a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. _hamlet._ . erect, morose, determined, solemn, slow; who knows the man can never cease to know. crabbe. . rare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun, to relish a joke, and rejoice in a pun! goldsmith. . he is a man among a thousand. unassuming, he may yet assume unquestion'd. gentleness, and a strange strength, a calm o'erruling strength, are mix'd within him so, that neither take possession from the other,--neither rise in mastery or passion, but both grow harmoniously together. w. g. simms. . for beauty and fortin' the laddie's been courtin', weel featured, weel tochered, weel mounted and braw! burns. . he will pick a quarrel for a straw, and fight it out to the extremity. charles lamb. . he cannot flatter and speak fair, smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and coy, duck with french nods, and apish courtesy. _richard iii._ . a primrose by the river's brim a yellow primrose is to him, and it is nothing more. wordsworth. . his young bosom feels the enchantment strong of light, and joy, and minstrelsy and song. pierpont--_airs of palestine._ . if he has any faults he leaves us in doubt, at least in six weeks we can't find them out. goldsmith. . the friend of man, the friend of truth, the friend of age, the guide of youth; few hearts like his with virtue warm'd, few heads with knowledge so inform'd. burns. . if his body were opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, i'll eat the rest of his anatomy. _two gentlemen of verona._ . he hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers, you never can please him, do a' that you can; he's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows. burns. . an ample soul, rockbound and fortified against assaults of transitory passion, but below built on a surging, subterraneous fire, that stirs and lifts him up to high attempts. taylor. . his very manners teach to amend, they are so even, grave and holy; no stubbornness so stiff, nor folly to license ever was so light, as twice to trespass in his sight; his look would so correct it when it chid the vice, yet not the men. ben jonson. . he thinks, that he who fights and runs away may live to fight another day. butler--_hudibras._ . he keeps his honesty and truth, his independent tongue and pen, and moves in manhood, as in youth, pride of his fellow-men. halleck. . his life doth flow from its mysterious urn a sacred stream, in whose calm depth the beautiful and pure alone are mirror'd; which, though shapes of ill may hover round its surface, glides in light, and takes no shadow from them. talfourd--_ion._ . he is too costly for every day, you would want another for working days. _much ado about nothing._ . strange, that his nobly fashion'd mould, in which a very god might dwell, should only live to dig for gold, and perish in its narrow cell! bowring. . he has no party rage, no sectary's whim; christian and countryman is all with him. crabbe. . valiant he as fire, showing danger more than ire. bounteous as the clouds to earth, and as honest as his birth; all his actions they are such as to do no thing too much; nor o'erpraise, nor yet condemn, nor outvalue, nor contemn, nor do wrongs nor wrongs receive, nor tie knots, nor knots unweave. from all baseness to be free, as he durst love truth and thee. ben jonson. . he snuffs far off the anticipated joy, turtle and venison all his thoughts employ. cowper. . in his strength the mighty oak has likeness; gentleness in him is like the rosy parasite, the flush spring gives it wrapping it around with sweetest color and adorning grace. his soul, refined beyond the rustic world, has yet no city vices. he has kept its whiteness unprofaned. w. g. simms. . he'll never learn his bark to steer 'mid passion's sudden, wild career, nor try at times to tack and veer to interest's gale, but hoist the sheet, unawed by fear though storms prevail. hector macneil. . a fair example of his own pure creed, patient of error, pitiful to need, persuasive wisdom in his thoughtful mien. mrs. sigourney. . one of that stubborn sort he is, who if they once grow fond of an opinion, they call it honor, honesty, and faith, and sooner part with life than let it go. rowe--_jane shore._ . virtue's his path, but sometimes 'tis too narrow for his vast soul, and then he starts wide out, and bounds into a vice that bears him far from his first course, and plunges him in ills. dryden--_all for love._ . a man whom storms can never make meanly complain, nor can a flattering gale make him talk proudly. dr. watts. . he'll prattle shrewdly with such witty folly, as almost betters reason. john howard payne. . heed not, though at times he seem dark and still, and cold as clay; he is shadow'd by his dream, but 'twill pass away. barry cornwall. . he quick is anger'd, and as quick his short-lived passion's over-past, like summer lightnings, flashing thick, but flying ere a bolt is cast. e. d. griffin. . oh, he's as tedious as a tired horse, a railing wife, worse than a smoky house. _henry iv._ . love, the germ of his mild nature, hath spread graces forth, expanding with its progress; as the store of rainbow color, which the seed conceals, sheds out its tints from its dim treasury to flush and circle in the flower. talfourd--_ion._ . he is----but what need i say that or this, i'd spend a month to tell ye what he is! ramsay--_gentle shepherd._ . with maids he's softer than the clouds in may; but had you seen him, lady, in his ire, when, like one born of thunder, he did march and strike down men as stubble sinks in fire-- but then he hath a tongue could wile the laverock from the cloud. allan cunningham. . within his soul springs up a deep sense of the beautiful, the holy, the exalted, and a love embracing in its circle all creation. lady flora hastings. . he so light is at legerdemain, that what he touches comes not to light again. spenser. . though learn'd, well-bred; and though well-bred, sincere; modestly bold, and humanely severe. pope. . to express his mind to sense, would ask a heaven's intelligence, since nothing can report that flame but what's of kin to whence it came. ben jonson. . a little, upright, pert, tart, tripping wight, that holds his precious self his dear delight, and loves his own smart shadow in the street. burns. . no caprice of mind, no passing influence of idle time, no popular show, no clamor from the crowd can move him, erring, from the path of right. w. g. simms. . wasting his life for his country's care, laying it down with a patriot's prayer. barry cornwall. . a man whose sober soul can tell how to wear her garments well, her garments that upon her sit as garments should do, close and fit; a well-clothed soul, that's not oppress'd nor choked with what she should be dress'd; a soul sheath'd in a crystal shrine, through which all her bright features shine. crashaw. . and still we gaze, and still the wonder grows, that one small head can carry all he knows. goldsmith--_deserted village_. what season of the year do you love? january gray is here, like a sexton by a grave; february bears the bier, march with grief doth howl and rave, and april weeps; but oh, ye hours, follow with may's fairest flowers. shelley. the seasons of the year, ----some arm'd in silver ice that glisten, and some in gaudy green, come in like masquers. beaumont and fletcher. what season of the year do you love? . the bold _march_ wind! the merry, boisterous, bold march wind! who in the violet's tender eyes casts a kiss,--and forward flies. barry cornwall. . the beautiful spirit of _spring_, when the demons of winter before her fly, while the gentle fan of her delicate wing repels the ardor of summer's eye. james nack. . thou lovest the merry _summer_ months of beauty, song, and flowers, thou lovest the gladsome months that bring thick leafiness to bowers! up, up, thy heart, and walk abroad, fling cark and care aside, seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful waters glide, or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal tree, scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt tranquillity. motherwell. . the _eventide of summer_, when the trees yield their fresh honors to the passing breeze, and woodland paths with autumn tints are dyed; when the mild sun his paling lustre shrouds in gorgeous draperies of golden clouds. mrs. e. c. embury. . when on the breath of _autumn_ breeze, from pastures dry and brown, goes floating, like an idle thought, the fair white thistle-down. mary howitt. . a day of _winter_ beauty. through the night the hoar-frost gather'd o'er each leaf and spray, weaving its filmy net-work, thin and bright, and shimmering like silver in the ray of the soft sunny morning;--turf and tree prank'd in delicate embroidery, and every wither'd stump and mossy stone with gems encrusted and with seed-pearls sown! mrs. whitman. . when _may_, with her cap crown'd with roses, stands in her holiday dress in the fields, and the wind and the brooklet murmur gladness and peace, god's peace! with lips rosy tinted, whisper the race of the flowers, and merry, on balancing branches, birds are singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to the highest. longfellow. . _autumn eventide_; when sinking on the blue hill's breast, the sun spreads the large bounty of his level blaze, lengthening the shade of mountains and tall trees. george lunt. . when on a keen _december_ night, jack frost drives through mid air his chariot icy-wheel'd, and from the sky's crisp ceiling, star-emboss'd, whiffs off the clouds that the pure blue concealed. tennent--_anster fair_. . when _spring_, advancing, calls her feather'd quire, and tunes to softer notes her laughing lyre; musk'd in the rose's lap fresh dews are shed, and breathe celestial lustres round her head. darwin. . _june_ with its roses,----june! the gladdest month of the capricious year, with its thick foliage, and its sunlight clear, and with a drowsy tune of the bright leaping waters, as they pass laughingly on, amid the springing grass! w. h. burleigh. . when _autumn_, like a faint old man, sits down by the wayside, a-weary. longfellow. . _winter_, shod with fleecy snow, who cometh _white_, and _cold_, and _mute_, lest he should wake the spring below. barry cornwall. . when the south wind in _may_ days, with a net of shining haze, silvers the horizon wall; and with softness touching all, tints the human countenance with a color of romance, and infusing gentle heats, turns the sod to violets. r. w. emerson. . when _spring's_ unfolded blooms exhale in sweetness, that the skilful bee may taste, at will, from their selected spoils, to work her dulcet sweet. akenside--_pleasures of the imagination_. . the joyous _winter_ days, when sits the soul intense, collected, cool, bright as the skies, and as the season keen. thomson. . the _spring_, as she passes along with her eye of light, and her lip of song. w. g. clark. . _october!_ heaven's delicious breath, when woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, and suns grow meek, and the meek sun grows brief, and the year smiles, as drawing near its death. w. c. bryant. . the _april_ rain! the _april_ rain! to list the pleasant sound, now soft and still like gentle dew, now drenching all the ground. pray tell me why an april shower is pleasanter to see, than falling drops of other rain? i'm sure it is to thee. mrs. seba smith. . _spring_, when from yon blue-topp'd mountain she leaves her green print 'neath each spreading tree, her tuneful voice beside the swelling fountain giving sweet notes to its wild melody. julia h. scott. . a season _atween june and may_, half prankt with spring, with summer half embrown'd. thomson--_castle of indolence_. . when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, to call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home; when the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, and twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill; the south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, and sighs to find them in the wood, and by the stream no more. w. c. bryant. . brave _winter_ and thou shalt ever agree, though a stern and frowning gaffer is he; you like to hear him, with hail and rain, come tapping against the window pane; you joy to see him come marching forth, begirt with the icicle gems of the north; but you like him best when he comes bedight in his velvet robes of stainless white. eliza cook. . when "adieu!" father winter has sadly said to the world, when about withdrawing, with his old white wig half off his head, and his icicle fingers _thawing_! miss h. f. gould. . gentle _may_, she with her robe of flowers; she with her sun and sky, her clouds and showers! who bringeth forth unto the eye of day, from their imprisoning and mysterious night, the buds of many hues, the children of her light. j. lawrence, jr. . the last days of _autumn_, when the corn lies sweet and mellow in the harvest-field, and the gay company of reapers bind the bearded wheat in sheaves. i. mclellan. . drear _winter!_ with no unholy awe we hear thy voice, as by our dying embers, safely housed, we in deep silence muse. h. k. white. . you love to go in the capricious days of _april_, and hunt violets, when the rain is in their blue cups, trembling as they nod so gracefully, to kisses of the wind. n. p. willis. . merry, ever merry may! made of sun-gleams, shades, and showers, bursting buds, and breathing flowers; dripping-lock'd, and rosy-vested, violet-slipper'd, rainbow-crested, girdled with the eglantine, festoon'd with the flowering vine! gallagher. . when the warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, the bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, and the year, on the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, is lying. shelley. . when the angel of dread _winter_ cometh, but not in anger. as he speeds along, borne on the chilling wind, he bids appear a thousand varied hues the trees among! what magic beauty doth his presence fling round every leaf that quivers in the dell, or shrub that to the mountain side doth cling! and the bright scene the calm lake mirrors well, as if within its depths were wove some golden spell. h. f. harrington. . delicious spring! nursed in the lap of thin and subtle showers, which fall from clouds that lift their snowy wing from odorous buds of light-enfolded flowers, and from enmassed bowers, that over grassy walks their greenness fling. albert pike. . the summer, the radiant summer's the fairest, for green woods and mountains, for meadows and bowers, for waters and fruits, and for flowers the rarest, and for bright shining butterflies, lovely as flowers. mary howitt. . when _september's_ golden day, serenely still, intensely bright, fades on the umber'd hills away and melts into the coming night. mrs. whitman. . when autumn chills the foliage, and sheds o'er the piled leaves, among the evergreens, all colors and all tints to grace the scene. rufus dawes. . ho! jewel-keeper of the hoary north! whence hast thou all thy treasures? why, the mines of rich golconda, since the world was young, would fail to furnish such a glorious show! yes, the _wintry_ king, so long decried, hath revenue more rich than sparkling diamonds! mrs. sigourney. . when _spring_ from sunny slopes comes wandering, calling violets from the sleep, that bound them under the snow-drift deep, to open their childlike, asking eyes on the new summer paradise. j. r. lowell. . autumn! how lovely is thy pensive air! but chief the sounds from thy reft woods delight; their deep, low murmurs to the soul impart a solemn stillness. mrs. tighe--_psyche._ . when _winter_ nights grow long, and winds without blow cold, and we sit in a ring round the warm hearth-fire, and listen to stories old. barry cornwall. . _spring_; when blushing like a bride from hope's trim bower, she leaps, awakened by the pattering shower. coleridge. . _autumn_ dark on the mountains; when gray mists rest on the hills. the whirlwind is heard on the heath. dark rolls the river through the narrow plain. the leaves whirl with the wind, and strew the graves of the dead. ossian. . when the rosy-bosom'd hours, fair venus' train, appear; disclose the long-expected flowers, and wake the purple year. the attic warbler pours her throat, responsive to the cuckoo's note, the untaught harmony of _spring_; while, whispering pleasure as they fly, cool zephyrs, through the clear blue sky, their gather'd fragrance fling. gray. . when golden _autumn_ from her open lap the fragrant bounty showers. somerville--_the chace_. . dark _winter_ is a happy time: god gives the earth repose, and earth bids man wipe his hot brow; the poet pours his rhyme, and mirth awakes. allan cunningham. . when _spring-tide_ approaches; leaf by leaf is developed, and warm'd by the radiant sunshine, blushes with purple and gold, till at last the perfected blossom opens its odorous chalice, and rocks with its crown to the breeze. longfellow. . the first day of _may_, when the sun is rejoicing alone in heaven, the clouds have all hurried away. down in the meadow the blossoms are waking, light on their twigs the young leaves are shaking, round the warm knolls the lambs are a-leaping, the colt from his fold o'er the pasture is sweeping, and on the bright lake, the little waves break, for there the cool west is at play. j. g. percival. . the desolate and dying year, yet lovely in its lifelessness, as beauty stretch'd upon the bier, in death's clay-cold and dark caress; there's loveliness in its decay, which breathes, which lingers on it still. j. g. brooks. . pale, rugged _winter_, bending o'er his tread, his grizzled hair bedropt with icy dew; his eyes a dusky light, congeal'd and dead, his robe a tinge of bright ethereal blue. chatterton. . the uncertain glory of an _april_ day, which now shows all the beauty of the skies, and by and by a cloud takes all away. _two gentlemen of verona._ . when the sun more darkly tinges spring's fair brow, and laughing fields have just begun the _summer's_ golden hues to show; earth still with flowers is richly dight, and the _last_ rose in gardens bides to glow. george bancroft. . the pryde, the _manhode_ of the yeare, when eke the ground is dight in its most deft[b] aumere.[c] rowley--(_chatterton_.) [b] ornamental. [c] mantle. . an _autumn_ night with a piercing sight, and a step both strong and free; and a voice for wonder, like the wrath of the thunder, when he shouts to the stormy sea! barry cornwall. . when _spring's_ first gale comes forth to whisper where the violets lie. mrs. hemans. . when the breath of _winter_ comes from far away, and the rich west continually bereaves of some gold tinge, and plays a roundelay of death among the bushes and the leaves. keats. . when _spring_ pours out his showers, as is his wont, and bathes the breathing tresses of meek eve. collins. . _autumn_ skies, when all the woods are hung with many tints, the fading livery of life, in which it mourns the coming storms of winter; when the quiet winds awake faint dirges in the wither'd leaves, and breathe their sorrow through the grove. percival. . sweet _spring_, full of sweet days and roses, a box where sweets compacted lie. old herbert. . when a soft haze is hanging o'er the hill, tinged with a purple light. how beautiful, and yet how cold! 'tis the first robe put on by sad _october_. w. g. simms. . _spring_ doeth all she can, i trow; she brings the bright hours, she weaves the sweet flowers, she dresseth her bowers for all below. barry cornwall. . _spring time_, which crumbles winter's gyves with tender might, when in the genial breeze, (the breath of god,) come spouting up the unseal'd springs to light, flowers start from their dark prisons at our feet, and woods, long dumb, awake to hymnings sweet. bryant. what hour do you love? mysterious round! what skill, what force divine, deep felt, in these appear! a simple train yet so delightful, mix'd with such kind art, such beauty and beneficence combined, shade unperceived so softening into shade, and all so forming an harmonious whole, that as they still succeed, they ravish still. thomson. the winged hours! commission'd in alternate watch they stand, the sun's bright portals, and the skies, command; close or unfold the eternal gates of day, bar heaven with clouds, or roll those clouds away. dryden's virgil. what hour do you love? . when, from ebon streak, the _moon_ puts forth a little diamond peak, no bigger than an unobserved star, or tiny point of fairy cimeter; bright signal, that she only stoops to tie her silver sandals, ere deliciously she bows into the heavens her timid head. keats. . when _morning_ cometh, with a still and gliding mystery, on the breaking gray of the fresh east. w. g. simms. . when the _stars_ are out-- cold, but still beautiful,--a crowded choir, harmonious in their heavenly minstrelsy. rufus dawes. . when blue-eyed day has yielded up her regency, and _night_, exceeding beautiful, resumes her right as solemn watchman. miss m. e. lee. . when sunk the sun, and up the eastern heaven, like maiden on a lonely pilgrimage, moves the meek star of eve. milman. . when _phoebus_, fresh as bridegroom to his mate, comes dauncing forth, shaking his dewie hayre, and hurls his glistering beams through gloomy ayre. spenser. . when on the sunlit limits of the night, her white shell trembling amid crimson air, glides the _young moon_. shelley. . when clouds lay cradled near the _setting sun_, and gleams of crimson tinge their braided snow. wilson. . when the glorious sun has gone, and the gathering darkness of _night comes on_; like a curtain from god's kind hand it flows, to shade the couch where his children repose. h. ware, jr. . you love the deep, deep pause, that reigns at _highest noon_, o'er hills and plains. carrington. . when the stars do disappear, with only one remaining, the morning star alone; just like a maid complaining, when all her hopes are gone. william crafts. . when climbs above the eastern bar the _horned moon_, with one bright star within the nether lip. coleridge. . when comes forth the _glorious day_, like a bridegroom richly dight, and before his flashing ray flies the sullen, vanquish'd night. s. g. bulfinch. . when apollo doth devise new apparelling for western skies. keats. . ere the evening lamps are lighted, and like phantoms, grim and tall, shadows from the fitful fire-light, dance upon the parlor wall. longfellow. . when like a dying lady, lean and pale, who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil, out of her chamber, led by the insane and feeble wanderings of her fading brain, the _moon arises_ on the murky earth. shelley. . _morning_ in your garden, when each leaf of crisped green hangs tremulous in diamonds, with em'rald rays between. it is the birth of nature, baptized in early dew, the plants look meekly up and smile as if their god they knew. mrs. gilman. . ah, let the gay the roseate morning hail, when, in the various blooms of light array'd, she bids fresh beauty live along the vale, and rapture tremble in the vocal shade. sweet is the lucid morning's opening flower, her choral melodies benignly rise; yet dearer to your soul the _shadowy hour_ at which her blossoms close, her music dies. miss h. m. williams. . the _middle watch_ of a summer's _night_, when earth is dark, but the heavens are bright; naught is seen in the vault on high, but the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky, and the flood, which rolls its milky hue, a river of white on the welkin blue. drake. . when little birds begin discourse, in quick, low voices, _ere the streaming light_ pours on their nests from out the day's fresh source. r. h. dana. . _morning_, when the sun pours his first light amid a forest, and with ray aslant, entering its depth, illumes the branchless pines, brightening their bark, tinging with redder hue its rusty stains, and casting on the earth long lines of shadow, where they rise erect like pillars of a temple. southey--_madoc_. . _sunrise_, slanting on a city, when the early risen poor are coming in, duly and cheerfully to toil, and up rises the hammer's clink, with the far hum of moving wheels, and multitudes astir, and all that in a city murmur swells. n. p. willis. . when the _west_ opens her golden bowers of _rest_, and a moist radiance from the skies shoots trembling down, as from the eyes of some meek penitent, whose last bright hours atone for dark ones past, and whose sweet tears o'er wrong forgiven, shine, as they fall, with light from heaven. moore--_lalla rookh_. . the _midnight_ hour, when slow through the studious gloom, thy pausing eye, led by the glimmering taper, moves around the sacred volumes of the dead. akenside--_pleasures of the imagination_. . when _evening's virgin queen_ sits on her fringed throne serene, and mingling whispers, rising near, steal on the still reposing ear. h. k. white. . when the moon riseth as if dreaming, treading with still white feet the lulled sea. _from the etonian._ . when day hath put on his jacket, and around his burning bosom button'd it with stars. o. w. holmes. . _morning_, with all her attributes; the slow impearling of the heavens, the sparkling white on the webb'd grass, the fragrant mistiness, the fresh airs, with the twinkling leaves at sport, and all the gradual and emerging light, the crystalline distinctness settling clear, and all the wakening of strengthening sound. milman--_lord of the bright city_. . her _twilight_ robe when nature wears, and evening sheds her sweetest tears, which every thirsty plant receives, while silence trembles on the leaves. from every tree, and flower, and bush, there seems to breathe a soothing hush, while every transient sound but shows how deep and still is the repose. mrs. follen. . when as the _evening shades prevail_, the moon takes up her wondrous tale, and, nightly, to the listening earth proclaims the story of her birth. while all the stars that round her burn, and all the planets in their turn, confirm the tidings as they roll, and spread the truth from pole to pole. addison. . when thronging constellations rush in crowds, paving with fire the sky. shelley. . a _beautiful sunset_, when warm o'er the lake its splendor, at parting, a summer eve throws, like a bride full of blushes, when lingering to take a last look of her mirror at night ere she goes. moore--_lalla rookh_. . the _midnight_ hour, the starlight wedding of the earth and heaven, when music breathes in perfume from the flower, and high revealings to the heart are given. s. l. fairfield. . weel may'st thou welcome the night's deathly reign, wi' souls of the dearest ye're mingling then; the gowd light o' mornin' is lightless to thee, but, oh! for the _night_ wi' its ghost revelrie. william thom. . come, stir the fire, and close the shutters fast; let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round; and while the bubbling and loud hissing urn throws up a steamy column, and the cups that cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, so will you welcome cheerful _evening_ in. cowper--_task_. . when the _moon_ bends her _new_ silver bow, as if to fling her arrowy lustre through some vapor's wing. park benjamin. . be it the _summer noon_; a sandy space the ebbing tide has left upon its place, while the broad basin of the ocean keeps an equal motion, swelling as it sleeps, then, slowly sinking, curling to the strand, faint, lazy waves o'er-creep the ridgy sand. ships in the calm seem anchor'd, for they glide on the still sea, urged solely by the tide. crabbe. . night; when the stars are gemming heaven, and seem like angels' eyes, resuming still their silent watch within the far-off skies. when tenderly they gaze on us, those children of the air, while every ray they send to us some message seems to bear. miss lewis. . the _sabbath morn_ so sweet;--all sounds save nature's voice are still; mute shepherd's song-pipe, mute the harvest horn, a holier tongue is given to brook and rill; old men climb silently their cottage-hill, there ruminate, and look sublime abroad, shake from their feet, as thought on thought comes still, the dust of life's long, dark, and dreary road, and rise from this gross earth, and give the day to god. thomas miller. . when the fair young moon in a silver bow looks back from the bending west, like a weary soul that is glad to go to the long-sought place of rest. when her crescent lies in a beaming crown, on the distant hill's dark head, serene as the righteous looking down on the world from his dying-bed. miss h. f. gould. . when gleaming through the gorgeous fold of clouds, around his glory roll'd, the _orb of gold_, half hid, half seen, swells his rays of tremulous sheen, that, widely as the billows roll, glance quivering on their distant goal. sotheby--_constance de castile_. . when, like lobster boiled, the _morn_ from black to red begins to turn. butler--_hudibras_. . when in mid air, on seraph wing, the paly _moon_ is journeying in stillest paths of stainless blue. keen, curious stars are peering through heaven's arch this hour; they dote on her with perfect love, nor can she stir within her vaulted halls apace, ere, rushing out with joyous face, these godkins of the sky smile as she glides in loveliness, while every heart beats high with passion, and breaks forth to bless her loftier divinity. motherwell. . when comes still evening on, and twilight gray hath in her sober livery all things clad, silence accompanying. milton--_paradise lost_. . when calm the grateful air, and loth to lose day's grateful warmth, though moist with falling dews; look for the stars, you'll say that there are none; look up a second time, and one by one you mark them twinkle out, with silvery light, and wonder how they could elude your sight. wordsworth. . when your fire, with dim unequal light, just glimmering, bids each shadowy image fall sombrous and strange upon the darkening wall, ere the clear taper chase the deepening night. w. l. bowles. . when the sun's broad orb seems resting on the burnish'd wave, and lines of purple gold hang motionless, above the _sinking sphere_. shelley. . _morn_ breaking in the east. when purple clouds are putting on their gold and violet, to look the meeter for the sun's bright coming. n. p. willis. . when the day in golden slumber sinks, with accent sweet _mild evening_ comes, to lure the willing feet with her to stray, where'er the bashful flowers the observant eye may greet. h. pickering. . the light of _midnight_ skies when the red meteor rides the cloud. miss landon. . when at _noon_, high on his throne, the visible lord of light rides in his fullest blaze, and dashes wide thick flashes from his wheels _j. g. percival._ . _night_ on the waves, when the moon is on high, hung like a gem on the brow of the sky, treading its depths in the power of her might, and turning the clouds as they pass her to light. j. k. hervey. . when yonder _western throng of clouds_ _retiring_ from the sky, so calmly move, so softly glow, they seem, to fancy's eye, bright creatures of a better sphere, come down at noon to worship here, and from their sacrifice of love returning to their courts above. g. d. prentice. . when the _moon_, her lids unclosing, deigns to smile serenely on the charmed sea, that shines, as if inlaid with lightning chains, from which it hardly struggled to be free. epes sargent. . the _high festival of night_, when earth is radiant with delight, and fast as weary day retires the heaven unfolds its secret fires, bright, as when first the firmament around the new-made world was bent, and infant seraphs pierced the blue, till rays of heaven came shining through. w. b. o. peabody. . when the _sun_ _rises_, visiting earth with light, and heat, and joy; and seems as full of youth, and strong to mount the steep of heaven, as when the stars of morning sang to his first dawn. pollok--_course of time_. . let others hail the oriflamme of morn, o'er kindling hills unfurl'd, with gorgeous dyes, oh, mild blue _evening_, still to thee we turn, with holier thoughts and with undazzled eyes. r. c. sands. . _night_; when a cloud, which through the sky, sailing alone, doth cross in her career the rolling moon;--to watch it as it comes, and deem the deep opaque will blot her beams; but melting like a wreath of snow, it hangs in folds of wavy silver round, and clothes the orb with richer beauties than her own; then, passing, leaves her in her light serene. southey--_madoc_. . thine own loved _moon's_, that every soft and solemn spirit worships; that lovers love so well; strange joy is _hers_, whose influence o'er all tides of soul hath power. she lends her light to rapture and despair; the glow of hope, and wan hue of sick fancy, alike reflect her rays; alike they light the path of meeting or of parting love; alike on mingling or on breaking hearts _she_ smiles in throned beauty. maturin--_bertram_. . _sunrise;_ rolling back the clouds into vapors more lovely than the unclouded sky, with golden pinnacles and snowy mountains, and billows purpler than the ocean's, making in heaven a glorious mockery of the earth, so like, we almost deem it permanent; so fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught beyond a vision, 'tis so transiently scatter'd along the eternal vault; and yet it dwells upon the soul, and sooths the soul, and blends itself into the soul, until sunrise and sunset form the haunted epoch of sorrow and of love. byron--_sardanapalus_. what musical sounds do you love? oh for some soul-affecting scheme of _moral_ music. wordsworth. music, round her creep---- seek her out, and when you find her, gentle, gentlest music, wind her round and round, round and round, with your bands of softest sound. barry cornwall. what musical sounds do you love? . the sweet and solemn sound of sabbath worshippers. w. c. bryant. . the _bugle_, silver-tipp'd, that with a breath, long-drawn, and slow-expiring, sends forth that strain, which, echoing through the wilds, tells of a loved one's glad return. southey. . the voice of _waters_, and the sheen of silver _fountains_ leaping to the sea. n. p. willis. . the _humbee_ singing drowsily among the flowers, sleepily, sleepily, in noontide swayeth he, half balanced on a slender stalk. j. r. lowell. . _one voice_, in its low, musical depth, more dear and thrilling than the crowds' applause; even as the far-off murmur of the surge, heard at hush'd eve, is sweeter than the homage of waves tumultuous, dashing at your feet. mrs. ellet. . _small voices_, and an old _guitar_, winning their way to an unguarded heart. rogers--_italy_. . when soft music comes to thine ear, as thou liest at night, thine eyes half closed in sleep, and thy soul as a stream flowing at pleasant sounds. it is like the rising breeze that whirls at first the thistle's beard, then flies dark-shadowy over the grass. ossian. . kissing cymbals making merry din. keats. . _merry cricket_, twittering thing! how you love to hear it sing! chirping tenant, child of mirth, minstrel of the poor man's hearth. eliza cook. . the wild enchanting _horn_! whose music up the deep and dewy air, swells to the clouds, and calls on echo there, till a new melody is born. grenville mellen. . _soft lydian airs married to immortal verse_; such as meeting soul may pierce, in notes, with many a winding bout of linked with sweetness long drawn out, with wanton heed, and giddy cunning, the melting voice through mazes running, untwisting all the cords that tie the hidden soul of harmony. milton--l'allegro. . words to the witches in macbeth unknown; _hydraulics_, _hydrostatics_, and _pneumatics_, _chlorine_, and _iodine_, and _ærostatics_. halleck. . the light _guitar_; its holiest time the evening star, when liquid voices echo far. j. g. percival. . _cataracts_ that blow their trumpets from the steep! wordsworth. . through your very heart it thrilleth, when from crimson-threaded lips silver-treble _laughter_ trilleth. tennyson. . the _cricket's_ chirp, and the answer shrill of the gauze-winged _katydid_. j. r. drake. . naught as the music of _praise_ and _prayer_ is half so sweet. bowring. . _notes heard far off_; so far, as but to seem like the faint exquisite music of a dream. moore. . a solemn _dirge_; now swelling high in lofty strains, and now in cadence soft, seeming to die away upon the ear; then swelling loud again, reaching the skies, as if to mingle with the music there. mrs. dana. . _distance-mellow'd song_, from bowers of merriment. southey. . the melancholy strain of that sad _bird_ who sounds at night the warning note, that shuts the delicate young flowers. w. g. simms. . the glad voice, the laughing voice of _streams_, and the low cadence of the silvery _sea_. mrs. hemans. . _old songs_ of love and sorrow. mary howitt. . the lively air when love enlists the _serenader's_ skill. mrs. dana. . the musical confusion of _hounds_ and _echo_ in conjunction. _midsummer night's dream._ . when o'er the clear still water swells the music of the _sabbath bells_. w. c. bryant. . a deep and thrilling _song_, which seems with piercing melody to reach the soul, and in mysterious union blend with all thoughts of gentleness and love. southey. . ever wakeful _echo_; the nymph of sportive mockery, that still hides behind every rock and every dell, and softly glides, unseen, from hill to hill; no sound doth rise but mimic it she will. theodore fay. . the sounding _viol_; when eyes with speaking glances, kindle high with pleasure, as rings the well-known strain; with easy gliding motion, involved in graceful fancies, of light uncertain measure, responds the fairy train. j. g. percival. . low _whisperings in boats_, as they shoot through the moonlight, with drippings of oars. moore. . the _hunter's shout_, when clanging _horns_ swell their sweet winding notes, the _pack wide-opening_ on the trembling air with various melody. somerville--_the chace._ . the sounds awaken'd there in the _pine leaves_ fine and small, soft and sweetly musical, by the fingers of the air. j. g. whittier. . the song of _spirits_ that will sometimes sail close to the ear, a deep, delicious stream, then sweep away, and die with a low wail. croly--_angel of the world._ . the roar of _ocean's_ everlasting surges, tumbling upon the beach's hard-beat floor, or sliding backward to the shore, to meet the landward wave, and slowly plunge once more. j. r. lowell. . the _rivulet_, which sending glad sounds, and tripping o'er its bed of pebbly sands, or leaping down the rocks, seems, with continuous laughter, to rejoice in its own being. w. c. bryant. . _a damsel singing to herself_ _a song of love by snatches_; breaking off if but a flower, an insect on the wing please for an instant, then as carelessly the strain resuming. rogers--_italy._ . the sound of the _church-going bell_, when it bursts on the ear with its full, rich swell. miss m. davidson. . the brisk, awakening _viol_, whose sweet, entrancing voice you love the best. collins. . the _blackbird's merry chant_. bold plunderer! how sweet to hear his mellow burst of song float from his watch-place on the mossy tree, close at the cornfield's edge! j. mclellan. . the sound of music at even-fall, filling the heart with a flow of thought and feeling sweet, when _lips that we love_ breathe forth the song. louisa p. smith. . the harp eolian; faintly at first it begins, scarce heard, and gentle its rising, low as the softest breath that passes at summer evening; then, as it swells and mounts up, the thrilling melody deepens, till a mightier, holier virtue comes with its powerful tone. southey. . the chirp of _birds_, blithe _voices_, lowing _kine_, the dash of _waters_, _reed_, or rustic _pipe_, blent with the dulcet, distance-mellow'd _bell_. hillhouse. . a _song of love and jollitye_, to drive away dull melancholy. spenser. . _preluding low_, soft notes that faint and tremble, swelling, awakening, dying, plaining deep; while such sensations in the soul assemble, as make it pleasant to the eyes to weep. mrs. maria brooks. . _song of maids_ beneath the moon, with fairy _laughter_ blent. w. c. bryant. . to hear the glorious swell of chanted psalm and prayer, and the deep _organ's_ bursting heart throb through the shivering air. j. r. lowell. . a noise like of a _hidden brook_, in the leafy month of june, that to the sleeping woods all night singeth a quiet tune. coleridge. . approaching _trumpets_, that with quavering start, on the smooth wind come dancing to the heart. leigh hunt--_rimini_. . a _laugh_ full of life, without any control but the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from the soul. moore--_lalla rookh_. . _fifes_, _cornets_, _drums_, that rouse the sleepy soul to arms, and bold heroic deeds. somerville--_the chace_. . a _little song_, neither sad nor very long. barry cornwall. . a voice of music in the rustling leaves, when the green boughs are hung with living lutes, whose strings will only vibrate to his hand who made them. miss h. f. gould. . the drums beat in the mornin', afore the scriech o' day, and the wee, wee fifes piped loud and shrill, while yet the morn is gray. motherwell. . the unseen _hawk_ _whistling_ to clouds, and sky-born streams. wordsworth. . the low, sweet _shell_, by whose far music shall thy soul be haunted. miss landon. . the _trumpet's_ war-note proud, the _trampling_ and the _hum_! macaulay. . a pattering sound of ripen'd _acorns_, rustling to the ground through the crisp, wither'd leaves. mrs. whitman. . _birds_ and _brooks_ from leafy dells, chiming forth unwearied canticles. wordsworth. . when the _organ peal_, loud rolling, meets the halleluiahs of the _choir_; sublime, a thousand notes symphoniously ascend, as if the whole were one; suspended high in air, soaring heavenward, afar they float, wafting glad tidings to the sick man's couch. grahame--_the sabbath_. . tinklings of a vigilant guitar, of sleepless lover to a wakeful mistress. byron. what is your favorite flower? i would i had some flowers of the spring that might become your time of day; and yours;--and yours. _winter's tale._ i send thee flowers, oh dearest, and i deem that from their petals thou wilt hear sweet words, whose music, sweeter than the voice of birds, when breathed to thee alone, perchance may seem all eloquent of feelings unexpress'd. park benjamin. a garland lay him by, made by himself of many several flowers, stuck in that mystic order that the rareness delighted me. beaumont and fletcher. what is your favorite flower? . the _sensitive plant_, the earliest up-gathered unto the bosom of rest, a sweet child, weary of its delight, the feeblest, and yet the favorite, cradled within the embrace of night. shelley. . the _jasmine_; pride of carolina's early spring! fairy land is not more beautiful, than when, full blown, the jasmine, gilt by the creator's hand, hangs all around us. mrs. dana. . _hyacinths_, ringing their soft bells to call the bees from the anemonies, jealous of their bright rivals' glowing wealth. miss landon. . _primroses_, which, when the lengthen'd shadows fall like soft dreams o'er the earth, and all around a sabbath reigns as at creation's birth, burst the magic bands of clay, and greet with smiles the sun's last ray. miss m. e. lee. . the chaste _camelia's_ pure and spotless bloom, that boasts no fragrance, and conceals no thorn. w. roscoe. . the light _snowdrops_, which, starting from their cells, hang each pagoda with their silver bells. o. w. holmes. . a _tulip_, which titania may have chosen for rest or revelry, to feast or doze in. miss moise. . _roses_, beautiful each, but different all; one with that pure but crimson flush, that marks a maiden's first love blush; _one_, pale as the snow of the funeral stone; _another_, rich as the damask die of a monarch's purple drapery; and _one_ hath leaves like the leaves of gold worked on that drapery's royal fold. miss landon. . the _hare-bell_ on the heath, the forest tree beneath, which springs like elfin dweller of the wild; light as a breeze astir stemm'd with the gossamer, soft as the blue eyes of a poet's child. mary howitt. . thou sweet _daisy_, common-place of nature, with that homely face, and yet, with something of a grace, which love makes for thee! wordsworth. . the good old _passion-flower_! it bringeth to thy mind the young days of the christian church, dim ages left behind. mary howitt. . _sweet peas_ on tiptoe for a flight, with wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, and taper fingers, catching at all things, to bind them round about with tiny rings. keats. . _heart's ease._ one could look for half a day upon this flower, and shape in fancy out full twenty different tales of love and sorrow, that gave this gentle name. mary howitt. . the humble _rosemary_, whose sweets so thanklessly are shed to scent the dead. moore. . the _primrose_, all bepearl'd with dew, so yellow, green, and richly too. ask you why the stalk is weak, and bending, yet it doth not break? i must tell you these discover what doubts and fears are in a lover. carew. . those greater far than all our blessed lord did see, the _lilies_ beautiful, which grew in the fields of galilee! mary howitt. . a little flower, which before the bolt of cupid fell milk-white, now purple with love's wound, and maidens call it _love-in-idleness_. _midsummer night's dream._ . the _lilac_, various in array--now white, now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set with purple spikes pyramidal, as if, studious of ornament, yet unresolved which hue she most approved, she chose them all. cowper. . _king-cup_, with its canary hue; 'twas from this goblet psyche drew the nectar for her butterflies. miss moise. . _jasmine_, with her pale stars shining through the myrtle darkness of her leaf's green hue. mrs. norton. . the _water-lilies_, that glide so pale, as if with constant care of the treasures which they bear; for those ivory vases hold each a sunny gift of gold. miss landon. . _daffodils_, that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of march with beauty. _winter's tale._ . sweet _wild-flowers_, that hold their quiet talk upon the uncultured green. mrs. gilman. . the virgin _lilies_ in their white, clad but with the lawn of almost naked white. cowley. . the _hyacinth_, for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue. burns. . blue _pelloret_, from purple leaves up-slanting a modest gaze, like eyes of a young maiden, shining beneath dropp'd lids, the evening of her wedding. drake. . a _tulip_ just open'd, offering to hold a butterfly gaudy and gay, or rocking its cradle of crimson and gold, where the careless young slumberer lay. miss gould. . she comes--the first, the fairest thing that heaven upon the earth doth fling, ere winter's star has set; she dwells behind her leafy screen, and gives as angels give--unseen,-- the _violet_! barry cornwall. . the rich _magnolia_, high priestess of the flowers, whose censer fills the air. mrs. sigourney. . cereus, who wastes on night's dull eye a blaze of charms. darwin. . the _scarlet creeper's_ bloom, when 'midst her leaves the humbird's varying dyes sparkle like half-seen fairy eyes. dr. s. h. dickson. . you love the sweet geranium's smell, its scollop'd leaves, and crimson flower; of days long passed it seems to tell, and memory owns its magic power. miss maria james. . the _wayside weed_ of homeliest hue, looking erect up to the golden blue. for thus it speaketh to the thinking mind-- "o'erlook me not: i for a purpose grew; on us one sunshine falls!" thomas miller. . the last _violet_ that sheds its fragrance on the chill, damp air of a november morn, like love in death. lady flora hastings. . the _peony_, with drooping head, which blows a transient hour, and gently shaken in the breeze, descends a crimson shower. miss maria james. . the _blue fleur-de-lis_, in the warm sunlight shining, as if grains of gold in its petals were set. mary howitt. . the pale and delicate _narcissus_' flowers, bending so languidly, as still they found in the pure wave a love and destiny. miss landon. . the _violet's_ azure eye, which gazes on the sky, until its hue grows like what it beholds. shelley. . the _evening primrose_, o'er which the wind might gladly take a pleasant sleep, but that 'tis ever startled by the leap of buds into fresh flowers. keats. . the _clematis_, all graceful and fair; you may set it like pearls in the folds of your hair. mrs. a. m. wells. . the _tulip_, whose passionate leaves with their ruby glow hide the heart that is burning and black below. miss landon. . the _almond_, though its branch is sere, with myriad blossoms beautiful; as pink, as is the shell's inside. mary howitt. . lilies for a bridal bed, roses for a matron's head, violets for a maiden dead-- _pansies_ let thy flower be. shelley. . the _barberry-bush_, whose yellow blossoms hang, as when a child by grassy lane along you lightly sprang. mrs. gilman. . the shower wets not a rose that buds in beauty's bower one half so lovely as the _sweet brier_; ----for it grows along the poor man's pathway, by the poor man's door. brainerd. . the low dwarf _acacia_, that droops as it grows, and the leaves, as you gather them, tremble and close. mrs. a. m. wells. . the _cowslip_, that, bending with its golden bells, of each glad hour's ending, with a sweet chime tells. miss landon. . the beautiful _clover_, so round and red; there is not a thing in twenty, that lifts in the morning so sweet a head, above its leaves on its earthly bed, with so many horns of plenty. miss h. f. gould. . a _lily flower_, the old egyptian's emblematic mark of joy immortal, and of pure affection. wordsworth. . _mignionette_ the little nun, in meekness shedding soft perfume. miss p. moise. . the _heliotrope_, whose gray and heavy wreath mimics the orchard blossom's fruity breath. mrs. norton. . the timid _jasmine-buds_, that keep their odors to themselves all day, but when the sunlight dies away, let the delicious secret out. moore. . _violets_ dim, but sweeter than the lids of juno's eyes, or cytherea's breath. _winter's tale._ . _fox-glove_, whose purple vest conceals its hollow heart. miss moise. . the _housatonia cerulea_, its snowy circle ray'd with crosslets, bending its pearly whiteness round, while the spreading lips are bound with such a mellow shade, as in the vaulted blue deepens at midnight, or grows pale when mantled in the full moon's slender veil. percival. . the _lily_, imperial beauty, fair unrivall'd one! what flower of earth has honor high as thine, to find thy name on _his_ unsullied lips whose eye was light from heaven! miss h. f. gould. . the little _windflower_, whose just open'd eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at; startling the loiterer in naked paths with unexpected beauty. w. c. bryant. . the trailing _arbutus_, shrouding its grace, till fragrance bewrayeth its hiding-place. mrs. sigourney. . the _woodbine wild_, that loves to hang on barren boughs remote her wreaths of flowery perfume. w. mason--_the english garden_. . the naiad-like _lily of the vale_, whom youth makes so fair and passion so pale, that the light of its tremulous bells is seen through their pavilions of tender green. shelley. what gratifies your taste or your affections? "we like not most what most is twin to self, "but that which best supplies the void within." what gratifies your taste, or your affections? . to walk in _choice gardens_, and from variety of curious flowers contemplate nature's workmanship and wonders. massinger. . you love to wander by old _ocean's_ side, and hold communion with its sullen tide, to climb the _mountain's_ everlasting wall, and linger where the _thunder-waters_ fall. sprague. . _happy children at their play_, whose hearts run over into song. j. r. lowell. . _dogs_ of grave demeanor, all meekness, gentleness, though large of limb. rogers--_italy_. . _old legends_ of the monkish page, traditions of the saint and sage, tales that have the rime of age and character of eld. longfellow. . gentleman.-- a _lock_, a _leaf_, that some dear girl has given; frail record of an hour, as brief as sunset clouds in heaven, but spreading purple twilight still high over memory's shadow'd hill. o. w. holmes. . lady.--there's little that you care for now, except a simple _wedding ring_. thomas miller. . _fruits that have just begun to flush_ on the side that is next the sun. h. f. gould. . gentleman.--you do wish that you could be a _sailor_, on the rolling sea; in the shadow of the sails you would ride and rock all day, going whither blow the gales, as you've heard the seamen say. l. s. noble. . lady.--by the _low cradle_ thou delight'st to sit of sleeping infants, watching their soft breath. charlotte smith. . you like a _ring_, an ancient ring, of massive form, and virgin gold; as firm, as free from base alloy as were the sterling hearts of old. g. w. doane. . there's a room you love dearly, the sanctum of bliss, that holds all the comforts you least like to miss; where, like ants in a hillock, you run in and out, where sticks grace the corner, and hats lie about, with book-shelves, where tomes of all sizes are spread, not placed to be look'd at, but meant to be read. eliza cook. . gentleman.--ah, how glorious to be free, your good _dog_ by your side, with _rifle_ hanging on your arm, to range the forest wide. e. peabody. . lady.-- to look into the smooth clear glass, where as you bend to look, just opposite, a shape within the polish'd frame appears bending to look on you. milton, _modified_. . your sociable piazza,--you prize its quiet talk, when arm in arm with one you love you tread the accustom'd walk, or loll within your rocking-chair, not over nice or wise, and yield the careless confidence where heart to heart replies. mrs. gilman. . an eye that will mark your coming, and look brighter when you come. byron. . give you a slight _flirtation_, by the light of a chandelier, with music to fill up the pauses and nobody very near. n. p. willis. . give all things else their honor due, but _gooseberry-pie_ is best. southey. . an ever _drizzling_ raine upon the lofte, mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sownde of murmuring bees. spenser--_fairy queen_. . oh, sweeter than the marriage feast, 'tis sweeter far to thee, to walk together to the kirk with a goodly company. coleridge--_ancient mariner_. . the world below hath not for thee such a fair and glorious sight, as a noble _ship_ on a rippling sea in the clear and full moonlight. eliza cook. . gentleman.-- a _noble horse_, with flowing back, firm chest, and fetlocks clean, the branching veins ridging the glossy lean, the mane hung sleekly, the projecting eye that to the stander near looks awfully, the finish'd head in its compactness free, small, and o'er-arching to the bended knee, the start and snatch, as if he felt the comb, with mouth that flings about the creamy foam, the snorting turbulence, the nod, the champing, the shift, the tossing, and the fiery tramping. leigh hunt--_rimini_. . lady.-- your witless puss; while many a stroke of fondness glides along her back and tabby sides, dilated swells her glossy fur, and softly sings her busy pur; as timing well the equal sound, her clutching feet bepat the ground, and all their harmless claws disclose like prickles of an early rose, while softly from her whisker'd cheek the half-closed eyes peer mild and meek. joanna baillie. . the tall larch sighing in the _burial place_, or willow trailing low its boughs, to hide the gleaming marble. w. c. bryant. . the dance, pleasant with graceful flatteries. miss landon. . you rather look on _smiling faces_, and linger round a _cheerful hearth_, than mark the stars' bright hiding-places, as they peep out upon the earth. mrs. welby. . wreathy _shells_, with lips of red, on a beach of whiten'd sand. hosmer. . when to the startled eye the sudden glance appears far south, _eruptive, through the cloud_, and following slower, in explosion vast, the _thunder_ raises his tremendous voice. thomson--_seasons_. . gentleman.--"'tis heaven to lounge upon a couch," said gray, "and read new novels through a rainy day." add but the spanish weed, the bard was right. sprague. . lady.--your moralizing knitting-work, whose threads most aptly show how evenly around life's span our busy threads should go; and if a stitch perchance should drop, as life's frail stitches will, how, if we patient take it up, the work will prosper still. mrs. gilman. . 'tis pleasant, by the cheerful hearth, to hear of tempests, and the dangers of the deep, and pause at times, and feel that we are safe, then listen to the perilous tale again, and with an eager and suspended soul woo terror to delight us. southey--_madoc_. . the _moon_, which kisseth every where, with silver lip, dead things to life. keats. . the _insect_, that when evening comes, small though he be, and scarce distinguishable, unsheaths his wings, and through the woods and glades scatters a marvellous splendor. rogers--_italy_. . when down the green lane come heart-peals of laughter, for school has sent its eldest inmates forth, and when a smaller band comes dancing after, filling the air with shouts of infant mirth. mrs. scott. . _a couch near to a curtaining_, whose airy texture, from a golden string floating, into the room permits appear unveil'd, the summer heaven, blue and clear. keats. . dear to your heart are the scenes of your childhood, when fond recollection presents them to view, the orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, and every loved spot which your infancy knew. woodworth. . to seek the patient _fisher's_ silent stand, intent, your angle trembling in your hand; with looks unmoved to lure the scaly breed, and eye the dancing cork and bending reed. pope. . _converse_, which qualifies for solitude, as exercise for salutary rest. young--_night thoughts_. . gentleman.--to follow, fleetest of the fleet, the _red deer_, driven along its native plains, with cry of _hound_ and _horn_. wordsworth. . lady.--one wild-flower from the path of love, all lowly though it lie, is dearer than the wreath that waves to stern ambition's eye. h. t. tuckerman. . the laugh-provoking _pun_; absurd though it be, far-fetched, hard to be discern'd, it serves the purpose if it shake our sides. grahame. . you have a wish, and it is this--that in some uncouth glen, it were your lot to find a spot, unknown by selfish men, where you might be securely free, like eremite of old, from worldly guile, from woman's wile, and friendships brief and cold. motherwell. . you love the fields, the woods, the streams, the wild-flowers fresh and sweet, and yet you love no less than these the crowded city street; for _haunts of men_, where'er they be, awake your deepest sympathy. mary howitt. . sleep,--soft closer of our eyes, low murmurer of tender lullabies. keats. . you love the sweet _sabbath_, that bids in repose the plough in its mid-furrow stand. dr. gilman. . pleasant it is when woods are green, and winds are soft and low, to lie amid some sylvan scene, where, the long drooping boughs between, shadows dark and sunlight sheen alternate come and go. longfellow. . gentleman.--to beat the surges under you, and ride upon their backs; to tread the water whose enmity you flung aside, and breast the surge most swollen, that meets you; your bold head 'bove the contentious waves keeping, and oar yourself with your good arms, in lusty stroke to the shore. _tempest._ . lady.--beside the dimness of the _glimmering sea_, with a dear friend to linger, beneath the gleams of the silver stars. shelley. . to pluck some way-side flower, and _press it_ in the choicest nook of a much-loved and oft-read _book_. j. r. lowell. . a wheel-footed _studying-chair_, contrived both for toil and repose, wide-elbow'd, and wadded with care, in which you both scribble and doze. cowper. . gentleman.--hurrah for you! the wind is up, it bloweth fresh and free, and every chord, instinct with life, pipes out its fearless glee; big swell the bosom'd sails with joy, and they madly kiss the spray, as proudly through the foaming surge the sea-king bears away. motherwell. . lady.--to place your lips to a spiral shell, and breathe through every fold; or look for the depth of its pearly cell, as a miser would look for gold. miss h. f. gould. . gentleman.-- the soil to tread where man hath nobly striven, and life like incense hath been shed an offering unto heaven. mrs. hemans. . lady.--the old _study-corner_ by a nook, crowded with volumes of the old romance. n. p. willis. . ay, 'tis to you a glorious sight to gaze on _ocean's_ ample face; an awful joy, a deep delight, to see his laughing waves embrace each other, in their frolic race. george lunt. . you love the _pictures_ that you see at times in some _old gallery_; you love them, although art may deem such pictures of but light esteem. mary howitt. . gentleman.-- a brown cigar, a special, smooth-skinn'd, real havanna. motherwell. . lady.--your quiet, pleasant _chamber_, with the rose-vine woven round the casement. miss mitford. . _old books_ to read! ay, bring those nodes of wit, the brazen-clasp'd, the vellum writ, time-honor'd tomes. henry carey. . a _youthful mother_ to her infant smiling, who with spread arms, and dancing feet, and cooing voice, returns an answer sweet. joanna baillie. . gentleman.--to be toss'd on the waves alone, or mid the crew of joyous comrades, now the reedy marge clearing, with strenuous arm dipping the oar. wordsworth. . lady.--when the sail is slack, the course is slow, that at your leisure, as you coast along, you may contemplate, and from every scene receive its influence. rogers. . an antique _chair_, cushion'd with cunning luxury. n. p. willis. . you love a hand that meets your own with grasp that causes some sensation; you love a voice whose varying tone from truth has learn'd its modulation. mrs. osgood. . when each and all come crowding round to share a cordial greeting, the beloved sight; when welcomings of hand and lip are there, and when these overflowings of delight subside into a sense of quiet bliss, life hath no purer, deeper happiness. southey. . oh yes, the poor man's garden! it is great joy to thee, this little, precious piece of ground, beside his door to see. for in the poor man's garden grow far more than herbs and flowers, kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind, and joy for weary hours. mary howitt. . to be sad, and say nothing. _as you like it._ . sweet _poetry_, the alchymy which turneth all it toucheth into gold. mrs. dana. . gentleman.-- with a _swimmer's_ stroke to fling the billows back from your drench'd hair, and laughing from your lip the audacious brine; ----rising o'er the waves as they arise, and prouder still the loftier they uplift thee; then, exulting, with a far-dashing stroke, and drawing deep the long suspended breath, again to spurn the foam which breaks around thee, and pursue thy track like a sea-bird. byron--_the two foscari_. . lady.--a _needle_, which though it be small and tender, yet it is both a maker and a mender, a grave reformer of old rents decay'd, stops holes, and seams, and desperate cuts display'd; and for your country's quiet, you would like that womankind should use no other pike. it will increase their peace, enlarge their store, to use their tongues less, and their needles more. the needle's sharpness profit yields and pleasure, but sharpness of the tongue bites out of measure. john taylor--_needle's excellency_. . _infant charms_, unconscious fascination, undesign'd; the orison repeated in your arms, the book, the bosom on your knee reclined, the low sweet fairy lore to con. campbell--_gertrude of wyoming_. . with _shakspeare's self_ to speak and smile alone, and no intruding visitation fear to shame the unconscious laugh, or stop your sweetest tear. campbell--_gertrude of wyoming_. for what have you a distaste or aversion? "i do not like you, dr. fell-- "the reason why i cannot tell; "but this i know full well, "i do not like you, dr. fell." for what have you a distaste or aversion? . gentleman.--three loud talking women, that are discoursing of the newest fashion. john tobin. . lady.--ye say, "there is naething i hate like the men, but the deuce gae wi'm to believe me." burns. . the banquet-hall, the play, the ball, have lost their charms for thee. g. p. morris. . it's hardly in a body's power to keep at times frae being sour, to see how things are shared; how best o' chiels are whiles in want, while coofs on countless thousands rant, and ken na how to wair't. burns. . oh, it is sad to look upon the play-place of our youthful hours, and mark what _wasting change_ hath run as fire amid its bowers, and sear'd its greenwood tree, and left a trunk all blacken'd and bereft! j. w. miller. . conversation, when reduced to say the hundredth time what you have said before. mrs. sigourney. . you never speak the word _farewell_ but with an utterance faint and broken, a heart-sick yearning for the time when it shall never more be spoken. bowles. . gentleman.--now, my lord, as for tripe, it's your utter aversion. goldsmith--_haunch of venison_. . lady.--an _exquisite_ of the highest stamp. albert pike. . to see things of no better mould than thou thyself art, greedily in fame's bright page enroll'd. motherwell. . weaving spiders.-- hence, you long-legged spinners, hence! _midsummer night's dream._ . you have no taste for _pomp_ and _strife_, which others love to find; your only wish, that bliss of life, a poor and quiet mind. clare. . you like not this _phrenology_, this system of unfolding the secret of a man's desires to every one's beholding. r. m. charlton. . the sullen passion, and the hasty pet, the swelling lip, the tear-distended eye, the peevish question, the perverse reply. hayley--_triumphs of temper_. . nor do you love that common phrase of guests, as, _we make bold_, or, _we are troublesome_; _we take you unprovided_, and the like; ----nor that common phrase of hosts, _oh, had i known your coming, we'd have had_ _such things and such_; nor blame of cook, to say, _this dish or that hath not been served with care_. thomas heywood and richard broome--_the late lancashire witches_. . tales of love were wont to weary you; i know you joy not in a _love-discourse_. _two gentlemen of verona._ . 'tis a dreary thing to be _tossing on the wide, wide sea_, when the sun has set in clouds, and the wind sighs through the shrouds, with a voice and with a tone like a living creature's moan! epes sargent. . _to hear the french talk french_ around you, and wonder how they understand each other; to hearken, and find all attempts confound you at guessing what they mean by all their pother. byron--_giuseppino_. . _books!_ out upon them; faithless chroniclers mere wordy counsellors--cold comforters in the hour of sorrow. lady flora hastings. . your curse upon the venom'd slang that shoots your tortured _gums_ alang, an' through your lugs gies mony a twang, wi' gnawing vengeance; tearing your nerves wi' bitter pang, like racking engines. burns. . as for stupid _reason_, that stalking, ten-foot rule, she's always out of season, a tedious, testy fool. mrs. follen. . gentleman.--that most active member of mortal things, a _woman's tongue_; something like a smoke-jack, for it goes ever, without winding up. john tobin--_honey moon_. . lady.--you would rather hear your dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves you. _much ado about nothing._ . age is dark and unlovely; it is like the glimmering light of the moon when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is on the hills: the blast of the north is on the plain; the traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey. ossian. . to have _odd quirks_ and remnants of _wit_ broken on you. _much ado about nothing._ . whenever a change is wrought, and you know not the reason why, in your own or an old friend's thought. barry cornwall. . you are weary of the endless theme of cupid's smiles and sighs, you are sick of reading rigmaroles about "my lady's eyes;" you cannot move, you cannot look around, below, above, but men and women, birds and bees, are prating about love. r. m. charlton. . you hate _ingratitude_ more in man, than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood. _twelfth night._ . there are haughty steps that would walk the globe o'er necks of humbler ones; _you_ would scorn to bow to their jewell'd robes, or the beam of their _coin-lit_ suns. miss l. p. smith. . you'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd, or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree, and that would set your teeth nothing on edge, nothing so much as _mincing poetry_. _henry iv._ . in your soul you loathe all _affectation_. 'tis your perfect scorn, object of your implacable disgust. cowper--_task_. . gentleman.--to pick up fans and knitting-needles, and list to songs, and tunes, and watch for smiles, and smile at pretty prattle. byron--_werner_. . lady.--an a lover be _tardy_, you had as lief be wooed of a snail; for though the snail comes slowly, he carries his house on his head. _as you like it._ . that the _king_ should reign on a throne of gold, fenced round by his power divine; that the _baron_ should sit in his castle old, drinking his ripe red wine; while below, below, in his ragged coat, the _beggar_ he tuneth a hungry note, and the _spinner_ is bound to his weary thread, and the _debtor_ lies down with an aching head. barry cornwall. . lighted halls, cramm'd full of fools and fiddles. r. c. sands. . to hear the roaring of the raging elements, to know all human skill, all human strength avail not; to look round, and only see the mountain wave, incumbent with its weight of bursting waters o'er the reeling bark;-- oh, god, this is indeed a dreadful thing! and he who hath endured the horror once of such an hour, doth never hear the storm howl round his home, but he remembers it, and thinks upon the suffering mariner. southey--_madoc_. . i perceive you delight not in _music_. _merry wives of windsor._ . you hate the gold and silver which persuade weak men to follow _far-fatiguing trade_; who madly think the flowery mountain's side, the fountain's murmur, and the valley's pride, the river's flow, less pleasing to behold than dreary deserts, if they lead to _gold_. collins--_eclogues_. . to climb life's worn and heavy wheel, which draws up _nothing new_. young--_night thoughts_. . to tax a _bad voice_ to slander music. an he had been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him. _much ado about nothing._ . it moves you more perhaps than folly ought, when some _green heads_, as void of wit as thought, suppose themselves monopolists of sense, and wiser mens' ability pretence. cowper. . gentleman.--a _woman moved_, which like a fountain troubled (is) muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty, and in no wise is meet or reasonable. _taming of the shrew._ . lady.-- the heavens preserve me from that dull blessing, an _obedient husband_. tobin--_honey moon_. . you're tired of _visits_, _modes_, and _forms_, and _flatteries_ paid to fellow-worms; their conversation cloys. dr. watts. . the _spider_, that weaver of cunning so deep, who rolls himself up in a ball to sleep. mrs. sigourney. . a _fly_ that tickles the nasal tip. miss h. f. gould. . _man_ delights not thee; no, nor _woman_ neither. _henry iv._ . church-yards _unadorn'd with shades_ and _blossoms_----naked rows of graves and melancholy ranks of monuments; ----where the course grass between shoots up its dull green spikes, and in the wind hisses; ----where the neglected bramble grows near the dead. bryant. . you all _punctilios_ hate, though long familiar with the great. swift. . that he who's right, and he who swerveth, meet at the goal the same, where no one hath what he deserveth, not even an empty name. barry cornwall. . wooing, wedding, and repenting. _much ado about nothing._ . soft-buzzing _slander_--silky moth that eats an honest name. thomson. . the blood-extracting bill and filmy wing, the light pump, and freckled feet-- of the _musquito_. bryant. . you do not like _but yet_; _but yet_ is as a jailer to bring forth some monstrous malefactor. _antony and cleopatra._ . gentleman.-- you'd rather ride a day's hunting on an outworn jade, than _follow in the train of a great man_ in his dull pageantries. byron--_werner_. . lady.--never yet did housewife notable greet with a smile a _rainy washing-day_. mrs. barbauld. . thou dread'st to see the glowing summer sun, and balmy blossoms on the tree unfolding one by one; they speak of things which once have been, but never more can be: and earth all deck'd in smiles again is still a waste to thee. sarah h. whitman. . softest winds are dreary, and summer sunlight weary, and sweetest things uncheery, you know not why. j. r. lowell. . the _guinea-hen_, which keeps a piercing and perpetual scream. mrs. sigourney. . sleep, infested with the burning sting of _bug_ infernal, who the live-long night with direst suction sips thy liquid gore. robert ferguson. . when you behold a spider prey on a fly, a magpie on a worm, or view a butcher, with horn-handled knife, slaughter a tender lamb as dead as mutton, indeed, indeed you're very, very sick! horace and james smith--_rejected addresses_. . where'er that place the priests ca' hell, whence a' the tones of misery yell, and ranked plagues their numbers tell, in dreadfu' row, thou, _toothache_, surely bear'st the bell amang them a'! burns. . you scorn this hated scene of masking and disguise, where men on men still gleam with falseness in their eyes, where all is counterfeit, and truth hath never say, where hearts themselves do cheat, concealing hope's decay, and, writhing at the stake, themselves do liars make. motherwell. . you call the time misspent that is bestow'd on loud-tongued orators, whose art it is to launch their hearers upon passion's tide, and drive them on by gusts of windy words. cumberland--_calvary_. . you do despise a _liar_ as you do despise one that is false, or as you despise one that is not true. _merry wives of windsor._ . _songs and unbaked poetry_, such as the dabblers of our time contrive, that has no weight, nor wheel to move the mind, nor indeed nothing but an empty sound. beaumont and fletcher--_the elder brother_. where or what will be your residence? the world was all before her, where to choose her place of rest, and providence her guide. milton. the _mind_ is its own place, and of itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. milton. where or what will be your residence? . near some fair town you'll have a _private seat_, built uniform, not little, nor too great; it shall within no other things contain, but what are useful, necessary, plain; a little garden grateful to the eye, while a cool rivulet runs murmuring by. _pomfret's choice._ . amongst the vines, see'st thou not where thy _villa_ stands? the moonbeam strikes on the granite column, and mountains rise sheltering round it. lady flora hastings. . child of the _town_ and _bustling street_, what woes and snares await thy feet! thy paths are paved for many miles, thy groves and hills are peaks and tiles. allan cunningham. . _a warm but simple home_, where thou'lt enjoy with one, who shares thy pleasures and thy heart, sweet converse, sipping calm the fragrant lymph which neatly is prepared. cowper. . _low in the glen_, down which a little stream hath furrow'd deep 'tween meeting birchen boughs, a shelvy channel, and brawling mingles with the western tide. far up the stream, almost beyond the roar of storm-bulged breakers, foaming o'er the rocks with furious dash, your lowly dwelling lurks, surrounded by a circlet of the stream. before the wattled door, a greensward plat with daises gay, pastures a playful lamb. a pebbly path, deep-worn, leads up the hill, winding among the trees, by wheel untouch'd. on every side it is a shelter'd spot, so high and suddenly the woody steeps arise. one only way, downward the stream, just o'er the hollow, 'tween the meeting boughs, the distant wave is seen, with now and then the glimpse of passing sail; though when the breeze cresteth the distant wave, this little nook is all so calm, that on the limberest spray the sweet bird chanteth motionless, the leaves at times scarce fluttering. grahame--_birds of scotland_. . neat is your house; each table, chair, and stool stands in its place, or moving, moves by rule; no lively print or picture grace the room, a plain brown paper lends its decent gloom. crabbe. . _a summer lodge amid the wild_,-- 'tis shadow'd by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine; the wild plum sheds its yellow fruit from fragrant thickets nigh, and flowery prairies from the door stretch till they meet the sky. bryant. . _beside a public way_, thick strewn with summer dust, and a great stream of people hurrying to and fro. shelley. . crowning a gradual hill, your mansion swells in ancient english grandeur; turrets, spires, and windows, climbing high from base to roof, in wide and radiant rows, bespeak its birth coeval with those rich cathedral fanes, (gothic ill-famed,) where harmony results from disunited parts; and shapes minute, at once distinct and blended, boldly form one vast majestic whole. w. mason--_the english garden_. . in a _proud city_ and a rich, a city fair and old, fill'd with the world's most costly things, of precious stones and gold; of silks, fine wool, and spiceries, and all that's bought and sold. mary howitt. . i see, i see the _rustic porch_, and close beside the door the old elm, waving still as green as in the days of yore. i see the wreathing smoke ascend in azure columns up the sky, i see the twittering swallow around in giddy circles fly. t. mclellan. . a house, whence, as by stealth, you catch among the hills a glimpse of busy life, that sooths, not stirs. rogers. . in stately dwelling built of squared _bricke_. spenser. . a _city_, that great sea whose ebb and flow at once is deaf and loud. in its depth what treasure--you will see. shelley. . in a fair and _stately mansion_, with old woods girdled around. howitt. . a _low, sweet home_, a pastoral dwelling with its ivied porch, and lattice, gleaming through the leaves. hemans. . you shall dwell in some bright little isle of your own, in a blue summer ocean far off and alone, where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers, and the bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers. moore. . you scarce upon the borders enter, before you're at the very centre. though small your farm, it has a house full large to entertain a mouse; but if it's enter'd by a rat, there is no room to bring a cat. round your garden is a walk no longer than a tailor's chalk; one salad makes a shift to squeeze up through a tuft you call your trees, and, once a year, a single rose peeps from the bud, but never blows. in vain then you'll expect its bloom, it cannot blow for want of room. in short, in all your boasted seat there's nothing but _yourself_ that's great. swift. . your _island_ lies nine leagues away; along its solitary shore of craggy rock, and sandy bay, no sound but ocean's roar, save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home, her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam. r. h. dana. . sweet sights, sweet sounds, all sights all sounds excelling; oh, 'tis a ravishing spot, form'd for a poet's dwelling! drake. . _a city_ where trade and joy in every _busy street_ mingling are heard, and in whose _crowded ports_ the rising masts an endless prospect yield. thomson. . a _valley_, from the river shore withdrawn, shall be your home--two quiet woods between, whose lofty verdure overlooks the lawn; and waters, to their resting-place serene, come freshening and reflecting all the scene. campbell. . please step in and visit roun' an' roun'; there's naught superfluous to gie pain or costly to be foun', yet a' is clean. allan ramsay--_gentle shepherd_. . a whitewash'd wall, a nicely sanded floor, a varnish'd clock that clicks behind the door, a chest contrived a double debt to pay, a bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; while broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, ranged on the chimney, glisten in a row. goldsmith--_deserted village_. . how beautiful it stands, behind its elm-trees' screen, with simple attic cornice crown'd, all graceful and serene! mrs. sigourney. . o'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, your thoughts as boundless and your soul as free, far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, survey your empire, and behold your _home_! byron. . a _pastoral scene_ of your own land, groves darkly green, neat farms, and pastures gay with golden flowers; brooks stealing over sand, or smooth-worn pebbles, murmuring light away;-- blue rye-fields, yielding to the gentle hand of the cool west wind; scented fields of hay, falling in purple bloom! percival. . a pleasant aspect shall your _parlor_ wear,-- pictures, and busts, and books, and flowers, and a light hearth where one may sit for hours, and feel the minutes in their rapid flight, yet never think to count them as they go; the mind, in converse sweet, beguiled so. mrs. a. m. wells. . a light commodious _chamber_ looking out to the hills, and where the shine of the great sun may enter. mary howitt. . it is a _chosen plot of fertile land_, emongst wide waves sett, like little nest, as if it had by nature's cunning hand bene choycely picked out from all the rest, and laid forth for ensample of the best. spenser. . a _mansion_, where _domestic love_ and truth breathe simple kindness to the heart; where white arm'd childhood twines the neck of age; where hospitable cares light up the hearth, cheering the lonely traveller on his way. mrs. gilman. . thine be a _cot beside the hill_: a beehive's hum shall sooth thine ear; a willowy brook that turns the mill with many a fall, shall linger near. rogers. . the dense city's roofs throng around thee, and the vertic' sun pours from those glowing tiles a fervid heat upon your shrinking nerves. mrs. sigourney. . a _lodge_ of ample size, but strange of structure and device; of such materials, as around the workman's hand has readiest found. scott. . among the jumbled heap of murky buildings. keats. . you will be blest as now you are with friends, and home, and all that in the exulting joy of love your own you fondly call; beloved and loving faces, that you've known so long and well, the dear familiar places where your childish footsteps fell, where you join'd with careless heart and free your playmates' blooming band, as happy still as now in this,--you'll _tread your native land_. mrs. osgood. . on the well-sloped banks arise trim clumps, some round and some oblong, of shrubs exotic; while, at respectful distance, rises up the red brick wall, with flues and chimney-tops and many a leafy crucifix adorn'd. the smooth expanse, well cropp'd, and daily, as the owner's chin, not one irregularity presents, not even one grassy tuft in which a bird may find a home and cheer the dull domain. grahame--_birds of scotland_. . the city's gloom, that falls where the same window fronts the same dull walls; to see new, weary idlers tread once more the mud or dust, which crowds have trod before, or the gay chariot loiter to await some fool you scorn, or envious flirt you hate. dr. brown--_bower of spring_. . a _lone dwelling_, built by whom, or how, none of the rustic island people know. the isle and house are thine.-- nature, with all her children, haunts the hill; the spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight, before thy gate.--be this thy home in life. shelley. . in a city vast and populous, whose thronging multitude sends forth a sound afar off heard, strong as the ocean flood; a strong, deep sound of many sounds, toil, pleasure, pain, delight, and traffic, myriad-wheel'd, whose din ceases not day and night. mary howitt. . a _simple home_, a plain well-order'd household, without show of wealth or fashion. percival. . all day within your dreary house the doors upon their hinge will creak, the blue-fly sing in the pane, the mouse behind the mouldering wainscot creep, or from the crevice peer about. tennyson. . _upon a green bank side_, skirting the smooth edge of a gentle river, whose waters seem unwillingly to glide, like parting friends, who linger ere they sever. drake. . where _streets_ are _stifling_, _bustling_, _noisy_, _dry_; hot are the pavements as an oven floor; dingy-red brick grows tiresome to the eye. mary howitt. . _refinement's chosen seat_, art's trophied dwelling, learning's green retreat. sprague. . i know the spot; the curtain'd windows half exclude the light, yet eager still to make their way, a thousand elfin sunbeams bright, glittering about the carpet play. but what attracts you chiefly there is _one_ who in a cushion'd rocking-chair doth sit and read. mrs. a. m. wells. . the wild wind sweeps across your low damp floors, and makes a weary noise and wailing moan; all night you hear the clap of broken doors, that on their rusty hinges grate and groan; and then old voices, calling from behind the worn and wormy wainscot, flapping in the wind. thomas miller. . in simple _western_ style, with all your chambers on the lower floor; in fact, of stories you will boast no more than simply one. 'tis at the river's side, and near it grows a noble sycamore; a velvet lawn of green, outspreading wide, slopes smoothly down, to meet the ever-rippling tide. mrs. dana. . it is a _home to die for_, as it stands through its vine foliage, sending forth a sound of mirthful childhood o'er the green repose and laughing sunshine of the pastures round. hemans. . gay apartments, where mimic life beneath the storied roof glows to the eye, and at the painter's touch a new creation glows along the walls. arthur murphy--_orphan of china_. . down by the hamlet's hawthorn-scented way, where round the cot's romantic glade are seen the blossom'd bean-field, and the sloping green. campbell. . a _lonesome lodge_, that stands so lowe in lonely glen. the little windowe dim and darke is hung with ivy, brier, and yewe; no shimmering sun here ever shone, no halesome breeze here ever blewe. no chair, no table may you spye, no cheareful hearth, no welcome bed, naught save a _rope_ with running noose, that dangling hangs up o'er your heade. percy's reliques--_heir of linne_. . the mountains, the mountains! amidst them is your home; to their pure and sparkling fountains impatiently you come; their bleak and towering summits invade the dark blue sky, but o'er their rudest ridges your fancy loves to fly. dr. s. h. dickson. . a lowly roof; thou know'st it well, and yet 'twill seem more low than it was wont to seem, for thou wilt be a visitant of loftier domes and halls, meet for the feet of princes. mrs. sigourney. . your house a _cottage more_ than _palace_, and will fitting be for all your use, not luxury. your garden painted o'er with nature's hand, not art's, will pleasures yield horace might envy in his sabine field. cowley. . you'll think yourself superbly off, though rather cramp'd in bed, if your garret keep the winter rain from dropping on your head. albert pike. . a snug thack house; before the door a green, hens on the midding, ducks in pools are seen. on this side stands a barn, on that a byre, a peat-stack joins, an' forms a rural square. the house is yours,--there shall we see you lean and to your turfy seat invite a frien'. allan ramsay--_gentle shepherd_. . it is a quiet picture of delight, your humble cottage, hiding from the sun in the thick woods. we see it not till then, when at its porch. rudely but neatly wrought, four columns make its entrance; slender shafts, the rough bark yet upon them, as they came from the old forest---- ----prolific vines have wreath'd them well, and half obscured the rinds unpromising that wrap them. crowding leaves of glistening green, and clustering bright flowers of purple, in whose cups throughout the day the humming-bird wantons boldly, wave around and woo the gentle eye and delicate touch. this is the dwelling, and 'twill be to thee quiet's especial temple. w. g. simms. . that dear old home! something of old ancestral pride it keeps, though fallen from its early power and vastness! the sunlight seems to thy eyes brighter there than wheresoever else. fanny kemble. . in a vale with dwellings strown, one is standing all alone; white it rises mid the leaves, woodbines clamber o'er its eaves, and the honeysuckle falls pendant on its silent walls. 'tis a cottage small and fair as a cloud in summer air. park benjamin. what is your destiny? you unconcern'd and calm, can meet your coming destiny, in all its charming, or its frightful shapes. dr. watts. i have an ear that craves for every thing, that hath the smallest sign or omen in it. joanna baillie. let me deem that some unknown influence, some sweet oracle, communicates between us though unseen, in absence, and attracts us to each other. byron. what is your destiny? . ye'll draw a bonny silken purse; ye'll ca' your coach, ye'll ca' your horse. burns. . of the present much is bright, and in the coming years i see a brilliant and a cheering light, which burns before thee constantly. w. d. gallagher. . a better cellar nowhere can be found; the pantry never is without baked meat, and fish and flesh, so plenteous and complete: it snows within your house of meat and drink, of all the dainties that a man can think. chaucer. . gentleman.--thine never was a woman's dower of tenderness and love! thou who canst chain the eagle's power, canst never tame the dove. e. c. embury. . lady.--let me gaze for a moment, that ere i die i may read thee, lady, a prophecy. that brow may beam in glory awhile, that cheek may bloom, and that lip may smile, but clouds shall darken that brow of snow, and sorrow blight thy bosom's glow. miss l. davidson. . the best establishment in the city, coaches and horses, hounds and liveried servants. mary howitt. . thou seest only what is fair, thou sippest only what is sweet; thou wilt mock at fate and care, leave the chaff, and take the wheat. r. w. emerson. . ye build, ye build, but ye enter not in! mrs. sigourney. . i'll warrant thee from drowning, though thy ship were no stronger than a nut-shell. _tempest._ . the sea of ambition is tempest-toss'd, and thy hopes may vanish like foam; but when sails are shiver'd and rudder lost, then look to the light of _home_! mrs. hale. . your life's a summer even, whose sun of light, though set amidst the clouds of heaven, leaves streams of brightness yet. bowring. . in a narrow sphere, the little circle of domestic love, you will be known and loved; the world beyond is not for you. southey. . thou dwell'st on sorrow's high and barren place, but round about the mount an angel-guard-- chariots of fire, horses of fire--encamp, to keep thee safe for heaven! mrs. ellet. . to cheer with sweet repast the fainting guest, to lull the weary on the couch of rest, to warm the traveller, numb'd with winter cold, the young to cherish, to support the old, the sad to shelter, and the lost direct-- these are your cares, and this your glorious task; can heaven a nobler give, or mortals ask? sir william jones. . the sordid cares in which you dwell shrink and consume your heart. bryant. . a wide future is before you; your heart will beat for fame, and you will learn to breathe with love the music of a name, writ on the tablets of that heart in characters of flame. j. o. sargent. . to grow in the world's approving eyes, in friendship's smile, and home's caress, collecting all the heart's sweet ties into one knot of happiness. moore. . sorely harass'd, and tired at last with fortune's vain delusions, o, you'll drop your schemes like idle dreams, and come to this conclusion, o,-- the past was bad, the future hid, the good and ill untried, o, but the present hour is in your power, and so you will enjoy it, o. burns. . you will be blest exceedingly; your store grow daily, weekly, more and more, and peace so multiply around, your very hearth seem holy ground. mary howitt. . with steady aim your fortune chase, keen hope let every sinew brace, through fair, through foul, urge on your race, and seize the prey; then cannie, in some cozie place, thou'lt close life's day. burns. . in your dreams a form you'll view, that thinks on you and loves you too; you start, and when the vision's flown you'll weep that you are all alone. h. k. white. . quiet by day, sound sleep by night, study and ease together mix'd, sweet recreation, and innocence which most doth please, with meditation. pope. . gentleman.--a gentle lover shalt thou be, sitting at thy loved one's side; she giving her whole soul to thee, without a thought or wish of pride, and she shall be thy cherish'd bride. j. r. lowell. . lady.--be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. shakspeare. . every day a little life, a blank to be inscribed with gentle deeds, such as in after time console, rejoice, whene'er you turn the leaf to read them. rogers. . through many a clime 'tis yours to go, with many a retrospection cursed; and all your solace is to know, whate'er betide, you've known the worst. byron. . rouse to some high and holy work of love, and thou an angel's happiness shalt know, shalt bless the earth while in the world above; the good begun by thee shall onward flow, in many a branching stream, and wider flow. carlos wilcox. . you shall go down as men have ever done, and tread the pathway worn by common tramp. a. c. coxe. . friendship shall still thy evening feasts adorn, and blooming peace shall ever bless thy morn succeeding years their happy race still run, and age unheeded by delight come on. prior. . gentleman.--she's fair and fause that caused your smart, you will lo'e her mickle and lang; she will break her vow, she will break your heart, and ye may e'en go hang. burns. . lady.--gay hope is yours by fancy led, less pleasing when possess'd, the tear forgot as soon as shed, the sunshine of the breast. gray. . single as a stray glove. fanny kemble. . gentleman.--you will not waste your spring of youth in idle dalliance. you will plant rich seeds to blossom in your manhood, and bear fruit when you are old. hillhouse. . lady.--to shrine within your heart's core one dear image, to think of it all day, to dream all night. mary howitt. . the duties of a wedded life hath heaven ordain'd for thee. southey. . to love, love fondly, truly, fervently, and pine when you have told your love, and sue in vain. wordsworth. . hope, and health, and "learned leisure," friends, books, thy thoughts. barry cornwall. . toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing; each morn will see some task begun, each evening see it close; something attempted, something done, will earn a night's repose. longfellow. . you will go east, you will go west, to seek for what you will not find,-- a heart at peace with its own thoughts, a quiet and contented mind. you will seek high, you will seek low, but your search will be in vain. landon. . a course of days composing happy months, and they as happy years; the present still so like the past, and both so firm a pledge or a congenial future, that the wheels of pleasure move without the aid of hope. wordsworth. . you will tread the path of fame, and barter peace to win a name. s. g. goodrich. . each hour, each minute of your life shall be a golden holiday; and if a cloud o'ercast thee, 'twill be light as gossamer. g. coleman. . a little, and content; the faithful friend, and cheerful night, the social scene of dear delight, the conscience pure, the temper gay, the musing eve and busy day. thomas warton. . live where your father lived, die where he dies; live happy, die happy. pollok. . you'll use up life in anxious cares, to lay up hoards for future years. gay. . you think of all the bubbles men are chasing; they dream them worlds, because they're bright and fair; you sit down with your book, your fireside facing, and laugh to think of the wealth to which you are heir. cranch. . impell'd with steps unceasing to pursue some fleeting good that mocks thee with the view. goldsmith. . you'll have a clear and competent estate, that you may live genteelly, but not great; as much as you can moderately spend, a little more, sometimes, to oblige a friend. _pomfret's choice._ . rich, hated; wise, suspected; scorn'd if poor; great, feared; fair, tempted; high, still envied more. sir h. wotton. . gentleman.-- you love a blooming lady, a conspicuous flower, admired for beauty, for her sweetness praised, whom you have sensibility to love, ambition to attempt, and skill to win. wordsworth. . lady.--i fain would give to thee the loveliest things, for lovely things belong to thee of right. j. r. lowell. . oh, you will still enjoy the cheerful day, till many years unheeded by have roll'd; pleased in your age to trifle life away, and tell how much you loved ere you grew old. hammond--_love elegies_. . endless labor all along, endless labor to do wrong. dr. johnson. . a fearful sign stands in thy house of life, an enemy;----a fiend lurks close behind the radiance of thy planet:--oh, be warn'd! coleridge. . thy god, in the darkest of days, will be greenness, and beauty, and strength to thee. barton. . you were not meant to struggle from your birth, to skulk and creep, and in mean pathways range; act with stern truth, large faith, and loving will, up and be doing. j. r. lowell. . gentleman.--to die 'midst flame and smoke, and shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, and death-shots falling thick and fast as lightning from the mountain cloud. halleck. . lady.-- death shall come gently, to one of delicate mould like thee, as light winds wandering through groves of bloom detach the delicate blossom from the tree. bryant. . i know that pleasure's hand will throw her silken nets about thee, i know how lonesome friends will find the long, long days without thee; but in thy _letters_ there'll be joy, the reading, the replying; they'll kiss each word that's traced by thee, upon thy truth relying. bayley. . your life shall be as it has been, a sweet variety of joys. r. h. wilde. . neither poverty nor riches, but godliness so gainful with content. no painted pomp nor glory that bewitches; a blameless life is your best monument, and such a life that soars a-- bove the sky, well pleased to live, but better pleased to die. hugh peters. . a life you'll lead which hath no present time, but is made up entirely of to-morrows. joanna baillie. . gentleman.--i see lord mayor written on your forehead. massinger. . lady.--a marriage in may weather. leigh hunt--_rimini_. . you'll have never a penny left in your purse, never a penny but three; and one is brass, and another is lead, and another is white money. percy's reliques--_heir of linne_. . you will double your life's fading space, for he that runs it well, runs twice his race; and in this true delight, these unbought sports, this happy state, you will not fear, nor wish your fate; but boldly say each night, "to-morrow let my sun his beams display, "or in clouds hide them; _i have lived to-day_." cowley. . yet haply there will come a weary day, when, over-task'd at length, both love and hope beneath the weight give way. then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength, stands the mute sister patience, nothing loth, and both supporting, does the work of both. coleridge. transcriber's note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. the oe ligature (one occurrence) has been replaced by 'oe'. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. many missing periods were added. the number . has been inserted at the start of each section (covered by an illustrated drop cap in the original book.) except for those changes noted below, misspellings by the author, misquotations, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. pg . 'macauly' replaced by 'macaulay'. pg . note: author george lillo is not listed in 'catalogue of authors' at the front of the book.) pg . 'macauley' replaced by 'macaulay'. transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. italic text is denoted by _underscores_. bright ideas for entertaining two hundred forms of amusement or entertainment for social gatherings of all kinds: large or small parties, clubs, sociables, church entertainments, etc.; with special suggestions for birthdays, wedding anniversaries, hallowe'en, all fools' day, christmas day, new year's eve, and other holidays. by mrs. herbert b. linscott philadelphia george w. jacobs & co. publishers copyright, , by mrs. herbert b. linscott published july, thirty articles appearing in this book have been taken from "the ladies' home journal," to which the author gratefully acknowledges permission to reprint them. bright ideas for entertaining acting proverbs in this game the company may be divided into actors and spectators. the actors are each given a proverb, which they are to act alone in pantomime. the first player may come into the room where the spectators are waiting, with a sprinkler in one hand and a cup in the other. he begins sprinkling the flowers, then he pours water over them, acting the proverb, "it never rains but it pours." the second actor also brings a cup of water. he repeatedly attempts to drink from the cup, which keeps slipping from his fingers as he brings it near his mouth. "there's many a slip between the cup and the lip." the third brings in a purse containing brass buttons, which he takes out and counts over deliberately. then he looks at them closely, and with seeming distrust, finally flinging them from him in a rage. "all is not gold that glitters." the fourth actor appears with a stone, which he rolls all about the room. then he examines it critically and shakes his head dubiously. "a rolling stone gathers no moss." the next actor brings in a bundle of hay and tosses it about with his fork, which he carries for the purpose, looking up frequently at an imaginary sky. "make hay while the sun shines." this game is more interesting if spectators are furnished with slips of paper and pencils, that they may write down their guessing of each proverb when the actor passes from the room, to be followed by another. advertisement items cut out pictures from advertisements; for instance, from "quaker oats," cut out the quaker, but nothing that will tell what it represents. have a number of them and paste on plain white paper. number each ad, and keep a "key" to them yourself. furnish paper and pencil to each guest and have them guess what each picture represents. the one who guesses the most receives a prize. also request every one to write an advertisement on some article. still another form of the game is for each person to choose his theme for an advertisement, and write it without naming the article. he will read his advertisement, and the company must guess what article he is advertising. a variation of this game is to distribute papers, allowing a few minutes for examining them, and then let each player describe some article as nearly as possible in the language of its printed advertisement, with, of course, such changes as will serve to divert the company, and give the rest an opportunity to guess what advertisement he has been reading. of course the article should not be named in the course of the description. all about kate this game will furnish amusement at an evening entertainment, but may also be played after a ladies' luncheon. the questions, on sheets of paper with spaces allowed for the answers, are distributed, and fifteen minutes given for answering them. each answer is composed of one word ending with the letters c-a-t-e; for instance: kate is a good pleader (advo-cate). when fifteen minutes have elapsed each player signs her name and passes her paper to the person on her right. the answers are then read, and the player having the most correct answers wins a prize. questions-- . kate is a good pleader. . kate judges judicially. . kate is apt to use other people's money wrongfully. . kate is very frail. . kate sometimes gets out of joint. . kate makes everything double. . kate loves to teach. . kate takes out ink spots. . kate helps people out of difficulties. . kate is good at constructing. . kate gives a pledge of security. . kate sometimes invokes evil. . kate is perplexing; hard to understand. . kate often prays earnestly. . kate makes wheels run easily. . kate uses her teeth. . kate is not always truthful. . kate can foretell events. . kate makes an affirmative. . kate gets smothered. . kate points out clearly. . kate makes business combinations. . kate goes into the country. . kate will now move out. . advocate. . adjudicate. . adjudicate. . defalcate. . delicate. . dislocate. . duplicate. . educate. . eradicate. . extricate. . fabricate. . hypothecate. . imprecate. . intricate. . supplicate. . lubricate. . masticate. . prevaricate. . prognosticate. . predicate. . suffocate. . indicate. . syndicate. . rusticate. . vacate. apple sociable cards are sent out with the following: _come to the apple social and see who gets the_ _b--a--p_ _l--a--p_ _n--a--p_ _social given under the auspices of the east end connett y. w. c. t. u., monday evening, sept. , _ have cards printed with a letter on each one, forming the names of various apples; for instance, b-a-l-d-w-i-n and g-r-e-e-n-i-n-g. have as many letters of one color made as there are letters in the name of the apple, and have each group of letters a separate color. these are passed to the guests, after which each one proceeds to find the rest of the letters colored like the one he holds, and when the group is complete, the holders of the letters proceed to spell out the name of their apple. each group then composes an original poem on its apple. the poems are read to the audience, then the prize of b--a--p (big apple pie) is given to the best poem, l--a--p (little apple pie) to the poorest, and n--a--p (no apple pie) to the group who composes no poem. all kinds of apples are served for refreshments. april fool dinner the dinner i shall serve will be plain and substantial, but it may be as elaborate as one chooses. following is the menu: vegetable soup pickles crackers roast beef mashed potatoes brown gravy celery stewed peas tomatoes bread butter tea cheese jelly cream pie. when the dinner is all ready to serve the fun will begin. imagine the surprise of the guests when they sit down to the table, to find the soup served in teacups, the pickles shining forth from the sugar-bowl and the crackers in a covered vegetable dish. the roast beef will be cut in slices and arranged on a silver cake dish, the mashed potatoes in a dainty glass berry dish, and the gravy in small individual sauce dishes. the stewed peas will be served from the water-pitcher in glass tumblers, the celery on the bread-plate, bread in the salad bowl, butter on the celery tray, and the tea in soup bowls. the jelly will be placed on the largest meat platter and served with the carving-knife, the cheese in the gravy dish, and finally the pie on large dinner plates. the sugar will appear in the cracker jar together with the gravy-ladle, and the cream in the china teapot. the salt will be found in the mustard cup, the pepper alone remaining as it should be. water must necessarily be served at the dinner, but even this will not be in the usual manner. i shall serve it in the after dinner coffee cups. the soup must be eaten with teaspoons, as the larger ones will be reserved for the tea. april fool party invitations may be copied after a dance card of a "comus" ball at new orleans, which represents a large-sized gilt folly bell with ribbons attached. on arriving, each guest is given a favor, which may serve also as a score marker. these are follies' heads, capped and ruffled and fastened to a stick, which has ribbons wrapped around it. the colors of these ribbons, not more than two being alike, determine partners. an attached tiny square of pasteboard, bearing a painted number, directs to the tables. instead of playing one game only, a variety of games are introduced. at the head, or "hearts," table is a large-sized tally-ho horn, tied with a profusion of motley colors. at the conclusion of the game, the defeated ones blow the horn and the winners at all the tables are given little brass bells to tie upon the folly sticks or baubles. the prizes, both head and booby, are fools' caps of white crepe paper with huge red rosettes. the refreshments should be as deceiving as possible. one hostess at an april first dinner went so far as to serve the entire course backwards, beginning with ice cream and ending with soup. or a very suitable menu may be served in strange and unusual guise: potato salad arranged as cream puffs; english walnut shells as receptacles for olives; sandwiches as slices of cake with nut filling; ice cream as croquettes, cone-shaped and plentifully sprinkled with toasted cake-crumbs; cake as sandwiches, with ice cream between and tied with ribbon; coffee served in bouillon cups; bonbons served in exact size artificial fruit. among the bona-fide dainties may be "april fool" bonbons--"chocolate creams" stuffed with cotton, button-moulds covered with chocolate, and round, yellow pill-boxes filled with flour, iced to represent small cakes. after the refreshments the hostess may say that she has a picture to show which she has just received and which has given her much pleasure. a curtain is hung before it, which, when withdrawn with grave ceremony, reveals a mirror reflecting the expectant faces of the guests, while on its surface, written with soap, are the words "april fool!" authors' contest questions to be answered by giving in each case the name of a well-known author: . a name that means such fiery things, you can't describe their pains and stings. (burns.) . what a rough man said to his son, when he wished him to eat properly. (chaucer.) . pilgrims and flatterers have knelt low to kiss him. (pope.) . makes and mends for first-class customers. (taylor.) . represents the dwellings of civilized men. (holmes.) . is worn on the head. (hood.) . a chain of hills covering a dark treasure. (coleridge.) . a brighter and smarter than the other. (whittier.) . a worker in precious metals. (goldsmith.) . a vital part of the body. (hart.) . a disagreeable fellow to have on one's foot. (bunyan.) . meat, what are you doing in the oven? (browning.) authors' guessing game . when we leave here we go to seek our what? (author of "elsie venner.") . what dies only with life? (author of "phroso.") . what does a maid's heart crave? (author of "handy andy.") . what does an angry person often raise? (author of "the christian.") . what should all literary people do? (author of "put yourself in his place.") . if a young man would win, what must he do? (author of "wandering jew.") . how do we dislike to grow? (authors of "silence of dean maitland" and "dawn.") . what would we prefer to be? (authors of "book of golden deeds," "man without a country," and "under the greenwood tree.") . what is a suitable adjective for the national library building? (author of "the heavenly twins.") . what would we consider the person who answers correctly all these questions? (author of "from post to finish.") the answers to the above questions are: . oliver wendell holmes. (homes.) . anthony hope. (hope.) . samuel lover. (lover.) . hall caine. (cain.) . charles reade. (read.) . eugene sue. (sue.) . maxwell grey and rider haggard. (gray and haggard.) . charlotte yonge, e. e. hale, thomas hardy. (young, hale and hardy.) . sarah grande. (grand.) . hawley smart. (smart.) give the most successful contestant a nicely bound copy of the latest popular book, and the least successful one a gaily colored copy of a child's primer, or a gaudy poster picture. authors' verbal game this is an interesting and instructive game. the players seat themselves so as to form a ring. an umpire and a score-keeper are appointed, and each player in turn rises and announces the name of a well-known book. the one who first calls out the name of the author of the book scores a point; the one who has the largest score when the game ceases is the victor, and may be given a prize. this game may be varied by the naming of well-known authors, leaving the titles of books, by these authors, to be supplied. and it may be played in yet another way. give each player a pencil and paper, and instead of calling aloud the title of a book, as each author is announced, ask the players to write on a slip of paper the name of the author, the title of a book by that author, and the name of a character in the book. thus: . oliver goldsmith--"she stoops to conquer," miss hardcastle. . harriet beecher stowe--"uncle tom's cabin," miss ophelia. . william shakespeare--"romeo and juliet," tybalt. if the game be played in this way the scores will probably be close. "b" sociable be sure to come to the home of brother linscott next monday eve, because we will insure you a good time by the enjoyment of our "b" social. busy bees. busy bees' bill o' fare: bread. baked beans. beef. baked potatoes. boiled pudding. boston's overthrow. butter. beets. batter cake. bologna. bananas. brown bread. this can be changed to suit any other letter and the invitations may be worded as desired. have tiny boxes, barrels, bags, and baskets filled with candy, fruit, or nuts, for souvenirs. if it is desired to make money, a price may be placed upon each article of food, and the souvenirs may be offered for sale. barn party _miss gertrude s. derr requests the pleasure of your company at a barn party, monday evening, august , , on water road, shortsville, new york_ arranging for the party to insure the success of such a party, a moonlight night should be selected. the barn chosen should be large, the floor space ample, and the decorations lavish. they may consist of green boughs, vines and goldenrod, and a number of american flags. the two large opposite doors should be thrown wide open for free circulation of air. the floor should then be cleared, swept and washed. high up over one door a large flag may be draped, and wires stretched across from beam to beam, away from direct draughts, upon which japanese lanterns may be hung, care being taken that none are allowed to come into contact with the bunting in case of one's taking fire. chairs should also be provided, and a rope stretched across one side of the open space, on the farther side of which place a table. on this table place a large bowl of soapsuds, into which a spoonful of glycerine has been put, and by its side place half as many pipes as there are to be guests. prepare half as many cards also as there are to be guests, and write across the full length of each card the name of an agricultural implement, as hay-rake, hay-cutter, pitchfork, hoe, spade, scythe, sickle, mower, plow, reaper, binder, seeder. on the reverse side each card should be numbered at the top, and a question written concerning the implement named on it; besides this the number and another query should be written upon the lower half. questions like the following will answer: no. . what is the true mission of a harrow? no. . can you tell a harrowing tale? no. . what is a hoe used for? no. . what is a good receipt for hoe cake? the cards should then be cut in halves, and the matching of them will determine partners for the bubble blowing contest. the answering of the questions will also afford much amusement throughout the evening. baseball party a novel party was recently given by a mother to celebrate the sixteenth birthday of her only son. she had been rather envious of her friends in their happiness of planning many luncheons and other pretty affairs for their girls, consequently she entered heart and soul into this party for her boy, sparing neither expense nor trouble to make it a success. it was announced as "a baseball party," and by enlisting the services of a niece, who was very enthusiastic over the national game, she was able to carry out the idea. eight of her son's friends were invited, who, with the boy himself, made the required "nine." luncheon was first served. before going into the dining-room each boy was assigned a place on the "team," and found his place at the table accordingly. in place of name-cards were tiny "fans" bearing the words "catcher," "pitcher," etc., and, of course, each guest knew just where to sit. the menu-cards were booklets with the words "official score" written on the covers. the menu consisted of nine courses, or "innings," as they were more appropriately termed. it was written in language unintelligible to the average feminine mind, but the boys guessed what many of the viands were amid much merriment. the reading of the menu, and the conjectures as to what the courses would be, broke up any stiffness that might have resulted from nine boys lunching together. it read as follows--only in the original the interpretations were, of course, left out: first inning first strike (oyster cocktail) second inning where the losing team lands (soup) third inning caught on the fly (small trout with diamonds of crisp toast) fourth inning a sacrifice (lamb chops with potato balls) fifth inning a "fowl ball" (chicken croquettes with french peas) sixth inning the umpire when we lose (lobster salad with cheese straws) seventh inning a fine diamond (ice cream in diamond-shaped slices. cakes) eighth inning necessary for good (preserved ginger with wafers and coffee) playing ninth inning everybody scores (the passing of favors) the favors consisted of a ticket for a ball game to be played on the local grounds that afternoon for each boy, and a tin horn with which to "root," as the boys expressed it. as soon as the luncheon was finished the nine boys departed in great glee for the ball grounds, relieving the hostess of the responsibility of further entertaining them. bean bags make twelve or fifteen bags, six inches square, of bed-ticking, and loosely fill them with beans which have been washed and dried to remove all dust. appoint two leaders, who choose sides, arranging the sides in lines facing each other, with a small table at each end of each line. the bean bags being equally divided, each leader deposits his share upon the table nearest him. then, at a given signal, seizing one bag at a time with one hand, with the other he starts it down the line, each player passing it to the next until all the bags reach the last, who drops them upon the table at his end of the line. when all the bags have reached this table, the last player, seizing each in turn, sends them back up the line to the leader, who drops them upon his table. whichever side first succeeds in passing all the bags down the line and back, wins the round. it takes five rounds to make a game, so that three out of five must be successful for the winning side. bean sociable _have you ever "bean" to a "bean" sociable? if not come to the one the connett y. w. c. t. u. are having monday evening, september st. if you have never "bean" to one you will enjoy the_ _"bean porridge hot, bean porridge cold, bean porridge in the pot, nine days old."_ supper should consist of baked beans, cold and hot, bean porridge or soup, brown bread and butter, and pickles, tea and gingerbread. bean bags to go with this sociable. berry guessing contest . what berry is red when it's green? blackberry. . " " " used for making ladies' dresses? mulberry. . " " " found on the grass? dewberry. . " " " a dunce? gooseberry. . " " " irritating? raspberry. . " " " used for bedding cattle? strawberry. . " " " " " celebrating a great festival? holly berry. . " " should be respected for its age? elderberry. . " " is melancholy? blueberry. . " " " named for a month? juneberry. . " " " used in sewing? thimbleberry. . " " " named for a bird? pigeonberry. bible contest the game of bible contest cards can be played very profitably and is very instructive. it can be found in any book store in large cities or can be had of the united society of christian endeavor, boston, mass. the cost is very little. or the cards may be written out as follows: . give the first and last words of the bible. . whose three daughters were the fairest in all the land? . how old was methuselah when he died? . who was called "a ready scribe in the law of moses"? . give the names of the three persons who were put in the fiery furnace. . who was the author of the expression, "what hath god wrought?" . with how many men did gideon conquer the midianites? . who was moses' brother? . who went down into a pit on a snowy day and slew a lion? . who said "the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved"? . who was the mother of samuel? . who commanded the gates of jerusalem to be closed on the sabbath? . whose flock was moses tending when he saw the burning bush? . what city was saved from famine by lepers? . who waxed fat and kicked? name. no. no. have the cards distributed; then on a given signal have the answers written out; as fast as finished have them handed in to be examined by the committee who afterward returns them. the first blank for number is for the order in which the cards are handed in, and the second for the order of correctness of the answers. bible evening here is a well-known alphabet of scripture proper names, which may be utilized at a social by ranking the members on two sides, and reading these lines one at a time, in the same way that a spelling-bee is carried on: a was a monarch who reigned in the east (esth. : ). b was a chaldee who made a great feast (dan. : - ). c was veracious, when others told lies (num. : - ). d was a woman, heroic and wise (judg. : - ). e was a refuge, where david spared saul ( sam. : - ). f was a roman, accuser of paul (acts : ). g was a garden, a favorite resort (john : , ; matt. : ). h was a city where david held court ( sam. : ). i was a mocker, a very bad boy (gen. : ). j was a city, preferred as a joy (ps. : ). k was a father, whose son was quite tall ( sam. : , ). l was a proud one, who had a great fall (isa. : ). m was a nephew, whose uncle was good (col. : ; acts : ). n was a city, long hid where it stood (zeph. : ). o was a servant, acknowledged a brother (philem. ). p was a christian greeting another ( tim. : , ). r was a damsel who knew a man's voice (acts : , ). s was a sovereign who made a bad choice ( kings : - ). t was a seaport, where preaching was long (acts : , ). u was a teamster, struck dead for his wrong ( sam. : ). v was a cast-off, and never restored (esth. : ). z was a ruin with sorrow deplored (ps. : ). bible names choose sides as in a spelling match, and let the leader of the first side give the first syllable of the name of some bible character. the leader of the opposite side will then complete the name, if he can. failing this, his side loses a member, selected by the leader of the opposite side. and so the contest goes on down the line, first one side and then the other proposing the first syllable of some name. bible readings a good way to promote study of the bible is a "bible oratorical contest," in which four or five contestants recite, or give as readings, selections from the bible. if well done, it will prove most entertaining, and many people will go home surprised that the bible is such an interesting book. bird carnival the invitations to the carnival had various kinds of birds painted upon them, and each guest was requested to come representing the kind of bird designated on his or her invitation. there were two invitations of each kind, one sent to a lady and one to a gentleman, that there might be a "pair" of each variety of bird. as the guests arrived, each was labeled with the name of the bird he or she represented, and in this way it was easy for them to find their "mates" for refreshments. the house was profusely trimmed with flowers, vines, and leaves (many of them artificial, borrowed from a near-by store); every available space was covered, the banisters, the mantel posts, the door- and window-frames, the archways, etc., and even the walls of the dining-room were hung with the trailing vines, so that the place looked like a veritable woodland dell. all the stuffed birds that could be secured were perched here and there among the vines and branches, some on nests with their mates beside them; a large owl was placed high in one corner, and in a cozy nook in another corner was the nest of a meadow lark, with father and mother birds teaching their young ones to fly. besides this canaries in cages were distributed throughout the house, lending their music to the general effect. bird eggs of every description were also used to help decorate. in the centre of the dining table a nest was arranged, containing a mother bird and her little ones, while suspended from the gas jet by gayly colored ribbons and reaching almost to the nest, were many prettily decorated egg shells, the contents having been "blown" from them by means of small holes made in each end. twenty-five rhymes about birds were pinned about the rooms, the guests being required to answer them. following are given the rhymes and their answers. the hostess kept the "key" and read the correct list at the close of the contest, when a canary bird in a cage was given as first prize and a stuffed bird as second to the most successful contestants. at the close of the contest, the roll was called and each "bird" present responded by an appropriate quotation, these having been previously distributed by the hostess. bird pie after refreshments were served, an enormous "bird pie" was placed upon the table and each guest was given a slice. this pie was made of pie crust, and was filled with tiny trifles wrapped in tissue paper, most of them representing birds, eggs, nests, etc. on the top of the pie twenty-four little birds cut out of black paper were perched by means of pins stuck through their feet. also pinned to the pie was this verse: when this pie is opened the birds begin to sing? that is where you all are fooled; we won't do such a thing! bird guessing contest . a flash of sky on wing.--(_bluebird._) . oh, shall i call thee bird, or but a wandering voice? thy note from household clocks is heard, and children's ears rejoice.--(_cuckoo._) . king of the water, as the air, he dives and finds his prey.--(_kingfisher._) . thy plaintive cry announces punishment, and warns the luckless boy for whom 'tis sent. --(_whippoorwill._) . you introduce yourself throughout your song, and tell the world your brief, old-fashioned name.--(_phoebe._) . "bob white!" you call along the marshy coast. speak not so loud or you will be on toast.--(_quail._) . cooing 'neath barn rafters, pouting, sometimes, too, rippling like child laughter all the winter through.--(_pigeon._) . an english emigrant, bird of the street, so common that some like thee not at all. yet in the holy bible we are told the father careth if but one should fall.--(_sparrow._) . red-breasted harbinger of spring we wait in hope to hear thee sing.--(_robin._) . yellow captive of the cage, silver notes thou giv'st as wage.--(_canary._) . a flash of white upon the sea, and yet 'tis not a sail. a "little brother of the air" hath dared to ride the gale.--(_sea-gull._) . "jenny" named in children's books, bright in spirit, dull in looks; with cock robin as thy mate, nothing else i'll have to state.--(_wren._) . in blue grass regions is thy splendor seen, thou flash of flame. august thy name, red-coated pontiff of the green.--(_kentucky cardinal._) . black robber of the corn-fields, oh, beware! the farmer can do other things than scare.--(_crow._) . we know how long ago you frightened mr. poe-- black-coated prophet of adversity.--(_raven._) . named for the animal the dairies need, yet, in thy nature, quite a different breed.--(_cowbird._) . black-winged in crimson roses thou art dressed, fine feathers make fine birds, it is confessed; and none more fine than thou, oh, brilliant beauty of the bough!--(_scarlet tanager._) . the melody is trickling from thy beak, and silver whistlings help thy voice to speak. oh, singer, famed by thousands, clear the strain which ripples from thy pulsing throat like rain.--(_nightingale._) . bird of the night, thy round eyes are aglow with all the learning which the sages know.--(_owl._) . the mother hen must watch her little brood lest thou come down and bear them off for food, and use them for a dinner, oh, prowling sinner.--(_hawk._) . you imitate the foe which does you wrong, and call "meouw," instead of chanting song.--(_catbird._) . your coat is like the leaden sky which drops the feathery snow, and when that leaves us, by and by, still further north you go.--(_snowbird._) . a symbol of the perfect love shed from above.--(_dove._) . i supplicate at heaven's gate and rest on wing where angels sing.--(_lark._) . i'm always offered cracker, and though i like it well i think some other viands would answer just as well.--(_parrot._) birthday party _we herewith extend a most kind invitation to you and your friends or any relation to come to a party. this little silk sack is intended to furnish a good place to pack as many pennies as you are years old. we promise the secret shall never be told. if methuselah's age would be the right sum of the years to which you already have come, if objections to exposing your age should arise, one hundred would be a splendid disguise. a musical program of very rare merit will be given to those who will just come and hear it. we'll give you good cheer for the weak inner man and a gallery of pictures unique to well scan; we'll meet young and old with greetings most hearty as you come, one and all, to your own birthday party._ these invitations can be given and sent out beforehand, each accompanied by a tiny silk bag to hold the money. prepare a nice musical treat and something good to eat. have each member of the society giving the entertainment bring a picture of himself when a baby or small child, and have a picture gallery. do not forget to be very social and make every one feel that he is welcome, not only for the money he brings, but for himself also. bishop's riddle a most eccentric yet interesting man was bishop brooks of brookville; although not a large or strong man, wherever he went, night or day, he was always either accompanied by or carrying: two playful animals--calves. a number of small animals of a less tame breed--hares (hairs). a member of the deer family--hart (heart). a number of whips without handles--lashes (eyelashes). some weapons of warfare--arms. the steps of a hotel--inn steps (insteps). the house of representatives when a vote is taken--ayes and noes (eyes and nose). some spanish grandees to wait upon him--ten dons (tendons). two places of worship--temples. two scholars--pupils. what napoleon wished to leave his son--crown. two coverings of kettles--lids (eyelids). two musical instruments--drums. two established measures--feet and hands. two coverings for the head--caps (kneecaps). several articles that a carpenter cannot do without--nails. a couple of fish--soles. a number of shell-fish--mussels (muscles). two lofty trees--palms. two kinds of flowers--tulips and iris. box party a box party can be made very enjoyable if every one enters into the contest. each lady should pack a box with lunch for two and at the party the boxes can be auctioneered off to the highest bidder. or, if there is any objection to that, the ladies' names can be placed on slips of paper and the papers put into a hat and passed to the gentlemen; the slip each draws contains the name of the one with whom he is to eat refreshments. if this party is to make money for some society the wisest way will be to sell the boxes. the same plan may also be followed for a sunday-school or other picnic. cake sale probably the description of a cake sale that was held for the benefit of a library fund may not come amiss to show just how attractive and successful such an affair can be made. the principal feature of this sale was the cake contest--a game, with cake prizes. this game was devised to take the place of raffling, which was voted out of date. it was played by groups of ten, who on paying a fee were given printed lists of questions to be answered. each list had to be signed with the player's name and put in the "post-office" by a certain time in the evening, and later the names of the prize-winners in each group were announced. to promote sociability and fun, a lady's and a gentleman's first prize, and a lady's and a gentleman's booby were given in each group. the prizes were cakes, iced and fancifully decorated with colored candies, and each cake was put on a wooden plate, covered with a frill of crepe paper. the boobies were ginger and sugar horsecakes. below is the list of questions and answers used in the contest, which may be lengthened or shortened at will: which cake did the society woman buy? reception. the schoolgirl? composition. the grocer? sugar. the artist? exhibition. the farmer? harvest. the mean man? sponge. the tramp? loaf. the minister? scripture. the milliner? feather. the maiden aunt? tea. the dairyman? cream. the champion? cup. the pretty girls? ribbon. the jockey? horse. the shoemaker? the last. the sculptor? marble. the small boys? snowballs. the gossip? spice. the bryan man? silver. the young man for his sweetheart? angel. the fond mamma for her daughter? wedding. the candidate for office? election. the politician? plum. then there were cakes for sale, whole or cut. small tables were placed at one end of the hall; and here cake was served with tea, coffee or chocolate. the cake booths were attractively decorated with crepe paper and flags. posters announced the specialties and prices at each. watermelon cakes were the novelty at one booth; apple lemon cakes at another; a plentiful supply of cookies, dominoes, horsecakes, gingerbread dolls, and little patty pan cakes, containing a prize to attract the patronage of the children, at another. little china dolls, marbles, china dogs, cats, vases, etc., were put in the dough when the little pans were filled. these china toys were not injured by the baking and delighted the children beyond measure. * * * * * at a cake sale recently held for the benefit of a church, a novel feature was introduced in the sale of "scripture cake." the cakes were baked in several different sizes, and sold for from twenty-five cents to one dollar. with each cake sold was given a copy of the recipe by which it was made, which was as follows: scripture cake cup of butter judges : ½ cups flour i kings : cups sugar jeremiah : cups raisins i samuel : cups figs i samuel : cup water genesis : cup almonds genesis : eggs isaiah : tablespoonful honey exodus : a pinch of salt leviticus : spices to taste i kings : tablespoonfuls baking-powder i cor. : follow solomon's advice for making good boys, and you will have a good cake. proverbs : . cake walk (novel kind) i hope this will not shock any of my readers, and i don't think it will after it is read. it can be held in a church or sunday school room without any qualms of conscience on any one's part. have each one come to represent a cake. for instance, sponge cake can be represented by having sponges all over the body; batter cake, by young man wearing baseball suit of clothes and carrying bat; cup cake, by wearing cups around the neck and waist; fruit cake, by carrying baskets of different kinds of small fruits; angel cake, by wearing pictures of angels on the dress and hair; one, two, three, four cake, by wearing the figures , , , pinned on dress or coat; cooky, by wearing chef's cap and apron and a large letter e making that person cook-e; plain cake, by dressing very plainly; orange cake, by carrying orange in each hand; nut cake, by carrying nuts. any other cake can be represented by carrying out the same idea. all should keep moving around so that the people can see what each one represents. a prize of a cake can be given to the one guessing the greatest number of cakes correctly. refreshments should consist of every variety of cake served with cocoa or coffee. calico carnival the society who gave it had the oddly written announcement given below published in the local papers a week in advance. they also used it as a handbill: calico carnival "consider yourself cordially invited to be present at the correctly constructed and considerately combined calico carnival to be held at ---- hall, friday night, february --, , admission fifteen cents. "conspicuous courses served in confused compactness: one conglomerated compound circle; one cup communicative cordial (containing no chickory), or one cup of chinese cheer, or one cup of choice churned cream; one cider cured cucumber; and one cup of cold comfort. "rules and regulations: all ladies to wear calico gowns, also requested to bring half a pound of carefully cut carpet rags each. all gentlemen to wear calico ties and requested to bring thimbles. "fines will be imposed for the following: any lady who fails to wear a calico gown, ten cents; any lady who fails to bring half a pound of carefully cut carpet rags, ten cents; any gentleman who fails to wear a calico tie, twenty-five cents; any gentleman who fails to bring a thimble, five cents. "p. s.--there will be for sale, cheap, cunning calico conveniences that will be a constant comfort. "n. b.--any person who sits in a corner and refuses to converse will be fined five cents. "the sale of calico conveniences will begin at ----." of course, everybody came. the fines and admissions alone would have paid the ladies for the trouble of getting up the carnival. the "conspicuous courses" consisted of cake; coffee, tea, or buttermilk; pickles; and ice water. among the "calico conveniences" which sold readily were the following articles: dusting caps, button bags and bags of every description, chair cushions, aprons with bibs and aprons without, and, in fact, everything that could possibly be manufactured from calico. the carpet rags were given to the gentlemen to sew. an inexpensive prize was given to the one who first finished his task. can factory the words to be guessed all begin with can--the definitions of the whole words being here given. booklets with tiny pencils attached, and containing the verses, may be distributed among the guests and, after the contest is decided, returned as souvenirs of the occasion. . though this can _is_ a can, you all will agree, the can is termed thus because it holds tea. . this long, narrow can holds so precious a stock, that oft you will find it has more than one lock. . the most wick-éd can, tho' safe from police, should you search for its heart you will find it in grease. . this can is a can that delights you and me, it always is "open" and likewise is "free." . where breezes blow and surges roll, with swelling form and manner proud, this can in triumph rides the waves, the sailor's living and his shroud. . here's a can, which, bear in mind, lives on others of its kind. . they say empty cans will produce the most noise, but, if properly filled, this will startle the boys. . most cans are hardly fit to eat, yet you'll like this kind, nice and sweet. . the waltz or the glee or the bold martial strain, each one, as his favorite, endorses; but for those who prefer oratorio style, this can sweetest music discourses. . now who would elect in a can to reside, yet this as a shelter is known far and wide. . a can of most sagacious mind, 'tis "frugal, prudent, shrewd," you'll find. . that a horse should use cans seems indeed strange to say, yet if pressed to have one he'd not utter a nay. . to put cans in poems no one is inclined, yet cans of this sort in some poems you'll find. . in tubs and in bowls men have ventured from land, and in cans of this kind, so i understand. . now, here is a can that is yellow and round, 'twould seem little prized, for it grows on the ground. key . canister. . canal. . candle. . candid. . canvas. . cannibal. . cannon. . candy. . cantata. . canopy. . canny. . canter. . canto. . canoe. . cantaloup. cat guessing contest . i wonder what tabby the ---- to now? (catsup) . we will buy some ---- for puss. (catnip) . we all should learn our ----. (catechism) . both are in the same ----. (category) . see the ---- grazing on the hillside. (cattle) . the artist's name is not in the ----. (catalogue) . it is very distressing to have the ----. (catarrh) . be sure to visit the ---- in rome. (catacombs) . see the ---- crawling on the ground. (caterpillar) . what does the ---- to? (catamount) chestnut sociable first procure a good quantity of chestnuts. plain and roasted chestnuts may be sold at one table. they should be measured into pint and half-pint paper bags, ready for customers. a second table will be needed for bonbons. an excellent taffy is made by stirring chopped chestnuts into plain molasses candy when ready to take from the fire. caramels are improved by adding chopped chestnuts. chopped chestnuts and figs added to crisp sugar candy make a good sweet-meat. shelled chestnuts are glazed by dipping in hot sugar candy. a variety of candies can be made from this receipt: one pound of confectioners' sugar, well beaten white of one egg, one tablespoonful of cold water, one teaspoonful of vanilla. mix well together and mould on a board. mix it with chopped chestnuts and cut into cubes. small balls of the cream can be rolled between the hands, and a whole chestnut (shelled) pressed on one side. the cream can be colored with fruit coloring and different shapes can be made from this. shelled chestnuts dipped in melted sweet chocolate are delicious. old "chestnuts" are prepared by putting old jokes in chestnut shells and glueing them together. these will cause much fun and merriment for the young. have a large bowl of water with three chestnuts in it and let each guest be given two toothpicks to try to get the chestnuts out of the water with the toothpicks, without getting the fingers wet. program for chestnut sociable have some one recite "curfew shall not ring to-night" and "over the hills to the poor house." let some one sing "the old oaken bucket" and "annie laurie." have some one read "the sword of bunker hill" and "bingen on the rhine." any variety of entertainment can be gotten up with a little forethought. children's birthday flowers each month has a flower or plant appropriated to it, and to each a meaning is attached. the list is as follows: january--snowdrop. february--primrose. march--violet. april--daisy. may--hawthorn. june--wild rose. july--lily. august--poppy. september--morning-glory. october--hop. november--chrysanthemum. december--holly. the snowdrop means consolation; the primrose, the freshness of early youth; the violet, modesty; the daisy, innocence; the hawthorn, hope; the wild rose, simplicity; the lily, purity; the poppy, the consolation of sleep; the morning-glory, contentment; hops, joy; the chrysanthemum, cheerfulness; the holly, foresight and protection. the morning-glory is such a perishable flower that it is almost useless for the purpose of decoration, consequently it will be wise to substitute goldenrod, symbolizing stateliness, in its stead. children's birthday parties a birthday is an important event in a child's life, and should not pass unnoticed. a small party for little children is usually more enjoyable and more easily managed than a large one. with many mothers it is the custom to invite as many little guests as correspond to the number of years of the child whose birthday is celebrated. make the table look as attractive as possible with flowers. a pretty arrangement for a fifth birthday is to have a round table, with vines, or a rope of wild flowers or leaves, arranged over it to represent a five-pointed star. the sandwiches, confectionery, etc., may be placed within the star, the birthday cake in the centre, and the five guests seated between the points of decoration. for a sixth birthday, a pretty arrangement would be a six-pointed star, the points to be made with the long fronds of the sword fern. so many people have pots of these ferns growing in their houses, and the foliage is so abundant, that some of the older fronds of the plant may well be spared. the money myrtle is also effective for this decoration, and, in summer, the little partridge vine with its red berries, to be found in every woods, makes very pretty trimming. the cake should be in the centre, and the other viands placed within the star, the children's plates between the points. either a round or square table may be used as preferred. for an eighth birthday, a square table may be used with walls of troy decoration arranged for two children at a side. if the birthday comes in december, a rope of evergreen is appropriate and very effective for this decoration, with branches of holly or other red berries at the corners, the "goodies" to be placed in the centre. for a tenth birthday, quite a long table is needed, and a pretty arrangement of vines in scallops, with a small bunch of flowers at each point may be carried out, the viands being placed in the centre, and a child's plate in each one of the scallops. in all these arrangements due prominence must be given to the birthday cake, the principal feature of the feast. it is placed usually in the centre, is round, decorated with frosting, and as many tiny candles as the child is years old. these are placed in toy candlesticks, made so that they can easily be thrust into the frosting, and the candles are lighted just before the children go to the table. the candlesticks may be purchased at a toy store. it is an excellent idea to place some little souvenir in the cake for each child, tiny china dogs, cats and goats being desirable for this purpose. a candy house will also make a novel and attractive centrepiece for a children's party table. build a log house of red and white sticks of candy, and form the roof of cocoanut strips. for a rail fence use sticks of chocolate candy or straws and make the grass of spun candy. children's christmas party there in the library stood the most perfect snow-man. he wore a fur cap and long white whiskers, and on the floor behind him lay his pack, which had just slipped off his back. he held a doll on one arm, and over the other was hung a line of tiny sleigh-bells. this snow santa claus was made of cotton batting, but he looked exactly like the snow-man in the yard, and the children greeted him with cries of delight. two sticks, wrapped in many thicknesses of cotton to form the legs, had been nailed to a block of wood to make a foundation for this snow-man; the other parts of the body were made like snowballs and sewed in their proper places. each child was allowed to throw a soft rubber ball twice in attempting to hit the string of bells which santa held. those who were successful were told to take some article out of the pack as a reward. fancy cornucopias and small boxes filled with nuts and candy were found by the lucky contestants. the children were then asked to guess the number of berries on a large piece of mistletoe which hung from one of the chandeliers. the one guessing nearest the correct number received a stick-pin bearing a tiny enameled spray of mistletoe. then came old-fashioned romping games, after which a christmas carol was sung and the children marched in to supper. a star-shaped table had been arranged for the occasion. in its centre was a small but handsomely decorated tree. the refreshments consisted of turkey sandwiches, cocoa, lemon jelly with whipped cream, sponge cake, bonbons and nuts. the sponge cake was baked in small star-shaped pans, and ornamented with red and white icing. in the parlor an immense snowball was hung from the chandelier. this had been made by fastening four barrel-hoops together so as to form a round frame, over which was sewed white cambric. then the ball was covered with batting and sprinkled with diamond dust. a slit was made in one side, and each child put in his hand and drew out some article wrapped in tissue paper. these proved to be dolls, balls, and toys of all sorts. some drew out tiny boxes inside of which were slips of paper with directions like these: "look under the divan and you will find a steam-engine," "look beside the radiator and you will find a doll's kitchen," etc. in the dressing-room they were softly pelted with a mysterious shower of snowballs, which they endeavored to catch. the balls were packages of marshmallows wound loosely with white crepe paper. children's christmas tableaux build a cave-shaped box on a raised platform, drape inside and out with white muslin, fasten evergreen boughs about the entrance and at the back, draping all of these with loose tufts of cotton like new-fallen snow, and sprinkling them with mica. sprays of red berries can be introduced with splendid effect. white covered steps must lead up to the cave, about the mouth of which may be spread white fur rugs. let the candles be fastened plentifully around the cave, but have the rest of the room very dimly lighted. in the cave arrange the gifts, wrapped and properly marked, being careful to have one for each person present. dress a pretty, golden-haired little girl as a fairy, with wings and spangles to enter the cave and bring out the gifts, and a couple of little boys as imps or brownies to deliver them. low music should be played in some concealed corner, with now and again a song or chorus by a band of children dressed as fairies. the presentation of the tableaux may either precede or follow the distribution of the gifts. boy blue.--a little boy in a blue suit stands on a pile of hay, side to the audience, with a tin trumpet to his lips. piano music, "little boy blue." if the song is sung softly, it is an addition. bo peep.--a little girl in a white gown, with a shepherd's crook, in pursuit of a woolly lamb on rollers, being drawn across the stage by an invisible string. she stands as if she were running, with one foot out behind her, while the lamb disappears and some one reads the rhyme: "little bo peep has lost her sheep and can't tell where to find them; let them alone and they'll come home and bring their tails behind them." miss muffet.--a little girl sits on boy blue's pile of hay, eating something from a saucer. a small boy steals up behind her, with an artificial spider on a string attached to a pole, which he slowly lowers into her plate. appropriate music is played, and miss muffet screams as the curtain is drawn. cinderella.--a little girl, with torn calico dress and unkempt hair, stands at the right of the stage, her hands clasped and uplifted, smiling in wonder. before her stands a very small boy in a smart military suit, with a white cotton wig on his head, indicating the coach in which she is to go to the ball. the coach may be a pumpkin hollowed into the proper shape, and drawn by a small dog harnessed to it with ribbons, or a go-cart, or baby carriage, drawn by a larger dog. some one behind the scenes plays a waltz very softly. plenty of red fire. little jack horner.--for this a boy with a mischievous face should be chosen. he sits on the floor in the centre of the stage, with a huge pan covered with white paper between his feet. some one behind the scenes reads the nursery rhyme: little jack horner sat in a corner, eating a christmas pie; he put in his thumb and pulled out a plum, and said: "what a great boy am i!" little jack horner, of course, suits the action to the words, pulling a prune, date or raisin out of a hole in the paper pasted over the pan. he puts it in his mouth as the curtain is drawn. following the flag.--in one corner of the stage a tent is erected--a white sheet over a centre pole. all the small boys who have military suits, drums, trumpets and muskets, stand about, and one in the very front holds the flag. in front of the tent, on a pile of hay, lies another small boy, in a military suit, with his eyes closed, and behind him stands a little girl in a big white apron, with the symbol of the red cross on her left arm. music behind the scenes is either "tenting on the old camp ground," or "the star spangled banner," and all the rest of the red fire is ignited. when it dies down, the curtain is drawn, the lights are turned up, and the pianist plays "home, sweet home." children's easter party the little guests when they arrive will be made happy by giving them small baskets to hunt for the eggs which the mother has a few days before blown and colored and hidden all over the house. in a room where there is a hardwood floor have little yellow chicks arranged as tenpins at one end and give the children each an egg and let them roll the eggs and see how many chicks they can knock down. while they are doing this take some of the eggs they have found, run ribbon through them and suspend in different lengths from a chandelier. among these suspended "eggshells" have easter eggs filled with good things. you can buy the eggs, and fill some of them with candy and some with peanuts; put tiny dolls in some and small toys in others, so that no two eggs will be filled alike. then blindfold one child at a time; give him a small cane and let him make one strike and see what he can bring down. it is a good idea to spread a sheet under the chandelier on the floor, so that the shells can be gathered up quickly. then announce refreshments. in the centre of the supper-table upon a mound of smilax place a large rabbit on his haunches, and in his front paws an easter egg. from this mound to each plate run a different-colored piece of ribbon, with a card attached. upon the card have the child's name who sits at that place. at one end of the table have an easter cake with lily decorations, and at the other end place something that looks like a large white frosted cake, with one little downy chick in the centre, and five or six in a row around the edge. this is not a cake but a baking-pan turned upside down, covered with white paper and frosted white. have all the refreshments upon the table--thin slices of bread and butter, sandwiches, nuts, tiny cups of chocolate, cake and ice cream. after all have finished eating and are ready to leave the table the little ones may be told that at the count of three they are to pull their ribbons, first removing bunny from his nest to avoid breaking any dishes. then every child will find attached to the ribbon an egg, the color of his or her ribbon, filled with candy or a small gift of some sort. these eggs, a little yellow chick, and the baskets may be given to the children to carry home. easter salad a delicious and most attractive salad for easter may be made by building a nest of narrow strips of cold boiled potatoes upon a few very crisp lettuce leaves. fill the nest with eggs made of cream cheese rolled in grated yellow cheese. serve on individual plates with a well-made mayonnaise dressing, and plain crackers, or thin slices of brown bread and butter. easter gelatine pour gelatine flavored with unfermented grape juice into egg shells and set them upon the ice. when the jelly seems to be firm remove the shells, and you will have as many pretty clear violet eggs as you have had shells. arrange them around a mould of bavarian cream, and serve. gelatine flavored with chocolate, orange or cranberry juice would make equally pretty eggs, and probably please the children better than the violet ones. easter baskets of dessert little baskets of puff paste were filled with yellow "_eggs_" made from a rich custard which had been thickened with cornstarch, cooked until stiff and poured into egg-shaped moulds. when cold the custard "eggs" were removed from the moulds, placed in the pastry baskets and surrounded with whipped cream, which was dotted with white grapes cut in half and the seeds removed. the effect was very pretty and the dessert delighted the eyes of the guests as well as their palates. this dessert might be utilized for any other occasion by pouring the custard into different-shaped moulds and dotting the whipped cream with candied cherries or fresh berries. children's souvenirs souvenirs at a children's party should be very inexpensive. candy put up in some pretty form is the most suitable thing that can be given. the dainty japanese confections that may be purchased at any large store where oriental goods are sold are novelties, and always please the little people. it is always a great pleasure to children to have something to take home with them from a party, and very inexpensive souvenirs will give happiness quite out of proportion to their value. japanese trifles make pretty gifts, little boxes, bags or baskets filled with candy. tiny kites are appropriate for boys, and fans for girls. japanese dolls may be dressed with the lower part of the skirt prolonged into a bag and filled with candy. only candy of the simplest kind should be used. candy boxes in various fanciful forms, as banjos, drums, tambourines, watering-pots, pails, caps, helmets, fish, etc., may be purchased from any dealer in such wares. they are also made in the shape of birds and animals, as peacocks, canaries, turtles, alligators and elephants. hollow oranges and apples, fruit baskets, with realistic cherries, grapes, etc., on top, and room for candy underneath, are very pretty. if these are thought too expensive ornamented cornucopias to hold bonbons may be procured at various prices, beginning at fifteen cents a dozen. mottoes containing paper hats and caps may be procured as cheaply as ten cents a dozen, and a package of these, holding as many as the child is years old, tied with the birthday color, makes a dainty souvenir. little cradles filled with candy and ornamented with bows are also appropriate gifts. a souvenir pudding.--a common wash-tub, filled with bran or sawdust, will make a nice pudding for a child's party by putting the souvenirs in a layer in the bottom of the tub, then a layer of sawdust, then more presents, and so on until the tub is filled. have a large wooden spoon and let each child make a dive with the spoon until he gets one souvenir. this will please the little ones. children's sweet pea tea the invitations to this tea read like this: _prepare yourself for a sweet pea tea, the 'bus will call for you at three._ _july th._ in one corner of the card a sweet pea was painted in water colors. these cards were sent by mail. of course, the recipients of these invitations had no idea where the party was to be, and waited in great expectation for the appointed day. two 'bus men were engaged and furnished with a list of the invited, and at three o'clock, or as nearly that hour as possible, called for the guests, and after a short and misleading drive arrived at last at their destination. after being received by the hostess, the guests were given cards and pencils and ranged around a long table in the centre of the room, on which were strewn leaves of many kinds of plants. five minutes were given for guessing the plants to which the leaves belonged. at the expiration of that time, the cards were taken (after names had been signed), and a prize given to the best guesser. the guests were then seated, and cards on which was the following list of questions passed around: . what field flower is something to eat and a dish we drink from? . what did the soldier say when he bade his sweetheart good-bye? . the name of what flower is used every day in a slang expression? . the name of what flower did johnny's mother use when she told him to rise? . what hotel in new york city bears the name of a flower? . what flower is most popular in april? . the name of what flower means comfort? . what is the saddest flower? the answers are: . buttercup. . forget-me-not. . daisy. . johnny-jump-up. . aster. . easter lily. . heartsease. . bleeding-heart. the prize for this was a book of flowers and verses. a basket of sweet peas was then passed to the girls, a different color of flower for each one. a similar basket was passed to the boys, and the search for partners began. the boy with the yellow sweet pea became the partner of the girl with the yellow flower. the boy with the white found the girl with the white, etc. the table was strewn with sweet peas, a cut-glass bowl of sweet peas graced the centre, and on each napkin was pinned a small bunch of the flowers. children's tom thumb entertainment for a children's party try the following device: place four chairs in one end of the room and throw over them a large blanket or shawl to cover them completely down to the floor. have some one double up his hands into fists, and on the back of the hands, with a piece of charcoal, paint eyes, nose and mouth, and on one of them paint a moustache. put dolls' dresses on the arms, reaching down to the elbows. put hoods or caps on the hands. let the person thus prepared crawl in between the chairs, and resting the elbows on the floor, hold his forearms perpendicular, so that the backs of the hands will be facing the audience. all the rest of the person's body should be concealed, of course, under the shawl. call these two little people tom thumb and his wife. have some one for their manager, who should stand in front of the chairs and tell them what to do. the manager should explain why tom has a dress on. he can have them perform a number of clever tricks, such as bowing to the audience, kissing each other, pushing each other, etc. they can answer questions in a little, fine voice, or say, "how do you do?" it will be found that this entertainment will please the little folks immensely. children's valentine party from sheets of pink and creamy tinted paper, cut the requisite number of hearts--two for each invitation--and form into envelopes by pasting a pink heart and a creamy tinted one together along the edges, except at the large end, which must be left open to hold the written invitation. on a slightly smaller heart of thinner paper, write the following doggerel: "from half-past six to half-past nine, i pray you to be guest of mine. with valentine, their patron saint, sure all good lovers are acquaint; so in his honor kindly spend a pleasant evening with a friend." slip this in the envelope formed by the two hearts, having first glued to the indentation at the larger end of the small heart a loop of baby ribbon by which to pull it out. on the white side of the envelope write the name and address; on the pink side, an older sister may draw cunning little cupids, or hearts transfixed with little arrows. cut from pink paper as many hearts as there are to be boys, but no two of these hearts must be of the same size; cut from gilt paper the same number of hearts, one for each girl, matching in size those cut from the pink paper. when the guests arrive, give each boy a pink and each girl a gilt heart. when a boy finds the girl who holds a gilt heart matching in size his pink one, they are partners for the evening. in this search all formality will have worn off. cupid's darts will pass a jolly half hour. make a large heart of several layers of pink tissue paper, and fill it loosely with bonbons; encase this in a slightly larger heart of open-meshed bobinet; hang on the wall on one side of the room by two loops sewed to the large, upper part of the heart. provide a toy bow and arrow, and let each child in turn shoot at the heart. the arrows will remain sticking in the lace and paper, and the one whose arrow comes nearest the centre receives the first prize--a heart-shaped box of candy. also provide small heart-shaped boxes filled with candies for each child to take home. for refreshments, make sandwiches from heart-shaped pieces of bread cut with a cake cutter; bake the cakes in heart-shaped tins, and have the ices frozen in the same design. as red and pink are the proper colors for decoration on this day, it will be a pretty idea to have the lemonade colored pink with fruit juice. pretty favors can be made from crepe tissue-paper. flowers, bonbon boxes, handkerchief-cases, and many another trifle, will please the young folks, more especially if they are the work of their little hostess's own hands. chinese party invitations should read as follows: _come to the chinese tea party and help eat rice and rats prepared and served by chinese girls at ---- church monday evening, jan. th._ you can stimulate interest in the heathen wonderfully by inviting them to come, with all their bag and baggage, and pay your society a visit. have booths in the room representing the countries in which the church is doing missionary work. let the attendants be costumed like the natives, and all the appointments of the booths suggest the life of the countries represented. when curiosity is thus piqued, information about these mission lands may be circulated by the help of questions on cards to be passed around. write the questions in black ink, and underneath, in red ink, the answer to one of the other questions. it will require a pretty lively interchange of cards for each one to find the answer to his question. the committee should try to make this evening as attractive as possible, and if it can be arranged all the members should appear in chinese costume. in the centre of the church room, fit up a booth, covered with a large chinese umbrella, and around it place small tables on which to serve refreshments. this can be made to look like a chinese garden. rice and rats can be served as follows: boil rice until rather stiff and turn it into cups to cool. after ready to serve turn upside down in dishes and serve each dish with a _candy rat_ on top. the rice should be served with cream and sugar. also have tea and wafers. a small fee can be charged for refreshments to go to missionary purposes. of course no one but the committee should know what the "rice and rats" is to be, as it would spoil the fun. a nice idea would be to give chopsticks as souvenirs. christmas costume party the invitations for a christmas party of this sort should be enclosed in white envelopes decorated with holly and should read as follows: _master ----, as "winter," and miss ----, as "christmas," will be glad to receive the "months" on thursday evening, december the twenty-fourth._ in the lower left-hand corner of each, above the address, should be indicated the character which the little guest is to represent, as, for instance: "please represent july." have the little host and hostess represent "winter" and "christmas." when the children arrive let them find a throne built of dry-goods boxes, covered with canton flannel with the fuzzy side out, well sprinkled with diamond dust and tufts of cotton, and above the throne a canopy made of evergreen boughs. dip some of the boughs first in a weak solution of gum-arabic and then in flour, and sprinkle them with diamond dust; hang others in alum water until crystals form over the foliage. dress the little host in a suit of white cambric well bespangled with crystal beads and glass pendants. let him wear white slippers and stockings, and over one shoulder a white shawl covered with artificial frost. on his head place a jaunty white beaver hat decorated with a long white plume. the little hostess should wear a white dress of soft, fluffy material, trimmed with holly and mistletoe, and red stockings and slippers. seated upon the throne, beside one another, they should receive their guests, who should appear in the characters indicated upon their invitations. after all the children have been welcomed let them form in line, with "winter" and "christmas" leading, and march up-stairs and down to the music of piano and violin. the children might then be shown some views of bethlehem and the christ-child and told or read a christmas story. just before going-home time some "grown-up" person, dressed to represent santa claus, might come in and deposit his pack in the dining-room and distribute some little gifts. then some simple refreshments should be served before the children go home. christmas menu and table decorations ottoman country roasted and gorged. (roast turkey) red swamp fruit sauce. (cranberry sauce) hibernia's pride crushed. (mashed potatoes) cucurbita maxima crushed. (mashed squash) stalks of kalamazoo. (celery) bivalves nestled. (escalloped oysters) dough baked. (bread) cream churned. (butter) lover's test. (pickles) curd pressed. (cheese) arabian nectar and bossy's best. (coffee and cream) rosy cheeks and bossy's best. (peach sherbet) cherub's diet. (angel's food) nature's food. (fruit) squirrel's dependence. (mixed nuts) sweet compound. (candy) select for your color scheme red and green. set the dining-table in the centre of the room directly under the chandelier. to the latter fasten a large bunch of holly with plenty of red berries, and make garlands of evergreen to reach from the chandelier to the four corners of the table, fastening each one to the tablecloth with a bow of red ribbon. have plenty of holly berries in the garlands of evergreen. if holly is dipped in a strong solution of alum water and dried in the sun, it will have the effect of being frosted. have a red carnation with a sprig of green laid at each plate. red and green paper napkins should be used. have pretty side dishes of red and green things, such as red apples, red and green grapes, and all kinds of red and green bonbons. the first column of the menu as given should be printed or written and laid at each plate, for the guests to study while the courses are being served. christmas umbrella game take a large umbrella--an old one will do--wind the handle with bright yellow ribbon and line the body with red percaline as near the color of holly berries as possible. be sure to shape the lining so that it will not sag. cover the outside with green percaline and finish the top with sprigs of holly and a bow of red and green ribbon. trim the edge of the umbrella with a row of tiny bells and wind the ribs with crepe or tissue paper the same color as the lining; do this the last thing so that it will not come undone. select small appropriate gifts for the young guests; conceal them within dainty wrappings and tie them with ribbon to the ribs of the umbrella. when ready for the game let the children form a circle and choose one of their number to stand in the centre and hold the umbrella. the children may then dance around singing: "merrily 'round this christmas ring, dancing gayly as we sing. what would this umbrella bring if we changed to hippetty-hop and our hostess called out 'stop'?" when singing "hippetty-hop" let the children hop around instead of dancing, and when the hostess calls out "stop" the child with the umbrella raises it over his head and the present which sways longest belongs to him. he unties it, and as he does so he hands the umbrella to another child, whose place he takes in the circle, and so on until all the children have had a chance to hold the umbrella and receive one of the gifts which hang from it. after the game the umbrella may be given to the child who receives the largest number of votes as a souvenir of the evening. if one does not wish the trouble of trimming an umbrella as described above, a japanese umbrella may be purchased for a small sum, and will be equally appropriate. church bazaar suggestions for an orange grove.--evergreen trees should be procured and placed about the hall to make it resemble a grove. the oranges may be made of a wad of cotton, inclosing a trinket, covered with orange-colored tissue paper. hang them on the trees and let each purchaser select the one he wants, paying a nominal sum for it. other attractions may be a booth where real oranges may be bought; a well from which orangeade is dispensed; a booth for articles of fancy-work made in shades of orange, and one for orange-flavored cakes and candies. the booths should, of course, be draped in orange color, relieved by touches of white, the attendants' costumes being of the same shade. orange blossoms, made of tissue paper, will add daintiness to the decorations. * * * * * an unoccupied house is a most convenient place to hold a fair. each room may be devoted to some special attraction; one for the supper, one for the evening's entertainment, one for the fortune-teller, and so on. this idea is admirable for an affair of the nations, devoting one room to each country and its characteristics. * * * * * seats should be provided in the grove where the visitors may be refreshed with orange ice, or orange gelatine and cake at a moderate price. if there is a small room adjoining the hall in which the fair is held it may be fitted up to represent a tropical scene. this would be the place to sell rubber plants, palms, ferns, etc. long clusters of bananas hung amid the foliage will make the scene more realistic. * * * * * a tulip bed is one of the prettiest ways of hiding surprise packages. a portion of the floor should be marked off in a square and enclosed with boards one foot high, painted green. fill this bed with sawdust and plant paper tulips in all colors. have a package tied to the end of each tulip, making the flower stand firm when planted. each purchaser pulls up any flower he chooses. * * * * * although brown seems a sombre color for a fair booth, it may really be used most effectively. have the booth made oblong with a counter across the front and have each end covered with brown crepe paper with frilled edges; have also a brown curtain below the counter hanging to the floor. have the roof, and the posts supporting it, covered with the russet leaves of the chestnut-tree, while around the roof a fringe of chestnut burrs is hung. at one end of the booth serve hot chocolate with whipped cream; at the other have all kinds of nuts on sale; and in front have a display of chocolate and nut cakes and candies. in arranging for any sort of church entertainment remember that elaborate accessories are not of so much importance as the display of cleverness in the carrying out of the ideas which form the basis of the entertainment. cobweb sociable first, wind strings all over the house before the arrival of the company. suspend a rope diagonally across one corner of the room, over which the ends of the strings can hang, each one numbered: numbers are to be given each one of the guests, and each is to hunt the string that has his number on it. a sheet can be hung across this end of the room hiding everything from view until time for winding. have some games ready to play for the amusement of guests until all have arrived. as soon as all the company gathers, the sheet can be removed and all commence hunting their numbers at once. they are told to go wherever the string leads, but they may not succeed as the strings should be through keyholes, under beds, out of doors, around the house, in at the windows, and every place where they can be put. plenty of fun can be had if every one enters into the game and keeps it up until finished. bananas and cake can be served at this sociable or any other light refreshments desired. conundrum tea . a survivor of the flood (ham). . woman of grit (sandwich). . cattle in a railroad disaster (dried beef). . impertinence (apple "sass"). . spring's offering (water). . for old maids and bachelors (pickles). . tabby's party (cat sup). . boston's overthrow (tea). . what all people need (bread and butter). . new england brains (baked beans). . young man's sweetheart (honey). . an unruly member (tongue). . sahara (dessert). . tree cake (cocoanut cake). extras . love's symbol (doughnuts). . what i do when i mash my finger (ice cream). . a mass of types (pie). _note._--each society can use their own judgment about the price to be charged. a certain amount may be charged for the entire supper, or each article may have a price affixed, such as two cents, four cents, three cents, and so forth. cook book sale every lady in the church was asked to make, from sheets of brown wrapping paper, ten paper books of uniform size, four and one-half by six inches, sewing them to confine the leaves. the paper was two cents a sheet, and five sheets would make the ten books. in each book, clear and explicit written directions for ten of the best miscellaneous recipes that she used in cooking were to be contributed by each one, the same recipes to be in the ten books furnished, and signed by the one contributing them. the ten recipes included one soup, one salad, one made-over dish, one cake recipe, one cooky recipe, two muffin or gem recipes, and three dessert recipes. one week was allowed for this work, then the books were sent where the sale was to take place. there were five hundred books in all, fifty ladies having responded to the request. in the meantime, invitations had been sent to the members of the other two churches in the town, and to the summer visitors, and the vestry-rooms were crowded the evening of the sale. the books were offered for sale at five cents each, and in less than an hour all were sold, those contributed by housekeepers famous for their cooking being in great demand, while all were of more or less interest in a town where every one is well known. after the sale of the recipes, the real sport of the entertainment began. each lady who contributed recipes also brought a sample of cake made from the cake recipe she had given. these samples were of all sizes, wrapped in waxed paper and tagged with the maker's name. they were auctioned off without being undone, the name attached to the tag being read by the auctioneer, and much merriment was occasioned by the witty, bright way in which he drew attention not only to the cake, but to the one who made it. if desired, such an auction sale may be held without the cook book sale preceding, whole and cut cakes, cookies, doughnuts, etc, being used. as the cakes are wrapped and no one knows what he is buying, much amusement results. cooky sociable cut paper into pieces the shape and size of a cooky. write a proverb on each one, then cut each paper cooky into two parts, each in a different manner, so that no two cookies will be cut alike. one set of halves is to be given to the ladies, and the other to the gentlemen. each person present then proceeds to match the half cooky he has; when found, the proverb should read correctly. the couple who match halves eat refreshments together. it is very nice to have some one play a march on the piano while the matched partners form in line two by two and march to the supper-room. for refreshments serve all kinds, shapes, and sizes of cookies with coffee or lemonade. corn-husking bee late in october, when the corn has matured and been stacked in the barn, the following informal invitations may be sent out to all the neighboring young people: _you are cordially invited to a corn husking to be held in martin mattice's barn on the evening of october the thirty-first at eight o'clock._ previous to the evening mentioned the ears of corn are stripped from the stalks and formed into two huge piles upon the barn floor. lanterns should be hung here and there upon the beams to give the necessary light, and stools provided for the workers. the company, on arrival, is divided equally, one half being assigned to one pile, the other half to pile number two, and the contest begins, each division striving to finish its pile first. the husks must be entirely removed from each ear, and whoever first discloses to view a red ear is considered especially fortunate, as the first red ear shown is supposed to bring good luck to its possessor. after all the ears have been husked the winner of the red ear is escorted in state to the house, where a warm fire (always an open one, if possible) and a supper are waiting. corn supper decorate the walls of the room in which the supper is to be served with as much green as can be procured at this season of the year. procure a dozen pumpkins, remove the pulp, cutting a hole at the top of the shell; cut also four stars in the sides of each pumpkin, cover with light yellow paper and place candles inside. these lanterns, being set in various convenient spots about the room and lighted just before the supper is served, shed a corn-colored glow over the room. in the centre of the table arrange a vase filled with any late autumn yellow flowers--dahlias, chrysanthemums or marigolds; place candles at each end of the table screened by yellow crepe paper shades. the refreshments may consist of egg and lemon-butter sandwiches, cornbread, chicken salad, sponge cake, gold cake, lemon ice cream and lemon water ice, cup custards, honey in the comb, lemonade and coffee. dutch party for decorations: holland's national colors, blue and red; dutch flags; tulips; crepe paper in delft designs, etc. instead of tally cards each guest may be furnished a little wooden shoe on a delft-blue ribbon. tiny pretzels are slipped on the ribbon for games won, the shoe keeping them from slipping off at the other end. large wooden shoes may be used for bonbons and nuts at the tables. for prizes: handsome steins and pipes, a pair of burnt wood holland shoes, delft plaques, dutch pictures, novelties decorated with quaint dutch figures, a poster of queen wilhelmina, etc. the supper table may have for its centrepiece a large blue stein with red tulips tumbling out of it. delft china and paper napkins are appropriate, and a _menu_ of dutch dishes: oysters omelet smoked herring creamed codfish or finna haddie in chafing dish cold meat, in very thick slices pickled eggs, pickled beets, pickled onions cucumbers, lemons and prawns cold slaw fish or potato salad cheese sandwiches rye bread, in very thin slices cheese honey cakes oval cinnamon cakes pancakes, size of a silver quarter coffee and chocolate easter egg hunt an easter egg hunt will furnish plenty of amusement for an easter party. the nests are made of paper moss. in them are placed eggs of different varieties, some genuine hard boiled eggs, some of china or wood and some of candy. the wooden eggs should contain tiny ducks or chickens. the nests are hidden in every nook and corner of the house. the guests are then bidden to go nest hunting, and a half hour is given for the hunt. each guest is given a little fancy basket in which to gather his eggs. the one securing the greatest number of eggs is given a prize of a large fancy egg. the baskets and eggs may be retained as souvenirs. easter luncheon of course, silver and glassware must be sparkling, and the white cloth spotless, or, if one wishes, luncheon scarfs and mats or doilies are equally popular, and a highly polished table is a bit less formal than the regular dinner cloth. a centrepiece of gold cloth or of any yellow silken material is effective--the edges may be quickly overcast by heavy rope silk in long and short stitch. a bunch of easter lily sprays in a bowl or gold and white vase crown the whole. if one can arrange to have the china gold and white it is very pretty; but every hostess must consult her own china store and plan accordingly. napkins stiffly folded at each place can hold an artificial lily, which carries in its heart a tiny candy box. these lilies can be bought at some caterer's or made at home very easily. stiff wire--yet not so stiff as not to bend in any desired shape--can form the skeleton. the stem is made of five wires woven together, green paper being twisted over them and at the top; each separate wire is bent out to form a foundation for each white petal, made of white crepe paper, easily shaped and pasted in place. a little practice will show the amateur that this is not at all difficult. a pill box covered with gold paper can be pressed down in the heart of the lily, the top being covered with stamens made of gold paper shredded and twisted. lilies of the same type, only larger with larger boxes having no covers, can form the bonbon boxes. these must be even more conventional, as they have no stems, resting directly on the table. the menu should be simple. when the luncheon is over and the guests have left the dining-room for the drawing-room, a new edition of the old cobweb game makes merry fun and is arranged as follows: a huge flower-pot is placed on the centre of the table, in which are planted some artificial lilies to carry out the idea, and under the flower-pot are gathered the ends of many strings, each one of which must be appropriated by a guest. these strings cross and intercross about furniture and corners of course, and give opportunities for many tête-à-têtes. here and there some little verses may be tied if it is wished to add fun to the quest. "do not faint, oh, maid, i beg, you shall find a golden ----" "gather roses while you may; gather them--the livelong day." and many another nonsense couplet to suit the company and occasion. at the end of each string must be found a candy easter egg, or a hollow egg containing some little trinket. easter sociable have printed programs sent out with the following announcement (any name can be substituted for the east end connett y): _an eggs-ellent plan has been adopted by the east end connett y, to eggs-haust the eggs-pence of sending a delegate to the state convention. we shall hold an_ egg social. _the eggs-pence of admission is eggs-actly ten cents. we mean to have an eggs-ellent time. you are urged to eggs-ert yourself to come and eggs-amine for yourself. you can eggs-pect to have lots of fun at small eggs-pence. an eggs-ellent committee will wait upon you. plenty of eggs will be served. eggs-it at your pleasure. n. b.--plenty of easter egg novelties will be sold._ a fruit-stand covered with moss and twigs, and arranged to represent a nest filled with eggs and placed upon a bed of moss should form the central decoration for the table. around the nest four large rabbit bonbonnières should be placed, with pieces of baby ribbon of all colors fastened to their forepaws and running out to or below the edge of the table, each ribbon being strung with eggs. between the four large rabbits four smaller ones should peer out from under the nest between the ribbons. provide each person present with a dime, lead-pencil, and sheet of paper, upon which the following list is printed. find upon the dime the following articles: . fruit of a tropical tree. (date) . what the siamese twins were. (united) . what a lazy man seldom gets. (ahead) . the division of a country. (states) . the cradle of liberty. (america) . something a schoolboy makes. (figures) . an instrument to catch sound. (ear) . the number a miser takes care of. (one) . what makes the forest green. (foliage) . something a bootblack likes to give. (shine) of course the answers are not printed, but are kept by the committee for reference. a prize of one dime can be given the one with the most correct answers. any kind of easter novelties can be sold for a dime. for refreshments serve eggs in every form, with bread and butter and coffee, for one dime. fairies' garden a clever scheme for a church fair is the "fairies' garden," which is nothing more than the old grab-bag in a new dress. one seen recently was set up near a booth trimmed with evergreens, with a fence made of "cat-tails," planted about four inches apart, enclosing it in front. to this the people who were present flocked, and were free, on the payment of a small sum, to pull a flower or vegetable as they should see fit. within and at the back of the inclosure was a trellis made of wire netting with the largest holes procurable, covered with vines, among which nestled pink paper roses. in each rose a small present was hidden from view. then there was a "pond," made of a tin boiler banked with stones and moss, and filled with water, on which floated water lilies and leaves. to each lily was tied a weighted present, such as the water could not injure. a bed of real goldenrod planted in a box of sawdust, with the presents tied to the stems of the flowers and buried in the sawdust, completed the flower garden. the vegetable bed fully repaid for all the time and trouble spent upon it. it was an enclosure of four boards, filled with sawdust, the vegetables being made of paper and filled with cotton and the presents. after the vegetables and flowers were planted the beds were covered with moss. a few signs added to the effect, such as "great south-sea bubble" for the cabbage bed, and "please do not pull the cats' tails. by order of the society for the prevention of cruelty to animals," for the cat-tail fence. carrots, beets, onions and cabbages answered the purpose well, being of convenient shapes and very easily made. the carrots were made on a cornucopia of stiff brown paper, in which the present was put, and then the cornucopia was covered with plain carrot-colored tissue paper, closed at the top, painted to imitate the creases in a carrot, and ornamented with a small tuft of leaves cut from green tissue paper. the beets were stuffed with cotton, in which the present was concealed, and then covered with the proper colored tissue paper. the onion bulbs were covered with crinkled cream-white tissue paper, and the tops were made of stiff white paper spills, or lamp-lighters, covered with dark green tissue paper. the cabbages were of pale green and yellow--almost cream color--crinkled tissue paper, wound around the central ball of cotton; the paper was cut and pulled out in the shape of leaves, or twisted to form the stalk. there were four little girls dressed as "flower fairies," who kept the garden in order, and helped in many ways, looking very effective in their costumes of a "morning-glory," a "daffy-down-dilly," a yellow and white "daisy," and a "wild rose." feast of seven tables this feast if well planned and carried out is most pleasing in its results. there are seven tables. these tables are set in white, with centrepieces and other decorations to carry out the color scheme. have first table near the door, and others arranged according to the menu, which can be changed to suit the seasons. it is necessary to have two sets of waiters, the first to clear away, and the second to furnish fresh supplies. all must dress to harmonize with the colors of their tables. serve food in small quantities and in small dishes. at the ringing of a bell seven guests are seated at the first table. at the expiration of seven minutes, the bell again rings, and those at the first table pass to the second table, and seven other guests are permitted to enter the room, and to be seated at the first table. here is where the waiters will have to hurry and reset the tables. at the close of every seven minutes the bell rings, signaling all to pass up one table. seven persons pass out every seven minutes, and forty-nine are fed in as many minutes. a novel idea is to charge seven cents on entering the dining-room, seven cents when through at the last table, and seven cents as they pass out the door, making twenty-one cents for each guest. they will not object after they are through with the menu at the seven tables. winifred m. simonds. decorations and menu for seven tables _decorations_ _menu_ _white table_ white centrepiece shredded potatoes white dishes white bread and butter white napkins cold roast pork white flowers milk _brown table_ brown centrepiece brown bread and butter brown dishes brown coffee doilies worked in brown boston baked beans brown leaves pressed brown pickles _green table_ green bordered centrepiece wafers tied with green ribbon green flowered dishes lettuce green paper napkins olives green foliage green tea pickles _red table_ old fashioned red table cloth red cake cranberry sauce red flowered dishes wafers tied with red ribbon red napkins red flowers _orange table_ orange bordered centrepiece orange wafers orange paper napkins sliced oranges orange colored flowers orange cake _yellow table_ yellow centrepiece lemon pie yellow figured dishes cheese yellow paper napkins lemonade yellow flowers _pink table_ pink bordered centrepiece pink cakes pink flowered dishes pink pop-corn pink paper napkins pink candies pink flowers pink carnation for each guest feast of nations the following is a description of a church supper which was recently given with great success: the japanese table was decorated with chrysanthemums. at each place was a japanese tray on which a japanese napkin was folded in a fanciful manner. little dishes of rice, hard-boiled eggs, cabbage chopped fine, and small cups of tea comprised the first course. the second course was a turkey dinner. the waiters were in japanese costume. the favors were small japanese umbrellas tied with the japanese colors, red and white. at the chinese table the first course was rice prepared with curry, followed by chicken pie with the usual accompaniments. chopsticks were in evidence, though the guests were not compelled to use them. the waiters were in chinese dress. the table was adorned with curios, and the favors were ancestral tablets in tiny boxes, tied with yellow, the national color of china. the hindustani table was resplendent with red and yellow tulips, the colors of india. handsome bowls of beaten brass loaned by a returned missionary ornamented the table. four young men in the costume peculiar to india waited upon this table. the special dish was chicken with curry, and the favors were genuine indian bracelets. some rare old welsh china was used on the welsh table, and the menu cards, written in welsh, were in the shape of welsh hats. a welsh flag was given as a souvenir to each guest. the irish table was served by lassies gowned in green. the menu cards were in the form of shamrocks. "potatoes with their jackets on" and buttermilk were the dishes characteristic of this country. the tablecloth was of bright green denim and the decorations were all of green leaves. the table representing bonnie scotland had menu cards decorated with the thistle. jam tarts were among the delicacies. the english table was decorated in the english colors, with the english standard as a centrepiece. roast beef, of course, was an essential part of the dinner, supplemented by plum pudding, caraway cakes and tea. the favors were red and white roses. white-capped waitresses served at the french table which was bright with candelabra, asparagus ferns and pink ribbons. the menu cards bore the fleur-de-lis. peas, olives and candied walnuts were distinctive dishes. the color scheme was pink and green. at the table representing holland the girls wore dutch peasant costumes and served coffee and chocolate, carrots with cream sauce, so commonly used among the hollanders, sausage, rye bread and pickles, cake and gingerbread baked in fancy shapes. the german table was gay with flowers. noodle soup, german cheese and anise cakes were added to a generous dinner. the menu cards were in the form of corn-flowers and were written in german text. the favors were pretzels. at the italian table macaroni and fruit were the dishes. the favors were menu cards with the italian flag painted on each. the mexican table was decorated with palms, and a dinner very similar to one a traveler would get in that country was served. the favors were menu cards written in spanish, to which tiny mexican _tamales_ were attached by red and green ribbons, the mexican colors. dainty arbutus graced the new england table and menu cards. the repast was a bounteous thanksgiving dinner such as new englanders know how to provide. baked beans and brown bread were on the menu, as were also several kinds of pie and apple-sauce. the western table was waited upon by a boy and girl dressed as indians with the ornaments they admire. the table was ornamented with flowers. the dinner cards showed paintings of indian heads and the favors were little paper canoes. the cakes, fruit, etc., were served in indian baskets. the southern table had a menu different from all the others. among the good things were a whole roast pig, corn bread, warm biscuit and sweet potatoes. there were colored waiters in conventional white linen suits. the favors that stood by each plate were little dinah dolls. fish market a rustic bridge was built out from one side of the platform forming a square space in one corner of the room that was used for a fish pond. rocks and ferns were grouped along the edge of the platform, the floor was covered with green carpet, and a pretty meadow scene painted on coarse cotton was hung at the back, making a very picturesque setting for the pond. steps led up to the bridge, and at the foot was a rustic lodge where, on payment of a fee, the prospective fisher was given a pole and a circle of cardboard, upon which was marked the number of times he was entitled to fish. thus equipped, he went up on the bridge and fished in the pond. additional fishing tickets were sold by the bridgekeepers. articles of all description and varying values were fished forth from the pond, which made it all the more exciting. refreshments were served in the hall and there were a candy and cake table and two stalls where fancy articles were sold. one of these stalls bore the sign, fish market. here fish of many brilliant colors and quaint shapes were for sale; they were blotters, shaving cases, pincushions, sachet bags, needle-books, housewives, pen-wipers, spool and veil cases, emeries, court-plaster cases and kites. they were made of inexpensive materials, but their novelty caused them to sell rapidly. the fish market was well patronized. at the other stall, pillows and lamp-shades were sold. red linen pillows shaped like japanese fish and worked with black attracted a great deal of attention; other pillows had poster fish swimming across them, and still others were adorned with borders of fishes and anglers' maxims. fish lamp-shades--scarlet, yellow and delicately tinted--found a ready sale among the young people, and caused much mirth. on the cake and candy table there were many toothsome fishes--chocolate and clear candy fish, boxes of candy decorated with fishing scenes in water-color and pen and ink, sandwiches cut out with fish-shaped tin cutters, also fish-shaped cookies and small iced cakes. the tops of the large cakes were ornamented with fish designs done with contrasting colors of icing. flags of nations secure as many cards as there are to be guests, and paint or paste on each of them some five or six small flags of different nations, numbering each flag. sometimes one can obtain small buttons with these flags on them, and these answer quite as well. it is better to have each card different, and to assort the flags, so that every card may contain some not very generally known. the united states flag might be omitted, as every one would be familiar with that; but the flag of liberia could be used on several cards, as its resemblance to our flag would be apt to deceive many. plates showing the various national flags in colors may be found in the front of almost any unabridged dictionary. hand a card and a pencil to each guest. the pencil may be made quite attractive by covering it with a strip of crepe paper in some bright color. this can be easily accomplished by cutting the paper into lengths a little longer than the pencil, pasting one side, and rolling the pencil in the paper, then tying with a bow of narrow ribbon. after the guests are supplied with cards and pencils let each one write opposite the flags the names of the countries whose emblems they are. this will be found no easy matter, unless the guest should be a sailor or a globe-trotter, and many amusing guesses will be recorded. the one who succeeds in guessing the countries correctly, or in guessing nearest, might be rewarded with a united states flag pin or a pretty silk flag. for making awards the hostess should have a list of the flags that are on each card, which should be numbered, and compare the list with the guesses handed in by the company. floral love story . the girl's name and the color of her hair (marigold). . the color of her eyes (violet). . her brother's name and an adjective that just describes her (sweet william). . her brother's favorite musical instrument (trumpet). . at what time did he awaken his father with it (four o'clock). . with what did his father punish him (goldenrod). . what did the boy do (balsam). . what office in the presbyterian church did her father fill (elder). . being a farmer, what was his occupation in spring (plantain). . her lover's name and what he wrote it with (jonquil). . what, being single, he often lost (bachelor's buttons). . what confectionery he took to her (peppermint). . what he did when he proposed (aster). . what ghastly trophy did he lay at her feet (bleeding heart). . what did she give him in return (heartsease). . what did she say to him (johnny-jump-up). . what flower did he cultivate (tulips). . to whom did she refer him (poppy). . what minister married them (jack-in-the-pulpit). . what was wished with regard to their happiness (live-forever). . when he went away, what did she say to him (forget-me-not). . with what did she punish her children (lady's-slipper). . what hallowed their last years (sweet peas). flower bazaar six booths, if properly planned, will mean a small but picturesque bazaar. five of these booths may represent flowers, and many of the articles sold from them may be made at home by members of the society which the sale is designed to aid. drape the lily booth in white, decorate it with easter lilies and light it with fairy lamps with white shades. little novelties for easter gifts may be sold here--the pretty trifles which are easily made. the violet booth may be almost self-decorative if easter cards and dainty booklets bearing the flower are displayed. many choice bits of verse and short paragraphs of uplifting thought may be found in the religious publications of to-day, and if these are carefully mounted on white cards and tied with violet ribbon to a bunch of the fresh flowers they will make the most cheering of easter messages. provision should be made at the booth for the cards to be autographed with the names of the senders. the tulip booth may be the gayest of the gay, and there the children should find easter eggs in all colors of the rainbow. the booth should be lighted with gay lanterns. those in charge should appear in oriental costumes. the choice of decorations for the pansy booth is a wide one. light green would make a good background to set off the bowls of different colored blossoms adorning the table. at this booth flower seeds, bulbs and plants of all kinds might be on sale. seedlings are always ready sellers. a booth which would prove very popular with housewives would be the one where daffodils are in evidence, and there the egg delicacies for easter menus might be on sale: stuffed eggs, pickled eggs, egg salad, custards, and angel and sponge cakes. over this booth place a large yellow umbrella, fringed with daffodils. on a card fastened to the handle have the familiar quotation: "daffodils, that come before the swallow dares." butterflies fluttering over the candy booth, as if attracted by the sweets there, will induce others to come for the same sweets. the butterflies may be made of crepe paper and suspended above the booth by invisible wires; the vibration of the air will make them appear very real. the little maid who presides should be gowned to represent a butterfly. care should be taken that the attendants at the different booths are dressed in colors to harmonize with the decorative scheme. flower guessing contest . my first wears my second on her foot. (lady's slipper) . a roman numeral. (iv-ivy) . the hour before my english cousin's tea. (four-o'clock) . good marketing. (butter and eggs) . a gay young man and a ferocious animal. (dandelion) . my first is often sought for my second. (marigold) . a young man's farewell to his sweetheart. (forget-me-not) . her reply to him. (sweet william) . the gentler sex of the friend persuasion. (quaker ladies) . its own doctor. (self-heal) . my first is as sharp as needles, my second is as soft as down. (thistledown) . my first is a country in asia, my second is the name of a prominent new york family. (china aster) . my first is the name of a bird, my second is worn by cavalrymen. (larkspur) . a church official. (elder) . a very precise lady. (primrose) . a tattered songster. (ragged robin) . my first is sly but cannot wear my second. (foxglove) . the color of a horse. (sorrel) . a craze in holland in the seventeenth century. (tulip) . my first is an implement of war, my second is a place where money is coined. (spearmint) . a disrespectful name for a physician. (dock) . fragrant letters. (sweet peas) . my first is a white wood, my second is the name of a yellow rhenish wine. (hollyhock) . what the father said to the son in the morning. (johnny-jump-up) . my first is a facial expression of pleasure, my second a woodsman's means of livelihood. (smilax) . an animal of the jungle is my first, my second is the name of a tall, fair lady. (tiger lily) . my first is made in a dairy but is seldom served in my second. (buttercup) . my first wears my second on his head. (coxcomb) . a close companion. (stick-tight) . a fashionable shade for evening dresses. (heliotrope) flower luncheons daisy luncheon.--just before luncheon the hostess may crown each guest with a wreath, which she has prepared by tying the blossoms on circles of fine wire. in the centre of the luncheon-table have a large bunch of blossoms and also a few scattered carelessly over the table. trim the edge of the table with a chain of daisies, looped up here and there. at each corner have a large bow of ribbon, either white or of three colors, yellow, green and white. serve only light refreshments. yellow and white ices served together would be pretty. by all means have your cakes cooked in patty-pans. ice the little cakes with chocolate, and on top of each have a life-size daisy. any amateur can make this decoration successfully. boil your icing thick and squeeze it through a small funnel made of thick writing-paper in order to make the long, narrow, white petals of a daisy. reserve a small portion of the icing and tint it bright yellow for the centres. the effect will be quite pretty. after refreshments are served supply each guest with a sheet of paper and a tiny pencil with a ribbon bow at the end (these pencils can be purchased for a cent apiece). announce that the guest who draws the most natural daisy will be awarded a prize. distribute the blossoms for models. pin all of the papers upon the wall and let the guests decide which is the most lifelike flower. award a pretty book to the one who succeeds best and a booklet of pressed flowers to the second best. buttercup luncheon.--a very effective arrangement of buttercups for a luncheon is here suggested. it must be remembered that this flower closes at night and therefore is not suitable for an evening decoration. in the centre of the table arrange a circle of large rock ferns, and in the circle thus made place an inverted round pudding-dish, surrounding it with a large wreath of buttercups. place the wreath so that half of each fern leaf will project beyond the buttercups. on the pudding-dish, the sides of which are hidden by the wreath, place a fern-dish full of growing ferns, and almost hidden among them a green glass vase filled with buttercups and grasses. this same idea may be carried out with daisies. ox-eyed daisies may be used for a luncheon-table decoration very effectively. in the centre of a round table, arranged to seat eight people, place a mound of daisies and mountain ferns and have a rope of daisies running from each plate to the centre. the ends of the ropes may be hidden in the mound. violet luncheon.--in the centre of a table stand a large cut-glass bowl on a violet embroidered centrepiece. fill this bowl with smilax and pink carnations. in the centre of the bowl place a tall green glass vase and make it secure by passing four lengths of ribbon crossed over the top of it, fastening the ends on the edge of the centrepiece with little bows. in the green vase place eight bunches of violets. from each bouquet run violet baby-ribbons ending in a little bow at each place. this will make a number of ribbons resembling a may-pole. after the luncheon each guest may unfasten the little bow at her place, give the ribbon a jerk, and draw a bunch of violets. the ribbons passing over the top of the vase will hold the vase firmly in place. apple-blossom luncheon.--for this use blossoms which are but half blown. place branches of them in glass bottles full of water and fasten with wires to the backs of the pictures in the dining-room. the sideboard should be covered with great branches put in tall cut-glass vases and low silver bowls; the mantel banked, and in the corners of the room tall japanese jars filled with great spraying branches. in the centre of the table may be placed a vase filled with pure white cherry blossoms. the candlesticks should be shaded with white and silver. back of a screen at each end of the room a lamp may be set to give a brilliant light to the flowers on the wall, without the glare of the lamp being visible. pansy luncheon.--a pretty and an original way to decorate a table with pansies when one has quantities of these flowers is to place in the centre of the table upon a glass salver an old-fashioned glass fruit-bowl on a pedestal. fill the fruit-bowl and salver with white cornmeal which has been well soaked in cold water, and in this insert the pansy stems. they should be placed as thickly as possible. around the outer edge of the salver have a border of maidenhair fern. an oblong glass dish arranged in a similar manner may be placed at each end of the table. if desired little dishes arranged in the same way may also be used. "rainy-day luncheon."--this is certainly an original idea. place an old umbrella frame vertically in a fernery and twist smilax around the frame and down each spoke. at the base of the fernery make a bed of violets as large around in circumference as the umbrella. at the luncheon hour hide a small lump of ice in the smilax at the end of each spoke, allowing it to melt and drip on the violets. this makes a pretty decoration for a luncheon, particularly if wild violets can be procured. flower party when the guests have assembled, each one is given a tiny flower-pot. these are easily made out of red paper--a long strip and a round, with the aid of the mucilage pot. in these tiny pots the following list of flowers to be guessed is tucked away: make these hidden flowers sprout . an amiable man. (sweet william) . the pulse of the business world. (stocks) . a title for the sun. (morning-glory) . a bird and a riding accessory. (larkspur) . a pillar of a building and a syllable that rhymes with dine. (columbine) . a flower between mountains. (lily of the valley) . a farewell sentiment. (forget-me-not) . a dude and an animal. (dandelion) . a part of the day. (four-o'clock) . the result of cupid's arrows. (bleeding heart) . the place for a kiss. (tulips) . a yellow stick. (goldenrod) . a product of the dairy and a drinking utensil. (buttercup) . one of the four hundred. (aster) . what cinderella should have advertised for. (lady's slipper) . a wild animal and a bit of outdoor wearing apparel. (foxglove) the list of answers is of course kept in hand by the hostess. when the first part of the game has been played and the answers verified, a continuation of the fun is a contest of all as to who can write the best verse containing in any way whatever all the above flowers. judges must be appointed, and, of course, prizes awarded for the verse contest as well as for the guessing game. this last contest may be omitted, if wished, but it adds fun and calls forth much ingenuity and cleverness. the prizes might be little potted plants, so many of which grace the florists' windows at this time of year; these for the women, and scarf-pins in the shape of flowers for the men. to select partners for refreshments, give to each lady a flower of a different variety; if it is impossible to secure a sufficient quantity of natural blossoms, paper ones will do quite as well, and these may be made at home. to the gentlemen hand cards bearing quotations referring to some flower, but inserting a blank where the name occurs. each gentleman may claim his partner when he finds the flower that fits his verse. the following are a few suggestive quotations: "a (violet) by a mossy stone half hidden from the eye." "as the (sunflower) turns on her god when he sets the same look which she turn'd when he rose." "gather ye (rosebuds) while ye may, old time is still a-flying." "and there is (pansies); that's for thoughts." "pale fear oppress'd the drooping maid-- and on her cheek the (rose) began to fade." "and the blue (gentian-flower), that, in the breeze, nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last." for the supper have a salad served in little paper boxes decorated with strips of pink tissue paper cut either in narrow slashes like the chrysanthemum petals, or in broader ones to represent the rose. ices can be obtained in many flower forms, and if to these be added real stems and leaves, the service will be as dainty and attractive as possible. flowers illustrated . buttercup. . daisy. . sunflower. . trumpet vine. . lily of the valley. . morning-glory. . violet. . dandelion. . lady's-slipper. . bachelor's-button. . aster. . tulip. . goldenrod. . cat-tail. . sweet william. . sweet peas. . ragged sailor. . bleeding heart. . poppy. . black-eyed susan. . foxglove. . queen's lace handkerchief. . bluebell. . everlasting. . marshmallow. . solomon's-seal. they are illustrated in this way: . a cup of butter. . the picture of a book, cut from a magazine, having the title blotted out, and showing only the words, "by charlotte m. yonge" (the author of "the daisy chain"). . a colored illustration of the solar spectrum. . a tin trumpet. . a picture of a valley. . a card upon which is printed " a. m." . a picture of a book upon which is written, "by julia magruder" (author of "the violet"). . the picture of a lion, to which has been added, with pen and ink, a silk hat, collar and cane. . a pair of slippers. . a variety of buttons, poorly sewed upon a piece of cloth. . a card upon which is written, "a well-known hotel and library." . photograph of a part of a face. . a slender stick, gilded. . a picture of cats. . a card with the words "dear will." . a few peas in a saucer of sugar. . a brownie sailor, torn and dilapidated. . a red paper heart. . the written words, "sleep, sweet sleep." . a picture of a girl, the eyes having been painted black. . a pair of gloves. . a dainty handkerchief. . a small bell, painted blue. . a leather advertisement under which are the words, "never wear out." . a box of marshmallows. . a large seal with the letter s. to the one who succeeds in finding the greatest number of flowers can be given a beautiful basket of roses. fourth of july museum the invitations, gay with the national colors, stated that miss blank, in order to encourage patriotism in her native town, had made a museum collection of curios connected with noted americans, and bade a choice selection of her fellow-townsmen to meet and view the rare objects. the booklets passed around among the guests upon their arrival were attractive enough, a tiny flag being painted in one corner of the cover, which also contained the legend: the fourth of july museum at miss blank's july the fourth nineteen hundred and blank. a red, white and blue ribbon held the booklet together, and at the end of this was a small white pencil. we found it best to pair off the players, for two heads are so much better than one, and it is a great satisfaction to give help to one's neighbor without fear and without reproach. each of the booklets contained a date or an event in united states history, and the man who drew the booklet containing " " became the partner of the girl who held "discovery of america." the museum specimens were arranged on tables or mounted on cards, and each one was numbered conspicuously. the following list of twenty-two names was used. it can be lengthened, or the celebrities may be otherwise represented, according to the resources of the hostess. magazine pictures of the articles may be substituted for the real thing, to simplify preparations. here is the list, which may be greatly extended: paul revere--a toy horse with rider, labeled "the horse travels best by night." abraham lincoln--two small darkies, labeled "all free." washington--a bunch of cherries, labeled "our national fruit." carrie nation--a toy hatchet, labeled "you think you know. guess again." general grant--a chocolate cigar. theodore roosevelt--a doll's rough rider hat. richmond hobson--a confectioner's "kiss." barbara frietchie--the national flag. theodore thomas--a bar of music and a street-car _conductor's_ cap. benjamin harrison--his grandfather's hat. mark twain--_two_ pencil-_marks_. p. t. barnum--a hippopotamus, labeled "the greatest show on earth." harriet beecher stowe--"uncle tom's cabin," represented by a toy negro cabin. priscilla alden--a picture of a puritan at a spinning-wheel. jefferson davis--a confederate dollar bill. william j. bryan--a silver dollar (number _sixteen_ in the collection). miss stone--the _stone_ figure of a woman, labeled "kidnapped," or a copy of stevenson's "kidnapped." joseph jefferson--a little dog, labeled "my dog schneider." nathaniel hawthorne--"the scarlet letter," represented by a medium-size red envelope. eli whitney--a cotton-gin, represented by a branch of cotton, and a bottle, labeled "pure holland gin." robert fulton--a toy steamboat. benjamin franklin--a kite and a key. the national colors may be used effectively in the decorations of the rooms or of the table, and the prizes for the winners may be silk flags, photographs of historic places or other souvenirs suggestive of the day. appropriate place-cards for a fourth of july luncheon or dinner may be made by covering small glass bottles about the size of a firecracker with red tissue paper, and filling them with little candies. by cutting the corks even with the bottles and drawing a small piece of twine through for a fuse, a clever imitation of a cracker is made. the names of the guests may be put vertically on the bottles. game of nations provide each guest with a list of questions, with spaces left for the answers. the answers consist of words ending in "n-a-t-i-o-n." here are the questions and the answers: . a popular flower. . carnation. . unruliness. . insubordination. . a gift for charitable purposes. . donation. . the installation of a king. . coronation. . resolution, or "grit." . determination. . the murder of an eminent person. . assassination. . fancy, or mental representations. . imagination. . making anything clear. . explanation. . a small surgical operation legally enforced. . vaccination. . the giving up of an office. . resignation. . a joining or putting together. . combination. . the choosing of a candidate. . nomination. the prizes should then be awarded. a pretty silk banner will be acceptable to a man, while a big bunch of red and white carnations tied with a blue ribbon, or a pound of confectionery in a box decorated with flags and other patriotic emblems will make a pretty gift for a lady. geographical game seat the players in a ring. let the first one say aloud the name of a city, mountain, river, lake, etc., located in any part of the world; the next player give a name beginning with the final letter of the previously said name, and the third supply one beginning with the final letter of the second, and so on around the ring. thus: america, athens, santiago, ohio. each player is allowed thirty seconds in which to think. if, by the end of that time, he has failed to supply a name, he must drop out of the game. the one who keeps up longest is the champion. any player, at any time, may be challenged to give the geographical location of the place he has named. if, on demand, he cannot do so he must pay a forfeit. george and martha tea the walls should be hung with red, white and blue bunting, relieved at regular intervals with shields and small hatchets made of flowers in the national colors. have george and martha receive the guests, and there may be also a number of men and women attired in colonial costumes to introduce strangers and see that all have a good time. behind a bower of foliage an orchestra might play the national airs, and as the object of the evening should be to promote sociability, it would be well to have a number of interesting games in which all can join. one of these might be a list of the presidents in anagram form, written on a large blackboard; the names in parentheses, of course, are not written out, thus: . l m jak pokes (james k. polk) . yatch lazy roar (zachary taylor) . lord film rill a me (millard fillmore) . knife lancer rip (franklin pierce) . jamb haunce ans (james buchanan) . berth your she fad (rutherford b. hayes) . c h hurt a rare set (chester a. arthur) . jasmine in horn bar (benjamin harrison) . willie m mink clay (william mckinley) . o shogging rantwee (george washington) . jam nod has (john adams) . oft john fear mess (thomas jefferson) . mard jess moan (james madison) . jo means more (james monroe) . jay chins quon dam (john quincy adams) . son rack and jew (andrew jackson) . a rum tannin verb (martin van buren) . harsh iron aim will (william h. harrison) . if gales mead jar (james a. garfield) . carver delve long (grover cleveland) . man in cab or hall (abraham lincoln) . yes glass turns (ulysses s. grant) . holy rent j (john tyler) at the end of half an hour present to the most successful guesser a george washington hat of violet candy, filled with red and white bonbons. but let the main feature of the evening be a small room fashioned into a portrait-drawing studio, the lads and lassies in charge and everything about the room having an old-time look. above the door have printed in the quaint spelling of long ago that all who wish can have a silhouette picture of themselves for only five cents, and doubtless a goodly sum will be realized, as people are always interested, not only in their own, but in their friends' physiognomy, and much fun will follow in exchanging shadow pictures. have ready a quantity of large sheets of paper, black on one side and white on the other, also white cardboard; a sheet of paper is to be fastened to the wall, white side out, and a lighted candle placed about three feet from the paper. then the one having his picture taken is seated between the candle and wall, so that a strongly defined profile falls upon the paper; the shadow is to be traced with a steady hand, cut out, and then pasted on the cardboard, with the black side of the paper out. an old-fashioned candelabrum, surrounded by a wreath of blue violets and red and white carnations, might grace the centre of the dining-table, and at either end tall silver candlesticks with candles burning under shades of a rosy hue might be placed. let the bonbons be held in boxes imitating the cocked hat of the continental army; have sandwiches of different kinds and sorts, with tiny silk flags bearing the name of the sandwich. besides these the eatables might consist of good old-fashioned gingerbread, crullers, doughnuts, and coffee, followed by apples and nuts. girls' names contest . what an army would do if it found a river too deep to ford. (bridget) . an admirable quality in a young woman. (grace) . the most prominent of easter flowers. (lily) . the time for violets. (may) . a gem. (pearl) . what papa does with the baby. (carrie) . how to write a postscript. (adaline) . the flower of june. (rose) . what a scissors-grinder and a locomotive have in common. (belle) . a virtue. (patience) . an article. (ann) . first steps in music. (dora [do-re]) . two consecutive letters of the alphabet in transposed order. (effie [f-e]) . the night before. (eve) . a little valley. (adelle) the slips are to be collected and the one having the greatest number of correct answers may be rewarded with some inexpensive souvenir. golf luncheon when our golfing enthusiast desires to entertain her golfing friends, she cannot do better than bid them to a luncheon set to the keynote of their favorite sport. naturally, the table decorations will be red and green--deep red roses or scarlet geraniums laid in flat bunches upon the "fair field" of snowy cloth and encircling the dishes, caught together by "links" of smilax. perhaps, too, pale green candles, beneath ruby-hued shades, might still further carry out the scheme of color. the table may be arranged with a "putting green" in the centre made of a square of sponge cake frosted with pistachio. a little hole should be cut in the centre. miniature caddy bags made of red satin and filled with red geraniums and ferns are pretty decorations. a little golf ball for the "putting green" can be made by covering a preserved cherry with white icing. "bunkers" can be made across the corners of the table by using fine wire netting. at each place a small caddy bag can hold the knives, forks, and spoons of the service, and in the bottom of the bag can be placed a "jackson ball"--one of those hard, striped red and white, old-fashioned candies. the bread sticks and cheese straws should be fashioned like golfing sticks, and the ices be in the form of balls, small and white. lastly, with the coffee and bonbons, are passed souvenir cards on which are daintily painted bags of golfing implements, heads of pretty girls in outing hats, or bits of rural landscape. golf players' guessing contest . a coachman. (driver) . an oriental herb. (tee) . a receptacle for the herb. (caddie) . what an impudent fellow is apt to be. (brassie) . a rustic expression for aimless working. (putter) . a bazaar, and a color. (fair-green) . the point of a pen and a lap of the tongue. (niblic) . to crush and two letters. (mashie) . a chance. (hazard) . a large social function. (ball) . a definite and an indefinite number. (foursome) . parts of a chain. (links) . a bed and to mistake. (bunker) . number twenty. (score) . little pits. (holes) the two who, within a given time, answer the most of these fifteen questions should be rewarded with appropriate prizes, as one of the handy little score books to be slipped upon the belt, containing the official score; a picture of the typical golf girl; or some volume on the popular and fascinating game. good luck party this was given by a clever maiden to a departing girl friend, but the idea could be utilized in various ways. each invitation took the form of a cordial note which was written on white note-paper bordered with pen-and-ink sketches of horseshoes, wishbones and four-leaf clovers. enclosed with each invitation was a guest card with the name of the person receiving it written in gilt at the top. below this was a row of horseshoes, also done in gilt. each guest was requested to write on this card a toast, in rhyme, to the departing friend, and to bring it to the party on the appointed evening. the decorations of the rooms upon the evening of the party were appropriate to the occasion. horseshoes gilded or covered with tin-foil hung over the folding doors and window-curtains, and depended from the chandeliers, which were draped with festoons of ribbon ornamented with wishbones and horseshoes of all sizes cut from gilt paper. a large screen standing in front of the dining-room doors was decorated with artificial clover blossoms. in the dining-room similar decorations prevailed. in the centre of the dining-table, upon a centrepiece embroidered with the emblems of good luck, stood a candelabra bearing green and white candles. encircling the centrepiece was a large horseshoe of cardboard covered with green paper. outside the horseshoe outlining it were small glasses resting on green paper clover leaves. at each corner of the table was placed a plate of delicious sugar cookies baked in the shape of four-leaf clovers; each one was topped with a gilded wish-bone. the chairs were arranged around the room in the form of a horseshoe. the main feature of the evening was the hunt for four-leaf clovers. these leaves, which were cut out of green glacé paper, had been hidden by the hostess in every nook and corner of the down-stairs rooms, and much amusement was afforded the young people as they eagerly sought them. at the conclusion of a given time the signal to stop hunting was given and each guest counted the leaves he or she had found. the one having the greatest number was presented with a dainty stick-pin in the shape of a four-leaf clover. the refreshments consisted only of ginger ale and cookies, and as her guests partook of them the hostess read aloud the toasts which had been handed to her. she presented them at the conclusion of the evening to the guest of honor. each guest was next asked to tell "the biggest piece of good luck which ever came to you." the numerous recitals given created no end of fun. when the party broke up and the good-nights were said each guest carried away as a souvenir of the occasion a bright new penny for a "luck piece." gypsy fortune-telling added to the charm and mystery of having one's fortune told is the great pleasure which may be derived from having it told by a gypsy, even though she may be an amateur. an hour of amusement may be passed very delightfully in this way, provided the hostess can make the necessary arrangements with some quick-witted, bright young girl, who will be willing to take the part of the gypsy. several days before the evening's entertainment the hostess should give her friend a list of the expected guests, with a few notes concerning their traits of character, environment, etc., and these suggestions, in addition to the knowledge of the persons which she possesses, and her own inventiveness, will give her an excellent opportunity apparently to look back in the past, and forward to the future--especially if she happen to discover that any engaged couples are to be present. the gypsy should arrive at the house of the hostess a little early on the evening of the entertainment, and be shown to an up-stairs room to don her gypsy attire. she should then descend to the dimly-lighted parlor and seat herself in readiness for the guests when they shall arrive. as the guests arrive and remove their wraps they should be received and greeted in the library or reception-room, and the hostess should then announce that a gypsy is in the parlor. having learned in some way that there was to be a large party there, she has begged the privilege of coming in to tell fortunes for the pretty ladies, so that she might earn a few pennies. the guests repair to the dimly-lighted parlor, where the gypsy is seated. as each guest advances and seats himself, the gypsy takes the extended right hand and reads the lines--improvising as she does so in broken english. hallowe'en box cake the newest fashion in hallowe'en supper-table decoration is a cake made of white pasteboard boxes, in shape like pieces of pie, which fit together and give the appearance of a large cake. each one of the boxes is covered with a white paper which resembles frosting. at the close of the feast the pieces are distributed, each box containing some little souvenir suitable to hallowe'en. one box, of course, contains a ring, another a thimble, a third a piece of silver, a fourth a mitten, a fifth a fool's cap, and so on. much fun is created as the boxes are opened, and the person who secures the ring is heartily congratulated. the unlucky individual who gets the fool's cap must wear it for the evening. hallowe'en games have a card and a candle for each guest, the candles in as many different colors as possible, and one corner of each card turned down and tied with baby ribbon--one color for ladies, and another for gentlemen. on the cards have couplets written foretelling future events, such as: who gets the candle colored red will have long life, but never wed. if you choose the candle green you'll have the prettiest wife e'er seen. for you the kind fates have a plan whereby you sure _will_ get a man. let each guest take a card and a candle (if the base of the candle is warmed it will stick to the card), read the couplet aloud, then light the candle, and holding it at arm's length blow it out. if it is blown out upon the first trial the person will be married within a year; if upon the second trial, within two years, etc. write rhymes of four or six lines on thin paper, and place in chestnut shells. tie together with ribbon, the ladies' in one color, the gentlemen's in another. if there are personal hits in the rhymes, tie the name of the person for whom each one is intended on the outside of the shell. hide a ring, a thimble and a penny in the room. to the one who finds the ring speedy marriage is assured; the thimble denotes a life of single blessedness; the penny promises wealth. have one of the young ladies who knows a little palmistry be the witch of the evening. a short, bright-hued skirt, a gay plaid shawl crossed over her shoulders, a scarf bound about her head, will make a very striking costume, and, with the aid of a little paint and powder, quite an effective disguise. if she is enough acquainted with the guests to give some personal history she can produce some very "telling" fortunes. after the witch has exhausted her ingenuity as palmist, let her offer to disclose the name of the future bride or groom of each one present, by means of the fairy mirror. the room she uses should be dimly lighted. she writes the name on a mirror with french chalk, rubs it off lightly with a silk handkerchief, and calls in the person for whom the name is written. prepare a basket of rosy cheeked apples, each with the initials of a name pricked in the skin, which names must be used in counting the apple seeds. after the supper table has been cleared of all except the decorations and candles, have a large dish filled with burning alcohol and salt brought in and placed in the centre. seated around this ghostly fire, all other lights except the candles having been extinguished, let the guests tell stirring stories rigmarole fashion; that is, some one starting the story and stopping short at its most exciting point and letting his neighbor continue it, etc., each one trying to make it as interesting as possible. hallowe'en party all formality must be dispensed with on hallowe'en. not only will quaint customs and mystic tricks be in order, but the decorations and refreshments, and even the place of meeting, must be as strange and mystifying as possible. for the country or suburban home a roomy barn is decidedly the best accommodation that can be provided. if this is not practicable, a large attic, running the entire length of the house, is the next choice; but if this also is denied the ambitious hostess, let the kitchen be the place of meeting and of mystery, with the dining-room, cleared of its usual furniture and decorated suitably for the occasion, reserved for the refreshments. the light should be supplied only by jack-o'-lanterns hung here and there about the kitchen, with candles in the dining-room. the decorations need not be expensive to be charming, no matter how large the room. large vases of ferns and chrysanthemums and umbrella stands of fluffy grasses will be desirable; but if these cannot be readily obtained, quantities of gayly tinted autumn leaves will be quite as appropriate. festoons of nuts, bunches of wheat or oats, and strings of cranberries may also help to brighten the wall decorations, and the nuts and cranberries will be useful in many odd arrangements for ornamenting the refreshment table. have the table long enough (even if it must be extended with boards the whole length of the barn or attic) to accommodate all the guests at once. arrange huge platters of gingerbread at each corner, with dishes of plain candies and nuts here and there, and pyramids of fruit that will be quickly demolished when the guests are grouped about the table. no formal waiting will be desirable. hallowe'en suggestions have mirrors everywhere: big mirrors, medium-sized mirrors, and little, wee mirrors, all reflecting and multiplying countless candles that burn in candlesticks of every description (most novel are those made from long-necked gourds and tiny squashes). across the top and down the sides of each doorway hang festoons of yellow and white corn and turn the husks back to show the firm, glistening kernels. each window can be garlanded in like manner as well as the tops of mantels and picture frames. clusters of red ears may depend from the chandeliers. here and there, in the most unexpected corners, can be placed jack-o'-lanterns, smiling or gnashing their teeth, amid great shocks of corn. the great hall and stairway can be draped with fish-nets through the meshes of which are thrust many ears of corn. a stately jack must point the guests up the stairs where two other individuals will usher them to the dressing-rooms. drape one doorway with a portière of apples--apples strung on strings of varying lengths. as the guests pass through, the tallest stoop for those suspended on the longest strings and the shortest reach for those on the short strings. those who succeed in throwing three tiny apples through the horseshoe, which is hung in the midst of these apples, are assured of phenomenal luck for the ensuing year. in another doorway hang a big pear-shaped pumpkin, on whose shining surface all the letters of the alphabet have been burned with a hot poker. keep this rapidly twirling while the guests, in turn, try to stab some letter with long meat-skewers. the letter that is hit will establish beyond question the initial letter of one's fate. place in a tub of water red, yellow and green apples. provide each guest with a toy bow and arrow. the young man or maiden who succeeds in firing an arrow into a red apple will be assured of good health; plenty of money is in store for those shooting arrows into yellow ones; and good luck is in store for those hitting the green ones. blindfold each girl present and, presenting her with a wand, lead her to a table on which have been placed flags of the different men's colleges. the flag her wand happens to touch will indicate the college of her future husband. browning nuts, popping corn, roasting apples, and toasting marshmallows will add a great deal to the pleasure of the evening. the dining-table should be draped in pale green crepe paper, the lights above being shrouded in gorgeous orange. pumpkins of various sizes should be scooped and scraped to a hollow shell and, lined with waxed paper and filled with good things to eat, should be placed in the centre of the table. lighted candles and quaint oriental lanterns will add greatly to the decorations. the menu should include bannocks, scones, and other scotch dainties. if desired, droning bagpipes might accompany the feast. after listening to ghostly tales related by white-draped figures, the guests may receive all sorts of amusing souvenirs from a large pumpkin placed on a table at the door. handkerchief bazaar of all our friends, both far and near, we beg the kind attention; so please to lend us now your ear, while we a subject mention. to carry on our c. e. work, in the country and the city, we need more money very bad, and hope you'll help us with it. the committee intend to hold on a day not distant far a sale for both the young and old,-- a handkerchief bazaar. so this, then, is our plea in brief: to aid our enterprise we beg of you a handkerchief, of any kind or size. _please send by mail before april th to_ the above invitation, which should be printed on a neat card, explains itself. the details of the bazaar may be arranged as desired. hatchet party if the hatchet party is given at home appropriate invitations can be issued in the form of a hatchet, bearing the words in quaint letters: "_ye young women's christian temperance union extends ye invitation to meete ye hatchet familie of ye anciente tyme at ye home of miss may caspel, bell avenue, on wednesday evening, ye d of februarie of ye year of our lorde , at eight of ye clock._" the decorations should conform to the spirit of the evening. a large hatchet covered with white curled tissue paper may be hung in the hall. plaques of little red, white and blue hatchets may take the place of flowers, and in the hall or reception room there should be a little table of "souvenirs." these should be little bronze hatchets with the letters y. w. c. t. u. on one side. their handles should be tied with narrow ribbon--red, white and blue--and each guest should be allowed to select his color. thus everybody has the opportunity offered to him of becoming a member by selecting the white ribbon, and in this way everybody is compelled to "show his colors." if simple refreshments are served, let the japanese napkins have a big hatchet gilded on them, and let there be some plates of hatchet cookies, formed by the cutter that any tinsmith will make from a pattern. have old-fashioned candy--peppermint, wintergreen, sassafras and molasses--instead of bonbons. play the old games--hunt the slipper, blind man's buff, hide and seek. names for the members of the hatchet family who are to receive the guests: johanna adams hatchet, tomazine jefferson hatchet, jamesina madison hatchet, jemima monroe hatchet, j. quinciana adams hatchet, andrewsia jackson hatchet, wilhemina henrietta harrison hatchet, johnesetta tyler hatchet, marty van buren hatchet, jinny keturah polk hatchet, zacherina taylor hatchet, millarella fillmore hatchet. ask the girls who impersonate these characters to come in martha washington dress, a flowered chintz or silk overdress, opening in front to show a silk or sateen skirt of a plain color, which may be quilted if desired. the waist is made to open over a white neckerchief and has elbow sleeves. a little round mob cap of muslin or lace, with a frill, a band of ribbon around it, and a coquettish bow complete the costume. ice festival to step from midsummer into winter was a surprise, when the admission ticket was dropped in the box at the door on the night of the festival and its erstwhile owner passed into the hall. small tables stood by pine and cedar trees that were covered with alum icicles and sifted over with diamond dust. here groups of friends ate their cream and cake together, served by snow spirits in white tarletan gowns that sparkled with diamond dust, or ice fays whose white costumes glittered with glass beads. on the stage, white canton flannel and diamond dust, heavy gray wrapping paper folded into rocks, trees and a rustic bridge made a realistic representation of a snowclad landscape. the pleasing program consisted of dainty dances by children dressed as snowflakes, a pretty ball game played with snowballs, recitations and songs appropriate to the winter season. another novelty was a tree covered with raw cotton snowballs, with numbers attached. these were sold for twenty-five cents--each purchaser choosing a number--and contained the small fancy articles usually sold at fairs--pincushions, needle-books, cups and saucers, etc. the windows were all screened and electric fans hidden by evergreens kept the hall from getting overheated. in one corner was a large pond, made of a shallow wooden tank surrounded by more gray paper rocks and white cotton snow, in which real cakes of ice were floating, and from which any one was at liberty to dip as much ice water as he cared to drink. this festival was a great success. inauguration day lunch the guests at this luncheon are to represent the vice-president and the eight members of the cabinet, but if the hostess wishes to entertain a larger number, she can introduce one or two of the foreign ambassadors. give to each guest, as she arrives, a card bearing the title of one of the cabinet, as the secretary of state, the attorney-general, and, if necessary, the english ambassador. while waiting for luncheon, each one must guess the name of the man she represents, in order to know her place at the table, where only the proper names, not the titles, will be used. it will be surprising to discover how few of the members of the cabinet are known by name to the majority of persons. pink carnations will be appropriate for all decorations. have a large bowl of these in the centre of the table, and at each corner lay on the cloth as a doily a spread eagle cut from gilt paper, the pattern for which can be taken from a revenue flag or a ten dollar gold piece. make the distance from tip to tip of the wings about twelve inches, and from the head to the tail seven inches. place upon the eagles dishes of olives, nuts, and pink candies. from the chandelier to the corners of the table have sound money festoons, which are made by cutting out of gilt paper a number of disks the size of a twenty-five cent piece. paste these together in pairs, first laying between them a long thread which connects them through the middle and forms a chain. for favors have cards of water-color paper painted around the edges with a festoon of pink ribbon, in which, at intervals, are knotted scrolls and documentary envelopes upon which are printed some of the principles of the republican party, such as "the monroe doctrine reaffirmed," "reduction of war taxes," "allegiance to the gold standard," etc. at the top of each card write the name of the person whom each guest is to represent. in the centre of the card will be the menu, which is as follows: post office soup the army the navy small shot agricultural salad cabinet pudding ices philippine cakes coffee a clear soup, with noodles for letters, fills the requirements of the post office. the second course is creamed sweetbreads served in small paper boxes, which stand upon large pilot crackers, or, in army language, "hard tack." a sheet of paper folded double, like an army tent, rests upon the crackers, covering the box; wooden toothpicks stuck through the sides of the tent into the paper box will prevent the former from slipping out of place, and can easily be removed after serving. on the outside of the tents paint in large, clear letters u. s. a. the crackers are to be eaten with the sweetbreads. the navy is represented by having the chicken croquettes formed in the shape of a ship, flat, and having one end pointed, the other somewhat rounding. from a druggist get two or three straws, such as are used for soda water, cut them into short lengths, and just before serving, stand two or three in each croquette to represent smokestacks. if these straws cannot be obtained, toothpick masts with paper sails will be quite as effective. the croquettes should be served with green peas--small shot--and scalloped potatoes. agricultural or vegetable salad, served in beets, makes a most attractive looking dish. beets of medium and uniform size are first boiled until tender, then peeled and placed on the ice. when cold cut off a slice at the bottom, so they will stand firm, scoop out the insides, leaving only thin walls. for the filling use peas and apples, celery and beets, cut into small pieces, and mixed well with mayonnaise; fill the beets, serving them on lettuce leaves. the cabinet pudding is that which is to be found in any cook book, baked in individual forms, and served with foamy sauce. the ices are in the form of horseshoes for good luck, and with them are the philippine cakes. these are small cakes having in the centre of each a tiny black china doll, two of which can be purchased for a cent at any toy shop. these are put in after the cake is baked and before icing, leaving them just far enough out to show the arms. the "coffee which makes the politician wise," may be served at the table or after returning to the parlor. independence day necessities . a powerful submarine weapon of offense. . a destroying element, and an accompaniment to an oyster-stew. . an ancient civilization, and a feeble means of light. . a woman's toilet necessity, and part of a wagon. . a color, and the means of warmth. . the chief implement of warfare. . a two-wheeled vehicle, and the peak of a house. . where nature's wealth is stored. . a kind of stone used in paving. . bardolph's companion in king henry iv. . one kind of headgear. . what a wise mother does not do to her baby. . a carnation with u instead of i. . a musical organization, and a long lapse of time. . an irishman's name, a disorderly uprising, and an intellectual fad. the answers are held by the hostess, of course, and are only divulged after all the guesses are in. they are as follows: answers . torpedoes. . fire-crackers. . roman candles. . pinwheels. . red fire. . guns. . cart-ridge. . mines. . flag. . pistol. . caps. . rock it (rocket). . pink p(u)nk. . band-ages. . pat-riot-ism. independence day menu soup a la americaine (potato) colonial pot roast baked tomatoes stewed corn butter beans columbia salad, with star-shaped wafers virginia corn bread independence pudding, hard sauce washington pie election cake nuts fruit coffee indian dinner party invitations may be printed or written on birch bark or paper imitations of same, or on paper cut into the shape of tomahawks, tepees, etc., and may be hand-painted if desired. decorations should be indian blankets (as portières, couch covers, and mantel draperies), indian rugs, baskets, tomahawks, bows and arrows, war clubs, chromos, colored photographs, clay or papier-mâché indian heads, plaques and busts, etc., any of which would make suitable favors. a miniature wigwam made of blankets in an out-of-the-way corner, adds effectiveness. footman and maids may be dressed in indian costumes made of burlap with bright colored trimmings and fringes; or the guests may be invited _en costume_. for table decoration a skin should be placed over table cloth through the centre of the table and upon it an indian basket filled with any red or yellow common flowers, such as marigolds or nasturtiums (red and yellow), or better still with wild flowers, red or yellow. the menu cards and name cards, of stiff ecru paper, have indian decorations in brilliant red, green and orange; the candles are also striped in the same vivid colors and the candle holders are made of corn husks. the canoe, designed for the entree, which is the chicken, is made of heavy brown paper. menu for indian dinner squaw soup (bouillon) wigwam croquettes (fish) chicken a la canoe saddle of mutton choctaw peas apache gravy arrowhead potatoes calumet squabs pappoose rolls wickiup salad (romain) prune sioux (feather cream) hiawatha cakes indian punch grasshopper cheese tomahawk coffee indoor lawn party our social committee, of which i was then chairman, wanted very much to have a lawn party; but the season for such things was quite over, as the evenings were too cool. however, a bright idea occurred to one of our number, and we decided to have an indoor lawn party. the saturday afternoon before it was to take place, four of the committee took a team, went out into the woods, and secured a lot of pine boughs, autumn leaves, etc., and monday evening, which was the evening before it occurred, we increased our force of workers, and went to the vestry to turn it, as far as possible, into an outdoor scene. we trimmed the chandeliers, posts, and every available spot with boughs, strung japanese lanterns all across the room, made a beautiful bower in one corner for the orchestra, for which we had three pieces, a piano, a violin, and a cornet. in the opposite corner of the room we had a canvas tent where fortunes were told at five cents each (by palmistry) by one of our young lady gypsies. hammocks were swung from the large stone posts, and a standing double swing was placed on one side of the room, where the younger people enjoyed themselves hugely. small tables were put into odd corners of the room, where ice cream and cake were served by ten young ladies in pretty summer costumes. lemonade was served from an old well, which was a large square box or packing case, covered with canvas, painted to represent a stone wall. to this we attached a well-sweep made from a branch of a tree, tied on a large new tin pail, and served the lemonade in small glasses at two cents a glass. during the evening we had a male quartette gather around the well and sing "the old oaken bucket," and other selections. the orchestra played the whole evening with very short intermissions. on one side of the room was arranged an artistic corner where peanuts were sold at the usual price of five cents a bag. initial characteristics . popular bishop phillips brooks . fought every wine frances e. willard . serio-comic samuel clemens . fearless navigator fridtjof nansen . won england's greatness w. e. gladstone . little misses' admiration louisa m. alcott . military suitor miles standish . rollicking bard robert burns . united states general u. s. grant . moral light martin luther . eulogizes antipodes edwin arnold . tamed ambient electricity thomas a. edison . a cunning delineator a. conan doyle . handles christians hall caine . rabid iconoclast robert ingersoll . histrionic interpreter henry irving . serpentine belle sara bernhardt . equality benefits edward bellamy . just mother's boy james m. barrie . frames many chronicles f. marion crawford . lord high celestial li hung chang . original, witty, humorous oliver wendell holmes . nipped bourbonism napoleon bonaparte . surgeon, writer, metrician s. weir mitchell . intelligent zealot israel zangwill . collected delectable writings c. d. warner . curiosity depicter charles dickens . cuba's benefactor clara barton . eminently zealous emile zola . character revealed charles reade . caused revolutionary discussion charles r. darwin . joyous lark jenny lind . fearless nurse florence nightingale . conspicuous senator charles sumner . ever frolicsome eugene field . suffrage brings advantages susan b. anthony . pens lyrical dialect paul laurence dunbar . always loyal abraham lincoln . great deed george dewey . won recent surrender w. r. shafter jack-o'-lantern party the little guests at this particular party were invited from three o'clock until seven, and when they arrived they found the rooms were darkened. the lamps had yellow shades, and as such an occasion would not be complete without pumpkin jack-o'-lanterns, there were "pumpkins large and pumpkins small, pumpkins short and pumpkins tall, pumpkins yellow and pumpkins green, pumpkins dull and those with sheen." they hung in every nook and corner. even the jardinières filled with flowers were made of them. wood was crackling and blazing in the large fireplace, as if anxious to do its part to make every one happy, and hanging from the chandelier was a branch of evergreen, with nuts suspended in such a fashion that they readily fell to the floor when given a slight shake. before this was done, however, each child was given a paper bag to hold the nuts, which tumbled in all directions. then a huge pasteboard pumpkin covered with yellow crinkled paper was brought in. i do not know what else it was made of; i only know that it looked like a real pumpkin. bright-colored ribbons hung over the sides, and when the small boys and girls took turns in pulling them, out came all sorts of comical little toys and pretty knickknacks. before supper was announced the children were given french snappers in fringed paper, in which they found either a gay cap or apron. after putting them on they marched around the parlors, out into the hall and into the dining-room, while the mother of the little girl who had planned this delightful hallowe'en party played a marching tune for them. the greatest surprise of all awaited them in the dining-room, for the walls were covered with large branches of evergreens, making it seem like "real woods"; not a chair was in the room; the little ones were invited to seat themselves on soft cushions placed on the floor, in true picnic style, and they had the jolliest time eating their picnic supper from the yellowest of yellow gourds, which had been hollowed out, lined with japanese napkins, and filled with just the things children like best. on top of each one was an apple--or at least they thought it was, until taking it in their hands, when it proved to be a bonbon box filled with delicious nut candy. then there were dainty sandwiches, pop corn balls and salad in orange baskets. but better than these were the gingerbread animals; these were so natural looking that the little ones knew right away which animals were represented. after supper they played games until seven, when they went home, laden with their bags of nuts and toys and souvenir lanterns. japanese card party invitations may be written as the natives write--up and down, instead of across, on rice paper or paper napkins; or little japanese dolls may be sent, each clasping a note of invitation. for decorations, use japanese draperies, cushions, bead curtains, rugs, baskets, swords, scrolls, umbrellas, vases, fans, lanterns, screens, bamboo tables and chairs, japanese fern balls, with tiny japanese flags and fans stuck in here and there, red, or red and white japanese lilies, ferns combined with red and yellow ribbons, etc.; or the walls of the rooms may be entirely covered with branches of trees profusely decorated with cherry blossoms made of pink paper, representing the beautiful gardens of tokio. burning japanese incense will add to the effectiveness. the playing cards used should be lacquered designs in red and yellow--starlight, sunlight, storm, japanese lady (congress brand), and japanese garden, japanese scenery, and sunset (lenox brand). for the signals a japanese gong should be used in place of a bell. the favors may be japanese fans, toys and novelties. for keeping score, japanese paper fans may be had in pairs (for finding partners), and punched with a conductor's punch for games won. or japanese dolls may be used, punching their paper kimonos. for prizes, select japanese incense burners, vases, cloisonné, tablewares, white metal and bronze novelties, lacquer goods, handsome fans, or embroidered kimonos. the refreshments may be served from a buffet--the guests seated japanese fashion on floor cushions--and may include rice cakes; tea punch; tea as a beverage; "japanese" salad, made of all kinds of vegetables, served in inverted japanese umbrellas; cherry sherbet; japanese nuts, etc. japanese sociable the invitations to a japanese sociable should be written as the natives write, up and down, instead of across, and have a cherry blossom or a japanese lady in water-colors in one corner of each. the guests should be informed beforehand that each one is to tell something or read something about japan, any little item of interest that may have been heard or read, a pretty poem or a little story. the hostess and whoever assists her in receiving should wear kimonos and have tiny fans in their hair. seats in a japanese corner may easily be arranged of boxes with portières thrown over them. numerous cushions may be piled on these improvised couches and on the floor. a japanese parasol may be hung in the corner, tilting forward to form a canopy, and the walls be hung with bead curtains. the odor from burning joss sticks will contribute to the realness of the affair. japanese lanterns should hang about the room. after the stories have been told tiny bits of paper and pencils may be passed and each one present should write down the name of the one who did best according to her opinion. a japanese cup and saucer are presented to the one who receives the most votes. a pretty decorative idea for a japanese sociable is to cover entirely the walls of the room with branches of trees, with cherry blossoms made of pink paper--their color in japan--scattered profusely over them, the scene representing the beautiful gardens of tokio. if musicians are to be present they may be screened by a lattice covered with gold paper, and vines intertwined, while tiny incandescent lights shine through. souvenirs may be distributed from a jinrikisha covered with the cherry blossoms. the dining-room may be readily transformed into oriental style with very little trouble. in place of the usual tea-table have several tabourettes, each holding a teapot, cups and saucers, lemon and sugar wafers, and japanese napkins. a cushion made of matting should be placed on the floor before each tabourette. those who serve should be in japanese costume. paper cherry blossoms, fastened to tree branches, and lanterns would make effective decorations. if it is desired to have a more elaborate menu, it may be served on japanese plates, and should consist of sandwiches folded in japanese napkins, vegetable salad, and rice in some form. for dessert serve sherbet, calling it "cherry blossom ice," and with it have wafers. tea and japanese nuts may be served last to complete the japanese idea. literary contest have small tables numbered and arranged to seat four or six persons. select for each table a judge, who will distribute the cards and blanks. these judges hold the keys to the contests, so that they may be able to mark the players correctly. give each player a card attached to a piece of baby ribbon that may be fastened in the buttonhole. upon these cards the number of points gained may be written, punched with a ticket punch, or marked with fancy wafers of different colors. the cards must be numbered to correspond with the tables, and as many number one cards provided as there are players at table number one, and so on. when the players are seated at the tables which correspond in number with the number upon their cards, let the judges distribute blank paper and pencils, also copies of the questions comprised in the several contests, among the players at their respective tables. a different contest must be prepared for each one of the tables. when everything is ready the hostess of the evening should tap a bell for "silence," and announce that ten minutes will be given for each contest; that at the first tap of the bell all must begin to write their answers out, numbering them according to the numbers on the questions; at the second tap the judges are to collect the answers at their respective tables and mark on each player's card the number of points made. the system of marking is as follows: each player is given as many marks as he has answered questions correctly, and the totals are summed up at the end of the game. during the progress of the game there must be no talking nor any questions asked. at the third tap of the bell the players at table number one go to table number two, and so on, those at the last table moving up to table number one. this progression continues until all the players have had their opportunity to answer all the questions in the contests. at each change blank paper is distributed, and a bell rung as in the first instance. when the round has been completed the points are counted and the prizes awarded. a popular book makes an excellent first prize; a box of candy in the shape of a book, a second; and a "primer," a third. the following are the various contests: contest no. the charming heroine, my friends, was known as ---- ("alice of old vincennes"). she lived when indians were a power, and not ---- ("when knighthood was in flower"). and in those past times, quaint and olden, she fell in love with ---- ("eben holden"). then, while her friends began to marvel a rival came, named ---- ("richard carvel"). each rival his keen sword did draw, and heeded not ---- ("the reign of law"). they slew each other, alas! and then she married a man named ---- ("crittenden"). the merry bells rang loud in the steeple and loudly cheered ---- ("the voice of the people"). the two rode away on a double bike and lived in ---- ("stringtown on the pike"). they did not gossip with each neighbor, but each one did ---- ("the portion of labor"). contest no. _write out the following quotations correctly:_ . beauty is always a thing of joy. . let us therefore get up and go to work. . the man who steals my pocketbook gets very little. . every one who knows you, loves you. . do pretty and you'll be pretty. . god keeps the shorn lamb from the wind. key . a thing of beauty is a joy forever. . let us then be up and doing. . who steals my purse steals trash. . none knew thee but to love thee. . handsome is that handsome does. . god tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. contest no. _heroes and heroines--in what books do they figure?_ key . john ridd. "lorna doone." . agnes wakefield. "david copperfield." . pomona. "rudder grange." . dorothea brooke. "middlemarch." . dorothy manners. "richard carvel." . glory quayle. "the christian." contest no. _fill blank spaces with titles of popular novels_ in the little village of s---- o-- t-- p----, f---- f-- t---- m---- c----, lived the h----. p---- s----. with him resided his lovely ward, j---- m----. she was a---- o----f---- g----, and knew little of t---- w----, w---- w----. she had, however, a p---- o---- b---- e---- and g---- e----. among her admirers were r---- c----, j---- h----, and t---- l---- m----. key in the little village of "stringtown on the pike," "far from the madding crowd," lived the "hon. peter sterling." with him resided his lovely ward, "janice meredith." she was "an old-fashioned girl," and knew little of "the wide, wide world." she had, however, "a pair of blue eyes" and "great expectations." among her admirers were "richard carvel," "john halifax," and "the little minister." contest no. _synonyms for names of literary men_ key . severe. sterne. . strong. hardy. . sombre. black. . jeweler. goldsmith. . crossing-place. ford. . rapid. swift. contest no. _the answers to these questions are the names of authors_ key . when we leave here we go to our what? holmes. . what dies only with life? hope. . what does a maiden's heart crave? lover. . what does an angry person often raise? caine. . what should all literary people do? reade. . if a young man would win what should he do? sue. contest no. _give the name of--_ key the most cheerful author. samuel smiles. the noisiest author. howells. the tallest author. longfellow. the most flowery author. hawthorne. the holiest author. pope. the happiest author. gay. the most amusing author. thomas tickell. the most fiery author. burns. the most talkative author. chatterton. the most distressed author. akenside. again, the hostess may prepare a certain number of blank cards, with the heading on each one "who and what?" on a second lot of cards she can have pasted the pictures of some noted writers--thackeray, dickens, scott, dumas, balzac, tolstoi, browning, george eliot, carlyle, longfellow, cooper, emerson, bryant, holmes. the pictures of more recent writers will answer her purpose just as well. these pictures can be obtained from illustrated catalogues of books. of these cards there should be as many as there are guests if the company be a small one, or as many cards as the hostess may desire; a dozen is a very good number. supply each guest with one of the blank cards and a pencil and then start into circulation the cards on which are pasted the pictures of the authors. let the guests pass the cards from one to another, and write down, according to the number on the picture-card, and opposite the corresponding number on their own, the name of each author and some book he has written. this will be found a more difficult task than one imagines, and numerous guesses will doubtless go wide of the mark. the one whose card is filled out correctly, or the nearest to it, may be presented with a copy of some late popular book, and a toy book might be used as a booby prize. literary evening in the note of invitation each one should be requested to wear something suggestive of a book title. upon arrival, each guest should be furnished with a card bearing the names of the entire company. when one fancies he has discovered a title, he should say nothing about it, but write the title opposite the name of the impersonator. when as much time has been given to this part of the program as has been thought desirable, the hostess calls the company to order and reads aloud a correct list of names and titles, and each corrects his card accordingly; or, still better, let the cards be exchanged, so that each must correct that of his neighbor, which will relieve the victor of the necessity of announcing his own success. the guests may represent their titles in as inexpensive or as elaborate a way as they choose. she who represents "rose in bloom" need only wear a full-blown rose. "sentimental tommy" wears a scotch cap bearing the words "from thrums" on the front, and, when talking, finds many opportunities of informing his questioners, "i'll find a w'y!" "the hidden hand" may be represented by a gentleman who carries his hand in a sling concealed from view. "a penniless girl" is easily represented by a girl carrying an empty purse open and suspended at her belt. "the woman in white," "little red riding hood," and "the scarlet letter" are all easily represented. three small white wings tied together with a ribbon represents very well "white wings" by william black. it is not desirable that the costume speak too plainly of the title selected, for the guests are expected to question one another regarding their peculiarities, and so they must be well informed as to the books they represent. an appropriate menu for a literary evening follows: menu "and like a lobster boiled."--_butler._ (lobster a la newburg.) "what first i want is daily bread."--_john quincy adams._ (bread and butter.) "you are lovely leaves."--_herrick._ (lettuce salad.) "i will use the olive."--_shakespeare._ (olives.) "my choice would be vanilla ice."--_holmes._ (ice cream.) "water with berries in it."--_anon._ (coffee.) "oh, that i were an almond salted!"--_merrill._ (salted almonds.) literary people write the questions on red cards and the answers on white. have each question and answer numbered in succession. let the gentlemen select the red and the ladies the white cards, and when the gentlemen read the questions, let the ladies read the answers. this is also a good way to match partners for refreshments. . what flower did alice cary? pansy. . what did eugene fitch ware? john godfrey saxe. . what does anthony hope? to marietta holley. . what happens when john kendrick bangs? samuel smiles. . why did helen hunt jackson? because she wanted him to dr. o. w. holmes. . what did charles dudley warner? not to go into a boat and let e. p. roe. . why was rider haggard? because he let rose terry cooke. . why is sarah grand? to make ik marvel. . why is george canning? to teach julia ward howe. . what ailed harriet beecher stowe? bunyan. . what is it william macy? how thomas knox. . when did mary mapes dodge? when george w. cutter. . what will turn john locke? francis s. key. . when is marian evans cross? when william dean howells. . when did thomas buchanan read? just after winthrop mackworth praed. . what did julia mcnair wright? judge joseph story. . what did eugene j. hall? charles carleton coffin. . what is james warden owen? what ten pounds of hezekiah butterworth. . where did henry cabot lodge? in mungo park, on thomas hill. . how long will samuel lover? until justin windsor. . what gives john howard payne? when robert burns augustus hare. measuring party the giving of such a party is a pleasing way of raising money for some charitable object. the invitations should read somewhat like the following: _you are cordially invited to attend a measuring party to be given by the east end connett y. w. c. t. u. at the home of the president, mrs. herbert b. linscott, monday evening, october th, ._ below, this verse should be printed: a measuring party we give for you, 'tis something pleasant as well as new. the invitation carries a sack, for use in bringing or sending back five cents for every foot you're tall, measure yourself against the wall. an extra cent for each inch you'll give, and thereby show how high you live. then with music and song, recitation and pleasure, we will meet one and all at our party of measure. with each invitation should be sent a tiny bag made of a bit of silk or ribbon. on the night of the entertainment, these bags with the money that has been placed in them are brought by the guests and deposited in a large bowl at the door. the party then proceeds in the usual manner. care should be taken to carry out the program suggested in the last two lines of the above verse. much amusement may be created by having some one appointed to take various measurements of the guests attending, such as the length of the nose, size of the head, size of the hand, etc. medical sociable procure the small glass vials used by homoeopathic physicians. on the outside of each one paste a narrow slip, on which is written the name of some trouble for which the bible offers a remedy. on another slip write the bible verse which gives the cure. roll it up, and run a thread through it which is fastened to the cork. here are some suggestions: discouragement, ps. : ; sadness, ps. : ; pain, rev. : ; doubt, despair, anger, impatience, laziness, unruly tongue, loneliness, sleeplessness, weakness, pride, bitterness, covetousness. the corresponding bible references will easily be found by using a concordance. have one corner of the room arranged for a drug-store. each person will receive from the "store" one bottle and the cork belonging to a different bottle. he must hunt till he has discovered the "medicine" (cork and paper) belonging to his own bottle, and has delivered the cork he holds to the proper bottle. have papers read on the care of the body and the care of the soul, and also bible-readings on miracles of healing. later have some one, who has looked up the subject beforehand, read a list of some of the most interesting scripture references to various parts of the body. these can readily be hunted out with the help of a concordance. some of the old testament references will be found to be very quaint indeed. decorate the room with mottoes, such as: "is there no balm in israel, is there no physician there?" medical trunk "in my wonderful trunk i have two very tall tropical trees (palms); something used by an artist (palette [palate]); weapons of war (arms); many wild animals, and two domestic ones (hares [hairs], calves); something worn by a king (crown); a bright garden flower (tulips [two lips]); a musical instrument (drum); two fish and many shell fish (soles, muscles); branches of trees (limbs); a student (pupil); something used in ship-building (ribs); whips without handles (lashes). a product of a spruce-tree (gum); something used by carpenters (nails); a part of a clock (hands); a large wooden box (chest); part of a wagon (tongue); something grown on a cornstalk (ears); a part of a shoe (heel); ten spanish gentlemen (ten dons [tendons]); part of a nail (head); weather cocks (vanes [veins]); two kitchen utensils (pans [knee]); part of a knife (blade [shoulder]); edge of a saw (teeth); terms used in voting (ayes and noes [eyes and nose]); covering of an apple (skin); a certain measure (feet); something seen in accidents (blood); a part of a house (roof [of the mouth]); covers to pails (lids); something used in upholstering (tow [toe]); part of a stove-pipe (elbow); a part of a table (legs); something served with ice cream (lady fingers); a kind of deer (hart [heart]); part of a river (mouth); something used by negro minstrels (bones); best part of a goose (back); part of a ship (side); a narrow strip of land (neck); hotel steps (inn steps [insteps])." military sociable this is a form of entertainment suitable for independence day. "military checkers," played at small tables, may furnish appropriate amusement. each table is named for some fort: "fort ticonderoga," "fort duquesne," etc. though the players "progress" from one table to another, all their honors are counted as belonging to the fort of their first allegiance, to which table they return each time they win. the prizes may be in any form suggestive of independence day. an enameled pencil in the shape of a firecracker, or flag-shaped cuff-links, would do for the man's prize, and a cracker-jar for the lady's prize. the piazza should be strung with colored lanterns, which can be lighted when the guests are in the dining-room at supper. the dining-room may be simply decorated with red roses and vines, and the dining-room table in the same way, a big blue-and-white bowl in the centre of the table holding the roses. these roses should be bright red in color. small flags serve as doilies, and the china used should be blue-and-white. the candlesticks upon the table hold white candles; the shades should be red, and streamers of blue ribbons are tied about the base of the candles, falling with graceful effect over the brightly polished candlesticks. the bonbons are placed upon the table in two small raffia baskets. each bonbon is tied about with a band of baby-ribbon. when the supper is nearly over the baskets of bonbons are passed, one to the men and the other to the ladies. each guest takes one candy, and it is found that no two in one basket have the same colored ribbon. each confection in the men's basket, however, has a mate in the ladies' basket, and in this way partners are found for the old-time virginia reel, which is danced on the piazza. as a jolly ending to the fun the men of the party set off some fireworks. morning glory fair at a recent church fair the flower-booth attracted special notice. it was decorated with morning glories made of crepe paper, in different colors. the flowers were profusely twined among the spruce boughs that formed the top of the booth, and were extremely effective and very natural. the flower-girls wore large hats with morning glory trimming, and were in light summer dresses. all the other tables were similarly decorated, and those in charge wore morning glories in profusion, twined in the hair and falling in graceful festoons from skirt and bodice. morning glory tea was served from a small table, over which stood a large japanese umbrella covered with the flowers; the cups carried out the color scheme of the flowers. each person purchasing a cup of tea was presented with a flower as a souvenir of the occasion. mother goose game during the evening a slip of paper is handed to each guest with the name of one of the mother goose characters upon it. the hostess retains a list of these, and calls each in turn to repeat within the space of one minute the familiar verse relative to this character. failing to do this a forfeit must be paid. the one who is most prompt in responding correctly may receive as a prize a goose-quill pen; and the one who fails, a copy of "mother goose." just before refreshments are served the "goose drill" may be participated in to the time of a march, and the couples proceed to the refreshment room, where they are served with the following: . shared by the walrus and carpenter. (oysters) . a king's dish. (bird pie) . a queen's lunch. (bread and honey) . taffy's spoils. (beef sandwiches) . the golden eggs. (egg sandwiches) . old woman's broom. (cheese-straws) . what the baker made. (rolls) . sample of the pieman's ware. (washington cake-pie) . jack-a-dandy's delight. (plum cake) . what the ships brought. (apples and comfits) the numbered list of refreshments should be printed upon small cards, which may be retained as souvenirs of the occasion. the guests order what they choose. the key is retained by the hostess. musical card party a good color scheme for this affair is brown and yellow. invitations may be in the form of a scroll, engraved with a selection from some favorite opera, or may represent the "g" clef in brown and yellow water colors. for decorations use yellow flowers, yellow shaded lights and yellow and brown hangings. tally cards may be painted to represent different musical instruments, such as violins, guitars, mandolins, etc.; or miniature tambourines and banjos may be used for scoring, hung by long loops of ribbon over the shoulders, and becoming before the close of the evening gayly decked with ribbons--yellow for the winners and brown for the losers. musical quotations in halves may designate partners. for prizes, musical pictures in brown coloring, burnt wood plaques of famous musicians, a flemish musical stein in brown and yellow, a brown leather music roll tied for the occasion with yellow streamers, musical novels, an upright piano candy box with the key board movable to show the candy inside, etc., may be used. toy music boxes and grotesque musical instruments make amusing booby prizes. a triangle, like those for orchestral playing, may indicate progressions, instead of a bell. for a brown and yellow menu: brown croquettes potato balls brown breadsticks chicken salad, yellow mayonnaise orange ice cream, served in orange-peel baskets chocolate cake chocolate icing chocolate and lemon bonbons yellow cheese balls coffee, with yellow whipped cream musical evening the invitations should be sent in small imitation music rolls, and headed with a line of appropriate music. as each guest enters he receives a long, narrow strip of pasteboard, bearing a portion of some familiar song, both words and music. each card bears a number, and the eight whose cards are numbered alike are instructed to get together and practice to sing a verse formed by the union of their eight cards. a bell calls them to order, judges are appointed, and each group sings its song, a pianist accompanying them. while the judges are preparing their verdict, a short musical program may be rendered. a bouquet of flowers may be presented to the group whose musical effort is considered the best. the bouquet may consist of eight small buttonhole bouquets, one for each member of the group. make a list, numbering from one to twenty, of tunes that are perfectly familiar to every one. "yankee doodle," "america," "annie rooney," or any of the later popular songs, are some of the airs that are known everywhere. number as many cards as there are guests, with twenty numbers on consecutive lines. these, with pencils, are distributed to the people as they arrive. an accomplished pianist then plays snatches of each tune, in the order that the list calls for. just enough of the piece is played to let the melody be indicated. each person, as the air is played, puts down against the number on the card what he thinks the tune is. at the end the cards are collected, and prizes given to the most successful. to match partners, write the notes of a bar or two of some well-known melody on the lady's card, and the balance on the gentleman's card. musical guessing contest . used on a bundle. (chord [cord]) . a place of residence. (flat) . a reflection on character. (slur) . bottom of a statue. (bass [base]) . an unaffected person. (natural) . used in driving horses. (lines) . what makes a check valid. (signature) . what we breathe every day. (air) . seen on the ocean. (swells) . what betrays nationality. (accent) . an association of lawyers. (bar) . used in climbing. (staff) . part of a sentence. (phrase) . belonging to a fish. (scales) . used in wheeling. (pedals) . a girl's name. (grace) . used in flavoring soup. (time [thyme]) . often passed in school. (notes) . used in a store. (counters) . an instrument not blunt. (sharp) musical romance the young hostess announced that a love story of the civil war would be related in musical numbers, and to the one who should best interpret them a prize would be awarded. all were provided with cards and pencils and a young woman seated herself at the piano. the hostess then asked "what was the heroine called?" whereupon the familiar notes of "sweet marie" were heard, and it began to be understood that the names of popular airs--given with much spirit by the pianist--would furnish the answers to the questions propounded, to be recorded upon the cards. the story progressed thus: what was the hero's name? "robin adair." where was he born? "dixie." where was she born? "on the suwanee river." where did they meet? "comin' thro' the rye." at what time of day was it? "just as the sun went down." when did he propose? "after the ball was over." what did he say? "only one girl in this world for me." what did she say? "i'll leave my happy home for you." what did he then bid her? "a soldier's farewell." what did the band play? "the girl i left behind me." where did he go? "georgia." where did he spend that night? "tenting on the old camp ground." what did the band play when he came home? "when johnny comes marching home." where were they married? "old kentucky home." who were the bridesmaids? "two little girls in blue." who furnished the music? "whistling rufus." who furnished the wedding feast? "rosie o'grady." where did they make their home? "on the banks of the wabash." what was their motto? "home, sweet home." where did they always remain? "america." the music was a new feature, and the fact that the airs were so well known made it the more enjoyable. the advantage of the winner being so slight, the pleasure of success was the more general. * * * * * after supper the hostess said that if they were not tired of guessing she had another game to propose--a sort of fortune-telling game which would give each man present the name that his future wife should bear. it was for him to discover it. the first name was told to make the subject clear--which was that a chemist's wife should be named "ann eliza." then they were told to guess the name of a civil engineer's wife (bridget); a gambler's (betty); a humorist's (sally); a clergyman's (marie); a shoemaker's (peggy); a sexton's (belle); a porter's (carrie); a dancing-master's (grace); a milliner's (hattie); a gardener's (flora); a judge's (justine); a pugilist's (mamie); a pianist's (octavia); a life-saver's (caroline); an upholsterer's (sophy); an astronomer's (stella); a doctor's (patience); a fisherman's (netty); a gasman's (meta); a marksman's (amy). each man could judge, from his occupation, the name of his future wife. musical terms illustrated have some one play these songs: "star spangled banner," "marching through georgia," "columbia, the gem of the ocean," "battle hymn of the republic," "tramp, tramp, tramp," "hail columbia," "home, sweet home," "yankee doodle," "when johnnie comes marching home again," "auld lang syne," "america." no titles are announced, but the guests are asked to guess the names and write them in order upon slips of paper. following each piece of music some musical term is illustrated. these terms, with the means employed to illustrate them, are as follows: "time," some one hold up a small clock; "measure," a yardstick; "key," a door-key; "flats," two flatirons; "lines," a pair of nursery lines; "sharps," a carving set; "tie," a gentleman's tie; "bars," small clothes-bars; "staff," a cane; "a whole note," a dollar; "a half note," a half dollar; "a quarter note," a silver quarter. musicians buried . there were verd isles and tender blue of summer skies. . maud muller raked the hay, deny it not, o judge. . the bell in ivy tower rings knell of passing day. . i arrive, king, most gracious sovereign. . she still wears her old smile--the sweet, modest maiden. . the mother of charlie ross in idle dreams still clasps him. . we berate our neighbors soundly, but excuse ourselves. . how famous the cherub in ideal art. . there will be no confab to-night. . if he asks your hand, eliza, do not say nay. . be brief; lo, toward life's setting sun, man hastens. . you've dropped a beet--ho, vender, heigh. . the dog spies a cat, and it makes his tail wag nervously. . a beau, berrying, needs a basket and a sweetheart. . my chop i never eat with peas. . you have found an egg, lucky boy. . liz still improves from day to day. . whoever else leaves, the co. stays in most firms. . cattle enjoy herbal feeding grounds. . i do not care a sou, sarah, whether you will, or not. key to musicians buried . verdi. . hayden. . bellini. . rive king. . herold. . rossini. . weber. . cherubini. . abt. . handel. . flotow. . beethoven. . wagner. . auber. . chopin. . gluck. . lizst. . costa. . balfe. . sousa. _note:_--the letters composing the names of the sought-for musicians come successively together but the name may begin and end in different words. mystical dinner menu _menu_ _key_ soups . capital of portugal . pea . an imitation reptile . mock turtle fish . the largest part of sambo's feet . sole . an express label . cod game . a universal crown . hare . portion of a mountain range . partridge . a tailor's tool . goose . to shrink from danger . quail roast meat . a genial english author . lamb . a country of the crescent . turkey boiled meat . one of noah's sons . ham . woman's best weapon . tongue vegetables . to steal mildly . cabbage . complete upsets . turnips . what successful candidates do . beet . two kinds of toes not found on man or beast . potatoes and tomatoes relishes . pertaining to regions underground . celery . comical performances . capers . elevated felines . catsup puddings . what we say to impertinent agents . say go . exactly perpendicular . plumb . the mantle of winter . snow . what the lawyer says to his clients . suet pies . to walk in an affected manner . mince . a relative of the dairyman . pumpkin fruit . the historian's delight . dates . water in motion . currants . small shot (plural) . grapes mystical party _the y. w. c. t. u. has cordially invited you to the mystery reception, strange and weird beyond conception. at seven-thirty o'clock night fall we will welcome one and all; with solemn rites and grewsome sights, we'll meet you all on monday night. street and number._ all those who take part in this should arrive early and have everything in shape when the guests appear. first, each one should wrap a white sheet over her and wear a small white mask. have all the lights turned low or have candles, and on the gas jets or candles have red paper shades to cast a red, gloomy light over everything. have each one who takes part stand like a statue, and dispose these statues about the house in corners and in dark places. as the guests arrive have one of the white clothed figures meet them at the door, and without a word, motion them to take off their wraps, and then to enter the next room. if possible get some bones from a medical college and have skulls and cross bones all about the room. in one dark room should be skulls and pumpkins with faces cut in them and candles inside. do not have any other light in this room. when the guests go into this room have some small pieces of ice wrapped in muslin presented to them to be felt of in the dark. all this time the statues should be quiet and remain so until all the company has arrived. then seat all the statues at a large table with a small candle or a dish of burning alcohol in the centre and have each one tell a weird story. have a witch in a dark room with a dish of burning alcohol and have the guests, one at a time, go in to have their fortunes told. tricks of different kinds can be played upon the guests. the program for the mysterious company consists of a number of contests in which eyesight gives place to the sense of touch. first of all the hostess produces a book printed in the raised lettering for the blind and suggests that each guest read ten lines from it. this is no easy matter. to the contestant reading the ten lines correctly in the shortest time a prize is awarded. for the second trial of skill the guests may gather around a circular table. beneath the table place a covered box or basket containing the most variously assorted small articles that it is possible to secure upon the spur of the moment, the more unexpected the better. no player must see the articles placed in the basket. when all is in readiness the objects are taken from the basket and passed rapidly from hand to hand below the table, ending in the hands of the hostess, and by her are placed in an empty bag provided for the purpose. distribute pencils and ask the guests to write down as many of the objects passed under the table as they can remember. a prize should be provided for the person who hands in the fullest list of the objects. next blindfold each guest in turn and place in his hands, one at a time, various objects, the names of which are to be guessed aloud. if curious and unfamiliar objects are selected, this will prove very amusing. new year's eve party this is a favorite occasion for a party among young people. it should be a small party, not over twenty-four guests, and it will be the more enjoyable if informal and among those who are well acquainted with each other. there are as varied entertainments for such parties as for those at other seasons. a pretty idea is to confine the list to twelve young gentlemen and twelve young ladies. the hostess requests each couple to dress so as to represent a particular month, which she assigns them. duck trousers, cotton neckties, and white vests are as distinctive of summer for the young men, as shirt-waists, duck skirts, and lawn are for young women, but it will take some ingenuity to devise an effect that will mark a particular month. the guests should not assemble until nine o'clock. there should be a large clock conspicuously placed in the room, and if possible an open fireplace, with a bright fire on the hearth. the first part of the time should be taken up in guessing the months, the company gathering before the open fire in a circle. as fast as one month is decided upon, the one who impersonates it rises, makes his or her bow to the company, and recites at least four original lines pertaining to that month. the more ridiculous or witty they are, the better they will be appreciated. after this comes the supper, which may be as elaborate or as simple as desired, and then a promiscuous mixing of the months will cause some merriment. just as the clock is striking twelve, there is a knock at the door. upon opening it, there is revealed a young man dressed as a baby, in a long white dress tied about with a sash on which is printed january , --. if properly planned, the appearance of this new year baby will cause shouts of merriment. hand shakings and new year's greetings follow, and the party is over. new year's resolutions this game is played by providing each guest a paper and pencil, and having ten letters of the alphabet read to the company. these are to be copied, the guests are told to write a new year's resolution of ten words, each beginning with one of the letters used, in the order in which they are given out. these importuned resolutions, when read, will afford much amusement. new year's sociable as the guests come in, each one is requested to sign his name in a note-book, and to write underneath it a new year's resolution. an entire page should be allowed for each one, so that no one may know what his neighbor has written. each guest should be given a card inscribed with an appropriate quotation, such as "time and tide wait for no man." these cards are numbered. these are passed around among the company, with the explanation that each guest is to amuse the company for the length of time it takes for the sand to run in a minute glass from one end to the other (have a minute glass in room), using for the purpose of entertainment some thought suggested by the quotation on his card. one can recite a poem, another tell a story, another sing a song, and so on until every one has done his share for the amusement of the others, following in order according to the numbers on the cards. after each one has done his part the hostess announces that she will now do hers and proceeds to read each resolution that has been written in the book. the names of the writers being given, it will cause much merriment. nut shells set sailing two by two in a basin of water may be named, one for a man, the other for a girl. if they keep together, it is an indication that the pair will be married before the year dies, but if they separate, the fate of the twain is sealed for one year. nineteenth century game in this game of guess the contestants are told that each question can be replied to with the name of a celebrity who has lived in, or whose life has extended into, the nineteenth century. each guest is given a little tablet with his name written on every one of the pages. two minutes are allowed to each question. the questioner sits with a big bowl before her, into which, when she calls time, each player drops a slip upon which he has written his answer. this is the list that the questioner reads, omitting, of course, the answers: why did england so often lose her way in south africa? (mr. rhodes) what did the emperor of china do when the empress usurped the throne? (custer) what did isaac watch while his father was forging a chain? (abraham lincoln) what is li hung chang credited with being? (schley) the lane that has no turning is a what? (longstreet) what does a chinese lover say when he proposes? (dewey) what does aguinaldo keep between himself and the americans? (miles) what happens when the wind blows in spiders' houses? (webster) what did buller unfortunately do? (bragg) what do the waves do to a vessel wrecked near shore? (beecher) what does a ship do to a seasick man? (rockefeller) what did uncle sam do when he wanted to know whether england would let him mediate? (astor) what is the chair-boy likely to do to the old lady he has to push on a hot day? (wheeler) what is a novel military name for a cook? (kitchener) what do you do when you drive a slow horse? (polk) when do you get up to see a sunrise? (early) when max o'rell gets on a platform what does he do? (speaker reed) what does a waiter do after he has filled half of the glasses at a table? (fillmore) in the settlement of disputes, do the european nations quarrel? (general lee) the towns taken by the british generally lacked the what? (garrison) what did the jews say when the mother of samuel passed? (mark hanna) in cairo purchases are made at a what? (booth) nose and goggle party to fun-loving people who enjoy the grotesque, great sport will be found in giving a nose and goggle party. here two objects will be gained: merriment and disguise. as the guests arrive, disguised as explained below, each is given a card, perforated, with ribbon run through, in order to wear the card around the neck, so that everybody can see it. the cards must have, on one side, a number by which each guest is known; on the other side, a list of figures, , , , etc. (as many figures as there are guests), leaving space opposite each figure for a name. in social conversation each guest is to guess who his or her entertainer is. with intimate friends, this may be done readily by familiarity with the voice; but in most cases the identification will not be easy. each guest wears a false nose and goggles. the nose may be purchased, or made by clever fingers, of heavy cardboard covered with chamois. the noses and goggles must not be removed till after refreshments, which may be simple or elaborate as the hostess may wish. as you make your guess, place the name opposite the number on your card corresponding to the number of the person with whom you are talking; for instance, if you think you know no. , turn your card and write the name opposite no. , etc. noted people cut out pictures of noted men and women from newspapers and magazines, paste on white paper, and number each one. provide each guest with paper and pencil, having the paper contain a list of numbers corresponding to those on the pictures. the guests are then requested to write opposite the correct number the name of the person whom each picture represents. a good idea is to have pictures pinned upon the wall, curtains, and in every convenient place about the rooms, as the guests will then be obliged to move about, and there will be no danger of wallflowers. after each one has been given plenty of time for guessing, the correct list can be read aloud by one person, each guest passing his paper to his neighbor for correction. a prize may be given to the one who has the most correct answers. in connection with this, the game of noted people can be played. have small slips of paper with the names of noted people written upon them, and pin one of these on back of each guest; he is to guess whom he represents by means of questions put to him by other guests. this is great fun, and causes much merriment among the young people. as soon as a player guesses whom he represents a new slip can be put on his back. a prize may be given the one who guesses the most names. nut conundrums before the guests arrive hide nuts all over the rooms in every nook and corner. at a given signal have the guests search for them and the one finding the most can be given a small prize. take english walnuts, split and take out the kernel; write quotations on small slips of paper, cut in half, put one-half paper in one nut shell, the other half in another shell, gluing each shell together. during the evening give one set of half quotations to the girls, the other set to the boys and then have them hunt for their partners; when found, each pair have refreshments together. have the following nut conundrums guessed, after which serve all kinds of mixed nuts. conundrums . what nut grows nearest the sea? (beechnut) . what nut grows the lowest? (groundnut) . what nut is the color of a pretty girl's eyes? (hazelnut) . what nut is good for naughty boys? (hickory) . what nut is like an oft told tale? (chestnut) . what nut grows on the amazon? (brazil nut) . what nut is like a naughty boy when sister has a beau? (pecan) . what nut is like a chinaman's eyes? (almond) . what is the favorite nut in ohio? (buckeye) . what nut is like a good jersey cow? (butternut) . what is the mason's favorite nut? (walnut) . what nut cannot the farmer go to town without? (wagon nut) nut party invitations may be slipped inside peanut or english walnut shells, glued together, and sent in a small box. the shops are showing big english walnuts, parisian almonds and spanish peanuts, filled with confections in imitation of the genuine nut meats, which make attractive prizes or favors. a novelty in silver represents an english walnut (exact size), "all in a nutshell," which contains powder, puff, mirror, miniature scent bottle, and pincushion; a silver peanut contains a "magic" pencil or small vinaigrette; thimble cases, bangles, tape measures, etc., come in nut designs; a small lace-trimmed handkerchief may be folded and slipped inside an english walnut shell. the diminutiveness of the prizes is emphasized if they are wrapped in a series of boxes, each one larger than the next. for finding partners, english walnuts painted and dressed in crimped tissue paper to represent different nationalities may be used, a lady and gentleman being given the same nationality. the menu served may be made up of nuts: chicken and nut salad, peanut sandwiches, salted nuts, nut candies, bisque of almonds, pecan cake, walnut wafers, coffee. observation party place these objects tastefully on the dining-room table, each guest on entering the room being furnished with a catalogue of the subjects, supposed to be different paintings, made out so that blank spaces will be left to the right for the answers. from fifteen to twenty minutes are allowed to guess and write down the answers as fast as they are discovered. comparing notes is hardly fair. at the end of the stated time the guests leave the room. some one then calls out the correct answers, and the persons whose lists are the nearest correct, receive the first, second, third, and fourth prizes, the number of prizes varying according to the number of guests present. a booby prize for the one who was the least successful adds to the fun. below is given the list of forty subjects, and also the answers. from the latter you will know what objects to collect and place upon the table. it is better not to arrange them in exact order. subjects answers out for the night candle in candlestick departed days last year's calendar scene in bermuda onions we part to meet again scissors the reigning favorite umbrella home of burns flatiron the greatest bet ever made alphabet a line from home clothes line the house the colonel lived in corn cob without the corn cause of the american revolution tacks on a letter t a heavenly body dipper the little peacemaker chopping-knife spring offering glass of water bound to rise yeast cake family jars two glass jars things that end in smoke cigars a place for reflection hand mirror deer in winter eggs scene in a base ball game pitcher a drive through the wood block of wood with nail driven through a mute choir quire of paper a trophy of the chase brush a rejected beau old ribbon bow a skylight a star our colored waiter black tray sweet sixteen sixteen lumps of sugar consolation pipe common sense pennies the black friar black frying pan cole's memorials of the great cinders the four seasons mustard, vinegar, salt and pepper a morning caller a bell assorted liquors whip, switch and slipper the skipper's home cheese an absorbing subject blotting pad a dancing entertainment a ball bound to shine bottle of shoe blacking the spoony couple two spoons old fashioned flowers lady's slippers nothing but leaves block of blank writing paper old-fashioned dinner . a country in asia turkey . a color and a letter gravy . cape cod fruit and impudence cranberry sauce . a river in italy, an irish woman's beverage, and "the five little pigs that went to market" potatoes . a parent and cuttings parsnips . reverse and small bites turnips . time measures beets . an indian's wife and an interjection of silence squash . well or badly brought up bread . a goat butter . a letter tea . a crowd of people in a small place jam . mixed-up type pie . two of a kind pears . a receptacle for fluids and a letter candy . a crow's call and a doctor's payment coffee . ancient tales chestnuts . what i do to be heard ice cream old-time country school (can be used as a play.) "_the red schoolhouse will open for the fall term on september fifteenth. as a goodly number of pupils is desired, all receiving this are urged to search the highways and byways for others who may wish to attend. school will begin promptly at eight. as there will be a recess, all pupils should bring their dinners._ "_solomon wiseacres, pedagogue._" the coming of school-days, usually so much dreaded by young folks, was hailed with much delight by recipients of the above notice. on the appointed evening not only were there present the members of the society, but each one, heeding the injunction regarding the highways and byways, brought with him a friend. as the teacher had also found an extra pupil, there were just twenty-four in the party. the boys wore knee-trousers and the girls short skirts and pinafores, with their hair hanging down their backs in long braids or curls. all brought with them their dinners, packed in tin pails, in imitation of their country cousins. the schoolhouse was a large new barn, the schoolroom being up-stairs in the hay-loft. here were arranged two rows of benches, one for the girls and one for the boys; blackboards hung on the walls, and there was a plain wooden table in front for the teacher's desk. standing behind this, the schoolmaster, birch rod in hand, and looking very wise in a pair of huge spectacles, received his pupils and registered their names in a large book before him. among those enrolled were alvira sophronia simmons, malvina jane leggett, serena ann wilkins, patience charity gray, nathan bartholomew brown, ichabod thompson and abijah larkins. each pupil before being assigned a seat was interrogated by the teacher somewhat as follows: in what state and country were you born? do you know your letters? how far can you count? who was the first man? who built the ark? and so on until the teacher had acquainted himself with the limits of his pupils' ignorance. when all were seated teacher wiseacres announced that school would open with singing. the pupils were thereupon thoroughly drilled in the scales and other exercises, the master severely reprimanding any who sang out of tune. the lesson concluded with songs usually sung at the club gatherings, after which a knot of blue ribbon was given the one who had sung best, and a red bow to the pupil considered second best. during the course of this lesson, and also of those that followed, there were frequent interruptions caused by the refractory behavior of some of the pupils. serena ann wilkins was caught eating an apple, and was made to stand up in front with a book on her head. malvina jane leggett had to stand in the corner facing the wall for giggling; while, direst disgrace of all, abijah larkins was obliged to sit on the girls' side for drawing a caricature of the master on the blackboard. after the singing-lesson small wooden slates (the old-fashioned kind bound in red cloth) were passed around and the following exercise in orthography given out: "it is an agreeable sight to witness the unparalleled embarrassment of a harassed peddler attempting to gauge the symmetry of a peeled onion which a sibyl has stabbed with a poniard." this task was accomplished with much puckering of eyebrows, and no one, it may be said, succeeded in writing all the words correctly. the next lesson announced was reading, for which primers were distributed. these were small books with brown-paper covers, the lessons being tongue-twisters, beginning with such familiar ones as "she sells sea-shells," "peter piper," etc., and ending with this one of more recent date, taken from the _youth's companion_: a bitter biting bittern bit a better brother-bittern; and the bitten better bittern bit the bitter biter back. and the bitter bittern, bitten by the better bitten bittern, said, "i'm a bitter bittern-biter bit, alack!" the class stood up in front and were made to toe the line drawn in chalk on the floor. the pupil at the head was called upon first, and read until a mistake sent him to the foot, when the one next to him took his place. the master not only continually urged his pupils to greater speed, but at the same time kept a sharp lookout, and gave many words of warning to any whose feet were out of order; and the frantic efforts of the pupils to obey instructions made the lesson one of the most laughable contests of the evening. it was continued until recess, the hour for refreshments. the dinner-pails had been given for safekeeping into the hands of the teacher. now, when they were returned, it was discovered that the boys had received those belonging to the girls and the girls those of the boys. there was a happy correspondence in this exchange; ichabod thompson receiving the pail of patience charity gray and she receiving his, and so on. the pupils thus paired off were to share their dinners with each other. the master, who also brought his dinner, reserved for himself the pail of the girl pupil supposed to be his favorite. there was great fun and laughter over the opening of the pails, for the aim had been not so much to bring a dainty luncheon as one that should be typical of the old-time district school. the following may be taken as a sample of the contents of one of the buckets: bread and butter, doughnuts, apple turnover, spice-cake, cheese and one very large cucumber pickle. apples were contributed by the teacher. dinner over, the remainder of recess was spent in playing games. skipping the rope was one of the pastimes, and hop-scotch, tag, and hide-and-go-seek were others. school was resumed with a geography lesson, really a game played as follows: the teacher requested one of the pupils to give a geographical name, that of a country, city, river, etc. others were then called upon at random to give names, each of which had to begin with the last letter of the one preceding it. thus, if the first name given were egypt, the next one must begin with the letter t, as texas, while the one following this would begin with s, as st. louis. any one who failed to respond in the time allowed--half a minute--was dropped out of the class and the question passed on. the lesson was continued until there was but one left, who received the usual decoration. the session closed with an old-fashioned spell-down, but before the class was dismissed the wearers of the ribbons were presented with prizes, these being small, daintily bound books. the others, that all might have a suitable reminder of the occasion, received book-shaped boxes of candy. this done, the bell was rung and school was closed. this school party can be played in hall or church. old-time spelling bee the fact that a spelling bee is to form a part of the evening's entertainment need not be indicated upon the invitation, it being a part of the fun to catch people unawares. after the arrival of the guests the choice of a "teacher" and two leaders is effected by ballot. the two leaders then stand out at the end of the room opposite each other, and each chooses alternately one of the company at a time, to represent his side, until all have been chosen and stand in their places in two lines. the teacher, who is supplied with a book, then gives out a word to the person at the end of the line to her right. if the word is correctly spelled the next word is given out to the person at the end of the opposite side at her left. if this person fails to spell this word correctly she must immediately leave the line, and the same word is put to number two on the opposite side. if the word is correctly spelled she is privileged to choose one person from the opposite line to step over to the foot of her own line. another word is then given to the opposite opponent, and so on down the lines. it often happens that two equally proficient spellers are pitted against each other for some time, when the contest becomes very exciting. limit the time of the best speller it is a good plan, lest the contest become wearisome, to limit the time for the last participant. if at the end of six minutes the winner has not failed on any word given, he or she becomes director of the revels that follow, and must be implicitly obeyed for the rest of the evening. the first duty is to announce a "recess," and having been previously instructed he or she leads the way to an adjoining room, where upon a table is a pile of boxes of various shapes and kinds, neatly tied, which are distributed among the young women. after which it is announced that each box contains a small school luncheon, and that a young man accompanies each. she then proceeds to distribute the young men as she has the boxes. each young woman then shares her luncheon with her partner. should the box contain an apple, a sandwich and a cake these must be halved. after "recess" follow games, or music, or recitations, as the winner of the contest wills. orange party to emphasize the color scheme, the young hostess wore a becoming empire gown of orange-colored silk, and on her left shoulder was fastened a large rosette of orange-colored chiffon. each guest, upon arriving, was presented with a similar rosette to wear as a compliment to the occasion. the dining-room was decorated with potted plants. although it was an afternoon party, the blinds were drawn and the room lighted artificially. the electric lights were muffled in orange-colored cheese cloth, and produced a very charming effect. over the centre of the table was spread a large square of orange satin overlaid with a battenberg lunch cloth. on this stood the birthday cake, which had been baked in a fluted mold, then covered thickly with yellow icing, and was a very clever imitation of the luscious fruit it was intended to represent. the cake was surrounded by twelve small brass candlesticks, in which burned orange-colored tapers. at each end of the table was a smaller battenberg square over satin. on each of these, resting in a bed of green leaves, was an orange of abnormal size, fashioned of papier-mâché, made in two sections, though so exactly united that the orange seemed intact. in these were the favors--small yellow bonbon boxes filled with orange conserves and tied with baby ribbon. small glass dishes, standing on yellow tissue paper doilies that were fringed on the edges, and filled with orange puffs, orange kisses and other home-made sweets, were placed here and there on the table, and gave it a very festive air. the refreshments proper consisted of: frozen custard in orange cups orange jelly whipped cream small cakes orange icing orangeade the birthday cake was cut by the hostess, and each maiden served to a slice. in the cake had been baked an orange seed. she who was so fortunate as to find this seed in her slice was presented with an orange spoon on which was graven the hostess's monogram, the date and year. before leaving the table each guest was shown a small glass filled with orange seeds, and was allowed one guess as to the number it contained. the lucky guesser received a papier-mâché jewel box fashioned to represent an orange. the "booby" prize was the tiniest orange to be found in the market. orange sociable in planning for an orange sociable use plenty of orange colored paper, and make the decorations very attractive. make orange colored shades for gas or lamp globes, use orange colored paper napkins, make orange butterflies, and let those who serve on committee wear orange paper caps and orange colored ties. if possible use orange crepe paper for doilies and mats. refreshments should consist of oranges, wafers tied with orange ribbon, and orangeade. for entertainment the old nursery rhymes should be used. have slips of paper containing one line each of a rhyme such as "there was an old woman who lived in a shoe." pass these slips to the guests and have each hunt up the ones whose rhymes match that he holds. there will be four for each group, and they will then proceed to draw a picture of what their rhyme represents. a prize may be given the group drawing the best picture, consisting of four very small colored babies lying on a bed of cotton in an orange shell, the orange shell cut in half and tied with orange ribbon. as there will be four persons in the group, one baby can be given to each of the four. patriotic party drape the room for the occasion with red, white and blue bunting. fill tall vases with red and white carnations and deep blue larkspur. decorate the room with banners, streamers, red, white, and blue lamp shades, large copies of the state seals, and the like. uncle sam and miss columbia should stand in the centre of the room and receive the guests as they arrive. members of the social committee, representing in some way cuba, porto rico, the philippines, and hawaii, should act as ushers to present each newcomer to uncle sam and miss columbia. ask each guest to come bearing upon his garments somewhere a symbol that will hint at the name of one of the presidents. for instance, the picture of a canoe out of which persons are tumbling may suggest "tippecanoe" harrison; a link of sausage or of a chain, strung on a string and hung from the neck, will hint at lincoln. to indicate washington a washing-board may be borne in front, while on the back is a piece of pasteboard painted to resemble a weight and marked " ton." a "g. a. r." pin fastened to the picture of a meadow may represent garfield. give to each guest as he arrives a list of all the guests invited, and let him bestir himself to meet everybody, so as to ascertain if possible the various presidents represented, whose names when discovered he writes opposite the proper names on the list given him. these lists will be handed to an examining board, and, later in the evening, the one whose list is most complete and accurate will be adorned with a laurel wreath placed upon his head by some comic orator. this laurel wreath may be made of green paper, if you lack the real article. questions about past ladies of the white house may also prove interesting and enjoyable. a few such follow, but many others may be formulated. what first lady of the land fled from washington to escape the british? (dolly madison) what was mrs. lincoln's name before marriage? (miss mary todd) name three early presidents who married widows? (washington, jefferson, and madison) what early president married a new york girl? (monroe) whom did john q. adams marry? (louisa k. johnson, of maryland) what president had a troubled love affair and marriage? (jackson) what early president besides washington married a widow called martha? (jefferson) peddlers' parade one recently given by the young people of a church to raise funds for charity work was extremely well managed. invitations were issued to members of the congregation to attend a peddlers' parade at eight o'clock on a certain evening, a small sum being asked for admission. the movable seats in the chapel were placed so that a wide space was left between them down the centre of the hall. at eight o'clock a march was played, and through the door at the rear came a motley procession, greeted with peals of laughter, as one after another of the figures seen on the streets and in the market, selling their wares, was recognized. a little boy, seven or eight years old, with a red felt hat, a calico shirt, and gray overalls, carried under his arm a number of newspapers; a youth, wearing on his head a cook's white paper cap, had a tray filled with crisp brown doughnuts; two little girls held baskets filled with bags of candy, and a third a tray, on which lay small bunches of flowers. a young lady dressed as a market woman wore a calico gown and a plaid woolen shawl pinned over her head; on her arm was a basket filled with bunches of celery. a young man stalked up the aisle behind her, whose costume aroused a great deal of amusement. huge pasteboard placards hung over his shoulders, one in front and one behind; the former bore the inscription: william the corn-curer, each word occupying a line; the back: my salve cures corns. his head was covered by a silk hat, the crown of which was hidden under a piece of pasteboard like the placards. then came a lad drawing a cart in which was an ice cream freezer, labeled: hokey pokey, five cents a glass. an indian woman, whose wares were indian baskets, now appeared, and a lady selling druggists' specialties came next. she held a tray containing brushes, combs, tooth brushes, sponges, hand mirrors, and various toilet accessories, and her dress was trimmed with a border of sponges. a slender girl of seventeen years impersonated a jewelry peddler and gold watches, chains, bracelets, rings and jewels of all descriptions were fastened securely to her dress and on the edge silver teaspoons were crossed as a trimming. much amusement was created by a necktie vender, whose costume consisted of a black shirt, black cutaway coat and a gorgeous tie. on a hardware merchant's tray plebeian tin girdles shone with as undaunted a lustre as silver, while brass, steel, copper and wire kitchen utensils made a brave display. then followed a young girl wearing round her neck a broad band of ribbon, which hung nearly to her waist, and on which, fastened so closely that they looked like a garland, were bows for the hair made of ribbons of various colors. a gypsy in brilliant apparel, and a french seller of perfumes, also gayly attired, were conspicuous in the procession, and venders of popcorn balls and peanuts lent variety to the scene. marching through the lane left between the seats to the other end of the long room, they grouped themselves in a semicircle, and then one after another, stepping forward, offered for sale the various articles, naming their prices. penny for your thoughts find the following on a penny: . a messenger one cent . ancient mode of punishment stripes . means of inflicting it lash . piece of armor shield . devoted young man bow . south american fruit date . place of worship temple . portion of a hill brow . three weapons arrows . first american settler indian . emblem of victory wreath . emblem of royalty crown . one way of expressing matrimony united . part of a river mouth . implements of writing quills photograph party this is especially adapted for the opening or closing party of the season given by a club or society. souvenir booklets, containing small circular snapshot photos of each member of the club,--each one mounted in the centre of a page--are given the club members. a title page, with name, date and history of the club may be added, leaving blank pages for various memoranda. the cover may be of cardboard, paper, silk or satin, in the club colors, with the club name in gold. the place cards may be miniature photographs showing pretty bits of scenery, etc., or a corner of the room in which the club meetings are usually held. a flashlight photograph of the club may be taken, which will make a pleasing memento of the occasion. pictorial geography you can help make an hour at a social fly so quickly that the most bashful person present will say it was only ten minutes long, by the help of cards bearing small pictures which have been cut from newspaper advertisements. for instance, arkansas may be formed by a capital r, a sprinkling-can, and a saw; iowa, a large i, and a picture of a grocer's scales--i-weigh; sacramento, by a sack, "ra," a group of men, and the toe of a slipper; belgium, by a bell and a stick-pin (bell-gem); and so on with a host of such names as ohio, red sea, arizona, orange, wheeling, waterbury, catskill, delaware, montana, potomac, charleston, etc. picture reading picture reading is a novel amusement which is adapted to a small party only. provide as many envelopes and short pencils as there are guests. on the outside of each envelope write the name of a guest. place a lead-pencil and a folded sheet of unruled paper inside of each envelope. when the guests are seated, present each one with the envelope bearing his or her name. the hostess, or some other person appointed by her, then explains to the company that each one is expected to draw a picture upon the paper found within the envelope. no matter how crudely executed, each person must at least attempt to draw a picture of something, and then replace the sheet of paper in the envelope. a prophet or prophetess must be appointed, also an assistant, care being taken, however, that the former is pretty well acquainted with the different guests. the assistant collects the envelopes, keeping the names thereon carefully concealed from the prophet. he then takes from an envelope the drawing and presents it to the prophet. the latter proceeds to foretell the future life of the maker of the picture in his hand, revealing as much or as little as he pleases of the details of the picture. when he has exhausted the resources of the picture, he returns it to the assistant, who reads aloud the name on the envelope and restores both it and the picture to their owner. if properly carried out, this is a most entertaining form of amusement. pictures of prominent men if the company be musical, the pictures of celebrated musicians could be appropriately used, and in writing down the names of these it could also be required of the guests to cite some noted composition of each; or should the company be general, the pictures of men prominent in different professions--divines, orators, actors, statesmen--could be utilized in almost exactly the same manner. should the entertainment be given in july or in march, it would be quite appropriate to have on the cards pictures of the different presidents, to be named by the guests, the dates of their respective terms in offices to be given by them. while almost any one could readily recognize a picture of washington, lincoln or grant, there are other presidents whose portraits are not so familiar, and it would take a pretty good student in united states history to correctly recognize likenesses of them all, or even a dozen of the less familiar pictures of the group, much less to give the dates of their terms of office. a framed picture of one of the greatest of the presidents might be given as first prize to the person whose card is filled out correctly with all the names and dates, or comes nearest to being correctly filled. pie party the invitation to this party should be written on three-cornered papers, shaped and painted to look like pieces of pie. have each lady bring a different kind of pie, thus securing great variety. the refreshments should consist entirely of pies and hot coffee. have each gentleman present write a recipe for the kind of pie eaten by him, also telling how long it takes to bake it. a suitable prize can be given for the best recipe. a large pie filled with bran may contain a favor for each guest, any little articles that will not be injured in the baking being suitable. pilgrim luncheon a pilgrim luncheon is a most delightful affair when properly carried out. the guests should be requested to dress in quaint old costumes suitable to the occasion. if the floors are scrubbed and sanded in keeping with the old-time pilgrim interiors, so much the better. candles in old-fashioned brass sticks will furnish sufficient light. a cheerful fire in the grate, with a kettle hanging on a crane, will add to the festivities. all the old heirlooms--spinning wheels of various sizes, andirons, candlesticks, etc.--that can be resurrected or borrowed, will be needed. decorations consisting of strings of dried apples and bunches of field corn, can be used with good effect. old blue and white coverlids can be used as hangings or couch covers. homespun tablecloths and old-fashioned china will be needed in the dining-room. only old-time dishes should enter into the menu. below is given one: fried chicken hot rolls boston baked beans brown bread coffee cucumber pickles plum preserves pumpkin pie cheese doughnuts banbury tarts ping-pong luncheon this ping-pong luncheon deserves mention for the novelty of the idea as well as for the cleverness of the hostess in planning her menu. the table decorations consisted of two ping-pong nets stretched diagonally across the table. in the centre where the nets crossed, four racquets of white parchment with scarlet edges were placed. from these rose a bunch of asparagus ferns, and stuck amid the ferns, like big roses, were a dozen rosettes of taffeta ribbon of six different shades of red and pink. the name cards were of white cardboard cut in the shape of racquets with red edges. the menu included creamed white fish made into balls, each laid on a miniature racquet cut from thin slices of buttered bread; french chops trimmed into circular shape with the bone of each twisted with white frilled paper (forming little racquets) served with potatoes cut into little balls; balls of cream cheese served on racquets of toasted bread, with lettuce leaves; and vanilla ice-cream balls served on racquets of drop cake. at the close of the luncheon each girl took one of the rosettes and found in it a tiny silver pin in the shape of a racquet to pin upon her gown. the two who chose the same color had to meet each other in the tournament which occupied the rest of the afternoon. ping-pong party the invitations, which were written on pink paper, ran as follows: _ping-pong party!_ _polite and pretty people pressed to pleasantly play ping-pong for prizes: pens, pictures, purses or pencils._ _patent leather pumps and pinafores positively prohibited._ _party puts in at p. m.--pulls out at pleasure._ _program_ _ . ping-pong partners. . playing ping-pong. . partaking of prepared provender. . presentation of prizes. r. s. v. p. pretty promptly to miss ethel thompson,_ _ chestnut street._ the tournament began with mixed doubles. a pretty boutonnière was given to each guest. the men selected for their partners the girls who had flowers corresponding to theirs. after doubles were played off the singles were on, and the prizes were given at the supper-table. a charming japanese fan, labeled "pretty present to prevent prickly heat," was the ladies' prize; a potted plant, the men's; while some slight consolation was given the fortunate being who almost won by a wriggly paper snake, bearing on its harmless fangs the legend, "the perilous python pitilessly puts a period to pleasure." a rather unusual supper of sandwiches of thin pumpernickel, potato salad, pumpkin pie, fruit punch and popcorn was enjoyed. pin party the invitations to this were written on large sheets of paper, and the sheet was then folded up small, and pinned with a large black pin. each guest was requested to bring a fancy stick-pin which he or she was willing to have disposed of as the hostess saw fit. on entering, these were given to the hostess, who thrust each into a small card bearing the name of the person bringing it. while her guests were removing wraps in the guest-chamber, she put these by twos (one brought by a girl and one by a man) into small jeweler's boxes. the name of the girl who brought the one pin was put into the box, but no man's name was enclosed. when the time came for supper these boxes were passed to the gentlemen, who each selected one. the name inside indicated which lady he was to take out to supper. one stick-pin went to each of the pair, and these served as souvenirs. it so happened that no man had the pin that he had brought to the entertainment, and of course no girl had hers, for she would insist that the man take the pin she had provided. as many of these pins were the quaintest ones to be found by the persons bringing them, they created not a little amusement. but we are getting ahead of our story, for before supper the time was filled in with various games. the first of these was an entertainment in which all the guests took part. a fancy tray contained as many slips of cardboard as there were guests. this was placed on the centre-table, and the hostess called upon one of the men to pick up one of these slips at random, and read what it contained. he did so and read: "the tale of a pin." the hostess then informed him that he must tell the story of a pin, and do it in two minutes. the surprise was so great that he scarcely recovered enough to begin his story before his time was up. then he had to call on some girl, and she must take a slip, and do whatever it bade her, for the period of two minutes. and so on until all had taken part. some of the slips read thus: speak a piece with something in it about a pin. name twenty-five kinds of pins. tell a story about a girl and a pin. give an oration on points. give a talk on pinfeathers. improvise a poem on "the boy and the pin." point out the various pins you can see in this room. tell twenty uses for a hairpin. sew with a pin. with this was given a piece of cheese-cloth and a pin with a long thread tied to the head. count the pins in a heap. (all sizes and kinds.) make a pin stand on its head. draw a picture of a pin. (breastpin of huge pattern.) play a game of "ring pins." this was a variation of the game of quoits or ring toss. into a foot square piece of soft pine had been stuck twenty pins about an inch apart. the victim was given ten small brass rings, and made to stand two feet from the edge of the table, and see how many rings he could make catch over a pin. p.o.d. dinner party on the twenty-second day of february the guests were bidden to a p.o.d. (post-office department) dinner party, but none guessed the meaning of the mysterious letters till they were seated at the table and found that the place-cards were unsealed envelopes stamped and directed, each one containing a tin label similar to the ones upon the sacks used in the railway mail service. these had been made by a tinsmith and were only strips of tin three inches long and an inch and a half wide. the sides had been bent over slightly to form a slot to hold a narrow piece of cardboard, and a blue or a pink ribbon was drawn through a small hole punched in one end. the ladies' slips bore the names of small towns near by, while those of the gentlemen had the titles of the railroads on which the towns were situated. the table was decorated with toy trains and stagecoaches and men on horseback, all loaded with tiny mail-sacks filled with salted nuts, candies, and even little cakes. the guests had great fun guiding the various conveyances around the table and peering into the small sacks. after dinner the host stood in the dining-room door and would allow no couple to pass who were not able to show perfectly matched slides. in the parlor cards on which were written names and addresses were passed around and two minutes allowed to decipher and write them on tablets provided for the purpose, and numbered from one to twenty-five. at the tap of a bell each person passed his or her card to the one on the right, and in this way the cards made the circuit of the room in the given time. there were enough difficult ones to give an idea of the troubles which beset uncle sam's faithful servants when handling the mails. the first prize was a silver stamp-box, and the consolation one a small united states atlas. a boy with a mail-sack distributed packages of bonbons, the old-fashioned game of "post office" was played. pop-corn party i was much surprised and amused at a little corn-colored envelope which came with my morning mail the other day. it contained, written upon corn-colored paper, an invitation from mr. and mrs. blank to be present at "a pop-corn party" on the following thursday evening at eight o'clock. in the lower left-hand corner was written, "to meet mr. c. cobb very informally." in the dressing-room each girl was presented with an addition to her toilet in the shape of a necklace of popcorn sewed upon satin ribbon, each necklace having a distinct color. upon entering the parlors we found all the men adorned with watch-chains to correspond. we were speedily invited into the dining-room, where a bright open fire was burning, and were told that this time the girls were to do "the popping." and they did, while ghost stories were told, songs were sung and conundrums given and guessed. as the corn was popped it was given to the hostess, who, in a corn-colored crepon gown, presently invited all the men to take partners. this they did by selecting the girls whose necklaces matched their watch-chains in color. then we sat down to a veritable feast of popcorn at a table which had been entirely arranged in corn color, and upon which were served salted, sugared and buttered popcorn, popcorn balls, lemon jelly-cake, lemon sponge-cake, lemonade, hot and cold, lemon ice cream, lemon water ice and lemon jelly. after our delicious supper we returned to the parlor and were handed cards with pencils attached. our hostess then rang a bell and called for order, and when order reigned she requested us to write eight nouns beginning with corn, and the name of a general beginning in the same way. in ten minutes she rang the bell again and collected the lists. the best one read, "cornflower, cornstarch, cornice, cornet, cornea, corner, corncake, cornucopia, general cornwallis." the maker of this list received a pretty corn-colored paper lamp shade as a prize, and the girl who only had two words on her list received the booby prize--a corn-colored paper dunce cap, which she was compelled to wear the rest of the evening. portrait game in this new and clever game a name card, with the numbers from one to six written upon it, a small pad of paper, and a pencil, are handed to each guest. the gentlemen are then asked to select partners for each number upon their cards, and when this is done the hostess may give the signal for the game to begin, and announce that "partners" may proceed to draw each other's faces upon the pads of paper, each gentleman depicting the charms of his _vis-à-vis_, and each lady doing likewise. at the end of five minutes a bell gives the signal for the gentlemen to seek their next partners, and again the portraiture goes on. when all the partners have been taken and all the portraits drawn, each portrait being marked with the artist's initials and a number corresponding to the number the model occupies on each card, the collection is pinned to a sheet or portière, and the guests are invited to guess whose likeness each drawing is meant to represent. the one guessing the largest number of portraits correctly is given a prize of a photograph, and the one who has made the best portrait also receives one. poverty party the committee should take especial pains to have every one enter into this party to make it a success. when it was held at the home of the writer, the house was all torn up ready to move out the next day, so the floors were bare, the curtains were all down and everything looked very much poverty stricken. all the good furniture was moved out of the rooms, and store boxes with long boards across made the seats. mush and milk was served in tin cups with tin spoons (borrowed for the party). a flashlight photograph was taken and every one had a thoroughly good time. yew air ast to a poverty partty! that us fokes of thee trinity c. e. air a-goin tu hav at the hous whare mr. linscott livs with his wife. it is on alanson strete. if yer cante finde it go to no. . _monday nite, martch thee twenty ate_ ruls and regelashuns. chap. one. evry womman who kums must ware a kaliko dres and apern, ore somethin ekally apropriate. chap. tew. all men must ware there ole close and flannill shurts. biled shurts and stanup dickys air prohibbitted onles there ole and rinkled. _these ruls will bee inforced to thee leter._ one--a kompetunt core uf mannagers and ades will be in attendance. tew--the hull sasiety wil interduce strangirs and luk after bashfil fellers. three--there is a-goin to bee lots of phun fore every boddy. fore--phun wil begin tu commance at haf pas seven. five--tu git into thee house yew wil have tew pay tu ( ) cents. six--tu git anny thing tu ete yew will haf tu pay thre ( ) cents. seven--yew beter bring lots uv pennies tu pay phines with. _kum irly and git a gude sete._ poverty sociable you are asked to the parlors of gen. & mrs. silas t. jones _wednesday evening, april twelfth._ "come in your rags, come in your tags," but not in velvet gowns, or you will be fined the usual some, sents. read the program and all kum. rewls and regerlashuns first. every womin what kums must ware a poverty dres and apern, er somethin ekelly erpropriate, an leave her poodle dorg to hum. second. know gent with biled shirt and dood koller will be aloud to kum onless he pays a fine of sents. third. a kompitent komitty will intruduse strangers an look after bashful fellers. vittles koffy, sents ginger kake, sents kum at kandle lightin an stay til bedtime no obstreprous er bad boys permitted presidential couplets . who first at washington did pledge the nation's weal to guard and hedge? . which president, most grave and wary, was called "old public functionary"? . whose phaeton, made from ship of state, conveyed him to inaugural fête? . what president, renowned for spleen, joined the continentals when fourteen? . who in his new york home did take the oath which doth a president make? . who to his inaugural hied his good and faithful horse astride? . when death first made vacant a president's chair, what vice-president succeeded there? . who to his inaugural came disguised, for fear of mischief ill-advised? . who was wounded in trenton town when washington put the hessians down? . who president again became just four year after resigning the name? . what president served but thirty days ere death dissolved his term of praise? . what president, son of a president, was known as "the old man eloquent"? . because march fourth on sunday came, who, for one day, deferred their claim? . who, when his oath of office he took, was known as "the wizard of kinderhook"? . who, after his inaugural vow, turned round to kiss his mother's brow? . the initials of what president's name stand for a phrase which made his fame? . who in the quaker city neat their oaths of office did repeat? . which chief magistrate was styled "the american fabius" of the wild? . "novanglus" was the pen-name signed by what president of cultured mind? . who only as president and commander-in-chief has stood on the battle-field planning relief? . thomas jefferson. . james buchanan. . martin van buren. . andrew jackson. . chester a. arthur. . thomas jefferson. . john tyler. . abraham lincoln. . james monroe. . grover cleveland, . william henry harrison. . john quincy adams. . james monroe, rutherford b. hayes, zachary taylor. . martin van buren. . james a. garfield. . u. s. (unconditional surrender) grant. . john adams, george washington. . george washington. . john adams. . abraham lincoln. presidential questions what president had a son who became president? john adams. what president died with the now famous words: "this is the last of earth. i am content"? john q. adams. who was the fifteenth president of the united states? buchanan. what vice-president became president by the death of taylor? fillmore. by the death of garfield? arthur. what president fought the last battle of the war of ? jackson. during the administration of what president did the louisiana purchase and burr's treason occur? jefferson's. under what president was the war of begun? madison. what president outlined a famous foreign policy? monroe. what two presidents died the same day? adams and jefferson. what three presidents were assassinated? lincoln, garfield, and mckinley. what presidents served as generals in the mexican war? taylor and pierce. during what administration did the annexation of texas and the mexican war take place? polk's. presidents' nicknames let the nicknames of our presidents form the subject of a guessing contest. these should be written one at a time upon a blackboard and numbered. one minute is allowed in which to guess and write down the name of the executive to whom the title was applied. the list of nicknames is as follows: rail-splitter of the west? (lincoln) hero of new orleans? (jackson) old man eloquent? (j. q. adams) canal boy? (garfield) northern man with southern principles? (buchanan) tippecanoe? (w. h. harrison) honest abe? (lincoln) rough and ready? (taylor) let the best list of answers be awarded a prize. pussy willow party especially appropriate ideas for an evening's entertainment to be given the last of march or the first of april are suggested by the pussy willow. the invitations sent out to the invited friends can be written on cards brown-tinted like the bark of the trees, and can be very artistically decorated with the furry blooms, or with paintings of them. trim the parlor with pussy willows by filling vases, pitchers, and bowls. place the catkins about the room and suspend branches of them from gas jets and about the windows. the hostess can adorn herself very prettily with these blooms by making wreaths for the neck and hair, and by pinning branches of them on the skirt in some design. for entertainment, pin against the wall at one end of the room a sheet upon which is sketched a large pussy willow stalk. distribute paper catkins among the guests, who, blindfolded, try in turn, to pin them on the stalk. this affords a great deal of amusement. those who succeed in pinning their catkins upon the stalk receive prizes, given according to the success of the contestants. these prizes are in the shape of favors appropriately fashioned from the fluffy little pussies. for further amusement, have cards distributed on which each person is asked to write favorite quotations or original rhymes beginning with each letter contained in the compound word "pussy-willow." these are read in turn, and many gems are brought fresh to each one's mind. one could also introduce a pussy willow hunt, as another pastime. for the dining-room decoration use more pussy willows. a pussy willow centrepiece would carry out the idea nicely, and add to the attractiveness of the table. brown and silvery green are suggestive colors for further decorations, and may be used on the menu cards, making them simple but appropriate souvenirs. red, white and blue luncheon the entire color scheme of this fourth of july luncheon must be worked out in the national colors; as far as possible the doilies used should be designed in star-shaped patterns, with a border in wash silks of interwoven red carnations and blue corn-flowers. suspended directly over the centre of the table, a huge liberty bell should be hung, composed of red and white carnations and blue corn-flowers. depending therefrom should be ropes of red, white and blue ribbon, terminating at the four corners of the table. the luncheon to be served should be as far as possible in the prevailing colors, the ices might be in firecracker form, and the starry banner should appear wherever it can be introduced. draperies and pictures indicative of the occasion should be placed in conspicuous places, and do not forget a goodly supply of pyrotechnics to conclude the day. such a luncheon will certainly commend itself to all, and most particularly to the younger element. write the following verses on cards and pass around among the guests after they have left the table. have each verse read aloud previous to the performance: . though puzzles do our minds distress, we'd like two good ones now to guess. . we'd like to hear you tell to-day, some funny things that children say. . describe some woman in the town, her nose and hair, her dress and gown; but do not give us her address, nor tell her name, and we will guess. . we'd like a story full of fun; you're gifted, lyman, tell us one . misery likes company, they say; we'd like to hear you tell to-day (don't hesitate, but now begin) of the worst scrape you e'er were in. . your talent gives as much delight; we wish that you would please recite. . your part in this program to help us along will give us much pleasure; please sing us a song. . if music hath charms, we wish that to-day you'd prove it, and something quite charming would play. . tell some joke on yourself, your wife, or your friend. but we hope that you'll have it pleasantly end. . describe some trip you've taken far, to mexico, europe, or zanzibar. . give a tale of old time when settlers were few, of what they had then and what they did do. . describe some famous picture, whether dark or fair. please tell us all about it, and the artist rare. . without a bit of gossip sweet, this program would not be complete. be sure that while the seasons roll, this crowd will _never tell_ a soul. "riley" entertainment a "riley" party was recently held by one of our church charity organizations. it proved a decidedly unique affair and quite a profitable one also. the decorations of the church parlors consisted mainly of paper, which was most artistically entwined about pillar, post and picture. a large picture of james whitcomb riley was placed upon the wall facing the entrance, and over it in pasteboard letters, "when the frost is on the pumpkin, and the fodder's in the shock." almost all the young people who had gotten up the entertainment were dressed to represent riley's characters, and several of the most important presided over the booths. at one, which was literally covered with paper flowers, "'lizabeth ann, she can cook best things to eat," sold cakes and pies. at another riley's poems and photographs were sold, and at still another "the raggedy man! he works for pa," knocked down apples from an improvised apple-tree as fast as he could sell them. and among the purchasers were "little orphant annie," "max and jim," "pa and ma and me, all three," and many others. while all were busy buying and tasting the good things, "the old band" marched in. "somehow--anyway i want to hear the old band play sich tunes as 'john brown's body,' and 'sweet alice,' don't you know? and 'the camels is a-comin'' and 'john anderson, my jo.'" and the impromptu band played them. later in the evening some of the riley poems were recited. self-portraits "actions speak louder than words." so runs the old saw; nevertheless, a single phrase has often served to make a man famous, and many well-known personages are readily remembered through especially striking or appropriate utterances. how many readers will be able to credit the following to the proper sources? . "i am the greatest historian that ever lived." . "all that i am, or ever hope to be, i owe to my mother." . "i would rather men should ask why my statue is not set up than why it is." . "my infant son rules his mother; his mother rules me; i rule the athenians; the athenians rule the greeks; the greeks rule europe, and europe rules the world." . "though i have the arm of a woman, i have the heart of a king, and am ready to pour out my blood." . "here lies one whose name is writ in water." . "where liberty is _not_, there is my country." . "circumstances! i make circumstances!" . "as yet a child, not yet a fool to fame, i lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came." . "the world is my parish." . "with my sword by my side and homer in my pocket, i hope to carve my way through the world." . "my country is the world: my countrymen are mankind." . "i am called the richest monarch in the christian world; the sun in my dominion never sets." . "i am the state." . "life is a jest, and all things show it; i thought so once, but now i know it." . "if i were an american, as i am an englishman, while a foreign troop landed in my country, i never would lay down my arms--never! never! never!" . "i came, i saw, i conquered." . "i could lie down like a tired child and weep away the life of care which i have borne, and yet must bear." . "i awoke one morning and found myself famous." . "tell your master that if there were as many devils at worms as tiles on its roofs, i would enter." . edward gibbon. . abraham lincoln. . cato. . themistocles. . queen elizabeth. . john keats. . thomas paine. . napoleon bonaparte. . alexander pope. . wesley. . napoleon bonaparte. . wm. lloyd garrison. . charles v. . louis xiv. . john gay. . wm. pitt, earl of chatham. . julius cæsar. . percy b. shelley. . lord byron. . martin luther. seven days in one this fair can be planned by any society that wishes to raise money and is willing to work to earn it. monday have a booth with everything pertaining to wash-day--wash aprons, clothes-pin aprons, clothes-pin bags, wash-tubs, boilers, wash-boards, clothes-lines, clothes-pins, soaps, washing-powder, bluing, clothes-baskets, etc. tuesday have everything a housewife wants for ironing day--ironing-boards, irons, stands, holders, home-made holders, fine starch, bees' wax, ironing-board slips, polishing irons, etc. wednesday wednesday's booth should have everything for mending day, such as needle-books, stocking-bags, buttons, button-bags, pincushions, papers of pins, needles, thread, darning needles, darning-cotton, darning-balls, etc. thursday make thursday the reception day, arranging this booth as a reception hall, with a good, live committee in attendance. have a book for the guests to register their names and addresses (for future use). serve ice cream, cake, lemonade and candy. introduce strangers and appoint a special committee to look after the backward ones. friday let this booth be suggestive of sweeping day. have plenty of dust caps, dust bags, dusting cloths, brushes, brooms, dust-pans, dusters, large colored aprons (which sell readily), etc. saturday let this booth be a regular bakery. have your friends bake various things for you to sell, and have on sale all such articles as will sell readily, such as pies, cakes, cookies, doughnuts, bread, baked beans, etc. sunday have sunday the crowning day of all. arrange to have a piano or organ at this booth, and secure a full choir or quartet to sing the sacred songs; have solos, duets, instrumental music and an orchestra if possible. have sacred readings and make the time spent here an hour of sacred enjoyment. if something extra is wanted let the singers dress in old time costumes and sing the old sacred songs with an organ accompaniment. shamrock luncheon an idea for st. patrick's day the invitations were written upon pale green note-paper, with a shamrock leaf painted in water-color in one corner. the exquisitely blended shades of this leaf make it an easy and effective decoration. in truth, we encountered some difficulty in finding a leaf to copy; but a volume of moore's poems, incased by a considerate binder in a shamrock-sprinkled cover, solved the problem! the event was called a "shamrock luncheon," the hours were from two until six, and the word "whist" explained our intentions. the score-cards were cut from green cardboard, in the shape of a large shamrock; and across the back of each was written a line of a humorous st. patrick's day poem, which we had discovered in a newspaper. the verses will be found complete at the end of this article. it is adapted to twenty-four guests, but it is easy to insert more lines if more guests are invited. each lady selected her partner for the game by finding the holder of the line which rhymed with her own. the score-cards were tied with streamers of narrow white or green ribbon, which served both to attach the cards to the gown and to indicate partners in "changing tables"--the green always playing with a white ribbon. (care must be taken to tie rhyming cards, one with green and one with white.) when partners had been found, the entire poem, sufficiently humorous to break up all formality, was read. as each line was read, the owner of the card bearing that line took her seat as indicated, until all the guests were easily and laughingly seated. the six small luncheon tables were set with green and white china, and had for centrepieces pots of blossoming shamrock. any florist will sell or rent these. the menu was as follows: fruit salad boiled salmon caper sauce potato au gratin chicken salad in lettuce nests olives wafers pistachio cream fancy cakes iced in pale green coffee bonbons this repast, served by three pretty waitresses in white gowns and green ribbons, was eminently satisfactory. green and white bonbons are easy to obtain. care must be taken, however, not to carry the color scheme too far into the menu, as green is not an appetizing color in all kinds of food. st. patrick's birthday "'twas the eighth day of march, so some people say, st. patrick at midnight, he first saw the day! while others contend 'twas the ninth he was born, an' 'twas all a mistake between midnight and morn. but mistakes will occur in a hurry and shock, and some blamed the baby, and some blamed the clock. so that with all the talk there was, no one could know if the child was too fast, or the clock was too slow! "now the first faction fight in owld ireland, they say, was all on account of st. patrick's birthday. some fought for the eighth, for the ninth more would die; and who wouldn't see right, why, they blackened his eye. "at last each faction so positive grew that each kept a birthday, and patrick had two! until good father mulcahy, who showed them their sins, said no one could have two birthdays, but twins! said he: 'bhoys, don't be fightin' fur eight or fur nine; don't be always dividin', but sometimes combine. unite eight and nine--seventeen is the mark. let that be his birthday.' 'amen,' said the clark. "'if he wasn't a twin, sure his histhory will show that he's worth at least any two saints that we know.' then they all 'tuk a dhrop,' which completed their bliss; and they keep up the practice from that day to this." snowdrift party an ingenious hostess provided no little amusement for her guests by what she called her "snowdrift party." this is how it is arranged: first of all select from a good book of quotations or proverbs twenty sentences applicable to snow. write these twenty verses on twenty cards, one verse to each card, and number them with the numbers from one to twenty. now get together a half dozen pasteboard or wooden boxes, and fill these with flakes of cotton, wool or white paper torn into small pieces. hide the quotation cards away in the snow thus formed. each guest receives a wooden teaspoon, tied with ribbon, a note-book and pencil. the boxes are distinguished by letters or numbers painted upon them, and lots are drawn to determine in which "snowdrift" each guest shall dig. the digging is, of course, done with the spoons. each player digs in the snow, turning it up spoonful by spoonful, until he discovers a card. when a card is found the quotation upon it must be read and the name of the author, if recognized, written down. each author's name should be placed in the note-book opposite the proper number of the card, in order to facilitate the work of the person who reads the lists to decide the prize. the cards, whether the author is known or not, are always returned to the box and hidden away in the snow. at the end of fifteen minutes, work ceases and the diggers begin on new drifts. this changing is done every fifteen minutes, a player digging always in a new snow bank until the number of boxes is exhausted. when the game reaches this stage all note-books or tablets are collected by the mistress of the ceremonies. she compares the answers in the note-books with her own list, previously prepared. incorrect guesses are pruned away with a blue pencil and the correct ones counted. it is, of course, the player who has most of these last who carries off the trophy. the prize should be in some way suggestive of the occasion. sock sociable this little sock we give to you is not for you to wear; please multiply your size by two and place therein with care, in pennies or in cents, just twice the number that you wear, (we hope it is immense). so if you wear a number you owe us , see? which, dropped into our little sock, will fill our hearts with glee. 'tis all we ask; it isn't much, and hardly any trouble, but if you only have one foot, we'll surely charge you double. now, if you have a friend quite dear, you'd like to bring with you, or if you know some one who'd come, we'll gladly give you two. so don't forget the place and date-- we'll answer when you knock, and welcome you with open arms, but don't forget your sock. this little verse should be sent with every invitation to the sociable, accompanied by a tiny sock made of silk or lawn. on the night of the entertainment, these socks with the money that has been placed in them are brought by the guests and deposited in a large bowl at the door. the sociable then proceeds in the usual manner. this is an excellent way of raising money for some charitable object. spinning party "will you walk into my parlor?" on the upper left-hand corner there was a picture of a spider spinning his web, and a fly struggling to escape from its meshes. when the guests arrived they saw an old-fashioned spinning wheel in the centre of the room, with flax near by, all ready for spinning. they were told that all must try for the prizes that were to be awarded to the lady and gentleman who spun the best thread, after five minutes' trial. the mother of the hostess, who had done such work when a girl, stood near to give instruction, and to time the contestants. those who have no knowledge of spinning can have no idea how much fun there is in trying to make an even thread, more especially when surrounded by interested young people of no greater experience. as the different threads were finished they were fastened to a tag bearing the name of the worker and then pinned to a square of black cloth that had been pinned to the wall for that purpose. when all had tried, a committee was appointed to help the hostess decide to whom prizes should be awarded. while the spinning was going on the guests whose turn at the wheel had not arrived and those who had already tried were set to following the threads of what looked like an immense spider web wound around the rooms. it was composed of black and white threads, the black threads being intended for gentlemen and the white ones for ladies. they were instructed that when they found an end of one of these threads they were to begin winding it into a ball; but that they must do so very gently, or the whole web would be knotted so badly that it could not be undone. when they came to a knot it must be untied. these threads were so ingeniously twisted together and wound around pictures, bric-à brac, table legs, etc., that it took some time to reach the farther end, and every one had plenty of opportunity to talk with every one else. a card was fastened to the farther end of each thread, and all the cards had been so well concealed from view that some time elapsed before the guests knew what they were to find. on each card were written the words, "you will take supper with the one who holds the mate to your card." then the cards must be compared. each contained a spider web, some with four circles, some with more; some with eight divisions, others with more or less; but there were always two of each kind, and through the peculiarities of these webs the partners discovered each other. the difference in webs was sometimes so slight as not to be detected without close observation; but it was always plain after having once been pointed out. it is surprising how many different designs can be worked out in these webs. the work is really quite fascinating when once begun, so the thought of it must not frighten any one from giving a spinning party. when the prizes had been awarded to the best spinners, several tables were brought in and set about the room. on the top of each there was fastened a heavy sheet of drawing paper, upon which five circles had been drawn. the outside circle was as large as the table would allow. the inner one was only two inches in diameter. the other three circles were drawn at equal distances between these two. in the inner space on one table were the figures ; the next ; then came , and . on the next table the inner space was marked , and each of the other spaces less. on the third and last table the inner circle was marked , and each of the others less. each player was given a top, made from a spool, and all the guests took turns spinning the tops on the table having the lowest figures. when the top ceased spinning the player was credited with the number on which the point of the top rested. as soon as a player had twenty-five to his credit he advanced to the next higher table. there he must win fifty points before he could pass on to the highest table. when he had won a hundred points at the third table he was obliged to begin again at the foot table. the top must not be touched while spinning. should it drop to the floor the player must make ten before he could begin to count again. should he make at the next trial he only counted ; but he had a second trial when his top had dropped to the floor, before the next player spun his top. each player had a credit card tied in his buttonhole upon which numbers something like the meal tickets issued at restaurants were closely written. when added these numbers should make . the hostess had a punch with which she cut out the numbers to correspond with those won by the player. when any player had no more numbers on his card he was declared winner and the game was ended. spinster tea where a party of girls wish to have an evening all to themselves the "spinster tea" will furnish them with much merriment. as this sort of tea should be quite informal the invitations may be written on plain white note-paper, as follows: "_being a spinster in good standing in this community you are cordially invited to a 'spinster tea' on tuesday evening, november twentieth, at seven o'clock, at madison street. you are requested to dress in character, and to bring with you an old-fashioned picture of a man supposed to have been refused by you. be prepared to tell the story of his wooing and to state what he lacked to make him pleasing to you. the narrator of the most improbable story will be given a heart._" when the evening of the tea comes, and the guests have all been introduced one to another, they may be ushered into the dining-room and the supper be served. the dining-table should be arranged in as old-fashioned a style as possible. at the four corners place candlesticks with wax candles, and for a centrepiece have a large bouquet of artificial bachelors' buttons. use old-fashioned china and silver if you happen to have any. at each place put a few bachelors' buttons, to which attach a menu card by a narrow white taffeta ribbon. the refreshments should be numbered upon the menu cards, and each guest be allowed to choose one number each time the waitress passes around. the key to the menu given should be held by the hostess and the waitress. the following menu was recently used at a "spinster tea" and created much merriment: menu key to the menu . always in pairs. . cup and saucer. . would they were here. . jolly boys. . front curls. . curled molasses chips. . objects of envy. . preserved pears (pairs). . warranted to pop. . bottle of ginger ale. . a solace. . tea. . sadly missed. . kisses. . high-backed comb. . honey in comb. . cause of woe. . spiced tongue. . courtship. . mush. . a lover. . a spoon. . a small deceit. . a plate. . our tears. . salt. . left over. . heart (baked). after all have partaken of refreshments the guests should adjourn to the parlor where a circle may be formed, and, beginning at the left, each spinster in turn may exhibit the picture of her wooer, and relate her story. two judges may be chosen by lot to decide which is the prize story, and a large frosted gingerbread heart may constitute the prize. state abbreviations . which is the most religious state? (mass.) . the most egotistical? (me.) . not a state for the untidy? (wash.) . the most asiatic? (ind.) . the father of states? (pa.) . the most maidenly? (miss.) . the most useful in haying time? (mo.) . the best state in time of flood? (ark.) . decimal state? (tenn.) . state of astonishment? (la.) . state of exclamation? (o.) . state to cure the sick? (md.) . where there is no such word as fail? (kan.) . the most unhealthy state? (ill.) state flowers in case it is desired to represent the various states of the union by floral decorations, the following list is given: alabama--goldenrod. arkansas--aster. california--columbine. delaware--peach blossom. idaho--syringa. iowa--wild rose. maine--[ ]pine cone and tassel. michigan--[ ]apple blossom. minnesota--moccasin flower. missouri--goldenrod. montana--bitter root. nebraska--goldenrod. new jersey--state tree, sugar maple. new york--rose; state tree, maple. oklahoma territory--[ ]mistletoe. oregon--oregon grape. rhode island--violet; state tree, maple. vermont--red clover. washington--rhododendron. [footnote : adopted by state legislature.] state nicknames which is the hoosier state? (indiana) the nutmeg state? (connecticut) the keystone state? (pennsylvania) the buckeye state? (ohio) the palmetto state? (south carolina) the pine tree state? (maine) the prairie state? (illinois) the sucker state? (illinois) the lone star state? (texas) the lumber state? (maine) the mother of states? (virginia) the mother of presidents? (virginia) the old dominion? (virginia) the old north state? (north carolina) the hawkeye state? (iowa) the green mountain state? (vermont) the granite state? (vermont) the freestone state? (connecticut) the empire state? (new york) the diamond state? (delaware) the creole state? (louisiana) the corn cracker state? (kentucky) the blue hen state? (delaware) the bay state? (massachusetts) state sociable each guest on arriving should be presented with a white card on which has been pasted a picture of general washington. these need not all be alike--in fact, it will increase the interest in the cards if they are not; any picture of our first president may be used. small ones cut from magazines will answer the purpose admirably. beneath the picture have the date, and through perforations at the top of the cards run red, white and blue ribbon hangers. on the reverse of each of the first thirteen cards given out write the name of one of the thirteen original states; on the next thirteen the capital of each of these states, and on the next thirteen one of the principal cities in the states. if the company is to be a large one the forty-five states of the union may be used instead of the original thirteen. the company then forms into state groups--those holding cards bearing the name of the state itself, its capital and principal city--and each group agrees which product of its state is most beneficial to the greatest number of people. when a report is called for, a vote is taken from all present as to which product is most essential to the welfare of the nation as a whole. three small bouquets of red and white carnations tied with blue ribbon will make appropriate rewards for the three supporters of the state which wins distinction. st. patrick's day party invitations to be sent out as follows: _you are invited to attend a gathering of the sons and daughters of erin at the home of mr. and mrs. patrick o'rafferty, (mr. and mrs. herbert b. linscott), southern avenue, cleveland, on st. patrick's day in the evening._ _you will please come masked and representing some irish lady or gentleman. each guest is asked to furnish an irish story, song or recitation._ when the guests arrive their assumed names are written on cards and pinned on each one, and they are introduced to the company under these names; for instance, mr. and mrs. dennis mcfadden, or mr. martin dooly and miss maggie murphy. michael o'toole might go as a bricklayer. there can be an old apple woman with a basket of apples (which could be sold for a penny a piece for the treasury). mike mcginnis of the police force might go as an irish policeman. widdy malony and her daughter nora, the priest, father mccrary, and several sisters of charity could also be represented. let every one enter into the fun with spirit. have the decorations of the house all green and have each one wear as much green as possible. tin spoons tied with green ribbon can be given as souvenirs. have an irish potato race. prizes of stick pins in shamrock designs can be given the winners, or potato pincushions tied with green ribbons. have green paper napkins which can be made from green tissue paper. animals can be made from potatoes, using toothpicks for legs and tails. have each guest help in the entertainment of the evening by an irish song, story or recitation. refreshments for irish party wafers tied with green ribbon olives pickles irish potato chips served on lettuce leaves green tea lady fingers tied with green ribbon green ribbon candy st. patrick's guessing contest (something green.) . name of a celebrated poet. (john greenleaf whittier) . name of a celebrated authoress. (grace greenwood) . child's artist. (kate greenaway) . revolutionary officer. (general greene) . pennsylvania city. (greensburg) . cold country. (greenland) . western bay. (green bay) . emigrant. (green horn) . domestic fruit. (green gage plum) . large burial place. (greenwood cemetery) . legal tender. (greenback) . a variety of apples. (greening) . a place for growing plants. (green house) . a part of a theatre. (green room) . a harmless stimulant. (green tea) . a famous town in kentucky. (bowling green) . children's game. (green gravel) . another name for jealousy. (green eyed monster) . a country place near pittsburg. (green tree) . a nourishing tree in the bible. (green bay) . title of an irish song. (wearing of the green) . another name for verdure. (greenery) . an article of dessert. (grenoble walnuts) . a beautiful hamlet near allegheny. (evergreen) telegram party to interest guests who have a sense of humor and thoroughly enjoy a little quick thinking you can easily invent new games or adapt and add novel accessories to some older idea, such as, for instance, "a telegram party." for this party write your invitations on telegram blanks, and let your refreshments be served not by a maid (who never enjoys extra work), but by one or more boys dressed as telegraph messengers. they will delight in their responsibility and will help you in many ways. let the boys also pass to each person a pencil and a telegram blank, on which are to be written ten letters, dictated at random by ten guests in turn. these letters each player must manage to use as the initials of ten words following in such order as to form an intelligible telegram. none of these initials can be used for address or signature, but otherwise no limit is placed upon the ingenuity of the writer. then let the messengers collect the blanks, and after the hostess has read all the amusing results let a vote be taken for the cleverest message and a prize be awarded to the sender. of course, the entertainment can be extended by writing any number of telegrams or varied by requiring that each set of telegrams refer to some assigned subject. tennis sociable write invitations on small white cardboard racquets. decorate the walls with tennis racquets and nets. have tennis racquets hung from each chandelier, and stretch a large net across the room. place in this net red and white racquets of pasteboard, each tied to several yards of red and white ribbon, and have them all tangled up. the object is to wind up the string on the racquets, and secure as many as possible without breaking the ribbon. the committee should wear red belts with seven red streamers, each containing a letter, and spelling the word "welcome." place welcome mottoes about the room and pinned upon the racquets and nets. red and white flowers of all kinds can be used for decorations. take small pasteboard racquets, write quotations on, cut in half and give one-half to the ladies and the other half to the gentlemen, and have them match the quotations. refreshments can be passed in regular tennis racquets; in summer, lemonade and wafers, or in winter, hot coffee and cake. red and white decorated racquets can be given the guests as they leave, for souvenirs. ten virgins (sacred play) select ten young ladies who are good singers--six sopranos and four altos. divide into two groups, three sopranos and two altos in each group. have all dress in long white robes and each carry a candle. five should have lighted candles and five not lighted. have all behind a curtain and before they appear have the whole ten sing the hymn, "be robed and ready when the bridegroom comes." this can be found in any sacred song book. have a small room curtained off on one end of platform. while singing the last verse, "we'll all go forth to meet him when he comes," the five with candles lighted will march forth from behind the curtain and pass across the platform into the small room. they go in and the door is shut. the other five virgins come forth with _no light_ and pass across the platform silently, and knock at the door, but they cannot get in. the five foolish virgins then sing, "oh, let us in, the night is dark and chill," and the five wise virgins who have passed in will answer, using the chorus of the same hymn, "too late, too late, ye cannot enter now." this is found in methodist hymnal, no. . the five foolish virgins ask the questions contained in each verse and the five wise ones answer with the "too late." thanksgiving day decorations great cornstalks, with the husk merely turned back to show the yellow ear, are extremely effective. a huge bunch of these on either side of the drawing-room door will take the place of palms. they may also be placed at the entrance to the dining-room, their sentinel-like appearance making them charming as a doorway decoration. here and there great pumpkins, hollowed out to admit of the flower-pot with its growing green, make unique jardinières. a bunch of corn, where the ear is red, tied by means of a bow of yellow ribbon to the chandelier, admits of the same suggestion as the mistletoe of christmas time, and makes a pretty spot of color, besides being the cause of much quiet fun. a pretty feature is to have a pumpkin table brought in during the refreshments and hold a guessing contest, which gives an opportunity for much merriment and for the giving of prizes to the lucky guessers. this table should be arranged as follows: upon a small, highly polished table (mahogany is perhaps the richest in effect), place a dainty, embroidered centrepiece, and set upon this a large pumpkin, either on a silver dish or resting directly on the white linen. this pumpkin should be hollowed out, as the others, leaving only its yellow shell, the pumpkin holding an assortment of fruit, luscious and beautiful--highly polished red-cheeked apples, oranges, bananas and grapes; trailing here and there among them a few red leaves, or if they can be obtained, a spray of wild clematis, of bitter-sweet, or of smilax. the guests are told that underneath the fruit lies something suggestive of nature's ways, and therefore of the occasion and that they are to guess what it may be and how much of it there may be. the guesses will be many and varied. the fruit-dish may be passed, the fruit disposed of, and underneath will be found the pumpkin's seeds, which have been gathered together. the prize for the guest that guesses the nearest can be a little horn-of-plenty drinking glass. if one wishes to give souvenirs of the occasion, charming little pencils can be obtained that have the lead appearing from a miniature ear of corn. this feature, however, is quite unnecessary. thanksgiving football dinner the following is a description of a novel dinner recently given a party of twelve football enthusiasts on thanksgiving day. while the ladies were up-stairs removing their wraps, a maid came in with a tray on which were six wishbones, each having tied to it a knot of ribbon of one of the different college colors. of these they were to take their choice, according to the college or university they preferred. meanwhile the gentlemen down-stairs had been presented with ribbon rosettes, and as these matched the ribbons on the wishbones they easily found the ladies whom they were to take in to dinner. when the company entered the dining-room they found that the decorations were in perfect harmony with the character of the game which they had just witnessed. chrysanthemums, which are considered a necessary accompaniment of a football game, were everywhere. a yellow jardinière filled with ragged beauties in red and bronze stood in the centre of the table, while a single long-stemmed flower was laid beside each plate. there were also chrysanthemums in vases on the mantel and sideboard. the favors, or "mascots," of the dinner were small turkey-gobblers of papier-mâché containing the bonbons. a feature of the dinner enjoyed almost as much as the feast itself was the novel form of the menus. these were written on two opposite pages of dainty booklets, the outside covers of which were decorated with characteristic football sketches accompanied by appropriate quotations. these were so unique and apropos to the occasion that each guest carried his home as a souvenir when he left at the end of the evening's entertainment. instead of being separated into the usual courses, the menu was divided, like a football game, into a first and second half, with an intermission between, and was arranged to read somewhat like a football program, giving in outline the particulars of a game, the various terms and expressions in which described the names of the viands. the following is an illustration, except that in the original the names of the different articles were omitted, a word in parenthesis giving a hint where the meaning seemed doubtful: first half i. the spectators arrive and discuss the "points" (blue) of the game. blue points ii. a tally-ho "bowls" in with the football team, said to be "superior." the players enter the field with great "celerity," the small boys enthusiastically declaring them to be "crackers." celery soup crackers iii. play begins with "a fair catch taken on the fly." fish iv. a "foul (fowl) tackle." turkey "pease" follows a "runner," but "murphy" interferes and "beats" him off. peas squash potatoes beets v. the game at the end of the first half is distinguished by the fine playing of the "backs" (canvas). canvasback ducks intermission during the intermission the "heads" of several players, young and green, bruised in the mix-up, receive a "dressing" down. lettuce salad second half i. the wedge, or v-shaped, play is tried. pie--mince and pumpkin ii. followed by disastrous results, necessitating a call for "sponge" and "ice." sponge cake ice cream iii. the "fruits" of faithful training are manifest, a "bunch of purples" go down before a single "orange." "bartlett" and "nellis," a fine pair (pear), become "candidates" for great honor, "raisin'" cheers of delight from the spectators by circling the ends, who are "nut" what they are "cracked" up to be. fruit--grapes oranges pears candied dates raisins nuts iv. the cup is presented. coffee v. everybody leaves the grounds. although the above may seem a little far-fetched to an authority on football, the guests were not over-critical, and the novel menu proved a great source of entertainment, keeping them wondering and speculating between the courses as to what was coming next. some of the guests supposed the "bruised heads" to be those of the cabbage, it having apparently escaped their minds that there was such a thing as head-lettuce. others failed to see the connection between squash and "runner" until reminded of the fact that squash grows on a vine running along the ground, while a smile went around the table as one by one, after concluding that coffee was referred to in "the cup is presented," discovered, also, the double meaning in the final words of the menu, "everybody leaves the grounds." a number of things served on the table, such as cranberries, jellies, olives, etc., were not named in the menu, owing to the difficulty of expressing them in football language. after dinner there was much fun and merriment over pulling the wishbones, the ladies having offered to break theirs with the gentlemen attending them at dinner. later the guests gathered around the open fireplace, cracking nuts, telling stories, and having a good time generally. when the time came for them to depart they voted the thanksgiving dinner of which they had just partaken the most unique to which they had ever sat down. thanksgiving sociable how surprised every one was at the changed appearance of the sunday-school room! all the chairs had been removed and at various places stood great shocks of corn. upon the wall were hung red berries and bright-hued autumn leaves, garlands of which may be easily made if the leaves are gathered as they fall, waxed, pressed, and strung on strong threads. in the centre of the room was arranged a large semicircular divan made of pew-cushions covered with dark, richly-colored draperies. there were a number of sofa-pillows heaped upon the divan. the room was dark save for the light which glimmered from hideous-faced pumpkin lanterns. the committee in charge welcomed the guests and invited them to be seated in the charmed circle. the first thing that met their gaze was an immense pile of corn on the cob. over this, standing on three legs, was a goblin pumpkin with three pairs of glaring eyes, three noses and three large mouths. a hush fell upon the company, while here and there could be heard a suppressed giggle. suddenly a chorus of girls' voices broke out in a bright autumn song to enliven the drooping spirits of the guests. no sooner had their fears been somewhat allayed than a spectral figure approached from behind a curtain and sat down by the heap of corn. all held their breath as it slowly reached out its hand and pulled an ear of corn from the pile, gazed at a tag which was fastened to it by a ribbon, read the name of some one who was present, and threw that person the ear of corn, demanding in a deep, thrilling voice, "a ghost story." it is needless to describe the quaking and shivering while the story was being told. the dashing piano solo which followed was fully appreciated. a second ghost story was demanded in like manner as the first, after which came singing, more stories, and music. then one of the girls, who could recite well, stood facing the company, with a background of curtains, and gave whittier's poem, "the pumpkin" when she reached the last stanza the curtains back of her were drawn, as if by spirits, disclosing a long table covered with a snowy cloth, upon which were piles of doughnuts, pumpkin pies, cheese and cups of steaming coffee. every one gave an exclamation of surprise at the sight, and refreshments were served amidst much fun and laughter. the sociable closed with gifts of a pie apiece to each person contributing to the entertainment, and an ear of corn, tied with bright ribbon, to each guest. in order to have the ghost stories a success the committee arranging the program had selected them beforehand. a great deal of the success of the entertainment was due to the fact that its nature had been kept secret, and, curiosity having been aroused, an unusually large number of people attended. transplanting trees pass slips of paper around with the names of different trees, all in capital letters, but not spelled in order; for instance, y-h-o-k-r-i-c, which when transplanted will spell the name hickory. a suitable prize can be given the one who succeeds in transplanting the greatest number of trees. tree guessing contest . a solid, tenacious, easily-moulded substance, and a part of the hand. . a ruminant quadruped of the feminine gender. . to show grief, and a machine in which cotton, wool, or flax is opened and cleansed. . neat, without elegance or dignity. . ill, ill, ill. . a nickname, a vowel and an external covering. . used for puddings and a part of the hand. . a near and dear relative. . a vegetable and a scottish word denoting possession. . a partner, came together, and a part of the human body. . a green muskmelon pickled. . a drink, and a lineal measure. . a coat or covering. . wax palm. . yew. . weeping willow. . spruce. . sycamore. . tamarind. . sago palm. . paw-paw. . plantain. . palmetto. . mango. . cocoa palm. . fir. tree party for a june entertainment nothing could be more suitable than a tree party, for at this season the new leaves are all out and everything looks fresh and green. trim the house with branches and blossoms, having as many varieties of trees represented as possible. when all the guests have arrived, give to each one a strip of cardboard (having a pencil tied to it with a bit of green ribbon) upon which are written the following questions for them to answer: . what's the social tree, . pear. tea. . and the dancing tree, . hop. . and the tree that is nearest the sea? . beech. . the daintiest tree, . spruce. . and the kissable tree, . tulip. yew. . and the tree where ships may be? . bay. . what's the telltale tree, . peach. . and the traitor's tree, . judas. . and the tree that's the warmest clad? . fir. . the languishing tree, . pine. . the chronologist's tree, . date. . and the tree that makes one sad? . weeping willow. . what's the emulous tree, . ivy. . the industrious tree, . spindle-tree. . and the tree that will never stand still? . caper. . the unhealthiest tree, . sycamore. . the egyptian-plague tree, . locust. . and the tree neither up nor down hill? . plane. . the contemptible tree, . medlar. . the most yielding tree, . india-rubber. . and the tree that bears a curse? . fig. damson. . the reddish brown tree, . chestnut. . the reddish blue tree, . lilac. . and the tree like an irish nurse? . honeysuckle. . what is the tree that makes each townsman flee? . citron. . and what round itself doth entwine? . woodbine. . what's the housewife's tree, . broom. . and the fisherman's tree, . basswood. . what by cockneys is turned into wine? . vine. . what's the tree that got up, . rose. . and the tree that was lazy, . satin. aloe. . and the tree that guides ships to go forth? . (h)elm. . the tree that's immortal, . arbor-vitæ. . the trees that are not, . dyewoods. . and the tree whose wood faces the north? . southernwood. . the tree in a bottle, . cork. [hazel. . the tree in a fog, . smoketree. . and what each must become ere he's old? . elder. . the tree of the people, . poplar. . the traveler's tree, . wayfaring tree . and the sad tree when schoolmasters hold? . birch. . what's the tree that has passed through the fiery heat, . ash. . that half-given to doctors when ill? . coffee. . the tree that we offer to friends when we meet? . palm. . and the tree we may use as a quill? . aspen. . what's the tree that in death will benight you? . deadly nightshade. . and the tree that your wants will . breadfruit. supply? . and the tree that to travel invites you, . orange. . and the tree that forbids you to die? . olive. then the following game may be played: pin a slip, containing the name of some tree, on the back of each person present. questions may be asked concerning it, which will give a clue to the wearer, who is to guess the tree he is supposed to represent. as fast as each one is guessed, the slip is taken off the back and pinned on the breast. allow fifteen minutes for each person to write an original poem on the tree he represents. judges are appointed to select the best poem, and a suitable prize can be awarded. tree pool that the guests may choose partners, give out cards of red, green, yellow, and brown cardboard cut in the shape of leaves,--maple, elm, oak, etc. there should, of course, be but two leaves of the same shape and color, one of each being passed to the ladies, the corresponding ones to the men. the game is played in the usual way where there is a pool of letters, except that the words made must be only the names of trees or shrubs. for those who may not be altogether familiar with the game, the rules are that each one in turn draws a letter from the pool, then tries by transposing one of his opponent's words to use this letter, and so make a new word for himself. plurals are not considered new words. if one cannot use the letter to draw from his opponent's, or in his own list, it is thrown back, and the turn passes to the next. if, however, the letter is used, the player has another turn. when either couple at the head table have made ten words, the bell is rung and the guests score and progress as in any other game. when supper is served, have the table decorated with a plant standing in the centre, and from this to each corner of the table have a row of noah's ark trees, which can be purchased at any toy shop. stand one of these on each of the plates as they are passed to the guests. they will make very attractive souvenirs of the occasion. trolley party the guests invited to our trolley party were twenty in number. when all had assembled, cards with pencils attached were given them, after which the hostess announced that the trip would take half an hour, that the conductor would ring his bell for start and finish, but that the guests must prove their familiarity with the names of the streets, which were represented on cards scattered through the rooms--pinned to curtains, table-covers, pincushions, etc. carnations were given to the one guessing correctly the greatest number of streets, a tiny bank and a new penny to the one having the least. the cards were as follows: a trolley ride--st. louis to kirkwood . abraham's wife. . what idols' feet are often made of. . stop here when hungry. . always owns a goose. . dear to our hearts though sometimes a "rip." . brought lightning from the clouds. . a part of a door and what doors are usually made of. . a sombre color. . of cherry-tree fame. . a direction of the compass and a preacher. . the side of a tiny stream. . one of the discoverers of pike's peak. . a great turn. . associated with the lower regions. . the highest point. . what most housewives do on monday. . a famous summer resort. . what the preacher who lisped said to the sinner. . green, and dear to girlish hearts. . makes a quick fire. the names of the streets represented were: . sarah. . clay. . berry road. . taylor. . jefferson. . franklin. . lockwood. . gray. . washington. . westminster. . edgebrook. . clark. . big bend. . sulphur. . summit. . wash. . newport. . prather. . olive. . pine. this same idea could be carried out in connection with the streets of any other town. unique valentine party the invitations requested that each guest appear in costume and masked. this was the keynote of the affair. an early lunch was planned, as they were to choose partners while still masked, and naturally they would wish to remove their masks after that form of the entertainment had flagged a little. the rooms were decorated with valentines which had accumulated in the household through fourteen years and others prepared for the purpose. after the choice of partners, masks were removed, and all marched to the dining-room, keeping time to a pretty march. it being a birthday party, the ever new feature, the birthday cake, with its candles, graced the centre of the table, the cake being white decorated with red hearts and red candles. three kinds of small cakes and wafers (all heart-shaped), a plate of each at either end of the table, made up that part of the refreshments. cocoa in small cups and ice cream in heart-shaped molds completed the repast. confectionery in the predominating color and shape was also on the table. the table decorations consisted of red carnations, ferns and smilax, and were added to by the souvenirs which were laid at the left of each plate. these were prepared by our family artist for the occasion, and were red, heart-shaped affairs with gold borders, in the centre a small sketch in oil, below a line of poetry, and each one numbered. these were connected by ribbon (running to the centre of the table) to buttonhole bouquets, carnations and smilax, which with ferns formed the flat centrepiece. at the ends as many as were convenient were arranged around the end dishes. much merriment was created by some reading the lines on their souvenirs. upon leaving the table each guest adjusted the ribbon about her neck, which brought the bouquet to its proper place "across the heart." after returning to the parlors the guests were requested to read the lines which they had found upon their souvenirs, and of which some had been wondering the meaning; by beginning with no. and reading in rotation a well-known poem was completed. as you will see, this form of amusement, with the character representations, goes far toward an evening's entertainment. young people consider a party incomplete without a prize winning contest of some sort. the one i will describe was adopted. pencils and slips of paper were distributed, each bearing the name of a book or song, and numbered; then pieces of drawing paper were handed around, the first slips being collected, and each person was requested to make a drawing representing the book or song, and putting his number on it. these were gathered and pinned up for exhibition. the best drawing won a prize. then the person that, upon inspecting the drawings, could give correctly the names of the most books or songs they represented (more paper being passed for this purpose) received a prize. the remainder of the evening was filled in by music, singing and games of the guests' own choosing. when the time of departure came, all wished they might enjoy it "all over again." university luncheon a yale luncheon given last christmastide was a brilliant success. the ideas may be utilized for the entertainment of students from any college, merely changing the colors. our decision was to have no flowers, not even a palm, and to keep the entire house in harmony of coloring. fortunately for our scheme, every room had a quiet gray or bluish paper, and in carpets, furniture and hangings there was not a touch of color that would clash with the blue of yale. our first bit of luck was the loan of a huge bundle of yale flags and bunting from the college men's club. a flag, with a great white "yale" on it, we stretched across one end of the sitting-room, another, as immense as a campaigning banner, draped the west wall of the dining-room. the stairs were garlanded with blue bunting, and all over the house fluttered little class flags bearing dates that ran from ' to ' . we allowed bunches of mistletoe tucked cunningly under gas fixtures. holly was out of the question: it would have suggested harvard. serving luncheon at one was an innovation, but an excellent one. when the dishes were cleared away the anxiety was over, and the hostess moved about among her guests without a thought of a meal to be served at the end of the games. we set ten small tables, three in the dining-room, four in the sitting-room, two in the parlor and one in the hall. the tables were snowily linened, there were doilies in blue and white, and the centrepiece on each table was a glass dish filled with small bunches of splendid blue and white grapes. there was nothing blue to be found in the fruit or flower kingdom except these, and the coloring was superb. all the dishes we used were handsome old-fashioned willow ware, solid dark blue, or mottled blue china. valentine entertainment two dozen couples make a very goodly company of young folks for a pleasant little evening; therefore, send out invitations to that number. the cards of invitation might have on them, either in india ink or water-colors, an arrow-pierced heart, a whole heart or a broken one; even a cluster of them, like fishes on a string, according to the pleasure of the hostess. for each of the twelve young ladies invited, select a rôle that she will impersonate; for instance, we will say that the twelve characters to be represented are: . queen of hearts. . gypsy. . nun. . bicycle girl. . summer girl. . colonial girl. . poster girl. . widow. . old maid. . trained nurse. . columbia. . valentine. number twelve can be either a sentimental or a comic character. if the latter, a good deal of amusement may be derived by getting a younger brother or some mischievous boy to represent this character. have the young ladies gather at the home of the hostess somewhat earlier than the men present themselves, and when the latter have assembled in the parlors pass a tray around to them containing a dozen cards, on each of which is written a couplet. these couplets are suggestive of the rôles the young ladies play, and each gentleman may select such a couplet as he sees fit. when all the cards have been taken, the young men in rotation read aloud the couplet each has chosen, and after the reading of the couplet the one representing it is brought into the parlor by the hostess and introduced to the reader, who has thus chosen her as his valentine. among the pleasant features of the supper a "valentine cake" may be introduced with good effect. a nicely iced cake, decorated with candy hearts having sentimental mottoes on them, should be divided into twenty-four slices before it is brought to the table. in the slices for the young girls to draw make a small slit with the sharp blade of a knife, and insert into the opening a slip of paper on which is written the name of some young man who is present. in those slices the men are to draw are such small articles as denote the sort of wife fate has chosen to be each one's partner for life. thus, a silver coin signifies wealth; a scrap of silk, a fashionable wife; a penny, poverty; a tiny spoon, a good housekeeper; a pen, a literary woman; a small silver heart, a marriage for love; a small brush, an artistic wife; a tiny mirror, a vain woman; a piece of crape, a widow, etc. first a young lady chooses a slice of cake, then the man whose name she draws selects one and learns the kind of life-partner he is to have. much merriment may be derived from such a cake. valentine fun this description of a valentine entertainment will be welcomed by those who desire novel and original ideas. we were received in a room decorated with wreaths of green, hung in festoons caught up at regular intervals by ribbon streamers. from the centre of each wreath hung hearts of parchment paper, tinted in blue and lettered in gold, each bearing a number and a fate or fortune. suspended from a portière rod between the hall and reception room were three hearts formed of heavy wire and carefully entwined with evergreen; above each one was a jingle. the first said: blow your bubble right through here and you'll be married before another year. above the second was: to be engaged this very week number two is the one to take. and the third had: a sad, an awful fate awaits the one who seeks me, for he or she will ever a spinster or bachelor be. on a small table near by was an immense bowl filled with sparkling soapsuds, and also clay pipes decorated with little blue hearts. we first threw the bubbles off the pipes and then tried to blow them through the hearts with pretty little fans which were presented to us; none of us found this easy to do, but it was lots of fun, even if after all our efforts we saw our bubble float through number three instead of one or two, where we meant it to go. after this came a still merrier game. a low scrap-basket was placed in the centre of the room, and the company arranged into opposing parties, forming two half circles around the basket. cardboard hearts in two different colors were given the sides, an equal number to each side. we were then requested to try to throw them in the basket, and all endeavored to do so, but found they had a tantalizing way of landing on the floor. when we had exhausted our cards those in the basket were counted, and the side having the most of its own color won the game. after this a small blackboard was placed on an easel at one end of the room, and we were each in turn blindfolded, and handed a piece of chalk with which to draw an outline of a heart, and to write our name in the centre; the one doing the best to have a prize of a large candy heart. the partners for supper were chosen in a novel manner, the men being numbered, and the names of the girls written on slips of paper, rolled in clay in little pellets, then dropped into a bowl of water; the one to rise first belonged to the young man numbered one, and so on until each had his valentine. a "good luck" supper was served in an adjoining room. directly over the table, suspended from the chandelier, hung a floral horseshoe. in the centre of the table and at each end were fairy lamps surrounded by smaller horseshoes. the guest-cards were square envelopes, at one side a painted horseshoe, and below, "when good luck knocks at the door let him in and keep him there." the souvenirs were clover-leaf stick pins, and everything connected with the supper bore a symbol of good luck, the bonbons, cakes, and sandwiches taking the forms of either a clover-leaf or a horseshoe. on opening the envelopes, we found an amusing valentine illustrated by a pen-and-ink sketch, showing the artistic skill of one of the members of the family. after supper a tray, containing as many numbers as there were guests, was passed, and we each took a heart with a corresponding number from the decorations on the wall and read aloud the fortune found there. these were very clever, and some surprisingly appropriate. valentine party--danish the "town club" was surprised by receiving white cards decorated with cherry-colored ribbon and danish flag inviting them to a "danish valentine party." the predominating colors were cherry color and white, being the danish national colors. decorations of the house were of cherry-colored and white hearts and vinter-gjaek (snowdrops), the first danish flower of the season. the hearts were strung in the parlor, reception-room and dining-room. the archway between parlor and reception-room was draped with the american and danish flags. in the centre of each room hung four large-sized hearts, cherry-colored and white, with a gilt arrow thrust through. in the dining-room the hearts were strung in the same way, the lamp shade being of cherry-colored crepe paper. the table was decorated with vinter-gjaek. the girls wore short skirts and bodices of cherry-colored cambric and white flannel blouses with full sleeves. the hair was worn in two braids, crossed and tucked into the fronts of the bodices with knots of vinter-gjaek fastened into each braid just where it came over the shoulder. the boys wore dark coats and trousers, with white vests. at the door was placed a box for valentines; as each guest came he dropped his valentine into the box with the name of the person who was to receive it. first for amusement was "shadow pictures," the guessing of each boy's and girl's profile. white cards with numbers in cherry ink and small cherry-colored pencils were passed to each. as the shadow was thrown upon the sheet the name was written after the number on the card. prizes were given for the most correct guesses. the girls' prize was a cherry-colored satin pin cushion in the shape of a heart; the boys', an earthen pig. then small white cards were passed tied with cherry-colored ribbon and vinter-gjaek, each card containing a verse and below this the initials of a name pricked out with a pin. by guessing the names they stood for, each knew his or her valentine for the evening. it was great fun. lots were gjaeket (fooled). the verse on the cards read: "sir knight, would'st know thy lady's name, these pin pricks tell thee whence i came." then all were asked to the dining-room, where they found the following supper awaiting them served in danish style: coffee water bummernickle (black rye bread) white bread with grated cheese, tied with cherry-colored ribbon bakte bomner (baked beans) pickles bakte avola (baked apples) pop-corn avele-skiever (doughnuts) head-cheese souvenirs--three white candy hearts containing verses, tied with cherry-colored ribbon. after supper the valentines brought by the guests were distributed. music and a flashlight picture of the "town club" completed the entertainment. then all departed with light hearts. valentine sociable invitations should be sent out for the th of february. each guest is requested to bring a valentine, and as they enter the room, they should drop them into a basket which should be ready to receive them. these can be sent later to some poor school or mission to be given out to poor children, who otherwise would get none. a small room can be fitted up for a studio, and as the guests arrive, they are invited into this room to have their pictures taken. a committee should be appointed to do this work. this can be done by having the shadow of the head in profile thrown on a sheet of paper tacked to the wall. the artist then sketches it with pencil and cuts it out. after all have arrived and have had their pictures taken, paper and pencil are passed around, and the guests are asked to guess the identity of each picture. the pictures are then given to the owners as keepsakes. a nice idea is for the gentlemen to write a valentine verse on the portraits of the ladies, or make up some comic poetry. a sale of hearts is also a cute idea. buy small hearts with a valentine couplet on each; these being read aloud, each heart is to be sold to the person who first completes its couplet; for instance, "'tis better to have loved and lost," the person finishing it as "than never to have loved at all." the one guessing the greatest number of couplets can be given a small box of heart-shaped candies. partners can be chosen for supper by having each lady write her name on a slip of paper, and putting all the slips into a hat; each gentleman will take to supper the one whose name he draws from the hat. a pretty souvenir can be given each guest in the form of a small heart-shaped valentine. refreshments can be suggestive of the day also. they can consist of sandwiches cut in heart-shape, tied with red baby ribbon, bright-red apples, cherry ice, lady fingers, kisses and small heart-shaped candies. a card on each dish could carry out the idea in the following manner: sandwiches--"heart bread." apples--"love apples." cherry ice--"frozen heart's blood." lady fingers--"love's caresses." kisses--"lovers' sweets." candies--"love's sweet compound." variety of little misses . what miss causes in turn amusements and quarrels? (mis-chief) . what miss is distrustful of human nature? (mis-anthrope) . what miss undervalues her opportunities? (mis-appreciate) . what miss is not always honest? (mis-appropriate) . what miss is provoking and a blunderer? (mis-take) . what miss can destroy the peace of home, school and nation? (mis-rule) . what miss is responsible for gross errors? (mis-doing) . what miss wastes times and money? (mis-spend) . what miss causes her mother sorrow? (mis-conduct) . what miss proves an uncertain correspondent? (mis-direct) . what miss should the traveler shun? (mis-guide) . what miss is unhappy? (mis-fortune) . what miss is distinguished as uncivil and ill-bred? (mis-behave) . what miss gives unreliable information? (mis-call) . what miss meets with ill-luck and delay? (mis-adventure) . what miss is untruthful? (mis-represent) vegetable party over the table was an italian green-grocer's sign, and the smiling attendants were dressed to represent italian women. the table was loaded with fruits and vegetables, all made of tissue paper. the stock included pumpkins, squashes, cabbages, cauliflower, curly lettuce, beets, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, radishes, oranges, and grapes. the vegetables sold for five or ten cents, according to size and contents, for each contained a prize. the radishes and grapes were candies covered with the proper shade of paper and tied in bunches. there was enough mystery about the contents of these artificial vegetables and fruits to make them sell. one person might open a cucumber and find a child's handkerchief rolled within, but if a neighbor bought one, hoping to secure a handkerchief, he would be quite as likely to find a china doll. the proceeds of this sale were donated to charity. a slip of paper entitled "vegetables in disguise" was passed to each guest, and twenty-five minutes allotted for puzzling out the answers. the following is the list the paper contained: a pronoun preceded and followed by a preposition. (onion) a painful projection. (corn) hard to get out of. (maize [maze]) what vegetables should see a great deal, and why? (potatoes. they have so many eyes) a basement and a question. (celery [cellar-why]) every good chinaman has my first. my second is to overload. (cucumber [queue-cumber]) a bivalve and a vegetable growth. (oyster plant) normal, and a very small piece. (parsnip) a small waste. (leek [leak]) a letter. (pea [p]) a boy, a letter, and a part of the body? (tomato [tom-a-toe]) yielding water, and connections? (pumpkin) to crush. (squash) a purple part of the year, and sick. (lentil [lent-ill]) a tour on your wheel, and years. (spinach [spin-age]) hot stuff. (pepper) an english dignity, and a platter. (radish [r. a. dish]) a hen. (egg plant) tramps. (beets) the supper, as one would expect at a vegetable party, consisted of vegetarian dishes only, but it was surprising to find how attractive and how palatable these were. wedding anniversaries in planning for anniversaries there are many and unique ways in which they may be carried out. everything that accompanies the anniversary being celebrated should be used. always use a decided color and try to carry out the color scheme in the refreshments, the decorations, and the costumes. there are many suitable suggestions in the book from which to choose, in the way of both decoration and entertainment, besides the following. first anniversary--cotton wedding the invitations for the cotton wedding may be written in ink on well-starched cotton cloth. cut the pieces to fit regular-sized envelopes. you may request the guests to wear cotton costumes, if you wish, to add to the effect. decorate the rooms with cheese-cloth of several colors gracefully festooned about the walls, and with the southern cotton-balls if you can get them. the married couple may stand under a canopy made of wire covered with cotton wadding to represent snow, and wear cotton costumes, and the wife may carry a bouquet of cotton flowers. artificial flowers made of cotton may be used, too, for decoration. cover the refreshment table with cheese-cloth, and have place-cards written on prettily decorated pieces of starched muslin. you could have a spider hunt for an appropriate entertainment. for this, as you probably know, you provide balls of cotton twine, and wind the twine all over the house. the guests have to untangle their respective balls, and wind them up until they come to the end of the string, where a gift is discovered. the gifts should be pretty conceits made of cotton--shoe-bags or work bags of pretty cretonne for the women, and picture frames of cretonne for the men, etc. second anniversary--paper wedding the second year is celebrated as a paper wedding. there are many ways a house can be decorated with paper. pretty colored paper shades can be made for all the gas jets (or lamp chimneys), flower-pots can be trimmed with fancy crepe paper, butterflies can be made from stiff colored paper, doilies can be designed from fancy paper, and paper napkins can be used in many ways. whatever is used for refreshments paper napkins can be placed on each dish under the food; tumblers can be wrapped around with paper and tied with a dainty little ribbon. plenty of paper flowers can be used for decoration. the tablecloth may be of paper, edged with paper lace, the centrepiece of paper roses, the candle-shades composed of their petals, while the ices may be served in boxes held in the hearts of paper roses. for entertainment, large mottoes containing paper caps may be distributed. these should be put on, and with their assumption a character impersonated by each wearer appropriate to the headgear. the guesses are recorded in paper booklets and the person most successful may receive a prize--a book or any paper trifle. fourth anniversary--leather wedding the fourth year is observed as a leather wedding. invitations sent out for this anniversary can have a small piece of leather enclosed in envelope. a unique idea is to have a leather saddle hung in the centre of the room, with a leather whip and riding gloves. as souvenirs small pieces of leather with the date of the wedding, also the date of the anniversary, stamped or written upon them, and tied with white baby ribbon, may be distributed. small leather calendars can be made, also heart-shaped leather pen-wipers with small paintings on them. appropriate presents for the married couple would be leather purses, hand-bags, shoes, satchels, pocketbooks, lunch boxes, traveling cases, etc., and do not forget a leather smoking case for the host. a burnt-leather box or basket filled with yellow flowers or growing ferns would not be ill-adapted for a centrepiece for the refreshment table, and leatherette receptacles, if made in sections tied together with ribbons matching the flowers, would be pretty for the bonbons, cakes and salted nuts. the place-cards may be of leather with the names in heavy gilt lettering. a game or contest is usually enjoyed, and the award of a trifling prize to the victor makes a pleasant climax to the evening's fun. in this case the article should, of course, be of leather. fifth anniversary--wooden wedding a description is given of an actual wooden wedding anniversary celebrated recently. the invitations were printed on paper that looked like wood. in fact it looked so much like it that it could hardly be told from wood. for decorations as much real wood was utilized as possible. in one large archway were hung twelve wooden plates, each with a painting on, and joined with white ribbon. twelve young ladies served on the reception committee and the twelve plates were given them as souvenirs before they departed. in another archway there was a toothpick curtain which attracted much attention. this was made on silk cord with the toothpicks tied about two inches apart, crossways, with a small loop in the cord. they were draped back and tied with a bunch of silk cord. in the small doorways were clothes-pin curtains. a large wire bell, covered with shavings and goldenrod, hung from a canopy of the same, under which the bride and groom stood to receive their guests. a large wooden flower-stand was placed in the reception hall and it was banked with goldenrod and cut flowers, with a large palm on top shelf. several wooden bowls and baskets of goldenrod and cut flowers were scattered about the house. on the mantels, stands, table, sideboard, and piano, were large palms and goldenrod. all the chairs had been moved out of the house, except in the dining-room, where they were arranged around the wall. in the centre of the room was the polished table, with neat doilies, and for a centrepiece was a large yellow cake with the figure " " in wood. this cake stood on a high cake-stand and around the edge of the stand were a row of clothes-pins, the kind with a spring, and a row of toothpicks sticking all around the edge of the cake. on two corners of the table were little wooden shoes filled with cut flowers, and on the two diagonally opposite corners were large apples stuck full of toothpicks. the guests were seated in the dining-room for refreshments and as soon as it was filled, the reception committee closed it with a large rope of goldenrod across the doorway. for refreshments ice cream and cake were served on wooden plates with wooden spoons. the ice cream was made to look like wood, the caterer using a mixture of vanilla, chocolate, bisque and lemon flavors. the different kinds of cake were also made to look like different kinds of wood, such as walnut, oak, cherry, and so forth. the souvenirs were large wooden butter moulds on which were printed the year of marriage and the year of celebration. an orchestra of eight pieces played all through the evening, under a canopy of white cloth on the porch, the porch being carpeted and curtained like a room. seventh anniversary--woolen wedding the woolen wedding comes with the seventh anniversary. the material is not effective, but the invitations may be worked in crewels on perforated bristol-board. the "cobweb party" might be revived, using colored yarns instead of cords, and placing a "fortune" as well as a favor at the end of each. some unfortunate swain might, perhaps, find a huge worsted mitten, guided in his choice of yarn by one in the secret to insure its selection by a man. on the refreshment table a large wedding-cake crowned by a "bo-peep" doll with her flock of toy sheep would suggest the "woolly" idea. tenth anniversary--tin wedding these wedding invitations can be written or printed, and sent out ten days beforehand, either enclosing a piece of tin, or wrapped in tin foil. the bride and groom should receive their guests, the bride carrying her bouquet in a tin funnel. the groom can wear a small tin horn in his buttonhole with a small bouquet. the author intends to celebrate her tin wedding this fall, and this is what she intends to have. for refreshments, will serve coffee in tin cups, with tin spoons, and dainty sandwiches on tin plates; will pass water in a tin pail, using a tin dipper. all refreshments will be passed in tin pans, the waiters will use tin coffee pots to refill the coffee cups. for a centrepiece for the table, will use a large tin cake pan, with an opening in the centre, in which a small fish horn can be placed, the cake pan and fish horn both being filled with flowers. shall decorate the rooms with tin as far as possible. in one archway shall use tin plates tied together with ribbon, a small hole being punched in the plates for the purpose. this will form a curtain for one archway. in another archway shall use tin cups for the same purpose. tin candlesticks can be used, if one is fortunate enough to have them. wire toasters tied with ribbon can be hung on the walls to hold photographs. small tin spoons tied with ribbons can be given as souvenirs, being passed around by the waiters, in a tin dust pan. potted plants can be set in tin pails, and tin cans can be used for bouquets. a tin wash basin can be passed for a finger bowl. tin foil can also be used with which to decorate. twelfth anniversary--linen wedding the invitations are written on squares of linen in indelible ink, and the name cards are also of linen. linen is used freely about the rooms, linen lace working into decorative schemes most effectively. the flax flower is, of course, conspicuous whenever it can be obtained. the artificial flower may be used in many places, as well as the natural blossoms. the centrepiece, doilies, etc., used on the table should be embroidered with flax flowers in natural colors. while the guests are at supper an old-fashioned spinning wheel should be brought into the parlors in readiness for a spinning contest, which may be conducted as described in the entertainment, "a spinning party." fifteenth anniversary--crystal wedding the invitations may be decorated with drawings of small hand-mirrors, tumblers, etc., and for the ornamentation of the house every conceivable kind of glass vessel and mirror may be used. in the table decorations cut or pressed glass should be prominent. in the centre of the table a small mirror might be placed, with a large glass bowl upon it filled with flowers. red carnations with red candle-shades make a very effective color scheme for the crystal background. little cakes with red icing, red bonbons, and red place cards may also be used. the refreshments should be served on glass dishes, the waiters using glass trays if possible. tiny glass bottles each containing a red carnation and a sprig of smilax make very appropriate souvenirs. should the bride desire an appropriate gown for the occasion, it may be trimmed with quantities of glass beads or the glass drops from a chandelier. those who assist in receiving might also be similarly garbed. twentieth anniversary--china wedding a good idea for a china wedding would be to have a course dinner and display all one's china. use china wherever it can be used instead of silver, glass, or other dishes. have plants and flowers displayed in china. a unique idea would be to give each guest a tiny china cup and saucer as a souvenir. any of the parlor entertainments or contests described in this volume may be used to pass the time pleasantly either before or after the dinner. twenty-fifth anniversary--silver wedding the invitations to a silver wedding should be headed by the two eventful dates printed in silver. for the decorations, use any flowers which may be in season, surrounding the mirrors and pictures as far as possible with a framework of green spangled with silver. cover all the lamps and gas shades with white crepe paper flecked here and there with silver, and suspend balls covered with silver paper from the chandeliers. let the daughters in the family, and the granddaughters if there be any, wear gowns of simplest white, with draperies of silver tinsel. if there happen to be any grandchildren it would be well to have them distribute the favors, which may be bouquets of flowers tied with white ribbons. the refreshments should be served shortly after the guests arrive. a suitable way to announce that supper is served will be to have the wedding march played, when the bride and groom of the evening may be requested to lead the way to the dining-room. the supper-table should be lighted with white candles in silver candelabra, and the snowy tablecloth be crossed diagonally with white satin ribbon edged with silver. upon a pretty centrepiece of silver-spangled tulle may be placed a silver or glass bowl containing twenty-five white roses. dishes of white cakes and candies, and old-fashioned mottoes covered with silver paper may be scattered plentifully about the table. the large cake should be decorated in white and silver, and placed upon a silver dish in front of the bride of twenty-five years ago, who alone should be permitted to cut it. there is no limit to the presents which may be sent in honor of a silver wedding, but no guest need be deterred from appearing because of her inability to send a present; her good wishes will please the host and hostess quite as well as an elaborate gift. pretty souvenirs of a silver wedding are bookmarks of white satin ribbon, upon each one of which is printed in silver the name of the guest and the dates of the anniversary he or she has been helping to celebrate. fiftieth anniversary--golden wedding invitations to a golden wedding should be written or printed on golden hued cards. let the bride wear a dress of golden hue, or, if she dislikes such bright colors, let her use plenty of yellow flowers in her hair and on her dress. the groom should also wear yellow flowers. two armchairs decorated with straw might be used for the seats of honor. have the home decorated with goldenrod if in season, if not, any yellow flower can be used; if the season for sunflowers, they are very pretty for decoration. let those who help serve wear yellow dresses or plenty of yellow flowers. a large yellow cake could be used for a centrepiece, banked with yellow flowers; use brass candlesticks with yellow candles. plenty of flowers or yellow paper should be used for the gas jets, lamp shades and picture frames. refreshments might consist of yellow cake, lemonade, and yellow candy. pretty souvenirs would be a yellow carnation for each guest. wedding of the operas each guest was given a double card or booklet with pencil attached, the cover representing a miniature sheet of music. upon one page was a list of numbered questions, the answers to be written upon the opposite page, suggested by selections from well-known operas and operettas played upon the piano or other instrument. the names of the operas from which the selections were taken answered the questions. the following were the questions: . who were the bride and groom? . what was the bride called--from the circumstances of her wedding? . at what sort of party did they meet? . he went as a minstrel. what was he called? . she went as an austrian peasant. what was she called? . at the wedding what spanish girl was maid of honor? . what noted swiss was best man? . what two ladies (friends of donizetti's) were bridesmaids? . what four germans were the ushers? . what mythological personage presided over the music? . who sang at the ceremony? . what noted person from japan was present? . what noted bells were rung in honor of the wedding? . what ship did they take for their wedding trip? . when on the voyage who captured them? . what virtue sustained them in captivity? . what gentleman of dark complexion rescued them? . what historical people entertained them in france? . in northeast italy what grand affair did they attend? . who showed them the sights of venice? and the music gave answer, as follows: . romeo and juliet. . the runaway girl. . masked ball. . trovatore. . the bohemian girl. . carmen. . william tell. . lucia di lammermoor and linda di chamouni. . lohengrin, faust, tannhäuser and siegfried. . orpheus. . the meistersinger. . the mikado. . the chimes of normandy. . h. m. s. pinafore. . the pirates of penzance. . patience. . othello. . the huguenots. . the carnival of venice. . the gondoliers. which is your age what is the best age for a girl or boy? (espionage) to what age will people arrive if they live long enough? (dotage) to what age do most women look forward with anxiety? (marriage) what age has the soldier often to find? (courage) what age is required on the high seas? (tonnage) what age are we forbidden to worship? (image) what age is not less or more? (average) what is the age people are stuck on? (mucilage) what age is both profane and destructive? (damage) at what age are vessels to ride safe? (anchorage) what age is necessary to the clergyman? (parsonage) what age is one of communication? (postage) what age is most important to travelers by rail? (mileage) what is the age now popular for charity? (coinage) what age is shared by the doctor and the thief? (pillage) what age do we all wish for? (homage) what age is slavery? (hostage) what age is most enjoyed at the morning meal? (beverage) what is the most indigestible age? (sausage) which is your aunt (ant) . what is the oldest ant? (adam-ant) . what ant hires his home? (tenant) . what ant is joyful? (jubilant) . what ant is learned? (savant) . what ant is well-informed? (conversant) . what ant is trustworthy? (confidant) . what ant is proud? (arrogant) . what ant sees things? (observant) . what ant is angry? (indignant) . what ant tells things? (informant) . what ant is successful? (triumphant) . what ant is an officer? (commandant) . what ant is a beggar? (mendicant) . what ant is obstinate? (defiant) . what ant is youngest? (infant) . what is the ruling ant? (dominant) . what is the wandering ant? (errant) . what ant lives in a house? (occupant) . what ant points out things? (significant) . what ant is prayerful? (supplicant) which is your city . what city is for few people? (scarcity) . for happy people? (felicity) . for hypocrites? (duplicity) . for chauffeurs? (velocity) . for truthful people? (veracity) . for athletes? (elasticity) . for greedy people? (voracity) . for wild beasts? (ferocity) . for home lovers? (domesticity) . for actors? (publicity) . for reporters? (audacity) . for wise people? (sagacity) . for hungry people? (capacity) . for telegraph operators? (electricity) . for crowds? (multiplicity) . for nations? (reciprocity) . for odd people? (eccentricity) . for beggars? (mendicity) . for unhappy people? (infelicity) . for office seekers? (pertinacity) the names of cities and their nicknames may also be used, thus: boston, "the hub"; philadelphia, "the city of homes"; detroit, "city of the straits"; cincinnati, "queen city of the west"; chicago, "windy city," or "garden city"; buffalo, "queen city"; cleveland, "forest city"; pittsburg, "smoky city"; washington, "city of magnificent distances"; milwaukee, "cream city"; new york, "gotham"; minneapolis, "falls city"; st. louis, "mound city"; san francisco, "golden gate"; new orleans, "crescent city." white ribbon sociable invitations should be similar to the following: _yourself and friends are cordially invited to attend a white ribbon sociable given by the y. w. c. t. u. at the home of the president, miss blank, monday evening, september , --._ have a small white ribbon bow tied on the corner of the card. of course all members of the society should wear their white ribbons. all who serve on the reception committee should wear a large white ribbon rosette. also have a white ribbon quartet for the musical part of the program, and have each one wear a large white ribbon bow on the left breast. have plenty of white flowers for decoration, also use anything white that can be used in any way to help decorate. have a large bowl or white dish in centre of dining-table with small white baby ribbons hanging over the edge, one for each guest you expect. tie to the end of each ribbon a small slip of paper bearing instructions as to what each one is to do. each guest is to pull out a slip, see what he is to do, and then proceed to do it at once. cover the top of the dish neatly with white tissue paper. wafers can be served tied with narrow white ribbon, also coffee or cocoa, or if in summer serve lemonade. the following suggestions may be used for the slips of paper: . act in pantomime a doctor's visit. . make a dunce cap and put on head of dignified person. . deliver an oration on george washington. . sing "mary had a little lamb," in operatic style. . draw a correct picture of a cow. . tell a funny story. . sing a lullaby to a sofa cushion. . sing a comic song. . compose a rhyme with four lines. . tell a pathetic story. . make a shadow picture of a man's head on the wall with the hands. . show how a small boy cries when a hornet stings him. . sneeze in five different ways. . shake hands with ten different persons in ten different styles. . recite "the boy stood on the burning deck," in dramatic style. . laugh ten varieties of laugh. . imitate the sounds made by two cats fighting. . show how a man acts when he is lost in boston. . smile ten different smiles. . tip your hat in ten different ways to ten different people. . show how a dude walks. . auction off an overcoat. . try to sell a book as if you were a book agent. . show how a boy writes his first letter. . name ten things you could do with a million dollars. why we never married an evening's entertainment to be given by seven maids and seven bachelors (copyright, , by the curtis publishing company and republished by courtesy of the _ladies' home journal_) although this entertainment is here planned to include fourteen people, the number of those who take part in it may, of course, be reduced to as few or increased to as many as desired, either by omitting one or more of the couples already provided for, or by including more couples and composing additional verses for them. the characters appear seated in a semicircle, a young man first, then a young woman, and so on alternately, beginning at the right as one faces the audience. each one is dressed in a fashion appropriate to the character represented. starting with the first young man at the right, each advances in turn to the front and recites. number one says: "of all the girls that ever i knew, i never saw one that i thought would do. i wanted a wife that was nice and neat, that was up to date, and that had small feet; i wanted a wife that was loving and kind, and that hadn't too much original mind; i wanted a wife that could cook and sew, and that wasn't eternally on the go; i wanted a wife that just loved to keep house, and that wasn't too timid to milk the cows; i wanted a wife that was strikingly beautiful, intelligent, rich, and exceedingly dutiful. that isn't so much to demand in a wife, but still she's not found, though i've looked all my life." number two next recites: "the only reason why i've never wed is as clear as the day, and as easily said: two lovers i had who'd have made me a bride, but the trouble was just that i couldn't decide; whenever john came i was sure it was he that i cared for most; but with charlie by me, my hands clasped in his, and his eyes fixed on mine, 'twas as easy as could be to say, 'i'll be thine.' now tell me what was a poor maiden to do, who couldn't, to save her, make choice 'tween the two? i dillied and dallied, and couldn't decide, till john, he got married, and charlie, he died; and that is the reason why i've never wed; for how could i help it, as every one said, when john, he was married, and charlie was dead." number three now speaks: "i have never proposed to any girl. was i to be caught in the snare of a curl, and dangle through life in a dizzy whirl? "humph! i know too much for that by half! i may look young, but i'm not a calf; you can't catch a bird like me with chaff. "i know their tricks, i know their arts, i know how they scheme to capture hearts; i know they can play a dozen parts. "how do i know so much, you ask? to reply to that isn't much of a task; for if you must know, o madams and misters, i'm the only brother of fourteen sisters." number four advances and says: "my lovers came from near and far, and sued before my feet; they told me i was like a star; they said that i was sweet; and each one swore if i'd accept his heart and eke his hand, that he would be the happiest man throughout the whole broad land. but one proud youth remained aloof, and stood untouched, unmoved; oh, bitter fate! he was the one, the only one i loved! i tried on him each winning charm, i put forth every art, but all in vain; he turned away, and took with him my heart. this is the reason i am left alone upon the tree, like withered fruit, though not a pear; oh, would that i might be!" number five recites these lines: "the only reason why i've never married is because all my plans for proposing miscarried; i wouldn't propose till all was propitious, till i felt pretty sure that the signs were auspicious. more than once i've been moved to propound the fond query, 'won't you tell me you love me, my beautiful dearie?' when just at that moment came something or other, a ring at the bell, or a call from her mother, or the sudden approach of her infantile brother, my words to arrest, my intentions to smother; and once, when a few leading questions i'd asked, she laughed as if jokes in my questions were masked; i couldn't conceive what had caused her commotion, but 'twas so disconcerting i gave up the notion; although i felt certain as certain could be, that whatever she laughed at, it was not at me." number six then says: "from my earliest years i've had an intuition that i was intended to carry out a mission. whatever it might be i hadn't the least notion, but i searched for it faithfully from ocean to ocean. for a while i kept thinking that i was surely meant to preach to the heathen, but i never was sent. then the surging thoughts and feelings that upon me seemed to press surely proved beyond all question that i was a poetess; but the editors were cruel, they were stonily unkind; and their inappreciation drove the notion from my mind. now i'm sure that i'm a speaker; 'tis my latest great impression; and i'd like to prove it to you, if i might without digression; but whatever is my mission, i've been certain all my life, that 'tis something higher, nobler, than to be a slaving wife." number seven speaks thus: "i used to call on mary jane when i was seventeen; and mary jane was fond of me, though i was rather green. one day i told her why i came, and what was my intent; and then she said that i must go and get her pa's consent. her pa, he was a mason rude, well used to handling bricks, and when i came to talk with him my courage went to sticks. 'k-kind sir, may i have m-mary jane?' i asked with gasp and stutter; then came an earthquake, then a blank-- i went home on a shutter. i never married mary jane, the maid whom i'd selected; the reason was because her pa-- well, so to speak--objected." number eight next advances: "i fully intended a bride to be, but richard and i could never agree; he fussed at me daily in fault-finding mood, and i picked at him though i knew it was rude; he thought that a woman ought always to do just what her husband wanted her to, and i was as set and decided as he, that that way of life would never suit me; and so we kept wrangling all summer and fall, and at last we agreed not to marry at all; and that is the reason you now find me here, feeling cheap, i admit, and i once was so dear." number nine speaks as follows: "could i give up all the pleasures that a single man may claim? could i see my bachelor treasures sniffed at by a scornful dame? could i have my choice havanas bandied all about the place, strewn around like cheap bananas, looked upon as a disgrace? could i bear to find a hairpin sticking in my shaving-mug? or a pair of high-heeled slippers lying on my persian rug? would i want my meditations broken up by cries of fright at a mouse or daddy-long-legs, or some other fearful sight? no, i couldn't, and i wouldn't, and i didn't, as you see; of every life, the bachelor's life is just the life for me." number ten says: "my lovers were plenty as plenty could be; but of the whole number not one suited me; john was too fat, joe was too thin, and george, who'd have done, was without any 'tin'; dick was a sinner, and james was a saint, who, whenever i shocked him, looked ready to faint; charles was quite handsome, the likeliest yet, but he always was smoking a vile cigarette; that i'm very particular 'tis easy to see, which all should remember who come to court me." number eleven now advances: "first it was carrie who claimed my heart, and i thought from her i never would part; then it was rose, with her winsome eyes of an azure as deep as the tropic skies; and next it was alice, so mild and meek; i loved her fondly for nearly a week; then came elizabeth's fickle reign, and after her mary and kate and jane; a dozen more for a time held sway, sometimes for a month, sometimes for a day; and yet i'm not married; for, truth to tell, i could make no choice, i loved all so well." number twelve speaks thus: "i never would marry the best of men; though they've tried to persuade me again and again; i know too well what's good for me to wed any man, whoever he be; if he tells you he loves you, he means to deceive you; if he says he'll be faithful, he's planning to leave you; you may think him as meek as ever was moses; you may think him as sweet as a garden of roses; you may think him as good as good can be; but just remember one word from me; whatever they seem to be or have been, you just can't tell one thing about men." number thirteen and number fourteen advance together, and the former speaks first as follows: "i've been in love with lots of girls, a bachelor's life i hate; i've all the time that i could want to find and win a mate; i've never come in contact with a brick-objecting pa, or been deterred by brothers small or loudly calling ma; i've never found it hard to choose with whom i would be mated; oh, no, 'tis quite another cause-- i'm not appreciated; i've popped the question o'er and o'er, but if you will believe me, there wasn't one of all of them that i could get to have me. and that is why i'm left alone, now love's young dream is gone, to darn my hose and mend my clo'es and sew my buttons on." then number fourteen says: "my friends have all told you the reason why they keep on in a lonesome, old-maidenly way, without any husband to lighten their loads, without any helper to smooth the rough roads; i, too, am unmarried, but not for the causes that they have all stated in rhythmical clauses: my lover didn't die, and he never went away; my father didn't stand a moment in my way; i've never quarreled once, nor been bothered to decide, but i've got a first-class reason why i've never been a bride; at any kind of mission i wouldn't even glance; the simple truth is this-- i've never had a chance; other folks, i s'pose, have had 'em, but they've never come to me; though i don't see why they shouldn't, for i'm willing as can be; and all i've got to say is, and i say it frank and free, if you think i won't get married, just you question me and see." at the close of number fourteen's recitation, all rise and stand in two rows, facing each other, the ladies in one row and the gentlemen in the other. the gentlemen then recite in concert as follows: "since we all are yet unmated, and are getting on in years, why not now decide the matter by dividing up in pairs? if i ask you to accept me, and my lonely life to bless, will you? will you? will you?" ladies in chorus: "yes!" each lady takes the arm of the gentleman facing her, and all walk off to the music of the wedding march. wife of santa claus an entertainment for the sunday-school the sunday-school, school or club is assembled; the stage is concealed by a curtain, and the christmas tree, which is near the stage, by another curtain or screen. the tree is decorated in the usual manner, minus the gifts, which are concealed near the stage ready to be delivered when the right time comes. the tree need not be lighted until the closing of any preliminary exercises that have been arranged. after lighting, the tree should be exposed to the view of all. when the children have gazed at it for a few moments, the superintendent or some other suitable person should come forward, as if to distribute the gifts as usual. he should survey the tree attentively and from different standpoints, and finally, with great astonishment, exclaim: "why, what in the world does this mean? what strange thing is this? what is the matter with my eyes? [_rubbing his eyes to see better._] i can't see! as true as i live, i cannot see a single christmas gift upon this tree! think of it, a christmas tree with no presents! am i growing blind? [_rubbing his eyes again._] "do you see any? [_turning to any child near._] well, i thought so! it is too true, children, that although we have a christmas tree, and a fine one, too, there is not a single gift upon it; no, not even a little one for a little bit of a girl! now, this is altogether too bad of santa claus to forget this sunday-school--when we've gotten all ready for him, too, lighted the tree and decorated it so beautifully! it isn't a bit like him, either. he never did such a thing before. he can't have forgotten us. the blessed old saint wouldn't do that! maybe his reindeer are lame and he is slow in getting here. no! he would have sent jack frost on ahead to tell us to wait. let me think a moment. it can't be that any of you children have been so naughty that he thinks we don't deserve a visit from him, can it? no, no, that cannot be; it is a mistake, somehow. it is very mysterious; i never heard of the like before--no, never---- "well, what are we going to do about it, anyway? can't some one speak up and explain this mystery, or at least tell us what to do to celebrate christmas?" at this juncture the sound of sleigh-bells is heard at the back or side of the stage, and a loud "whoa!" and a shrill whistle. there is an instant of bustling, crunching of ice, stamping and pawing of feet, then the door bursts open suddenly, as if by a gust of wind, and a nimble little fellow bounces in, clad all in red and flecked with tufts of cotton on cap and shoulders to look like snow. he wears a high, peaked cap of red with a bobbing tassel on the peak, and carries a long thong whip, which he flourishes in time to the rhyme he chants: "ho for us! hey for us! please clear the way for us! i'm jack frost from icicle-land, driver of santa's four-in-hand; though late you will ask no excuse." with a flourish he draws back the curtain, announcing "mrs. santa claus!" there, with a mammoth pumpkin standing by her side, is seen a beaming-faced little fat woman. she is dressed in a fur cloak, or fur-lined circular turned wrong side out, an ermine poke bonnet, made of white cotton-wool, with black worsted tails, and an immense muff of the same. she steps forward, and in a dramatic style delivers this address: mrs. santa claus's address "good-evening to you, children dear; i know you cannot guess the reason i am here to-night, and so i'll just confess that i am mrs. santa claus-- old santa claus's wife; you've never seen me here before, i'm sure, in all your life. "so if you'll listen patiently, i'll tell the reason why old santa could not come to-night, and why instead came i; he is so very busy now, has so many schools--you see he can't find time to visit all, and deck each christmas tree. "and so he said unto his wife: 'my faithful partner dear, that sunday-school's expecting me to help keep christmas cheer; as i can't possibly reach there, i'm disappointed quite; i know that they will look for me with shining eyes so bright!' "i, mrs. santa, thus replied: 'please let your better-half go visit that nice sunday-school; 'twill make the children laugh.' this plan just suited santa claus; he sent jack frost to drive; he knew what fun 'twould be for me among you thus to arrive! "and so, lest him you should forget, that blessed, dear old fellow the queerest christmas gift sends you, this pumpkin, big and yellow; he hopes that when you cut it up you'll quite delighted be, to find the inside quite different from what you're used to see. "now if the shell is not too hard i'll cut it open wide, that you may see with your own eyes this curious inside. [_she cuts it open._] ah, yes! we've found the inside now, and so present to view this fairy, who, from wonderland, has come to visit you." the fairy, a little girl dressed in white, with a wand, and wings, if possible, skips out of the pumpkin and sings: fairy's song (tune, "little buttercup") "yes i am a fairy, a genuine fairy, and if you cannot tell why i've come in this pumpkin, this big yellow pumpkin, the reason to guess you may try. "i bring you sweet tokens, yes, many fond tokens, of love and sweet friendship true; from sisters and brothers, fathers and mothers, and many dear friends who love you. "so here are your presents, your own christmas presents, with which you may now deck your tree, so please to remember the bright christmas fairy, the bright christmas fairy you see. "i wish you 'merry christmas,' a real merry christmas, and also a 'happy new-year;' if you love one another, each sister and brother, no harm from the fairies you'll fear." the gifts are then distributed by the fairy, who appears to take them from the inside of the pumpkin. unless the children are too small, and likely to be timid, they should go forward to receive their gifts when their names are called by the fairy, who apparently knows them all by name, but who is prompted by some one reading from a list standing behind the curtain close by her side. jack frost whisks about helping the fairy hand out the gifts and assisting the wee ones to get down off the stage with their bundles. during mrs. santa's address he might carelessly perch himself upon the pumpkin. the pumpkin is made with a strong wire frame (can be made at any hardware store), and covered with a deep yellow cambric with an occasional green smutch painted upon it. it is in two hemispheres and is tied together strongly at the bottom and loosely at the top, so that the fairy inside can easily loosen the top string and step out when mrs. santa cuts open the pumpkin with a large carving-knife. in case it is not practicable to have a pumpkin-frame made, substitute for it a gigantic snowball made of cotton-wool, covered with diamond-dust to sparkle like snow-crystals. two large old-fashioned umbrellas that are dome-shaped will serve very nicely for the frame of a spherical ball, if the tips of the ribs are wired together. it should then be covered inside and outside with white cloth on which the cotton batting can be basted. with such an arrangement it would be necessary to dispense with the fairy, but the little folks might have the surprise of seeing the snowball slowly open at a snap from jack frost's whip, disclosing a nest of smaller snowballs. these jack frost might toss to the children and, when opened, they might be found to contain candy and nuts. index page acting proverbs advertisement items all about kate apple social april fool dinner april fool party authors' contest authors' guessing game authors' verbal game "b" sociable barn party baseball party bean bags bean sociable berry guessing contest bible contest bible evening bible names bible readings bird carnival bird guessing contest birthday party bishop's riddle box party cake sale cake walk (novel kind) calico carnival can factory cat guessing contest chestnut sociable children's birthday flowers children's birthday parties children's christmas party children's christmas tableaux children's easter party children's souvenirs children's sweet pea tea children's tom thumb entertainment children's valentine party chinese party christmas costume party christmas menu and table decorations christmas umbrella game church bazaar suggestions cobweb sociable conundrum tea cook book sale cooky sociable corn husking bee dutch party easter egg hunt easter luncheon easter sociable fairies' garden feast of seven tables feast of nations fish market flags of nations floral love story flower bazaar flower guessing contest flower luncheons flower party flowers illustrated fourth of july museum game of nations geographical game george and martha tea girls' names contest golf luncheon golf players' guessing contest good luck party gypsy fortune-telling hallowe'en box cake hallowe'en games hallowe'en party hallowe'en suggestions handkerchief bazaar hatchet party ice festival inauguration day lunch independence day necessities indian dinner party indoor lawn party initial characteristics jack-o'-lantern party japanese card party japanese sociable literary contest literary evening literary people measuring party medical sociable medical trunk military sociable morning glory fair mother goose game musical card party musical evening musical guessing contest musical romance musical terms illustrated musicians buried mystical dinner menu mystical party new year's eve party new year's resolutions new year's sociable nineteenth century game nose and goggle party noted people nut conundrums nut party observation party old-fashioned dinner old-time country school old-time spelling bee orange party orange sociable patriotic party peddlers' parade penny for your thoughts photograph party pictorial geography picture reading pictures of prominent men pie party pilgrim luncheon ping-pong luncheon ping-pong party pin party p. o. d. dinner party pop-corn party portrait game poverty party poverty sociable presidential couplets presidential questions presidents' nicknames pussy willow party red white and blue luncheon "riley" entertainment self-portraits seven days in one shamrock luncheon snowdrift party sock sociable spinning party spinster tea state abbreviations state flowers state nicknames state sociable st. patrick's day party st. patrick's guessing contest telegram party tennis sociable ten virgins (sacred play) thanksgiving day decorations thanksgiving football dinner thanksgiving sociable transplanting trees tree guessing contest tree party tree pool trolley party unique valentine party university luncheon valentine entertainment valentine fun valentine party--danish valentine sociable variety of little misses vegetable party wedding anniversaries wedding of the operas which is your age which is your aunt (ant) which is your city white ribbon sociable why we never married wife of santa claus